cocoshomebrew
Villager
One is a lizard, the other a chicken, but these petrifying monsters have a lot more in common than you might think.
Hello, I’m Conan of Coco’s Homebrew, and welcome to the second instalment of From Mythos to Monsters, where we look at how different mythological beasts have been reinterpreted in the modern fantasy genre. If you like this podcast and want to support me in making it, check out my Patreon.
Now let’s talk about today’s monster, or rather monsters. If you’ve read the title, you might be wondering why this is about two different creatures instead of one; well, that’s because the basilisk and cockatrice are arguably one in the same, both stemming from the same legends that became reinterpreted over time and as a result split them in two.
We begin our journey with Pliny the Elder all the way back in 79 AD, back in the days when people were bestowed cool titles like ‘The Elder’ just because they survived past the age of thirty.
Pliny was a Roman author who wrote a book of Natural History that contained the first ever mention of the basilisk. In Pliny’s book, he describes the ‘basiliscus’ as a creature which could turn its victims into stone and breathe toxic gas that could cause widespread destruction, killing animals and plants across the land. Later, Isidore of Seville referred to the creature as being the ‘king of serpents’, a title that the monster is often attributed ever since.
Now obviously, there has never been a real animal capable of doing either of these things, although you could argue that my gas has also been known to cause widespread destruction. However, Pliny’s Natural History was supposed to be science, not fiction, so where did he get the idea that such a bizarre beast actually exists? Well, it appears to be related to animals in Egypt, probably either a farfetched description of cobra or the Nile Crocodile. However, this is where things get interesting: if descriptions of the basiliscus were inspired by the crocodile, it might have also been influenced by mentions of the trochilus bird, which is known to enter the mouths of crocodiles to clean their teeth.
So, we have our first mention of a bird in relation to the legend of a basilisk, but not the last. In the book ‘De naturis rerum’ from the 12th century, the basiliscus was described as being created from the egg of a rooster that was incubated by either a snake or a toad. Do you see where this is going?
Well, things really took a turn when a 12th century book called De proprietatibus rerum was eventually translated into English, finally giving us a translation for the word ‘basiliscus’ in the 14th century. You might expect this is where we get the word basilisk from, but you’d be wrong: the book instead translated the word as ‘cockatrice’. Wow, what a plot twist.
So begins the legend of the cockatrice; however this did not end the legend of the basilisk, who continued to be mentioned throughout history, such as in tales like Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and even the Bible, a literal translation of a passage from which reads: "You will tread on the asp and the basilisk,/ and you will trample the lion and the dragon underfoot." It would have probably been easier to just say “watch where you’re walking”, but I suppose God was always one for drama.
While the basilisk continued to exist in legend, however, it now had to compete with the new cock of the walk: half rooster, half snake, the cockatrice had emerged and it was here to stay. Rising to popularity during the late Middle Ages, this curious creature captured the imaginations of people across Europe, particularly in England. For instance, the noble Langley family of Lancashire, England, have used the cockatrice as their heraldic symbol since the 14th century, while Shakespeare made multiple references to the creature in his plays, specifically in Romeo & Juliet and Richard the III.
Also in England, the village of Wherwell in Hampshire is still associated with the cockatrice to this day: there is a story that the village was terrorised by one until it was imprisoned in a dungeon. While it had been captured, however, the villagers were unable to fully kill the beast without succumbing to its glare. That was until the arrival of a hero whose name would echo throughout history: Green. Yes, his name was the colour Green.
Anyway, our hero Green had a brilliant idea: he grabbed a mirror, took it down into the dungeon, and forced the cockatrice to stare at its own reflection until it was weak enough for him to slay. This mighty warrior was able to kill the starving, caged creature, yet for some reason we don't celebrate his achievements; why do so many saints get their own days but not Green? Maybe it's to avoid confusion with the band.
