Croatian Tales of Long Ago - Črt

As you may have already seen, sometimes I'm a donkey. In fact, I can take the shape of many beings. Whatever comes to my mind. But sometimes I'm just myself. With my purplish, sickly complexion, goat-like horns and moustache a la Franz Joseph.

But my armies tend to fear me more when I am like this than when I slip into the shape of, let’s say, a domesticated farm animal. And I like it when they are afraid of me. It makes them better at carrying out orders.

More importantly, my lovely wife tends to love me more like this. She thinks I am pretty like this. Yep, pretty. If anyone else in, below or above this world would even try calling me pretty... they would not last much longer, at least not in the shape they existed up to then. But Morana... her whiteness, her fangs and claws, her icy ire... I sometimes scarcely dare to gaze at that terrifying perfection. So if my good looks, even if it is made up of funny horns and old-man’s moustaches, is what keeps me close to her, so be it. I’ll let her call me pretty and be proud of it. But, make no mistake, if even a twinkle of a smile escapes you, I will end you. So we are clear.