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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
 Posted - 08 Jun 2021 : 11:36:51
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Edited for clarity.
My fellow sages, masters, and other learned fellows. I recently had to alter one of my tabletop games with little notice to account for some players being a few hours late when all of my players are champing at the bit to start gaming as soon as they arrive. I grabbed an idea from outside the game system, dressed it up with FR color, and fiat-winged the decision results with nothing more than a few notions for how to resolve conflicts in my head - a "Mythwalk," which is a communal ritual that propels the key actors into "another realm" where they are to act as a specific god or gods to reenact important stories of the religion to gain the favor of the honored deity in a predetermined way for the story selected. This story was for how Lathander found a new thing called "Spring" and transported it to Chauntea highlighting a clear division between the deities of civilization and natural deities in their power over the world of mortals.
The thing is, I am not good with coming up with these kinds of stories. In fact, the Civs vs. Natural gods was just a happy accident that my players noticed before I did. My players ate it up, though. Worse, they want to know more about these apocryphal & wildly inaccurate god myths so they can start planning the next Mythwalk. The FR game books don't have this in the personable style that is common to RW religions and can be reworked into the Mythwalk format that my players found bizarre and neat.
The story of how Spring flourishes when Chauntea breaks free from Auril's imprisonment because of the actions of Lathander to bring Spring to her is not canon, probably isn't even fanon, and certainly doesn't change how anything really happens just because some worshipers have this told to them in the services of all/most/some/one church's priest(s), but through the Mythwalk that directed belief can create a communal effect. That story takes hold because it is personable and has a scale that can be understood by the worshipers which explains the actions that continue to define the world without having the entirety of the faith & dogma rammed down their throats in a single sitting.
I'm not just asking, I'm begging for help. What kind of help? The religious stories from which I can make Mythwalks have an organic feel for what it must have been like for the deities in specific situations to have gone through ordeals and not in the framework of a textbook that simply states "this was done... Next!" Where did the gods each come from? How did they acquire their powers? In what ways does their powers interact with those of other gods and what are the stories of that? Why is there deific grudge matches and what are the warning signs of trouble brewing? What makes the holy days important and why should they be ritually honored? How did various holy things become sacred? The stories themselves are sermons that resonate with people and activates their desires to worship the gods.
The FR has a rich pantheon of gods, so any stories of just a few sentences for any of the gods would be great. Canon, fanon, your own, it does not matter. I just need launch points.
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Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
Edited by - SaMoCon on 11 Jun 2021 00:56:22
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ElfBane
Learned Scribe
USA
275 Posts |
Posted - 11 Jun 2021 : 08:27:06
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*an answer that does not help*
RANT ON:
It would greatly help if WotC publications would consistently provide.... INDEXES!!!!!! My only FR sourcebook with an index (my collection isn't huge) is KWF's "the Forgotten Realms Atlas". And I suspect that she did the index, not WotC.
RANT OFF: |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 11 Jun 2021 : 21:32:21
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Okaaaay?
What has Lathander done that is worthy of talking about? The ancient Greek god of the sun, Apollo, has the laurel tree and laureates as being important in his faith because of stories involving Apollo being cursed with love for Daphne but she fled from his advances eventually turning into a laurel tree to escape thus transferring his unrequited love into venerating the laurel tree. Apollo & his older twin sister Artemis came from the union of Zeus, king of gods, and Leto, a female titan, who immediately grew to adulthood when fed ambrosia because Leto could not feed him her milk establishing the origin & connection of the two gods. The hyacinth flower is connected to Apollo because it was created from the blood of the man Apollo loved whom he accidentally killed with a ricocheted discus throw, also spawning the sacred Spring rituals of the Spartans. The hawk being associated with Appollo because a mortal princess lover of Apollo, Chione, pestered the god to say she was more beautiful than his sister, Artemis, until he did so which caused Artemis to try to slay Chione in a fit of rage with Apollo turning Chione into a hawk so that she may escape his sister's wrath. This is but just a handful of stories and they all have several variations that changes the context of their doings and displaying differing moral values of revenge, mercy, fidelity, honesty, obligation, duty, and family bonds. These stories also gave us the reasons for why certain objects, animals, activities, and days were considered sacred to the worship of Apollo. Apollo was considered one of the more just & fair Greek gods but the stories showed how passionate he was, and how childish & harsh he could be when slighted.
Too many of the gods were just suddenly "there" in the FR with no origin, no explanation for how they were connected to, well, anything. What do we know about the origins of Beshaba, Ilmater, Helm, Malar, and Silvanus? Too many of the relationships between the gods are just declared without any explanation for how they came about or why they should be considered more than affiliations of convenience. What exactly does a cleric of any one of the gods actually talk about when attempting to proselytize the masses day after day. If there is only a handful of stories then the masses would have very few parables that would be useful in their daily lives, little empathy shared with the deities in question, and few reasons to listen again. More so, these stories were meant to explain everything about the world from why there are landmasses to how fire was discovered. |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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LordofBones
Master of Realmslore
1477 Posts |
Posted - 14 Jun 2021 : 03:25:12
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| Lathander sparked off the Dawn Cataclysm and killed Sammaster. The better question is what is everyone else doing. |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 16 Jun 2021 : 20:33:28
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The Dawn Cataclysm wasn't a cataclysm as mortals would define that word, took longer to happen than most of Faerun's inhabitants have time for in several generations, and is mostly outside the understanding of said mortals. It is a vague event that has never been described by the writing staff... on purpose - we don't even know what Lathander was doing beyond what he was hoping to achieve. So what would a cleric of Lathander even say about the Dawn Coup Attempt(s?)? It is hardly sermon worthy material, and would most likely serve as fodder for other denominations to sway prospective Lathander worshipers away from praying to "that usurper god." And his avatar's smiting of Sammaster has what to do with the price of tea in Shou for the worshipers in Faerun? These stories have no connection to mortal daily life - and that's the problem.