Anyway, the cockatrice remained a popular folk legend into the 17th century, continuing to be developed with new details such as the idea that the monster’s natural nemesis was the weasel, who was immune to its petrifying stare and whose urine could kill it instantly. To be fair to the cockatrice, I’m not a fan of weasel piss either, although I'd still rather take a face full of that than the tarrasque’s burning naughty word.
It was also said that the cockatrice could be easily scared away by the crowing of a rooster, although perhaps it was just trying to avoid a distant relative.
All of that takes us to the modern day, where the cockatrice and basilisk continue to have a popular, albeit separate, presence in the fantasy genre. To further individualise both creatures, depictions of the basilisk have become more swayed towards that of a serpent or a reptile, notably popularised by games like Dungeons & Dragons and books like Harry Potter and a Song of Ice and Fire.
Now, as popular as Harry Potter has become, JK Rowling sucks and her description of the basilisk sucks too: she describes the creature as an “enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk”, which, in my opinion, is an underwhelming and uninspired take on the legend. I much prefer its depiction in Dungeons & Dragons, which since its 1st edition in 1974 has shown the basilisk as being a hulking beast with many legs comparable to a reptilian centipede, allowing it to remain identifiable among the game’s many dragon-like creatures while also being faithful to historical artwork.
The cockatrice also made its debut in D&D’s 1st edition, and there are several interesting things to note about it. Firstly, D&D’s cockatrice not only has a rooster’s body and a serpent’s tail, but also the wings of a bat. For the life of me I couldn’t find any other depiction of this creature with bat-like features, so for whatever reason it seems to be another quirk thought up by the game’s creator Gary Gygax. You'll quickly get used to Gary popping up and making completely incomprehensible decisions like this.
Additionally, unlike its namesake legend, the cockatrice of D&D must also peck people with its beak before it can turn them to stone, which is a pretty serious downgrade to its abilities from legend. At the very least, the 2025 Monster Manual gives it a normal variant and a more fearsome ‘regent’ variant which does the beast a bit more justice and makes the idea that it could terrorise any village a bit more believable.
Meanwhile, D&D’s basilisk has, unlike the cockatrice, managed to make it through all the editions of the game while still holding onto its petrifying stare. It’s still not a wholly accurate depiction, though: while it does have a poisonous bite, this isn’t quite akin to the poisonous breath it was described as having in legend, which was so potent that it could devastate large areas and even repel the weapons of foes when it was attacked.
So, how can we as storytellers give these creatures the grandeur they deserve while still keeping them wholly identifiable from one another? Well, I have some ideas of what I'd do.
There's not much that can really be done about the cockatrice since, unlike the basilisk, it sort of came out of thin air. As such there aren't many legends or pre-17th century descriptions of it. I do think that the idea of the common weasel being its arch-rival is an underutilised and pretty comical part of its background, and I really like the idea of a bunch of adventurers or monster slayers tasked with killing a cockatrice prepping for their hunt by figuring out how to catch a weasel and bottle its piss.
I'm more interested, however, in helping the basilisk regain some of its former grandeur, and having it seem like a much more imposing beast of folklore that could terrorise entire countries instead of just villages.
To achieve this, I would go to great lengths to make the basilisk as imposing as possible, firstly by adorning its head with a crown-like protrusion similar to what it had in many previous depictions, but which games like the Witcher and D&D have neglected to bestow it in their own interpretations.
Next, I would make sure the basilisk was as powerful as it was once feared to be, while also being careful to hone in on the parts of its legend that make it distinct from other monstrous reptiles, like for example the dragon. I would write of how the basilisk’s poisonous breath had eradicated all life around its lair for miles, turning its domain into a barren, lifeless wasteland. The closer you got to its nest, the more your path would become obstructed by the battalions of petrified, stone corpses of those who had tried to defeat it before you; after all, it wouldn’t be the king of lizards without a kingdom of helpless subjects to rule over. Just make sure you see it before it sees you.
I hope you enjoyed learning about these two monsters, which I personally think are pretty underrated in the landscape of fantasy and deserve a bit more love. You can click the image below to check out my Patreon.
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