Listen Up My Little Gnomelings

Gnome folklore for the kotlcopedia

[hyacinthsfolklore]

This blog is dedicated to posting the stories I write in the kotlcopedia discord. I might post sporadically cuz the posts go to discord, a writing app, and finally here.

Also these are slightly edited because I just word vomit on discord and then reread it to correct any blaring grammar crimes

I am now only posting one story a day so I don’t stay up until 2 writing these

My main is @dadwinstan

[hyacinthsfolklore]

the two sisters: rewritten

In the times long ago, away from Serenvale or any colony, lived two sisters. Belladonna and Saffron they were named, which they bore dutifully. They tended their small forest for many cycles of the moon and seasons which passed.

Their days were spent neither idly nor restlessly. The sisters kept mind of what they must, but did not fret. It was this way that they lived until wagon tracks were carved into the soft ground of their home.

Travelers had come to their woods, nameless and heedless. Neither of the sisters saw their faces, cloaked in heavy wool. They advanced in a line, one caravan after another, a never ending snake of creaking wood and canvas. It was Belladonna who heard the invader’s shouts as they slew the friends which were so dear to her. Beyond even the senseless killing, the strangers wore the skin of any animal they found. The meat was poked with sticks and held over small flames.

It was Saffron who saw the circle of barren ground left by their strange fire rituals. Stray embers lit up grass and small ferns, feeding a blaze which ravaged the very home they so loved. Burned any which did not run quick enough away.

Smoke filled the air, choking the survivors of the hot plague. Soot coated the ground, turning the brown and green a dull gray. Even after the strange figures had moved beyond the sisters’ home, the scars would not heal. Even they were not spared. Saffron had grown sick from the dirtiness that had seeped into them. She had no relief from that which caused it, as even then she could not abandon that which she protected.

So Belladonna carefully tended to her ailing body. She was not foolish enough to hope for recovery, but easing her sister’s pains was enough. It was a debt owed to whom she had loved for so long.

When the time for returning to the earth began, Belladonna cleared a spot, rid of the filth that still clung to her. Saffron was laid out for her shifting to begin. The last night belladonna would see her ever faithful companion’s face, she swore revenge.

Never again would a being such as that bring such destruction to her home. She would not allow for it to happen, when she had already failed so. Anyone who dared to come to her home would have to beware of that which already dwelled.

Belladonna was much sustained by that rage which now ran through her. There was no sun she could see, no grass she could feel. Without it, she would’ve had nothing to live for, nothing to fuel her.

And yet, even that could not change the fact her home was much hurt. She had failed in her great task. There was nothing left for her. So she too must shift and return to that which she stood upon.

At her weakest, she managed to crawl to beside where her sister now grew. The weak sun warmed her leaves as berries sprouted from her. Her mind faded and she was released.

She was not free from her anger even as she was from herself. The berries which grew were filled with a deadly poison. Even in a world much changed they punish hungry fools.

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Her gray garden

Rue loved her garden, the beauty of it unrivaled. The flowers gracefully twisted around their gray mounts. Colors bloomed against the drab background. Her ancient hands gently caressed the brown earth, the forever rich soil giving way to her grasp. How beautiful that garden was, where even the animals would stop and bow their heads in reverence. She tended to that garden tirelessly, and the plants responded to her dedication. They flourished, reaching toward the gentle sun. She sang and danced, guiding the plants through an ancient melody that hummed throughout the world. The great stone spires that jutted from the ground were laced in rainbow hues. Sometimes there were other hands digging into the soil, rough and careless. They dug large holes, soon to be filled with the forgotten. Lifeless forms were shoved into the soft dirt, covered with a coat of earth. When the humans came, rue hid. Her eyes never left the bodies, their blue eyes embedding themself into her mind. The eyes were filled with different things, anger, acceptance, sadness, hope, grief. Never joy, that was something they had been robbed of. She saw so many of those faces, some so young they would fail to understand loss. Yet they had to, having lost the most precious thing of all. Her gaze never faltered, remembering everything she could about those who were already faceless. Rage sparked in her. How dare those that sit atop a crystal throne leave their dead abandoned, left to be buried by those ignorant to the life they honored. She never dared show herself to humans, even when they showed more kindness than flesh and blood ever did. Humans would visit occasionally, adding not to the dead but to the memories. Still, the gawkers gave not the kindness the fallen deserved. So rue did. She covered the stone graves in colors. She sang lullabies to those locked in eternal slumber. Every moment, every breath was given in memory. She sang and danced, her voice calling out to those who had held on to the one thing they had left. The ones whose grips had been wrenched from something they fought every moment to keep hold of. They were forgotten by all but her. Still, the fallen would live forever in her garden. A place full of life dedicated to honoring the dead.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

