Myths, Legends and Folklore

## The Creation

### **Creation Myth (Southern Variant)**

First, there was nothingness. Darkness blacker and heavier than a velvet cape, a void eternal. This was the heart of A ’Bhean Dorcha, and she was everything and nothing. She slumbered in the darkness, and dreamed into being her children; the gods. Magnus came first, then Cosima, followed by Skiaselvyn. Magnus and Cosima married, and their children were Brutus and Annatarra. As each god came into being, a bright speck of light lit up the sky; these were the first of the stars. More gods formed; Lyre and Sigismund, Mordon and Florentina; Omar and Fifaldia. Finally, A ’Bhean Dorcha woke and saw her children, and loved them. Out of love, she created gifts for them all; Magnus, received the power of the storms and the lightning; while for Cosmia she made the sun and the moon to set in her dark hair. To Skiaselveyn she gave the knowledge of all things; Annatarra received the ability to balance right and wrong. Brutus received unmatchable skill in battle; Lyre the ability to see into the hearts of others and guide them to love. Sigismund asked only for the ability to fight all things evil and impure, while Mordon was gifted her forge, where she could create all things she desired. Florentina received a golden mask and a silver tongue, gifting her with her skills of persuasion. Omar and Fifialdia asked for somewhere of their own to create and grow life and to make it beautiful. For them,  A ’Bhean Dorcha created our world, and gave Omar the deep, swirling oceans. Florentina received the earth, where she delighted in growing flowers and trees and crops.

## End of Days

### **The Rising of the Dark Sun (Southern Myth)**

At the end of all things, the seas will turn as red as wine, and the sun will rise dark in the sky. A ’Bhean Dorcha (The Dark Lady) will take the souls of every living thing in her hands and gently carry them away as the seas overspill the land and the world turns as black as the void from whence it came. Like a mother carrying a child, the Lady will guide us all into the realm beyond as our mortal world crumbles away.

## Mythical Creatures

### Fae

Fae are immortal creatures from myth, who are said to have once wandered the world before the birth of mortals. They make appearances in folklore of various nations, but accounts are often confused and cannot agree on whether they were benevolent or wicked.

There is no historical evidence for any existence of such creatures, although their existence cannot be ruled out altogether due to the great loss of information during the Age of Darkness and the Age of Magic.

Some scholars theorise that these tales come from other species meeting elves for the first time. With a history of magical prowess, and incredibly long lifespans, elves may have appeared to primal humans as all powerful mythical figures, leading to myths and tales surrounding ‘Fae’.

### Daemons

The theology of Vitalum says that in the early ages before mortals, only Gods and Daemons reigned. However, the Daemons were beings of evil and corruption, and they looked upon the gods and were jealous of their virtue and power. They tried to overthrow the Deities, but were cast down and destroyed.

Most people believe that Daemons are largely symbolic within theology, and they mainly represent the darkness within ourselves, which Sigismund stands as a bastion against, keeping people on the right path.

## Folklore

### **The Vault**

The War was over. The dust had settled, and with it a sense of calm and peace rested across the land. Time moved ever onwards. Mortals soon forgot the war, and in place of the memories, the dust began to swirl once more. Most of mankind seemed to think all was well, but fear began to swell within the Locksmith. He looked upon his people, saw smiling, innocent faces, and the thirst for bloodshed that hid just beneath the surface. He knew that the Merchant’s weapons still lived across the land, all but forgotten after peace was enforced. He knew the devastation they could wreak, the hatred they could sow. He knew that one must act to avoid the inevitable. And so, he acted.

His family set about roaming the earth, searching high and low for the Merchant’s weapons. Meanwhile, he began to build; build the safest, most secure, most secluded vault that he hoped the world would never see. He worked tirelessly, day in and day out for weeks, months, years, until finally, the vault was complete. Finally, he could rest, knowing the only way to even find the vault’s entrance, and the only way to open the vault door, was with one, singular, key.

With the vault prepared, and the family having gathered such terrible weapons, he saw to it that the world could finally, and unknowingly, sleep peacefully once more. For decades he protected that vault, that key, that doorway, with his life until one day, he had no more life left to give. It is said that when he passed, he gave the key to his youngest child, with his one wish to be that the vault remained, forever locked.

