Fables ✧ Lore Prompts - Oct 1-15

[Shisou]

prompt: character - Past prompt- Precious possessions
fable: Mizuki
entry: (268 words)

Golden pocket watch- a gold pocket watch that was given to Mizu by they're grandpa. Mizu as a foal was always interested in the trinkets they're grandfather had acquired from his many adventures and the golden pocket watch was an item that interested Mizu the most. On Mizuki's birthday they're grandpa gave them the pocket watch as a present and Mizuki had held the pocket watch close to they're heart ever since as a reminder of they're grandpa.

Adventure journal- An old journal that once belonged to Mizu's grandpa. The journal holds detailed information about all the adventures Mizu's grandpa went on when he was young, along with several blank page's for future adventures to be written on. Mizuki hopes to find the locations of the adventures written in they're grandfather's journal and also hopes to fill some of the journals blank pages with some of they're own adventures.

Black pearl- A beautiful black pearl that Mizu found as a foal and has cherished ever since then. Mizu thinks of the pearl as they're good luck charm and always has it on them whether it be around they're neck or tucked away in they're bag. To make sure they don't lose they're good luck charm Mizu had the pearl made into a pendant and then put onto a chain so they can wear the pearl as a necklace. When not wearing they're good luck charm Mizu places it into a small box that they tuck away safely in they're bag.

These three items are Mizuki's most precious possessions and they're something the normally stoic Merfable absolutely dreads losing.

[BlueEyedKite]

prompt: world - Mysterious tales - What’s an example of folklore within your fable world? Beliefs & customs, myths, fairy tales, cryptids, etc!

entry:
The hour grew late. A trinket perched on the mantle of the hearth shuddered into life. Gears turned, a faint clicking followed, then a melody began to play.

At the playing of this tinkling song, Cian lifted his gaze from the literature he had been perusing. “Will you be much longer, mo chridhe (my heart)?”

Kleio was behind his desk, barely visible, what with the mountain of texts and all the oddities forming a fable-made wall. The small gap that allowed observers to notice him would note that his eyes were still downcast. He made no reply.

Cian waited until the chime finished its heralding before pressing again. “I do enjoy those rare occasions when we turn in together,” he said with a rueful smile forming on his lips.

Still nothing from the other. Then, without warning, the study door swung open. Some baubles on a nearby shelf tumbled down to the floor. Two children paraded in with pounding of feet.

“Da, can we have a story?” a sweet, genteel voice pleaded.

“Tell us about the wulver, Da!” A raucous demand came from the taller of the two children.

“My sweetings,” Cian welcomed the two precocious fawns into his lap. The girl twin sat on his left knee, while the male twin the right. He kissed them both on the crown of their head. “Of course you may have a tale.”

“Why are you two not in bed?” a gruff voice drifted out from behind the desk.

Cian clucked his tongue. “M’eudail (darling), were you not a curious fawn once?”

“Curious at the proper hour,” Kleio retorted.

The twins looked as if they were on the verge of erupting into more chatter. Cian quickly silenced them by squeezing them in a tight hug. “Peace, now. We have time yet for a quick tale.”

“Something we haven’t heard before?” the girl with pleaded eyes like saucers asked.

“A grim one, Da!” The boy was grinning wide, but the effect was more impish than genial.

“Haven’t heard of,” Cian mused. “Well, then it would have to be a legend from my country.”

They settled in for a story with the ambience of a fire crackling away in the hearth. Cian began the tale as he always did: describing the majesty of the woods of his birth. That many kindly creatures lived there. And that all were protected under the watchful eye of the sun god. And yet, there was a time when Grian had not his eye on the land day and night. At the setting of the sun, the shadow god roamed. In those days the woodland animals knew never to leave their homes after dark. The shadow god was wicked and reveled in his power over the weak. If he caught a wanderer out of bed he would whisk the poor soul to the Under-Realm, that wicked world below.

