By the Gods!

Enoch and the Watchers: Part One

Christian/Jewish scripture rarely maintains a consensus, and when it comes to angels, everything’s up in the air. When we talk about the Watchers, we’re delving deep into Christian and Jewish apocrypha— specifically, the Book of Enoch. The writings attributed to Enoch were seen as real scripture by many Christian authorities writing in the first and second centuries CE, and may have been similarly important to Jewish groups about this time. However, the Book of Enoch was removed from canon in the years to come, except for in the Ethiopian Christian Church, where it remained a fundamental part of scripture. 

Now, Enoch was the great-grandfather of Noah, and was elected by God as his all-around favourite guy, and was essentially named “greatest dude on the planet.” He was plucked from the mortal world, and raised to the level of Metatron: in some canon, he is seen as the voice of god, and was “promoted” to angelhood. He was also seen as the inventor of reading and writing, and was in charge of doing all of the big guy’s dirty work on Earth— like dealing with those pesky rebel Watchers.

The Watchers, y’see, were a group of angels who had been charged with watching over humanity. They just watched a little too closely, if you catch my meaning; they became deeply enamoured with the lives of men, and with the lovely wiggle ‘n shake of human women. They gave up their duties, descended down to Earth, and began to procreate with undoubtedly surprised people. The result of this interesting and as yet unseen union were the Nephilim— in the book of Genesis, they were described as “warriors of renown,” which you’d expect from Angelic stock. In the Book of Enoch, however, they were giants that would bring ruin on the world, and were the cause of everything bad. 

Lamia

Lamia is another character from Greek mythology that ran into trouble when she met up with Zeus. A queen of Libya and daughter of Poseidon, her affair with the king of the gods put her on Hera’s radar as another competitor for Zeus’ affection. Not being the forgiving sort, Hera slew Lamia’s children, driving her insane with grief. Hera also transformed Lamia into a baby-eating monster with the lower body of a snake, or, depending on the source, a half-woman half-cat with snake scales.

Lamia was unable to get the image of her slaughtered children out of her mind, which meant that the sight of other children unbearable for her. Clearly, eating them was the only rational choice. At this point Zeus felt he was maybe at least partially responsible for Lamia’s misfortune, and decided to intervene: instead of restoring her children, her human form, or her sanity, Zeus decided to grant Lamia the ability to remove her own eyes. What a champ of an ex-boyfriend.

Some stories go on to say that Lamia had more crazy monster children afterwards, all sporting the same appearance: top half of a beautiful woman, lower half of a snake. These nightmarish land-mermaids are known as lamias with a lowercase “L” and appear in every good fantasy universe to this day. 

Hades

We’ve only mentioned this guy in passing up until now, so let’s give him the recognition he deserves. Hades, the Greek god of the Underworld, was/is a pretty big deal. He was the son of the Titans Cronus and Rhea, and as such was the brother of Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter and Hestia. After Cronus was overthrown by the efforts of the younger generation of gods, the universe was divided between the three high-ranking brothers of the winning team: Zeus took the sky, Poseidon got the seas, and Hades got the Underworld. One of the only bright spots in the dark god’s life was his lovely wife Persephone, with whom he had a bit of a roller coaster relationship.

Dubbed by Homer as the “host of many,” (since the idea was that everyone would end up gracing his hall at one point or another) he was also known as Polydegmon, which meant “receiver of many guests.” It was also usual, among the ancient Greeks, to call Hades by the title of Pluto, which meant “giver of wealth;” many sacrifices were thrown his way, as it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to please the dude that would be the caretaker of your soul for eternity. 

Chances are you’ve seen Hades in some form of popular culture or another. There’s a fascination with the afterlife that persists from ancient days to now, though the tone has certainly varied by date and region. Neither the Greeks nor the Romans ever thought of Hades as an evil force like Satan in Christianity. He was certainly a grim deity, but malicious he was not. The Underworld was seen as very physical place––just a remote one. Deep under the earth, it could only be reached by a subterranean river known as Styx. Beyond that, the entrance was guarded by the three-headed dog Cerberus, who ensured no soul escaped. Most of the time Cerberus was pretty good at his job… most of the time. 

Amphisbaena

The Amphisbaena has its origins in Greek mythology and is a double-headed ant-eating serpent. It has the legs of a chicken and the wings of an eagle. Amphisbaena closely translates to “goes both ways.“ This is the part where we put in a joke. I dunno, maybe one about Lady GaGa or something. Anyway.

The Amphisbaena has one lucky head and one very unlucky head, as they are both on opposite ends. This could lead to problems; say you’re a doctor: which head do you offer the chew tablet and where do you stick the suppository? The Amphisbaena has two sets of glowing yellow eyes and green scales, just as its “mother,” Medusa, had. 

Amphisbaena spawned from Medusa’s blood drippings as Perseus flew over the Libyan desert, carrying the gorgon’s head. Lil’ Amphisbaena grew and flourished, both heads dining on scrumptious ants and the occasional corpse. 

