Fable - Tumblr Posts
The Fable of The Lonely King
-A @halfstack-smp story-
CW: Death, Vaguely worded descriptions of depressive spirals and grieving, Victim Blaming
Long ago, just after the Bastions collapsed, an Enderwalker warrior returned from a war, shaken and stiff. He had lost his Dearest friend to the illnesses of the Nether and fought until his body gave out on him. Despite all he had seen, he was welcomed once again with open arms and celebration to the kingdom he had left.
But he could not enjoy them. For how could a grieving man enjoy the opposite of his sorrow when he was so buried in it?
"Endiemon!" Their companions called, "Join us and celebrate the return of our soldiers!"
But Endiemon did not join. He sat, lonely and sad, diving into the memory of his Dearest friend. How could everyone celebrate when he had lost someone so dear to him? How could they be happy when he was not? How could they not notice how upset he was?
And through all the celebration, and over the many prosperous generations to come, Endiemon became bitter and cold. If he could not have what he had lost, then they could not have their new kingdom. Why should they get to move on? Why should they be allowed to grow when so much had been lost.
And so Endiemon continued to grow bitter and hateful towards the people of his home kingdom, unable to think about anything but what he had had before, and nothing about what the future had in store for him.
Endiemon began to hate life itself.
Despite the hundreds of years passing, the thought of their dear friend continued to weigh on Endiemon, deeper and deeper, until he was fully consumed by grief.
And in his grief, Endiemon slipped.
One night, while the king was asleep, Endiemon crept into his bedchamber and threw him from the window, ensuring his demise. The king had not noticed he had been attacked until he was already in the air, falling to his death.
With the king gone, Endiemon stole his robes, dressing himself up in his place and placing the far too small crown atop his hornless head.
And that is how the citizens found him in the morning.
"What happened to our king?" They asked.
"He slipped and fell from the window, I tried to save him." Endiemon lied. "He shouted that I was to take his place as he fell"
And so the populous buried their king.
And the kingdom mourned.
And Endiemon sat on the throne, the new and ever lonely king.
And yet, the sadness soon lifted, but Endiemon was still sad. He could not be happy, for he had lost more than the kingdom ever had.
They should not be allowed to be happy, Endiemon decided, and so once again they grew bitter and cold, pushing away all that drew near to them.
And the colder and colder Endiemon grew, the more his kingdom began to hate and fear him, and the more and more began to leave.
Finally, it was just Endiemon and one more citizen.
The young Qilin, thick hair tied back, approached the ever lonely king. In one hand she held a sword and the other, a single cornflower, and her face was set in a strong but confident frown.
And she spoke.
"King Endiemon, why do you drive all of us away? You cannot mourn forever."
"I can mourn for as long as I wish!" Endiemon snapped, getting to his feet. The Lonely King towered over the young Qilin, clawed hands outstretched in front of him, grasping towards her form for something longer past. "You will never understand what it feels like to lose all that you had! There is no forgetting what happened, why do you all move from it so quickly?"
"Because Life is beautiful and the Universe holds untold stories for our futures." The young Qilin responded, for she was wise beyond her few years and loved the universe as it loved her.
"The universe does not love me any longer" Endiemon spat, drawing his own axe from its sheath. "So I cannot love it. I cannot love something that hates me so much as to destroy my Dearest friend. I cannot love something that has made me so sad for all these years."
"Then you cannot love yourself." The young Qilin steadied her sword. "You looked too far into the past and have forgotten your future."
"I HAVE no future!" The Lonely King hissed, swinging his axe in wide arcs at the young Qilin, but she stood firm, hopping nimbly over each blow.
And when The Lonely King raised his arms to strike down on the young Qilin, her sword struck through his chest, causing him a moments pause.
"You only have no future because you couldn't bring yourself to see it." She said, bringing The Lonely King to his knees as he slowly began to perish.
"You were too focused on all that you had lost that you could not see how bright your future was. And now you will forever be known as Endiemon, The Lonely King."
With a final hiss, The Lonely King Endiemon spat on the floor of the castle, cursing it with his dying breath to crumble along with him so that he would be lonely forever.
And so it did. The young Qilin buried The Ever Lonely King in a bed of cornflowers, laying her last gift to him atop where he lay.
And the kingdom crumbled around him as he lay.
So do not covet what you lost in the past like The Lonely King, for you will forget what lies in the future, and fall out of love with life. And there is no greater sadness than the sadness of one who has fallen out of love with the universe itself.
What is your favorite or most interesting fairytale/fable/bit of folklore?
There was one finnish tale of a blind, old house elf (tonttu) that had no house, who was looking for a new household to settle down at. He finds an old, run-down homestead, and mistakes a broken old storage shed with no wall on one side for the main house. Unaware that there's a huge hole on the side of the shed, he grumbles to himself that the house is drafty and undoes his little vagrant Bundle On A Stick package for a meal, which features a chunk of meat.
