:: 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.”

:: Random Location—Tor Ysbryd Garreg ::

Tor Ysbryd Garreg

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/19/15

Tor Ysbryd Garreg

Prominent Feature: Tor

Nation: Bóreans

Condition: Lush, Holy

Weather: Sprinkles

Color: Redwood

Keyword: Gargantuan

For the last hour of your journey all other conifers have given way to trees as tall as castles—the mighty redwoods. Through the bare lower trunks you see a dim glow the color of lapis gracing the silhouettes of the underbrush; you know you’re close. Finally, as you clear the treeline your full view is overwhelmed by gargantuan hunks of stone piled haphazardly upon one another. Tor Ysbryd Garreg towers above you, above even the tops of the redwood trees.

The company of bórean exemplars has already arrived, attesting to the efficiency of their tunnels. The avatar of stone steps forward, reciting the final plea of the ritual. You pause just inside the treeline to sit and watch the ceremony. The rain sprinkles your face, the spongy moss yields under your hands, and for a moment you let the sanctity of the place ease the tension in your body. Then, the avatar’s recitation reaches a crescendo, the lapis glow intensifies, and the forest floor begins to tremble…