Creatures of myth, magic, and imagination

We've all heard of dragons, ogres, goblins, elves and trolls. Many are familiar with griffins, sphinxes, harpies, the minotaur, and Medusa. Those with a greater interest in mythical creatures will have heard of manticores, basilisks, naiads and dryads, as well as the Naga and the Ouroboros. But there are so many mythical creatures, from so many cultures, and with so many variations and names, that it's virtually impossible to list them all in one place.

So I won't even try. But, as time goes on, and when I get a moment here and there, I'll add a post about some creature or another. The thing is, apart from the famous Greek, Roman and Egyptian legends that we all might have heard of, there are also regional legends that are not so familiar. A famous regional creature is Big Foot, or Sasquatch, in the northern parts of America... and the Abominable Snowman, or Yeti, is a similar monster found wandering the icy mountains of Tibet. (I firmly believe this creature is related to the Hoth Wampa in The Empire Strikes Back.) But whereas these are ones we've heard of, there's no end of region-based legends and creatures that the rest of the world might not have heard of. Where does it end?

I don't know where it ends but I do know where it starts, and that's with the creatures I've used (or thought about using) in my own books...

• 02/22/11 - The science of fantasy creatures
• 04/23/10 - The naga... and Medusa
• 02/02/10 - Manticores
• 08/29/09 - Male harpies
• 07/08/09 - Gumberoos and squonks

The science of fantasy creatures

Posted on February 22, 2011

As I make progress with Lake of Spirits (I'm now starting chapter eight) I'm reminded again of how bizarre creatures from myth and legend really are. Not just bizarre, but downright mind-boggling. How did these creatures come about? We know they never really existed, but why do we even entertain the idea of these things in stories?

I suppose the reason we "accept" them is because they're sort of fun and cool. That's why I write about them. But even as I'm writing about them, I'm questioning how one half of an animal can inexplicably be joined to something entirely different, defying biology with no ill effects.

Take, for example, the griffin – part eagle and part lion. Its head and front legs, along with its wings, belong to a giant eagle, while the back half belongs to a lion. Talons and feathers at the front, claws and fur at the back. The size of the eagle portion perfectly matches the lion, so it's an oversized eagle we're talking about here. Still, I'm not convinced that those wings, however large, would get the weight of that lion-butt off the ground.

There's a myth that says, "According to science, it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly." This myth was probably invented because of an overly simplified "linear treatment of oscillating aerofoils," where scientists clearly didn't take into account "dynamic stall in every oscillation cycle." It's obvious, when you think about it. Bumblebees can fly perfectly well, thank you. But most fantasy creatures really are aerodynamically unable to fly.

If a griffin was the size of a gnat, maybe it would be okay. Then perhaps the "dynamic stall in every oscillation cycle" would kick in. The laws of physics say that things work differently in the insect world, that their tiny sizes give them strength and abilities we mammals can only dream about. We've all heard that fleas are good at jumping, and it's true, everybody knows they can leap over a foot. Hmm, by that I mean they can leap more than twelve inches, not hurdle someone's boot, although maybe it amounts to the same thing. In any case, that's about the same as a human bounding over two football fields, or as high as a 100-floor building. Pretty impressive even by insects' standards... but if a flea was magically grown to the size of a human, don't expect it to perform the aforementioned leaps across football fields, because it could never happen.

But WHY? I hear some of you screaming (while the rest of you roll your eyes). Why can't a giant flea leap across town? It would happen in a movie, wouldn't it? Well, yes, but movies are utterly wrong. Take a small sugar cube. To make it twice as big, you have to double its height, width and depth, which works out to the equivalent of eight cubes stacked together. So a cube that's twice as big in linear terms (2 x 2 x 2) is eight times the volume and therefore eight times the weight. Likewise, a cube that's three times bigger is going to be twenty-seven times the weight (3 x 3 x 3), and so on. A flea that grows to twice its size must be eight times heavier, so its legs are not going to work quite as well. If it grows to a thousand times bigger – up from a millimeter to a full meter in length – then it's going to be a ridiculous billion times heavier (at least to Americans; it's a mere thousand million times bigger if you use the more sensible European numbering system).

