[the legend leg]

username: the legend leg
fable name: Neirin
prompt: " I thought of You."

[raven [烏]]

username: raven [烏]
fable name:
prompt:

mark <3 this design is tugging at my heartstrings

[Sunniedew]

marking to watch might enter perhaps

[Joke's On You]

username: Joke's On You
fable name: Hetsu
prompt:

Gilverûn, known to be the land of the Fable species, is a vast enchanted forest made up of four seasonal kingdoms retrospectively known as the kingdoms of Aren, Ebbin, Valin, and Kovarlin. The kingdoms of spring, summer, fall, and winter. The kingdoms come together to form a strong unity in which their only concern is the fate of Gilverûn and its inhabitants.

A dense forest serves as Gilverûn's neighbor, protecting it from travelers that do not belong. The outside forest has adapted the ability to shape and change its surroundings. There is only one correct path that one must follow to a T. Otherwise, the traveler will merely get sent back to the beginning where they started, likely disoriented and confused.

Though Gilverûn now exists as a secure realm bustling with all different kinds of life, it hadn't always been that way. In fact, Gilverûn hadn't existed at all. Instead, it was just a broken down forest where it and its inhabitants were threatened by mankind. It was mankind who decided the forest was just another piece of land that had no real purpose.

Trees were cut down. Many inhabitants were forced out of house and home. The forest and its remaining inhabitants needed help if they were to survive against the wrath of mankind. And the forest helped in the only way it knew how, conjuring itself a physical form so that it may bring aid to itself and its inhabitants using the remaining strength it had left.

Hetsu was created. No one had ever seen anything like it. It was a creature that looked to be pulled right out of a children's tale. A fable. That's where the species name would later be derived from.

With the forest being so broken down, it could not conjure a form for itself without some imperfections. A small scar on its nose and a larger more noticeable scar in the middle of its back. And the most noticeable part about Hetsu was its tail, which took on the form of a snake, who also happened to hold a quite noticeable scar. The scars on Hetsu's body represented to the damage done to the forest itself while the scar on the body of the snake represented the damage done to the forests inhabitants.

Hetsu itself, even with its imperfections, was a creature of grace. From the moment it came to be, the forest knew that all its problems thus far would come to an end. With it having a physical form where it had more power, it began its work creating the part of the forest that served as a protection barrier, keeping out unwanted visitors that took the wrong path. The process of creating the protectional barrier took many months and there would be periods of time that Hetsu had to rest for days on end, but eventually, all was said and done, and the forest had its first line of protection. Now that remained was to build anew.

Thus, Hetsu began to create Gilverûn in all its glory. The forest beyond the protectional barrier was separated and shaped into the kingdoms mentioned at the beginning of this story. It was a process that also took many months due to Hetsu tiring itself out. Eventually, Gilverûn began to take shape and grow itself, which meant that Hetsu's time was running out, as the forest was now in a state where it could begin to grow and thrive on its own.

The last order of business that Hetsu had to take care of was passing down its legacy onto others to ensure that Gilverûn was able to grow and survive. That being said, it summoned an inhabitant from each retrospective kingdom to the middle of Gilverûn, where each season touched, and used the last bit of energy it had left to create the inhabitants it called upon into more creatures like itself; more Fables. After this last act, Hetsu took an entirely different shape. A large tree, sat where each season touched.

The Fables that came as a result of Hetsu's last act decided then and there that no matter how much time had elapsed since Hetsu's slumber came, that the appointed leader of each kingdom would attend a meeting once a month to discuss the going on's in Gilverûn. During many of the meetings, the leaders of each kingdom bring gifts for Hetsu, even in its current state.

Everyone knows though, if the forest were to ever experience a state of emergency, Hetsu would be there once again to help. But for now, it rests in the middle of its work. Waiting for the day its called upon by its people to help once again.

[Knickknacks]

marking!

[SpawnofMagick]

username: SpawnofMagick
fable name: Ryu
prompt:

Ryu had a lonely life. Born in a distant field at the dawn of spring alone. Neither Kirin nor Chimera, Ryu found themselves often ostracized by their peers, growing up secluded and alone. Ryu grew ashamed of themself, among the others in the vast fields where their kind roamed. They would spend many sunrises and sunsets begging the stars to relieve them of their cursed tail, pleading to the heavens they could be normal and accepted among their kind. Their serpent tail was deemed an omen of evil and became a blight on Ryu’s life.