People like seeing their objects of worship in the world around them from explanations for why there are that many days in their week to how the things in their world even came about. Each faith would have its own "Book of Genesis," which is to say that each would have its own bible full of stories that connect the works of their god to mortal lives. WotC doesn't have the stones to print quasi-religious color of this detail/magnitude nor does it have the financial incentive to print what is essentially limited use/interest material for the FR. I mean the setting has been published for how many decades under TSR & WotC with how much clamor for this type of content? It is this level of laissez-faire attitude that has allowed the FR to flourish in private gaming with no two realms being alike. The fanon is what I am looking to tap into for the writers, deep-thinkers, and other creative types that have come up with their own stories and ideas to help explain the world from a mythological perspective.
Example: Lathander and Shar herald the change of seasons as a see-sawing struggle for control of the sky over the FR. The longest day is the high water mark of Lathander that marks the start of summer while the high water mark for Shar is the longest night that marks the start of winter with the waxing and waning of the two into the two days of equal day/night marking the start of spring or fall. The fall of the old sun god, and resumption of the struggle against Shar by the new sun god Lathander should be integral to that story while minor aspects which may or may not appear in regional sermons should account for the nature gods Silvanus, Chauntea, Talos, Auril, the elemental fire god whose name eludes me right now, and/or Selune. This should account for why the seasons change, why the change days should be honored, and what each stage means in spritual & material terms. As can be seen from my example I can create the "what" and the "why" if I have a real world analogy but my weakness is writing that "how" in the divine style for the myth as well as anything dealing with story parameters outside of RW similarities like the turbulent mind sets of gods and ritual practices that would emulate godly events.
It's not just Lathander in whom I am interested but all of the gods' stories that are not inside the published books, which is to say "your stories." Right, wrong, accurate with attention to detail, or contradictory & sloppy - I am interested in seeing what ideas everyone else has had regarding myths and legends of the deities around which the FR revolves. |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 24 Jun 2021 : 10:49:14
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My example above I have just turned into the kind of story I was asking for. The following would be a sermon used by a priest of Lathander or a storyteller sympathetic to Lathander's spiritual doctrine to explain a measurable natural phenomena.
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Lathander, Harbinger of Spring
The world was in the grip of an old thing called Winter when Lathander first donned the Corona of Daylight to become the Morninglord and contested with Shar for dominion of the skies above Toril. As their struggles brought night and day to the ground beneath their battlefield, our new god of the sun became interested in the people on the icy ground below who seemed to be only active when he had banished Shar from the sky, but then sheltered and became dormant when Shar rose exultant in his absence. Lathander saw how the people clawed desperately at the ground, chased after prey animals, and scoured the Always-Green plants for sustenance that became ever more scarce as Winter froze the natural world to a stand still. In the shadows of the peoples’ actions, Lathander could see Bane - the god of strife, Bhaal - the god of murder, & Myrkul - the god of death, collectively known as the Dead Three, gleefully tormenting the people by chasing them in their spectral guises of impending doom - Fear, Want, & Starvation. There were other gods trying to help the mortals, but all of their efforts to succor and guide their worshippers vanished in the ensuing panic when the specters appeared again and again. Lathander, too, wanted to come down and help the people, but he knew he would be just as helpless as the other gods to stop the suffering by doing so.
Lathander retired from the sky to think, letting Shar bring back the darkness of night as he pondered what to do about the chaos and suffering in the world. Deciding that the disunity and strife was being caused by the people’s constant hunger, he looked for the sources of food when he banished Shar from the sky the following morning. Auril was in her dominion upon Toril as Winter leeched all sustenance from everywhere Lathander looked. He saw the fertile farm fields covered with snow. He saw the fish-filled lakes and rivers covered by ice. He saw the fruitful bushes’ and trees’ naked branches shaking in the cold wind gusts. He saw the migrating fat fowl prevented from returning by storms. He saw the dwindling herds shivering in the cold, unable to multiply. As long as Winter remained, Auril’s awful powers would continue to starve all.
But Lanthander also noticed that Auril’s power was not so strong around a group of mortals encircled by the specters of the Dead Three. The mortals were frantically keeping an ancient thing called Spring away from the three gods at great cost to themselves. In a great radiance of light, Lathander came down among them and banished the specters of darkness from his presence. Awed by his arrival, the group of mortals debated among themselves about what to do. Lathander knew that mortals no more liked to be told what to do than gods themselves, so he waited for them to arrive at a decision. They were powerless and afraid and clinging to anything that might give them some semblance of control. Finally, they realized that what they had they could not use to help themselves, and they could not let the Dead Three have it. The mortals showed Spring to Lathander and asked him what to do. “This thing does not belong to you,” Lathander said, “And it is too powerful to try to keep, even for me, but I can take it to the Sleeping Goddess and she will use it to chase off Winter.” The mortals had seen how Lathander’s power had grown day by day to eclipse that of Shar, and so they decided to give the sun god the thing called Spring, an event we celebrate by marking the vernal equinox.
Attracted by the power of Spring, other gods were drawn to Lathander as he struggled under his new burden. Some were gods of the savages whose names we don’t need to know, others were ancient gods whose names we have forgotten, and others were the civilized gods whose names we use in worship to this day. As more gods came up to him with curious and power-hungry looks in their eyes, Lathander could sense a storm of trouble coming. Fortunately, the Morninglord recognized two who he could trust to act according to their own codes of conduct. Lathander salutated, “Hail Foehammer, Tempus. Hail Merchants’ Friend, Waukeen.” Tempus was distracted by the tensions of the mortals and gods, and merely grunted in response to Lathander’s greeting. Waukeen was far more verbose in her reply and had completed three topics of conversation before Lathander had finished his hello to her. “I need your help in getting Spring to where Chauntea sleeps in an arctic prison to end this barren Winter and feed the mortals.”
“The thing called Spring has value to many gods for which it can fetch handsome rewards.” Waukeen said. “Why should I be yoked with this task without recompense? What profit is there in doing something that will be worth the labor and danger involved?” The Fight-Everyone-God glared with contempt at the Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles, but nodded in agreement with her all the same.
