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GENZOMAN — The Pythia
Published: 2008-10-21 00:33:15 +0000 UTC; Views: 358758; Favourites: 9395; Downloads: 14989
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Wikipedia Attack!!!The Pythia (Greek: Πυθία, Pūthia) was the priestess presiding over the Oracle of Apollo at Delphi, located on the slopes of Mount Parnassus. The Pythia was widely credited with giving prophecies inspired by Apollo, giving her a prominence unusual for a woman in male-dominated ancient Greece. The Delphic oracle was established in the 8th century BC. Its last recorded response was given in 393 AD, when the emperor Theodosius I ordered pagan temples to cease operation. During this period the Delphic Oracle was the most prestigious and authoritative oracle in the Greek world.
The oracle is one of the best-documented religious institutions of the classical Greek world. Writers who mention the oracle include Herodotus, Thucydides, Euripides, Sophocles, Plato, Aristotle, Pindar, Aeschylus, Xenophon, Diodorus, Strabo, Pausanias, Plutarch, Livy, Justin, Ovid, Lucan and Julian.
The name Pythia derived from Pytho, which in myth was the original name of Delphi. The Greeks derived this place-name from the verb pythein (πύθειν, "to rot"), used of the decomposition of the body of the monstrous serpent Python after she was slain by Apollo.
It is often said that the Pythia delivered oracles in a frenzied state induced by vapors rising from a chasm in the rock, and that she spoke gibberish which priests reshaped into the enigmatic prophecies preserved in Greek literature
a draw of arround june or so. Again (LOL) another draw for myths & Legends TCG. download for a big version
Photoshop CS/ 5 hours or so/ intuos/ music: The Storyteller by Fairyland
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If you’re reading this, then you’ve already started the chain reaction and there’s no going back. The events I am about to warn you about will definitely unfold, even if you close this email now. The best thing you can do now is read on and carefully follow my instructions.
The reason this is happening to you is unfair, but it’s beyond anyone’s control. This all started because of Jessica Brown. Jessica Brown lived in southern Louisiana on the shores of Lake Catherine. She lived with her mother and father and next door to her uncle. The house she lived in had a small cellar with various odd items—tools, cans of tomato paste, old furniture. It was ordinary in every way except that once a year, every year, on the very same day as the year before, a blinding blue light would flash from the cellar. The family had never been able to figure out what caused the light and had grown accustomed to it, until one year the flash damaged little Jessica’s vision.
Her parents called an electrician, who showed up and looked at the wiring in the cellar. He said that everything looked fine, as it always did. He told Jessica’s parents that he’s been checking that same cellar the last 40 years, as long as he’d been an electrician. Every family that lives there would call him about the blue light. He finally admitted that the head electrician before him went to that house 40 years ago and died from a surge of electricity that charged through him and flooded the house with a flash of blue light.
Every year, on that same date, the bright blue light flashed, but it had never harmed anyone before.
The family tried to move on with their lives and tell themselves the electrician was just a booze hound making up stories since he didn’t know what was wrong with the wiring in the cellar. One day, Jessica’s mother was cooking and asked little Jessica to grab a few cans from the cellar. Jessica obliged. Her mother heard the little pitter patter of Jessica’s footsteps going down the cellar stairs and then, strangely, the cellar door slammed shut. It was odd, but Jessica’s mother assumed it was a gust of wind and continued chopping onions.
Jessica’s mother jumped and dropped her knife at the sound of her daughter’s bloodcurdling scream. She yelled for her husband, and they pulled and pulled on the door until it flew open. Across the room, just beneath a little window with moonlight shining on her, stood little Jessica. Her mother called out to her, and Jessica slowly walked toward the door.
Her parents looked at her bewildered, searching her little face for an explanation. All the blood had drained from her face, and her knuckles were scraped and splintered.
“I saw a man, and he stood this high off the ground,” said Jessica, gesturing a flat palm about two feet off the ground. “It was like he was there, but he wasn’t there.”
Her parents stared nervously at the cellar door.
“He looked at me, and he hated me,” she said in a tone far too serious for her six years of age.
Her parents were shaken but told Jessica that it was dark and her eyes were playing tricks on her. They bolted the cellar door shut, hung a curtain over it, and placed a large bookshelf in front of it. But, every night after that, her parents would wake to the deafeningly loud sound of crashing wood and find little Jessica in the corner of the cellar, unaware of how she came to be there. Finally fed up, Jessica’s father bricked up a wall over the cellar.