An Unlikely Trio

Scarect eyed the goblin warrior, and drew his blade. The other figure returned the gesture, and lunged at Scarect. The two engaged in combat for several minutes, various fluids coating their bodies. They only paused their fatal dance,when they heard a small crash sound out from the forest floor. They turned their heads and saw the limp figure of a young gnome girl. She had fallen from the tree above her, which had sheltered her from view. They both approached her, wordlessly agreeing on a temporary truce. The goblin gently prodded the girl several times, each attempt as fruitless as the last. Scarect gently scooped up the girl, and examined her face. A large scratch ran from her eye to her cheek, blood already clotting up over it. The goblin stood a few strides away from them, ready to attack at any sign of aggression against the girl. Scarect ignored him and started carrying the fragile figure home. The goblin followed close behind, still wary of the ogre. They reached the humble estate, and Scarect led them to the the medicine cabinet. He tended to her wounds and waited for her to wake up. To fill the silence, the goblin started making polite conversation. It was awkward for a while, but soon became relaxed. He learned the goblin’s name was Ares. The conversation went on for a while, about everything and nothing. The girl stirred, and they froze in anticipation. Her eyes fluttered, and she pushed herself upright. She took in her surroundings and started panicking. Both of them rushed to calm her down, and were successful after a couple moments. Ares explained what had happened in a calm voice. He asked her what her name was. She whispered something that sounded like Iris. He smiled and told her it was a very pretty name. That made her beam, and she seemed slightly more relaxed. Scarect asked her why she was in the forest. She said it was because she was visiting her parent’s grave. Guilt washed over the two men. Both of them were more determined than ever to make her feel comfortable. Ares went to grab a blanket, and Scarect started making her soup. She seemed content to watch as they made her as comfortable as possible. A couple days passed in a blur. Iris’s wounds disappeared almost completely. Even though neither of them would admit it, the two men had grown quite used to the other’s company. Their little fight, nothing but a distant memory. A feeling settled over the trio, something that could only be described as home.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

Marigolds

There was a young girl named Vesa. Her music filled the plants and people of her the colony woodnote with joy. She played a long reed flute that rang out high and clear. The flowers would reach towards the sun she would sing the praises of. Nothing who heard her music would walk away without a lighter heart. Little children would dance around her as she played. As she grew older her notes grew clearer and so did her beauty. She gained many admirers much to the disapproval of some elders, who thought lazing around with a flute made her full of herself. Even so, no admirer was stronger than a gentle young man named salix.He would sing along to her playing in perfect harmony. His calm and steady voice completing the already enchanting song. As they grew into adults, marriage became a topic of conversation. They both looked away shyly when it was mentioned. Salix had snuck as many moments alone with her as he could. While Vesa was not unaware of his affections, she was never quite sure how to respond. He knew he would need to take a more direct approach. He carefully selected seeds from three different plants to create a hybrid. He named the golden flowers marigolds. With a perfect marriage gift, he started planning something no one in the colony would ever forget. The day had finally arrived, and everything was in place. He was filled with an unusual amount of nervous energy. When Vesa asked about it, he passed it off as nerves about the harvest festival. Their performance could doom the entire celebration. Vesa didn’t believe him for a second but let him go out of kindness. As the sun sank lower across the horizon his anxiety only grew. Finally, the time for the performance had arrived. They first sang of the creation, then other traditional songs. This went on until their throats were sore. Finally he declared he was going to sing a song for someone very special. He began the marriage song and sang it so sweetly even the thorns of a rose bush would have dulled upon hearing it. He then gifted her with a flower crown of marigolds. She of course joyfully accepted and always kept a patch of marigolds wherever she lived. Marigold flower crowns have been given as a sign of love ever since.

