Myths and Folklore Blog

“Arthur, can you play me a song? I’m bored,” asks Viviana, the youngest (and only) daughter of the baron of Linthia. “Unfortunately, I cannot, my lady,” Arthur replies. “Your father forbade it after the last...incident.” “Could you tell me a story instead, then?” Viviana asks. “Yes, my lady,” Arthur agrees. It’s not as if he can do anything else at the moment. He thinks for a moment on the stories he’s read before and begins his tale. Once upon a time, in a distant land, there was a town with a horrible rat problem. The rats had overtaken the city, bringing plagues and famine with them. Hm? Well, my lady, of course they had tried cats! But the rodents were so numerous and large that they ran the cats out of town. Traps fared no better, for the rats were so large they could bend the metal and chew through the ropes of any snare or cage. The Baron of the town issued a royal decree that anyone who could rid the town of all of the rats would be paid handsomely. Well, as it happens, a t...

The last of the armed men falls to Arthur’s blade and he takes a moment to catch his breath. His partner, Borealis, and himself had been ambushed, but not by a guild organized group. Still, it was a messy fight just from the sheer numbers they had on Borealis and Arthur. They had surrounded the duo and Arthur had to use a healing spell at one point during the altercation. He turns around and sees Borealis is on the ground. He must have been knocked down during the fight. He walks over to him. Borealis isn’t moving. Arthur isn’t worried. He isn’t. “Borealis, if this is your idea of a joke, you should quit while you’re ahead.” No answer. “I’m serious. You’re going to make me upset and then you’ll really feel bad about it.” Nothing. Arthur crouches down and places his index finger and middle finger on one side of Borealis’ neck, just below his chin. There’s no pulse and Arthur’s breath momentarily catches in his throat. It’s fine; he can fix this. There’s a temple to Bahamut 2 miles...

Once upon a time – before stories were called fairytales – they were called spider tales, after the spider Anansi. Anansi was very clever and had won the right to call stories that after outsmarting the chief of the gods. However, the news of this attracted the attention of another trickster, named Puck, and this is where our story begins. Puck is a fairy of the woods and of summertime, and he thinks stories should be named for him, and not Anansi.  So, he travels across the sea to Anansi’s house, and asks him if the stories can be named after the fair folk instead. Anansi considers this request then says, “I had to complete three tasks to get the stories named after me. It is only fair that you do the same.” Puck agrees to this happily. It sounds like a game, and all fairies are fond of games. “First,” Anansi says, “you must bring me a gourd full of live honeybees. Second, you must bring me a tiger. For the third and last task, you must outsmart me, Anansi.” For the firs...

There once was a time when all of the animals spoke the same language, and they had rules that they would follow to maintain peace and to keep order in their land. One day, in a vast and prosperous forest, there came a lone wolf who began to disrupt this order. The wolf would kill any who crossed his path, regardless of whether or not he was hungry or provoked. The smaller animals all gathered for a meeting to discuss what was to be done about wolf (for the larger animals like bear could not be bothered). “Someone has to do something!” cried the deer, who had organized the meeting, “the woods have become dangerous, and the air smells of rot from the meat the wolf wastes!” “But the wolf is dangerous,” says the little, tawny owl, “he has sharp teeth and claws; and he’s quick and strong. Who would be willing to face him?” “I will,” croaks the raven, “I am clever, and my wings are just as powerful as the wolf’s jaw. I shall get rid of him.” “Yes, you are clever,” says the deer, “bu...

My father fashions us wings of wax, reed, and feathers. One brilliant invention, to escape the “payment” of another. “Icarus listen to me,” he warns, “becoming complacent and allowing yourself to sink too close to the sea will make your wings too heavy to fly. Flying too high will melt the wax. You must fly between these two extremes my son. Follow my lead and do not stray, or you will surely perish.” I nod, but I find I cannot focus on the warning in his words, nor can I comprehend the danger he speaks of. My mind is too occupied with the idea of freedom from this tower. My father departs, flying out the window, and I follow. It is incredible. The wind rushes through my fingers as well as my wings, and I can smell the salt of the sea better than I ever could in that tower. I am a bird let out of its cage for the first time and I feel invincible. I look to the sun, admiring the beauty of shining Helios and his chariot. I yearn to be closer to him, to feel his warm embrace, he who bring...

The Odyssea Shanty There once was a man who was lost at sea  And the name of his tale is the odyssey  A tale of hubris and trickery  Go Nobody go  Soon may Odysseus come  To bring sweet wine to a cyclops dumb  One day when the journey is done  He’ll reach Ithaca, his home  Odysseus and crew find land  With fertile soil and giants grand  He gathers an exploring band  To meet his one-eyed foe  Soon may Odysseus come  To bring sweet wine to a cyclops dumb  One day when the journey is done  He’ll reach Ithaca, his home  They find a cave on the isle’s shore  When down on them, a cyclops bore  Their captain called his men and swore  That beast would reap what’s sown  Soon may Odysseus come  To bring sweet wine to a cyclops dumb  One day when the journey is done  He’ll reach Ithaca, his home  Polyphemus maimed and slaughtered  Two of the men for cyclops fodder  And ...

Once upon a time there was a mother and daughter. The mother was going to the market in the next town and asked her daughter what she would like her to bring back. “You don’t have to bring anything for me, Mama,” the daughter told her. “But trips to the market are so rare, I insist on bringing you something,” the mother said. “If you must bring me something,” the daughter said, “I would like three roses. No more, no less.” And with that request in mind, the mother went to the market. Unfortunately, she could not find any roses. Disheartened, the mother bought the rest of what she had gone there to buy and began her journey home. However, night had fallen quickly, and there was no moon to light her path, so she soon became lost. She wandered through the forest, hoping to find something familiar, only to instead stumble upon a castle. She did not recognize it at all, so she started to leave, but stopped when she noticed the bushes of roses growing in the castle’s garden. The roses were a...