Week 14 Storytelling: The Failed Revenge of Joukahainen

Väinämöinen blinked as one arrow whizzed past his head. Was there a hunt nearby or something?

The sound of another arrow reached him, but from the loud thump it made Väinämöinen assumed the arrow had hit the ground. Very strange. If it was a hunt, the men were absolutely terrible. They weren’t likely to bring food home tonight.

A spark - a sense - just the slightest tingling of forewarning - but Väinämöinen didn’t think there was anything really worth noting around that could possibly -

OW!

Joukahainen let loose a triumphant cry as the older man went tumbling down from horse and fell into the waiting sea below the cliffside. He had done it! He had shot Väinämöinen right in the shoulder, the old sorcerer was dead!

“This is the penalty for humiliating me, old man!” Joukahainen cried out. “And for the vile attack upon my sister, which led to her untimely death!” He hopped off his horse and strode forward into the road, holding his trusty bow high. “I, Joukahainen have defeated you here upon this plain! With bow and arrow I have slain the most powerful sorcerer to ever live!” Letting loose a loud laugh, Joukahainen threw his head back to crow to the sky, “No one shall ever beat me again!”

Another laugh was halted in its tracks as thunder rolled across the sky. Joukahainen looked about in confusion, watching as lighting joined the rolling clouds. What in the world - ?

A boom was heard, and Joukahainen jumped, spinning about to look at the source of the noise. There, over the side of the cliff, safe and sound was Väinämöinen. The sorcerer was alive!

“How?” Joukahainen cried out in disbelief. “I shot you with my bow, you fell into the sea!”

Väinämöinen didn’t even blink - gave no reaction from those glowing, luminescent eyes. They throbbed with power, as did his cloak and limbs. The wind whipped about him and tousled his hair, physical evidence of the great well of sheer power within.

“Are you the one who fired that arrow,” Väinämöinen questioned with a tilt of his head.

“I killed you!” Joukahainen protested, grabbing for another arrow and notching it. “This time for sure I’ll -”

Joukahainen made a choked sound, and then fell to the ground. The bow fell from limp fingers as the last breath left the body.

Väinämöinen floated back down to safely plant his feet upon the road, the wind dissipating and the storm dying out. With barely a thought the wound upon his shoulder was healed, and Väinämöinen shook his head to clear it. What had he been doing again? Oh yes.

Väinämöinen mounted his horse and resumed his trek west.

(Korra in the Avatar State from Avatar: Legend of Korra

Gif from wifflegif)

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Notes: So, in the Kalevala the young Joukahainen challenges the older and more powerful Väinämöinen, who defeats him. To save his life, Joukahainen barters his sister in marriage. His sister hates the idea and kills herself, so Joukahainen seeks revenge. In the actual epic, he shoots Väinämöinen in the shoulder, and Väinämöinen falls into the sea and spends the next several bits sobbing and being a useless whiner-baby. I thought it should go more like this, for reasons explained in my essay.

Bib: "Joukahainen's Revenge" from the Kalevala compiled by Elias Lonnrot in the 19th century, author unknown or various.

Week 13 Essay: Do Vampires Have Qualifications?

It’s been interesting reading these folktales and seeing how different cultures describe their undead. Like, for this week’s reading it was being a warlock. The stories talked of vampires as being dead warlocks who pop out to do evil deeds. They killed people, yes, but generally did not drink blood (or eat them - so not zombies either) or flee from sunlight, garlic, etc. so do they qualify as vampires? Is it just a name, or do they have to qualify? What are those qualifications? Do they vary place to place?

Considering the evidence (I have quite an extensive list since I got really into vamps during eleventh grade - I’ve got more than I thought, actually) I can only conclude it varies. I mean, looking at disposal alone can bring about that conclusion! We’re used to a wooden stake through the heart. In Bram Stoker’s Dracula it was actually a wooden stake in the heart (had to stay there, but it mainly immobilized the vamp, not killed it), cut off the head, stuff garlic in it’s mouth, and place it between the legs when burying the body. In Nigeria there are no stakes or garlic involved - you killed a vampire by driving a nail through it’s left temple. Others have you burn the body and scatter the ashes (Anne Rice did it first Twilighters) or get it in sunlight (even though modern media doesn’t like this one because it severely limits your main character’s options), place metal over the eyelids, use silver bullets (even though it’s more commonly associated with werewolves, it is the common lore of some vampire tales), or even as simple as placing a lemon on the mouth of the corpse for a suspected vampire.

I told you it was an extensive list.

So really, who’s to say you can’t claim it as a vampire? The Russian folktales have them all former warlocks - okay great. They are killed by the cross and silver - sure! As long as they are a dead body that moves around as a conscious, animate being and doesn’t wander aimlessly devouring flesh (therefore being a zombie) I’m pretty sure you can call it a vampire. 

