#Mystic Flour look so different with the veil on

[imaginariumwanderer]

HI

HELLO

YOU WHO HAD NOTICED THE BUN MYSTIC HAS ON THAT STATUE

WE WERE ACTUALLY ALREADY SHOWN THIS BACK ON THE VERY FIRST TRAILER ABOUT THE BEASTS!!

THIS IS HOW SHE/THEY LOOKED LIKE BEFORE CORRUPTION!!! it is very likely, mystic began wearing the vail right after whatever lead them to corruption, most likely, and by all the things being pointed out, a sort of tragedy!

i noticed this way back before we had confirmation mystc was gonna be next as i kept looking back at the trailer due to how interesting i find how DRASTIC shadow milk's change alone is, and when i noticed this detail i went bonkers, as small of a change this is on design wise from what it seems, the fact its SO NOTICABLE its something that facinates me! as she and sm are the ones that are the most easy to notice this changes unlike the others!!! das all, just wanted to share :]

Hi, hi!

Yes, the bun is something I've noticed while gathering references for Mystic Flour. Pre-corruption!Beasts is a fascinating concept. A lot of fans have been making theories, fanarts etc of pre-corruption!Shadow Milk cookie/ dubbed Blueberry Yogurt cookie. So I wanted to join in and gave my thoughts on what pre-corruption!Mystic Flour was like.

The statues shown in the newest trailer was definitely built before Mystic Flour's corruption. Just like with the previous Ancients, there's a high chance statues like these will be a common sight as we explore the Beasts' territories/ kingdoms. Environmental story telling have always been one of the things Cookie run kingdom excel at. And unlike Theater of Lies, which is simply an introduction, we might learn about the past of one of the Beasts with this update!

I also agree that it's interesting how out of all the Beasts, Shadow Milk have the most drastic change to his appearance (or his silhouette, at least). I wonder what make him an exception?

Anyways, thank you for sharing this with me!

[talesofealdancynedom]

The Stone King, in his human form; I draw a lot of mountains, so I thought this one should look a little different.

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 2 - Sunday Paper 2/7 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

mild violance

Life is hard without magic. Mundane life that is. People are common, everything is drab, and reliant on money or technology. Everyday, many people want a more adventurous and whimsical life. Full of colour, passion and awe. The rest of the people don’t mind feeding goats, fixing the wi-fi, planting flowers, or answering the phone. Because everyone is different; and what may give one-person satisfaction in their life, is the worst possible outcome for another. The joy of living in a world with magic, is that happily ever afters are real; it’s simply a matter of figuring out what that is for you.

           Two years ago, in the mourning, Morgan biked to school, having only consumed toast. When he arrived, there was an announcement telling students to avoid the language wing, due to goblins in the wall by the girl’s washroom. Locker renovations had made a warm dark hole in the wall. A wizard would arrive in the afternoon, to clear these fey out of the school. Morgan, distracted by the intercom, was shoved into a locker by the regular bullies. Children his age could be mean. Morgan no longer remembers what about his appearance, or personality, they tormented him for. He just felt lucky he could use the bruises they gave him, to lie about the ones his father gave him. If it is not apparent, Morgan was one of those people who wanted a more whimsical life; it would be better then being alone.

           The class Morgan had before lunch, was gym; He feinted. Just like his father, Morgan was prone to swooning in sudden bouts of syncope. Anything from emotional distress to low blood sugar could make him wake up on the nurses caught. The nurse was normally not there. Today she was however, and forced Morgan to drink some processed orange juice, asked about the bruises, and the cuts on his wrists. Morgan shrugged and left, leaving her wondering if she should file something. Outside the office was a vending machine; Morgan put in some silver, and put in the code for all-dressed crisps. He watched as the corkscrew mechanism slowly wound, pushing the bag towards the dark pit of the vending shoot. He could relate.

           In third period, the math teacher gave everyone homework time. Half-way through, Morgan finished his assignments, and rose his hand for the teacher let him leave early to use the washroom. Morgan went to the language wing, and directly to the crevice with the lilac butterfly goblins. He opened the bag of crisps, and evenly distributed them to the stone children.

