The following tales are from a book of Janux oral folklore transcribed and translated by Stigel Arno during his second mission to the planet Allux.

The Tale of Ailix and Xilai, Chivalric Age

Just but unforgiving, the day-king Ailix ruled over his kingdom with an iron moustachand. While the sun shone, the roads were safe, and coin flowed into the royal treasury as swiftly as the heads of lawbreakers filled the stockades. But after nightfall, it was a different story. The day-king's alter-self, Xilai, was a legendary debauchee and gambler. Using his royal connection (in those times, it was common practice to grant the alter-selves of rulers sinecures at court), he availed himself freely of the harem and treasury, growing more bold with the passage of time.

Disturbed by the accounts of his night-self's escapades, the day-king decided to teach him a lesson. Barring the gates behind him, Ailix stripped himself of his kingly trappings and waited outside the castle at nightfall. When Xilai awoke, he was denied access to the king's harem, treasury, and bountiful dining hall. But rather than amend his ways, Xilai borrowed a small fortune and held an orgy on the castle grounds.

When the day-king came to with a splitting headache to the aftermath of the night's merrymaking, he was overcome with rage. That day he posted signs throughout the city that anyone giving his alter-self so much as a drop of water would be thrown into the dungeon and left to rot. To make his point, he rounded up the merrymakers and put them in stockades. That evening, once more, he left his alter-self locked outside the castle gates.

This time, Xilai did not have an easy time of it. He wandered up and down the streets, but no whore would meet his gaze, and no moneylender would open his pouch. Realizing he had pushed the day-king too far, Xilai made an act of contrition, placing his head on a pillow of the softest, most fragrant moss so the day-king would awake in comfort. Yet the following night, the punishment did not relent. Night after night, it was the same.

Humiliated and embittered, Xilai resorted to the ultimate treachery. He crossed over the river Qwontzl into enemy territory, the stronghold of day-king Brümgungar and night-king Grömgongen. In exchange for the turnover of the day-king Ailix in the person of his own self, he demanded his own harem, a thousand gold pieces, and the run of the castle. Grömgongen accepted the deal without hesitation, doling out a thousand tiny "pieces" of gold, giving him an old hag that had once been a harem girl, and letting him "roam" the castle with heavy balls of iron chained to his feet. The day-king Ailix had it much worse. He awoke to find himself in a block at the foot of his arch enemy's banquet table. In full view of the court, he was spat on, taunted, lashed, and forced to lap up vomit and perform other degrading acts.

For several years, Ailix and Xilai were held captive in the castle of Brümgungar and Grömgongen. At night, Xilai became a fool to night-king Grömgongen, going about painted in motley with a tuneless lyre. During the day, the proud king Ailix was taunted and tormented mercilessly.

Cheated of his rewards and disliking the role of jester, Xilai plotted his escape. If he could restore the day-king to his throne, he reasoned that an outpouring of royal gratitude would surely follow. Using broken strings from his lyre, he patiently sawed through each of the ten chains bound to his legs. During the ring festival when the castle was in disarray, Xilai knocked off the iron balls and made good his escape, crossing the river Qwontzl into his own kingdom.

That morning, a broken and vengeful Ailix found himself back in his own throne room in his own palace with a note from his night-self describing his valiant and harrowing escape and supplying a few meek suggestions as to how he might reward his savior. Regarding his scarred face in a mirror, the restored day-king had his own ideas of just rewards, however. Every night henceforward he descended into the dungeon where he instructed the night torturer to re-enact every torment he had suffered at the hands of his arch enemy Brümgungar which, now that he was restored to the head of his army, he wasted no time settling accounts with. From dusk 'til dawn, Xilai's howls of agony rang throughout the castle.

As word of the king's brutality to his alter-self spread, it took on the force of legend, surely exceeding its historical roots."Ailix's rewards" became a cautionary catchphrase that translated into "don't make a bad situation worse" or "stick with the devil you know."

Strokka and Blokka go fishing, a modern comedy

One evening, the dim-witted Blokka awoke in a clearing next to a wide river. In front of him was a large wood-framed bowl like a giant toirtex shell that had been upended. "What fun!" Blokka declared, jumping into it and rocking back and forth until he got so woozy he vomited over the side. As he was getting out, he noticed a wooden attachment that had broken off the rim.

"Oh dear!" he exclaimed. His day-self, Strokka, who was some sort of adventurer, was always getting on his case for meddling with his equipment. Strokka would often leave signs—like the one he now noticed knocked over on the ground—with the symbols for KEEP AWAY! DON'T TOUCH!

"I can fix this," Blokka said, reattaching the part the best he could. This done, he noticed a large hide draped over the bough of a tree. In his imagination, he conjured up a great beast that needed slaying. Finding a bundle of poles nearby, he set about beating and stabbing the hide. But the poles all had wide, flat ends. "These are no good as spears!" he fumed. So he whittled their flat ends down to sharp points. "There, that's much better!" He pierced the hide in a dozen places.

When he tired of this pastime, Blokka arranged the poles back into their bundle so Strokka wouldn't notice, then settled down for lunch. There was a big pile of what he took for mushroom stalks but were actually grubs. He was only going to have a few, but he was so famished he ended up eating them all. This gave him a bad stomachache and later, the shits. Not wanting to leave a stinky mess, he noticed a large pail and defecated into it. As the forest began to lighten, he checked everything to make sure it was in its proper place so up-tight Strokka would have no reason to be cross with him.

