Tag Archives: Folk Tales

The Dead Weeping God

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Sometime in the two weeks after Utiog has been defeated. The group has gathered at the inn to discuss and share.

“I’ve been thinking about the nature of The Dead God. The one who wanders She-Who-Is-Fierce’s hunting ground.
‘He mourns and weeps and is quite unseemly’
Gnolls enslaved by the Dark Hand are trying to find the last of Him.
He weeps because of an ancient wound that is fed with blood daily. This wound is feasted on by The Made… or possibly whomever made The Made.”

“Have I overlooked or forgotten anything about this dead, weeping god?”

Tymora, anyone?

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While the group is resting, waiting for Telosh to fully recover. The glow of the dwarven crypt surrounds the group. Alexis is sorting through his equipment and organizing it. As he pulls out his old holy symbol to Tymora he looks at it a bit wistfully. The glow of the room seems to help bring out the shine of the simple silver disk. After turning the disk over several times, Alexis addresses the rest of the group.

“Is Tymora of any interest to any of you? This was given to me by my father when I was eight. He wanted me to have something to help with my luck. Promised to beat me if I lost it.” Alexis smiles at the memory.

Alexis turns the disk over for the rest to see “when I studied with Publius I hired a silversmith to modify the coin with the name ‘Tyche’. There is some evidence that Tymora and Tyche are the same, or Tyche was the older name. Or possibly Tyche was a lost daughter of Tymora. Or…? At the time I was sure I would someday find the answer to this riddle.”

Alexis looks expectantly at the group.

Telosh Tales: Ath and Torr-van

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“My father spoke little of Ath, Avv or Torr-van, nor did my Gran. My nuncle, though… Sven and Dirk and Gorf’s dad?” Telosh’s voice rises in question, wondering if the others have paid any attention to his stories of Amara. He moves on quickly though,

“He was the part of the town militia, and while he was a farmer that praised Oo-rin first, he spoke of Torr-van more than he spoke of TyLin when he was teaching us how to fight to protect the village from kossen. Anyhow, the little bits I know about Ath and Torr-vann, seem to come together a bit like this… 

Torr-vann, the mightiest and bravest of the gods and the most valiant in battle, has, since time before time, fought with his great two-sided ax against dragons and dark gods and great evil powers to protect humanity. 

When the world was young, and so was Torr-vann, Av’v, the mother of… us all, gave birth to a half-human, half-god son, Ath. Ath was an exceptionally clever boy, being both god and human, and Av’v was a strict mother but a great teacher, and taught him many secrets, and most of all how to keep secrets and keep his own counsel.

Ath grew rapidly, and was clever and quick, and in no time at all, Torr-van noticed the young half-god and, hoping to make sure his cleverness would lead to good and bright things, took the young half-god under his wing.

Ath was a quick study, and learnt how to fight from Torr-van quite well indeed. Ath was skilled at exploiting his enemies weaknesses, and positioning himself for the best advantage in a fight. It was no time at all before Ath and Torr-van both felt Ath was ready to join the warrior god in his battles against dragons and giants and other great evils. 

Even though Torr-van was the mightiest warrior of all the gods, and he swore he would protect Ath, it took much work to convince Av’v that Ath would be safe with Torr-van.

But, She had given birth to half human because of her great love for humanity, and she knew that, fighting to protect humanity was part of his destiny, so in the end, she agreed to let young Ath adventure and fight beside Torr-van.

She kept back a dark foreboding knowledge, though, and did not warn Ath or Torr-van about the true nature of the unease she felt. Av’v knew that these adventures would lead to Ath’s death, she knew with dark certainty that his death would be a great tragedy and that the origins of this tragedy lay in Ath and Torr-van’s adventures.

She made the two swear a powerful godly vow that they would always protect each other in hope that she could somehow prevent the tragedy she knew would unfold.  

The stories of their travels and battles are no longer well known, but they defeated many great enemies fighting together. Ath was a natural strategist and did not hesitate to strike down their enemies when offered the chance, and the two gods saved each other’s lives many times. 

Along the way, an evil dragon, perhaps the father of all Wyverns, poisoned the two gods, with it’s powerful wyvern-like tail, and Ath, with the secret knowledge his mother had taught him, saved himself and Torr-van, but turned his experience and knowledge to his own advantage and began to use poison himself. 