“You should leave. A wizard will be here in ten minutes, to remove you. Common folk kill fey they think or scary. Say hello to your father for me.” Morgan said in Elden Anglian, standing up. The goblins squeaked in agreeance, and left. The bell rang. Morgan walked to his next class as the halls filled. A different group of peers shoved him, face first, into a door; Laughing at him for feinting. The teacher sent him back to the nurse’s office, as he had a bloody nose. His bullies snickered in the back, causing the teacher to leer. Morgan had already left.

           The Nurse called Morgan’s mother, who wasn’t home for another hour. She was landscaping for a perfectionist client again. The nurse handed the phone to Morgan.

“Sweety, I know you don’t like to eat, but finish your lunch and bike home. I picked up flour and butter yesterday, so you can bake if your homework is done. See you soon!” Icthya said. She was possibly the sweetest lady in the land.

“Ok.” Morgan said in a sad and quiet voice. He handed the phone back to the nurse, gathered his things and went home. Once home, Morgan baked a batch of two dozen thumbprint cookies, and then lay in his bed. He wanted to paint, but looking at the ceiling was easier.

Morgan’s parent would be home in thirty minutes. He stopped breathing. If they found out about the goblins at school, and suspected he went near them, his mother would burst into tears at the thought of him being close to ‘potentially deadly’ magic. Then his father would beat him, in a desperate attempt to deter him for going near anything mystical. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the last percussion maintenance. At the end of Morgan’s bed, was a card table with an open ancient ledger. The used book retailers in The Capitol, would give him the old books because no one wanted them. They were old, in ancient writing no one could read, and were taking up space. In reality the shop keepers loved how happy Morgan looked when he received a dishevelled book no one wanted. The books were journals of long dead mages. Morgan wanted a whimsical and adventurous life, like the ones he read in those books. These journals helped him escape once he audited Understanding Old Anglian, from the local university. Morgan wanted to be a librarian; the magic history kind. But settled to be the regular kind, to comfort his parents and avoid abuse. He couldn’t stand his mother crying. Morgan wondered what his grandpa was like; If he hadn’t died in a fey hording incident, would Morgan and grandpa bond in the fey garden in grandma’s backyard? Would Morgan be in a magic academy to become a seer.

The Journal by Morgan’s feet, opened to a table of fours diagram, that made a temporary gate to the shadow veil if written with chalk, and bee’s wax candles were lit at each of the ten runes of the beast kingdoms. Morgan went into the front closet, grabbed the sidewalk chalk, and then the bee tea lights. His mother Ichtya liked bees. Morgan checked his watch; He had twenty-two minutes before his parents came home. He didn’t expect the spell to actually work.

Morgan found himself in a grayscale mountain side. At his feet, was a candle lamp, that flickered pale blue; to go back home. This must be the Shadow Veil, Morgan thought. No one was around, and it was perfectly quiet. He didn’t feel heat from the sun, nor the cold of wind. Morgan took a deep breath. Morgan noticed he still had a half bag of crisps in his trench pocket. He searched himself. Morgan was uncomfortable; He wasn’t used to being perfectly calm. It felt good. Addictively so. Morgan began to walk along the ridge, to the east. He noticed colours; stone fey. Quartz trolls, neon goblins, blue dwarves, and a glimmering silver bow and arrow set with amethysts. He recognized them from one of his journals; The unbreakable sword and bow, gifted to the royal house of Cynedom. His house. Morgan contemplated the fact he was the last in line to the house that once ruled the Grand West, when it was called Anglia. Along with his father, who still worked the heirloom ranch, which was now a tourist spot. Then Morgan asked a dwarf where he was. It shrugged and said: Home.