Lured in by the scent of meat, a bear walks in. As in, walking straight into the shed, through the huge bear-sized hole in the wall. The elf, being blind, can't quite see what is trying to sniff after his lunch, and mistakes the intruder for the household's cat. The elf decides to shoo the cat away, smacks the bear on the nose, and - being instantly faced with the consequences of smacking a bear in the face - barely escapes with his life and decides that this house is not worth it. It's drafty, not hospitable, and the cat is a horrible creature.
The elf goes around, finding some other equally miserable prospects for lodgings, and a bit over a year later circles back to this same old house, which is somehow still both broken, inhabitable, and still inhabited. The elf asks someone of the household whether "that awful cat" is still living here. The girl he asks this from, who assumes that he means the household's actual cat, answers
"Yes, and she had eight kittens this spring!"
The elf decides to fuck off entirely, never to be seen around these parts again.
One of my guilty pleasures is when I get hyper fixated on something, I like to turn them into MLP characters. So here’s Reaver from Fable as a pony
I regret nothing
Reaver: what would you like for Christmas huh?
Hero of Brightwall: …
Hero of Brightwall: Did you fuck my mom..?
Reaver: What?
Hero of Brightwall: Did you fuck. My. Mom..?
“How inconvenient”
“[Speaking about Lucien] How dare he betray me, we had a gentleman’s agreement, and just while I was betraying you!”
— Reaver (Fable II)
Theresa: “I raised the queen”
Hammer: “I befriended the queen”
Garth: “I fought with the queen”
Reaver:
This is for all those Sparrow/Reaver girlies
Hey hey hey. Look at my girl!
Suddenly got the urge to draw another sketch of my Hobw Robin. Took longer than needed
He is complete
First detailed drawing I’ve ever done of Reaver, only took me 5 hours
FABLE TRAILER FABLE TRAILER FABLE TRAILER
WE WON GANG AND I ALREADY HAVE A THEORY.
My friend and I had a rant after we saw the trailer cuz she is the only person I know who likes the game. And I was rewatching the trailer for the 10000th time and I noticed something. Every npc that the player talks to speaks in some way. All except one, the guy who puts his hand on the hero’s shoulder when Humphrey says ‘chancers’.
Now.
I might be being delusional. Or too in love to accept anything else. But I KNOW THAT PRETTY BROWN HAIR. I KNOW THAT NOSE. And I am CONVINCED that that mf has to be my boy Reaver.
He is the only npc that doesn’t speak, even the player speaks. Reaver has the most recognisable voice in the entire franchise (Therese being closely behind) thanks to the goat that is Stephen Fry. If Reaver was in the game they wouldn’t show any voice lines, they’d wanna have a semi big reveal like they did in Fable 3. Leaving hints throughout the game before they introduce him into the story.
And with this game being set before 2 (the guild being very much alive and very much not burned) this potentially being Reaver means that’ll be before Oakvale burned. MEANING WE MIGHT SEE IT.
And the hand on shoulder? The look? THE SUNSET? ROMANTIC MUCH?
WHAT IF???? JUST WHAT IF???? The ‘her’ that Reaver talks about in his diary entries in Fable 2 is the hero we play as in this game. It’s not as likely mainly because we don’t know if the hero will be strictly female, we may get a gender selection. But imagine!!!!! I will take any excuse to romance reaver! Even if that means I’ll be killed in a town spread fire after he sacrificed me to stay a pretty boy forever!
REAVER! I SEE YOU!
On the Dock
Fable 2 one shot
This is technically the prologue for a bigger fanfic that I’m in the process of writing but knowing me that’ll take forever so I’m posting it here as a one shot. This is basically a look at Sparrows mental state directly after the spire, that moment always felt weird playing it so here’s what it was like for Sparrow to live it.
{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}
She didn’t move. The wooden dock creaked under her feet, the gentle waves wrapping around the beams securing its place. The wind pushed past her gently, so gently that her hair, her clothes, nothing moved. She didn’t move. The sounds of trees and the hustle and bustle of oakfield met her ears and she heard them but she hadn’t heard them, in that moment she was without senses, she took in no sound, she noticed nothing about her surroundings , she didn’t feel the wind sting her just as she didn’t feel the gun still in her hand. Warm. She didn’t move. She was separated from that moment, she was nowhere at all, her body stood on that dock but her mind was transfixed on the spire, away from it but staring. Staring.