Some say that Ath was always corrupted, others say it was the poison that corrupted him, him being half-human, perhaps he was more susceptible, perhaps it was the nature of his mothers secret teachings and their shared secretive nature, but Ath’s poison is part of his corruption. Along with the poison, jealousy, doubt, and mistrust began to infect Ath. 

Eventually these battles became something more, the Great War between the gods and the forces of Evil. The forces of evil knew that the Ath and Torr-van were an undefeatable team, but they also knew that Ath had become more like them than like his battle-brother.  

So they conspired to capture Av’v. 

Once Av’v was captured, their trap was set. They had long used the door in Ath’s mind open by his embrace of poisons, and dreams and nightmares and deceit to grow his jealously and double his mistrust.

Together, Ath and Torr-van battled their way to the dark cavern where Avv was being held captive and tortured and defeated the beasts that were guarding Her. Many say that she was held in deep in the mountains where the Red Wastes are now, and that it is her suffering there that lead the red color and curse on those lands.

Ath, being cautious by nature, and filled with mistrust, moved forward with care, keeping an eye out for traps and treachery. 

Torr-van being brave and trusting, rushed forward to free Av’v.

Av’v, her power weakened by the forces of evil, and their foul tortures, saw Torr-van but not Ath, and praised him for rescuing her. 

Ath became enraged, and no sooner had Torr-van freed his Mother, Ath treacherously cut the great warrior down from behind with a poisoned blade.

Av’v was free, and in her rage, her power flowed freely and she slew her treacherous, oath-breaking son, his blood flowed out across the floor, and the taint of his poisons gave life to all manner of poisonous vermin there. 

Av’v power continued to flow, and with it she raised Torr-van up, returning the valorous god to life again. 

As soon as she calmed down though, she saw that she had slain her own son, her gift to humanity, and she also understood her dark and foreboding vision of his death.

“Alexis, do you know any more of this story? I wish I knew more details, which dark gods they fought for example? Malor? Maglubiet? the Arrul No’roth?”

Telosh’s TyLin Tale

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Two nights after Alexis shares his Avv tale, during a rest while exploring the caves, Telosh begins his tale:

—

There is no truth like the truth of a tale told in the hills for generations, as my Gran used to say….

A plain young boy from a poor family, Ajax goes out to seek his fortune with no money to speak of, despite his parents’ wish for him to stay home and scratch at the earth with them. 

After a few days of following the trail from his home, it joins a road. After a few more days on the road, Ajax comes to an even split in the road, a T so to speak. 

At this junction, there is a large cherry tree that has provided shade for travellers to camp under for many years. The cherries are small, but ripe and plentiful. Ajax is hungry and eats some of the cherries while he ponders which direction to turn, right or left. Ajax, being brought up well by his family, calls upon the blessings of TyLin for wisdom in this choice before him.

With no insights, and not having a single coin to flip, he spins a cherry in the air, intent to follow the direction the stem points.

When it lands at his feet, the cherry stem points straight ahead, neither right or left, not even in the slightest, but forward into the bushes.

Ajax steps forward, to the end of the road, and as he looks he spots a small white and grey rabbit hopping away, and realizes there is a faint game trail through the bushes. Still hungry, he follows the trail for a bit and begins to realize that it is, in fact, following an old road. 

Early afternoon is about to slip into early evening, and the shadows have grown long, Ajax spots an old, once grand house and farmstead, and the rabbit disappearing inside. 

The grounds and house are old and nearly in ruins – not as bad or as big as Greyfax though…

Trusting in TyLin, Ajax approaches the house, calling out a greeting. There is no answer, but at the slightest hint of a knock, nearly only as he reaches for it, the door opens and inside is a large white lynx and next to it the small white-grey rabbit! The two are sitting next to each other, as if waiting for him.

Incredibly, the cat begins to speak!

“My sister and I have been transformed by a witch, TyLin protected me, but our magics were severely weakened and my sister cannot be transformed back. The witch is sending creatures to weaken our defenses, turn me into a rabbit as well and sacrifice us to increase her own power… I fear we will not survive this night without your help. 

“Ajax, in the name of TyLin, will you protect us?”

Hearing this lovely voice, seeing the helpless rabbit, and thinking of his prayers to TyLin for guidance at the crossroads, Ajax doesn’t hesitate:

“Yes! Of course my lady,” he replies in his best words, and thinking of the cherry tree at the crossroads and what looked like old fruit trees, he asks, “Do you have any cherry wood? I am without a cudgel or staff.”

