Stormdancer (34 page)

The Hungry Dead
—the restless residents of the underworld. Spirits of wicked people consigned to hunger and thirst in Yomi’s dark for all eternity.
Izanagi (Lord)
—also called Izanagi-no-Mikoto, literally “He who Invites,” the Maker God of Shima. He is a benevolent deity who, with his wife Izanami, is responsible for creating the Shima Isles, their pantheon of gods and all the life therein. After the death of his wife in childbirth, Izanagi traveled to Yomi to retrieve her soul, but failed to return her to the land of the living.
Izanami (Lady)
—also called the Dark Mother, and the Endsinger, wife to Izanagi, the Maker God. Izanami died giving birth to the Shima Isles, and was consigned to dwell in the Yomi underworld. Izanagi sought to reclaim his wife, but she was corrupted by Yomi’s dark power, becoming a malevolent force and hater of the living. She is mother to the thousand and one oni, a legion of demons who exist to plague the people of Shima.
Raijin
—God of Thunder and Lightning, son of Susano-ō. Raijin is seen as a cruel god, fond of chaos and random destruction. He creates thunder by pounding his drums across the sky. He is the creator of arashitora, the thunder tigers.
Susano-ō
—the God of Storms. Son of Izanagi, he was born along with Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun, and Tsukiyomi, God of the Moon, when his father returned from Yomi and washed to purify himself of Yomi’s taint. Susano-ō is generally seen as a benevolent god, but he constantly torments his sister, Amaterasu, Lady of the Sun, causing her to hide her face. He is father to the Thunder God, Raijin, the deity who created arashitora—the thunder tigers. He is patron of the Ryu zaibatsu.
Tsukiyomi
—the God of the Moon. Son of Izanagi, he was born along with Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun, and Susano-ō, God of Storms, when his father returned from Yomi and washed to purify himself of Yomi’s taint. Tsukiyomi angered his sister, Amaterasu, when he slaughtered Uke Mochi, the Goddess of Food. Amaterasu has refused to speak to him since, which is why the Sun and Moon never share the same sky. He is a quiet god, fond of stillness and learning. He is the patron of the Kitsune zaibatsu.
Yomi
—the deepest level of the hells, where the evil dead are sent to rot and suffer for all eternity. Home of demons, and the Dark Mother, Lady Izanami. Jay Kristoff would like to express heartfelt gratitude to the following outstand
ing human beings:
My brilliant and beautiful wife Amanda, for being my alpha, beta, most
brutal critic, and above all, for indulging me in this absurd little dream. Joe “Three-card” Monti and Jason Yarn, for kind words and encouragement during the throes of endless rejection.
Caitie Flum, for boundless generosity and sage advice, with no expectation
of reward.
Lindsay “LT” Ribar, for plucking me from the slush in defiance of all muppetry.
Patrick Rothfuss, for taking precious time to talk to a stranger halfway
around the world, and speak words both wise and true.
Matt Bialer, for holding my hand, shooting dead- straight and selling ice to
eskimos.
Pete Wolverton and Julie Crisp, for making me polish until it gleamed, and
indulging my prima donna histrionics with minimal mockery.
Lance Hewett, Narita Misaki, Sudayama Aki, Paul Cechner and Amber
Hart, for making my shoddy Japanese slightly less shoddy.
Christopher Tovo, for the love in the alley behind Cherry Bar. Jimmy Orr, for designing clan logos that are, without a doubt, completely
orrsome.
Araki Miho, for calligraphy beautiful enough to wear for life. Zack de la Rocha, Philip H. Anselmo, Serj Tankian, D. Randall Blythe,
Mark Morton, Corey Taylor, Mike Patton, Maynard James Keenan, Billy Corgan, Chad Gray, Robb Flynn, Trent Reznor, Jerry Cantrell, Layne Stanley (R.I.P.) and Peter Steele (R.I.P.), for poetry that has inspired and sustained me
far more than simple written words ever could.
My fellow hellions around the Absolute Write Water Cooler, and all my
beautiful bitchez in the Apocaladies.
My family, for unconditional love.
But most of all, to you, who hold these words now in your hand. May it one day become a fist.