This dual-headed phenomenon is particularly common in snakes and many believed that these creatures had aphrodisiac or healing powers. Pregnant women would pay a pretty penny for a live amphisbaena to wear around their necks to ensure a safe pregnancy, though one would think a snake with two heads would be twice as dangerous/ominous as a snake with one head, especially if when you’re wearing it ‘round the jugular. So remember: if you’re pregnant and you see a snake with two noggins, it’s your lucky day! You’ve just found yourself a new scarf!

Sleipnir

In Germanic mythology, Sleipnir was the greatest of all the horses of the Aesir. He was Odin’s horse, though was used by Hermod to travel to Helheim in an attempt to save Baldr. An easy way to remember Sleipnir: he has eight legs. Spider-horse. He’s incredibly fast, and did many deeds of renown throughout his careers as steed to the All-Father, but his origins are especially interesting.

Early in the reign of the Aesir, just as they had finished building Valhalla, the gods were still concerned about the encroaching threat of the frost giants. A builder appeared, and offered to build for the Aesir a mighty fortress, but in exchange he demanded Freyja as his own, as well as the sun and moon. The Aesir didn’t think this was a fair trade, but Loki convinced them to give their assent, and they turned it into a wager: if the builder could finish building the whole fort in three seasons, without the help of any other man, he could have what he asked. He accepted, and was permitted the use of his stallion to help carry materials.

Three seasons in, the builder had finished the whole damn thing, but for the entrance. The stallion is what had made it possible, carrying the bulk of the materials every day. With one day left to finish,  it looked like the gods were going to have to pay up. They went to Loki and said “fix this or you’re dead.” Loki, always responsive to threats, turned himself into a lady-horse and strutted his stuff in front of the stallion, who promptly ditched the materials he was carrying for the builder and sprinted off after girl-horse-Loki for some R-rated horse-on-horse action. The builder spent all night chasing them, and didn’t finish the fort, and the Aesir won the bet. Poor builder. At this point, the Aesir also realized that the builder was a frost giant, and Thor smashed his head open. Poor builder.

The gods have done some weird stuff, and maybe they took a moment to reflect on how strange they all were when, a few months later, they watched Loki give birth to a horse; the fruits of his weird plan to impede the builder’s progress came in the form of Sleipnir, steed of the Aesir. 

Gancanagh

Gancanagh, or “love talker,” comes from Irish mythology and is a male fairy-heartthrob that is literally irresistible to women. The attraction and lust he inspires is so intense that some women die from withdrawal after they’ve had a taste of his bad touch. He is said to be the last of his kind, and he roams the forests alone, assuming he can find the time between all the passionate affairs.

You can normally spot Gancanagh by his smell, but if you are of the male persuasion you might find a debonair little man with a clay pipe and a farmer’s hat. He has no shadow and no animal makes a sound when Gancanagh is around. His dark, baritone voice is all the sound his forest and lady-friends need. 

This lil’ fairy fellow has what every man wants: pungently addictive pheromones secreting out of his pores. Essentially, we’re talking about the Tom Selleck of the fairy world. Gancanagh’s scent lures many a maiden towards his forested-digs, so what else can he do? Other than them, I mean. 

After fornication, Ganacangh disappears into the mist, leaving his new maiden to pine the night away. These women are left in incredible states of depression, and often die shortly after from withdrawal, over-pining, or fighting over Gancanagh’s love. 

Bunyip

For something with an adorable name, this creature from Aboriginal mythology is a terrifying specimen. The Bunyip has appeared in the lore of Aboriginal tribes all over Australia, but the origin of the word “Bunyip” has been traced back to the Wergaia people of the South-Eastern region of the continent.

The Bunyip exists in this mythology somewhere between being a water sprit and a terrifying river-monster. The word itself is usually translated to “devil” or “evil spirit.” The descriptions of the Bunyip’s physical form can vary, though most depictions of the beast show it as an enormous dog-hippopotamus with flippers. Some have described it as a giant, malevolent starfish, and some as a walrus-horse. One thing all the descriptions have in common: it’s big. That, and we’re pretty sure it wants to kill you.

The origins of the Bunyip lie with the aboriginal cultures, though the popularization and drive to hammer down a universally accepted physical description comes from European colonists. When they arrived on the continent, there was a great deal of fauna they didn’t recognize, and some descriptions of the Bunyip sync up with animals we’re now familiar with. One popular belief over the myth of the Bunyip is that it was actually an exaggerated story told about large seals that made their way up major rivers to more inland locations, whose barking and big eyes then scared the bajeezus out of whoever was within earshot of the river. Just in case the Bunyip’s actually a dog-hippo-demon, though, maybe stay out of the water when you go to Australia to “find yourself.”

The Hippocamp

The Hippocamp originated in Greek mythology and is a horse-fish hybrid, or “seahorse,” if you will. Hippocampi pull Poseidon’s chariot over the seven seas.

Because Poseidon is the god of the sea and also the god of horses, a hybrid of a fish and horse seems to be the perfect thing to lead his chariot over the waves or to chill with his Equine friends. Hippocampi have the head and front legs of a horse, with the scales and lower torso of a large fish.

Different stories suggest that a Hippocamp can be found in fresh and salt water. This may sound silly nowadays, but back then the greeks believed that the ocean refreshed the land, oozing back into lakes, rivers and gullies, unlike our modern day hydrologic cycle.