“Indeed we do, our farmstead includes many fruit trees, and the cherries have survived the curse better than most.”

The lynx, the rabbit, and the young man go out into the orchard where Ajax is thankful to find a stout cherry limb ready to be harvested and to make a fine stave. After a bit of whittling and a little oiling, Ajax is ready to fight off the witch’s evil minions with his cherry-wood staff, and just in time!

For as the sun begins to set, a hawk calls out a warning from above, looking up, Ajax sees a white hawk circling in the air above the farm. 

 As soon as the darkness settles, wolves begin to howl all around the farmstead. 

“Go in the house,” Ajax tells the lynx and rabbit, as he assumes a defensive position at the bottom of the porch stairs. 

No sooner are the words said than the first wave of wolves and wargs charges the house! 

Ajax is able to fend them off with his stout cherry staff! 

Wave after wave comes all through the night, and late in the night, the remaining wargs and wolves are joined by other fearsome creatures. Ajax manages to keep them out of the house, but it is hard work, and some of the creatures do manage to bite and scratch our hero.

The sun rises and Ajax is exhausted, his staff is worn and cracked at one end, but not broken.

The Lynx-lady offers him a bowl of cherries and sweet cream to sup upon, and bids Ajax to rest.

In the afternoon Ajax wakes refreshed, his wounds healed, and the staff reduced to a stout cudgel. The Lynx speaks again, the white rabbit at her side. 

“My sister has chewed the cracked part of your staff away so that it will serve you tonight. You have defeated the witch’s larger minions. Thank you for your valiant defense last night, we surely would not have prevailed without you. I know she is not finished, and tonight she will send others. Eat and be refreshed, for night will come soon.”

Ajax eats more cherries and cream and tests out his cudgel, it is well balanced and the grain gleams as if it had been well oiled.

Again, as night falls, a white hawk circles above and calls out a warning. No howls are heard as the darkness gathers. 

Once again Ajax admonishes the two sisters to go in the house, no sooner are the words out of his mouth than across the ground and through the trees come hoards of wood-rats, weasels, stoats, and polecats!

Ajax’s cudgel is stout and made of cherry, and with it once again he keeps the witch’s servants out of the house. In the wee hours of the morning on what must be their seventh sortie, the rats and weasels nearly overcame Ajax and the white Lynx leapt to his aid, clawing and biting the nasty creatures. 

By the time the morning comes, Ajax is covered in bites and scratches, smaller but more numerous than the night before. His cudgel is a bit worn, but remains stout and strong. 

Once again, the Lynx-lady bids Ajax to eat and rest. She is certain the witch will try a third time.

Ajax eats more cherries and cream, and rests. When he wakes in the afternoon, his wounds are all healed, and his cudgel is clean and gleaming once again. A few barely noticeable nicks in the cherry wood are all the evidence that remains of the previous night’s battle.

A third time, as night falls, a white hawk circles above and calls out a warning.

An eerie silence comes with the darkness this time, and Ajax, for the third time, calls up the sisters to take refuge in the house as the floor of the forest comes alive in the darkness!

A crawling carpet of scorpions, spiders, and snakes moves out of the woods and towards Ajax.

For the third time, he offers a prayer to TyLin to protect the sisters and himself, and sets to his task of defending the farmstead from evil.

Despite their small size, or perhaps because of it, this third night is more challenging than the two that came before. Worse yet, the night’s vermin are venomous and when their bites land, Ajax is weakened. 

Again, on what must be the seventh wave, in the deep dark before the dawn, Ajax is nearly laid low, weakened by poison, and his club is cracked from striking the ground to smash his creeping, crawling enemies. 

Again, the Lynx comes to his aid, with claw and tooth, she fights off several snakes and even a scorpion and spider or two! 

As the dawn breaks the two weary warriors stand triumphant at the front of the house, no vermin have been able to enter!

The Lynx and Ajax both collapse on the porch, exhausted and poisoned by their enemies. 

Ajax wakes late, the sun is low, and the Lynx is weak. The rabbit has brought them some cherries and a bit of sweet cream, and Ajax’s cudgel is still cracked and weakened.

As dusk begins, clouds begin to obscure the sky, and the white hawk cries a warning above, even louder than the previous three. As darkness descends, the Lynx-lady moans:

“She is coming…”

Ajax carries the Lynx into the house, and before he can close the door behind him, an evil cackle comes from the woods. 

