OOC History Edit
The Great Golem of Warsaw was created by the member Treacherous. It was his� second character to reach the hall of fame.
It all began in 1940, Poland at the height of the Great War.� The Third Reich had split our land into three parts.� Two protectorates: one annexed to Russia and another for the German controlled government.� The last part was the Reich territory.� I grew up in the German controlled protectorate: A Jewish township in Warsaw.� Ech, actually, they decreed it a Ghetto.� It was the largest of these areas in the German controlled lands.� That word…Ghetto… it was meant to disgrace us.� Nevertheless, they could never discourage our Jewish spirit.�
Nearly 40% of the population lived here.� In German controlled Warsaw, we felt like trapped rats and in a way we were.� Starvation and disease were like a brother and sister to us.� No work to be found.� The majority who survived did this through illegal smuggling.� Underground schools and learning facilities kept our traditions strong.� My people, the Jewish people were a strong folk.� We would not lose our culture to these tyrants.� These bubkes’.� It was horrible situates, but during this time it was all we had.�
I remember in November, the German's closed us in from the outside world by building a wall with armed guards.� It was at this time that we knew our time was near.� Inside the barrier, Jews were killed, Hung and beaten right on the streets.� If you were out too late, did not have the proper paper work or just looking at the wrong German the wrong way, it could mean death.�
We heard that the Germans were looking for ways to mass murder our people.� They felt that face-to-face killings were too brutal for their men" that it would make them into psychopaths.� Can you imagine?� They were worried for the psychological well being of their men.� Many were spreading rumors of certain containment camps being turned to death camps.� Places such as Auschwitz, Treblinka and Chelmno.� Many considered this just to be rumors.� However, few took these reports very seriously.� I was one of these citizens.�
Acch!� Listen to me sounding like my father.� Let me back up.� � � My name is Gideon - Gideon Greyberg.� I grew up here in Warsaw.� I am a Rabbi.� Actually, I am a descendent of a long line of Rabbi.� It's a tradition passed to every able boy in my family.� My mother died giving birth to me and the invasion later killed my father.� As you can imagine, I have grown bitter towards German occupation.� We all have.� The death of my father didn't help matters for me.
My father was a victim of heavy air attacks and artillery bombardment.� He was just reading, when rubble rained from a nearby collapsing building.� It crushed our home.� He was the last of my family in Warsaw, but I never left.� He was a great man-respected and sought out throughout the Jewish community.� His knowledge of Jewish law was unprecedented.� I am not half the man he was.� He always told me life was a one-way street.� Looking back, I wished I were a painter, so I could've drawn myself going in that right direction.� It took him many years to reel me in from roughhousing.� He would later force me into “that right direction”.� The public still looks up to me.� Mostly because of my size, I think.� 6'2 and 230 pounds.� My father always said I am “like a golem”.� Hulking and slow.� Looking back, that is quite ironic, but more to that later.
With my father's death, many of his devout followers sought teachings elsewhere.� A lot of the residents did not believe I had his wisdom.� They were probably right.� Regardless, I had my share of followers.� After German occupation, it would be them that would seek me during the war.� It would be this group that would give me the strength to do the things necessary to defend my home and heritage.�
As German treatment of the Jewish worsened; talks of rebellion spread throughout the ghettos. � Resistance against the tyrannical reign of the Third Reich was spoken in hushed tone.� I was amongst these gossipers.� Maybe it was my size or maybe it was my lack of understanding that my father possessed, but I was always more of a fighter than a scholar.� I wanted to go to war against the Germans.� Without parental guidance and now a young adult myself, I could act of my own free will.� When the people talked, I listened.� My father would've disapproved.� Despite this, I assembled a small gathering of strong Jewish men that would meet every few days in the nether of the Great Synagogue of Warsaw.�
We were men of all professions.� We were tailors, bakers, smugglers and a Rabbi.� We were the Jewish people-10 strong.� We were proud and we would defend our home with our life.� Together, we discussed multiple ways to strike back at the SS and Gestapo forces.� We knew the city well and we knew it better than the Germans.� Our main problem however, was the lack of participation from other Jewish.� Maybe it was too early for them to see their true fates or maybe it was just lack of nourishment, but the people were not yet ready to fight for their freedom.� Also, we lacked any armament.� The Germans kept a close eye on their own supplies.� They seemed never to slip.� What good were we without weapons to fight?� Picks and axes meant nothing to the heavy weaponry of the SS.� We were at a loss.
