>>Religions are sort of social magnets, in that a religion aligns its members. The most dedicated gravitate toward the center. Worshippers naturally respect them if they embody the ideals of the religion. -- David Kennerly.
One of the things that's great about DR is the presence of some very oddball religious detail. On one hand, you have the semi-Catholic tone of Immortal orthodoxy. On the other, you have these playful stories about interactions between the same Immortals.
I think we're missing a lot of the latter. There's a bunch now, but only a bunch. So I'd like to start asking for stories.
Things to Know :
1) You have to be able to submit the story to the game. That basically means no (overt) references to Earth stories. Having Damaris throw a golden apple in the midst of a wedding between Kertigen and Hodierna is pretty uncouth, as a storyteller, but it's totally acceptable if you can make it work. Saying that Chadatru forged a kingdom with a sword named Excalibur is not. =P
2) The stories do not need to be canonical. While you shouldn't diverge from the major themes of each deity (having Hodierna jump out of the shadows to backstab people is just.. bad), feel free to break loose and do things you normally wouldn't have expected. Come up with a dozen tales for how Chadatru lost his eyesight. The point isn't to write true stories--that's the GMs' job. The point is to play around with the idea of the Immortals and try to flesh out the imagination of them.
3) The story doesn't have to be centered on a deity. What other persons have wielded Firulf's staff?
4) Authorship can be by your character, by a fictional character, or "folk tale", which basically means the author died a millenium or two ago and no one has a clue who it was, and people probably made stuff up when they re-told it anyways.
It doesn't have to be a good story, either. Though if you're begging for groans, go ahead. Chadatru and Tamsine, sitting in a tree.
What to Do With Them :
So, you've written a story. Well, there are a bunch of things you could do.
1) Put it on Elanthipedia.
2) Turn it into a script and post it on scripts.whistlethis.com.
3) Submit it as a library book to dr-libraries@play.net
4) Start telling it in-game. Or give permission to your friends to tell it in-game.
5) Give it to a Bard and have him tell it in-game.
6) Post it here.
To recap, the idea is to come up with lots of stories about the Immortals and then get them into the game. Enrichen your concept of them beyond a couple animals and some decoration. Don't get discouraged if someone thinks your interpretation is wrong; no, they're wrong! You're the artist here. The idea is just more, more, more.
DEVAN
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 04:17 AM CDT
I think this is a great idea, and applaud the suggestion. I have to say that the biggest obstacle so far to my getting the characterization of my little cleric the way I want him has been a dearth of this sort of stuff (at least a dearth of stories that I'm aware of, that I don't think everybody else is probably already aware of also, I don't want to be boring, after all). Kind of hard to play an itinerant mendicant preacher when one can't really seem to pick up on good fresh concepts to preach about (with a uniquely Elanthian twist, at least).
To that end I've been kicking a few vague outlines around in my head on and off the last month or so. I suppose I'll try to flesh them out a bit more and see if anything worthwhile comes of it.
For now I just wanted to say thanks for encouraging this kind of thing, since I'm not typically inclined to share my speculative fictions publicly.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
To that end I've been kicking a few vague outlines around in my head on and off the last month or so. I suppose I'll try to flesh them out a bit more and see if anything worthwhile comes of it.
For now I just wanted to say thanks for encouraging this kind of thing, since I'm not typically inclined to share my speculative fictions publicly.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
NIKPACK
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 04:53 AM CDT
<<3) The story doesn't have to be centered on a deity. What other persons have wielded Firulf's staff?
What a neat idea there!
Nikpack
player of Celeiros
Climbing List:http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Climbing_skill
Swimming List:http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Swimming_skill
And while I am evil, I try to avoid being just plain mean.
-Z
What a neat idea there!
Nikpack
player of Celeiros
Climbing List:http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Climbing_skill
Swimming List:http://www.elanthipedia.com/wiki/Swimming_skill
And while I am evil, I try to avoid being just plain mean.
-Z
SCHWARTZH6
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 08:29 AM CDT
<<3) The story doesn't have to be centered on a deity. What other persons have wielded Firulf's staff?
>>What a neat idea there!
QFT. :)
Great idea! I'll definitely be thinking about this one!
~Player of "One of the Caels."
Bromus says, "think I'm gonna go horn some shylvics and mastiffs"
Bromus says, "and then get some sleep"
You say, "I can't think of anything to say to that."
>>What a neat idea there!