When Strokka awoke, the thick, morning mist had set in. Accustomed to the antics of his night-self, he gave the clearing a good looking over. "Blokka, that ass!" he cursed when he saw the remains of what was supposed to be his breakfast. Since everything else appeared to be in order, he took down the hide-tarp, which had been left overnight to cure, and lashed it to the outside of the bowl-frame, which was a boat he had specially designed for navigating rough stretches of river. Then he loaded up his paddles and pails, pushed the craft into the water, and climbed in.

At first, Strokka floated along lazily in the gentle current, hungry but content to be on his journey. When the mist rose, he spied a rough patch of water ahead and decided he should steer around it. But when he went to turn the tiller, it broke off and sank to the bottom. He was still pondering this mishap when he noticed water burbling into the bottom of the craft from numerous small holes in the hide. When he took the large bucket and started to bail, the clear water took on a brownish-green hue with some mud-like clumps floating around in it. Were those turds?! Strokka shrank away in disgust. His one goal now was to reach shore before the craft filled up with putrid water and sank.

Fortunately, Strokka had planned for every contingency—nearly every one, at least. He seized the emergency paddles and set about rowing frantically. Only they weren't paddles any longer but useless, pointy spears. To make matters worse, he was heading for a patch of churning whitewater, over which could be heard the thunderous roar of a waterfall. He was up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle.

The tale concludes the same as all Strokka-Blokka stories do, with Strokka shouting at the top of his lungs, "BLOKKAAAA!!"

The Tale of Nijel and Arijan, Romantic Era

In a time long ago, a king had a firstborn son called Nijel. Although Nijel was fair to look upon and adored by the people of his kingdom, in secret he was most forlorn and miserable. For all his wealth could not attain for him that which he most desired: a princess as fair and noble as he. Ladies were brought from the surrounding lands, but to a one they were all too coarse of feature or cold of spirit. Nijel despaired of ever finding his heart's desire when he came upon an augurer at a crossroads dispensing soothsayings.

"The treasure thou seekest is of the most rare and elusive kind," said the augurer. "But despair not. In my many travels, I have heard tell of a divine maiden who is more than thine equal in beauty and radiance of spirit. Yet she is bound by a curse to a ruthless master."

"Oh, tell me where I may find this divine maiden so that I may rescue her and take her to my castle," Nijel begged.

"All true auguries must be paid for in gold," said the augurer.

But Nijel had nothing on his person aside from his princely robes and seal. "Allow me to go and fetch my gold, and I will pay whatever price you ask."

"Soothsayings do not wait even for princes," replied the augurer. "They are like wrykes that alight in the palm when one least expects. If thou dost not seize it this very instant, it will surely fly from thine grasp."

Desperate, Nijel turned over his robes and princely seal. "Take these and present them at the castle. Nothing you ask for will be denied."

"This is payment enough." After a lengthy incantation, the augurer pronounced, "Thou must venture far to find her near. Thou must search for her in the dark, forgotten places. In the lair of the mountain spidex, thou wilt see her footprints. In the den of the scarabex, thou wilt breathe her scent. Thou must complete the circle; only then will thou find thine heart's desire."

"What kind of augury is this?" Nijel burst out in dismay. "These instructions are impossible to follow!"

"The yearning of thine heart is all the map thou needest. Now hasten on thine journey before the mists of fate obscure thy path."

Heeding this advice, Nijel embarked upon a perilous quest laden with fearsome beasts and harrowing escapes. From time to time, a vision of the divine maiden would appear before him in his dreams. Upon waking, he would catch a whiff of her scent or find unfamiliar tracks in the earth. But she was swift as a dragonex and elusive as the wind. Search as he might, he could never catch up to her. When he at last returned to his castle many years hence, weary and broken, he found that his father had perished and the augurer, using the authority of his princely seal, had usurped his throne.

"What is the meaning of this!" Nijel demanded. "You have tricked me."

"There was no deception here, friend," the augurer replied. "I gave thee a true augury at a just price. Lest you think I have treated with you falsely, I will now help thee complete the circle and find thy true heart's desire." With those words, the augurer threw the prince into a round cage so small he was forced to coil up end-to-end. Wedges were placed under the end plates so the night and day faces would remain exposed during sleep.

Beholding the face of his night-self for the first time, Nijel was struck by her surpassing beauty. It was the divine maiden! Even in sleep, she was everything the augurer described. Though her tender features were weathered and scarred from long travel and frightful hardship, time and travail could not erase such a blessing of the gods. "Oh, my one true love," pined Nijel. "I have journeyed the world over to find you, and you have been with me all along, so near yet beyond my seeing. Now here we both are, two ends of the circle joined at last. Though imprisoned in this cage, my eyes rejoice to gaze upon that beauty which has rendered all my illusions grotesque. If I could but once hear the sweetness of your voice, all my suffering would be turned to bliss."

But try as he might, Nijel could not stay awake to hear the least syllable of his beloved's voice. At dusk, just as the light was fading, he would succumb to sleep.

When the night-maiden Arijan awoke to gaze upon the fair, sleeping face of the day-prince, she spat upon him and cursed him. "Oh cruel master who has taken me into the lair of the mountain spidex and the den of the scarabex, who has spirited me away to hard and unknown places to freeze and starve and languish from thirst, who has denied me the love and solace of my friends and sisters, who has filled my timid soul with unceasing terror—now you are repaid! Here in this cage you can torture me no longer. My heart will soar as I imagine your misery and bear witness to your final days."