The Raven - Evil, Dark, Loathsome

The raven. Dark, eerie and brooding. Loud and often misunderstood.

A companion to witches and warlocks. The representative of death and bad luck. An evil omen. Be these wily creatures of ebony beauty as ugly as they've been made out to be? Far from it.

These creatures of twilight are intelligent survivors of the ancient world. They are the scavengers of the medieval lands. Dark companions of the lonely and outcast. they live mysterious lives, appearing and disappearing from sight as they please, bringing their raucous cries with them wherever they go.

How did they get so closely associated with their titles? Why do we see them in such a dark light? Is it the color of their feathers? Or maybe their harsh shrill voices?

Death. The bleak end which comes to us all. The entity that looms over the fields of war. Picture it. The aftermath of a colossal battle. Hundreds of dead bodies littered on soil caked with dried blood. The revolting stench of death hangs heavy in the air. Amidst the graveyard of bodies and weapons, lurks creatures dark as the night. They peck and feed upon the dead. The vile smell inviting to these creatures. Nature's "clean-up crew". The ravens.

An old hag, greying with age and wisdom, travels through the woods as she always does; In solitude. Her hideous wrinkled and wart-ridden face looking out to the silent woods, the only place where she can find true peace and acceptance. No family. No friends. And one day, she finds a little hatchling. The tiny bird lying on the ground chirping helplessly. She picks it up and raises it as her own child. Thus did it grow into her dark companion, its beady intelligent eyes recognising her as its mother.

Years pass, stories became exaggerated. New tales spun. Memories blurred and warped. Thus, the raven became what it is now. A mysterious creature of urban myth and furious intensity matching its color.