Recently my focus has been on revisions for two upcoming publications, Mysteries in Elanysia and Echoes of the Void. For the first one, I have some commissioned art now and I AM EXCITED! This has put work on my Polynesian game Journey of the Wayfinder on the back-burner.

For my next one-shot, Song of the Sirens, I went deep on original lore for the main enemy. The lore came from trying to answer a simple question, “If the PCs wanted to strike a bargain with the Sirens what would they need to provide?” The answer came quickly, a new song from the gods. This led me to ask, why?

That why became a myth. It’s inspiration is as much Greek tragedy as it is Polynesian. After all I’ve been reading Greek myths since I was a kid. Hopefully I’ve managed to capture a bit of the spirit of Polynesian Myths as well. The legend follows below:

              There was once a beautiful Arioi named Moatangi, whose performances were a mesmerizing array of dancing on water and singing. She’d climb the mast of her canoe, belt songs swinging from the ropes, dive into the sea, and swim back continuing her song until she emerged from the water to finish her ballad as she walked ashore. Over time these acts grew in grandeur. Sometimes she involved dozens of vessels in the act. Lower ranked Arioi would swim in unison, and a chorus of singers, dancers, and musicians accompanied her.

              Her performances eventually attracted the attention of Tavahanu, voice of the wind. At first, he listened silently. The stillness of the wind while he listened provided a quiet backdrop which emphasized the grandeur of her performance. Then, Tavahanu began to carry Moatangi’s songs farther, emboldening the fortes and muting the pianos. Over time, she replaced some of her accompaniment with the sounds of nature. Learning, if only subconsciously, how to leverage the songs of nature. As she sang, the wind would carry the melody of birds, the song of palm fronds swaying in the winds, or the violent echoes of the wind wailing through hollow passages.

              One night as she slept under the stars on the beach, she awoke to a whistling sound leading inland. Thinking she heard the echo of her name on the wind, she followed the sound. Eventually, she found its source to be a cave and heard the most beautiful array of nature’s melodies ever.

The cave was the perfect instrument for the wind. A thousand hollowed out caverns of different shapes and sizes allowing the wind to create a symphony of noises, replicating any sound imaginable. Tavahanu filled the cave with music and Moatangi began to sing a melody to the tune. Her song was a love ballad, like the world had never heard. Starting with the eternal embrace of Rangi and Papa, telling of the one-sided love of Hina and Tuna, the near tragedy of Hinemoa and Tūtānekai, and continuing with all the love stories of the gods.

              Throughout the night islanders were stirred awake by the music. They were mesmerized by the sounds and found themselves compelled to move towards the music. Enraptured by the music everyone who came stayed the entire night. Moatangi never looked outside the cave. She was overcome by the feelings she attempted to express through the ballad she sang. Having finally found the melody within her soul.

              As the sun began to rise the Arioi’s voice broke. Her music stopped, and finally she whispered. “What are you to make such beautiful songs, I have seen nothing all night as I accompanied you? My voice but a back-up singer to the melody of love itself.”

              The wind replied, “Moatangi, you are mistaken. The tune comes from your heart, I but listen and play it so you can sing. I am Tavahanu, voice of the wind. Stay here with me for nowhere else can I come close to echoing the beauty of your voice. No where else can I make all sounds that can be heard by man. Long I have tried to lead you here.”

               She paused for a long moment, puzzled by the statement. For nothing has freedom like the wind. Blowing over land and sea, touching both the heavens and the earth. Finally, she replied, “Anywhere can the wind move, why can you not make these sounds elsewhere?”

              Tavahanu explained that although he can move anywhere the wind can, the wind has no voice of its own. The wind plays nature like the Arioi play their instruments. Tavahanu replied, “The whole world is my instrument, but nowhere else can I play such a symphony in one place.”

              As the two conversed, the magic of the music faded. The compulsion over those watching faded, and the crowd began to murmur and ask questions. Only then did Moatangi notice the audience. For her also the compulsion began to fade, and her own wits began to return. Realizing how long she sang, wondering how long people had listened, she considered what singing with Tavahanu could achieve. She glanced down at her painted leg, a symbol of her reaching the pinnacle of status among the Arioi. Realizing singing with a god, could make the black leg seem pale in comparison.

              She considered the winds response and finally responded herself. “Could you not use me?”        

              In this part, the legends vary. Some say the wind filled her lungs. Others say she would wear ostentatious outfits of shells so the wind could make a symphony of sounds. Most say the wind made love to her, using her to make the sounds. Regardless of the truth, the pair traveled together from island to island putting on legendary performances. Captivating all who listened, even playing for and captivating the gods. The stories also agree that eventually, she carried a child.

              Unfortunately, while Tavahanu could father a child. He could not be a child’s father. For a while, the performances stopped as the Arioi cared for the newborn. But the wind kept blowing. Sometimes visiting, but being carried away for longer and longer periods of time.

However, Moatangi had learned many of the wind’s secrets while they had sung together. One day when Moatangi needed help, she sung a song into the wind like that day at the cave. She used its tune to compel someone’s attention, and continued to refine it until she compelled them to help her.

               Moatangi continued to master this skill, compelling others to do her bidding. It started with small favors. Preparing food, launching her boat, caring for her child while she swam. But overtime she would push the limits. She began to compel people to follow her, to rule their minds completely. Sometimes the wind returned, but most times it simply passed through.

              Still during this time her fame and renown had grown so much that gods commonly frequented her performances. But she longed for Tavahanu. She began to test her compulsion on the gods themselves. Small things at first, hoping to compel the wind to stay. With the wind, while she could keep its attention, it would never stop blowing for long. Even though Tavahanu loved her he simply couldn’t stay.

              One day, she was performing on an island far in the west. At the source of Mātāhiti Apatoa (the east wind). She realized if she could capture this wind, she could keep Tavahanu with her. She put on her most brilliant performance yet, and captivated Tahwhiri’s children. Eventually,  Tahwhiri god of storms and winds, realized his children were missing. Asking the other gods he learned of Moatangi. He requested the help of Tangoroa, knowing he needed to send Moatangi into the depths that he and his offspring could not reach.

              Together, Tahwhiri and Tangaora approached the island in a hurricane of destruction. Tahwhiri appeared before Moatangi and said, “Never shall you set shore upon the lands of man again, forever shall you be bound to sea. Where Tavahanu cannot go.”

              Then Moatangi flopped over, splashing into the water. She attempted to stand but found her legs had merged, and her bottom half looked like a fish. Confused and frightened she flopped about in the water. Her appearance had become deformed and hidous. After that, whenever she found a new audience, they ran from her in fear. The only way she could keep an audience, was to compel them.  

So, whenever she sees men, she sings her song and drags them into the sea with her. All the while craving the attention of Tavahanu, who could not come with her. She swam from island to island, looking for caves, hoping to find Tavahanu once again.

              With Moatangi beneath the sea, Tavahanu howls across the sea singing a sad song of mourning searching for her. To this day, he still does. Moatangi’s children can often be found, singing their compelling songs and luring men to the depths with them. Usually near caves, where they find a strange appeal to the howling of the wind through the caverns.

              This is how Sirens came to be, and why they sing their songs to lure men to their deaths. Creating a captive audience in remembrance of audiences they never knew.