Tales from North Carolinian Myth

Question: This has probably been asked before, but will you be putting the Elohim and Bogovi pantheons up on your pantheon page with the others since you have already done it with the Anunna? If so, then when?

Once upon a time, there was a little scholar named Anne. Anne loved stories and spent many hours reading them, learning about faraway lands and long-ago people, and soon one day she began to write stories herself. There was not much food in her little cell, nor water, but she loved the stories and she wrote more and more of them, hoping that one day someone else could read them and love them as much as she.

But Anne's cell was in the depths of a deep, dark, dank cave, and in the cave lived a dragon named John, a foul-tempered and greedy creature that hoarded stories beneath its scaly belly, keeping them all for itself. Though Anne pleaded with the dragon to release some of the stories so that they could be shared by the nearby townsfolk, he refused.

"Why should I go to all the trouble of making some kind of special story- and word-sharing for the townsfolk?" he asked, smoke curling from his toothy muzzle. "I already let you put them in PDF anyway. They can just use that."

"Oh, but if we made it easy to see them, then they could use them easily, just like all the other ones!" Anne said pleadingly, cajoling the dragon from the safety of her little cell. "They love the ones you have already let them read, you know. They tell me how wonderful you are all the time!" She showed him the well-loved letters, dogeared on her computer screen from being read many times, but he was unimpressed.

The dragon snorted in disgust. "Of course they think they're wonderful. They are," he said, preening his steely scales. "But I don't like it when things look cluttered. Besides, I'm not using those pantheons right now, and I don't want all my little dragonets to get confused about what is and is not allowed. Besides, who's the chief ST dragon here, you or me?"

And Anne tried to argue further, but the dragon blew a great gout of flame and she retreated into her cell to look sadly at the stories of the Canaanite and Slavic gods. "It's okay," she told them when they turned sad eyes on her, and hugged them to her chest. "Someday you'll get fancy graphics, too. We'll just all have to be patient."

So she stayed in her little cell, and the dragon stayed curled around it napping, and if they have not died, they live there still.