Hey there! May I ask for 1d10 village myths/folklore please?
Never cut a knot. You must always untangle it, lest the thread spirits grow angry. They lurk in every knot you tie, from your apron strings to the woven talisman above your door to the rug at your hearth. See that the threads hold fast, and they will bring you good fortune.
They say a young man lives in the woods, with a face as sweet as an angel’s and a voice to match. They call him The Deathless. If you wander too far from the path, he’ll come to greet you. You must never follow him or else you’ll be lost in the woods until you starve.
Once there was tricky, clever girl. She saw fit to challenge the way of things, and for that the gods frowned. She challenged them to a contest: three tasks, and whoever completed them first and best would be free to do as they wished. It is a long story, but in their folly, the gods allowed her to choose the tasks, and in so doing, she trapped them in paintings, leaving her free to live as she desired without the overbearing press of the will of the gods.
There is a creature that lives at the bottom of the well. You must whisper your sorrows to it, and in turn it will cry great puddles of tears. Its is a sad life, but our well never runs dry.
If you must cross the river when the water runs high and threatens to sweep you away, tuck a gift of bread and wine into your pocket. Toss them in when you reach the center, in hope of sating the river spirits.
Fear not the dead of night, for the sky is merely a blanket and the stars are pinpricks of light through which the lady of midnight watches and shines her light. The moon is hers, a carefully crafted button that slowly, s l o w l y is done and undone as the days pass.
When you look at the fire in your oven, take care not to stare too long. The vulpine creature that lives in flame can steal your heart through one smoldering gaze.
A pinch of rosemary in your porridge in the morning and a bitter brew of sourgrass and bleeding heart leaf in the evening will ensure your loved one will take notice of you at the next snowfall.
There was a great hero who lived here once. Did you know? They drove off the monsters that had stripped this land bare. A great lord came to them and invited them to his manor, offering riches and acclaim. But the hero refused. Then a mighty king came to the hero, promising honor and and half his kingdom. The hero again refused. Finally, a golden god came to the hero and promised immortality and glory. Still, the hero refused. Here they stayed for the rest of their days, laying down their sword, which became the river you see now, and burying their armor to create fertile farmland for their descendants to tend for years to come.
During the first falling leaves of autumn, you might glimpse the shadowy shapes of children among the branches of the trees. These are the children of trees, gone to plant themselves anew somewhere else.
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