His life was not one of sorrow, however. In his years of youth, they grew to know a stranger. A beast far larger and greater than any he’d known before. He took Ryu under his wing into a quiet, misty mountain alone. It was there he taught him many great things. Ancient magic long forgotten to the land was passed down to him, and it was there they learned not to shame his differences, but accept them, for two heads are far greater than one with the complexities of the great arcane magics. Ryu would become a great mage in that mountain, proclaiming their tail which had caused him to become an outcast his new greatest ally as his inseparable familiar Apophis.

The beast of much knowledge taught him more than magic though, and at such a young age he began their combat training. After many long years in that mountain alone with the beast, he finally learned what it’d all been for. In the beast’s withering age, a scroll was relieved from its dusty shelf. Sprawled out on the cold stone, the contents of the scroll were clear and horrifying. Beasts of terrifying strength and size were scrawled onto the paper, laying waste to the land around them and Ryu’s own kind. His mentor explained what they were, what he was. Grand Titans that had been banished to the bowels of the underworld. An outcast, the mentor that’d taught Ryu everything they knew had managed to escape in hopes of saving the creatures of Ryu’s world. The monsters were soon going to be topside and would destroy everything in their path, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Ryu entreated their mentor, how would he alone stop such a terrifying atrocity? They needed his help, he was so much more powerful than Ryu. The titanous beast dismissed Ryu’s cries. He had taught them well and entrusted Ryu and Apophis with a weight he was sure they could bear. The fabled kind would rise to meet Ryu in battle if only he showed the courage and leadership to do so. Ryu was much less certain of this. His choices were limited, and with his dying breath, Ryu’s mentor implored him to fight. Armed with nothing but courage and the knowledge they’d acquired in the mountain, they headed back down to the vast fields in preparation for a terrible battle.

The fabled were surprised by Ryu’s return. They’d grown up to be quite intimidating in both beauty and strength. A natural charisma exuded from them as they reasoned with their kind. Fables of all kinds gathered to hear Ryu’s words, though they were not quick to trust them. Years of absence had made him a stranger to his own kind. Charisma alone would not get these creatures to fight. A tremble rumbled through the ground. Time was limited. More so than anyone had realized. Great black claws ripped through the ground. The giant beast rose up, its monstrous face full of malice. Ryu lept up, scales gleaming in the harsh light of the evening sun. Ancient words escaped their lips as powerful arcane magic fired off toward the monster. Terrified screams of many fables could be heard through the fierce throws of the fight. Ryu slayed the beast, its great body falling to the ground, dispersing into nothing but ash on the wind. Ryu called to their kind, more were coming and they would need as many brave souls as they could get to fight in such a horrible battle. Slowly, one by one, fables with honor and courage began to step forward. They should not run, this was their land and they would defend it from such beasts only told of in stories.

Apophis stood tall, a beacon for the brave herd to follow as they prepared for war. Great titan tore open the earth, clambering through with horrid roars and snarls. Ryu held firm until the right moment, Apophis gave a great hiss and Ryu cried out, charging forth. The fabled followed and rallied behind their new strange leader. A creature they had distrusted all his life was now going to risk it all to save theirs. A fierce battle raged between the two factions. Fables were battered and torn, but when the last Titan fell, a great relief washed over them. Their home was safe. Many celebrations were held after the war, and Ryu was praised as a great and powerful hero. And while they enjoyed such attention and affection, they found their mind elsewhere back at the mountain. They left to head back to the mountain soon after, mourning the loss of their mentor at last. The greatest loss in the war in Ryu’s eyes.

The fabled tell stories of the battle yet still. And of the great and beautiful hero who had saved them, leading the charge. And sometimes if you look up toward the mountain, you can see him there watching over them still.

[Kamiluna]

username: Kamiluna
fable name: Oruvelous
prompt:They are not one- but two beings. Oruborus and Velen Once each mighty spirits that protected and guarded the forest as separate parties. Orubrorus a guardian of the north and Velen of the south. The two stood prideful and strong for centuries until an ignorant attack on the lands, for hundreds of years the two fought and preserved the forest and its creatures, for so long they suffered alone, weakening- until they were chased into each others uncanny path.