Clearly resizing a bug like this isn't going to work. Its legs would snap. Think of a pond skater (or water strider), a small long-legged bug that stands on the skin of the water. It wouldn't be able to stand on the skin of the water if it were the size of a dog. If you dropped a 10-inch lizard from a height of ten inches, it would just get up and run away. But if you dropped a 100-foot lizard from a height of a hundred feet, it would splatter into goo. Size really does matter, you know. As a kid I wondered why a real-life car crumples easily at the front when it crashes into a wall, while my little toy car survived intact even when thrown with force, amounting to a scaled speed of hundreds of miles an hour.

This started me thinking (again) about Abigail, who as you may know is a faerie. She grows faerie wings and buzzes around, but actually her full transformation includes downsizing to the size of a hand – the true faerie size. So if that's true, and her faerie wings are designed to carry her around while she's no taller than six inches, then how can she fly while at full human height?

Well, I have a few answers, which I'll explore in Lake of Spirits. I'm pretty certain I won't be able to explain fully enough to satisfy physicists, but a smattering of "unknown magic" usually gets writers out of tight spots. One thing that's interesting to note, though, is what happens when you take a "normal" human girl of around five feet tall and 100 lbs (or 1600 ozs), and reduce her to six inches. That's ten times smaller, which works out at a thousand times lighter. So she goes from 1600 ounces down to a mere 1.6 ounces. Sounds about right, if you imagine a six-inch faerie standing on a set of scales. So her wings at this tiny faerie size don't have much work to do. Yet Abigail, even at five feet tall, manages to buzz around quite easily...

This is why a sprinkling of magic dust really, really helps.

Apparently humans put about fifteen times their body weight on their knees when they run. Many animals put on a hundred times their body weight – think of cats leaping down from fences. If you increase a human's physical size with the use of a magic wand, he only needs to be three times taller and already he's unable to stand up on those weak, feeble legs. That is, if everything else remains relative – muscles, bone density, etc. But an ogre evolved to be at least three times taller than humans, so I can easily get away with having Robbie transform into one; it's just a natural part of the transformation. The same can be said of Hal, Fenton, and others. But Abigail is an anomaly because she should be the size of a hand.

There's a lot more to it than just weight, but if you're really interested, you could read this brilliant article by a physicist about The Biology of B-Movie Monsters. You'll never see King Kong in the same light again.

But I digressed somewhere along the way. I was going to say that it's weird how halves of animals can be simply thrown together and, apparently, that's enough for the creature to become an "acceptable myth." Emily is a naga – a snake body with a human head. Does this mean she's a cold-blooded reptile with a warm-blooded head? How does that work, exactly? Poor Miss Simone is half fish! And I couldn't help wondering about Dewey, the centaur. Strictly speaking, this isn't a half-and-half creature. This is a half-human joined to a more-than-half-horse. The horse section is basically missing its head and neck, but the rest is intact – so does this mean centaurs have two hearts? I like to think they do, as well as two pairs of lungs and so on. Maybe the human-equine insides are all joined up in a mysterious but biologically sound way. Perhaps there's just one stomach, though; the centaur eats food with its human mouth, and the food is digested throughout the length of its body and finally passed through – er, well, anyway, you get the idea.

This is the tip of the iceberg when you really stop and think about it, but I've gone on long enough. I was going to start on about shapeshifters and what happens to, say, Hal when he eats a meal while in his dragon form and then reverts to human. Does the undigested food stay the same size...? Yeesh.

Pass the magic dust, someone.

After all this, it seems that the most normal, logical, and credible fantasy creatures are dragons!