Morgan was now smiling, as he skipped along the rocky terrain that gave way to a forest edge. There was a flat stone platform to his right, engraved with the gate diagram but missing the stone kingdom rune. If it was open to a magic forest back in the Day Veil, it would be glowing; according to what Morgan had read. To his left, Morgan saw a stone chess table, with an unfinished game of chess on it. He examined the game, and moved the white knight. The ground began to rumbled and shake, causing Morgan to crouch and peer over the chess table. The pieces remained in their place. Then, a man of stone in traditional Grand East clothing, walked forward from the slope, and moved the black bishop to take the knight. He had a soft smile on his smooth marble face.

“My wife didn’t want to finish the game. Io can be a quitter when she is tiered. Want to play?” He said. Morgan smiled, and made a move. After two terns, he gave the living statue the rest of the bag of crisps. He ate them with enthusiasm.

“I had some children come home from Anglia today, telling me a mage boy named Morgan gave them these. They are wonderful! This is why I send my children to the Day Veil; Humans are so creative, and make things as wondrous as me and my siblings.” He chimed. Morgan moved his pawn into checkmate. It dawned on him that he might have won a game of chess against the literal Stone King, who was one of the ten sources of all magic in the world.

“Oh look! You won! Good job! You wouldn’t be that nice Morgan Cynedom boy by any chance?” the Stone King asked. “Can’t think of any reason why a human would visit my kingdom.” He explained further. Morgan nodded. He was stunned; He couldn’t remember the last time someone said ‘good job.’

“It was nice to play with someone; I don’t have friends. I’m glad your children are ok; My school almost sent a wizard to take care of them…” Morgan said.

“You’re not scared of me? And you enjoyed playing a game, and giving me and my children potatoes? Why I haven’t seen a mage in my kingdom for centuries; And the one that shows up, is sweeter then roasted parsnips.” The Stone King smiled. Morgan smiled back. He was having fun.

“Here, take this.” The Stone King said, handing Morgan a palm sized smooth stone, with the rune for stan on it.

“Oh, thanks.” Morgan giggled. He had no idea why the Stone King had just given him a rock, but it made him happy to get a gift. “I have to come back and see you again!” Morgan smiled.

“Can’t wait!” The Stone King said. Behind him, a woman of crystal looked at them with curiosity. Morgan waved good bye at both of them. He intended to go home, but instead, his feet carried him further east. This place was far better then home; He felt safe.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

[lovelyrhink]

for @rhettsbabe bc customers suck

once upon a time, three witches raised a young boy in the woods. he lived a happy life, albeit with not much of a father figure, save for the tales of old wizards and kings his mothers told him, but happy all the same. his mothers loved him very much, treasured him dearly, and gave him the best possible life they could in their given circumstances.

as they were outcasted by the kingdom, they were left to practice magic - dark or otherwise - in the shadowed cover of the spooky woods. they had a little cottage and a massive, mystical garden, as well as acres and acres of forest for little rhett to play in. he made friends with nature, the animals, and the spirits, and as he grew up at the hands of three wise sorcerers, he learned all he could about magic in place of a formal education. he knew of spiraling green smoke and cauldrons, jars of newt’s eyes and the purple leaves of the hoot-hoot tree, and anything else the witches kept in their collection. from simple charms to intricate casts, he was the three witches’ son and apprentice, and what he lacked in mythical bloodline, he made up for in spirit.

indeed, he was not born of the three witches. they’d found him in a basket floating down the river, cursed the people who’d left him, and raised him as their own. for the first ten years of his life, they hid him away and told nary a soul that they had a human child. all the same, rhett was curious and, sadly, incredibly lonely, so it was only a matter of time until he was asking about other children.

though most of it was terrifyingly mysterious, the forest did attract a few brave children here and there, and when they came, rhett watched from his hidden cottage with big eyes, nose at the windowsill. he saw how they played with each other, teased each other, touched and kissed and laughed. they were so golden, with pink cheeks and bright smiles, so different than the ghosts, ghouls, and woodland creatures he’d made friends with. he loved his supernatural world, of course, but he longed for human friendship.

so, when he was ten, he asked his mothers if he could go to “school,” something he heard the other kids talking about as they drew spirals in the dirt with twigs and chased each other ‘round wise old redwoods. the three witches were hesitant at first, as they wanted to protect their son from all the cruelty humans could impose, but miriam, the oldest and wisest of them, decided it was the right thing to do.

