:: Medusa and the Serpentine Gallery ::

I consider traditional fantasy an apt love letter to the fertile legends and folklore of our ancestors, but with the unfortunate side effect that they rarely explain the origins of the strange inherent forms and magical origins found in the source material. Is every minotaur in a role-playing game the love child of a lusty queen and a bull as the traditional myths recount? Why do werewolves transform into wolves at the full moon? Why do sirens sing so beautifully that ships wreck themselves upon the rocks?

In the spirit of explaining where medusas come from in my world, I present to you Medusa and the Serpentine Gallery.

Medusa and the Serpentine Gallery
by Wm Jay Carter III

Once there was a family of artisans who came to the city of Wellstan. They were all exceptional painters, potters, and carvers, but one daughter, Medusa, was a sculptor of surpassing skill. It was said that her work was so life-like that—once it was painted—it could hardly be distinguished from the subject.

Medusa was as beautiful as she was talented, and when the family came to the city, she was sought after by many suitors, who continuously crowded her with their pleas of devotion. “Come to the gallery,” she would tell them. “If you truly wish to know me, come and see my work, for there is my true soul for all to see.”

:: Joaquim and the Marid's Lute ::

...or "The Frog Prince"

Once there was a ranai named Joaquim, whose name meant “Lifted by God.” Like his mother before him, he worshipped the marids, beautiful geniuses of the water planes that sometimes blessed mortals with their powers.

When he was young, Joaquim had fallen into a ravine, trapped where his mother could not reach him. Distraught, she invoked the marids on his behalf. Pulling a magical lute from her back, she plucked the strings in a serenade that ebbed and flowed like the waves. Presently, a marid emerged from within the bowl of the lute and asked:

:: Random Item—Key of Kannux ::

Key of Kannux

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/18/15

a seraph

Tool: Locks/Picks

Culture: Seraphim

Condition: Dirty, Appealing

Color: Tomato Red

Keyword: Liquid

As you march along the forest path you occasionally hear the heavy thud of someone chopping wood. Soon enough you pass a cottage where a dark-haired man is doing just that, the muscles of his bare back flexing beneath his pale white skin with every downstroke. He stoops to gather a few logs and when he stands you see a badge of black metal fixed to his chest, carved with delicate appealing swirls.

Uncertain how the badge manages to stay attached to bare skin, you greet the man and ask about the curiosity. Without responding, the pale man drops the wood in his arms and rips the badge away from his body, revealing a long serrated wooden spike that oozes with thick liquid the color of ripe tomatoes. He offers it to you, evidently unaffected by the fresh wound the spike left behind. “Perhaps you’d like it for yourself,” he says, his dark eyes becoming hungry, his teeth sharpening by the moment. “I won’t need it any longer…”