What started as a full-fledged insurrection, turned into a get-together of bickering men.� This group used to look to me for leadership, later I became just another voice.� Bemused one night, I sought refuge in the bowels of the Synagogue.� Wanting to get away from the quarreling, I went into the old library looking for answers.� I stayed up all night looking for secrets of what past Rabbi had done in similar situations.� I studied over multiple books regarding Jewish law, war and even ways of peace.� Nothing seemed to fit what I needed.� I wanted rebellion.� I wanted knowledge of fighting one against many.� What made me think I would find this in a synagogue was beyond me.�
That's when I finally found it.� Sealed away and labeled forbidden in Hebrew.� Breaking a rusty lock, I came across a discovery that would change my life forever.� A book…and in that book was a word.� The word was golem.� I never fully knew the meaning of this word my father used to call me.� I knew it was slang for clumsy or sluggish, but although my father could be hard, he would never refer to me in such a way.� No.� In this ancient, dusty book I found; the word meant, “The unshaped form”.�
I was immediately fascinated.� As a Rabbi, I couldn't deny the coincidence.� There was fate involved here.� It spoke of the golem being the definitive representation of the wise and holy Rabbi.� It spoke of various prominent Rabbis throughout the middle Ages that used a brainless, man-like hunk shaped from clay to serve them.� Only the most powerful of Rabbi could call upon this mass.� With special conjuring, the entity could carry out simple manual labors or even be used to defend against attackers manifold.� It was the perfect weapon.� This thing could strike fear in the enemy and no man had to be hurt.� I read further.� Some writings even spoke of transferring your or another's soul into the construction.� I had to have it.�
This golem would solve all the problems of Warsaw.� All my problems.� My status would be rectified.� My devotees would expand.� My father would be proud.� Why they would hide away such a wonderful piece of history was beyond me, I thought.� This was my chance to win back Warsaw for the Jewish.� � � � �
Following our daytime meetings, I would sneak down to the old library.� The Gestapo policed the territory at night, so I had to be very careful to stay hidden.� While there, I would read and carry out various tasks specific to building this golem.� According to legend, the construct was made of clay.� The archaic books told step-by-step how to fashion life from the soil.� Daily, I would gather clay from nearby water banks.� Like the story of Adam, I shaped this thing into my own likeness…yet larger…much larger.� For the task ahead of it; my golem needed girth.� Next, I hardened the clay through an old Hebrew incantation.� This was my first actual mystic ritual and I was nervous.� I was completely shocked as the clay man hardened before my eyes.� Nothing could steal my pride that night.� What I had created was nothing short of a miracle.� Finally in the fifth day, it lay there before me…completed.� My huge lifeless redeemer; soon it would rise.
