Fables ✧ Lore Prompts - Oct 16-31

[persimmon]

marking

[Ucanthandleme]

prompt: character - art / writing
fable: Haun
entry: (370 words)
To those who I love I give my heart.
To those who I love I give my soul.
To those who I love I give my body.
To those who I love I give my home.
I could never quite find the words to say how much I loved them, nor could I find the actions too. I tried my hardest with sputtering words gift of great thought and all the time and attention I could give. Never enough. It never quite felt like he could truly convey how much he cared, how much he wished for a smile, a hug, a laugh, a second of acknowledgement that they knew he cared. It was never enough. He walked through flames, battled through wars and bought great peace. It was never enough. If you asked he could give, give it all. All of his being placed in your palm maybe then he could truly show his love.
So he gave it, his heart.
So he gave it, his soul.
So he gave it, his body.
So he gave it, his home.
The key to his heart wrapped up in a box of gold only for his love. His love looked back but he did not look with love, instead their was a mournful gaze. They mourned for his home, they mourned for his body, they mourned for his soul, they mourned for his heart. They looked at the box with tears, a box with such a weight many could not bare...many did not bare.
But this time was different.
They listened to his heart.
Comforted his soul.
Patched up his body.
Became his new home.
That was all he wanted back, what made them feel loved: undivided care, recognition, appreciation, love. He did not was for extravagant gift, instead words of affection, actions of love and your true acknowledge of his clumsy destructive love. In return to show his love he gave it his all, all his love with not an ounce left behind.
To those who I love I give my heart.
To those who I love I give my soul.
To those who I love I give my body.
To those who I love I give my home.

prompt: world - writing
entry: (298 words)
A tall fable passed through generations that seemed quite absurd and frankly ludicrous was there was once a fable with great magic, this fable rather liked gold. He liked gold so much that was the only magic he learned, the magic of gold. He make anything into gold, a book, a bear, a muffin, a pan. Anything he could turn to gold he would, very quickly he had his own mountain of gold, yet his craving for it wasn't satisfied, so he turned his home to gold. His house in the depths of the mountain shiny and gold, his socks, his toilet, even his garden gnome all plated in gold. Yet he still wasn't satisfied so he made the mountain into gold too every tree every stream, every animal every ounce of dirt turned into gold. Yet he still wasn't satisfied. He turned everything he saw into gold yet it still wasn't enough, so in some contemplation he sat at a mirror. Then he looked up his eyes widening, wouldn't he look good as gold. Gold hair, hold eyes, gold skin and gold heart what could be better.so the man turned himself to gold. How unfortunate though, man cannot live if he become gold, but I'm sure he's happy.

The fable gestured dramatically at his crew ready to go on the infamous treasure hunt of gold, "So that means somewhere out there there is an entire mountain of gold waiting for us out there". The crew gave a sigh, knowing this was yet again going to be a dead end, unfortunately their boss took every fable and story to heart, a mountain of gold, in there dreams. Nevertheless the set off, just like many other adventures before them, on the search for the hidden mountain of gold

[Vivika]

prompt: world ✧ writing
entry: 597 words
no one knows when iobelles first entered this realm.

the astral council whisper that it began when the first of saturn’s rings shattered. when shards of moonrock and the bones of fallen celestial bodies no longer followed its fated dance around saturn’s throne. instead, they coalesced into a sphere of flickering flame and dying daylight, becoming one of the thousand shooting stars that eternally pass through the realm. and on the eve of its first journey, something rippled. shifted.

the sojourners claim the change happened later. at the start of a new millenia, where the meld of wind and water upon timestone for the thousandth time didn’t chime as it did for centuries past. it roared. the sound boomed like the wrath of warring gods spilled from a golden goblet, crashed like an armageddon of thunders gathering from all four corners of the realm. and when silence breathed once more, it ushered in something new. something different.

colors bloomed to life on our skin—the spirit kiss of flora and fauna. the restless twine of grape vines, the colors a rich burgundy and gold, looped around fetlocks. the kiss of windswept petals falling from a single carnation across a cheek. the curled whorls of aged wisteria branches entwined on a shoulder. each varied in vibrance and size. some held the soul of the deep imprinted on the sweep of their backs—a wild seascape of brewed greens and pops of coral surrounding twin swordfish. others had theirs in secret places, a trio of firespun koi under braided manes or a lonely crow silhouetted by harvest moons under a hoof.