There was a sense of injustice. Injustice at the fact it was over so quickly. Her whole life she had spent preparing for one moment, 20 years full of sacrifice after sacrifice all leading her to that moment. 20 years of purpose against a lifetime of nothing. It was over. Her vengeance gave her a reason, a reason to keep fighting not just for herself but for the world, for Albion, for Rose, and now she had nothing but a feeling of emptiness and a statue with her name. How could she live a normal life without that goal? How could she live knowing she filled no purpose? For the first time in a very long time she felt utterly alone.
Her faithful friend was taken from after her. Her companions had vanished one by one in front of her, leaving her behind, living their lives. One by one, her only comfort through it all, some more than others, some for more selfish reasons, had gone. Her quest was done, her half cocked mission was completed and all that was left was this intolerable nothing.
Why?
She blinked at the spire, her mind returning to that moment, the dock creaking beneath her feet, the gentle waves beneath it, the wind pushing past her short hair, and the sounds. She noticed it all. She clenched the gun in her hand and moved her gaze from the spire.
She didn’t move.
It was nice meeting you
Fable one shot
This takes place around 2 years after the events of Fable 3 and Logan is forced convinced to go to a festival is Oakfield. While sulking in the nearby woods he meets a someone with an appreciation for ale and music.
OC content
(———————————)
Even with the hustle and bustle of the golden oak festival, and the distant music of bards and the cheers of the crowd, Oakfield was peaceful, far more peaceful than Bowerstone had ever been with its loud and crowded city air, it offered an escape from the castle and the ever tiring looks of disdain from the Queens court. It was only natural that one could be swept along with the festivities and give their mind a break.
Logan however, could not. Even when he was there with the rest of Oakfield he couldn’t allow himself to relax, he stood away from crowds and watched his sister mingle with the townsfolk and dance with that soldier boy, actually enjoying herself. His mind was too preoccupied to join in, now and then he’d catch people staring, glaring at him, making him retreat even more. He had expected as much, he hardly blamed any of them for their discomfort, if his sister hadn’t come to him with such insistence and begged him to attend, he would’ve stayed home. He paced along the edge of the water, a fair way away from the celebration in town to give himself some space to think. Why was he here? Why did it ever occur to him that this might be a good idea? He could barely return to the castle without an intense wave of regret washing over him, a festival, with it’s joy and merriment and devotion to all things good and pure, was even worse for it.
Logan wondered if his sister had noticed his absence and if she would notice if he took a carriage back to the castle. His feet had barely began to walk back to the direction of town before a sound caught his attention. The sound of the festival had been muffled under the waterfall and rusting of trees, but he could hear this one clearly, the singing, and it wasn’t far from him. He walked cautiously towards the sound, towards the old Wellspring his mother had been all those years ago
As he approached the steps of the old ruined entrance, the music becoming clearer and clearer with each step he took, he could make out a figure at atop the crumbling wall strumming a lute and singing. The young man had his eyes closed with his head turned towards the sky, seemingly lost in his song. The sun shone through the trees making his chestnut hair appear almost red. Logan stood a few feet away from the man with his shoulders square watching as he’d muddle some of the words and curse under his breath before continuing his playing.
“Woe’s my heart I walk alone. Far from him…far from- far from…me? Oh for the love of…” The man’s voice had a soft lilt to it and it cursed again as the man repeatedly struggled with a section of the song and adjusted his position, he let the lute rest in his left hand and took a swig of an Ale bottle that from where Logan was standing appeared out of nowhere. “Oy Da how did you do it?” The man mumbled to himself and adjusted his position again so he could continue playing, before he could he looked up and noticed Logan standing a few feet away watching him intently “oy good Mornin’ down there! Howya?” The man beamed down at Logan, his enthusiasm at a crowd was obvious and the sudden change in atmosphere made Logan recoil.
“Pardon?” Logan put his arms behind his back, his blank face incongruous to the confused tone of his question.
“Howya. How are you? Enjoyin the festival?” Logan prepared to answer with a firm ‘no’ but the man continued speaking and he lost his chance “don’t let my current playing sway ya. I’ve got better tunes with me for when I perform I promise you that”
Logan looked at him curiously “you’re a performer?”
“Oh yeah! I’m on at sunset so I’ve got a ways to go yet” the man turned his body fully towards Logan so his legs were dangling off the edge of the wall. He rested the lute in his left hand again and took another swig of his ale, which Logan could now see did in fact not appear out of nowhere. He pointed towards town with the bottle in his hand “not havin fun?”
“I rarely find any social event entertaining, but my sister was expected to make an appearance and insisted I come along. I had to respect that” Logan walked a few paces to his right, his arms still glued behind his back. He looked back at the town, thinking surely his sister must have noticed he was gone now and he wondered if he should go back, the thought of the townsfolk made him shake off the thought.
They were silent for a moment, Logan now facing away from the man and staring at the town. His attention was back on the man at the sound of his giving a short whistle in his direction. His head snapped back.