On the Sabbath day we did not meet.� We never met on this day, so I intended to finish my work on the sixth.� I anticipated making it rise on this day, so the last ritual needed to be performed.� The text said to write the word “emet” on the forehead of the being.� Emet meant reality.� Next, it spoke of reciting a precise combination of Hebrew letters and words, which would produce consciousness in the comatose being.� For hours I tried this unproductively.� My faith began to wane slightly.� Ill thought began to get the best of me.� “I could never be the man my father was.� Who was I fooling?� I will never be able to help my people.� I am just a useless oaf pretending to be a Rabbi.” I thought.� I sulked like this until near daylight until suddenly an incredible crashing sound occurred.�
Hurrying upstairs to the main sanctuary; my heart was not prepared for what I saw.� Before me were nine men standing with guns to their heads.� Tailors, bakers and smugglers; our nine man rebellion was captured and I made ten.� It felt as if my heart fell from my body as they grabbed me by my collar and put me with the group.� We were marched in chains to the center of town in a single file with me in the lead.�
Midway in the town courtyard stood a large structure the Nazis had built for hangings.� They meant to make examples of us.� It seemed like the entirety of the Jewish population was on the streets.� Women cried.� Some shirked.� Others met our gazes with proud indignation.� Anger swelled within me.� A Madness I cannot describe began to boil inside me.� As I looked at that crowd, I saw my history, my future and my culture dying with me.� I saw my father in the crowd.� “What have I done?� This can't be the end.” I contemplated.� I felt the noose tighten around my neck.� I felt the tug of the rope by the Gestapo officer.� I saw my comrades receiving their own nooses following mine.� Suddenly, I felt the floor quiver beneath me. �
Matter Animation - Bracha Edit
With my last thought, I remembered an incantation that I believed I would never use.� With my last breath, I heaved out its enchantment through the excruciating pain.� Next, was darkness…�
…amazingly I awoke; seeing through eyes that weren't mine.� It was as if I were floating.� The scene was a blur.� I remember jolting into the light again in the old library.� Rising up to my feet, I noticed that the legs that I stood on weren't mine.� They were legs of stone.� Inside I smiled.� The spell had worked.� In my desperate death throes, I had invoked the spell of transmigration; the ability to transfer one's soul into an artificial vessel-my golem.� Like some dybbuk, my mortality was deferred.� Then, I remembered my friends.
Berserker –Shabbat Meshugass
Suddenly, a blinding rage from years of pent up frustrations filled me.� Something within me that I'd been holding back for years took over.� With reckless abandon, I rose on rock-strewn legs and crashed forward; I broke doors, walls and anything that stood in my way.� There was a text in the old books.� “The golem mustn't be used on the Sabbath day, lest he go mad.”� Too late.
I remember the look on the SS and Gestapo officers when I burst unto the scene.� Fear couldn't describe that look.� The look invigorated me.� I charged forward mindless with cheerful ire.
Earth Quake – Noodge them a little.�
Women, men, children and even Nazi fled as I rumbled forward.� The concussive force of my steps caused already battle torn edifices to crumble.� Windows broke and most importantly; Nazis fell.� Noticing this; I began to tread heavily onward.� The troops stumbled ubiquitously as they futilely tried to take aim.� My temper boiled over, even still I could comprehend that damage was also being caused to my people as well.� With much effort, I managed to subside my forceful plodding until I finally reached the fallen Nazis.
Armor Skin – Gay Avek Nazi Schmucks!
As they gained their composure, gunshots came from every direction.� I don't know much about German weaponry, but I do know that some of the heavier firearms slightly damaged my stony hide.� Not enough to concern myself with, but enough to extremely unbalance my temperament once more.� The fury of the Sabbath would continue as a brave SS soldier smashed his firearm against my head from behind.� It was as if I were wearing armor.� I felt nothing.� Grabbing his outstretched arm, I slung him all-around.� I used his body to trounce the closest attackers.� I recall my joy as I saw that swastika fly through the air with Nazi attached.� Within minutes I was all that was left standing.� The SS and Gestapo had all either been defeated or ran for dear life.�
Radar – Ferblunjit – No More!
Then I heard it.� “Look out behind you!” a familiar voice shouted.� Spinning around, I noticed three SS soldiers hunkered down in an alley at my rear.� Again, my familiarity of German weaponry was not enlightened, but I knew a dangerous piece of equipment when I saw it.� “It's a Panzerfaust Gideon, get down!” another recognizable voice came.� With my head clouded on adrenaline; I thought I was losing my mind.� Regardless, the threat was real, so I crouched behind the hangman apparatus.� Suddenly, a large warhead flew past my head.� “What are they doing with anti-tank weapons?� It's just a Jewish town.� Hurry Gideon, get them!”� The voices continued.� Confused, I began to think this whole escapade was a hallucination.� “Was I still hanging to life from that noose?” I wondered.� My thoughts ended quickly as out of the blue, a warhead exploded against a building.� “What are you doing Gideon?� Quick before they reload!”� Without hesitation I rose from my crouching position.� “Look there above them!” one of the voices exclaimed.� Gazing upward, I noticed a large, looming piece of rooftop battle-torn from war.� It dangled lazily above them.� With a mighty stomp, I caused the entire area to quake.� This tremble resulted in the death of three more SS troops as the chunk tumbled down.� “Good job Gideon.� That was the last of them.”� My head began to swim until finally I saw them.� The nine strong Jewish men of Warsaw stood before me wafting in and out of view like apparitions.� My rebellion had returned from the afterlife.