Lathander smiled, for he knew these two gods well. "Follow me and I will take you to where a great negotiation & a great fight await you both." For all the suffering in Faerun, nothing motivated the Fight-Everyone-God and the Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles like a challenge to exercise their special skills. The Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles produced a delivery contract that was mysteriously already signed by Lathander while the Fight-Everyone-God merely clapped Lathander on the shoulder with a smirk and started scattering the gods and mortals in the trio’s path.
As they journeyed into the frozen lands, wilder gods began to be seen shadowing the three gods. It was not long after that a blast of ice and freezing wind heralded the arrival of a dangerous obstacle. An army of gods representing a plethora of natural world aspects blocked Lathander’s way, with none other than the Frostmaiden herself at their head. "That does not belong to you," Auril said, "and thus you violate the natural laws. Therefore, I make you my possession, and all of your possessions are likewise mine. Give me the thing called Spring." As those words were spoken, the natural gods surrounded Lathander & his party.
The Fight-Everyone-God was eager to do as his name says, however, Lathander saw Chauntea’s older brother, Silvanus, among the rabble of natural gods and was struck by inspiration. The Treefather slunk among the other gods independent of Auril’s orders and stared greedily at the thing called Spring. Like his younger sister, Silvanus would, too, grow strong and bountiful with the power of the thing called Spring. “Save your strength, Foehammer, for when we will need it most,” said Lathander as he held Tempus back from charging into the throng around them. "Waukeen, go convince Silvanus that he should be the one to own the thing called Spring."
The Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles seemed to be abandoning her two friends so the natural gods ignored her as she went to the Treefather and informed him that the Frostmaiden would never share Spring, which should be rightfully his. This caused an uproar as the Treefather bulled through the other gods in a rage to directly confront the Frostmaiden over the ownership of the thing called Spring. Waukeen waited for just that moment before she called on her greatest power, producing a cloud of coins confusing and blinding everyone allowing the trio to escape.
The natural gods howled their frustrations and raced after the fleeing party. Auril and Silvanus followed the trio’s path quickly and true while the others went in directions lead by their wild sense and instincts. The Frostmaiden and the Treefather called out to Lathander, telling him that his quest was in vain, that the mortals owed nothing more to him than to his predecessor whom wore the Corona of Daylight. They promised him things and cajoled him to turn over the thing called Spring. "Do you mistake me for a vassal?" scoffed Lathander. This rebuffing heartened the Fight-Everyone-God and the Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles, and the trio were able to keep ahead of the madly pursuing gods until the reached the hill of snow under which Chauntea slept.
At the foot of the hill to meet the approaching gods was a nasty surprise. The Dead Three, no longer wearing their spectral guises, blocked access up the hill. "What have you there? Is that the thing called Spring over which the natural gods are now fighting? The world of mortals will continue to die without it so we will take it from you,” they said. With the natural gods converging in pursuit, any delay of the Dead Three imperiled the quest.
“Now is the time,” said Lathander, “to use your strength, Foehammer.” The Fight-Everyone-God dove into the Dead Three in a whirl of weapons and fists, instantly smashing the blocking gods to the ground. He waved Lathander and the Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles to go on without him. “I will beat anyone who tries to follow you,” the Fight-Everyone-God said with a smile before diving back into the melee.
The Goddess-Who-Counts-Metal-Circles took one step on the hill and stopped. “My delivery contract is complete, Dawnbringer. One delivery to Chauntea’s place of imprisonment for one great negotiation,” said Waukeen before she turned on her heel and walked away.
Lathander continued to climb up the hill alone, but the natural gods who followed their own paths swarmed on the solitary sun god as he struggled up the hill. The only place to still reach Chauntea was a single breath hole at the top of the hill that reaches all the way down where she peacefully snores. As the others latched a hold of the Morninglord to drag him down, it reminded him of his daily chore ascending the sky with the Corona of Daylight to light up the world. Lathander called upon the power of his crown to dazzle and blind the gods assailing him, and strode unhindered the rest of the way up the hill to drop the thing called Spring down to Chauntea.
Auril shrieked in dismay, and the natural gods turned away in disappointment, but nothing seemed to happen as Lathander descended the hill and resumed his labors against Shar in the sky. As to what Chauntea did with the thing called Spring, that is another story, but from that day forward, the thing called Spring made gradual changes that returned hope to the mortals who worked, and worshipped, and celebrated under Lathander’s dominion of daylight. Auril’s reign over the world melted like ice in the warm rays of the sun. This is why the sun is important for determining the start of spring and why we celebrate it.
This is my first real stab at a story of greek-style mythology. Thoughts? Opinions? Criticisms? |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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Lord Karsus
Great Reader
USA
3736 Posts |
Posted - 24 Jun 2021 : 18:59:03
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-Not sure if this is really helpful, but I had a character whose backstory revolved around being recovering a holy relic of Lathander's church and I had a quick background story of said item(s):
quote:
Eons ago, perhaps before time was recorded, Lathander the sun deity was among numerous deities invited to an event of cosmic relevance- two deities, the identities of both have been lost to the sands of time, were getting married. Before the event, Lathander reached into the sun itself to fashion himself a brilliant crown to wear at the festivities.
At the event, Lathander looked magnificent. The glorious crown had an unintended effect, however- the bride grew jealous of the attention being showered upon Lathander at her event. As time passed, she grew more and bitter and eventually enacted a plan to get some measure of revenge. During the ceremonies, she spiked Lathander’s goblet of wine with a potent sleeping agent, which worked as intended and put the Morninglord to sleep. As he slept, the bride crept up to him and removed the radiant crown. She cast a mighty enchantment on it to prevent Lathander from finding it, and removed the 10 gemstones that adorned it. She cast each gem into the void in a different direction, and finally cast away the crown itself.
When Lathander awoke, his crown had disappeared, and using his own magics, he was unable to divine it’s whereabouts. As a result, for hundreds of years, the Church of Lathander has been looking for the magical crown fashioned from a piece of the sun itself.