Ajax turns and sees an evil crone approaching, he steps forward to face the witch, weak from the poison still, his cudgel nearly splintered. He prays to TyLin for protection and solace, and assumes a defensive stance. 

“You are weak, boy! Your stick is broken, and even if it is made of cherry, it will not keep me at bay! I have come for my due, and your death will only give me more power! Run while you can!”

Ajax feels a wave of fear wash over him, but he manages to shake off the witch’s curse. He brandishes his cudgel and shouts back at the witch:

“Hie ye hence from here Witch! TyLin protects this place and its inhabitants from your evils!”

The crone cackles in amusement, and a red glow coalesces around her hands, 

“Your sleeping Goddess will not protect you from me boy!” Screams the witch before uttering her curse.

A wave of heat and fire washes over Ajax, but he does not cower, instead he charges the witch!

The fire burns away the cherry wood and to his surprise and the witch’s, a fine silver sword is revealed! The cherry handle unburnt in his hand, Ajax strikes the witch down and she herself burns out like coal turned to ash.

A light breeze blows the ash away, and the clouds fade from the sky, revealing bright stars and shining moon. 

In the moonlight, Ajax’s clothes appear to be bleached white by the witch’s blast, but not burned away. 

He returns to the house, where a beautiful woman lays resting, a white-grey rabbit at her side. 

In the late morning, the three awake, and together they gather cherries and sweet cream to break their fast. The farmstead could still use some work, and by the evening Ajax and the Lynx-lady are smiling at each other and she asks if he will stay and help rebuild the farm.

—

Telosh concludes his tale with a gentle smile, “I think I remembered it right, when Gran told it to the smaller children, some times the witch would “turn into a bat and fly away never to be seen again” or some such kid stuff, but the rest is right, I remember the threes and the sevens, the importance of cherry wood in fending off evil, and all that.”

Early in the telling, Alexis clearly works on keeping his face blank.

“It’s hard to imagine that you ever gave praise to any other gods with a telling of that story in that fashion. So much Ty-Lin imagery.”

“Every so faintly, it reminds me of a very different story. From a different age.”

“This sort of thing makes me wish I had a pipe. The occasion just seems to long for it. Perhaps the influence of Anashar, or one of the winds?”

Telosh looks a little confused at first, and then shrugs,

“My Gran did always say the old ways were the right ways and that her stories were as old as the hills.” 

With a wry smile he adds, “Pipeweed and and old tales do go together, no doubt about that. You would know better than me what god’s influence that might be though.”


Telosh and Alexis Talk

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After the first day of hunting, well before entering the stink-lizard cave, Telosh approaches Alexis before watches start, and begins what becomes a series of conversations about Avv and TyLin in their “downtime” or while performing simple tasks. 

“Alexis, it seems you and I have followed a similar path but to different Protectors. My father honored all the gods, but was especially devoted to Tymora. Our grandmother, honored many gods, Oorin and Ponnoi especially, but TyLin most of all. 

“When I left home, it was TyLin and Tymora that I felt most connected to, or at least theirs were the few prayers that I couldn’t forget. I prayed to TyLin on occasion in my early travels, and Tymor often…

“But, when I met you, the only Faith I had was in the bottle…

“Sobering up after seeing how gambling really worked.. and When Tylin leapt into my mind… heart? Out of my mouth at least, Her Name that is, Her Name leapt out of my mouth when I saw the dead girl. The rune there, the rune guarding the Eyes… Her Protection on our quest… 

“I felt the power in your coin, the Red. It changed after the Eyes… But the Red is not the same, and I believe the Eyes were… destroyed? Removed from Magyuby’s reach at least…

“A witch named Nandra, friend of Kossen, tried to sacrifice me and my brothers to bring Avv back, Alexis. 

“I know that Av’v is the Mother of The Betrayer, and yet I trust you. Even though you yourself have allied with gnomes and kobolds, if all ya’alls tales are to be believed…

“You are not Her Priest, not Her witch, or warlock. You use Her Power, and venerate Her, but you are not… Her’s are you? No more that you were Tymora’s…

“Please, tell me all the stories you know of Avv and TyLin. Start with any you know of them together? We can stop when needed, and start again whenever we have time.”

Telosh looks to Alexis expectantly, Alexis feels the Westlander’s earnest desire to learn, the heady power of knowledge venerated by an rapt pupil… and Alexis has noticed over the least few months that the Westlander is far from stupid…

Alexis attentively hears Telosh out.