It was fate- as they met once more- a connection sparked and the skies themselves split open to empower their union. The two had suffered lifetimes worth of pain- learning one another entirely upon their union. Becoming a hybrid of their beauty, their pain, their past. Yet as this compounded they felt a truth spill over in them- they could see every inch of their lands. Shared knowledge of decades shared in an instant. The two turned the forest against the attackers using the ever abundant earth mana to create a sanctuary.

They engulfed their lands, casting a massive thorny, living barrier. ALl the while the root systems took to ensnaring and slowing the assault from all enemy lines. Giving them the final push they needed to call upon the forest spirits to cleanse the lands of the remaining plague.

[Ucanthandleme]

username: Ucanthandleme
fable name: Alvah
prompt:

A child's world

Pristine and untouched. She looked down at the small child, rosy cheeks, vibrant moss hair and two gold eyes filled with light and excitement. A giggle escaped their lip as they grasped onto her hand pulling her through the crowd of people. Her dear child Alvah, so childish and full of life each person she met would complement how bright he was. She looked down at her slightly protruding stomach giving a sigh. What a shame. What a shame he wasn’t her real child. She let the small child lead her twisting through the crowd, his small body attempting to protect her from knockage even though he himself was more likely to fall. Truly such a shame. But now that she has her own child he’s not needed anymore. Crouching down she whispered some words to him, his head of moss green hair nodding with her words.

Pulling him along she led him further and further from the crowd, yet he held no complaints, his naive eyes sparkling at her as she led him. A little skip in his step and a bright smile on his face as he babbled away to her, sweet calls of mother at his lips. She sneered before pulling him faster along the pathway, people getting more and more scarce. She pulled him along until they finally reached an old rickety building ‘orphanage’ carved onto it’s worn down wooden sign. The child gave a small frown looking at her in confusion. ‘Knock, knock, knock’, she tapped on the signboard until an old lady who appeared partially blind came out. Pulling along the child she shoved his hand into the old woman's hand along with a large bag of gold coins.

Stating some words she turned her back, only then the child realised something was wrong. Shouting out he struggled against the old lady who seemed weak but held him firm and steady, the shouts of mother followed her back. Annoyed by this title she sneered and with the three words ‘Not your mother’ she watched as the small child's legs gave out and as he looked at her with an empty, blank stare, tears plopping down his cheeks. Giving a humph she continued on walking while gently cradling her stomach, unable to see that the child behind her had clenched his fists looking at her with hatred in his eyes.


March on

Wishes of a promise land
The promised land does not exist
With high hopes they march
They march towards their doom
Yet they flock together
Seeking
Searching
Wishing
In the end all that is left is the bodies
The bodies of those who marched before
Yet they keep walking
Stumbiling
Falling
Scrambling
They know not of what awaits them
What awaits them in the promise land
The blissful world they dream
They crawl over other bodies to find
What promise land could be like this

He knew what the promise land foretold
Still he did not stop them
Let them march
March
March
March
March on until they realise
Realise promise land is but a dream
But he knows none of them will realise
They had already given to much
Bruised bodies
Cracked lips
Red eyes
So he would look on with blank eyes
A frozen heart
A body of steel that did not falter

Let them march
For he had long stopped
Stopped searching for the promised land
The land that would take their troubles away
It would be warm and inviting
No hunger
No fighting
No death
He knew such land did not exist now
The promise land was simply a story
A story to keep them hoping
To keep them dreaming
To keep them wishing
A story that would make existence more tolerable
But after marching for so long he never found the promise land
Instead all he saw was desperation
Hunger
Fighting
Death
All of it followed in the journey to the promised land
So he stopped walking
Ceasing his journey

Perhaps at first he found solace that he was not the one
Not the only one searching for the promised land
Yet more came searching
More and more marched through the barren land
Then he found them pitiful
Pitiful they did not realise the promise land was not real
It soon turned to anger
He shouted at them yelled at them
The promise land does not exist
They seethed through their teeth
Lies
Lies
Lies
How can the promised land not exist
They would rather believe lies
So he just watched
Watched their constant motions of searching but never finding
Beating their chests
Screaming to the skies
Not knowing why it took so long to get to the promised land
Deceiving themselves
So he watched on
Watched on as they walked to their deaths


Dancing on crystals

Alvah glanced at the glass in hand, its fragile exterior held wonderful colours, shades of blues and purple mottled together in perfect harmony. Light shone through the glass illuminating the walls with it’s patchwork pattern. Alvah held the glass closely until the light could not reach it and watched as shadows of grey crept up and the walls until they no longer held colour from before. Sneering he threw the glass to the floor letting it shatter under his foot. ‘Crunch’, he pressed his foot down onto the broken shards, smiling as he did so. ‘Crunch, crunch, crunch’, again and again his feet landed on the glass yet his face still held a smile.

