The Great Serpent Fogohome
Indiamara speaks:
Back before the
homem branco came to our lands, we had power.
Poder antigo, they would call it now, the ancient power that kept our people safe from the beasts that roamed our forest. And beasts there were. Horned
diabos, great monstrous beings of the abyss. There were many. In this day we have the wild cats that ravage our children, and eat our animals.
Today, I speak of one. A wily
serpente, the mboitatá. There were many of his kind, but only one speaks down through the echos of our ancestors to us today.
Fogohome, the greatest of the fire serpents dwelling amongst us.
Fogohome was a large serpentine creature, as large as five of our men lying on their bellies. His head alone was as large as myself. The terror, they say, was his great green eyes. As large as a newborn babe each, a great, glowing
verde. Piercing the dark, the light, and, it was said; a man's very soul.
His home was the great river to the north, the River Viver. You can see, if you look, the scorches that his flame-ringed body left on the stones there, even today. It wreathed his body in a spectacular nimbus, and the glow above the river was a beautiful sight that many cherished. Many, who died with that as their final sight.
Travellers, our hunters, even the smallest child wandering from the village were its prey. He would even seek the smallest
diabo for his meal. Fogohome, with his sibliant whisper, would offer guidance through the river, and the marsh on the other side. Or to show a lost hunter his way home again. Being a beautiful, glowing thing, all agreed. Certainly nothing so lovely could be so evil.
Beaneath the water, however, the wicked serpent's true mind worked a plan. One that almost never failed him. Many of our villagers, and others from the other great tribes were found, their eyes removed from their heads.
For that is where his power comes. The heat of our souls, drawn out through our eyes!
Many, many, many were drawn to him, and the beast Fogohome grew greater and larger in size and power. Even a few warrior bands tried to slay him, but were burned by his fires, and their eyes consumed. Until one.
Our greatest warrior, Fabión. He had killed many of the wild cats, and was said even to have killed
diabos. He had a beautiful sister, Magheriña, with eyes like starlight. She was my great-great-great grandmother, the Priestess of our village. Her soul burned brightly with the power of the gods, and her eyes glowed even as the wicked mboitatá's did. Her brother realized this, and found a way to bring the wily one down.
Gathering as many men as he could, he turned Priestess Magheriña out into the forest, with nothing other than her gown, and a bit of bread. She was furious, thinking her brother had deserted her, feeding her to the monsters with callous disregard. Fogohome sensed her rage, felt her fire, and was drawn to her like a leech.
Never was he silkier. All charm, all oily help and condesension. Never would he eat her eyes! He would not consider such a thing! Home is where he intended to place such a lovely girl! So enraptured was he with her, that he failed to see, even with his great eyes; the band of warriors lurking not far from the precious Magheriña.
Gratefully, she fell into his trap, and followed him deeper into the myriad jungle. At the moment his coils started to wrap her close, so that he could suck her eyes from her head, and the fire from her soul, Fabión and his warriors struck.
The battle was great, and it seemd that Fogohome would never be defeated, even by such a legendary warrior. But nobody accounted for Magheriña. Betrayed, abused, and terrified, she flew into a rage as no man had ever seen. And no one realized. Ignored, her brother told her to hide and wait for him to fetch her.
In her immense anger, and betrayal, she made the most drastic move. That even today our village blesses her for. She drove a knife straight into the beast's eyes.
With his eyes destroyed, he had no outlet for his fire. The flame slowly withered, and his power diminished. Fabión realized his moment of glory had come, and quickly killed the massive
serpente. He was lauded as hero, the greatest power to ever walk the jungle floors.
Magheriña was nearly forgotten. But would not be scorned again. She was a priestess, and the gods were on her side! Even as Fogohome took his dying breath, she sent her brother to join the mboitatá in death.
Even now, the great statue of our dead hero and Fogohome, his mishappen conquest, sits in our temple. Reminding us that nothing,
nothing, is invincible! And that
serpentes are the greatest danger of them all. For they are favored by the gods, and by our priestesses....
And with that, she smiled, so slowly, at Guelherme. A smile of rememberance, reminder, and even slightly, repentance.
Creation of a Monster - Fogohome's Boast
Indiamara speaks:
Now, my
crianças, you know the glorious tale of Magheriña, and how a man, or monster, must never scorn a priestess of the gods.
But my tales are not entirely about her. No. They are about the
serpente, Fogohome. For he was not always as they saw him. He was once, one of us. A great warrior and traveller, boasting that no one could best him. His victories in combat, and with the
diabos. With his barrel chest, broad shoulders, and the strongest arms any had seen, he was indeed a force to be reckoned with.