“Inkham, you need a priest or perhaps a sooth-sayer. What I can tell you is this: only fools fail to worship the gods; the gambler gives a heart-felt prayer to Tymora before the throw of the dice; the midwife gives an offering to Ishtar before, and during, a birth; warriors sacrifice blood to Torrvan before going into battle. To fail to do these things, opens the door for your opponent to win the god’s favor at your expense.

“In this way, I assume you give a prayer to the appropriate god when you feign left and stab right. Perhaps you channel Torrvan; perhaps your mind touches Kahru (although this seems unlikely); perhaps you embody Ath’ for a split second. Obviously whichever god you channel for that moment is partially determined by your head-space, partially by how successful you were, etcetera.” Alexis makes a motion with his hands suggesting there are other variables that could play into this. “But this would not be the god you touch when you make love to a woman… or at least I would hope not.

“And this is the difference between us” Alexis gestures to everyone around camp “and the truly faithful. For the true priests of the world, their every action is a prayer to their god. They channel their god into our realm with every action. You might be Torrvan on the streets and Ponnoi in the sheets… but a true priest…” Alexis shakes his head a little sadly. “A true priest of Ath’ is a betrayer in the streets and a betrayer in the sheets. A true priest of Hood is even sadder to think about.

“With all this talk of Ty-Lin, you need to decide if she’s a fun hobby, if you wish to learn some of her mysteries and workings (like I do with Avv), or if are to become a” Alexis says the next part with particular emphasis “true believer. The true priest path of Ty-Lin, if that’s even possible these days, would be a rigorous path. Purity. Utter veneration of the wildlands. No cutting down young trees just to build silly barricades in a silly cave, full of perfectly natural stink-lizards that should be left to worship their perfectly natural vile god. No longer relying on sucker-punches and keen stabs in the kidneys. No longer trying to kill ‘witches’ because ‘witches are bad’. Gods like Ty-Lin demand their followers always allow redemption to those that stand against them. Probably one of the reasons there are so few of them left.

“If you still want to be a one-trick pony to Ty-Lin, you could always do something she couldn’t ignore. You could restore her lost temple. You could find the lost sword of… Matsu? No, that doesn’t sound quite right.” Alexis shrugs and moves on “Anyway there are more things you could do to try and attract her attention. But remember that she’ll know your heart.” Alexis gives a cock of his head that somehow makes Telosh think of how good alcohol tastes and about all the battles the group has been in recently.

Telosh smiles subtly in appreciation when Alexis calls him Inkam, and nods as Alexis talks. He smiles more obviously at Alexis jokes. His brow furrows when Alexis suggests that he somehow invokes Ath.

When Alexis finishes, Telosh considers what has been said, and then speaks:

“I am no more a priest than you Alexis, and likely less fit to be one. Yes, I honor the gods when approrpriate, and these days I feel closest to TyLin. Given your recent… connection to Avv’s Power, I am interested in the old stories. My Nan told a few of TyLin, and the story of Ath and Torr-can of course, but are they not Goddesses of the same… Era? Age? Are there tales of them working together? Are they not both protectors and Goddesses of Magick?”

At the last bit from Telosh, Alexis rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Every god is a ‘god of magic’. If I was so inclined, I could weave magics of Torrvan, or Anashar, or Lo-Mont, or…” Alexis gestures that all magics of the various gods could be his if he wished it.

“Ty-Lin was a good goddess of the wild places. Your grandmother might have played up the bear who protects her cubs as Ty-Lin being a protector god. Perhaps she talked about how the White Hawk can see into the realms of the gods as an example of Ty-Lin being a goddess of magics. Ty-Lin was, at her core, a good goddess of the wild places and of wisdom (not ‘magic’). One of her primary nemesis was Malor, an evil god of the wild places and savagery. We could talk more about the symmetry of the gods, but I don’t think that’s why you started this conversation.”

“Unlike Ty-Lin, Av’v is a goddess of humanity. There are stories where she protects her young, or humanity, but it would be a little overly simple to call her a ‘protector god’, although possibly more of that in her weave than in Ty-Lin. Ty-Lin has more of a guardian aspect. Similarly, Av’v has stories of her being a crone and working crone magic. Does that make her a ‘goddess of magic’? We emphasize what we want to in each god. You want to see Av’v and Ty-Lin as similar and having protection and magic in common.”