Months later, on the day when the family would normally see the flash of intense blue light, neighbors heard the terrible screams of the entire family. The police arrived to find brick and mortar outside of the house, apparently having flown out of the front window. They clambered over the rubble, through the house and into the cellar. They say the two officers who responded left the police force the day after the discovery. Inside the cellar, the bodies of Jessica’s parents were founds stretched and mangled, twisted like wires with the home’s electrical wiring in the drywall. Jessica was nowhere to be found and has never been sighted since.
Her neighbors, however, reported to the electrician seeing a bright blue flash of light from their attic the night of the murders. It is said that the damned soul of the tormented electrician escaped Jessica’s home that night and seeks nothing but to torment the living souls of this world he is trapped in.
If you do not pass this letter along to 5 other people in the next 24 hours, your home will be plagued and you too will have to be untangled from the wiring.
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sorry about this I got bored
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I went to Delphi, where the Pythia was located, it was amazing.
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" Dancing in the moonlight, right up till the light of day."
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Seductive & a little ominous (have just noticed like all your redhead art - must see analyst)
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Frenzied state via vapors rising from a chasm? WHAT was in that chasm? (Druuuugs. ^^)
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thank you for giving brief information along the picture.
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Parece que se va a tropezar, por mirar a otro lado
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I prefer this one than the last Pythia that I saw!!!
Good Job!!!
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great works u'v got there! got to like u as i'm interested in gods. she's one of my favorites.
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She is beautiful, have you drawn one of Apollo?
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Hermosa!
Me encantó su postura!
Tu galeria es una fuente interminable de tesoros Genzo, veo estas ilustraciones mas antinguas y son igual de sorprendentes!
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With her dazzling white garments, she looks very much akin to the one depicted in 300.
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I LOVE all the pieces you do of Greek and Roman Mythology. <3
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You work so fast. It has me totally jealous. I've noticed you never put big watermarks on your work and that it's always off in an inconsequential corner. Aren't you afraid someone will steal it?
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I actually went to the Oracle at Delphi 
I was like "Why does Pythia sound familiar?" XD And then it hit me
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Have you read "Touch the Dark" by Karen Chance, or "Kushiel's Dart" by Jacqueline Carrey? Because.. half the stuff I see on your site are mentioned in said books + series.
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The movement of your lines is so well done! She is stunning!
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I respond with my poem about how all poetry echoes with the ecstatic significant babble of the Pythoness right down to the present day:
“REAL MEN READ CATULLUS IN LATIN”
an epistle to Tom Leonard
Thinking of Tom L. and Fred (and Hamish should not be omitted);
will young men still wake up at night with their brains in a fever,
counting out trochees and spondees, as if Delphi had spoken,
the blazing-eyed girl on a tripod, her spiralling challenge?
Will Lesbia rise from her seat to greet Nora the youngest immortal,
Will women who spoke for themselves condescend to the mistresses' muteness
seven civilizations downriver of the ending of Gerard de Nerval,
who paid for his misplaced faith on a rope outside the Theatre
as Sarah Bernhardt within played her hundred-eighth night of Electra?
The Oracles never did cease, they're still heard in the poems.
You go out for coffee at four, come back at two in the morning
lit up with the deaths and the deeds of some present-day heroes,
the scandals and actors and tyrants of yesterday's chatter,
set it down on the page in these tones so it's never forgotten.
As the burial mounds in the West conceal harps made of granite
ever played on by waters whose trapped song cannot break the surface.
You go to hear stories of Grandad and leave with this humming,
a kiss to your soul from the whispering saints of the twilight.
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This came as a great surprize to me, too. You don't know something has gone in until it comes back out again! Catullus was a (just) pre Christian poet. The same emperor, Augustus, who sent Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem for a census, tried to ban the sometimes very rude Catullus and the erotic Ovid (unsuccessfully as it turned out).
The six-syllable line was loved by Latin poets - my school teacher taught us this as an example hexameter:
“Down in a deep, dark ditch sat an old sow munching a beanstalk.”
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hey genzo if ever u running your own company sign me up lol
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Muy linda; me recuerda mucho a la chica del oraculo en 300
saludos!
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by far the most interesting work ive seen from you, you got the talent so keep up the cool work, go dçfor it
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