QFT. :)
Great idea! I'll definitely be thinking about this one!
~Player of "One of the Caels."
Bromus says, "think I'm gonna go horn some shylvics and mastiffs"
Bromus says, "and then get some sleep"
You say, "I can't think of anything to say to that."
ALDEN
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 11:48 AM CDT
"What other persons have wielded Firulf's staff?"
So tempted to write that story, but definetely couldn't be posted here....
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
So tempted to write that story, but definetely couldn't be posted here....
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
ALDEN
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 07:23 PM CDT
Devan,
While not ready to post on it yet- your post prompted me to:
a) re-read the Creation Tale of the Dwarves again. That is a great tale.
b) read many of older posts in this folder- they go back to 2002, and remind me of the wonderful collection of clerics(and cleric friends) who posted here then. I really miss Deagol's posts.
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
While not ready to post on it yet- your post prompted me to:
a) re-read the Creation Tale of the Dwarves again. That is a great tale.
b) read many of older posts in this folder- they go back to 2002, and remind me of the wonderful collection of clerics(and cleric friends) who posted here then. I really miss Deagol's posts.
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
DEVAN
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 09:44 PM CDT
I will also point out that there are books in the libraries that showcase some rather nice stuff. The explanation for Eluned's Tears, the story behind the Albatross constellation, the song about Kerenhappuch's skirt, etc.
But I don't know of a single story about Hav'roth, or why Eylhaar has a Jackal as her animal, or what Rutilor has done besides playing St. George and the World Dragon, or whether or not Albreda has ever brokered a treaty herself (or used one of those divine nudges to get it done).
One of my favorite things about the Book of Chadatru is that it takes an Immortal who is plainly Western-inspired and describes him in an amazingly Eastern-inspired poetic style. (Or at least I'm not aware of old Western theological poems that look like that.)
The very simple, two-paragraph descriptions of the Immortals are rife with possibilities, and I'm only touching the very barest tip of the iceberg with these ideas: the stuff that's plain.
Why does Harawep use two swords? Who has Saemus cursed with lovesickness in the past? What would an epic battle between Hodierna and Urrem'tier look like? What youths has Everild sent down to Elanthia to aid armies? What is with Meraud and the wolf?
I mean seriously. A wolf? There's got to be a story behind that. Did it teach him how to write or something by pawing in the dirt?
But I don't know of a single story about Hav'roth, or why Eylhaar has a Jackal as her animal, or what Rutilor has done besides playing St. George and the World Dragon, or whether or not Albreda has ever brokered a treaty herself (or used one of those divine nudges to get it done).
One of my favorite things about the Book of Chadatru is that it takes an Immortal who is plainly Western-inspired and describes him in an amazingly Eastern-inspired poetic style. (Or at least I'm not aware of old Western theological poems that look like that.)
The very simple, two-paragraph descriptions of the Immortals are rife with possibilities, and I'm only touching the very barest tip of the iceberg with these ideas: the stuff that's plain.
Why does Harawep use two swords? Who has Saemus cursed with lovesickness in the past? What would an epic battle between Hodierna and Urrem'tier look like? What youths has Everild sent down to Elanthia to aid armies? What is with Meraud and the wolf?
I mean seriously. A wolf? There's got to be a story behind that. Did it teach him how to write or something by pawing in the dirt?
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
09/17/2008 11:07 PM CDT
>>I mean seriously. A wolf? There's got to be a story behind that. Did it teach him how to write or something by pawing in the dirt?
Everybody knows that the wolf comes from the time when Meraud, in his search for knowledge, had done battle with Trothfang, who had hidden away the keys to a secret knowledge in the burl of a great silverwillow tree (for, being no scholar, he could not himself understand them). The battle was fierce, but in the end Trothfang, through treachery and guile, had bested the knowledge-seeker. As punishment, and out of merciless spite, Trothfang impaled Meraud upon the very same burl with one of his massive, barbed spears, moving a distance away to watch the life ebb slowly from the defeated.
Many days Meraud languished there, until at last a dark night came, devoid of moonlight, whence crept the black wolf, who gnawed away until the tip of the spear broke from the shaft. As Meraud, summoning up the last of his strength, withdrew the remainder of the spear from his side, the viscera which fell from the wound gave birth, fully formed, to Firulf who, stooping down, snatched up the fallen spear shaft, which had itself absorbed much of the life blood of the arcane lord, as well as the hidden secret which lie within the burl of the tree.