back then, we didn’t know what it all meant. we didn’t know that different colors and designs held different meanings, promised different fates, foretold the length of your days. back then, sprawling rainforests of color and tiny monochrome alpine florals were equal—loved and cherished the same. we called them after the language of old—iobelles. a mark of beauty and elegance, entrusted to us by some divine force.

some call it a gift. the realm has been at peace for millenia. a time where the rivers ran red with conquest, where the skies wept ashen tears and where the valleys sang the bones of the dead to rest has long since faded from common memory. they are ripples of the past—folklore of past centuries. we had transcended those eras of blood and bone, proven ourselves worthy of this gift.

others believe it a curse. a form of knowing no soul should ever heed. a shackle to free-choice and free-will, an executioner’s blade ghosting the skin of our necks. for time is sacred, love is a choice, fate is ever-changing. our millenia of peace is a testament to those truths and the isobelles threaten to erode those foundations.

yet, i believe it’s neither. i believe this is a test. a trial for the untested, for the inheritors and heirs of the peace we’ve built and the statutes we stand on. for the generation that knows nothing of wars and heartache, whose hands have never held a blade and whose lips have never tasted the salt of flowing tears.

i believe iobelles were never meant to harm or heal, but to grow us—to stretch us beyond where we are now. to see if our realm will still stand on the truths we’ve tested and grow around the new, folding it in with the wisdom of old. i believe they were meant to reveal the hidden faultlines in our foundation before it is too late.

- ▉▉▉▉▉, scholar, order of eo
executed for treason


prompt: character ✧ writing
fable: gio & sera (npcs / non-owner)
entry: 371 words
as travelling emissaries, the stars aligned more often than their paths ever crossed. too often, the constellations of twin warlords clashed, blades quivering above an altar forged of dying stars, before they even caught a glimpse of each other. other times, travelling stars cascaded from alpine waterfalls and cycled back up at least thrice before their schedules aligned. the pull of their responsibilities left little waking moments to spare, their lives tethered to their pledged allegiances and oaths.

but it never stopped him from loving his little sister from afar.

the little things, the tiny moments. they all counted—every last one of them. origami critters tucked in the folds of her beloved cashmere scarves. baked treats left at her doorstep, enchanted to stay fresh till her return. sachets of new blends of sweet-teas charmed from the chefs of the rosazul gardens. sometimes, if time so deigned to release him from their clutches, he penned letters by candlelight. letters written in childhood code, letters written in ink only revealed in the purest white light, letters hidden in puzzle boxes that she had to solve before the contents were revealed.

and she returned the favor, too.

he found little inside-jokes mysteriously appearing in the hidden folds of his cloaks. illustrated folktales materializing in the secret alcove that they once shared in a quieter life. stickers, near iridescent in the daylight, taped on the stained glass of his bedroom window. and in the rare moments where time slowed enough for her to catch her breath, there were floating discs too. recordings of her voice, rich and mellifluous, as she recounted her stories—the last scandal she witnessed, the last sunrise she watched till the very end, the last book she read that reminded her of him. sometimes, she posed riddles that left his thoughts tangled until the thirteenth hour. other times, she left him with the lyrics of an ancient song, a poem that had challenged her philosophies, the wisps of a forgotten dream.

together, they were planets forever in orbit around their sun. their dances taking them close, but never touching. their loyalty to each holding fast, but never openly. the shared moments between them few and fleeting, but far from unfeeling.

[honeybunchesofoats]

prompt: world - art / writing
entry:

Jules followed the fractured moonlight reflected in the deck prisms intent on discovering the source of buzzy chittering. It had been strange, given the last few months on the ship with this crew, that nobody was wandering the lower level. By now he should have bumped into at least one other person going to their bunk or the kitchen for a snack, but instead he was greeted with shadows that danced on the walls, toying with his head. He shook it off, climbing the steps at the end of the hall. He was greeted with bright stars and percussive laughter,clearly some sort of celebration. A pang of some unknown sour feeling made him stop in his tracks, and linger in the safety of the cover of darkness. It was not often that he was graced with the presence of Bishop’s true personality, the sight of it stealing his breath. The silver haired sailor stood atop a bench, half empty beer stein in hand as he addressed the crowd, who cheered him on like he had just won some great medal of merit.