### **The Gift of the Priestess**

***A traditional southern folktale from the lands of Clan Dubhdris. It is connected with the southern tradition of carving rowan wood amulets and hanging dried rowan berries over a doorway. It is also thought to be linked to the Southern belief that red is a protective colour, which is why it is one of the colours of the Warriors of the Black Sun.***

In a small village to the south of the land now called Asaterra, a young priestess lived, tending the altar of Lady Death. She was a beautiful young elf maiden, with hair as dark as a raven’s wing, and eyes as green as the leaves. She spent her days in service to the people of the town, healing the sick, supporting the elderly, and teaching the children to read. She was beloved by all.

One day, a child vanished from the village. The villagers all came together, hunting far and wide for a trace of the missing child. Crops went untended in the field; the anvil fires went cold; the lord left his hall and searched through the woods with the townsfolk on hands and knees, but there was no sign of the boy. The loss of a child is a great grief to Southern folk, but they are not a people to give up. A further search was planned for the next morning, and the hearthfires were kept burning bright in case the child needed to find his way back home. However, when they awoke the next day, another child was gone. And so it continued; each morning, the village would wake, and a child would have vanished without trace. A watch was set each night; the children would all be taken to the Lord’s hall and locked up and guarded. But still, every morning, one would be gone.

Now, the priestess was known to be as wise as she was kind. The lord begged her to help the villagers, and she was more than happy to do so. For three days and three nights, she fasted under the great yew tree which held the goddesses altar. On the third night, the goddess came before her, and the priestess begged her for aid.

‘You bear my symbol,’ the goddess said, ‘Now bear my blessing.’

And she blessed the iron amulet that the priestess wore. Then she handed her her own cape of shadows, and shrouded the priestess in it’s folds.

The priestess returned to the lord’s halls, where she was locked inside with the guards and the remaining children. She waited until the early hours of the morning, when suddenly a strange mist washed over the room. The guards all drooped, as though caught in an enchanted sleep, but the priestesses amulet burned against her skin, and she managed to resist the sorcery. She crept back, hiding behind a pillar as a woman with hair of starlight and eyes as black as the sky appeared in the room from nowhere. She was the most beautiful creature that the priestess had ever seen; her face was so lovely, and so kind that she hardly seemed real. It was only when she smiled that the priestess saw her razor teeth lurking behind her blossom pink lips.

The woman strode forwards and took a sleepy child by the hand, beginning to lead him away. Every fibre of the priestess’ being strained to stop her, but she was wiser than to do so. She knew, deep in her soul that this was no mortal creature, and that she would not be able to defeat her by force.

Pulling the cloak of shadows around her, she stepped out and followed the creature noiselessly through the village, concealed by the power of the Dark Lady. The creature moved swiftly, her hair sparkling in the starlight, and soon they had approached the foot of one of the tall, jagged mountains to the east of the village.

The creature vanished through a crack in the mountainside, and the priestess followed her, heading deep inside the mountain. There, she saw all the missing children in some sort of dream; their clothes were ragged and their eyes hollow, but they smiled and laughed and sang as if they were at a festival.

Soon, the creature left the mountain, and the priestess rushed forwards to try and awaken the children, but to no avail. Finally, she sank to her knees, and as she pressed her hands to her chest, her thumb caught on the sharp cloak pin of the goddesses robe. A drop of blood splashed to the ground, but to her amazement, when it landed a sprig of scarlet berries appeared. When the child touched the berries, they blinked, and began to cry, suddenly awakened from their daze. The priestess quickly moved from child to child, pricking her thumb with Lady Death’s cloak pin. Each time, a sprig of berries formed, and when a child held them, they were released from the spell. Gathering all the children together, the priestess led them back to the village, where the people of the town rejoiced to see them.

However, the creature was enraged when she returned to find her collection gone. She descended on the town in fury, her terrible eyes glittering with vengeance. The warriors of the town drew their swords, but she cut them down one by one with terrible magics, her talons slick with their blood. The priestess threw the cloak of shadows over the children, gathering them into it’s endless depths to hide them from the monster, and channelled all her magic to defend against this creature, shielding as many villagers as she could from harm. Finally, the monster reached her, and the priestess felt her barrier beginning to fail. Desperately, she called out a prayer to her goddess to protect the village, just as the barrier shattered. The creature plunged her talons into the priestesses chest, but as her heartsblood fell upon the ground, a great rowan tree sprouted, rich with blood red berries. The creature screamed as if burnt as the wood of the tree touched her, and turned and fled from the town.

From that day on, all the townsfolk kept the red berries of the rowan tree hanging above their door, and the creature never came back.