Chrysalis — The Dawn of Mooland Tales

UPDATED: 2024-11-21 3820 WORDS

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WORK IN PROGRESS! — v0.8/15

2. Once Upon a Time with Moopheus ¶

It was barely early afternoon. Moopheus was still sorting his bottles from the day's harvest. "Good afternoon! Are you still busy?" — "In fact give me a moment will you. I need to label these clearly. A couple of these bottles need to be safely wrapped up and kept separate from the rest. Water from the Bitter Pool can ruin the entire collection if it spills on the way."

"So what do you actually do with all of this harvest at the Essence Islands?" — "Look girls, if you want the long answer, drop by at the islands sometime. Some of it we store raw, some of it we distill, some essences we mix together and let them age. Really still rather in the middle of sorting all this out. Why don't you go and wait by the four springs. I'll join you there in a bit."

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His essences finally in order and his thoughts at peace, Moopheus joined the girls at the springs. He was actually quite excited. It was a welcome break from the chores of this ordinary and uneventful assignment. He was filling in for several harvesters, out for a workshop at the Heatlands Labs studying volatile elements extraction. Not that he didn't appreciate the importance of every essence, but it was a month-long stretch of the same old for him. With no travel company and plenty of spare time on his hands, sharing his tales with a keen audience was just the sort of thing he enjoyed.

In the following, we must limit the volume of stories shared. Sorry about that. He must have told hundreds and hundreds of them over the month that followed. A full account of Izzy and Manny's talks and adventures with Moopheus would easily grow into a very big book. Today is not the day for that book. What you're about to read is a sampling of some of the legends that surfaced. Hold your horses for "The Legends of Moopheus" — coming out in its due season as a separate volume. Our pair of young scribes is still in training. For now, please enjoy the buffet of story hour crumbs we share.

The Very Peaceful Rock ¶

We join Moopheus at the Grasslands in our first slice of legend. Grasslands is a nurturing band of endless pastures at the heart of Mooland, stretching from the inner Deeplands Caldera all the way to the outer band of the Riverlands. This isn't one of the epic expeditions where Moopheus and his team negotiate with mythical creatures or land with a cache of epic and extraordinary substances — but it's a jolly good old story all the same.

"So we often follow up on reports reaching the Essence Archives. We have dozens of scouts traveling the realms, checking in at every realm at least once in a fortnight. They bring in briefs of local ongoings and keep their eyes peeled for anything extraordinary. Something extraordinary suggests there may be new essence emerging. Retrieving essence is what we harvesters do. These reports are forwarded to the Cardinal Conservator who reviews them. If it seems credible enough, we dispatch a team to investigate, always ready with their harvest gear.

"A couple of decades back, we received a report from the Plateau of Presence at the Grasslands. It's an unusually peaceful pocket of pastures at western Grasslands, somewhere half-way between the Riverlands and the Deeplands. There was, or so the report said, a rock slab that was so peaceful that if you sat on it, you wouldn't be able to get up again. It would zone you into eternal peace. A young Moocow had been parked there for a full week, motionless, not responding to anyone. We thought the presence of peace there might have crystallized into a rock.

"So there we went, and there he was, a youngster from the Riverlands, sitting like a rock on top of a round slab of rock. It was a fantastic rock, but I had my doubts. The Keepers of Peace there were altogether dumb and unconcerned about the whole affair. If you were lucky enough to get a word out of their mouths, it was along the lines of 'Is there. It's okay.', which wasn't helpful at all. On average, there wasn't much going on in their minds, or even with their bodies. They were just there, carefree and abiding in peace. Which is exactly the way it should be.

"It was the time to put this to a test. I sat on the ground, facing him, and observed for a moment. He really was very still and completely out of the ordinary world. With a deep breath, I poured out a very particular tuning of moo — from beyond the bottom of my belly with a slowly rising pitch — to see if he'd snap out of it. And snap out he did, opening his eyes and wiggling his limbs again. We took it slowly, he was groggy as a moole. Living not too far from there, his family were based around the border of the Riverlands, where streams dive and merge into the aquifers under the pastures. He'd been staring into the hidden depths for weeks on end — before one fateful day drifting to the Plateau of Presence.

