Jackalope Myth Novels & Stories

"It means if you knew what was waiting for him in the Arctic, you’d be raising a fleet, too." _________________ The Legend of the Madredard Drakkons : "You actually believe this?" Jake’s voice carried a sharp edge, his skepticism as thick as the tension in the car. The road stretched endlessly ahead, darkness pressing in from all sides. Lila met his gaze in the rearview mirror. "I don’t believe it. I know it." Lucas let out a low breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lila, come on. The Madredard Drakkons? They’re stories. Myths. They never existed."

Jack saw Everly’s eyes widen, and she began to nod, as if that was what she’d been missing. Melting back into his chair, Jack had to think about what his parent had just disclosed. Mages were real? Why in the world hadn’t anyone told him this before? “Are there any other mythological creatures you’d like to tell us about?” he asked. “Vampires? Unicorns? Griffins? Mermaids?” “No, not that we know of,” Victor said with an impish smile. Jack shook his head. He’d dated a witch and didn’t even know it, and now, it seemed she was stirring up trouble.

She asked, encouragingly of him, "...sooo, tell me, professor Mourhollow… if the harpies all whisper about werewolves as monsters, why do I sense you don't agree?" Sheepish and shy as ever, Corvin's mouth curved in that faint and knowing way of his. "Simple, really. That's because all myths and legends are true, but so often they come from misunderstandings. You know how court mothers frighten their fledglings with tales of werewolves gone mad, tearing through villages?"

Sometimes it's joy to be ignorant. We were surrounded by people who thought we were bad because we were moon children, but we disregarded them. We were unique from birth, and their opinions couldn't make us change. Lupus Deus was at the top of the list of fictional creatures that even monsters feared to venture into their closets or under their beds. Whatever you want to call it—a haunting, a myth, or a tale. He would constantly be the subject of a story. Children were warned to watch out for him as he prowled the woods at night.

I keep my voice just as low as his, but for the first time since starting this game, I genuinely feel scared. “It is an Ahuizotl. Otherwise known as the water dog. The Aztec legend spoke of a man who lured people to their deaths and transformed into a water dog to kill them. It is a crafty creature and one that is going to be difficult. Zane tried to convince me to use it, but I didn’t think it was an innovative idea. Although it isn’t impossible to defeat, it is extremely difficult. I thought about using it for the final boss, but Zane and I both agreed to use a Lycan.”

He replied. "Werewolves aren't real. They don't exist. If they did, wouldn't everyone know about it? In this day and time nothing is kept secret from the public anymore." Rae denied. "Yes we are and we do. We keep the secret for survival. If people knew, can you imagine our lives? Myths start from a true story. Over time they get distorted. But generally somewhere sometime there was a truth to it." Jake responded. "There's more." "Of course there is. What else?" She muttered.

It had pale eyes and no fur on the head; it was a scarring sight to behold. The hollow moon pack broke into a shout of panic, but the rogue warriors and warriors from the hollow moon pack remained calm, on alert. “Moon goddess! It is Drogo!” someone shouted from the moon hollow pack. Arthur’s movement froze in place, blood rushing to his ears. He had heard the name for years, but thought it was just a myth. He assumed it was a legend wolves used to scare their pups into acting right. Drogo was rumored to be half wolf, half witch.

She gathered her mattress and hurried into her hut, as if afraid to spend one more minute outside. The hooting of an owl was uncommon in the kingdom, especially in a night as hot as this, where most people slept outside because of the heat. Its voice was rarely never heard. The people of Alaocha held its cry as a bad omen. It was said, according to the myth of the people, that an owl and a cricket does not sing together. But when they did, it was usually not a good sign. The people believes that an owl is a harbinger of death. Whenever they heard its cry, they always consult the gods, and perform series of ritual sacrifice to prevent calamity from befalling them.

Danté asked. "Not sure, nothing much is elaborated about it, so far its only talks and tales, it's originating from Cherokee folklore and a name here of an ancient Shaman named Blair" "Blair?" "Cherokee Indian" Liam said looking at him. Danté sat back thinking, they all knew of Vlad Dracul, the supposed first vampire, but it was never spoken of any first wolf, or great wolf, maybe only a werewolf will know the full story. "What if we ask a werewolf?" Danté asked "An old one?"

Or suspected it at some point. “If it has never existed, why do they appear in so many myths?” I asked and I saw some council members nodding, clearly curious. Marma waved dismissively, “it’s just some story that originated from two Lycans that loved themselves so genuinely. Whenever one felt hurt, the other one would feel as much hurt and their feelings seemed to be connected. By the time one died, the other one followed.” “Because of this, people started to think that unlike humans, we had some fated partner meant for us that the moon goddess used to gift. But in truth, there’s nothing like that. Our Lycan chooses the person it wants.”