Unless it sparkles. Then it’s a fairy.

(Snape telling it like it is. I found it here)

(20 points if you got the reference)

Week 14 Essay: The Problem with Mages

So, I did the Väinämöinen reading this week, and I loved it (epic poetry not in prose - yay!) but I found myself running into the same old problem again:

If you’re this all-powerful mage, why don’t you just mop the floor with everybody?

See, this happened in a BBC show called Merlin, too. It’s a great, very cute little retelling of the Arthurian legends where Arthur is still a prince, Uther has outlawed magic, and Merlin becomes the manservant of Arthur. He’s informed by a dragon of his destiny to serve Arthur and protect him so he can become the Once and Future King and return magic to the land, and eventually the two become bros. But while the show ends its first season with Merlin basically getting power over life and death itself (within some rules) that’s basically as epic as it gets. Oh yes, Merlin has some other fantastic moments, but they’re not nearly satisfying enough. It’s either Merlin alone with just the bad guy in a cave, or being secret so no one knows he saved their butts, or Merlin is disguised as an old man.

Like, no. Just no.

I want an all-powerful mage who is also one bad ass mother fucker. I want him to look at a field of enemies and just go - “hah, right, later” and call fire down from heaven to decimate the field and destroy all his enemies.

Okay, I understand that someone who is all-powerful all the time with no conflict makes for a boring story. But come on! If you tote the main character as the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, he shouldn’t get taken out by an arrow to his shoulder. Not even near his heart! Instead he falls into the ocean and can’t save himself. Really? I understand adding drama and conflict, but completely ignoring the canonical facts about your character in order to do it - without any stated legitimate reason - is just infuriating.

There is nothing wrong with a character who blows through the opposition every now and then. Nor if he does so on a fairly regular basis. Heck, that’s all Liam Neeson’s character does in Taken, and that movie was highly successful!

I just want my characters who have badass potential to be badass, is that too much to ask?



(I just really love Merlin okay guys? Web source: rebloggy)

Week 13 Storytelling: Vlad the Warlock Slayer

Vlad grunted as he hefted the wood higher over his shoulder. He’d finally gotten all of it chopped, and this was his last bit to throw on the pile before he’d be able to go inside and get some breakfast. Thank God, he was starving!

Making breakfast was short work (he’d had to perfect the talent years ago, after his mother died - no way was his father going to cook) and Vlad got to eating as the tell-tale crash signaled his father had woken up.

Now, his dad wasn’t a mean man per se, but he was a warlock, and most warlocks tended to be a little… off. The man was clumsy when he just woke up, hated crosses (absolutely none were allowed inside the house), and always wore some kind of grey wool.

Yeah, he was weird.

Vlad glanced up as the man entered the room, dragging something behind him. With a sigh, the tall young man started to rise in order to help when he got a clear view of the object:

It was a coffin.

Vlad fell back down on his butt in shock. What is he doing dragging a coffin out of his room?

The noise alerted his father, who noticed him with a wide grin. “My boy!” he called cheerfully. Vlad felt his brows furrow as worry began to gnaw at his sinking gut. The warlock dropped the coffin where it was and started walking over. “Well, nearly a man, really. If you weren’t so focused on taking care of me you’d be a married man, off in the world already!”

Dear God, not this again, Vlad thought. They’d had this conversation more times than he could count. It’s too early for this. “Really, Father,” Vlad protested, getting together a plate for the man - food was generally the best way to shut the guy up - for a skinny man he sure could eat. “It’s no problem.”

“Ah, my sweet child,” his father replied. The warlock came up to take the plate from him, and then set it aside.

The sinking in his gut got worse. This couldn’t possibly be good.

“I am getting to the age where I will no longer be among the living,” the warlock stated. “I worry for you, what with your refusing to marry and the obsession with vampires.”

“They’re real,” Vlad murmured his protest. He had no idea how his father could be a warlock, a man of the occult, and not think vampires were real.

Graciously, the man ignored him. “But your army pension won’t last forever my boy, not for any comfortable living, anyway.”

Vlad very much doubted that. He’d spent six years as a soldier and saved the life of the Czar’s son. He could quit his job at the smithy whenever he wanted.

“And so, I thought of the best option!” Good, his father was finally getting to the point. The man opened the coffin lid with a flourish, revealing a silk interior stuffed with gold. Vlad had to rub his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him. Nope, still shiny.

His father preened in the face of Vlad’s obvious shock. “I have amassed this over the years. I wanted to take it with me into the next life, but if you can outdo my cunning then I’ll let you have it.”

