Wether the River Ram- Please, tell us more of him! What legends were associated with him?
Wether the River Ram glides across the rushing waters, searching for those dead souls who have not moved on. For this reason, many undead are terrified of rivers and creeks and refuse to cross running water. One never knows when the Ram will be coming by, ready to whelm the careless undead beneath his pounding hooves and iron horns, bearing them under the waves and dragging them by fishing line back into the afterlife. The only sign of Wether’s approach is a kingfisher’s call suddenly cutting off—a rather unreliable meter, as it requires both the presence of a kingfisher and for that kingfisher to have been in the middle of a song when Wether drew near.
Wether’s worshipers included fishers and ferrypeople, who prayed to be safely borne to the afterlife should they slip from their crafts and meet watery ends, those dedicated to hunting undead, gravediggers and cadaver collectors, the inhabitants of undead-plagued villages, and the more cautious necromancers.
Wether is long dead now, of course. But undead sometimes seem completely unaware of the gods ever died. Spirit Rangers still often swear by him.
Oh, and here’s a little tale about the River Ram—consider this your update for Saturday!:
How the Wraithstream Came to Be (and Why Pit Fiends Have Such Lovely Fluffy Coats)
It is said that the Wraithstream was created as a result of an ill-conceived wager between Wether and Mali, the Lavender Gatekeeper, whose task it was to usher recently departed souls into the afterlife.
Once upon a time, back when the gods still lived and the bread only rarely grew moldy, Mali and Wether entered into a fierce argument. Mali felt that Wether was too cruel to his charges, and demanded that he find a less vicious way of transporting the wayward spirits than dragging them with fishing line strung ‘round their littlest toes.
The two made a bet: Wether would let Mali take care of one of his largest rivers, and if they could collect more undead souls in that one river than Wether could in all the rest, Wether would adopt Mali’s methods. If Mali lost, however, they would have to wear Wether’s itchy wool for all eternity.
The contest began, and at once Mali realized that, as was quite often the case, they had made a reckless wager: Mali could not swim. They prepared to concede the bet.
Unfortunately, a tricksome demon god known as Birdcatcher had overheard the business. Birdcatcher was a malicious and mischievous sort, and as Wether was friend to the Unseelie Court and Mali was friend to the Seelie Court, Birdcatcher decided to play a wicked prank to spite the fey a little. It took the form of a young child and spoke to Mali, offering to bail out the river so that Mali could simply run along the riverbed collecting souls. Mali, who, as a rule in these sorts of stories, always makes the wrong decision, agreed.
So Birdcatcher opened its mouth wide, wide as a wishing well, and sucked up all the water out of the river. Mali was delighted, and immediately set about running north and south along the riverbed, capturing troublesome spirits in woven lavender baskets. But Birdcatcher wasn’t done. Birdcatcher gripped the corners of its mouth and tugged, opening its mouth wider and wider, until demons started to slip out—first a few imps, then dozens of succubi and sparkle fiends, and then the seven terrible pit fiends themselves. The hellish host poured into the empty river, gleefully collecting the helpless souls.
When Mali and Wether realized what was going on, they were horrified, and immediately called for help. Luckily, Mareil, the Goddess of Ropes, Cords and Bindings Both Sensual and Practical, just happened to be visiting one of her churches in the area. Mareil was aligned with neither demons nor fey, but greatly disliked Birdcatcher*, so when she saw what was going on, she clapped her hands three times.
On the first clap, her third husband, Mog (the God of Mud and Clay) was summoned from his prison, and he obligingly scored a great ravine such that the whole empty river sank hundreds of feet down, trapping the demons below.
On the second clap, Mareil sealed the ravine, preventing any sort of non-godly motion. The demons and undead alike were helplessly paralyzed.
On the third clap, as Mali and Wether had by now explained to her the terms of the bet, she took away Wether’s wool and trapped Mali in an uncomfortable woolen collar (this is why Mali is commonly depicted with a fluffy pink collar in artistic renditions). However, she felt that the bet seemed a bit unfair—she knew quite well how prone Mali was to reckless bets, and thought Wether had taken advantage a little. So she put the rest of the wool on the seven pit fiends.
And this is why, to this day, the Wraithstream traps all immortals who venture into it—and why pit fiends have cute fluffy wool coats, much to their annoyance.
*Gods hating Birdcatcher, along with Mali making bad bets and wagers, is one of the most consistent elements of the old tales.