As flesh and blood came together anew, a wholly unprecidented and awesome force came over them both, making Firulf the equal of his birth-giver, and unto his staff, strange and terrible power was given. Thus was magic made manifest in Elanthia. And with this new and unexpected power, Firulf smote Trothfang mightily, sending the heartless warrior into retreat, for he had no understanding, then, of how he might respond.
And that's the story of Meraud, the wolf, and the birth of Firulf and of how magic came into Elanthia. Or at least that's what my cleric's grandpappy told him by the fireside when he was a lad.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
Everybody knows that the wolf comes from the time when Meraud, in his search for knowledge, had done battle with Trothfang, who had hidden away the keys to a secret knowledge in the burl of a great silverwillow tree (for, being no scholar, he could not himself understand them). The battle was fierce, but in the end Trothfang, through treachery and guile, had bested the knowledge-seeker. As punishment, and out of merciless spite, Trothfang impaled Meraud upon the very same burl with one of his massive, barbed spears, moving a distance away to watch the life ebb slowly from the defeated.
Many days Meraud languished there, until at last a dark night came, devoid of moonlight, whence crept the black wolf, who gnawed away until the tip of the spear broke from the shaft. As Meraud, summoning up the last of his strength, withdrew the remainder of the spear from his side, the viscera which fell from the wound gave birth, fully formed, to Firulf who, stooping down, snatched up the fallen spear shaft, which had itself absorbed much of the life blood of the arcane lord, as well as the hidden secret which lie within the burl of the tree.
As flesh and blood came together anew, a wholly unprecidented and awesome force came over them both, making Firulf the equal of his birth-giver, and unto his staff, strange and terrible power was given. Thus was magic made manifest in Elanthia. And with this new and unexpected power, Firulf smote Trothfang mightily, sending the heartless warrior into retreat, for he had no understanding, then, of how he might respond.
And that's the story of Meraud, the wolf, and the birth of Firulf and of how magic came into Elanthia. Or at least that's what my cleric's grandpappy told him by the fireside when he was a lad.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
DEVAN
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
09/18/2008 10:28 PM CDT
How the First Night Fell
Being a brief excerpt from a very ancient epic poem known among certain Olvi folk, here penned by Friar Dalstebandin Dustyfoot, in service to Lord Glythtide, that it may live on in whatever posterity the Gods see fit to bestow.
In elder times when the world was young,
And never a song of sorrow sung,
When Glythtide lived among us still,
No Olvi went without their fill,
For endless bounties were shared by all,
Within the holy feasting hall,
Life was peace in our laughing dell,
In the time before the first night fell.
Entering into our joyous throng,
A beauty with golden hair, and long,
To the laughing lord spoke and smiled,
And soon his sodden brain beguiled,
For none then knew the price come due,
When choosing to entreat the shrew,
And she led him from our singing dell,
Not long before the first night fell.
Then came the folk of double size,
With somber souls and jealous eyes,
Tromping all within the vale,
While we watched with faces pale,
Until their lady, the shadowed shrike,
bade us put unto the spike,
And torches beset our despoiled dell,
That day before the first night fell.
The joyous god then slowly waking,
Still suffering his last merrymaking,
Stumbled home betwixt the trees,
And startled, fell upon his knees,
His cry of sorrow, skyward sent,
Despaired the sun, down it went,
Darkness shrouded our silent dell,
And that is how the first night fell.
As an OOC aside to the above, I'd originally wanted to make this longer, and to write using heroic couplet. Ultimately I decided that Halflings are a simple, straightforward people, and they might not likely do a lot of the digression I was inclined toward, setting up motives for the villains, etc. It's fairly obvious anyway, so why remember more than need be? Four stanzas of four couplets each seems a reasonable length to me, anyhow. As for dedication to poetic style, ultimately the added time it'd require didn't feel worth it. Hopefully it still works.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
Being a brief excerpt from a very ancient epic poem known among certain Olvi folk, here penned by Friar Dalstebandin Dustyfoot, in service to Lord Glythtide, that it may live on in whatever posterity the Gods see fit to bestow.
In elder times when the world was young,
And never a song of sorrow sung,
When Glythtide lived among us still,
No Olvi went without their fill,
For endless bounties were shared by all,
Within the holy feasting hall,
Life was peace in our laughing dell,
In the time before the first night fell.