“Atta boy Bishop! Speech, speech! By the seven seas!”, several of the crew members spoke over each other. Victory, though shorter than most of the other men, towered over them in sheer power of leadership. He placed a finger to his lips and quieted the ruckus.

“Men you know the tradition, Bishop decides what he wants to speak about tonight. It’s his birthday after all.”

Jules’ eyebrows shoot up and he leans against the wall by the staircase he climbed, just observing. He made a mental note to remember this date. There was an understanding murmur among the group and Bishop rubbed at his beard in thought. Jules could see the moment he made up his mind, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Lock your doors and windows, when the sea gives up it’s dead.”, his voice booms and excited chatter spreads throughout the group.

“Beware the draugr, for its rage will not be fed. It steals for love of stealing, it hurts for love of pain. Beware the draugr when it roams the midnight plane.” Jules watches as the men huddle together and make eerie ghost sounds to back up Bishop’s dramatic storytelling. The navigator strides the length of the bench, hunched and whispering.

“It lingers near the grave and the breath that it once drew. Beware the draugr, for tonight it comes for you.”, Jules’ feels a frog catch in his throat as Bishop points a finger in his direction, the heads of the crew members turning to meet him. Jules’ sheepishly waves and shuffles his way to them.

“I apologize for interrupting the celebration, I was just curious what all the noise was for.”, he bows his head in acknowledgement.

The men shrug off his apology and clap him on the shoulder, sitting him down and handing him a glass of wine. Bishop’s shoulders tense, but if he had issue with him joining, he keeps it to himself. The night continues with more beer and wine, rowdy singing and dancing, jokes and stories. Slowly, the crew begins to dissipate leaving Bishop and Jules to awkwardly sit in each other’s company. An uncomfortably long silence follows before Jules breaks it.

“That story, the ghost one or whatever it was…”, Bishop’s eyes widened in surprise.

“The draugr is not a ghost story, of course you wouldn’t know. You city dweller’s have no reason to fear their wrath.”, Bishop chuffs.

Jules shakes his head and rests his elbows on his knees, tilting his head up to still watch Bishop. He sees the pirate’s eyes go dark, gears turning in that head of his Jules feels he will never understand.

“Tell me.”Jules pressed.

“A pirate crew comes across an abandoned cargo ship in the middle of a foggy night. They anchored and climbed aboard to pillage the supplies left behind, but the ship wasn’t entirely abandoned. The captain was ambushed by a sole surviving crew member, or so he would have told. He killed that man, whether out of fear or in cold blood, but he was just asking for help. They dumped him overboard and finished their task.” Bishop rubbed at his face and Jules straightened in his seat.

“Two days later, while docked at a nearby port, the body washed ashore. The pirates left to avoid questioning but then something started to plague the crew. Shadows, whispers, taking up space in their heads.”, his words were pointed, a chill running down Jules’ spine.

“They all claimed it was him, the survivor. The one the captain murdered.” Jules’ breath catches in his throat and Bishop’s concentration breaks. The two of them had moved closer to each other, sitting on the same bench now. They stared at each other, breaths held before Bishop clears his throat and retreats his gaze.

“Drove em mad. It was bloody and messy. Nobody survived.”

Jules clenched his hands into fists to hide their soft trembling.

“So the body…the survivor-”

“Draugr”, Bishop cuts him off sharply.

“Yes, the draugr it killed those men? An entire crew?”, Jules muttered.

Bishop shook his head.

“The draugr only possessed them, scared them, tortured their thoughts. In the end their doubt in each other betrayed them.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Jules took a deep, shaky breath.

“That is…tragic. Where did you hear such a story?”

“Saint, my advisor. Penrith’s previous navigator.”, Jules perked up at Bishop’s mention of his college city.

“You know Saint? Small world after all. He’s a good man, I hope he is doing well. I did a house call for him at his current home before-”, Jules cuts himself off, realizing he and Bishop had run into each other before being introduced on the ship.

Bishop seemingly stews over this, whether or not he had already come to the same conclusion, Jules could not tell.

“Alright, let’s get you back to your office doctor.”, Bishop stood, waiting for Jules to follow suit. The ginger rises, carefully watching the sailor like two stags sizing each other up.