“he’s a human, clarissa,” she told her middle sister. 

antoinette, the youngest, huffed. “he’s not like other humans!”

“that’s because we’ve never showed him any different. but he is, in fact, human, and we can’t take that part of him. he needs to know the world in which he came from.”

“the world which cast him away, left him to drown?” clarissa snapped.

but miriam was calm. “we’ve gone over this, sisters. we don’t know his birth parents’ intentions, perhaps his mother couldn’t care for him and hoped the waters would rock him to safety.”

miriam’s sisters fell quiet, not entirely convinced but loving rhett too much to argue. he was safe with them now, had been for the last ten years, and now it was time for him to find his own way.

clarissa flicked her finger at the cauldron in the fireplace and a long wooden ladle began to stir itself. as eternal shapeshifters, the three witches knew there would always be something they couldn’t give their precious son - the mortal experience. so they finally agreed that on his half-birthday, they’d send him to the kingdom school. 

his backstory? he came from another town and lived far at the edge of the village. he had two loving parents, marcus and amelia, and a dog named beebee. if anyone asked to come home with him (though the witches doubted anyone would, as rhett was a strange child, regardless of his magic power), he’d have to decline.

naturally, when the time came, rhett had little on his mind in regards to mystery and just wanted to meet a friend. he needed to meet a friend. he sought a best friend, a real one. not just toads and salamanders. 

on rhett’s first day of school, halfway through the school year, he slung a satchel over his shoulder, bid his mothers goodbye, and bounded off towards the town. clarissa held her pointed nose up high, antoinette cried, and miriam waved him off fondly before consoling her sisters. “he’s old enough now,” she said. “he’ll be fine.”

and in fact, he was fine. the schoolhouse teacher received rhett with a note attached from his nonexistent father and a gracious, bemused smile, introduced him to the class, and pointed to an empty seat beside a sweet-faced boy with big blue eyes. rhett was tittering with excitement as he wove through the old oak desks, and as soon as he slipped into his seat, he cast his eyes out the low stone window and admired the town beyond.

on the distant horizon sat the castle, proud and regal, a bustling castle town moving like clockwork below it. there was so much color, much more than the greens and browns of the forest, and everyone looked so strange. while his mothers had shown him storybooks of princes and princesses, these people looked nothing like that. some wore flour-sacks for clothes and pushed carts piled high with radishes along the muddy roads, while others clip-clopped on low creme heels down cobblestone pathways. there were men and women and children, little dogs and stray cats, just swatches of color and movement beyond the school’s walls, and rhett was nearly overwhelmed. 

he was about to drown in his own wonder when he felt a tap on his arm. he turned, and the boy sat beside him gave him a big white smile. it made rhett’s heart warm and stomach flutter, and suddenly he didn’t feel so scared.

“you came from another town?” the boy asked. his voice was even softer than his eyes, and rhett felt a strange heat bloom in his cheeks.

“yes, i have a dog.”

“a dog!” the boy’s eyes twinkled. “i like dogs.”

rhett didn’t know what to say to that, so he just stared at the boy quietly. 

the boy wasn’t fazed, though, and stared right on back. they held the gaze for a moment, and if rhett hadn’t been trained in magic, he might not have noticed the electric current sparking between their hearts. he did, though, as well as the spirits shifting beyond the veil, rousing as if on the cusp of something predetermined.

“it’s hard being new,” the boy then whispered as their teacher turned to the blackboard and raised a stalk of chalk. he leaned close and put his hand on rhett’s arm. it felt good. “you’re gonna need a friend,” he then said. “i’m link. nice to meet you,” and held out his hand.

rhett took it. “rhett.” 

perhaps, rhett thought, loneliness was a bulletproof precursor to love. 

then link smiled at rhett, rhett smiled at link, and the fates were sealed. 

the end.