Entering into our joyous throng,
A beauty with golden hair, and long,
To the laughing lord spoke and smiled,
And soon his sodden brain beguiled,
For none then knew the price come due,
When choosing to entreat the shrew,
And she led him from our singing dell,
Not long before the first night fell.
Then came the folk of double size,
With somber souls and jealous eyes,
Tromping all within the vale,
While we watched with faces pale,
Until their lady, the shadowed shrike,
bade us put unto the spike,
And torches beset our despoiled dell,
That day before the first night fell.
The joyous god then slowly waking,
Still suffering his last merrymaking,
Stumbled home betwixt the trees,
And startled, fell upon his knees,
His cry of sorrow, skyward sent,
Despaired the sun, down it went,
Darkness shrouded our silent dell,
And that is how the first night fell.
As an OOC aside to the above, I'd originally wanted to make this longer, and to write using heroic couplet. Ultimately I decided that Halflings are a simple, straightforward people, and they might not likely do a lot of the digression I was inclined toward, setting up motives for the villains, etc. It's fairly obvious anyway, so why remember more than need be? Four stanzas of four couplets each seems a reasonable length to me, anyhow. As for dedication to poetic style, ultimately the added time it'd require didn't feel worth it. Hopefully it still works.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
GONIFTHEEF
Re: Mythopoeia
09/24/2008 02:37 PM CDT
there are a few of these that have been incorporated in-game.
For instance, the reason why Damaris protects the young? have a bard sing "To catch a thief" - its on a song scroll. If you aren't familiar with it, Basgonif knows it, if you see one of the family around, ask them to have her come sing it for ya. :-)
<<Because it's a gigantic can of worms. Eldritch, necrotic, squamous worms, writhing in a vile stew of coagulating ichor, crushed from the living gullets of a thousand infant puppies, ululating in wordless terror. - Lorz>>
For instance, the reason why Damaris protects the young? have a bard sing "To catch a thief" - its on a song scroll. If you aren't familiar with it, Basgonif knows it, if you see one of the family around, ask them to have her come sing it for ya. :-)
<<Because it's a gigantic can of worms. Eldritch, necrotic, squamous worms, writhing in a vile stew of coagulating ichor, crushed from the living gullets of a thousand infant puppies, ululating in wordless terror. - Lorz>>
DEVAN
Re: Mythopoeia
09/24/2008 10:26 PM CDT
>>there are a few of these that have been incorporated in-game.
Emphasis on "few".
I'd like to see more.
Emphasis on "few".
I'd like to see more.
BARDBLUE
Re: Mythopoeia
10/02/2008 12:36 AM CDT
I am so tempted to spin the old myth about Tamsine and her run-in with the mortal Arachnae, who boasted that she had greater skill at weaving than the goddess, and how the enraged and insulted Harawep showed up to turn the poor lass into a spider...
But, no! I will be original! Let me chew on it a bit...Great idea. Thanks!
CAVEAT EMPTOR: The words printed here are concepts. You must go through the experiences. Or, they'll just fly right over your head.
But, no! I will be original! Let me chew on it a bit...Great idea. Thanks!
CAVEAT EMPTOR: The words printed here are concepts. You must go through the experiences. Or, they'll just fly right over your head.
DEVAN
Re: Mythopoeia
10/02/2008 09:27 AM CDT
>>how the enraged and insulted Harawep showed up to turn the poor lass into a spider...
You could turn that into an explanation for why Tamsine was crying and thus had tears for Phelim to strew across the sky and thus explain Harawep's possible involvement in the current cosmic conundrum?
=P
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
You could turn that into an explanation for why Tamsine was crying and thus had tears for Phelim to strew across the sky and thus explain Harawep's possible involvement in the current cosmic conundrum?
=P
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
BARDBLUE
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 01:03 AM CDT
Well, Tamsine appears to be weeping until we have a big festival. There's a shopaholic lass after my own heart. /s
However, what I'd come up with before the announcement:
Part I
In ancient times of yore, the gods and goddesses walked amongst mortals, sharing our trials and petty sorrows, teaching and guiding mortals so we might grow in wisdom and joy.
In those days, one never knew if the face of the stranger you met hid a divinity in disguise. Folk minded their manners and cared for each other in small ways that we've forgotten in these cynical times.