By this time the girl twin was holding her breath. The boy twin proclaimed he would not be scared and would boldly explore if given the chance. Cian smiled. Well, as it happens there was a fable of the wood who had no fear of shadows. He was a fisher of the lake. Hunting the nocturnal predators like the mighty pike. The children badgered Cian with questions. How did he go out freely after dark? Did he carry a powerful weapon? Well no. He did not carry a sword or bow. What the fisher did bring with him was an oil lamp.

The disappointment could not be more evident on the children’s faces. A lamp. Surely there had to be more to it? Ah, it was an oil lamp and a song. Not just any song, but a ballad that dates back to the founding of the fable realm. Lyrics that boast of love undying, loyalty unquestionable, and bravery limitless. The shadow god will not linger where the founding tale is sung. And moreover, shrinks away from the steady rays of an oil lamp. So, the fisher spent his nights casting his line and fattened his coin purse with his catches.

Maybe the fisher would have carried on all his days. Yet, in the dark, evil thrives. Greed took hold of the fisher. He caught all the pike by the North shore, then the West bank, and on and on until only the very center of the lake was populated. Now, going out in a boat was no small task. The lake was prone to storms. The villagers advised the fisher to switch to river trout. But he had his sights set on pike, and would listen to no reason.

That night he cast off his boat while, unknowingly, the shadow god lurked from the shoreline. Sure enough, an ill wind blew and a storm brewed. The boat was tossed terribly. The oil lamp was knocked overboard in the fray. Still the fisher sang. Sang his heart out. Only, he didn’t know that the shadow god had his kin in the lake, as well. The kelpies came for him. Snatched him right out of the boat. The fisher had enough time to cry out. It’s that cry that carries out over the lake to this day. The peoples of the wood call it the ‘wailing winds’. A warning to all to stay in bed. Do not press your luck by adventuring after dark.

“What! But boba (King Kerr) said that noise was the breeze off the bluffs,” the boy twin protested.

“Oh. I don’t like that, Da. Caty let’s go to bed.” The girl twin reached to cling to her brother’s arm.

“Such a ghastly story to offer young minds.” Kleio was craning his neck to see over a pile of books.

“Fah,” Cian scoffed. “My ma shared this tale with me when I was their age.”

“To dissuade a curious fawn, I imagine,” Kleio added drily.

The little ones gave their fathers each a kiss then were sent off to bed. Somewhere, far and away, where the ancient forest slept—an eerie call carried over the lake.

[SilkenDragon]

prompt: character - formal/festival wear
fable: gravel
entry: more festival than formal because tassels. i feel like the fanciest thing i could come up with is still kind of simple lol. thinking about adding even more flowy fabric and lots of little accessories somehow...

[c a b b a g e]

prompt: world - mysterious tales
entry:

Wherever one wanders in the world, the belief that names have power holds in every region. How this belief manifests differs. In some cultures, names give power to others who know them. In these regions, children are given true names and common names, in which true names are only shared among those you truly trust, and common names are used among all. One's common name might also be used to confuse malevolent powers and thus at times the result is unusual. As an example, a child might be given a common name of Lazy (in the hopes the child will be studious and driven) or Shoe (such a common object is surely overlooked by wicked spirits). In other cultures, names must be given with deep intention, or misfortune will befall the child. Parents will spend weeks or even months poring over meanings, fortunes, and rhythm in words, poems, and songs, all to bestow the most auspicious name upon their child in the hopes of blessing them for their entire lives. Names are incredibly personal and individual - the same name may have completely different intentions and references behind it, meaning that no two names are truly identical. These cultures are so in tune with this idea of intention that they can hear the difference between Saga and Saga.
When it comes to those less mortal, the long-living, the never-dying, the ageless, the divine, all live with the knowledge that to be known is to exist. Names are freely given and widely spread, as their names are directly tied to their life force and power. If no one remembers you, then do you truly exist? What power do you have then? They will take great pains to remember the names of all they meet. In disputes, those who are particularly malicious will do their best to erase their opponent from existence and thus erasing them.