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(A Tri-Partite Arcanist Who Has Forgotten More Than Most Will Ever Know)
Elves of Faerûn
Vol I- The Elves of Faerûn
Vol. III- Spells of the Elves
Vol. VI- Mechanical Compendium |
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BrennonGoldeye
Learned Scribe
105 Posts |
Posted - 28 Jun 2021 : 19:44:16
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quote:
Originally posted by Lord Karsus
-Not sure if this is really helpful, but I had a character whose backstory revolved around being recovering a holy relic of Lathander's church and I had a quick background story of said item(s):
quote:
Eons ago, perhaps before time was recorded, Lathander the sun deity was among numerous deities invited to an event of cosmic relevance- two deities, the identities of both have been lost to the sands of time, were getting married. Before the event, Lathander reached into the sun itself to fashion himself a brilliant crown to wear at the festivities.
At the event, Lathander looked magnificent. The glorious crown had an unintended effect, however- the bride grew jealous of the attention being showered upon Lathander at her event. As time passed, she grew more and bitter and eventually enacted a plan to get some measure of revenge. During the ceremonies, she spiked Lathander’s goblet of wine with a potent sleeping agent, which worked as intended and put the Morninglord to sleep. As he slept, the bride crept up to him and removed the radiant crown. She cast a mighty enchantment on it to prevent Lathander from finding it, and removed the 10 gemstones that adorned it. She cast each gem into the void in a different direction, and finally cast away the crown itself.
When Lathander awoke, his crown had disappeared, and using his own magics, he was unable to divine it’s whereabouts. As a result, for hundreds of years, the Church of Lathander has been looking for the magical crown fashioned from a piece of the sun itself.
Stolen... |
Sam |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 28 Jun 2021 : 23:14:14
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quote:
Originally posted by BrennonGoldeye
Stolen...
Brennon Goldeye, are you saying that Lord Karsus stole that idea from another source? Or are you making the statement that you are stealing that story idea from Lord Karsus post. The difference in verb tense carries different connotations for those of us whom are reading the scrolls after the fact. Without more context, your post implies an accusation. I want to think that you meant to let Lord Karsus know that you thought the story was good enough for you to use in your own game, but that is wishful thinking on my part without any context in your post to back up that thinking. A few more words and putting actions in the present tense reduces any possible confusion.
quote:
Originally posted by SaMoCon
That's a good'un, LK. Hey, is that an Obvious Distraction™ over there? *steals* I guess it was. Would-you-look-at-the-time-I-got-to-go-bye! *scamper*
I mean, I like that story, too, and I see how that can be interpreted in different ways.
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Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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Lord Karsus
Great Reader
USA
3736 Posts |
Posted - 01 Jul 2021 : 02:22:45
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-Brennon is stealing it from me, that ne'er-do-well.
-The item by itself gave the wearer an AC bonus and the ability to use Searing Light a few times a day. Each gemstone that was found basically acted like an Ioun Stone that floated around the crown and were the seven colors of the rainbow plus like white, gold, and whatever else to fill in 10. Each one unlocked another power, most of which I've forgotten. I only remember one maximized all healing spells, one gave immunity to all diseases and poisons, one was Fire Shield, and thematic things like that. Wasn't really that powerful, most of the things were like passive/defensive powers. |
(A Tri-Partite Arcanist Who Has Forgotten More Than Most Will Ever Know)
Elves of Faerûn
Vol I- The Elves of Faerûn
Vol. III- Spells of the Elves
Vol. VI- Mechanical Compendium |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 15 Jul 2021 : 21:54:30
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Well, glad that was cleared up. The original story idea you had I am incorporating into a larger adventure myth because it provides a good setting basis for a multi-quest fable. I'll post it up once I'm done writing it. I went back and started mining ideas from earlier work I had done on relics in the Art Objects of Faerun scroll since most of those had snippets of godly lore. One of those items referenced the Dawn Cataclysm and I worked on that to create a story that may be used by the priests of Lathander.
quote:
Lathander, God of the Morning Sun, truly shines with all that is good, but not all good things bring about good changes in the world. Just as the brightest light still creates shadows, making changes to the world to make it good creates bad in ways that are not always predictable. This is a story of Lathander from when he was still new to the role of the sun god, and still trying to reconcile the duties of the old sun god with what Lathander knew the world needed.
The deific burdens of Lathander began when he first picked up the fallen Corona of the Sun from the feeble and exhausted old god whom could no longer bear its weight. Prior to this assumption of godly authority, Lathander acted according to his beliefs and righted many wrongs with his own two hands, but this responsibility was something entirely new. The old sun god had been meticulous, officious, judicious, and callous in what he did and how he treated both gods & mortals under his power. Just as with his other challenges from his younger days, Lathander quickly mastered the rising and setting of the Corona of the Sun and he set about reordering the long-abused or neglected relationships of the sun to all beneath its beams.
The power of the sun was undeniable, and its existence drove almost every aspect of life on Toril without which most of the gods would simply fade to nothingness. With this singular truth, Lathander drafted a grand plan to create friendships and alliances with all the gods under the fundamental concept that he would lend his strength to support every one of them. As it is with the divine so too would it be for the mortals in Lathander’s plans ensuring that no one would be left out. Such was the plan that it would create harmony from the natural world to the diverse peoples of Toril and even unto the realms of the gods.
Lathander spoke to a human craftsman of the greatest human nation to perform his divine work. Some say that it was a netherese mage or a calishite noble, but he was in truth a humble priest on the fringes of Jhaamdath who had not given up his faith of the old sun god before Lathander chose his hands for this important task. The priest accomplished in a day what a team of stonemasons could not accomplish in a tenday - the creation of twelve great tablets and five lesser tablets upon which the Solar Order was written in script that transposed barriers of language & literacy to be understood by any mortal creature looking at them. This was the message to the mortal realm what’s content was mirrored in messages sent throughout the gods’ realms.