The goddess Tamsine, in particular, was fond of going about the Human cities where her worship was popular. In the guise of a comfortable matron, she often taught the impetuous, short-lived Humans the gentler arts - weaving and spinning, sewing and cooking. Her tabby cat was frequently seen giving company and comfort to the lonely, the sick and the old. The very winds seemed to whisper with her voice in the temples. Yeoman of all ages and nobles from every walk of life turned to her soft touch for the small blessings and graces of domestic life.
Yet for all the gifts and prayers she received, Tamsine, even though a goddess, was yet much like a very young girl. Centering herself around her worshippers, she yet longed for a love she could call her own. [Don't vomit all over your screen. Hang with me now. There's a point, and it's not mushy, and I'm getting to it.]
The gods love attention, and the young Goddess, spending so much time with Humans, had adopted some of their ways of thinking and become used to the rhythms of their life. She watched young courting couples walk in the gardens, she saw the joy of bride and groom on their wedding day, and her heart filled with an ache, to capture these moments for herself.
(to be continued...)
However, what I'd come up with before the announcement:
Part I
In ancient times of yore, the gods and goddesses walked amongst mortals, sharing our trials and petty sorrows, teaching and guiding mortals so we might grow in wisdom and joy.
In those days, one never knew if the face of the stranger you met hid a divinity in disguise. Folk minded their manners and cared for each other in small ways that we've forgotten in these cynical times.
The goddess Tamsine, in particular, was fond of going about the Human cities where her worship was popular. In the guise of a comfortable matron, she often taught the impetuous, short-lived Humans the gentler arts - weaving and spinning, sewing and cooking. Her tabby cat was frequently seen giving company and comfort to the lonely, the sick and the old. The very winds seemed to whisper with her voice in the temples. Yeoman of all ages and nobles from every walk of life turned to her soft touch for the small blessings and graces of domestic life.
Yet for all the gifts and prayers she received, Tamsine, even though a goddess, was yet much like a very young girl. Centering herself around her worshippers, she yet longed for a love she could call her own. [Don't vomit all over your screen. Hang with me now. There's a point, and it's not mushy, and I'm getting to it.]
The gods love attention, and the young Goddess, spending so much time with Humans, had adopted some of their ways of thinking and become used to the rhythms of their life. She watched young courting couples walk in the gardens, she saw the joy of bride and groom on their wedding day, and her heart filled with an ache, to capture these moments for herself.
(to be continued...)
BARDBLUE
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 01:32 AM CDT
Tamsine's Tears, Part II
The normally gentle and level-headed goddess became quite assertive in her search for a heart to claim. Though most of the Gods studiously avoided her advances, her winning looks and bright, determined smiles caught the glance of fanciful Idon - playful, mischievious Idon. With curly black hair and deep blue eyes, a cleft in his chin and a fondness for the feminine form, Idon left a trail of broken hearts in his footsteps, human and Divine alike.
Tamsine sought to win Idon's affection, practically turning herself inside out to learn the brazen wiles and flirtation she thought might appeal to him. Her altars lay dusty, her worshippers' prayers went unanswered, and her tabby cat was nowhere to be seen in the land of the mortals, for Tamsine had set him to track Idon down, so the goddess might haunt his footsteps.
Finally, her hunt proved fruitful. She found Idon in Knife Clan, sleeping off the consequences of a night of drink and pleasure, in the arms of a young Human lass. Full of newly-learned guile and craft, Tamsine lured the young girl away. Silently, with soft silent steps, she took her place in Idon's arms.
Don't you believe that there is in man a deep so profound as to be hidden even to him in whom it is?
-Saint Augustine
The normally gentle and level-headed goddess became quite assertive in her search for a heart to claim. Though most of the Gods studiously avoided her advances, her winning looks and bright, determined smiles caught the glance of fanciful Idon - playful, mischievious Idon. With curly black hair and deep blue eyes, a cleft in his chin and a fondness for the feminine form, Idon left a trail of broken hearts in his footsteps, human and Divine alike.
Tamsine sought to win Idon's affection, practically turning herself inside out to learn the brazen wiles and flirtation she thought might appeal to him. Her altars lay dusty, her worshippers' prayers went unanswered, and her tabby cat was nowhere to be seen in the land of the mortals, for Tamsine had set him to track Idon down, so the goddess might haunt his footsteps.
Finally, her hunt proved fruitful. She found Idon in Knife Clan, sleeping off the consequences of a night of drink and pleasure, in the arms of a young Human lass. Full of newly-learned guile and craft, Tamsine lured the young girl away. Silently, with soft silent steps, she took her place in Idon's arms.