"Turns out this report originated from one of the more enthusiastic calving sisters from the Birthing Pastures. They're often a bit bubbly and less patient than the rest of the Grasslanders. She'd only just briefly seen the youngster there. Struck with care and concern, she'd galloped back and, driven by a blend of compassion and imagination, was telling everyone all about it. A novice scout took note of this without doing due verifications, beyond just confirming that there's indeed a young Moocow still sitting still there. And that's the report we landed with.

"Anyway, it was a fun little adventure. It wasn't about the rock at all. The essence was in his mind. This wasn't for our department to handle. His parents were well aware of the youngster's temperament and had learned not to worry too much when he zoned out. It happened all the time. His episode at the very peaceful rock turned into a spontaneous rite of passage. There was no real future for him at the Riverlands and the family had surmised as much. The moonks at the Island of Mū were pleased to welcome this very peaceful youngster into their community. He's now the presiding abbot at the Hermitage of Stillness, one of the eight branches of the monastery there. We did take a sample of that rock just in case."

Telepathic Myntiworms ¶

Our next slice of legend takes place at the far reaches of northern Peaklands. Peaklands is a mountainous half-band of a realm across the higher hemisphere of the Mooland cookie — bordering Highlands at the inner band, reaching the Edge of the Cookie over an unexplored and mysterious strip of insurmountable terrain. This is one of those legends where Moopheus and his team negotiate with mythical creatures.

"So Manny, you know that no Mantisian in their right frame of mind would ever wander further than a dozen kilomantihops from the northermost shrine, right? It turns out our destination was well beyond that, way past the mid-way point between the Shrine of Projections and the north edge of the cookie. We were following up on a report of glazy-eyed Vertigoats wandering into the shrines. As in, straight into the shrines. It was our usual team, the five of us — me, harvesters Mooris and Mobby, scouts Mauchie and Moongo. We were a tight crew back in the days.

"Once we got to the Shrine of Projections, the high priestess pointed us to one such Vertigoat specimen. Poor creature kept on ramming itself into a solid corner, figuring there was a portal there to the other side. The caretakers had left a bowl of water and some wild shrubs next to the confused goat, keeping it there for observation. It wasn't looking good at all, had been going on since their early morning ceremonies. The running theory was that local Vertigoats had come upon a new meadow somewhere far in the north, munching on plants that were developing weird essences. All bets are off when a plant absorbs rays from the lower bands of the planetary halo for their routine photosynthesis.

"We set march toward the general direction of far north, with no real bearings or coordinates at this point. Lady Manteizy, the priestess who knew the lay of the land, joined in. Her insight and vision seemed like they'd come in handy down the road. None of us had ever been that far north, all we had to go on were wild stories. After four or five hours of proper trekking, we found two flocks of Vertigoats at the base of a steep ridge. One of them seemed normal. The other flock was under a strange spell, a number of glazed creatures were still climbing back down the ridge. Looking at their faces, you would've expected them to come tumbling straight down, but the lesser half of their wits were still sharp as ever.

"Not the sort of ridge you'd ever imagine a bunch of Moocows going up, but we had proper gear and it wasn't our first climb to harvest essence in hard-to-reach places. The priestess wanted to trial a couple of approaches to sort out the glazed flock, so she stayed back. Heave by heave, we pulled our weight upward and made it to the edge of the ridge. It was another one of those ridge-lined Peaklands heat pockets that often host unusual plants — but this one also had caverns and a northernly opening with a panorama straight to the ever-glowing golden halo. It was a fantastic space, but the plants there all looked reasonably normal for a pocket. No mutations or weird colorings to indicate anything unusual.

"At that point, four huge Mantiwyrms burst out from the southern cavern, flanked us, started making intimidating approaches. I'd come across Mantiwyrms before, but these creatures were something else. There was an arcane power oozing from them. Mooris, one of our crew, made the mistake of staring one of them into the eye. You know, the glowing third eye smack middle their foreheads. It's hard not to be drawn to. He was falling into a trance. This was telepathic projection on sight. 'Peripheral vision only! Do NOT make eye contact!' I tossed some Bittermynt powder over Moorie's face. Always keep a pouch with me. It brought him back to his senses, but that stuff isn't pleasant in your eyes.