The Solar Order allowed for all to prosper, and all should have been good, but gods, like mortals, do not always act in their own best interests, and rarely act for the benefit of others. Some felt the sting of wounded pride in being reminded of the sun’s place over theirs in the natural order. Others felt the backhanded slap of authority against their own rising ambitions & plans. More bristled at the humiliation of being offered charity while still more were appalled at being treated equally to others. A few were chagrined at the audacity of the newly christened sun god, and a few more were churlish at the notion of being asked to work together for a common good. In such ways do the gods reveal they are more like mortals than not.
The reactions and counter-actions were many as each god responded in their own way and in their own time. Some gods undercut others in anticipation of any changes to their statuses. Some gods diminished, tore themselves apart, or were killed in the tumult. The strife of the heavens affected the world as natural calamities bedeviled the mortal nations and reshaped the land over the course of the centuries. The stone tablets inscribed with Lathander’s plan crumbled just like the Solar Order. The old priest, having seen his divinely inspired work disintegrate in his possession and his homeland drowned beneath colossal waves of water, believed he was responsible for committing some grievous sin and threw himself from a cliff.
Lathander was heartbroken and chastened by the suffering caused by even suggesting something coming so close to perfection. People hate perfection, beauty, and talent in others that exceeds their own - and that was the most terrible epiphany for Lathander to learn. Anything involving others must include them in the planning. Actions for which the consequences may involve others, help from those others should be solicited. One must always be open to listening to the opinions of all before committing to a course of action lest others undercut your efforts out of personal malice for slights never offered or intended. And, finally, all interactions with others will be or become toxic if one is ignorant of how one’s strengths are perceived by others whom are very aware of their own weaknesses.
These are the lessons we must learn, and in turn must teach. Like the dust from the original Tablets of Solar Order gathered in the Ark of the Sun under our protection, we keep this story alive to remind us that humility keeps us from the dangerous overreach of hubris, and that the best of intentions create the most profound of calamities, especially when bitterness and envy reside in the hearts of our peers.
I know that my writing so far has been specifically about Lathander (and that my 3rd entry will also be about this god), but I welcome any story of other gods here by anybody else. Snippets of non-canon, original or fanon lore may be the springboard of creativity for other sages to create more stories to share. After all, many of us do the same thing to create our gaming adventure scenarios. |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 16 Jul 2021 : 06:05:25
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Lord Karsus, remember me saying that I was stealing your story? I present to you a rival myth or alternate telling of it.
From the Book of Morninglord Karsus the Scrivener:
Eons ago, before the gods started recording time, the radiant demigod Lathander was among numerous immortals invited to attend the marriage of two deities whose identities have both been lost to the sands of time. Everyone invited to attend was given the stipulation that the marriage ceremony was to reflect the love & beauty of the two deities, and that all the guests must present themselves accordingly. Lathander had neither duties nor powers of a deity himself, but he always strove for what was right - what was perfect. With the implicit command to be presentable, Lathander set out to ensure he was perfectly so.
Into the primal forests went Lathander to seek out the point-eared peoples in the verdant stands of fey trees. There he found the first elves fashioning lustrous cloth from the petals of albino lilacs and silvery cerna blossoms. When he asked them for some of their cloth, they laughed at him and said that their special cloth would only be shared if he could defeat that which is neither alive nor dead. Lathander was puzzled by this pronouncement until the fey servitors of the elves lead him to a burrow in the forrest where the foliage was withered & black.
“What dwell within,” said the fairies, “neither live nor die. The ‘red eyes’ come out to feed on the living. Some of their victims rise up with red eyes and join them down there. They claw, and dig, and feed, and other heroes who came before you failed to stop them with all their clever plans before they had red eyes, too. How would you not do the same?”
Lathander went into the hole that was suffocating in the stench of blood & decay. There he found the beings that were neither alive nor dead what had glowing red eyes. Though they swarmed about and stacked one upon another with frothing anger and hate, they did not approach Lathander, for he burned with the fire of righteousness. Instead, they snarled and beat the objects of their lair in displays of aggression, but none came close to him as Lathander delved deeper into the darkness.
In the bowels of the labyrinth did Lathander find the root of this evil - Kanchelsis, the First Vampire. Kanchelsis brazenly grappled with Lathander and the two fought until the burrow collapsed around them with neither giving pause or quarter in the struggle. Even breaking through the ground to continue their blows on the surface, Lathander & Kanchelsis showed no signs of weakness under the noonday sun. Frustrated with having to evade Kanchelsis’ biting teeth, Lathander grabbed a branch from a Phander tree and blunted Kanchelsis’ fangs. “Foul progenitor of vampires, perverter of life, you have no claim here for either lands or lives,” Lathander said. “With this binding of wood, I curse you to final death if ever I should even touch you again. Not just for today, and not just for you, but for all rendered into your corrupted unlife, and for ever more. So I have spoken. So mote it be.” Kanchelsis then burst into flames, and tore himself free from Lathander to flee screaming into the darkness of the shadowy forest, leaving a trail of the other red eyes’ burned bodies in his wake.
The elves came from their hiding place and stared in awe at Lathander, clearly not expecting this immortal hero to be any different than the others that had failed before him. The elders of various fae kneeled at his feet asking how he had beaten Kanchelsis, to which Lathander gave them the secret to warding off the undead, and for which the elves gratefully offered as much of the ethereal silk as he wanted. Smaller gnomes quickly measured Lathander and adjusted the cloth’s weaving into a seamless gown for him to wear; moreover, they let the demigod learn the gnomes' trick of cloth shaping as their thanks. Then a mighty stag hybsil strode forward to carry him to his next destination, and Lathander was away on that fae mount.
Off, Lathander rode, to reach the far horizon where the twinkling stars had set for Lathander next desired their sparkle, as forest land and plains and grasslands passed quickly under the hybsil’s split hooves. When a yawning chasm erupted open under them such that not even the hybsils amazing jump could keep them from plummeting down. Lathander grabbed hold of his companion and heaved the hybsil back out of the hole to land safely on the ground above as he fell down into the darkness. As this action caused Lathander’s fall to accelerate he began to move and observe how that changed his fall. He flailed his strong limbs, sometimes touching objects that passed by, sometimes not, until he slowed to land squarely on his feet, thus learning the trick of falling without getting hurt.