In all places, to know one's name and to have at least one other know their name is vital. Even those with true names will ensure that they have someone they trust who keeps that knowledge. For to be nameless is to become an Ingenam - a no name. Ingenams have no identity and are regarded as cursed. They will remain outside the bounds of society until such a time as they regain their name.

word count - 387

[Chasing Dreams]

prompt: world - Identifying species
entry:
1. Violet Strangler; a small species of tree. The Violet Stranger has long tendril like leaves. Rubbery to the touch with a sharp dagger tip, this plant uses its leaves to protect its one seed ball. The plant expends all its energy to grow this large coconut-sized seed ball. Once the seed ball is fully matured it will drop and crack open. Misty, spore-like flurries spread out from the seed ball and float away with the wind. The Violet Strangler gets its name from its reaction to danger. The seed ball produces a sweet smell, attracting hungry critters. Special hairs along the inside of the leaves act as nerves, when touched the Strangler contracts its leaves inward and the dagger tips impale whatever creature dares to mess with the plant. The bright red color is a warning, don't come close.

2. Frogs Eye; this plant boasts hypnotic colored leaves with a long stemy spine. The leaves colors have a soft peach outline with a dark green inner leaf. Often used in ritual decor, such as crowns or leaf necklaces, this rare plant is a treasure to those who stumble upon it. The Frogs Eye only blooms once every 10 years. It produces a cone-like flower with a spadix on the inside. The Frogs Eye has medium length roots that grow mostly vertically underground.

3. Painted Alocasia; a beautiful large, multi-colored plant. This Alocasia has large, soft leaves that tear easily. The underside of each leaf is a dark green with yellow highlights. This delicate plant grows short, thread like roots. With a short root system, this plant is a favorite for Fables to dig up and repot at home. This is a more common plant, often found growing in large clusters. Still it is loved for its beautiful variety in appearance.

[persimmon]

prompt: character - [Expressions of Love]
fable: Galatea & Helmar
entry:

Galatea was often neglected and shunned as a young fable and still is with many of the rainmakers that she lives among. For this reason, when it comes to showing love or appreciation, Galatea wants to feel appreciated herself and to show her value. For that reason, her preferred way to show love is through acts of service. Galatea will do her best to pay attention to her loved ones' needs and will take time to research solutions or attempt to make things easier for them. It makes Galatea feel pleased when she sees other responding happily to these acts.

Additionally, relating to her being shunned when young, Galatea is not picky when it comes to expressions of love and values any. Galatea likes gifts, acts of service, touch, quality time, and words. However, among these, encouraging words does not always work the best with Galatea due to her low self-esteem. Still, Galatea does appreciate the thought. If Galatea had to pick the ones she preferred among different love languages, she might say gifts or quality time. Galatea specifically likes it when gifts are well thought out and match her aesthetic. Galatea can tell she is valued when others notice her style or listen to her interests and give gifts in turn. For quality time, Galatea sees time together is a crucial part of a relationship, and she sees time together as opposing the shunning she received when she was younger. If a loved one is not willing to set time to spend with Galatea, she may lose some trust in them and feel undervalued. Before, a lack of time together in a relationship has led Galatea to do things for the purpose of getting her partner's attention.

---

In all regards, Helmar is probably a physical person, resorting to physical fights when he has an issue with someone. For loved ones, Helmar often greets his loved ones with strong hugs. For his partners (past and present), Helmar has been known to sneak up hugs on them and enjoys being near them as much as he can. Furthermore, Helmar likes quality time with his loved ones. If Helmar actually likes someone, he wants to spend decent time with them, talking and getting to know them. Helmar believes he can show appreciation by helping to make his loved one laugh through sharing jokes and forming inside jokes that stem from the time they spend together.