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A Warrior’s Heart

Nelda was curled into a ball, his body trembling. A couple hours ago, he had fallen into a deep pit. The sun was sinking lower, and he was no closer to escaping. He had completely given up hope, when he heard loud footsteps. He frantically backed into one of the corners. A large goblin warrior peered over the edge of the pit. Nelda pushed against the corner harder and whimpered. The goblin continued to stare curiously at the petite figured. Nelda’s panic grew as the moments passed by. He flinched, as he was pulled up by his overall straps. He was frozen in fear, knowing very well how easily he could be thrown back into the pit. The goblin gently set him onto the ground. Nelda refused to open his eyes, afraid of what he would find if he did. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he took a step back. The grip tightened, as his feet found nothing but air. He was shoved back onto solid ground. Two hands gripped his shoulders this time, guiding him to a golden house. He was too tired to bother resisting. He was picked up, and placed onto a giant chair. Tears blurred his vision, leaving him completely powerless. He was startled by fingers rubbing circles on his back. The touch was gentle but no less overwhelming. He calmed down after a few minutes, finally having a chance to breathe properly. A mix of fresh fruits was placed in front of him, which he ate gratefully. He finally realized the exact circumstances he found himself in. He gulped, and forced himself to exchange polite greetings with her. His inter species vocabulary was sparse but he made it work. He learned her name was Artemis, which he had to force himself not to shorten. He spent several days at her house and slowly adjusted to living there. One morning, he had a nightmare. He woke up screaming Arty and thrashing around. She was forced to pin his limbs down. They both silently agreed that was never gonna happen again. Nelda kept out of the way whenever guests were around. It took two years for Nelda to finally call her mom. They were making dinner, and a knife carved a large gash into his hand. Tears welled in his eyes, and he called for his mom. She carefully inspected the cut and gently bandaged it up. Neither of them mentioned the mom comment, but it was far from forgotten. In that moment both of them knew that everything they had worked for was worth it.

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Jonquille was walking through the forest, when she heard crying. She followed the anguished sound until she came upon a bush. Behind the bush, was a little boy huddled in on himself. He couldn’t be more than 12 years old. His cheeks were tear stained, and his body was shaking with sobs. She scooped him up and carried him to her hut. Instead of resisting, he buried his head into her chest and clung to her desperately. When they arrived, she set him on her bed. Only then, did she get a chance to look at him. Panic washed over her, as she realized what she had done. She had brought an ogre into her home. Her reaction must have scared the boy, because he stumbled back into a corner. That sobered her, and she returned to her original mission. She asked what his name was. He looked at her distrustfully, before muttering Cas. She gave him her name and asked why he was crying. His mouth clamped shut, he refused to talk for several hours. She made stew and set it in front of him. He took the food hesitantly, but dug in after tasting it. She watched him, and contemplated what she should do about the problem. She knew the elders would not approve of having an ogre in their colony. She decided that whatever she had to do to keep her new son, was worth it. He finished eating and told her he was tired. She let him use her bed and set about making one specially for him. She got quizzical looks but chose to ignore them. She placed the bed on the wall next to her’s. She spent the next few days caring for him, and people talked. Eventually, the elders confronted her about her suspicious behavior. She confessed to what she had done, and they were stunned. She had always been an obedient child. They didn’t understand how she could’ve done something this horrible. They demanded she get rid of the creature. She begged them to let him stay. They said they would consider it if they met the beast. She led them to her hut and opened the door silently. She gently roused the sleeping boy. He was scared by the sudden crowd of people, and she had to reassure him he wasn’t in trouble. This softened the hearts of the elders but wasn’t enough to convince them. They talked to the boy, quizzing him on certain topics. He answered calmly but grew more agitated as the interrogation went on. The elders were eventually satisfied, and agreed to let him stay. Jonquille returned to her duties and brought him along. The others in her colony were not quick to accept him. The constant questions exhausted her. He noticed every stare and whisper. He stayed silent for fear of being kicked out. She eventually sent him to play with the children. When they were both back at home he told her the other children wouldn’t play with him. She started to tell him stories. These stories captivated him. He wanted to hear more, but she said he would have wait until the caretaker told them to all the children. He went back, eager to hear the stories. Overtime, the children came to accept him. They never did understand what made him bad, only that their parents didn’t like him. He learned how to care for the world around him, even without hearing it’s song. She watched proudly as he grew up. The little boy she rescued, now a gentle young man.