“Surgeon.”, he corrects and Bishop rolls his eyes. (1,022 words)

prompt: character - art / writing
fable: Jules (and Bishop)
entry: Bishop enjoys looking at Jules the sunset.(10 hr canvas on procreate)


bonus colored sketch of Jules’ pov

[SilkenDragon]

prompt: world - writing
entry: 280 words

There is a fable called the dragonslayer, known for appearing at the sites of magical disasters. The title comes from a famously odd report made by a pair of scouts, who encountered a stranger wandering the area while tracking the location of a dragon in their herd’s territory. When the scouts attempted to escort the stranger out, the stranger turned hostile and the resulting scuffle attracted the dragon’s attention. As the stranger changed targets to the dragon, the scouts fled for help. When the scouts later returned with support, both the dragon and the stranger had mysteriously disappeared.

There are other stories featuring fables matching the stranger’s appearance, both local and not, and thus the oddity behind this character is how widespread and pervasive they are. Unrelated cultures seem to have independently recorded stories featuring the dragonslayer across times far longer than any mortal lifespan. The details of each story vary, but the dragonslayer continues to be described consistently between them, so it is believed that the original dragonslayer is or was a living fable. Though, as they continue to make appearances around the world presently, their current identity is uncertain: whether they be members of some secret organization, some title or inheritance being passed down, or some other matter.

The dragonslayer tends to avoid developed areas and ignore other fables: on the few accounts where fables have been able to approach them, they only react when hindered. Due to this reclusive nature and the matter of where they appear, very little is known of them. Many who claim to have crossed paths with them only recognize them after the disaster has been resolved and the dragonslayer has already vanished.



prompt: character - writing
fable: NPCs
entry: 434 words

Keep them in memory, share in their joys. You and your kin are immortal, nameless beasts who carry nothing but their bodies and minds. Items may rot, words may change, but every memory will remain. As such, the journey is far more important than the result. You once planted a tree in your sister's honor, whispering every story you heard of her into its budding leaves. In time it grew lush and strong, until one day on one of her visits, that fable it had heard of for so long knocked it down! Your sister was so apologetic, coming to you with wilted ears and shoulders hunched, fearing she had ruined your work. It was a bit mean, but you couldn’t help but laugh. The tree is only a symbol, you had comforted her; the value it held was in the memories of you it reminded me of.
You could always plant another, or you could plant nothing, as the shape of the vessel mattered little. There is nothing that can be kept forever, but nor is there anything that can be lost forever.

Another day, your brother had asked for you to meet him. It was rare he reached out, so you had hurried over, worried if he was well. He seemed unworried on your arrival, and had a child peeking at you from his shadow. Puzzled, you took the seat he offered and asked after his health. He assured you the invitation was nothing serious, simply the returning of an old favor, then nodded to the child who had retreated to the doorway. They vanished down the hall before returning with two items that they set down firmly in front of you: a warm cup of some muddy liquid and a metal tin. At their expectant look, you take a hesitant sip. You recognize the flavor, though you’re surprised that you do.

An old memory returns. On a rainy night, you pick out a rare blend to make a comforting drink for a sick child your brother had brought to you for help. The child seems to enjoy it, which is good, so you gift them the entire tin, but secretly, it is good because you disliked the flavor and are glad to not waste it.

Your brother sees your expression and gives you a small smile, saying that the child felt bad about taking your supplies, and wanted to remake it for you. You should really reject it. It’s unlikely that you’ll enjoy it anymore than you did before. But something warm in your chest makes you pick up the tin.

[bezel]

✧ ✧ ✧

what intriguing worlds and characters! i love the creativity!
new prompts are up now, deadline march 15 :D

raffle results were rolled in the discord:
mystery fable winner: feverrr
semi-custom winners: LokisTrick, ylesia, quiche cat!, Knickknacks
I’m also choosing to complete a semi custom for Vivika and SilkenDragon, the non-owner entries! (and they wrote such lovely stories!)

semi-custom winners, please PM/DM me whenever with some traits you like (or dislike) and any inspiration like a palette/mood board

✧ ✧ ✧

[alphanea]

once again congratulations to the winners!! looking forward to seeing all the semi-customs pop-up!

prompt: world - writing
entry:


section five, page hundred-fifty, flora and fauna concerning the demonic, draconic and otherworldly:


dracossium
habitat: arid spaces that don't house any other vegetation.
description: a prickly shrub that is in the color of bone, the spikes it sprouts are hard to the touch and when ingested taste burning hot akin to the breath of a dragon. only a few select species (and fables) are able to consume this without processing. once a year it blooms with flowers that range from blue, purple and pink, the blooms lasting for a week.
special note: often used as a spice and has recently gotten scarce in the wilds due to demand for this exotic seasoning. rumoured to be connected to the death of great dragons, that their bodies mix into the ground where they fall and the bones find new life through the fresh blooms. symbolizes death and rebirth.



