Get ready to dive into a world where humans, bears, and gods intertwine in a tale of transformation, mythology, and imagination. This is Part 1, Chapter 1 of The K-Lore: A Worldbuilder's Guide Inspired by Korean Fantasy. I hope it sparks your creativity and leaves you eager to explore the rest of the book. Let me know what you think in the comments below!
Chapter 1. Human
In the tapestry of Korean mythology, the first and perhaps most fantastical creature is one you see every day: the human being.
In the grand menagerie of Korean mythology, packed with celestial beasts and shapeshifting wonders, you might be surprised to learn that the first truly fantastic creature is the human being! That's right, folks. Before we dive into tigers that talk and foxes with multiple tails, let's take a moment to appreciate the walking, talking miracle that is us.
Hwan Woong's Earthly Debut
Our tale begins in the heavens, where the supreme deity Hwan In reigned over all. Hwan In had a son named Hwan Woong, who spent his days peering down at the Earth below, his divine heart filled with curiosity and compassion for the mortal realm.
One day, Hwan Woong approached his father with a request that would make any parent nervous: "Dad, I want to move out. To Earth, specifically." Okay, what he actually said was more like, "Father, I wish to descend to the human world and govern the people. I want to broadly benefit humanity." But you get the idea.
Hwan In, seeing the determination in his son's eyes (and perhaps relieved he wasn't asking for a larger allowance), agreed. He surveyed the mortal lands and chose Mount Tae Baek Sahn as the site for his son's earthly reign. One can only imagine the celestial real estate agent's pitch: "Prime mountain location! Fantastic views! Perfect for a divine prince's starter kingdom!"
Hwan In, being a generous divine father, didn't send Hwan Woong off empty-handed. He bestowed upon his son three heavenly seals (one can only hope they were more impressive than a rubber stamp) and a retinue of 3,000 followers. Talk about a send-off party!
Among these celestial companions were three ministers with job titles that would make any weather channel envious. There was Poong Baek, the Minister of Wind, who could command breezes and storms—perfect for those days when you need to air out the divine laundry. Then came Woo Sah, the Minister of Rain, who held sway over the waters of the sky, essential for divine car washes and impromptu wet t-shirt contests. Finally, there was Woon Sah, the Minister of Clouds, who could weave mists and shape the heavens, ideal for creating dramatic entrances and exits.
On the big moving day, the heavens opened up (Woo Sah probably got a bit overexcited), and Hwan Woong, with his divine entourage, descended beneath a Sacred Birch Tree atop Mount Tae Baek Sahn. There, he founded Shin Si, which means the City of God.
In Shin Si, Hwan Woong set about the task of governing humans and teaching them various arts. Agriculture, medicine, and moral law were all on the divine curriculum. It was like a heavenly Hogwarts, minus the quidditch and with more emphasis on crop rotation.
But little did Hwan Woong know that his most challenging students were yet to come, and they weren't even human… yet.
A Story of a Very Patient Bear
Now, in a nearby cave lived a bear and a tiger. These weren't your average forest dwellers—they had ambitions. Big ones. They wanted to become human. It's unclear why—perhaps they were tired of the raw food diet or wanted opposable thumbs. Whatever the reason, they prayed fervently to Hwan Woong, their voices echoing through the mountain valleys.
Hwan Woong, being a benevolent deity (or perhaps just curious to see where this would go), decided to give them a shot at humanity. He appeared before the bear and tiger, his form radiating divine light—which, let's be honest, was probably a bit show-offy for creatures used to cave lighting.
"I've heard your prayers," Hwan Woong announced, his voice resonating with power and a hint of amusement. "If you want to become human, you'll need to prove your dedication and discipline. And also your tolerance for rather pungent breath."
He handed them a bundle of sacred mugwort and twenty cloves of garlic. "Your task is simple," he said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. "Eat only these foods and stay in a dark cave for one hundred days. Do this, and your wish shall be granted."
The bear and tiger exchanged glances. Here they were, apex predators of the forest, being told to subsist on what amounted to a very aromatic salad for over three months! The tiger muttered under his breath, "I don't suppose a nice venison steak is on the menu?" But seeing Hwan Woong's stern gaze, they both nodded solemnly and accepted the challenge. Little did they know, this divine diet plan was about to change the course of Korean mythology.