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Gladiolus grew up with the beauty of nature. Everyday she saw it all around her,from the grass in the ground to the clouds in the sky. She sang and danced in the world’s gentle embrace. Growing up with elves disconnected her from the thing she loved most. She was blinded from the cruelties of nature. She saw the hare hopping through the grass, but missed the wolf tearing the same rabbit apart. She was led to believe nature was innocent, merciful, gentle, peaceful. Gladiolus was blinded to nature’s true beauty, replacing it with a version that suited her perception. A tragedy struck the manor, what it was no one dares say. She fled to her place of comfort. Now alone, she was aware of every shadow in the woods. Even the sound of a falling acorn, would make her flinch. She made a makeshift shelter out of fallen branches. Her first night was sleepless, her being hyper aware of every danger she was exposed too. To her relief, she lived to another sunrise. She decided ensuring her immediate survival should be a top priority. She reinforced her shelter, adding a side entrance only she could enter. She was always alert, prepared for a threat as soon as it appeared. The animals came to know her, always keeping a respectful distance from her. She learned how to brand her own skin, depicting predators catching their prey. Humans explored the forest, determined to fight against the nature of the world. They came with pistols, robbing the animals of an honorable death. They forced themselves to be victors. Elven children would frolic through the tees. They were almost afraid of the life they saw around them. They didn’t dare break even the smallest branch. They saw themselves as so separate from the world, they couldn’t understand how cruel it could be. Gladiolus watched them, understanding why they could never embrace the world’s true value. They saw themselves as above nature, not apart of it. They would never know that nature was a careful balance. Humans feared nature and tried to destroy it. Elves revered and yet tried to control it. They never thought to ask does the snake not deserve to eat as the much as the mouse deserves to live.

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Izara wondered where Elizabeth was. It was unusual for her to be this late. They had met a couple of years ago. There was a girl sitting in the forest, apple in hand. She appeared human, but looks could be deceiving. Izara walked towards her, and the girl tensed. She wasn’t afraid, more weary. She acted as though something like Izara had attacked her. Izara saw a sheath tied to her hip. Izara approached cautiously, trying to avoid the weapon being drawn. She managed to sit down successfully. The most curious thing about her wasn’t her weapon or gaze, it was how the grass reached for her feet. It wrapped around her feet of its own accord. Upon closer inspection she couldn’t be more than 24 years old. Izara instantly felt protective of the young girl. She called to the trees, and they formed a shady roof over them. This surprised the girl, who seemed to think she was the only person with her ability. A whisper came from the trees. “who are you”, they called. Izara answered and returned the question. The trees responded with Elizabeth. The two talked through the language of the trees. As the questions were asked and received, Elizabeth seemed to relax. Her eyes drooped and she fought to stay awake. Izara told her to sleep and covered her in a blanket of cloves. That was her first chance to see just how bad the girl’s condition was. Her hair was matted and intertwined with leaves. Her body was caked in dirt. Izara gently untangled her hair and plaited it. When Elizabeth woke up, she was willing to share more than basic information. She spilled out the story. She had only discovered her powers a few moons ago, and it ruined her life. Something started hunting her. She never saw its face, but felt its claws sink into her skin. They left deep gashes that never healed. The creature tried to kill her several times. Eventually, the attacks got so bad she had to leave home. She had been told about a safe place and was attempting to reach it. Izara invited her to stay for as long as she needed. She agreed reluctantly and moved in. Things were different with a kid around. The house was louder than before. The house now had the energy of a kid living in it. Sometimes, Elizabeth would wake up screaming. It would take over an hour to calm her down. Izara helped her gain a deeper relationship with plants. After a couple months, she felt she had overstayed her welcome and left. Izara was deeply saddened by her daughter’s choice, but did nothing to stop it. The duo still talked as much as they could.They would meet up once a moon to catch up. Those hours were the best of their life. They were filled up with idle chatter, offering a respite to the girl.they met up like this for a couple years. Elizabeth eventually found the safe place, and she was all too happy to tell her mother about it. The girl grew older, and every visit gave her mom another thing to be proud of. One thing Izara noticed, was the girl seemed more hurt every time she visited. Small scratches turned into gushing wounds. She would insist she was fine, but Izara could see the red that coated her body. One day, Izara was stuck waiting for longer than usual. She had just started worrying, when the girl stumbled towards her. Her entire leg was shattered and blood poured out of cavernous wounds. She collapsed as soon as she saw Izara. Izara tended to her wounds and coaxed the truth out of her. She confessed that the monster attacks had continued whenever she went to visit. She apologized for being a burden. Izara assured her that she always had a home with her. The weeks passed, and Elizabeth remembered exactly why she had loved living there. The tension that had built up over the years, was released. There was only one problem, Elizabeth’s leg never healed. She wouldn’t ever be able to make the journey back. Elizabeth had never been close to anyone at her new home, and figured they would live without her. She asked Izara for permission to stay and she readily gave it. They stayed together for the rest of Elizabeth’s life.