For Helmar, he feels loved and appreciated when others can match the way he prefers to show appreciation (physical touch and quality time). It makes Helmar feel appreciated if others want to be near him and will reciprocate his greetings and actions. He also knows he is appreciated when others want to spend time with him and can also enjoy his presence. (465 words)

[leopia]

prompt: character - (what haunts you)
fable: royah & ambrose
entry: to dream of death [wc: 938]

[Meekins12345]

prompt: character - Jams!
fable: Elikai
entry: Arise by Flyleaf

Hold on to the world we all remember fighting for
there's some strength left in us yet

Ching! Clang! The sound of swords meeting filled the air, accompanied by the scents of blood and magic. The people of Vriven had broken through the barrier hours ago and were piling in in droves, armor on their scaley skin and swords in hand, ready to take down an enemy with an ability that they did not possess.

It should have been an easy win, except some of their own people had arranged to join with the Vrivens, their magic now against their own people.

Elikai's sword sliced a nearby tail, causing the vriven to cry out in agony. With a quick swing of his weapon, the man before him had been defeated.

"Keep your rank!" He called from his place, looking back to those he knew were listening. "Those versed in the sword arts, remain in front!"

Those who practiced magic were many, but at least they could be save in the farther ranks, behind. While all Venizians practiced their in-born magical abilities and skills, few found the sword arts necessary.

But then again, no one expected this day to come.

"Venizilia will stand! Fight the enemy with all you have! For Venizilia!"

Elikai lifted his sowrd high and others followed after, only to run at their enemies with a battle cry and noewfound resolve.

For Venizilia!"

---

Hold on to the world we all remember dying for
There's some hope left in it yet

It has been may years since Venizilia's fall, and even then, Elikai still was reminded of it evey time he looked at himself in a mirror, or in water - when he saw his own reflection. The scars told the story he would much rather be left forgotten. A memory he often wished he didn't have to remember.

He sighs and rubs his face clean, drying his hands before rubbing the towel over his face, droplets beading over his jawline.

The hope he once had for Venizilia is long gone, along with the days of it's thriving civilization. Was there hope to be found elsewhere? Even he did not know. (327 wc without lyrics)

[ipphie]

prompt: formal/festival wear
fable: pompoen
entry:

[caravant]

prompt: character - creature feature
fable: Venice
entry:

Venice has always held a soft spot for the world’s smaller creatures. She would play gently with the bugs, return baby birds to their nests, and find acorns to give to squirrels in the autumn. It made sense when she grew up to find a profession which allowed her to care for nature. As a gardener, Venice comes across many small animals in the course of her duties. None, however, are as dear to her as Little Blue.

When working in the gardens one day, Venice had noticed a small tree swallow watching her from a nearby branch. It twittered in her direction, and she gave it a light giggle in return.

“Hello there, little one. Fancy seeing you here.” She turned to face the bird, looking over its well-kept feathers. “My, what a magnificent shade of blue you are.”

The bird appeared to preen at the praise, twittering again and flapping its wings lightly.

Venice smiled, bringing her shoulder into view. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was you!” She nodded towards the bird marking in her fur.

The swallow tilted its head, then swooped down from the branch to hover by Venice’s fur, as though it were looked where she’d pointed. After a moment, it chirped and flew skyward, spinning a little circle around her head before flying off.

“Goodbye!” Venice called, her voice fond. “Fly safe!” With that, she had returned to her work.

The following day, Venice once again found the little swallow in her tree, singing brightly into the morning sun.

“What a beautiful song, Little Blue,” she called up when he paused. “Thank you for letting me hear it.” The swallow chirped at her once more before resuming, and Venice hummed along softly as she went about her work. She noticed that he followed her between the trees in the garden as she moved, but kept this knowledge quietly to herself.

The bird returned a few days later. This time, it flittered about with her, flying near her head and chirping as though they were having a conversation. Venice was delighted.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Little Blue,” she cooed. She narrated as she worked, so he might feel more involved in her tasks. Occasionally, he even rested against the horn on her head. Venice didn’t mind, of course - simply kept her head stable when she could for him.

That was two years ago, and now the gardens Venice tends have become Little Blue’s permanent home. He accompanies her every day as she works, and the two share everything together. Venice, with what little magic she has, protects Little Blue. Safe with her, the two have many years yet to share with each other.

[455 words]