Deep in the world, Lathander discovered the cause of the chasm opening in the ground - barrel-chested men were warring with each other and causing much destruction. The very tall ones were hammering about with incredible strength while the much smaller ones were divided between those that looked for things to shape into long claws & hard skins for the rest to wear for doing battle with the very tall ones. Both sides were relentless and neither seemed likely to give-up or lose.
Lathander strode between the two groups and said, “Your fight is a stalemate, neither side will lose and because of that neither of you can make the other side lose.” Those words resonated with the very tall barrel-chested men and the smaller barrel-chested men since there was truth in them that each wanted to believe allowing them to hear the truth that each had been ignoring until now. The clamor of fighting slowed until it stopped altogether as all the barrel-chested men stared with curiosity at this brilliant man standing in the middle of their battlefield.
“What do you know of our fight?” shouted one smaller barrel-chested man. “Do you think quitting now would solve anything between us?” bellowed a very tall barrel-chested man. “Our clan demands restitution for the wrongs their clan has done us!” screamed another smaller barrel-chested man. “Our wrongs? It is our clan aggrieved by your clan’s wrongs!” hollered a different very tall barrel-chested man. “I demand satisfaction!” they all declared in unison; although, they were all startled into inaction by the fact that they all arrived at the same point.
“Exactly!” exulted Lathander, “You have all arrived at the same conclusion, thinking the exact same way, using the same actions, to achieve the same result, and getting the same outcome. Left to yourselves, you will fight each other forever and nothing will change except the amount of tears wept over the blood that is shed.” Lathander paused a moment to let that hard truth be realized and absorbed by even the most blood-thirsty of the barrel-chests. “I propose a contest. Since your fighting has prevented me from doing so, I will declare the winner to be whomever can bring into my possession the twinkle of the stars that have set on the horizon.”
“That is easy,” laughed the tallest of the very tall barrel-chested men. “We can reach much higher than the puny ones and will get them before they are low enough for the Dwarf Clan to touch.” All of the very tall barrel-chested men clambered out of the chasm and raced for the horizon.
The smaller barrel-chested men voiced their dismay and bitterly complained about this challenge until one of the older smaller barrel-chested men who was on the team to find and make claws and skins asked a question. “You only wanted the twinkle, and not actually the stars themselves, right?” she queried. Lathander nodded, and the smaller barrel-chested mens’ team of makers burst into a flurry of activity scrambling through their workshops and searching through their collected piles. The fighting team stood there in a shocked stupor until the makers started shouting orders at them to help.
to be continued |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
Edited by - SaMoCon on 16 Jul 2021 20:13:53 |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 16 Jul 2021 : 06:08:01
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We now continue the story
Many hours went by, the sun set, the moon rose, then it set, and the morning sun lit the sky on a new dawn. The very tall barrel-chested men came exhausted from their actions. “We have run after the setting stars but could not reach where they touch the horizon. What you ask of us is folly. If the Giant Clan cannot get you the setting stars then neither can the Dwarf Clan, and this contest is pointless,” gasped the winded tallest of the very tall barrel-chested men. But, no more than a heartbeat later, the smaller barrel-chested men came forward looking very pleased with themselves. They said nothing, merely presenting Lathander with a bulging bag. Lathander opened the bag and was captivated by the sparkling points of light contained within. The very tall barrel-chested men were likewise dazzled by the brilliant colors of light. The tallest barrel-chested man asked how the smaller barrel-chested men were able to capture the setting stars.
“Because they strive to improve themselves,” said Lathander. Seeing the looks of confusion among both clans he continued, “You of the Giant Clan are tall and hardy making you strong. Being tall and hardy also makes you weak, always looking up and relying on your size to solve your problems. Look at the Dwarf Clan whom you view as small and fragile. That makes them weak compared to you, but they used that weakness to make themselves strong. They made long claws that cut you. They made hard skin to block your blows. When you looked into the air above and grasped at nothingness, they looked into the ground below and pulled up unparalleled treasures. You used your muscles, and they used their brains. That is why the Dwarf Clan wins.”
The very tall barrel-chested men left the chasm in defeat, and the small barrel-chested men celebrated their victory. Lathander was invited into the merriment where he traded secrets of bringing light into the dark depths underground for the secrets of making bladed weapons and metal armors. The small barrel-chested men also taught him the trick of capturing sparkles in rocks so that he may make gemstones and jewels of his own. With the bag full of twinkling lights in hand, Lathander bid farewell to the Dwarf Clan and followed the exit tunnel they had shown him to leave the bowels of the world.
When Lathander emerged from the tunnel, he found he had come up near a village of mixed folk. The mixed folk were of high men and half men, but unlike others Lathander had seen these two peoples intermingled, conversed, and worked like each was no different than the other. When Lathander asked how come they get along so well their answer was that each could do something that the other could not do as well. The half men were better at herding sheep and intricate craftsmanship while the high men were better at hard labor and harvesting the sea. The reason they had for coming together in the first place was that each sought a fine fleece that could not be found on land.
Lathander was intrigued with this marine fleece and asked if he could have some for a shroud. The mixed folk scoffed, “why should we give away that which is hard to make to one who does not do for himself?” “So, if I work for it, you will show me how?” asked Lathander. The mixed folk laughed, and some of them invited Lathander onto their ship. Rowing out to sea, fighting the waves, throwing lines, and pulling nets was hard work but Lathander learned some of the high men’s skills and had a small amount of fish wool with which to make the cloth for the shroud. The half men met the boat at the shore and goaded Lathander to take the full load to the workshops where they showed him how to dry the fish wool, comb it, and weave it into sea silk. As thanks, Lathander showed the mixed folk the trick to making their sea silk glitter like gold and semi-transparent in sunlight.
