Sympathy for the Devil
BY ALPER ÖZKAN (MSN/PhD I)
If last week's column was about monsters you could almost feel sorry for, then this week will be about monsters you should feel sorry for. We humans reign supreme on Earth because of our tendency to brutally murder anything that looks at us funny to prove that we're the meanest species out there, and mythological creatures are no exception -- anything inhumanly strong exists mainly to be slain by a mortal hero to show how awesome the latter is. There are, however, a few such stories that stand out for featuring exceptionally psychopathic heroes slaying relatively innocent monsters for the good of humanity and personal glory (mostly the latter). This column will be devoted to a couple of those.
Of course, the prime example would be the well-known story of Medusa. Once a beautiful priestess of Athena, Medusa was cursed with a hideous visage that would turn anyone who beheld her into stone, for her crimes of...what, exactly? Well, the more obscure part of the story claims that Medusa was violated in Athena's temple by Poseidon, and Athena rather disliked the latter, so she cursed Medusa to be a monster out of misdirected spite (I suppose Athena couldn't go directly against her uncle, so Medusa was essentially a scapegoat despite the entire incident being against her will). Then Perseus fortunately came along and killed the Gorgon, giving her disembodied head to Athena as a war trophy, and that was that. Athena is known for other rather questionable acts, such as turning Arachne into a spider out of sheer jealousy because the mortal could weave better than the very goddess of weaving (Athena was the goddess of many things, weaving amongst them).
The less-known story of the Tarasque is another example. (No, the Tarasque isn't a monster invented for D&D. Neither is the roving mauler, for that matter, nor is the rust monster. Nor is the vargouille.) A stout, turtle-like, lion-headed, ox-horned, half-fish dragon on fire, with six legs, a pair of armored wings and a tail like that of either a snake or a scorpion, the Tarasque was a mixture of everything scary that the French could think of. (As an aside, France's other experiment at making a chimera ended with the Carcolh, a half-squid, half-snail creature. Essentially a land kraken, it had tentacles that stretched for miles in search of humans or livestock to devour.) It terrified the outskirts of Nerluc by lurking in the water (while being on fire!) and drowning passersby stupid enough to swim around a giant six-legged flaming turtle-scorpion-snake-fish-lion-ox-dragon. It also had a nefarious ability, probably inspired by the bonnacon -- the Tarasque could explosively void its bowels, spraying a jet of brightly shining manure that could cover an acre and burned everything it touched. Yes, the Tarasque excreted lasers. No, I'm not making this up. I wish I were.
Deciding that the people of Nerluc woul not stand idle while the monster was ravaging their lands, the local king had the creature pummeled with catapults and sent valiant knights to slay it, but to no avail -- the Tarasque proved quite durable, and Nerluc was helpless. Fortunately, Saint Martha was passing by the town and went out to defeat the Tarasque, which she handily did by making a cross with two sticks she found (oh, so it was a vampire, too). She then doused the creature with holy water to extinguish its flames (definitely a vampire) and cut off her braids to make a bridle for the now-tamed beast, which she brought back for the townsfolk to see. Of course, the townsfolk stared in awe at the meek, sheepish tamed dragon for about five seconds before bringing stones and pitchforks, pounding at the Tarasque's hide one stone at a time and eventually killing the beast (catapults weren't effective against the Tarasque, but stones were). While more than capable of killing and eating the entire town at a whim, the creature offered no resistance to the torture it went through, and Saint Martha watched in horror while the town lynched the dragon.
As a side note, I do bear a deep-seated personal grudge against the Tarasque, mostly because it effectively destroys my plans in any game in which it appears -- it's easy to see why it would put an end to many an ill-planned D&D character, and to add insult to injury it also appears in the Shin Megami Tensei series of games, where it is resistant to almost anything you may have in your arsenal (true to its myth, I suppose). Oh well, at least they're less annoying than Principalities -- the entire choir has apparently been given the sole purpose of making your life miserable and will happily chase you across entire maps.