As the days passed, our unlikely dieters had very different experiences. The tiger, used to a life of hunting and feasting on fresh meat, found the whole ordeal unbearable. By day 20, he was pacing the cave, muttering about "rabbit food" and "divine fad diets." He finally threw in the towel (or in this case, the garlic clove) and lumbered out of the cave, presumably in search of the nearest steakhouse.
The bear, however, was made of sterner stuff. Perhaps it was her experience with long hibernations, or maybe she just really, really wanted those opposable thumbs. Whatever the reason, she stuck to the garlicky, mugwort-y diet with a determination that would put most New Year's resolutions to shame.
On the 21st day of the trial, something magical happened. In a flash of divine light that probably had more to do with Hwan Woong's flair for the dramatic than any actual necessity, the bear was transformed.
Where once stood (or, more accurately, slumped) a garlic-breathed bear, there now stood a beautiful woman. This woman, now known as Woong Neo, which literally means "bear woman" (divine naming conventions weren't big on subtlety), blinked in surprise at her new form.
Woong Neo's first thoughts upon becoming human remain a mystery, but one can imagine they went something like: "Hands! I have hands!" followed closely by, "I really need a breath mint."
A Divine-Ursine Child
But Woong Neo's transformation was just the beginning. Little did she know, she was about to play a crucial role in the birth of a nation – and possibly the origin of Korea's love affair with garlic.
Now a human, Woong Neo found herself with a new set of desires. Gone were the days of dreaming about the perfect salmon stream or the coziest hibernation cave. Instead, she yearned for something that would perplex bears everywhere: she wanted a child.
So, Woong Neo did what any former bear-turned-human would do in ancient Korea - she prayed fervently beneath the Sacred Birch Tree. Day after day, she pleaded for a child, probably wondering if there was some kind of divine customer service hotline for recently transformed animals.
Hwan Woong, ever the softie for dedication (and perhaps a bit impressed by anyone who could stomach that much garlic), was moved by Woong Neo's devotion. In a move that would make any heavenly HR rep reach for the divine rulebook, Hwan Woong decided to slap on a human suit and put a ring on it himself. One can only imagine the wedding invitations: "Please join us in celebrating the union of a sky god and a former bear. No salmon will be served at the reception."
Soon after their divine-ursine union, Woong Neo gave birth to a son. They named him Dahn Goon Wahng Gum (No, not the thug, and no, not the chewing kind). Now, if you think your name is a mouthful, consider poor Dahn Goon's. His name is packed with more meaning than a fortune cookie factory working overtime: 'Dahn Goon' means 'the high priest of the birch tree,' and 'Wahng Gum' means 'the king and lord.' Essentially, his name translates to 'the High Priest of the Birch Tree and the King and Lord,' which must have been a nightmare for his kindergarten teachers.
As Dahn Goon grew, he exhibited both the divine wisdom of his father and the earthly strength and perseverance of his mother. One can only hope he didn't inherit her former fondness for honey or salmon.
In the year 2333 BCE (a suspiciously precise date for mythological timelines), Dahn Goon established the kingdom of Jo Sun, the first Korean kingdom. To distinguish it from a later nation with the same name, people call Dahn Goon’s country Go Jo Sun, as ‘Go’ means ancient or old. He chose Pyoung Yahng as his capital, clearly preferring a riverside view to his mother's old mountain cave.
Dahn Goon ruled Jo Sun for a whopping 1,500 years. That's right, folks - 1,500 years. It seems that a diet of garlic and mugwort doesn't just turn bears into humans; it also does wonders for longevity. During his reign, Dahn Goon taught his people arts, medicine, and ethics.
Where Myths and Reality Get a Little Fuzzy
When Dahn Goon finally reached the ripe old age of 1,908 (making him officially older than some mountains), he decided it was time for a career change. He retreated to Ah Sah Dahl and became a mountain god. Talk about a retirement plan! Most people settle for a condo in Florida, but Dahn Goon went for full deification.