With his gown & shroud complete and in danger of being late if he tarried for a moment more, Lathander attended the wedding party. It was still early in the party when Lathander arrived, and each guest was taking turns to talk to the groom’s party and then the bridal party before the two would be wed. There were gods, other-worldly beings, and immortals of all kinds in the festivities, but the radiant demigod stood out and captured the attention of everyone there. Dignitaries and strangers alike came to Lathander to engage in scintillating conversations. As Lathander was the last to arrive he was also the last to talk to the groom and the brde. When his turn to greet the bridal party came, the bride-to-be pulled the demigod close and harshly whispered into his ear, “On this day meant to honor our nuptials, everyone instead is looking at and talking about you. How dare you show me up!” Lathander was thunderstruck by this accusation and realized that in making himself perfect he had only shown imperfection in the bride.
Lathander thought quickly and considered the gift of twinkling setting stars in his hand when he came up with a solution. “Come with me and take off your dress!” said Lathander as he took the goddess by her hand. The bride was so shocked by his words that she could not stop him from leading her to a secluded place and so impressed by his forthrightness that she doffed her clothes. Lathander likewise took off his gown and clothed the nude goddess with the radiant gown while using the trick of cloth shaping to form it to a perfect fit upon her body. “Will not the guests know that it is me in these clothes and not you?” the bride asked. “I am not yet done,” Lathander replied as he shortened the shroud and fit it about her head. He then pulled out the sparkling setting stars and fashioned a hoop of the gemstones to hold the shroud in place on her head. “Now you shall be the most radiant person in the room, wearing the most perfect gown,” said Lathander. “And where will you be?” the bride asked. “Where you need me the most,” the demigod responded. “Now, go.”
The bride rejoined the party and was instantly the center of attraction. Since the party was lit only by the glows of multiple fires and candles, the cloth of the veil did not reveal her face, and the other beings assumed that the perfect being from before was this same one wearing the glorious gown. albeit one who could change his or her shape. The goddess now felt she was the most important person in the room, again, and that all was right with the party. The solemn nuptials could finally proceed.
When the couple turned to each other to exchange vows face-to-face, Lathander appeared in time to bend the light of the sun to shine upon the bride and groom, causing the veil to become transparent so that all could see the shining face of the goddess crowned in flashing jewels. He barely had enough time to shape the bride’s old clothes to fit him, race to the last place where the sun’s rays would still be shining, and to use his oldest trick to bend the light to shine when it really was most needed - the perfect moment. This moment was talked about and renown for a long time after and really was the best gift Lathander could have given the two gods.
The celebration after lasted a day and a night before the married couple made their goodbyes in anticipation of a fruitful honeymoon. Lathander caught up with the couple before they left and asked the bride if he could get his clothes back since she would have no more need of the gown, the shroud, and the circlet. The goddess flicked the demigod’s forehead and said, “This is your penance for making me feel envious and inadequate on my wedding day. I shall keep all three to pass down to my daughters for their own weddings. You may have them back sometime in the future if you should happen to woo and marry one of them. Besides, my old clothing fits you better than me. Rose is definitely your color.” With that, the married couple went away and Lathander briefly considered how to make his ensemble more perfect before joining the last of the revelers in a final toast to the groom’s virility and the bride’s fertility.
end of story. |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
Edited by - SaMoCon on 16 Jul 2021 20:18:39 |
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SaMoCon
Senior Scribe
USA
403 Posts |
Posted - 20 Aug 2021 : 19:16:44
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I had been looking into other RW myths and folklore when I stumbled across Lorelei. That legend got me thinking and that brings me to the latest round of adding to this topic.
Beshaba and the Lady in White
The Lady in White, also known as the Falling Woman, is a legend who haunts the Winding Water River from the tributary sources in the Backlands to the mouth at the Sword Coast. Seen in fleeting glimpses by travelers crossing the waterway or by people living near the river waters, she is most often described as plummeting from a high point with her white garments bundling about her body obscuring her features before she vanishes from sight into the ground. A rare few witnesses have seen her on a precipice of some falls and were able to see what she truly looked like. The Lady in White wore a draped lace dress which was layered in the fashion of old Netherese socialites and crowned with a wreath of stars that retained a gossamer veil in place about her head. Her features were regal and athletic but not particularly pretty. Her name has been lost to us, but the nature of her haunting is all too well known to us, for she was the first mortal to deny our goddess of misfortune her divine right. This is the story of how Black Bess delivered her first curse into the world, and the blasphemer doomed to never achieve her destined fate.
Born from the remains of the murdered Goddess of Fate, Tyche, along with her twisted sister Goddess of Luck, Tymora, the Maiden of Misfortune burst free of the other gawking deities to follow the pull of her powers to Faerun. While other gods had matured from mortal beings or were immortals for some time prior to their promotion into the pantheon, very few had suddenly sprung into existence like Beshaba and her sister. Lady Doom was wild with energy and wanted to experience everything that was at once familiar and entirely new. Experimenting with her powers, she glided through the world of immortals, either in guises or entirely invisible - tripping ecstatic children into painful pratfalls, distracting a waiting person ensuring that the meeting of an arriving party is missed, ensuring that thieves become aware of some unattended belongings, and other minor misfortunes that amused the goddess.
Lady Doom exulted in her freedom, She flirtatiously teased the sun god laboring with the light of the sky just to laugh at his looks of surprise and shame. She danced ahead of the dark goddess sweeping shadows ahead of her when the sun god leaves the skies. And when she wasn’t stealing tricks of beguilement from the goddess of pale light, the Maiden of Misfortune was back to bedeviling mortal lives. Beshaba was everywhere, running faster than any bird in flight and seeing all with the depth of understanding reserved for only the elders in our communities. The more she did, the more she understood the purpose of her powers, and the greater awareness she gained in the web of interconnected events for all beings in the world.