"There we were, stuck back-to-back and surrounded by mythic beings, keeping our distance and bellowing out whatever magic moos we'd picked from the wizard moonks at the islands, passing around the Bittermynt. Distracted them just enough. Mauchie found an opening to slip away and alert the priestess. 'Moo, MA-Moo, Moo-Moo-MA!', he bellowed over the ridge. So we have a codex of sixty-four such signals, carries clear over distance. It means something like 'Dark, Fire, Attention!'. Mantisians who study the Visions of Manisee learn a similar system, so she picked right up on it and buzzed to the topside to our aid. Just as well she joined in for the trek — there was no way all of us would've escaped on our own.

"Little did we know, Lady Manteizy was actually an elder adept in the Eye of Command, an ancient Mantisian technique of hypnotic projection. When she oriented to the scene and booted up her mystic art, I tell you... Those weirding eyes I'll never forget. She made straight eye contact with every one of the Mantiwyrms. Spinning in circles and covering the four directions, the matrix in her eyes reconfigured and reflected back their telepathic projections. In short order, the creatures tamed down and retreated back to their cavern. This place, we called it the Mantele Plateau, ended up on the general off limits list. A living thorny fence was planted all around the base of the ridge to keep Vertigoats from wandering up there. The topside is now a sanctuary for these extraordinary creatures. Manteizy still checks in on them every once in a while."

3. Welcome to the Jungle ¶

Next up, we wander into the dense jungles at southern Riverlands. Riverlands is a full band of a realm surrounding the Grasslands, bordering Highlands across the higher hemisphere, stretching all the way to the Strangelands — almost — in the lower realms. There's a thin sliver of Highlands separating the two realms, but strange effects emanating through the Bridge Underlands are loud in the whole of the south. Moolandians usually just stick to marveling the jungle from the safety of the Hang-Out Bridge at the Highlands.

"Ever been to the jungle, kids? I hope you didn't go alone. That place is full of all sorts. It was our usual team on the road. The miner consortium of Strangelands, digging around at Bridge Underlands, had sent in a report about a massive tunnel that seemed to stretch all the way to southern Riverlands. It was full of precious substances they'd never seen before. A separate underground team was dispatched to the Strangelands. Our crew was sent to the southern jungles to investigate plant-life anomalies.

"If you head in there, make sure you have enough moosquito repellent. Hideous creatures, those. We had a full extra backpack ready to make sure we don't run out. It wasn't just the little buggers we had to worry about, though — heard of the Wave Tigers? Gorgeous light blue creatures, usually lurking in the streams. They're amphibian, you know — they live mostly underwater, but they'll surface and run across the jungle and back if they feel like it. It's one of the few predators on our planet. They usually chase down the fish in the rivers, but they'll take down a Moocow if you happen to disturb a mother with her cubs.

"Anyway, so we were trekking through this green labyrinth and lost our bearings every so often. Of course we had a compass, but it only helps you so much if you can't go straight. Wandering somewhere in the heart of the jungle, more or less lost, we came across a camp of Medicine Moos. They call them shamoos for short. Not sure what it's short of, but sure it's shorter. They had a very good idea of the paths through the jungle — and, to our surprise, knew about the strange tunnel underneath. None of them had been there, as in actually, but they knew it from their visions. Medicine Moos do this thing where a pot is filled with exotic plants and left to brew under the full moon. In the morning the chief shamoo dunks their head into it for fifteen minutes. They see things.

"One of them joined in for the journey. They were curious about our expedition. After clearing through a number of quickswamps and chopping down some vine thickets when there wasn't a way around — good thing the shamoo brought his slash blade — we saw a massive flower shimmering like a gemstone, shaped like a gemstone too. 'That's not usual at all, never seen that!', said the shamoo. We were clearly in the zone. His reaction suggested this was a new development. It's possible that substances in the tunnel became activated when the opening was breached by the miners, and it was all now migrating into the ecosystem. Not too far down the road, an opening in the dense canopy revealed a field with all sorts of peculiar plants basking in the sun.