The only thing that
he did not reckon with, was the temper of the gods.
Gods are fickle creatures. Benevolent, wise, and just. But insults to their pride and glory are taken in the harshest forms imaginable. Even Fogohome's own patron god, Guerreiro, god of war and the hunt, grew annoyed with his boasts. Banding together for once in their great existances, the gods planned a way to prove once and for all if Fogohome was truly the greatest warrior who had ever lived. Or if he was a proud impostor.
Taking the form of a normal man, Guerreiro came to our village, a proud, boastful man. As proud as the man they were seeking. He told of how he had killed hundreds of
diabos, and single-handedly taken over a large northern tribe. How the women threw themselves at his feet, begging to be his bride. Or his mistress.
This angered Fogohome greatly! How dare some other come to his village, his lands, and try to steal his glory. Rising to the unseen challenge, he strode into the square, voice ringing with contempt, and anger. For hours they stood there, and with each deed the one named, the other named one grander. Lies and treachery fell from the lips, but the treachery of a god is never safe. He will always carry out what he intends.
Throwing down his weapons, the god of warriors challenged Fogohome. There were, in fact, two large
diabos who were plaguing the river to the south. The river Viver. Both would go and try to conquer the great beasts with a weapon of their choice. Fogohome, of course, chose the sharp daggers he was fond of. The allowed for a sneak attack, and little damage to his precious body.
The god chose only a few sticks of fire, and one plain knife. He truly needed no weapons to do away with the monster, but it was not his intent to kill the other.
Striding proudly away from the north of the village, and his opponent to the south, the god slipped from the human form he had taken, and flew on the winds to the
diabo that was going to be Fogohome's trial. It was never intended to be such a fair fight, as Guerreiro knew that this man was only interested in the glory, and would lie about any deed to make himself grander. Killing the monster, the god became one of his own, wreathed in flame, with knife-like claws. Roaring with delight, and rage, he rushed the hunter with all of his might.
To his greatest surprise, the hunter did not even try to defend himself, or attack at a weak point. He simply turned and ran! The great hunter was no great warrior at all, and instead
lied about his conquests. Falling to his knees in front of the
diabogod, he implored that if he would just leave the village, Fogohome would send him ten ripe women to feast upon.
Enraged at this behavior, and the callous nature of his lies, Guerreiro vanished the demon, and stood in his full glory as a deity. "Your lies, and your belligerent, callous treatment of the great women that made you, have brought you to this place and time for our judgement." Now he was more terrified than ever, and made a million promises, a million entreaties. His voice was honeyed with compliments, and with promieses of great sacrifices in his honor, if only he would please go.
Unfortunately for him, the god's mind was made. "If you wish to lie and cheat like the lowest of serpents, then you shall spend your days as one! You shall depend on the passion of others, the passion and righteousness that you so lack, to survive. To make sure that you never again may commit such a crime against us, we are forever deaf to your prayers, and your pleas. Perhaps one day some
true hunter may release your cowering soul, but you shall live...until then."
And with those words, a great change came upon the weak-spirited Fogohome. His eyes enlarged, his arms and legs fused into a great body, and his screams turned into the hiss of the serpent, sibilant, and nearly silent. Never again would he be able to scream, until the day his soul was released from his body. And never would he tell the truth, for lies were so seated in his heart, and in his soul, that he could not comprehend that which was so foreign to him. Until the day his soul was freed, to start anew.
Resources:;
Wikipedia - Boitata
Boi-tatá [Boytata] is a monster from Brazilian folklore. Regionally it is called Boitatá, Baitatá, Batatá, Bitatá, Batatão, Biatatá, M'boiguaçu, Mboitatá and Mbaê-Tata, this last variation being the etymological form meaning fiery serpent in the Tupi language.
It has great fiery eyes, by day almost blind, but by night, it sees everything. According to legend, Boi-tatá was a big serpent which survived a great deluge. To save itself, it entered a cave and rested in the darkness for centuries, so that its eyes grew. After it left the cave, it went through the fields looking for the bodies of animals to eat, but also sometimes attacked people and animals. Mboitata is the same phenomenon as the Will o' the wisp.
Everything2.org - Boitata
Boitatá A snake of fire that lives deep in the rivers, only occasionally appearing to attack a prey - except that Boitatá only eats the eyes. It is said that Boitatá is bright because of the fire in the eyes of its victims. Some say it is a tortured human soul, which was put in its shameful condition after trying to outsmart the devil. Sometimes Boitatá is an ox, with fire coming out of its nose.