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The stream was still and quiet. So unlike the storm inside of the figure gazing at the water. Salvinia replayed the same question in her mind. Why her? What had she done to deserve this. She still remembered everything about her little sapling. She remembered the smile that could light up the whole world. She remembered the day she hatched, the name Lily sprouting from Savinia’s lip. She remembered how Lily would dance in the rain, it’s song drowning everything else out. She remembered how Lily would twirl through the forest, careful not to disturb even the smallest blade of grass. She remembered when everything from the meekest mouse to the mightiest wolf would seek her warmth. She remembered the day her Lily was stolen. She remembered. They were running through the forest, oblivious to the world around them. Salvinia could have saved her. If only she heard the clattering of hooves. If only she could smell the smoke. If only she saw the raging inferno. If only Lilly had run fast enough. If only. Sobs shook the grieving mothers body. If only a small flower never peaked up from the scorched ground. If only she wasn’t given hope by the fragile beauty. If only the minuscule bloom didn’t shine through ice and fire. If only Salvinia didn’t convince herself Lily was still there. If only, humans didn’t race through the forest. If only one hadn’t crushed her Lilly underfoot. If only they had bothered to see the mother who twice lost her daughter. If only she didn’t drag herself to the stream. If only she wasn’t so caught up in memories and if onlys. If only she didn’t let the grief consume her. If only she had realized her body was shifting, rooting to the damp soil. If only indeed.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

The spy

Don’t get caught. Those were the final words the spies heard before departing on their missions. Acacia knew those words by heart. He repeated them every moment of every day. He knew the consequences of not following that rule. The elders relied on the intel the spies gathered to make battle plans. If they were caught, they could spill every important secret the gnomes kept hidden. To prevent this, the spies had a vial of crushed up belladonna root hanging around their neck. Acacia was lucky enough not to have used it yet. He assumed that fact would change, for he was given orders to spy on the king. He knew it was a suicide mission but had no choice except to accept. He had to watch his every move. Stepping down slightly too hard, or being upwind could doom the mission. His job was made even harder by the guards. They meant having even more eyes to spot him with. He still managed to keep his secrecy up for two weeks. On the fifteenth day he was caught. One of the ogre king’s henchmen had smelled him. The brute grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him down. His finger ripped the thin cord around Acacia’s neck. The vial shattered quietly. Acacia was dragged into a dirty cell. They cell had been previously occupied, as was evidenced by the pile of bones sitting in a corner. He was kept in the cell for three days. They tried to interrogate him, but his lips remained shut. He was terribly beaten during those three days, so horribly he had to lean on one of the guards that led him to his death. Apparently the king didn’t want his death to be quick or painless. The executioner burned patterns in his skin. They were clearly trying to humiliate him in front of the barbaric crowd. When his skin was covered in angry red marks, the king finally let the executioner beat him to death. We gnomes heard the story and decided to wear the marks as a sign of strength. That’s why we burn the sacred patterns into our skin.

