[roelian]

Staff Litter

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What’s this?? Samael doing a staff kalon for once? Okekaki beat me up and took my lunch money, so you get this guy in their full Crunchy-PNG form! I hope you guys enjoy this kalon as much as I did making them! Unedited tail and shine because I unironically love the look so much.



[nr] sclera color
[s] hair
[c] fur
[u] ears

This kalon lost something, tell me what it is.
What changed when they lost it?
How will this lost shape the future?

Feel free to interpret however you wish! Can be physical items or ideas.
Please try to limit word count to <500 words, but I will not penalize if you go over!
Art is fine, but limited to 3 pieces please!
Any extras are also allowed, please just have fun!

Code: Select all

[b]username + ID #[/b]
[b]kalon name[/b] (optional)
[b]what did they lose?[/b]

Ends 20 Dec 2025 at rollover into the 21st

[Exitium]

username + ID # Exitium + 626371
kalon name Thelma
what did they lose? wip

[sobble]

username + ID # Sobble + 918599
kalon name Mokrani
what did they lose?

Mokrani’s shuffling pawsteps lurched to a halt, his vision obscuring even the division between earth and sky. Mokrani chortled, a dry and stilted laugh, rattling as air escaped between parched lips. This was to be his fate, a solitary and insignificant snuffing out of a failing candle wick. Mokrani’s legs buckled and gave way beneath him, and as he lay soundlessly, even the sharp pains of his breath subsided. Mokrani turned his gaze out towards the horizon, his mind already settling into the clouded comfort of reminisce. He was sure, in some grief-laden and aching part of him, that this was what was right. What was deserved.

Mokrani dredged memory to the forefront of his consciousness. It was easy, a path well-trodden and oft-tended, a reminder that his guilt would not absolve him – that the acrid smell of rust and blood, the bile of anger and desperation clinging so heavily to his fur, the sourness of words best left unspoken – are all he has.

The day Mokrani left, he forfeited any right to humanity, redemption, a life without guilt. Fitting, then, that Mokrani would unwittingly choose a resting place on the threshold of all those he betrayed that day.

Mokrani’s untrained gaze drifted to the horizon again. Delirium played at the edges of his mind, casting shadowed and inconstant figures across his vision. Almost as if something moved across the barren land. Mokrani knew better than to believe the mirage before him, screwing his eyes shut as reason and thought began to fall effortlessly away from him.



Mokrani startled from a dream, the familiar pit of dread settling into his stomach as the night terror faded. But that wasn’t right - this isn’t right. He should be dead.

Mokrani’s relief was momentary - swiftly replaced by the gall of panic leaping into his throat. Why had he lived? Surely the figure on the horizon was not real —

Mokrani’s stunned murmurations were interrupted by the groan of floorboards. His gaze naturally followed.
“I— Ishmael? That’s not you, is it?”

Mokrani’s voice, warbling and hoarse, carried meekly across the room. He almost sounded hopeful. Gods, and he was the one to have left Ishmael in such a state.

“In the flesh.” The opposite kalon responded in kind, flashing a toothy grin as they strode across the room.

“You sound awful Mokrani. You're lucky you tried to die on my doorstep, you know.”

Mokrani slumped back down into the cot, a renewed horror clawing through his consciousness. Ishmael didn’t respond, helping Mokrani sit up and to bringing water to his lips.

“You ought to forgive yourself, you know. It’s been years. Ain’t anything gonna change the past.”
A few rasping breaths from Mokrani - questionably, a sob - as Ishmael sets the pitcher down with a gentle clink.
“I forgave you a long time ago anyhow. Didn’t think either of us made it out… Hells, maybe some part of us really didn’t.”

Ishmael - a hireclaw Mokrani remembered as cunning, wily and roguish - went through the motions now with a strange and resolute gentleness. A subdued sort of melancholy.

“Why?” It was all Mokrani could manage, all he could think.

“Why not?” Ishmael responded simply.

“I left you. I was selfish, and cruel, and I turned you out to save myself. You trusted me, I know it. I know I shouldn’t have let you get so close — it’s not what hire-claws do — We eat our young and serve no one but ourselves—”
Mokrani’s sagging form doubled over, hacking and drawing in deep, ragged breaths.

“But I let you follow me down a road I knew I would leave you at the bottom of. But you. You looked so hurt, so lost when I did it. You could have been a good man, I could have driven you away. Instead you took the fall for a lifetime of grievances you didn’t commit…” Mokrani exhales, a hefty sigh as his strength dwindles once more.

“I couldn’t forget the way you looked at me. I’ve spent years looking for a way to atone. There needs to be something. There has to be a lesson to learn, a price to be paid, a penance served. If you forgive me so easily I will have only wronged you further.”

Ishmael, who had been hovering at the bedside silently, opened his mouth to protest.

Mokrani held up a trembling paw, voice trailing to a whisper. “You cannot forgive me, you cannot take away my duty to repent… Please. I think this grief, this shame, is all I have left.”

Mokrani had exhausted himself wholly, and again drifted into unconsciousness, troubled. Who was he, underneath years spent in denial of his own betterment, underneath the guilt of his sins? If you stripped him of the shame, would you still find him at its core?


permission was given to go over 500 <3

[Griff]

username + ID # Griff 254592
kalon name Forrest
what did they lose?