Don't you believe that there is in man a deep so profound as to be hidden even to him in whom it is?
-Saint Augustine
BARDBLUE
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 02:06 AM CDT
Tamsine's Tears, Part III
Tamsine had her night in Idon's arms, and he seemed pleased and surprised when he woke, though in those hours she never realized that anyone could have taken her place.
When they woke with the dawn, Idon yawned and prepared to leave. The god of mischief never looked past the night's pleasures . Tamsine watched him go, aghast.
What happened next is perhaps left brief - suffice to say, she made a fool of herself like any mortal girl, wishing for the impossible, longing for what had never been. As they watched her alternating between rage and desperation, the gods soon tired of her endless griping and fretting over what girl Idon held now. They took counsel with each other, and Phelim was chosen to offer some wisdom and ensure peace for the divine ears.
Phelim took Tamsine by the hand, and showed her the wreckage of what she'd left behind in her hunt for love. He showed her the widows and children who missed her protection, the homes that needed her blessing, the sad hearts of her worshippers - in short, he showed her all the love that was already hers.
She wept in remorse for time wasted and for her foolishness. Embarrassed and ashamed, her tears flowed in the grief of a lass's loss. Phelim wiped the tears from her lovely face and gently bade her to look up into the skies, where he'd set them as stars in the night sky.
Brilliant and sparkling, tiny pinpoints ephemeral as first love, they brightened the dark time when the moons were hidden or their light was low.
Taking her by the arm again, he turned her face towards her worshippers in their homes. "Here is the fire that you seek," he said quietly. "Your flame lies burning in the hearth of home, where love gives quietly, walks silently, gives gently. Each memory of tenderness given, becomes a place for souls to rest."
Tamsine had her night in Idon's arms, and he seemed pleased and surprised when he woke, though in those hours she never realized that anyone could have taken her place.
When they woke with the dawn, Idon yawned and prepared to leave. The god of mischief never looked past the night's pleasures . Tamsine watched him go, aghast.
What happened next is perhaps left brief - suffice to say, she made a fool of herself like any mortal girl, wishing for the impossible, longing for what had never been. As they watched her alternating between rage and desperation, the gods soon tired of her endless griping and fretting over what girl Idon held now. They took counsel with each other, and Phelim was chosen to offer some wisdom and ensure peace for the divine ears.
Phelim took Tamsine by the hand, and showed her the wreckage of what she'd left behind in her hunt for love. He showed her the widows and children who missed her protection, the homes that needed her blessing, the sad hearts of her worshippers - in short, he showed her all the love that was already hers.
She wept in remorse for time wasted and for her foolishness. Embarrassed and ashamed, her tears flowed in the grief of a lass's loss. Phelim wiped the tears from her lovely face and gently bade her to look up into the skies, where he'd set them as stars in the night sky.
Brilliant and sparkling, tiny pinpoints ephemeral as first love, they brightened the dark time when the moons were hidden or their light was low.
Taking her by the arm again, he turned her face towards her worshippers in their homes. "Here is the fire that you seek," he said quietly. "Your flame lies burning in the hearth of home, where love gives quietly, walks silently, gives gently. Each memory of tenderness given, becomes a place for souls to rest."
DEVAN
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 02:14 PM CDT
Nicely done.
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 09:27 PM CDT
>>Nicely done.
I agree, quite enjoyable. Thanks for taking the time to write it and especially for sharing.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
I agree, quite enjoyable. Thanks for taking the time to write it and especially for sharing.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
ICEOWLL
Re: Mythopoeia
10/11/2008 09:51 PM CDT
I'm very impressed by this piece. What a creative way to elaborate on a story already in game. I really enjoyed that!
- Terra
_______
The very existence of flamethrowers proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, "You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I'm just not close enough to get the job done." -George Carlin
- Terra
_______
The very existence of flamethrowers proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, "You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I'm just not close enough to get the job done." -George Carlin
IDONS-BUDDY
Re: Mythopoeia
10/15/2008 11:25 PM CDT
Alright, I have one. And since I told it tonight before a drunken cleric stumbled in and dumped a chunk of iron on me, here's a transcription. Enjoy.
Many many years ago, there was a glorious temple to Faenella on Aesry, they say. An entire priesthood dedicated to Her worship, and the worship of Her aspects. Priests and priestesses would come and devote themselves in various ways to Faenella, Murrula, and Idon. There was one priestess in particular, her name lost to the ages. She was the jewel of the temple, a woman of unmatched beauty, with goldspun hair and the clearest icy blue eyes, and her grace and talent was unrivaled.