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A Cruel Master

Lord Dorian was a cruel master. That was the fact that dominated the lives of the gnomes that worked on his estate. They lived by strict rules. Breaking them meant severe consequences, ones some of them never recovered from. Randa knew these rules and kept to them dutifully. She bowed her head down and kept to herself. She somehow still managed to catch the eye of the lord. He seemed to take a certain joy in tormenting her. Any project she worked on would be deemed a disaster, and she would have to redo it. He covered her body in nail shaped cuts.He had even gotten his children to throw rocks at her when she passed them. He played this game for years, Randa stubbornly refusing to break. She took a deep breath and remembered the words of the elders, whenever an act of harassment occurred. The lord only seemed tempted by her cool demeanor. They continued this dance for years, each one leaving Randa more miserable. It got so bad, Randa could barely make it back to her hut without collapsing from pure agony. Yet steadfast she remained. She would take refuge in the temple dedicated to the elders, begging for guidance. The ancestors remained silent, which distressed poor Randa greatly. She had decided that meant she would have to endure this cruelty. Every day, she told herself she would have to endure just one more day of it. This stopped working, eventually she started thinking of how many days she would go through. One day, she snapped. She demanded he give her a reason he had a right to touch her . Lord Dorian didn’t like that one bit. He grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her outside. He was determined to make an example out of her. Her body was repeatedly slammed against the stone path, and her screams rang out into the woods. The other gnomes gathered around, unable to take their eyes off the horrific scene. This continued for some time, and when Lord Dorian’s rage was quelled Randa just lay there, groaning in pain. A gnome carried her into a healer’s hut. The healer said there was nothing they could do to help her. The gnome took her to the temple, making sure she got a blessing before shifting. They laid her down to rest near a river. They didn’t return until a few days later, fearing the master’s rage. In the place of the battered girl, a graceful willow stood

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Grave Diggers

Alain flinched as she heard a dry snap. She didn’t dare look down, already knowing all too well what caused the noise. She never would have expected things to go so wrong. Her mother had sent her to visit Aunt Patia’s colony, hoping to teach her about the agricultural system. At first things were going well, everyone in the colony was friendly. Almost too friendly. The smiles didn’t reach their eyes and their gaze was always predatory. She shoved the feelings down. Surely her aunt would never let anyone hurt her. She spent several weeks helping the farmers, rarely getting a chance to rest. Feeding the entire lost cities was hard work, that was for sure. When she did get to rest she would lounge on her aunt’s furniture that was made out of a mysterious white material. One thing that kept nagging at her, was how they kept the soil healthy. Surely, the plants left the soil dry and infertile after so many harvest seasons. When she asked her aunt, her smile dropped and Aunt Patia told her not to worry about things that didn’t concern her. That didn’t help the unease building in her stomach. A storm hit the colony and tore up the fields. Her aunt excused her from working, saying she was unused to working in the mud. Alain found this odd, since her aunt was always eager to put her to work. She insisted that she could take it, but her aunt still resisted. Eventually, Alain wore her down. Before they left Patia made her promise to keep whatever she saw a secret. She agreed, now suspicious about what awaited her. As they walked to the field to the field, Patia seemed to become almost monster like. Her mouth was now filled of fangs. It twisted upwards unnaturally. The hand that was holding hers, now ended in talons. She ignored it and they arrived at the field. The other gnomes mirrored the horrifying appearance. When she looked down at the field, what she saw made her heart skip several beats. White sticks stuck out of the ground, bound together by rotting flesh. Maggots crawled over the limp sacks. Dead bodies. She remembered seeing a human graveyard on the journey to the colony. The truth washed over her. The other gnomes were watching her, waiting for a reaction. She swallowed and got to work replanting the seeds they had salvaged. She tried and failed to ignore what she had uncovered. It was all she could do to keep herself from throwing up. She distracted herself with plotting her escape. She had somehow managed to make it throughout the entire day. The gnomes were allowed to rest during the night, having dealt with the affects of the storm. As soon as Patia fell asleep, Alain started packing her bags. She noiselessly left the hut. She had to creep across the field. Her steps had to be light and leave no print. She had made her way to the edge of the field when she heard a crack. She turned rapidly, barely managing not to flee when faced with the monster. It only vaguely resembled her aunt now. The face was twisted, it almost looked like someone had carved the face of a gnome without ever seeing one. The skin on the beast was an ashy gray. It now stood on four legs. It started to circle her. She was paralyzed by terror. Eventually it lunged, it’s claws sinking into her skin. She was never heard from again, her parent were told she had run away in the night. Anyone who looked closely would see that a new tree bordered the fields.

