J.D. Castle

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Black Dragon Tavern

Your place for education and entertainment. Join us as we share tales and history from ancient pagan cultures such as the Celts, Gaels, and Norse peoples as well as world mythology. It is a place to relive beloved stories and to learn brand new ones not easily found, and remember… here, there be dragons.

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You think an old Irish wake was just drinking? Some of the old wakes included games where even the corpse got dragged onto the dance floor. Death in rural Ireland wasn’t always a quiet, solemn affair. It was loud. The National Folklore Collection holds dozens of records of cluichí tórraimh—wake games. And these weren't polite parlor games. They involved physical pranks, violent slapping contests, belts, ropes, and mock confessions. It was absolute, intentional chaos. And sometimes, the guest of honor joined in. Mourners would place a clay pipe in the deceased’s mouth, or deal a hand of cards right into their stiff fingers. Folklore even records people lifting the dead person up for one last, wild spin around the room. The Church increasingly tried to stamp out the wilder games and customs. It sounds horrific to modern ears. But when death comes for someone you love, sitting quietly in the dark isn't always the answer. Sometimes, you throw a party so loud and so violent that death itself feels unwelcome in your house. Deal me in, Adventurers. #History #IrishFolklore #WeirdHistory #DarkHistory #TavernTales
Why Old Irish Wakes Dances With Dead 🎴🎻
If your cows suddenly stopped giving milk in old Ireland, you didn't blame the cows. You blamed your neighbor. According to Irish dairy folklore, a witch could steal your "butter luck" by taking the shape of a hare. The National Folklore Collection is full of dairy pishogues involving suspicious hares among the cattle—sometimes even sucking milk directly from the cows. In Donegal, one farmer couldn't stop a hare from draining his livestock. Because local belief said an enchanted creature couldn't be killed with ordinary lead shot, a marksman loaded a silver sixpence into his musket and fired. He broke the hare's leg, but it escaped into the dark. The next night, he visited a suspected neighboring woman's cottage—and found her laid up in bed with a broken leg of her own. They say good fences make good neighbors, Adventurers. But maybe keep a little silver in your pocket. #IrishFolklore #Witches #Mythology #WeirdHistory #TavernTales
Why Irish Farmers Shot Hares With Silver 🐇🪙
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Storytime: The Dragon & The George Ep 6 w/ Castle
How many folk do you suppose died of gutter whiskey in 1875? The answer is a hell of a lot more than you might guess. Thirteen. And here's the strange part: not one person died from the flames or the smoke. Every human death came from drinking the whiskey running through the streets. It began around Malone’s malt house, where roughly five thousand casks of spirits were stored. As the flames reached the wooden casks, they burst open. Within minutes, a river of burning alcohol cascaded down the cobblestones. Instead of fleeing, locals rushed into the street with jugs, caps, and even their own boots to scoop up the hot, cask-strength liquor. Water only spread the burning alcohol, so the fire brigade resorted to dumping cartloads of horse manure to dam the flow. It worked. But in the days that followed, thirteen people died from acute alcohol poisoning. We're all sensible about danger until something we desperately want starts flowing past our feet for free. Let that one pass, Adventurers. #History #Dublin #IrishHistory #WeirdHistory #TavernTales
The Deadly 1875 Dublin Whiskey Fire 🥃🔥
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Storytime: Eldest Ep 1 w/ Castle
If you were starving to death, how much of your final energy would you spend building a road to nowhere? During the Great Famine in the 1840s, the answer was whatever you had left. Irish labourers were paid to break rocks instead of plant crops. The British government decided that relief should come through paid public works. But paralyzed by rigid ideology and terrified of creating "dependency," officials sent thousands of starving men onto road works—some of remarkably little practical value—instead of focusing relief on agricultural work that might actually produce food. Even worse, wages were tied to piece-work. As the men grew weaker from malnutrition, they earned less—falling completely behind the soaring price of bread. It wasn't forced labor by law; it was forced labor by starvation. Hard work is a virtue, but work becomes cruelty when the task matters more to the system than the people doing it. Mind the lore, Adventurers. #IrishHistory #GreatFamine #DarkHistory #WeirdHistory #TavernTales
Why Ireland Built "Roads to Nowhere" During the Famine 🪨🇮🇪
The Irish have a phrase for that friend who earns more than you, but still insists he's entirely broke. It’s called an béal bocht—putting on the poor mouth. It means presenting yourself as worse off than you really are. You do it to gain a little sympathy, to dodge a creditor, or just to make absolutely certain that nobody asks you to buy the next round. Flann O'Brien famously turned it into a brilliant literary satire, but it’s an old cultural reflex. If folks think you're doing too well, they might expect something from you. So, you complain. The crops are ruined. The roof leaks. The price of oats is a downright scandal. It’s a survival tactic for your wallet. Sometimes it's just better to look like you have absolutely nothing. Now... who's buying, Adventurers? #IrishCulture #Language #History #Folklore #TavernTales
Why the Irish "Put on the Poor Mouth" 🍻💰
If Ireland and Scotland went to war, who would win? After weeks of battle, we finally have the answer. With a final score of 102 to 89, Ireland's Crom Cruach and the golden dragon have narrowly defeated Scotland. Ireland wins the Stories World Cup. Scotland fought hard, closing the gap right at the very end. So, as a consolation prize, let's look at the traditional story of how Scotland's great sea serpent died. According to legend, the great Stoor Worm was slain by a boy named Assipattle—an irresponsible slacker who literally spent his days sitting in the ashes by the fire doing absolutely nothing. Supposedly, this lazy kid steals a boat, gets himself swallowed by the monster, finds its liver from the inside, and sets it ablaze with a chunk of smoldering peat. The beast's teeth fall out to become the Orkney and Shetland islands, and its body becomes Iceland. Now, I wasn't there... but a world-eating sea dragon taken out by a kid with a dirty lump of coal? That sounds an awful lot like anti-dragon propaganda to me. Thank you to everyone who voted and joined the battle. The Tavern is alive because of you. We'll see you all for the Stories Winter Olympics. #StoriesWorldCup #IrishFolklore #ScottishFolklore #StoorWorm #TavernTales
Ireland Wins! The Stories World Cup Finale 🐉🏆
The elves of Middle-earth don't die of old age. But what does happen to them is arguably so much sadder than simply dying. We picture perfect fantasy immortality, but Tolkien's deeper mythology is profoundly melancholy. The Elves are bound to Arda, and as the ages pass, an Elf's immortal spirit slowly consumes their physical body. They don’t grow old; instead, they become less and less there, eventually fading from mortal sight into what Tolkien called "Lingerers"—still present, but almost entirely invisible to mortal eyes. Going west to Valinor offers refuge from that fading, but those who linger in Middle-earth must accept that the world will wear them away. Men eventually die and leave the world. The Elves' tragedy is stranger. Tolkien’s elves don't simply grow old. Eventually, they become the past. #Tolkien #LordOfTheRings #MiddleEarth #FantasyLore #TavernTales
The Tragic Fate of Tolkien's Elves That Nobody Talks About 🍃
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