“Av’v and Ty-Lin do not see their similarities like that. To Av’v, Ty-Lin has forsaken humanity for the wild places. When humanity needed the gods, Ty-Lin turned her back and went to dwell in the wild places. To Ty-Lin, Av’v is a goddess obsessed with her own offspring at the cost of the natural world. These goddesses do not get along.”

“Why are you so intent on Ty-Lin? If you are most interested in protection, then the bear gods are strong, as is Torrvan, Kaus, Algin, or even Tren-Vilu. If you are most interested in raw magics, Ishtar or Dian-Cecht are the obvious choices with the wind gods and some of the evil gods being… unrecommended choices.”

“With all that said, what makes the wise mistress of the wild places so alluring to you?”

Telosh nods a bit as Alexis talks about the Gods, any skepticism he had about the Sutheroni’s knowledge seems to have faded from the Westalnder’s face. Though the briefest amused smile passes across his face when Alexis mixes up tales of the white mountain lioness and her kits with the idea of a sow and her cubs…

Telosh nods thoughtfully when Alexis asks him the real question. He reaches for his chin, likely in imitation of his companion.He stops mid-gesture as if realizing what he is doing. His face quickly shifts through several expressions and then settles. Tired, thoughtful, forthright. 

“I suppose I could ask you the same about Avv’alee, Alexis… but no, I think that is clear enough for me at the moment. 

“As I said at the outlet, TyLin was part of my childhood, and the experiences we had at the Greyfax estate brought Her to life for me. I felt Her Power when I called in her to heal Ethelred, well… use the energy of the sword to heal Ethelred… and despite your… city-fied mockery, I am certain that She protects me when I do battle with witches.”

“Magick is dangerous, so clearly easily corrupted. I pray to Her to protect you especially Alexis, just as I pray that she protect us all when We battle those who have twisted themselves in service of the magics of foul demons.”

Telosh makes a primitive sign against evil, and looks pointedly at Alexis, asking with his eyes, ‘does that answer your question?’

The Westlander only pauses briefly though, and concludes: “Me knowing more tales about TyLin, Avv and Magic will help guard us against… corruption… Alexis, of this I am certain.”

Alexis cocks his head at Telosh.

“There appears to be a lot of subtext in this conversation. A lot of added…” Alexis shrugs, perhaps thinking better of whatever he might have been thinking. “Not the sort of thing I’m used to with Red or Gus; they’re straight shooters.”

“Perhaps there’s something you want to say to me directly?”

Telosh begins to laugh. The laughter is the most genuine mirth any in the group have seen from the Westlander, ever.

After a moment he settles.

“Alexis of Sutheron, I apologize, I thought perhaps this was a game, an exchange of stores and that I could use both the spoken and the unspoken languages with you.

“Let me speak plainly then: you are neither a priest nor a soothsayer, I do not come to for advice about The Call I feel.”

“I am Telosh Winterborne, of Amrara, son of Okken, the Spectre of Yamar. I come to you as your team-mate, for tales of TyLin and Avv, for any knowledge that I might use to keep you and our companions safe from the corruptions that follow the enemies of Humanity.

“I will share openly and honestly share tales with you, and will follow your advice with regards to magics, and in all things. Unless, TyLin tells me otherwise, and in this I swear upon my family’s name that, like all else, I will not deceive you about. 

“Our cause is the same. I know this with all my being. I do not play games with you, I have hid nothing from you. I wish to learn more so that we are safer. Will you share your knowledge of Avv and TyLin, whatever it may be, with me?”

Telosh looks at Alexis, waiting for answer but also watching his reaction-does this Sutheroni see him as a fellow living being or simply as another tool?

Alexis gives an acknowledging couple nods. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I don’t know how any of the stories of the gods will help us other than as clues to their treasures.” Alexis shrugs.

“Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any stories involving both goddesses, but here’s a story for you:”

On the edge of a dark forest there is a little village, and everyone who lives there knows about the old lady who lives alone, on the dead-end-and-never-traveled path into the forest. They know her, and they fear her, for it has long been rumored that she likes to eat children.

In this village lives a man with his beautiful daughter, who we’ll call Noirin. The girl’s mother had sadly died some years before the start of this story, but before she died had given Noirin a gift: a little rag doll with red glass beads for eyes, and fabric for hair. The girl’s mother told Noirin that she must feed it a little milk and a little bread every night, and so long as she did so, the doll would always be ready to help her if she was in true peril. Noirin followed her mother’s directions. Every night the little doll sat up and drank a little milk, and ate a little bread before smiling at Noirin and then going back to sleep.