“You see that we still hang there Gideon.”� One of them said as he pointed upward towards the hangman.
“Get us down, Gideon.”
“We shouldn't be an embarrassment like so.”
Surely, this was another of the golem's tricks.� Or perhaps, it was because I was a disembodied spirit myself that I could see them.� Either way, I was now able to perceive and hear the dead. � With my hulking size, it was good to know my old friends still had my back.� Still fuming I could not speak, but our unity was still strong even in death.� They would guide my way becoming vigil watchers forever more.�
“Don't just dawdle so, Gideon.� There are more at the bunkers.� We must hurry and take them now, while they are surprised.”
At this time, the madness of the Sabbath continued.� I didn't quite understand what had transpired; I just knew revenge.� I listened and followed the voices of my fellow's instruction like a perfect soldier.
Bashing Attack - Emet
Though my comrades were already deceased, I smashed the apparatus that imprisoned their limp bodies.� I laid them neatly in a row in the town square.� Breaking down the very beam that held them hostage; I carried my prize to the barracks of the SS and Gestapo men.� An alarm had already sounded as thunderous footsteps announced my approach.� They came to me.� Armed to the teeth they struck.� Their semi automatics and assault rifles chipped away to the very core of my soul.� With every shell my temper rose.� This vengeance was for my people.� The timber I carried coupled with my frenzy swung with authority.� My ethereal cohorts spread out and shouted directives.� With chutzpah, I cut a swath through the German settlement like a knife through butter.� My wrath went unchecked for what seemed like hours until nothing stood on the streets but me and my bodiless observers.� Not even I could bear to look at what I had done.� Regardless, I was proud.� I may have killed every armed German in Warsaw that day.� If not, the rest had left for now and that was enough for me.� My fellows directed me to gather every available weapon I could manage and put them in storage bags.� I pulled them back to the Synagogue.� Their hope was that one day the living would join my rebellion.�
Returning back to my fallen comrade's bodies, I loosened the nooses from around their necks and carried each man back to the doors of their homes.� They thanked me and wept as they viewed their still living families from afar.� I could sense the frightened eyes hiding behind curtains.� I could feel the peeping from behind closed doors.� The town was watching.� Good.� I wanted them to see that the mighty golem was on their side.� The streets were dissonantly empty as I tread wearily home contemplating my fate.�
It was late that night when I returned to the place I would make my dwelling.� At the Great Synagogue, my mind rushed back to me and I recalled what I had done.� With my head returning to normal, my friends discussed the day.� Like old times, they conversed on how to defeat the Nazis.� However, something was wrong.
The spell I had used was my last resort on that hangman.� The invocation was a success and a failure.� I celebrated my chance to enact retribution for my people, but a golem has one fatal flaw.� Golems cannot speak.� Earlier, I believed this was another blight of the Sabbath…I was wrong.� It was the nature of the golem.� Without words to articulate, I was unable to retract my enchantment.� My soul was trapped forever and I could not explain myself to anyone.� My new vessel was a blessing and a curse.� I chose the former.�
After my uproar in the middle of Warsaw, I lurched back to the bowels of the Great Synagogue to mull over these events.� I knew that surely reinforcements would arrive soon and we would not be caught off guard with such likelihood at hand.� I was positive that the people greatly feared me.� But in time, they would see that I was to be their champion.� Eventually, I would turn Warsaw into a haven for the Jewish community.� I would show them that I was on their side.� They would make their stand with me to show them the way.� I would make the Great Synagogue our sanctuary.� My destiny was sealed in this new reality and at last, “The unshaped form” was no more.� I may never be a wise Rabbi.� I may never live up to my father's standard, but I have found my purpose.� I Gideon Greyberg would eternally live as the Great Golem of Warsaw.