Forrest blinked, as they stared into the sky."I cannot remember..." they found themselves saying, and in an instant the spell that they had been working on dissipated. They found themselves staring at their surroundings. There was no mistaking the terrified expressions of those around him. Why did they look like they were about to die? What had he been doing?

He looked towards the nearby gathered royals, who had covered themselves in magical barriers. Fallen knights could be seen scattered around them, or mages spent of energy that stared at him with a nervous fear. Forrest blinked again, turning his attention towards the small children who were shaking beside their parents. He looked towards each for a clue, some sort of indication.

"What am...where... what is going on here?" he finally asked, as though saying the words out loud might grant him clarity. It did not, but the gathered crowd began to whisper.

"Forrest? Are you there?" asked a small voice. He looked down to see a much smaller kalon, a child, looking up at him with hope.

"O-of course. Where else would I be?" he asked, even more confused.

"Good...I am glad. We all missed you Brother..." And as she spoke the words she fell to the floor, lifeless. Brother?!? His ears twitched back, panic setting in. He did not know who any of these people were, not even her? Why did she just...?!?

He heard an echo of a memory in his mind, then. "All magic has a price." What had she done that would beg for such a price? What had she...

"Hey! Hey wake up! I have so many questions for you!" But she never did. That day, Forrest lost both his memories and his sister. But the worst part was that he did not know what led to that point, why she smiled even as she died. What the world however knew was that a great threat had been dispelled that day, an evil which needed a host to thrive. Forrest, for their part, found themselves seeking answers that none seemed to want to give. What memories had he lost? Who had he been? He wanted to know... what had been so important that his sister died to bring him back? Where had he been?

What he did not realize was that the path he was walking was a dangerous one, and perhaps some things are better left lost. (408)

[Elliad.]

username + ID # Elliad + 336547
kalon name Max
what did they lose?

Crowds filled the hall as Max peaked from behind the curtain, a gulp cascading down his neck as each seat of the big tent filled up.

"Good luck on your first show," Tulip offered, patting him on the back as she ran past, batons filling her paws.

"Don't be so full of yourself," Max whispered to himself, turning his stares away from the crowd, desperate to not count every face that he saw. "They are not here to see you - its a show they want."

The ringmaster ran out, cane in the air as he introduces the acts to come, the crowds cheers growing louder.

Max counts the passing acts, as a clamminess coats his paws.

As the final act before him passes, Max nods to himself, turning to the ladders that ascend to the heavens, climbing up. A misplaced paw forsaken by tremors, send him lurching down for a step before he rights himself. "Come on, you've got this."

The boy stands at the top of the tightrope, looking ahead, the cheers of the crowd echoing through his head as the beam of a light focuses solely on him. The first step is flawless, aside from that shake, as he attempted to drown out the nerves, closing his eyes as he began counting each step taken.

One. Two. Three. Fifteen. His eyes slammed open, a leg going back. He was half way across. How did that happen? When did that happen? He looked down, the ground loomed in the distance, further away with each glance, as Max's gaze was brought back up.

With a trembled step, he went forward. Sixteen. Sevent-

He stumbled, throwing his arms out to catch him but there was nothing there. Max tilted over the edge of the tightrope, desperately grabbing it to keep himself from falling, wrapping his legs around it for extra security.

"Help!" He shouted, sweat dripping as he tried to raise his grip on the rope with limited success.

"Let go!"

"No," he shouted back. "I don't want to fall!"

But as his grip slackened, there was only one way to go. He fell down, paws raised desperately in an attempt to cling on to something that was not there.

He descended sharply, slamming his eyes shut preparing for the sharp pain of landing that never comes. Instead he bounces up, one eye peaking open as he lets out a sigh of relief. The mesh of a net against his back.

---

"Again," his coach snarled, as Max's legs wobbled across the tightrope.

A net was extended underfoot, ready to catch him in a moment's grace, and as Max took two steps way from the stable ledge, one wrong placed foot sent him tumbling down,

"Take a break," the ringmaster, Roman, said to his coach, ushering him out of the room as he walked over to the net, helping Max down. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Max."

"How can I be here if I can't even do my job."

Roman let out a sigh, sitting down beside the boy, curling his tail around him. "You just had a moment of fear. We all have them."

"Really?"

"Sure, my first show, I forgot half my jokes! I ended up stuttering through my set. Lets just say, the ringmaster at the time was not the best bit pleased."

"What if I can't perform at the next show?" Max asked, his ears drooping as he peaked at Roman through tear-soaked lashes.

"We're family here, Max, we've got you're back. You'll regain your confidence, and be back up there when you're ready."

"What if I am never ready?"

"You will be, eventually. And when you are, we will be right there with you."

[roelian]

winner winner!

Thank you guys for entering! I had a lot of fun reading over the forms but I just kept coming back to one in particular. I think you just know me well enough by now to know that Im such a sucker for angst and adventure, it really hits the spot so hard

For that, this kalon is going to
sobble

HMs are being awarded to Elliad and Griff as well!

[sobble]

OH SAM I AM RUNNING AROUND IN CIRCLES!!! I have so many Ideas and art I was too busy to make..... i rub my hands together like an evil fly.... I've been thinking abt Mokrani this whole time lol

and congrats to Griff and Elliad on hms! Griff i really enjoyed the ambiguity of your story, and how that contrasted with the weight of what had happened