- a couple pages seem to be missing in between -


lumen-grass
habitat: moonlit groves and locations where the sun doesn't exactly touch.
description: a partially bio-luminescent flowerless plant that thrives in places bathed in moonlight. on first glance it appears a deep shade of purple in the form of patches of grass but when something comes in contact with it (strong gusts of wind also have the same effect) it lights up in a soft lilac hue for a brief moment before returning to its natural non-glowing state. it is theorized that animals (and fables) that graze on this grass will find their wounds and illnesses healing faster. it also has properties to be used as a pearlescent dye when crushed.
special note: it is often said in legends that lumen-grass can guide travellers who have lost their way in the dark back towards safety. not to be confused with lumen-bloom, the flowering subtype from the same family.


prompt: character - writing
fable: alopex, imogen
entry:


for alopex - an ornate gold engraved hand mirror mirror: not just for the sake of vanity (which he is guilty of, of course, how can you not be a little vainglorious when you're positively glowing!) but to take quick glances behind without having to turn around. being on the run is a core concept of their identity. there is more to the prizes possession if one ever manages to get close enough to alopex to examine it, initials carved into the frame that holds the looking-glass that are all but unknown to anyone except the owner himself.

for imogen - a branch: it looks to be an ordinary branch, about twenty centimetres in length with one little branch of its own that make it vaguely resemble the shape of the letter 'y', sooth-black bark as if it was burnt to a crisp some time ago. yet imogen is able to differentiate it from any other ordinary twig (and would get greatly offended if someone assumed it anything but extraordinary). It comes from imogen's homeworld, or rather home plane-of-existence, a hellish landscape that time and time again imogen finds themselves homesick about. the plants there were all the color of coal, death and decay being the norm - and imogen loved it. still it's fun enough to explore this new world, with its more varied fauna and interesting faces. back to the branch itself, the little thing got sucked in through the portal that opened for imogen, cluttering the other side as if an ordinary piece of windswept junk for some time before imogen realized the existence of such a precious treasure. now it is kept safe at imogen's side as a reminder of home as they go forth and have their little adventures.

[ylesia]

prompt: world - writing
entry: Geology field guide written by Everett

Know your rocks
or a field guide on rocks on the Mighty Peaks

written by Everett

Introduction

Howdy traveller! I'm Everett and I'm here to tell you something about the rocks you are going to pose your hooves on! Well, I'm not really here, or maybe I am since I'm writing this. Oh, this is complicated, we might come back to this later on. Lets go back to something more interesting: rocks. If you are reading this then you probably love them as much as I do.
In this field guide you will find a detailed description of all the different rocks you could come across while travelling these mountains.
Before starting our journey, a disclaimer: this guide is about rocks, not minerals. If you don't know the difference then you can throw this away[1].

[1] No, please, don't do it. You need to know the difference, it's really important. A mineral is a substance with a unique cristalline structure, while rocks are made up of two of more minerals and are the result of geological processes. So minerals are the constituents of rocks, rocks are what you walk on. Now you know, you can keep on reading.

1

Dirty-brown-ugly rock: this rock is the most common. You can find it everywhere, it is like mud, it might be cool at first but then it becomes so annoying. This is usually the upper layer of the mountains and to find more interesting stuff you need to remove it. Use something sturdy that won't break after a couple of blows and hit, hit and hit. This rock is usually good for sculpting animals or other fables[2].

Super-duper-white rock: this rock is absolutely the best. It's white and this is enough reason, but it's also so soft. It's very rare and can be found only in the short valley that starts on the eastern side of Clearwaters Lake. It is usually hidden under a layer of dirty-brown-ugly rock so I wouldn't be surprised if you don't see it at first glance. You first need to remove that layer and the super-duper-white rock might be there. It might take you some tries but it is worth the effort, trust me. This rock is generally really good for sculptures of flying creatures.