The temple held a grand celebration to Faenella and each aspect one year, and this woman danced for each. When the violins wailed, she danced. When the flutes and choir sung, she danced. And when the kettle drums started, she danced. Naturally, this attracted Idon himself, though unseen he remained as he watched her. Watching this priestess, he became instantly smitten with her. He desired her above all others. But she was devoted to another, a devoted young boy from the city that meant to wed her, and he knew this, he could glean as much from her heart, which was full of love for him. So how to win her heart for himself?
He left to pine, alone and isolated. But soon enough, his brother Huldah came to him, swift as lightning, asking what could possibly ail his brother so, what malady could wound his heart in such a profound manner? Idon explained that he had seen this priestess, knew her beauty and grace and charm, and desired her above all others, knowing he could never have her - for using his power over her would seem like cheating, no? He would not truly have her love if he did that, only her desire, and he wanted more than this. Huldah patiently listened to his brother's plight, and departed as swiftly as he came. And soon Huldah sought out his sister, Kerenhappuch, and told her what their brother Idon had said to him about this mortal girl. Hearing his sad tale, Kerenhappuch and Huldah conspired together, devising a plan to rid their brother of the obstacles in the way of his love - because even dark gods know what it's like to suffer, and they do not generally wish it on each other unless it is necessary.
Kerenhappuch disguised herself, save for her wondrously enchanted skirt, and went to this young boy that was betrothed to the priestess in a place where they were to meet. She seduced him as easily as she does any mortal, and surely enough, the priestess came upon them. Enraged and saddened she fled, and Kerenhappuch vanished, her job done.
Idon heard of this from Huldah, his brother expressing great glee at the success of this plan, and naturally went to the priestess, revealing himself to her and confessing his feelings. He said, 'Am I not a worthy mate? Would I not treat you better than any mortal could?' But she was disgusted, angry, and sad. And she rejected him, the first and only woman ever to do so.
In a sorrowful rage, a horrible angry tempest brewing in his breast, he cursed her, willing that her heart should find no warmth in love, and be a slave forever to the same bitterness he felt at her rejection. And so this beautiful young priestess became the first Frostweaver, the first and only to reject fine Idon, and the first and only to wound his heart so.
But this is not the end of the story. Her boy love, freed from the charm Kerenhappuch had placed on him, went to look for his love, ignorant to her fate. And he came upon her in her new form, cold and hateful and without the warmth of love that had cleaved her so powerfully to life. She tore his throat open with glee and left him to die, stalking into the icy mountains where her progeny live to this day.
And while he lay dying, loving her still with every fiber of his being despite his pain and confusion, Faenella herself came upon him and looked on him in sadness. 'Oh, what great sorrow have my brothers and sisters wrought?' she said. And before her eyes his body shrank, and became a patch of the first snowdrops. To his dying breath he still loved her, and the snowdrops still symbolize a struggle against adversity, and hope for those who know where to look.
Rev. Reene
A drunken cleric says, "Huldah. He is one mean poker player, I hear."
A drunken cleric says, "He cheats, of course."
A drunken cleric says, "Phelimmm. He doesn't cheat. Stupid, if you ask me."
Many many years ago, there was a glorious temple to Faenella on Aesry, they say. An entire priesthood dedicated to Her worship, and the worship of Her aspects. Priests and priestesses would come and devote themselves in various ways to Faenella, Murrula, and Idon. There was one priestess in particular, her name lost to the ages. She was the jewel of the temple, a woman of unmatched beauty, with goldspun hair and the clearest icy blue eyes, and her grace and talent was unrivaled.
The temple held a grand celebration to Faenella and each aspect one year, and this woman danced for each. When the violins wailed, she danced. When the flutes and choir sung, she danced. And when the kettle drums started, she danced. Naturally, this attracted Idon himself, though unseen he remained as he watched her. Watching this priestess, he became instantly smitten with her. He desired her above all others. But she was devoted to another, a devoted young boy from the city that meant to wed her, and he knew this, he could glean as much from her heart, which was full of love for him. So how to win her heart for himself?