This mythical tale beautifully intertwines with real geography, demonstrating how Korean legends often root themselves in tangible locations. Some believe Ah Sah Dahl is located on an actual mountain called Baek Doo Sahn, which straddles the border between North Korea and China. It's the highest mountain on the Korean Peninsula and is considered sacred in Korean culture.
Others argue that Ah Sah Dahl is at this specific site on Gahng Hwa Island, a real island in the West Sea of South Korea. Chahm Sung Dahn is an altar said to have been built by Dahn Goon himself.
The myth also influences how Koreans count years. While the rest of the world was popping champagne for 2024, some Koreans were also celebrating the year 4357 by the Dahn Goon calendar. It's like having a time machine, but instead of going to the future, you just add 2333 years to the current date.
And maybe, the legacy of Woong Neo, the bear-woman-turned-mother-of-a-nation, and her divine son might live on in modern Korea in an unexpected, aromatic way: the country's love affair with garlic!
No Boundaries, Just Bearings
The myth of Dahn Goon offers us more than just a tale of a bear's extreme diet plan gone surprisingly right. It provides a profound insight into the Korean worldview, where the boundaries between the celestial, human, and animal realms are about as solid as a cloud on a windy day.
In this mythology, we see a god descend to Earth and take human form (it’s a hands-on management style), an animal transform into a woman (beating modern plastic surgery by a few millennia), and their offspring become both a king and eventually a mountain god (a career trajectory your school guidance counselor probably never mentioned).
This perspective doesn't draw clear lines between different forms of existence. Instead, it presents a universe where all beings—divine, human, and animal—are part of a continuous, interrelated spectrum. It's like a cosmic family reunion where everyone's invited, and nobody's quite sure who's related to whom.
So, the next time someone tells you humans aren't fantastical creatures, just remind them: according to Korean mythology, we're the descendants of a bear who went on a garlic cleanse and married a sky god, and their son retired to become a mountain god… somewhere. Just your average family history, really.
Worldbuilder’s Workshop
Master's Blueprint
In the world of Dahn Goon, boundaries are not walls but doorways. Gods descend to earth bringing heavenly bureaucracy, animals transform into humans through determination and herbs, and humans ascend to become mountain spirits. This isn't chaos - it's a different kind of order, one where the cosmos operates like a grand ecosystem rather than a hierarchy. Here, divine, human, and animal aren't separate categories but points on a continuous spectrum, each capable of flowing into the other under the right circumstances.
This fluid cosmology opens up thrilling possibilities for world builders. Instead of creating rigid realms separated by insurmountable barriers, consider crafting a universe where boundaries are permeable, where transformation is possible (though never easy), and where being human - or divine, or animal - is more about what you become than what you are. Your world's magic, politics, and daily life can all flow from this fundamental understanding: that existence itself is a river, not a series of separate pools.
Builder's Toolkit
Now, let's raid the Dahn Goon myth for some worldbuilding treasures! These aren't homework assignments from the Celestial Academy - they're creative snacks to nibble on. Take what tempts you, skip what doesn't, and let your imagination run wild.
1. Divine Descent
Create a celestial being who wants to leave paradise for the mortal realm. What do they pack for the journey? What heavenly comforts will they miss most? What mundane things fascinate them? Bonus points if their divine luggage creates unexpected problems!
2. Sacred Trials
Design a transformation trial, but make it wonderfully specific! What must they eat or avoid? Where must they stay? For exactly how long? What's the most absurd rule they must follow? Remember: sometimes the oddest requirements make the best stories.
3. Heavenly Bureaucracy
Design a celestial government structure with all its glorious red tape. Who handles sunset complaints? What's the waiting time for miracle requests? Is there a Department of Destiny Delays? Have fun with divine paperwork!
4. Sacred Foods
Create a list of foods with mythological significance. What happens if you eat them?Who's allergic to them? Do they have expiration dates? What's their cosmic nutritional value? Think "divine dining guide" meets "mystical cookbook."
5. Legacy Creation
Develop three modern customs that would absolutely baffle the ancient founders. A ceremony that's completely lost its original meaning, a saying that's hilariously misinterpreted, or a practice that would make ancestors facepalm. Sometimes the best world-building comes from how things go wonderfully wrong!