Bloody-orange rock: now, this is interesting. This rock is quite rare and can be found on the western side of Clearwater Lake. It has a strange smell, it's like something is burning. I spent some time studying it and I think this rock is a relic of the Cruel War. Probably it was melted by the fire of the Mighty Dragon (be blessed) and kept that smell. This rock is perfect for sculpting plants and vegetables in general.

[2] I'm not saying other fables are ugly, this rock is just perfect for this subject. I don't decide which rock goes with which subject, ugliness is just my very personal impression.

2

Grey-smooth rock: this rock is special. It can be found only underwater, in the lake or one of the streams or rivers. It is in the form of small pebbles and it's different from the dirty-brown-ugly rock. It is mainly grey and has white streaks. It's really nice and makes a good gift. All fables in my herd make a huge smile when I gift them this rock and they tell me it's an incredible and unique gift! I think they don't realise how common this rocks are on the riverbed or they wouldn't appreciate it that much! This rocks are good for sculpting small symbols and figures, whatever the subject.

Black-black rock: this rock is fascinating. It is really black and can be found only on the highest peaks, in the north. It's scary, you should avoid it. It will remind you of your worst nightmares. Stay away from it, trust me. This rock is good for sculpting scary stuff, but don't do it, it's scary.

Almost-blue-like-water rock: this is one of my favourites. It's not really blue but it has some streaks of blue. It is mostly grey but lighter than the grey-smooth rock. This rock is rare, rarer than the super-duper-white rock. I couldn't find a region where it is more common, it's just super rare. It has weird shapes and you can't levigate it. No matter how you try, it will break. This rocks wants sharp, pointed angles and you can't make it more gentle. This rock is good only for sculpting abstract figures since it can't take a smooth shape.

3

Epilogue

Well, this is all for now. There are variation of the rocks I described above but these are the most common ones and variations are not that different from the originals. I think most of the variations you can find are due to a mixing of the main types of rocks. These unique rocks are my favourites since they are unique and I have quite a collection of them. If you want to see it come and visit my hut.

PS. I almost forgot to tell you where you can find me: I live on the peak to the east of the highest peak. From my hut I have a wonderful view on both islands. It's a pretty place, you should visit, really.

PPS. Oh, another thing: not far from my hut there is a cave full of minerals. I prefer rocks, but minerals in there are quite good too.

4

prompt: character - writing
fable: Everett
entry:

As soon as you enter the hut you notice them: there are hundreds. Most of them have a very unique shape: animals, plants, other fables. Those sculptures are real art and the choice of the rock is not casual. It looks like each piece of rock is made for that particular figure and nothing else. One them is special. Not because it is more beautiful or refined better, but there's something like an aura around it. It is the sculpture of an ibex. The animal is standing on a rock raising its head looking at the sky. Well, the ceiling of the hut actually, but when you look at that ibex you really have the impression that it is looking at something majestic. Maybe the clouds or an eagle flying hight. Or maybe both.
The rock it is made of is weird too. It is mostly white, but it is also brown. Probably it is a mixture of what Everett calls super-duper-white rock and the dirty-brown-ugly rock. It's incredible how brown and white tones mix giving volumes to the ibex. It looks like it is real and you expect it to breathe or turn its head.
Everett sculpted it during a sunny summer afternoon. There were just a few clouds in the sky and one of them was the exact copy of an ibex. Everett had just found that beautiful white and brown rock and was looking at the blue sky above them. Suddenly they heard something next to them. An ibex was standing a few inches from them. Everett and the ibex were almost the same size. And both were looking at the sky. When Everett looked down to the ground their magical gift had done the trick and the rock had the shape of the ibex. The animal was still there and Everett smiled at it. The ibex bowed and hopped down the steep rocky mountain.

[SpawnofMagick]

prompt: world - writing
entry:

Magickal Fauna of the Death Domain

Grim Hounds:
These inky black furred canines can be found all over the dead forest near the boarder of the Death Domain. Like their less magickal cousin, the wolf, these hounds can often be found in large familial packs. This semi intelligent species has a long standing rivalry with the neighboring Cu-Sith that inhabits both like Life and Death Domain. Grim Hounds are not known for hunting down prey. Instead these creatures appear to not need to eat in order to live. It's suspected they somehow obtain energy through photosynthesis, further analysis required. It is unadvised to seek out these creatures alone. They are territorial and known to attack on sight.