"We took out our sample kits and split up to extract some plant materials to bring back. Something odd was in the air. All of a sudden, Mauchie started giggling for no reason at all. Uncontrollably. Then I found Mooris just sitting sad in the bush, so depressed he couldn't get a word out of his mouth. Mobby seemed to be very agitated by something. Kept butting his horns into the ground, a small crater there at that point. Moongo was chasing after anything and everything like it's the most interesting novelty in the world. A sense of fear was creeping up my spine — and that's when I pulled a fabric from my backpack and covered my snout nice and tight. The pollen from the plants was psychoactive — as in, it messes with your head when you inhale it.

"I grabbed some Bittermynt from my pouch — that stuff has saved my hide more than once — and shoved some into each of their noses to reset their senses. It has bite. The shamoo kept on puking in the background, I have no idea what went down with him, but it looks like he managed to clear the pollen from his nostrils in the process. We all put our fabrics on and continued with the samples. Pooled up a decent selection of plant pollen laced with mysterious minerals. If I hadn't figured out it was the pollen, no telling how far gone we'd ended up. Might have never returned. This stuff was going straight back to the Integrator Incarnate, our elder at the Essence Archives. He has a higher wit that's never phased, even by exotic essences like these."

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Moopheus eventually continued his journey into the southern realms in search of the next essences on his very long harvest list. Izzy and Manny landed with a treasure trove of tales to reflect on. And really, they ended up musing and contemplating on just about everything they had ever experienced or imagined in their lives. It was the dawn of a new chapter in their story — a chapter that would easily rival the epic adventures of Moopheus himself. Today is the day for exploring that chapter — this is the book of Izzy and Manny's ground-breaking quest across all of Mooland.

Reflecting on the all the marvelous tales Moopheus had shared, they realized that truly precious things — the kind everyone longs for — are always worth sharing. There were all the legends of Moopheus, then the stories they had heard from the countless other visitors to the Riverlands — and for good measure, the abundance of tales they'd been hearing from Izzy's grandmother Ammoolia since they were mere toddlers. Izzy and Manny were sitting on a significant chest of living treasures. It'd be selfish to not do something about it.

Izzy was humoring herself with the idea of becoming a wandering bard, traveling from realm to realm and singing the best of her tales. Her voice wasn't exactly the sort that attracts a big audience, even if she could come up with series of rather charming moos up and down an octave or two. Manny was busy mapping the stories in her mind. She had a way of sorting out significant volumes of content into her inner spaces. Sort of. It often made her seriously spinny — to a point where it looked like she dropped off the edge of her cookie. Again. Izzy was used to that by now.

"Do you think we should write all of this down?", asked Manny — though really she knew the answer already.

"If indeed we did", said Izzy, "it would touch and open a thousand hearts in every realm of Mooland."

In a rush of inspiration, Manny took it straight to the next level. "Moopheus was talking about the Rainbow Spire at the center of the Central Ocean. Where other Doughland planets have their embassies. He'd definitely help us drop some copies there. I mean, he helped train the Guardian of the Gateway back in the days. I see interplanetary horizons opening. Izzy, this could be extraordinary."

"From where I look at things", said Izzy, "it doesn't matter if it's all of Mooland, every Doughland planet, or all the galaxies in the universe. When I hear these sorts of tales, I feel what others feel, and I see the world through their eyes. Stories from the realms are bridges that bring us all together. They are like seeds of unity. Are we then the gardeners? Do I sound like a bard yet?"

Izzy and Manny weren't exactly authors. They had lots of enthusiasm, two vibrant hearts in the right place, and a pretty good sense of what truly matters in life. That's really what matters the most — the rest will fall in place. Just move ahead and do what's right, guarding your pure intention — and be true to yourself, always keep your spirit real. Listen to the world around you, follow your dreams and your calling. For Izzy and Manny, there was clear calling that was growing louder and louder. They were on a journey to share something special with the whole universe. It was a beautiful dream in the making.

"Honestly Manny, I have no idea where to start or where to end. Or even what to do in between. I mean, I can read and write and stuff. I've read a couple of books, but that's about it. How would we write down and organize like a thousand stories?"

"We'll figure it out!", said Manny. "We always figure things out, don't we?"

"We should visit the orchards. Grandma will help us wrap our heads around this."