Dancing, he was dancing on the shards now, his hair was wild and free, twisting to and fro with each movement. Perhaps in his head he heard a sound, a tune, a hymn, a wonderful rhythm that compelled him to dance on shards of glass. Soon his smile became wider, his movements becoming more vigorous with each step he took. Then laughter bubbled out his lip, one would find it hard to tell if he was laughing from happiness or sadness, perhaps he himself did not know. Yet he still kept dancing, his arms open wide while laughter bubbled from his lips. He could no longer feel pain, pain of the flesh.

Alvah looked down at his feet that danced on the broken glass. Why? Why could he not feel at all? He has to feel, feel the pain to know he's alive. So he kept dancing, his feet gliding along the shards back and forth. He smiled and laughed. Again and again he turned his hair slapping the sides of his face. With every turn his heart became colder and colder, his laughter became louder and louder until he himself did not know if he was laughing or screaming. Then he realized as tears fell down his cheek, he was crying. The dance had stopped. He gently wiped the tears from his cheeks but they kept falling like a stream.

Trickling down they stained his collar, salty and damp. He slumped down his hand clasping at the shards. No sting, no wound, nothing. His hand remained crystal clear so did his feet which had danced along them for the longest of time. Only the scars from before, the ones that marred his face, his body, his mind remained. Now he looked down and the wriggling entity that breached from his body, it's color and eyes mirroring his own. This was the promised land, the desolate ruins of a once great being. Once a haven a pristine white palace, where they sung under the backdrop of stained glass windows, worshipping, longing...all for this.

The creature slithered to and fro, becoming familiar with its new appearance, new body, new container. He had found the promised land, to never be effected by the world again, hunger, sickness, aging; but only him. Perhaps he still felt pain. He felt it in his heart like a fiery wound had been cut into his chest. He wished he felt the pain elsewhere, anywhere would be better than the pain he felt right now. The pain of the heart. Sneering he stood up, the tears dried on his cheeks, the glass around him now ground to dust. He smiled, this time more gentle but empty. Perhaps the pain in his heart was good. At least he knows he’s still alive. It seems now, he looked to the sky, he can finished getting rid of the pain in his heart...starting with his 'mother'.

[Toffi~]

username: Toffi~
fable name: Raizan
prompt:

The Curse of the Kirin

The sky was cloaked in dark clouds as Raizan, the golden Kirin, stepped through the ruined temple. His shimmering coat reflected even the faint light of the full moon. He had been tracking an ancient creature—one that wielded both fire and shadow.

Then it appeared: a massive Nue — half tiger, half ape — with wings made of black smoke. Its red eyes burned with fury. "You dare enter my territory?" it growled.
Raizan lifted his head proudly. "Your nightmares torment the people of this land. I will put an end to it."

Without warning, the Nue lunged. Claws flashed, and the Kirin barely dodged—but not fast enough. A deep slash burned across his flank. With a cry of pain, he struck his hooves against the ground, sending bolts of lightning from his horn that hurled the beast backward. Yet the Nue only laughed.
"You are strong, Kirin… but not strong enough."


It opened its jaws, releasing a dark green mist. Raizan felt his limbs grow heavy, his magic fading. Then came the final blow—a tail, moving like a whip, slashed across his back.
Raizan staggered, but he refused to fall. With one last surge of strength, he drove his horns into the Nue’s body. A piercing scream split the night as light and shadow clashed. Then—silence.
The Nue lay defeated, slowly dissolving into smoke. Yet its whisper remained: "You may have defeated me… but the curse will mark you forever."

Pain surged through Raizan. The wound on his back burned, spreading across his body. His golden tail twisted, darkened, shifting into something unnatural—until it became that of a serpent. His beautiful golden fur, shifting into a sickly green with only his golden sacles across the body remain—a last memento of his ones glorious appearance.