And there was the catch. Vlad got to his feet and turned to his father, wary. “How exactly am I to do that?” he queried. His father had always been the smart one, but the man had a vicious streak a mile wide.

The warlock smiled, all teeth. Vlad could never remember that smile being quite so frightening. “Why, a fight to the death of course!”

A moment passed, two, as Vlad stood there staring at his father in disbelief.

Finally, he stated, “No.”

His father pouted. “But if you outwit my cunning, you’ll gain all my riches!”

“The game is you trying to kill me!”

“And?”

“......... That is so not fair - you’re a terrible father.”

The warlock frowned. “No need to speak to me so, I’m giving you a generous opportunity here.”

Vlad was about to protest that no, a warlock against a normal human being (military career notwithstanding) was certainly not a fair or generous thing, but before he could speak his father charged.

Vlad nearly jumped out of his skin as his father’s took on a grey cast and a rotten stench filled the air. His father was already dead! When did that happen?

Panicked shock was soon overridden with instinct, and Vlad pulled his cross from beneath his shirt and hit his father in the head with it. With a mighty wheeze, the warlock fell and died. Well, died again. Un-died?

Vlad sighed and went over to the other side of the room to take a seat while he calmed his racing heart. Well, now he had a dead warlock father who was previously undead and a coffin full of gold.

Next time the guys at work call me paranoid for my vampire attack preparations, they won’t be able to deny it saved my life.

(Steve Rodgers being sexy in Avengers 2 released clip. Web source: Movie pilot)



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Notes: So I really loved this week’s readings, and couldn’t help but to expand on my small bit of dialog written as ‘notes’ for The Warlock in my reading diary. In the original story the father is already dead, and the daughters-in-law are required (one at a time) to sit in the room with the coffin at night, wear no cross, and spin grey-wool for a caftan. The father gets out of the coffin, asks if they followed instructions, and then kills them. The third (and last) daughter-in-law is smart and brings a cross anyway, which she uses to kill the warlock. They find his coffin full of gold - apparently he wanted to take it with him or only give it to someone who could outsmart him. I also added in bits from The Soldier and the Vampire because I could (mainly, that he’s a soldier who’s fought vampires). This is largely just me playing around, hope you guys enjoyed it.

Week 12 Essay: Remember, Remember, A Story from Last November

The Celtic Fairy Tales Unit was a very cool unit. I enjoyed the fresh perspective in all these different tales. It’s interesting to go back to the fantasy setting that I’m more used to after reading tales from everywhere else in the world. This unit was also just a lot of fun. I mean come on, leprechauns and witches and giants (oh my)! What’s more fun than that? It was a very light reading too, which was especially nice since I’ve been so bogged down recently.

The thing that stuck out the most to me was probably how similar Connla and the Fairy Maiden was to the Arthurian legend Lanval that I read in a previous class. In that legend, a knight is traveling and stumbles upon a court in the middle of the woods, with a sorceress queen who declares him her husband if he will never tell anyone about her. He agrees, and they live happily till he has to go back to court. There, Queen Guinevere tries to seduce him but he refuses. She won’t believe him when he says it’s because he has a lady, so he has to reveal his mystery wife. Then Guinevere accuses him of assault, Lanval is sad because his lady doesn’t visit him anymore, and Arthur wants his head. The unnamed lady does come to save him and spirit him away, but not till the very end.

Okay, it’s actually very different. I’ll grant you that. But the mystery maiden of great magical powers swooping in and finding herself a husband despite the whole court being opposed to it? That’s in both of the stories (basically). I was also remembering it slightly wrong when I read the Celtic tales unit. Oh well, it’s been a long week and we can’t all get it right all the time now can we?

(apology gif from Tumblr bowels because I know this is a crap essay but I'm honestly on so little sleep this is the best I could do - literally, you should have seen what it was pre-revision.)