The man pulled a face at Logan’s sudden acknowledgement before laughing slightly his hand holding his lute was extended towards Logan “Oy bud, mind holdin this, it’s just I wanna get down but I’ve got some drink in me and I don’t wanna drop her”
Logan stared at him for a moment before taking a breath and stepping toward him. He carefully took the lute from the man and held it in both arms.
“Right don’t break her” he pointed at Logan with the ale bottle in hand again “she belonged do my Da” he placed his foot on a protruding piece of stone from the wall and twisted his body so he could scale the wall down. Now and then his foot would slip and Logan would instinctively step forward but the man was quick even in his half drunken state and managed to catch himself before he fell, the wall wasn’t particularly tall so if he were to lose his footing, it would have little to no effect on him.
Once he was down he pulled at the cuffs of his rolled up sleeves and wiped at pieces of dirt that clung to his purple tunic. He was shorter than he seemed now he was facing him, coming up to Logan’s chest and Logan could make out freckles and a faint scar across the bridge of his nose. He took another swig of his ale and gestured towards his lute “Ta very much” he took the lute back in his hands and secured it to his back using a leather strap. why he didn’t do that before instead of pawning it off on Logan, he would never know.
The man went to take another swig of his ale but pulled a face when he realised the bottle was empty “Oy” the man gave a dissatisfied sigh “Right. I’m headin’ back to town if I wanna stock up on some drink before that thieving gobshite Colin nicks it all” He begins to walk away, turning back as he walked “it was grand meeting ya bud, come watch me perform yeah? Might cheer you up like”.
He turned away from Logan and sauntered towards the town. As he walked Logan took notice of his fingers tapping rhythmically against the ale bottle
Logan stood still for a moment debating if he should return to the town. He worried for his sister and a part of him hoped she was worried for him, for a moment he turned towards the town and prepared himself to walk back. Then the image of their faces flashed in his head, and he was reminded that no on in Oakfield apart from his sister really wanted him there.
He turned away and began to walk back to the stream.
The sound of that lilted voice yelling after him caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks. He spun around to see the man standing at the end of the path “Oy! Bud! my Mammy raised me with manners so I apologise”
“For what?” Logan yelled back at the man with a clear authoritative voice, addressing the man as if he were a soldier in his guard.
The man beamed. “For not introducing myself sure” he said it so matter of fact as if it was obvious as to why he was screaming at Logan from several feet away “I’m Braeley. Braeley Briggs”
Logan’s face remained stern “Logan” Logan bowed his head slightly “It’s a pleasure to meet you”
Braeley’s face dropped slightly for a brief moment and Logan felt his stomach drop at the resemblance to the looks he got from the townsfolk. Logan squared his shoulders in defence.
Braeley’s face furrowed in thought then changed after a few seconds and Logan thought he saw his shoulders jolt with a huff of laughter, then he smiled again.
“it’s nice to meet you Logan “
A folktale from an imaginary land. What's good for the dragon need not be good for the sailor, and no malevolence is required for ill fortune to strike.
Pretty much everyone believes that after this, Fable is going to continue going after minor gods and god vessels, but my question is, does he need to?
While we dont know if Fable has gained his immortality back or not, we know that he now has the power of 3/4 of the major gods, aswell as the powers of several minor gods. At this point, he's has the power to freely travel the dimensions without use of portals, make new dimensions, and has enderian's mind control powers
What I'm saying is, I think the only person he intends on going after now is either Athena or Netherum himself, which he can easily do now. After that, he will have the power of all the major gods. I dont think anyone but the primordials could really get in his way
This also means that he could easily attempt to remove the portal from Icarus again (unless he needs his immortality for that). Except this time, he can easily mind control anyone who tries to get in his way.
This also means that through Enderians powers, he'll probably have an easier time keeping the co-workers loyal.
Idk maybe I'm just making alot of assumptions about powers and Fable is capable of doing. I just had some thoughts and figured I'd share them
how every fable game starts: it’s chewsday, innit
how every fable game ends: the most nuanced, heartbreaking and ultimately cathartic depiction of loss and trauma and grief and tragedy you’ve ever fucking seen
how every fable game starts: it’s chewsday, innit
how every fable game ends: the most nuanced, heartbreaking and ultimately cathartic depiction of loss and trauma and grief and tragedy you’ve ever fucking seen
how every fable game starts: it’s chewsday, innit
how every fable game ends: the most nuanced, heartbreaking and ultimately cathartic depiction of loss and trauma and grief and tragedy you’ve ever fucking seen
how every fable game starts: it’s chewsday, innit
how every fable game ends: the most nuanced, heartbreaking and ultimately cathartic depiction of loss and trauma and grief and tragedy you’ve ever fucking seen