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The Botanist’s Daughter

This is unlike the other stories you will be told. Those are an important part of our history. This happened only a couple years ago, but I think her story deserves to be told. There used to be a house near my colony. Many people in our colony would got to observe it. It was living, in every sense of the word. The walls were formed out of still living trees. A man lived there alone, and dedicated his days to studying the wildlife around him. A woman started visiting him quite often. I never had a chance to learn about the nature of these visits, but about a year later there was a baby girl on his doorstep. The little girl inherited her father’s love of nature. They would spend hours outside each day. They would mainly spend their time gardening and studying. The little girl would watch in wonder as he drew models. He was also a skilled pianist. I heard the music drifting through the walls. When the girl was about 5 years old a man visited them. Things started changing after that. The girl would leave for hours on end. When she came back, bruises littered her body. The girl became quieter, her chatter muffled. Her father noticed this of course, but did nothing about it. A couple months passed, and she grew more passionate about gardening. I believe she used it as a reprieve, an escape from whatever happened when she disappeared. She ran home one day, much earlier than before. The man who had once visited them, followed her. She seemed upset about something. Her father came outside and started talking to the man. They both started to get angry. The next thing I know, the botanist had fallen to the ground. A splotch of red bloomed from his chest. The little girl started sobbing, and the other man started to comfort her. He lead her away and I never saw her again. My colony had to move, but I’ve heard rumors that the living house is once again lived in.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

Carnivorous

The elders told us to be peaceful. Go to the elves and be peaceful. That was their last message to us. Drosera had grown up hearing that message every moment of everyday. Don’t yell, don’t hit, don’t argue. So many don’ts based on the elder’s last words. They were even carved into the ground near the hatching circles. Drosera got tired of it. She decided to break all the rules. She screamed, she fought, and she told the forbidden stories. Any young gnome’s head would be filled with stories of the dark times. Times before we accepted peace, where bloodlust still filled our souls. Her colony was outraged at her behavior. She was no longer allowed to watch the children. Her community scorned her, forcing her to live in isolation. She got ahold of a match and set the entire hatching area ablaze. 20 unhatched were killed that day. They managed to control the inferno before it got out of control. Drosera was exiled and forced into the woods. She made a small tent out of animal skins. She devoured the fruit of helpless plants . The patterns she burned into her skin, were those of violence. She was out foraging, when she heard a twig snap. A figure clothed in a black cloak approached her. She brandished her spear at the silhouette, who expressed their surprise at her aggression. She asked if he had a problem with it, and they confirmed they didn’t. The two talked for a while. Drosera told him why she was living alone. They then explained they were going to change the world. They then offered a partnership of sorts. They said she would go to an elven estate and work there. She would keep her ears open and report anything she heard. Drosera asked what was in it for her. The figure didn’t answer but promised great rewards. Drosera joined the service of Everglen and got to work. For a year or so, she lived the double life perfectly. As time went on, she grew unsatisfied with the mission. The figure refuses to give a name or explain exactly how she benefited from this arrangement. The cloaked figure tried to staph the questions with threats, which spurred Drosera to attack them. She collected the fallen elf’s belongings and once more set of into the forest. There she experimented with seeds, trying to create a monster. It took several weeks, but she managed to perfect her monstrosity. It was a ten foot tall plant with two leaves that served as a jaw. There were three hairs in the mouth of the beast that triggered the jaw. Drosera planted it near a different a human mansion. The different residents of the estate wandered over to the plant. Curious, they examined the plant. That was when it would strike, consuming its victims. When the house was emptied, drosera moved in. She spent her days lounging around the estate, and gathering food only when necessary. Anytime a traveler came upon the now ramshackle house, they wouldn’t leave. Eventually the Council caught on to the suspicious behavior, unable to ignore the disappearances. They found both the monster and Drosera. They dragged Drosera into Exile and left the monster to die. Drosera would spend the rest of her life there, unable to shift in the cold, sterile environment. The monster managed to self pollinate. The seeds it produced drifted in the wind, eventually making their way to human settlements. The plants that grew from the accursed seed were smaller. No longer seeking sentient pray it settled for little flying bugs. Humans used it as a tool, now that it was no longer a viable threat.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