One day, Noirin’s father decided to marry again. His second wife had two daughters of her own who were vile and jealous creatures. But so long as Noirin’s father remained at home, the stepmother and stepsisters had to pretend that they liked her.

When Noirin turned sixteenth, her father said that he had to go away on a journey that would last at least a month. Noirin begged him to take her with him, but he just laughed and said he was traveling on business, and the girl would find the journey tiresome and dull.

The first night after the father had left, the stepmother gathered the three girls together and instructed them: the eldest stepsister was to sew a button on her dress, the youngest stepsister was to roll some pastry nice and flat, while Noirin was to go to the crone’s hut in the forest and ask her to lend the family some lights.

The stepmother shooed Noirin out of the house so fast that she hardly had time to put on her hat and gloves. She walked forlornly to the corner of the street and took the little doll out of her coat pocket where it had been sleeping.

“Oh little doll,” she said. “My mother told me that if I fed and looked after you, you would be ready to help me if I was ever in trouble. Well I have fed and looked after you. Now I’m in terrible trouble. I must go to Avalee, and everyone knows that she is a dreadfully wicked witch. So please tell me – what am I to do?”

The little doll looked up at Noirin and said: “Be as brave as you are beautiful. Go to Avalee’s hut and no harm will come to you.”

After about an hour of walking, Noirin came to a clearing in the forest. Although it was now getting quite dark, she had no trouble seeing – for there was a blood-moon shining into the clearing. And in the middle of the clearing was a hut surrounded by a short fence. As Noirin approached the hut, the door creaked open.

Avalee’s nose was so long and bony that it appeared through the door before the rest of her. A moment or two later the nose was followed by a tall, skinny old woman holding a broom stick. “Who are you and what is your business here?”

With Noirin’s voice quivering she spoke “good Ma’am,” she said. “It is only me, little Noirin. My stepmother sent me to the forest to borrow a light from Avalee.”

“Did she now?” Said Avalee thoughtfully. “Well I am Avalee, but you may call me grandma.”

Avalee went on: “Now come with me into my hut. I will give you some simple tasks to do. If you are not lazy and you complete your work like a good girl, then I will give you the light that you ask for and let you go free. But if you do not manage these simple tasks I shall cook you in my oven and eat you for my dinner! Ha Ha Ha!” She cackled. “How do you like that for an offer?”

Noirin did not like it at all, but she had faith that all would be well, that she would complete the tasks, and return with the light, and so she curtsied and said, “I like it well, dear grandma,” and she followed the old lady into her hut.

The hut was surprisingly roomy, but a large part of it was taken up by a huge oven.

The old woman sat down at the table and gestured to the larder. “Fetch me my supper, dear.”

“Yes, grandma,” replied Noirin, and she brought over some bread and cheese for the old lady.

“Ah well,” said Avalee. “Soon I shall be enjoying a nice plate of roast meat, thinly sliced and pink in the middle.” With those words she pinched Noirin’s arm. “Now tomorrow my dear, you must complete my little task. When I am away from the hut, you must tidy the yard, clean the hut, and cook pumpkin soup for my supper. Can you manage that?”

“Why yes, grandma, I can.” said Noirin, who was relieved that the task did not sound by any means beyond her ability.

“That is good,” said Avalee, “and when you have finished doing that you can sort out all the black and white peas in the sack in the kitchen.”

Avalee ate her bread and cheese and drank a tankard of frothy brown ale before falling asleep.

With everything that had happened Noirin felt queasy, and while she certainly had no appetite herself she did not forget to feed her doll a few crumbs of bread and some drops of milk. When the rag doll had finished her supper, Noirin asked her: “Oh dear, what have I done? How shall I ever get out of here?”

The Doll replied: “Have courage and keep faith, all will be well, Avalee is unable to tell a lie and she is bound to keep her promise.”

The next morning, Avalee arose from her bed, drank another tankard of ale before leaving the hut and venturing into the forest.

Noirin gazed at the witch until she was out of site, and then she started to clean and to cook. She managed to get everything spick and span, and get the soup on the cooker by midday, but now she faced an impossible task. How could she possibly pick the black peas out of a sack of white ones? Why, there must have been thousands, if not millions of peas in the sack.

