- Pronoun
- They/Them
Over a century ago during the first waves of colonization, the pocket of distortion now known as Lumirror Forest had been highly sought after due to an incredible rumor that spread far and side. Its original phrasing was lost to time, but considering just how much the trees' white bark shimmered in the sunlight as though they were mirrors — even to the point of reflecting images — there had to have been something, so many thought. Many even settled on the larger butte nearby hoping to strike it big.
They found naught a vein of gold nor a sign of mystic powder — not even a shiny trinket to take home. The nearby settlement became known as the "Town of Tall Tales", and many left the "Fool's Forest" for good. But those that remained continued searching, and found the answer sitting right in from of them: the bark itself! The paper it made was plentiful, far sturdier than normal, and even had a signature sweet scent that soothed the soul. A true reflection of hidden miracles if one changed their perspective, like glass in the light. And so, Lumirror Forest it became.
But then, just as quickly as the miracles sparkled did they fade as the forest's inner trees clumped together and the dungeon closed. Many believed that perhaps a fairy sold the secret of their paper making and angered the forest's spirit. The technique faded away from collective consciousnesses. Still, the village embraced its reputation and the plentiful paper it had stockpiled, slowly becoming the town of stories known as Little Scriven.
Ever since the Entropic Crisis a couple of decades ago, the dungeon has opened its branches once more. The locals have been ecstatic to try to harvest this mirror-like bark once more, though many find themselves lost in a sea of light as they delve deeper inside. Some even say the forest is opening even more by the day, and soon the town would be engulfed in its glittering glamour. But that can't be true, right?
They found naught a vein of gold nor a sign of mystic powder — not even a shiny trinket to take home. The nearby settlement became known as the "Town of Tall Tales", and many left the "Fool's Forest" for good. But those that remained continued searching, and found the answer sitting right in from of them: the bark itself! The paper it made was plentiful, far sturdier than normal, and even had a signature sweet scent that soothed the soul. A true reflection of hidden miracles if one changed their perspective, like glass in the light. And so, Lumirror Forest it became.
But then, just as quickly as the miracles sparkled did they fade as the forest's inner trees clumped together and the dungeon closed. Many believed that perhaps a fairy sold the secret of their paper making and angered the forest's spirit. The technique faded away from collective consciousnesses. Still, the village embraced its reputation and the plentiful paper it had stockpiled, slowly becoming the town of stories known as Little Scriven.
Ever since the Entropic Crisis a couple of decades ago, the dungeon has opened its branches once more. The locals have been ecstatic to try to harvest this mirror-like bark once more, though many find themselves lost in a sea of light as they delve deeper inside. Some even say the forest is opening even more by the day, and soon the town would be engulfed in its glittering glamour. But that can't be true, right?
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