Exhausted, Raizan sank to the ground, his breath shallow. He had won. But at what cost?
Since that day, he avoids humans, hiding in the mountains, for he knows: the Nue’s curse still lives within him.

[literal.swag.]

username: literal.swag.
fable name: ajal

arabic for “dying hour” or “hour of death” – associated with fate, destiny, and other things that you can't escape.
prompt: tldr; ajal is the soul of a corrupt prince, cormac, reborn to atone for his sins. his snake counterpart is a physical manifestation of the forest's soul/spirit to make sure he follows his fate and purpose in this life.


ajal is woven from fearful folklores and rampant rumors, of shared whispers and stolen history. his existence is an enigma; his origin comprised of nothing but murky opinions and clouded confusion. murmurs scrawl across documents, documenting the poisoned legacy of a darkened heir, exiled to the woods he sought to tame and reign over in his thirst for power.

the name cormac – son of corruption – grew sour in the mouths of many, the hateful epithet of the corrupted heir. within their house, cormac whispered lies and false truths into the ears of many, both for entertainment and his own personal gain. the young fable craved power, to be the ultimate monarch, ruling over more than just his own house – all of the houses. in his search for power, cormac had left ash and flames in his wake, snaking his way up the ladder, worming his way into the heart and mind of his pitiful father, the head of the house. he played puppetmaster for a long while, a dark shadow looming behind his father, whispering sickly sweet deception to who knew no better. many moons later, beneath one far too bright, his scheme was brought to light. rose colored glasses discarded, the honey-coated facade of his words and actions melted to reveal the bitter twang of jealousy and greed. yet it was far too late – cormac had been moving in secret, hiding behind the blind faith and trust his father put in him. rallying a devoted group of followers, conning his father into attacking the house of the woods, poisoning the minds of many with whatever he wanted them to believe as truths.

he desired the woods, the home of many of the land’s valuables. it housed a myriad of treasures; from metals to materials to powerful creatures roaming the land. if he could rule it, he could rule many. cormac did not care for the animals of the forest, viewing them as mere objects – pawns in his pursuit of power. he also found them quite annoying; having to deal with not only forming a bond with them first before they became useful, but also catering to their needs and wants, to put up with their own thoughts and emotions. it was exhausting and, to cormac, quite unnecessary. what if there was a way to overpower them, whether the bond was formed or not, to improve the natural creatures, or to even create something simply better. something that did not have its own thoughts or desires, something that would do what it was told without question. cormac spread the idea to his devoted followers, who had grown in both numbers and outreach. members from multiple houses would attend his secret services listening to him preach and lament, some of those belonging to the house of the woods. this would forever change the woods – leading to the creation of something horrid, something unable to be conjured even in nightmares. leading to the deterioration of the woods itself and the house within it. war broke out over his malevolent desires, his father moving to conquer the house of the woods based off lies spewed to him from his trusted heir and confidant.

when his ruse was uncovered he was banished to the forest he helped destroy. forced to wander the dead and darkened sectors of the woodland. it was there that he faced his own demise, one that is still a mystery, lost from history to the steady trudge of time. the woodland he sought to destroy was living, even if not in the traditional sense. it felt the pain of the timber of trees, of the crushing of a daisy. it felt the pain of the passing of one of its inhabitants. the soul of the forest weeped for its steady decline, all at the hands of a pathetic avaricious heir.

————————

many years passed, the forest only growing more and more hopeless. that was until a child was born, one of moss and rust and ivory, coat a painted scenery of what the forest once had been. a child borne of the name ajal, who seemed to house the soul of that who had once destroyed the home he now resembled. the forest knew this, and a part of it had been reborn with the new child, taking the place of what could have been his tail. it presented itself as a snake, a creature of the forest often viewed as a bad omen, and as a resemblance of the actions of his past life. it was there to help him atone for his sins, the purpose of his new life, and to act as eyes of the soul of the forest.

while it may irritate ajal, he follows his purpose, knowing that even he cannot deny fate. between his job as a history keeper, ajal spends his days reluctantly attempting to find a way to fix the forest he had helped destroy. no fable knows of his origin, he seemed to simply appear one day, emerging from the forest a fully grown fable with seemingly endless knowledge.