The naga... and Medusa

Posted on April 23, 2010

One of the not-so-well-known creatures in myth and legend is the naga, generally described as a half-human, half-snake person. It's an Indian legend and a pretty cool one at that, hence their inclusion in my Island of Fog trilogy, particularly the second and third books.

The word Naga in the Sanskrit language means snake or serpent. The Naga were also a group of people spread throughout India during the epic Mahabharata. As epics go, this was a really long one, apparently ten times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined. That's some heavy reading, with more pages than Stephen King's gargantuan novel Under The Dome. Anyway, the ancient Naga people were most likely a serpent-worshipping group who were later described as serpents themselves in ancient Indian literature.

I find it interesting that the Indian Cobra is still called a naga in Hindi and other languages of India, whereas a female naga is a nagin or nagini. I couldn't help noticing the correlation between "female" and "nagging." *ducks to avoid flying brick*

Most naga creatures are depicted with giant serpent bodies and upper torsos of humans. There are also versions which have no arms, just a human head in place of the snake's head. I like to think that the head-only version dwells underwater, perhaps a more primitive species, while the more common variety live on land and have human-like settlements and so on. In any case, my own version of the naga is able to communicate with any form of serpent, which in the real world is limited to snakes, but in a fantasy setting includes those good old giant-size sea serpents and all other related monsters, perhaps even the Oroborous, which circles the world!

Snakes are generally creepy, sinister and dangerous things. In Greek history, Medusa is a snake-headed woman whose gaze can turn heroes to stone. In the legend she was one of three sisters who was "made hideous" by the goddess Athena for the crime of being too beautiful for her own good. She was turned into a monster and exiled to an island, cursed with a terrible gaze – anyone who looked her way would immediately turn to stone. Maybe this was the origin of the phrase "drop dead gorgeous."

In the classic movie Clash of the Titans (and the new 2010 version too), as well as in a lot of fantasy art, she's depicted with a distinctly monstrous serpentine body. This makes her look very much like a naga, but normally Medusa is classed as a gorgon. Then again, gorgon just means dreadful or terrible. In the early legends, the Gorgon was a single monster of the underworld, but in later legends there were actually three Gorgons – three sisters, two of whom were immortal, and Medusa, who was mortal and eventually slain by Perseus. So what exactly are gorgons, then? Because of Medusa, some authors write about gorgons as an entire species of snake-headed, evil-eyed monsters, with or without snake bodies. But that's not really the case; only Medusa was that way. In other versions of the legend, gorgons are an entire species of creatures with the power to turn people to stone, but only Medusa had snakes on her head; in this legend, her beautiful golden locks were turned into snakes when she was exiled, making her unique.

Look at the harpies; again there were originally only three of these (three sisters) yet many authors treat harpies as an entire species of ugly winged humans. Likewise, the original Gorgon legend altered to become three Gorgon sisters, and then altered further to become a species of gorgon monsters. Whether the gorgons are simply ordinary people with the power to turn people to stone with one glance, or nasty half-snake people that resemble nagas and have snakes instead of hair, is up to the author's imagination.

The naga feature heavily in my Island of Fog books, but a little known fact is that one of Miss Simone's old school friends is a gorgon. We've yet to meet that gorgon, but one day we will...

Manticores

Posted on February 2, 2010

Look, I can't help it – I'm a fan of manticores. Most people like dragons, others like centaurs and faeries and griffins and what-have-you. But I was always a bit partial to manticores, and so I had to include one in my Island of Fog series.

Traditionally they are composite beasts with "a blood-colored lion's body, the face of a man with blue eyes, and a tail resembling the sting of a scorpion." They are powerful beasts that "can leap great distances." The manticore eats human flesh and devours the clothing too; it's said that no trace of a victim is ever found. Its voice is "a whistle that sounds like a melody from pipes." Some say it can "shoot spines from its tail."

I always laugh at early depictions of mythical creatures, because they always look more ridiculous than frightening. I think it's just the way people used to draw in the olden days. Modern illustrations are much better! Whether they're accurate or not depends on which version of the creature you prefer – for instance, with or without wings.

