[bezel]

owner: messmer
name: Wonder

base/fur: custom
horn: custom
wings: lg. feathered
ears: custom
tail: long feathered

[beeqlass]

mark

[ExVenor]

fable name:
answer:

[PleaserOfCrowds]

Mark!!

[koegami]

fable name: Aumore
answer: manticore [wip i'll be back later with a desc]

[sammybenny]

Mark!

[feverrr]

mark !

[TheSongOfTheStars]

fable name: Marquilis
answer: wip!

[gardog]

fable name:
Juno
answer:
Juno has come across a Mlep that seems to be very hungry! Unfortunately for Juno, the Mlep seems interested in nomming them up!

Juno uses DEFENSIVE STANCE for their first move. They are ready for action!

Mlep uses MLEM. Juno's attack goes down!

Juno uses MAGIC BLAST. It's a hit!

Mlep decides there must be easier prey nearby and runs away!

Mlep gets away successfully!

Our hero continues on their journey on the now Mlep-less path.

Thank goodness!


(click image for full size (warning: very large))

The winner may keep my art, just credit my Toyhou.se @gardog
They may also keep the Mlep creature as a character, if they wish

[kyeza]

edited to copy paste from the doc, as i didn't want this to get buried at the bottom of the page! (proof)

fable name: lèoryth
answer:


the amalgamation was what they called it.

it was that which creaked and clanked in the night, trudging on, never still, forever in search of something.

or someone.

it was unnatural, there was no doubt about that. an eldritch presence that haunts the wyrmwood, slinking between the shadows and twisting trunks, preying on weary travelers.

rest your eyes but for a moment, its garbled voice calls. let the darkness embrace you.

they say that should you hear its muffled creaking and clanking, it's already too late. you can run and you can hide, but once it's on your scent it'll never cease.

its appearance is an ambiguity, lest you've laid eyes on it yourself—and you'd best hope you haven't, as those who meet its gaze are doomed to be hunted to the ends of the earth. still, none who have survived a sighting seem to concur on its features; some claim it has ram horns and cloven feet, while others say it flaunted wings of withered foliage and more. it is believed, however, to be composed of a mixture of materials: warped wood and mangled metal and battered stone melding into a true abomination.

and a carnivorous one at that.

no one was sure when exactly it'd manifested or where from, but there was certainly speculation. those who crafted and counted on constructs—fable-made creations in the shapes of various creatures, forged from the living essence within certain natural materials—in their day to day lives believed it to be a rogue construct, one which had disavowed its master and been reclaimed by the wilderness.

others, however, disagreed. those vehemently against the existence of constructs claimed that it was what came of such unnatural tampering with the ways of the world, a misshapen mass of inanimate animation. they said that its kind should not exist in the first place and those who had created them brought this beast upon themselves with their hubris.

political views aside, most seem to agree on one thing: it couldn't possibly be capable of true thought. but any who find themselves unlucky enough to cross paths with it will tell you otherwise.

… or they would, if any lived to tell the tale.



___________________


“into the wyrmwood? are you mad?!” tawny ears flatten to feathered locks as a dawn-hued fable yelps in alarm, clutching their satchel closely.

the other nods sheepishly. “lèoryth, wait—!” she cries out as the curator begins to back away. “just hear me out, would you?”

“i've heard you out, tallyh, and this is- is- pure lunacy! surely you don't expect me to waltz right past the beast's nose and come back alive with your—?”

“i'll pay double,” she interrupts, meeting their gaze with steadfast resolve. “triple, even. i need this, lèoryth. please.”

they sputter for a moment, fiddling with the flaps of their satchel. “w-well, uh. i suppose exceptions can be made… for the right price.” a dismal sigh escapes them. of course this is the one task she'd be set on. of course.

“thank you, truly.”


___________________


how lèoryth had gotten roped into this situation was beyond them.

but alas, business called, and towards the woods they trekked. it was simple enough, they supposed; all they had to do was cross the very edge of the treeline, grab what they needed, and get out. easy… right?

they'd never once told a soul this, but they had in fact been in the wyrmwood before.

it was a fading memory, one from the earliest days of their childhood. it should have danced on the brink of oblivion by now, but it lingered still like no other. they'd ventured in when they were young and foolish, unaware of the danger beyond, lurking in the shadows.

it hadn’t made itself known until they were well past the treeline. and then, all of a sudden, there was a snap. just a twig, surely?

the shuffling said otherwise.

it was then that it’d emerged from the foliage, towering above them. the memory was long-clouded by terror, but one thing remained clear. its eyes, they were forever burned into their memory. there was a dangerous beauty in them, buried beneath the fiery glow. and there was something different about the way it looked at them, too. something more, something no one had ever mentioned.

(it, too, was alive.)

and then it broke their gaze, turning on its heel with the creaking of wood and plodding away. previously frozen in fear, lèoryth didn't question this incredibly odd encounter. they'd taken the opportunity and ran. and they never looked back.

(but if they had, they'd have seen twin flames watching their retreat.)

they'd stayed away from the forest since, blocking the memory out as best they could.

(but those eyes, they haunted them day and night.)

this time, though, they had no choice. but it'd be quick. it'd be fine. lèoryth squeezes the leather strap on their satchel for one last burst of confidence before taking that terrifying first step into the shadows of the wyrmwood. and nothing comes out to get them. no horrifying creatures of the night, no shuffling or stomping or anything of the sort. there was quite literally no noise, in fact. it was eerily quiet.

but they hadn't been eaten alive just yet, so surely it was fine. surely.

(it was fine, it was fine, it was fine, was it not?)

(but it knew.)

(it could sense them from a mile away, and it knew. it had been waiting for this very moment since the day they'd first met.)

(and it was coming.)

and it was fine, truly. or at least it was… until it wasn't. lèoryth had been so absorbed in searching for the items they needed so they could turn and flee that they’d entirely forgotten to pay attention to the silence.

and that was when the creaking stopped.

wait, they jolt, glancing around frantically, terror creeping in tendrils, writhing forth and threatening to suffocate them. what creaking?

it was then that they saw it.

across the beaten, stone-strewn dirt path, it stood, unblinking. waiting. their heartbeat races in their chest. shrouded in shadow and foliage camouflage was its towering figure, a mass of metal and lumber and wrongfulness. but something was different, once again.

though fear pounded through their very being and coursed through their blood, lèoryth realized it hadn't actually made a move just yet.

it was simply watching. waiting for something.

(for you.)

(it had always been you.)

something compels them to take a step forward, out of the brush. and then another, and another. before they know it, they’re within arms reach of it.

and they reach out.

… but it doesn't move.

it doesn't move, doesn't even flinch, doesn’t react in the slightest. it just watches. its eyes glow churning amber, like magma, threatening to swallow them whole in its flames, but the creature doesn't move.

their touch smolders beneath their golden hoof, radiating an aura of something… unusual.

bonding with a construct had always been nothing more than a fantasy to lèoryth. that golden glow would never be theirs; they'd never had the chance and they never would—or so they thought. but this felt different. there was something fundamentally wrong here, something unprecedented. this creature, it lived, it breathed, and it had chosen them itself.

that was something of fairytales.

but here they were, face to face with the amalgamation itself, what should be a snarling beast that'd torn them apart. they shouldn't even be here to tell this tale.

(and yet they were.)

(and they would be, time and time again.)

(after all, it was always you.)