Daunted by the task, Noirin pulled out the doll and set it on the shelf next to her. “What am I to do? This is impossible to do before she gets back.” The doll replied “give me one of those peas, and I’ll see what I can do.” At which point Noirin handed the doll a white pea which the doll held to it’s sewn mouth and blew on it like a little whistle.

Noirin heard a noise outside the hut. “Oh, Avalee must be back early. I’m done for!” She exclaimed – but when she looked out of the window she saw not Avalee, but a white stag. He galloped around the fence of the compound and then was off again into the woods. When Noirin turned back from the window she saw that all the peas had been sorted into two piles – one black and one white. Her task was done.

That evening, after Avalee returned home from whatever business she had been on, the old witch could not hide her surprise at all that her guest had managed to achieve in one day.

“I see you are good little worker my dear,” she said. “Well in that case, tomorrow you can make pea soup and fetch water from the stream to fill up the tank. Here, use this bucket.” What she handed to Noirin was not a bucket, but a sieve. Still that night, when the little rag doll urged her not to feel despair, she knew in her heart that something wonderful might happen to help her – and it did. For as she stood by the stream holding the sieve in her hand, a large wolf, took it from her and ran over to the hut where he through the open window. When Noirin returned she found that the tank was filled with fresh water and the wolf was nowhere to be found. Not even a trace that it had bounded through the open window.

That evening Avalee dipped her bony finger in the tank and tasted a drop of the fresh water. “Indeed you are a hard working girl. Let’s see if you are clever too. Tonight you can stay up and count the number of stars in the sky. If you tell me the right number in the morning, you can take your light and go free, but if your answer is wrong, even if you tell me one star too many or too few, then I shall have you for my breakfast.”

That night Noirin gazed out of the window at the sky and tried to count the stars – 1,2,3, 5… But by the time she reached 100 stars she was no longer sure whether or not she was counting the same ones again, and she had to start all over again.

Eventually, Noirin began to sob quietly. She took out her doll and said: “Oh dear little doll, who will come to the aid of poor little Noirin this time? I cannot guess the number of stars in the sky, and in the morning the witch shall surely eat me.”

“Do not worry said the doll. Hold me out the window and I will get help” And it was – for at the midnight hour, a large owl swooped down to the window where Noirin was sitting and he whisper a number to her as if in a dream. It was a very big number, but I cannot tell you what it was, for it is a secret. In the morning, when Avalee stepped with her bony legs onto the floor, Noirin said: “Good morning grandma, shall I tell you the number of stars now?”

Avalee yawned and said: “Go on child, tell me. But you had better not be wrong, for if you are, I shall eat you.”

Noirin told the number to Avalee, who let out a terrible cry like: “Ha!” Her eyes blazed.

“Who told you that?” She demanded so fiercely that Noirin sank back. Avalee picked up a plate and threw it across the room so that it smashed against the wall.

“But grandma,” she said. “You promised that if I told you the number correctly I could take a light and go free.”

Avalee froze for a moment, and the fierce glare of her eyes lessened.

“Ah yes,” she said more calmly. “So I did. I suppose it was it was the forest that helped you?”

Noirin nodded, for she now understood.

“Then you are a good girl,” said Avalee. “For if the forest creatures choose to help you, that means that you are worthy. I will do you no harm. Wait here while I go on my business. I have no tasks for you today. Tonight you shall return home with a light.”

That evening, after Avalee returned home, she reached into the large oven and pulled out a flaming skull for Noirin.

“Take this,” she said. “It will light up your stepmother and your two stepsisters very well.”

Noirin took the skull and returned back down the path to her village. She expected that her stepmother would have found a light by now, but in fact the house was not lit. Instead her relatives were sitting in complete darkness.

She stepped into the house. The skull lit up the inside as bright as day.

“I’m home,” called out Noirin. But she received no reply, for as soon as the light fell on her stepmother and sisters, they turned to dust.

“The story of Avv’s cleansing skull and her hungry doll of guidance. Incredibly obscure items; great treasures!”

Telosh listens to Alexis’s tale with great interest, and afterwards nods quietly for for some time afterwards. 

“Thank you Alexis, that is a very interesting and enlightening story! It is late, and we both need to rest, but you have reminded me of a story my grandmother used to tell… it’s bit hazy, but I will work to remember it in full, and take my turn as soon as time permits!”