According to a really ancient description: "It is said, that in India is a beast wonderly shapen, and is like to the bear in body and in hair, and to a man in face. And hath a right red head, and a full great mouth, and an horrible, and in either jaw three rows of teeth distinguished atween. The outer limbs thereof be as it were the outer limbs of a lion, and his tail is like to a wild scorpion, with a sting, and smiteth with hard bristle pricks as a wild swine, and hath an horrible voice, as the voice of a trumpet, and he runneth full swiftly, and eateth men. And among all beasts of the earth is none found more cruel, nor more wonderly shape, as Avicenna saith. And this beast is called Baricos in Greek."

The creature has a number of name variations including manticore and manticora (both common) as well as the older mantichora and mantikhoras. Basically it means "man-eater." Somewhere I read about the "man-tiger," which struck me as logical; after all, the beast is red-furred and savage like a lion, and "manticore" even sounds a little like "man-tiger." But whatever you call it, these creatures are pretty nasty!

I first met a manticore (or manticora in this case) when, back in the 1980s, I read A Spell for Chameleon by Piers Anthony. This is the first novel in the long-running Magic of Xanth series, and in this case the manticora was serving time as a guard at the Good Wizard Humphrey's castle. The creature wasn't really "used" much in the novel, though, and when I introduced a manticore into my own novel, Island of Fog, I wanted to make full use of its hideousness. My version has the blue eyes, the human face, the three rows of needle-like teeth, a ball of poison-tipped quills on the end of its scorpion tail that can fire across distances and bring down victims, and a deadly black stinger that protrudes from this ball of quills oozing thick yellow venom. My manticore has no wings though. I think that's going too far; my characters have to have a fighting chance against this monster!

One eerie aspect of the manticore is its high, fluty voice. I made use of this to describe the human aspect of the manticore in my book, as though the young shapeshifter (who is stuck in his manticore form) were trying to escape the monster he had become.

The manticore gets quite a bit of action in Island of Fog, but only a little bit in Labyrinth of Fire. But those who would like to see more of him, fear not – he will return with a vengeance in the third book, Mountain of Whispers.

Male harpies

Posted on August 29, 2009

To those who know anything about Greek mythology, the term "male harpies" might seem like an oxymoron. Half bird, half woman, harpies are nasty creatures – but female. Some pictures depict them as large birds with human heads, while others present them as a little more human-like. The "original" drawings suggest they look like this:

To quote from Wikipedia:

The harpies were sisters of Iris, daughters of Thaumas and Electra. Phineas, a king of Thrace, had the gift of prophecy. Zeus, angry that Phineas revealed too much, punished him by blinding him and putting him on an island with a buffet of food which he could never eat. The harpies always arrived and stole the food out of his hands right before he could satisfy his hunger, and befouled the remains of his food. This continued until the arrival of Jason and the Argonauts.

So the original harpies were three ugly sisters, and the word "harpy" derives from the Greek harpazein, which means "to snatch." It seems there are endless ways to describe harpies, and every book or movie has its own preference. Sometimes harpies have arms as well as wings, and other times only wings.

Over time, harpies have become not just a few ugly thieving sisters but a whole species of nasty, hideous bird-women. Plenty of modern artists have come up with some really vicious-looking beasties, and I like all these versions better than the comical bird-with-human-head type. However, with a target audience of 9+, I have to make sure that my harpies are covered from head to toe with plumage so there are no rude bits showing! But otherwise I like the idea of human people with wings, and talons for feet.

Just to be different (or awkward), the harpies in my own books are both male and female, although mostly female. Apart from certain types of sea life and plants, I can't see how a species can survive without males. (I can hear women out there disagreeing with this.) Then again, how does a half-bird, half-human species like this get started in the first place? Let's not even go there...