Like a reminding signal, Beshaba became aware that her past actions are about to come to fruition for one particular mortal. Faster than a released arrow, Beshaba arrived by the person in question - a minor noble of means whose entire life has crumbled into disarray. The woman Beshaba graced with her presence was stoic in the face of her calamities: a fleet of lucrative merchant cargo vessels capsized in a storm, a betrothed who met and eloped with the wrong woman when they were to meet, a dowry that was stolen from under the bridal party’s noses, an accusation leading to a fight between the groom’s & bride’s families in the church that left her parents dead, and a resulting foreclosure that saw her dispossessed of all worldly assets. The woman, still wearing her white gown of status, stepped to the cataract’s edge and peered down at the white water spilling into the turbulent river below. Surrounded by the vitality of the otherwise uninhabited wilderness, it was a beautiful spot to die.
Beshaba eagerly awaited this moment as the woman took one final breath to steady herself before taking that last step. Indeed, the only disquiet the goddess had over this unfolding spectacle was a lament for the white dress in the grisly aftermath. White had been one of the most attracting colors to Lady Doom precisely for how quickly it can be soiled and how many living creatures are dismayed over incidental stains. While mulling the fate of the dress, Beshaba thought how vulgar it was for people and animals to willingly begrime the color in violent killings or primitive displays of power.
Then the woman uttered these most hateful words, “All of this is my fault and mine alone. The consequences are my burdens and everything would have been different if I had made better choices every step of the way.” In attempting to muster the courage to kill herself, this woman had committed a grievous sin by disrespecting Lady Doom’s evident hand in her misfortunes and arrogantly assuming that she could control events that are in Beshaba’s hands.
Bounding from her vantage, Beshaba loomed upon the woman who, suddenly aware that she was not alone, spun around precariously and nearly fell from the precipice were it not for an errant gust of steadying wind the goddess conjured to ensure her prey did not slip from her vengeful grasp. “Yours alone? Would have been different?” the goddess tersely mimicked. “And how would you have conjured fair weather from that which I fouled?” The woman gaped at the furious visage of Beshaba enraged as she squirmed in our goddess’ clutches.
“Answer me!” Beshaba screamed, “I am the goddess of bad luck, Beshaba, who ensured that the meeting of you and he who should have been your husband would go awry with another woman whom matched your description. With what powers would you have overcome mine in that busy intersection?”
A spark of intuition came into the woman’s eyes, but any hopes that she had come to grips with this reality were dashed by her denials. “If I had been more vigilant to my surroundings, I would have seen my betrothed or the woman whose appearance was similar to my own and either remained in a better overwatch or informed the woman that if someone mistook her for me to send that man my way.”
Beshaba looked askance at this woman. “It no longer matters what I say, your mind is made up to keep this lie of yours for the sake of pride.” The goddess released the mortal and stepped back to no longer crowd her against the edge of falling. I could recite to you the litany of errors, misinterpretations, and accidents that caused thieves to wrongly target your family instead of an opulent merchant’s treasure trove for pilfering, evidence of their crimes would make you the suspect, certain falls during the brawl over your honor were fatal when normally they would be harmless, and the resulting loss of male guarantors & creditors wishing to be associated with your besmirched name would leave you destitute. You would still claim that this fate was entirely of your making?”
The woman squared herself against the goddess and jutted her chin defiantly forward. “I am because it is,” the woman coldly intoned before dropping her chin to glare at Beshaba. “I will be judged and punished for what I have done, goddess of misfortune,” said the woman in a mocking tone as she grimly smiled like she had won some costly victory.
With cruel glee, Beshaba smiled back at the woman. “But what if in your rush to come here to throw yourself into the waters and drown you missed the loyal retainer returning to you with news that absolved you of the accusations, returned your dowry, and won the favor of your elicit lover’s family?” Beshaba waited for the woman to process this information before sardonically continuing, “Oh! You did not know all that, did you? Yet another series of unfortunate circumstances to which you are,” the goddess paused to glare back at the woman, “a helpless victim.”
When the Doom Maiden laughed in the woman’s face, she snarled at Beshaba. “I am no one’s victim. I am my own master. Me! Everything I have and everything I experience are by my own two hands with nothing done by conjured spirits or witch cults and their deities, goddess.”
“Don’t be that way,” patronized Beshaba, “it is such a lovely white dress you are wearing. I would hate to see it marred with blood should you continue behaving so rashly. Be a good little girl, beg my pardon, and return to the life that I have kept away from you until now.” The pretense of friendliness dropped as her voice filled with malice, “Or prove me wrong by being judged and punished.”
Her eyes filling with tears of frustration, the woman’s face contorted with her own rage as she practically spat the words, “Oh, I will, goddess, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” The woman took the final step backwards and fell from sight.
“White is such a pretty color that should never be so willfully stained,” mused the goddess as the woman slipped from view. “Fortunate is that dress that I will not let that foolish mortal color it with her violent death. No judges nor punishments, death nor afterlife. Mortal fool, you will have this one moment in perpetuity from the time when you are standing on the edge until the moment you touch down but forever without knowing you had ever done this before.”
A rustle in the foliage behind Beshaba was soon followed by a few men emerging into view. With hailing words, they inquired of Beshaba if she had seen the Woman in White for they were her retainers attempting to bring her good news. The Lady of Doom stated, “I am alone on this precipice. This fortunate woman you are looking for is not here.” The men apologized for their interruption, used the vantage of the precipice to view the wilderness, and bid the goddess goodbye as they continued their search for a woman they would never find.
Beshaba found herself mentally drained by dealing so directly with recalcitrant mortals that she vowed to never again have direct transactions with her victims instead remaining as audience to their antics & throes. Lady Doom also began visiting troubles on anyone being aggressive while wearing white or bringing violence to one bearing or wearing white for a time thereafter. Thus is the mild taboo of violating those wearing white made with the myth that the color has some warding effects. As for the Plummeting Lady, she is still seen from time to time, unable to do anything but act out her final scene by saying those hateful words and jumping from on high as if she had never been interrupted by the goddess either before her jump or before her impact.
The reading still doesn't feel right to me, so any suggestions or critiques are welcome. |
Make the best use of the system that's there, then modify the mechanics that don't allow you to have the fun you are looking for. |
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FR' fables, parables, and myths of godly doings