Cu-Sith:
Cu-Sith are a solitary canine species sporting green fur with braided tails. They roam the boarder between the Life and Death domain. These canines are quite large in size, standing at nearly the height of a black bear. These intelligent creatures have been classified as highly dangerous and it's advised not to seek them out alone. If you see one, pray it hasn't seen you. Further analysis needed, but not recommended.

Cat-Sith:
Cat-Sith are a large, bull-sized species of black cat with a white spot found on their chests. Their eyes typically range from gold, amber, yellow, and green. These animals are solitary and skilled hunters, taking down large prey with ease. They are the most widely distributed species found in the Death Domain, found in almost all corners of the territory. It's been found that these creatures are surprisingly docile to humans and easy to tame. For those exploring the Death Domain, it is not uncommon for Cat-Sith to be used as mounts. This simi-intelligent species can be surprisingly loyal if given the right care. Please read up in your local library about the taming and care process if you wish to explore the Death Domain.

It is currently unknown if other magickal fauna species exist in the Death Domain. It has been suggested that the elusive Fable may be found here. However, no crucial evidence has been found to support that. Exploration of the territory has been found to be difficult and dangerous. A follow-up guide will be made once humans have managed to successfully and thoroughly explore the territory.

-- Henry Wells

[BelieverInChrist]

prompt: world - writing
entry:

➳ Plantae
1. Snake Charmer........(Dracaena decorus)
Native to equatorial regions of the world, this succulent plant is noted for its coordinated blooming season. Dracaena decorus lives in groves which share a subterranean rhizome network. Such a network enables these plants to "communicate" with one another via hormonal signals. Blooming time occurs at the end of local dry season, in which the whole grove produces an array of spectacular white-and-pink flowers. These flowers are notable for their shape: that of an open-mouthed viper, ready to strike.

Fables specializing in botany have successfully recreated Snake Charmer groves in their own gardens, both personal and academic, though the blooming cycle of domestic Dracaena decorus gradually falls out of step with its wild compatriots. Eventually, the blooming cycle slows to a halt and the plants remain in a period of "dormancy." They continue to thrive in all other measurable ways, but totally cease to bloom. Some things, it seems, are impossible to recreate in captivity.

2. String of Feathers........(Tradescantia pluma)
A variety of perennial trailing fern, it is now so widespread across the continents that efforts to trace its source have been complicated. Tradescantia pluma is noted for its delicate leaves, which closely resemble the fledgling feathers of a bird in their immature state. A lover of humidity, Tradescantia pluma thrives in tropical and temperate rainforests, and anywhere close enough to sea level to retain enough moisture in the air. Left unchecked, strands of the plant can grow up to 4ft. long before the stem loses its ability to supply the whole plant with nutrients and growth ceases. If the plant is allowed to grow out over the ground or the branches of a tree as a creeping vine, it may produce roots at its nodes, which allows it to grow a few feet longer.

Fables have long studied Tradescantia pluma for its potential medicinal qualities. In folk medicine across several prehistoric cultures, this botanical was taken internally via herbal teas or topically via poultices as a method of reducing pain. From headaches to broken limbs, its capabilities as an anti-inflammatory and powerful analgesic have been widely studied in the modern age. A dose too high is capable of rendering a Fable temporarily paralyzed, with the suspected (though yet untested) risk of fatality. For this reason, it is best left as a decorative wild plant until a suitable balance can be struck.

➳ Minerale
1. Angel Tears........(Pluvite)
Angel Tears are pale blue stones, often mined from the earth in clusters of small, hexagonal spears. A species of beryl, these minerals form in empty pockets of granite, when mineral-rich water encounters magma. This mingling of water and molten rock creates a new, hydrothermal fluid, rich in minerals and chemicals. These hydrothermal deposits continue to travel through the earth, eventually settling in hollow spaces. The deposits then cool over a very long period of time, creating tiny, blue crystals. Related to Aquamarine, Emerald, Morganite, and other color varieties of beryl, Pluvite is treasured for its delicate and unique beauty. Compared to the others, its color is somewhat desaturated.

In Fable culture, Angel Tears are a widely-given gift for those grieving a personal loss. Because their crystals are so small, they are most often set in jewelry or held in tiny glass bottles. Unlike other gems, Angel Tears are never set in horseshoes—not even for very special occasions.

[Total WC: 559]