A modern dictionary says that "harpy" simply means "grasping, vicious person," so I don't see why we can't have males as well. Turning the legend on its head, maybe the original harpies in Greek mythology were just a few female harpies from a pre-existing species. Still, in keeping with tradition, the harpies that show up in Labyrinth of Fire have a queen (not a king) and they live in a nest (although not the cute little bowl of twigs in a tree that you're probably thinking of). These harpies are filthy and cruel, and they steal food from the nearby village on a regular basis. And they steal babies too.

If you haven't yet read Island of Fog then you might be wondering what harpies have to do with anything. If you have read it, then you'll understand... and maybe you'll feel sorry for one of those kids! I've just got halfway through Chapter Twelve of Labyrinth of Fire and it's left a nasty stench of harpy in the air.

Gumberoos and squonks

Posted on July 8, 2009

This week I've been having a bit of fun throwing all sorts of ghastly monsters at Hal and his friends. I'm on Chapter Seven of Labyrinth of Fire (the sequel to Island of Fog) and the young heroes have just entered a forest. This isn't a major part of the plot so I'm not giving anything away here, but during their travels they come across some very strange beasties indeed.

Apparently, in real life, lumberjacks and forest workers have their own catalog of mythical creatures, or Fearsome Critters. Among them (and there are plenty!) there are gumberoos and squonks. Gumberoos are bear-like creatures with no fur; instead their skin is black and leathery. Many stories say they have comically large feet. Anyway, you can shoot at gumberoos, but arrows and bullets bounce right off. Worse, the arrow or bullet will likely bounce right back at YOU. Only fire can kill these critters.

Squonks are the sort of things you joke about around a camp fire. They're incredibly ugly, with wrinkly skin covered in warts and moles. Squonks are so aware of their ugliness that they cry all the time. You can actually track squonks by following their trail of tears, but if you catch one in a sack, it's likely that you'll get back to camp with nothing but a patch of damp and some bubbles, because the squonk has dissolved into tears.

Now, I'm not trying to make my book comical by including such creatures in the story. Quite the opposite, in fact; I tend to take these creatures and darken them so that they're kind of creepy or scary, perhaps more realistic, but still rooted in legend. Legends often come from something real, but are distorted and embellished over centuries to make the story-telling more exciting. In Ye Olden Days, there were no books or historical records – only stories around the camp fire and tales passed from one generation to the next by word of mouth. So it's not surprising we have a plethora of mythical creatures!

For instance – Cyclops, the one-eyed giant, might have been based on the finding of a dwarf elephant's skull on one of the Greek islands. At the time, Greeks were unfamiliar with elephants and this ancient skull was a curiosity because it was twice the size of a human head and appeared to have one large eye in the center (the elephant's nasal cavity). The elephant's eye sockets were around the side and might have been mistaken for ears. So, the story of a one-eyed giant might have started because of the discovery of an ordinary elephant's skull.

Everyone knows about gryphons, or griffins, fabulous creatures with the head, front legs and wings of an eagle, and the body, rear legs and tail of a lion. One possible origin of this creature (that I happen to like) is one of many discoveries of a protoceratops dinosaur skeleton. This particular dinosaur is about the shape of a lion, but its head has a large beak like a bird. You can easily imagine how a superstitious traveler, thousands of years ago before we knew of dinosaurs, might stumble upon this skeleton and make up wild tales of a fantastic creature. A gold digger in the Gobi finding such a skeleton might assume the beast once guarded the gold, hence the traditional idea that griffins guard treasure.

As for the wings... well, bones shift around in the ground, and maybe, during its long burial, some of the smaller bones broke apart and shifted away from its head and frill, and ended up lying scattered near the backbone. An active mind might assume they were once wings.

I'm pretty sure there are plenty of creatures that are just completely made up on the spur of the moment by some drunken lumberjacks around the camp fire. But most of these mythical creatures were based on something, however mundane.

Either that, or these creatures really did exist and the so-called elephant's skull actually was the bones of Cyclops, and there was no such thing as a protoceratops but griffins once roamed the earth. It's a thought.