Best Friends

Amir woke up dazed. She could only blearily make out something hovering over her. A strong hand grabbed her and she resisted. The hand held firm, and a voice warbled out unfamiliar sounds. Her vision cleared, and she finally identified her company. Amir’s struggling grew more frantic, now fighting against an ogress’s hold instead of just a potential threat. She felt a sharp sting in her leg. Under close inspection, the leg revealed a freshly reopened wound. The ogress grasped her leg, and Amir watched helplessly. The ogress smeared some sort of paste over the wound, and Amir felt the wound close up. The ogress then flashed Amir what she interpreted as a smile. Amir examined her surroundings and found herself in a forest. She felt a stick rubbing against her side. As she grasped it, the ogress tensed. Amir used the stick to draw a monster attacking a small gnome in the loose dirt. The ogress let out a chirpy giggle. The ogress grabbed another stick and drew a picture of the two of them them holding hands. They continued to talk like this, wiping their canvas clean after every drawing. After several hours of their game, the ogress pointed to herself and said Taleia. Amir tried to repeat it but failed miserably. Taleia shook her head and amended it to Tallie. This was much easier for Amir to pronounce. Amir then pointed to herself, saying Amir. Tallie could only manage Ami. They continued on with their game, coming up with silly drawings. The sun sank lower, and they both agreed on their need to return home. The met up the next day and the next and the next. Each day, they made up new games to play. One day they acted out scenes. The next, they would point to things and name them in their language. The other would then try to mimic the word. Laughter constantly sang to the trees when they were together. Eventually, their families took notice of the constant absence. They explained that they had made a new friend, always forgetting to mention the species of their companion. For years, they played together blissfully. As they grew older, they learned more of the other’s language. They could hold short conversations together, but they never abandoned their little dirt scribbles. Amir’s brother followed her into the forest one day and spotted Tallie. He was all too happy to report the ogress to their parents. When Amir returned home, she was met with concerned lectures. Amir attempted to placate her parents with the knowledge of the friendship’s longevity. That had the opposite affect, and they forbid her from visiting her best friend again. That decision caused a screaming match. The next morning Amir visited Tallie as usual, explaining the situation. When Tallie began to despair, Amir explained her proposal. They would run away together, just the two of them. Tallie agreed, and they made a plan to meet at nightfall. Amir rushed home, happier than she had ever been. Her parents tried to interrogate her about her whereabouts, but she ignored them. Sunset had begun and she started packing. Anxiously, she made her way to their meeting spot. Tallie was already there, and they started their journey early. The girls set off into a world of endless possibilities.

[hyacinthsfolklore]

A Tale Of Two Lovers

A young elf girl rushed through the forest, only stopping when a root made her fall to the ground. Tears streamed down her face as she lay there unmoving. A gentle voice soon filled her ears as strong arms picked her up. She tried to fight but gave up and let the arms carry her to a foreign place. She closed her eyes and drifted into unconsciousness as the music worked its magic. When she opened them again, she was in a forest. An old gnome had begun plaiting her hair and weaving flowers through it. The tears dried and the little girl asked why the gnome had taken her. The gnome answered that she wanted to know what troubled the girl. The girl told her that her father had yelled at her. When the gnome asked why, the girl told her that she failed a test. They sat there in content silence as the gnome wove the girl’s hair together. The girl eventually went home but didn’t forget her new friend. Every week or so the girl would return to the gnome, running away from some squabble with her father. The girl only asked the gnome’s name during her fifth visit, before being too occupied with her own problems. The gnome let her know it was Violet. The girl responded by saying hers was zedrin. One week zedrin had returned to the forest particularly distraught. When violet pressed for details zedrin replied she thought she was in love. She explained there was a pretty girl she was friends with, that she sometimes wanted to kiss. What violet said next surprised her. Violet began to weave together a captivating story. There once were two girls. They could be called sisters, for they were so in all but blood. One of the girls, named soma had begun to develop urges. She started wanting to card her fingers through the others hair, and hold the other’s hand. They had done these things often enough, but she began to want it to mean more. The other girl remained unaware of the others affection, acting as she had since they had met. Soma watched in barely concealed agony as male suitors pursued her love. The other girl gently but firmly set them straight. That never stopped more from trying to woo her. Soon soma watched as almost every boy in her colony was rejected. People started questioning who exactly she would marry. The other girl simply laughed at the question as said whoever the right person was. Soma desperately wished that person was her. Soma kept her feelings hidden for several years. One day the other girl asked her if she ever thought about kissing girls. Startled by the blunt question, she said only one. When the other girl asked who, she responded with a quiet you. The other girl’s lips abruptly met hers. Soma stumbled back but leaned into the kiss. Flowers bloomed where the lovers had shared their first but certainly not only kiss. Soma lovingly named the flowers violet after her dearest love.