He left to pine, alone and isolated. But soon enough, his brother Huldah came to him, swift as lightning, asking what could possibly ail his brother so, what malady could wound his heart in such a profound manner? Idon explained that he had seen this priestess, knew her beauty and grace and charm, and desired her above all others, knowing he could never have her - for using his power over her would seem like cheating, no? He would not truly have her love if he did that, only her desire, and he wanted more than this. Huldah patiently listened to his brother's plight, and departed as swiftly as he came. And soon Huldah sought out his sister, Kerenhappuch, and told her what their brother Idon had said to him about this mortal girl. Hearing his sad tale, Kerenhappuch and Huldah conspired together, devising a plan to rid their brother of the obstacles in the way of his love - because even dark gods know what it's like to suffer, and they do not generally wish it on each other unless it is necessary.
Kerenhappuch disguised herself, save for her wondrously enchanted skirt, and went to this young boy that was betrothed to the priestess in a place where they were to meet. She seduced him as easily as she does any mortal, and surely enough, the priestess came upon them. Enraged and saddened she fled, and Kerenhappuch vanished, her job done.
Idon heard of this from Huldah, his brother expressing great glee at the success of this plan, and naturally went to the priestess, revealing himself to her and confessing his feelings. He said, 'Am I not a worthy mate? Would I not treat you better than any mortal could?' But she was disgusted, angry, and sad. And she rejected him, the first and only woman ever to do so.
In a sorrowful rage, a horrible angry tempest brewing in his breast, he cursed her, willing that her heart should find no warmth in love, and be a slave forever to the same bitterness he felt at her rejection. And so this beautiful young priestess became the first Frostweaver, the first and only to reject fine Idon, and the first and only to wound his heart so.
But this is not the end of the story. Her boy love, freed from the charm Kerenhappuch had placed on him, went to look for his love, ignorant to her fate. And he came upon her in her new form, cold and hateful and without the warmth of love that had cleaved her so powerfully to life. She tore his throat open with glee and left him to die, stalking into the icy mountains where her progeny live to this day.
And while he lay dying, loving her still with every fiber of his being despite his pain and confusion, Faenella herself came upon him and looked on him in sadness. 'Oh, what great sorrow have my brothers and sisters wrought?' she said. And before her eyes his body shrank, and became a patch of the first snowdrops. To his dying breath he still loved her, and the snowdrops still symbolize a struggle against adversity, and hope for those who know where to look.
Rev. Reene
A drunken cleric says, "Huldah. He is one mean poker player, I hear."
A drunken cleric says, "He cheats, of course."
A drunken cleric says, "Phelimmm. He doesn't cheat. Stupid, if you ask me."
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
10/16/2008 05:29 AM CDT
Well done, quite enjoyable. Thanks for sharing.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
LIURIDR
Re: Mythopoeia
10/16/2008 08:14 AM CDT
---Well done, quite enjoyable. Thanks for sharing.
I couldn't agree more.
I couldn't agree more.
DEVAN
ALDEN
Re: Mythopoeia
10/16/2008 11:19 PM CDT
That was lovely.
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
"militantly enforcing the overly rigid standards of you and your small collection of friends"
DEVAN
Re: Mythopoeia
11/04/2008 10:27 AM CST
So, seeing as I can't come up with a plot to save my life, I've decided to try playing Jakob Grimm for NaNoWriMo instead. What I'm going to do is assign "authorship" to the stories that have been posted here (assuming they haven't already taken that) and repost them in my own words on Book of Tales.
If anyone has an objection to this, in whole or in part, please let me know, either via email or here. Thanks.
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
If anyone has an objection to this, in whole or in part, please let me know, either via email or here. Thanks.
---
"Close your eyes -
For your eyes will only tell the truth..
And the truth isn't what you want to see.
In the dark, it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be." - Erik Claudin
NJP
Re: Mythopoeia
11/04/2008 01:22 PM CST
No objections here.
I've also got a few more I've been hashing out off and on for a while, when I get them finished I'll probably crosspost them here and to the book of tales.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
I've also got a few more I've been hashing out off and on for a while, when I get them finished I'll probably crosspost them here and to the book of tales.
"Now won't you tell me if you like what you've just heard?
And if you think the point I'm driving at absurd,
Well there's no need to tell me how or tell me why,
But I need to know the reason not to try."
- John Popper, Onslaught
IDONS-BUDDY
Re: Mythopoeia
11/04/2008 01:49 PM CST
I don't care.
Rev. Reene
Gylwyn says to you, "Heretics are often the finders of truth."
Rev. Reene
Gylwyn says to you, "Heretics are often the finders of truth."