Week 14 Reading Diary: Kalevala: Vainamoinen

Reading Diary - Kalevala: Vainamoinen

• Joukahainen and Väinämöinen
• Are the songs how they do magic?
• OMG, it’d be fun to do a nerd version of this listing of facts
• Star Trek vs Star Wars, lol
• or original vs reboot
• J sounds like he’s reading off an encyclopedia for dummies
• This is probably a big teaching song so kids can learn their history
• story idea - bard school, kid asks why they sing this one
• Songs are how they do magic - neat
• Seriously, what do you offer a mage who can obviously do anything he wants with a little magic?
• Good God, you can just promise your sister to save your own life? Ugh, men!
• Okay this girl is vain and stupid, Momma’s got the right idea
• Väinämöinen and Aino
• Random voice asks for adoration, I would have run too
• Probably wouldn’t have sobbed all day about it, though
• This girl is ridiculous - if you have to have an arranged marriage, an old guy who will die soon to leave you a wealthy widow is ideal
• …. she killed herself because of this. Brat.
• “Since I heard the cuckoo calling” sounds like a great title for something
• Väinämöinen Goes Fishing*
• fishing for a bride, that’s a new one
• She… certainly changed her tune quick. Guess being a fish teaches you life lessons (or she finally got the brat slapped out)
• The only people with sense in this epic are the mothers
• Joukahainen’s Revenge
• You’re gonna try this again? Really?
• Singing for a good shot is a funny notion, but doesn’t appear to have worked
• Don’t brag - gosh you sound like Paris right now
• Paris basically shots people on accident while hiding behind a pillar then jumps out and goes ‘hah! I hit you! Got you sucka!’ That’s why he manages to kill Achilles - he’s a bad shot who gets lucky and hits the only vulnerable part on Achilles
• Väinämöinen and the Mistress of Pohjola
• What happened to all-powerful mage? Like dude, call fire from heaven or make sea turtles carry you or something!
• Oh no, not the plot-point eagles!
• Oh God more crying. Why do epics always have such large amounts of sobbing?
• Aren’t you a mage? Do a Point-Me!!!
• Oh how the tables have turned
• Also, why do you want to go back? Things weren’t going so well there
• I feel a shield of [insert hero] ekphrasis coming on here
• Forging the Sampo
• Oh look he can do magic again. Is it a local thing?
• …. you never saw the daughter. Excuse me sir, I’m calling bulshit
• Golden girdles sound painful
• If his is the only smithy around, he’ll never be out of business
• That sounds like a very dangerous workplace
• Did he get the girl? Did he not? Is that what the next one’s about?

Week 12 Storytelling: The Sprightly Con

A sprightly tailor once was called upon by the great Macdonald to craft for him a pair of trews. Such sport was commonplace at Saddell castle that Macdonald added to the task a challenge - if the tailor could make the trews by night inside the church, his reward would be great indeed. For there were tales of a monster lurking beneath the stone hearth of the church, and all who saw it fled in fear.

The sprightly tailor was not afraid and undertook this challenge with relish. He assured the king not to worry for his undertaking, and the king assured him the reward would be vast. And so the sprightly tailor took his work into the church at sundown, and set to sewing at the beset of night.

Time passed well as the tailor went about his work with a happy hum. Yet then the ground shook. The very stone beneath his feet trembled in fright. With a mighty yawn like a bellow suddenly there appeared a giant head from beneath the stone!

The sprightly tailor did not pause in his task, though those large eyes stared straight through him. Nor did he jump as the monster opened it’s massive maw and questioned, “Can I finally leave this smelly church?”

The tailor replied with a slight chuckle. “Surely it can’t have been all as bad as that - weren’t you the one who wanted to nap?”

“Perhaps in a glade,” the giant protest, sitting up further and freeing more of its body from the stone flooring. “But the graveyard is below us. I will smell like the dead for weeks! Then how am I to catch a bride?”

“Don’t worry my friend,” the sprightly tailor interjected. “Once we split the reward money from this job you won’t have to worry about catching one. You’ll be able to buy all the brides you want!”

“Then let us hurry this up,” the giant concluded, “so that I may wash and return home. How much longer have you to work?”

“Not long at all.” And such was true - the sprightly tailor had long ago mastered the art of a strong, long stitch. It was nearly imperceptible to the eye, and held out as well as a proper stitch. The man had used it long in his quest of gaining gold for impossible tasks.

So the two partners sat quietly, until the night was nearing it’s end and the trews were completed. “Now for authenticity,” the sprightly tailor instructed. “We must convince them of the haunted nature of this church, for then the rewards will be greater. Chase me from the church as if you were a monster, and when I have reached Saddell castle give up chase and leave.”

The giant nodded agreement. Taking a deep breath, he let out a mighty roar such as caused the tailor to jump. And then the chase was on - the two partners running for their livelihoods as the dawn neared. When the sprightly tailor was safe inside the castle the giant bellowed as if denied his dinner and hit the castle with such force that the imprint of his hand remains to this day. As the cock crew, the giant withdrew.

And so the sprightly tailor was rewarded generously, and went on to split the riches with his partner, making them both wealthy men.

(Iconic moment from one of the best con movies ever made - Oceans Eleven. Web source)

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Notes: So I wanted to have some fun with this. In the original the giant is actually a monster, but I felt this was honestly just too perfect a set up. After all, getting paid to sew clothes in a haunted church on a dare? Piece of cake con right there!

Bib: "The Sprightly Tailor" from Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs (1892). Web source.