#1157 Kelpie
callmeFlo
- Created
- 5 years, 10 months ago
- Designers
- https://www.deviantart.com/moondustedmonday https://www.deviantart.com/mamasaurus https://www.deviantart.com/life0n callmeFlo
- Favorites
- 17
Profile
masterlist . gp tracker . aesthetic
there are legends about these wetlands and you’ll do well to heed them. parts of the fen are deeper than they look, some of the animals aren’t what they seem, the plants aren’t all unmoving. try not to touch the water and don’t take what isn’t yours. if you tell a story to the algae, perhaps whatever’s following you will stop.
and if you get lost - don’t follow the hoof prints.
available as a creator
can be depicted in artwork, writing, and interactions
- she's long and skinny, looking not unlike a snake as she drifts in the water
- sharp black quills protrude from her back
- strung around her form are long, trailing roots of her nature feature, on which she hangs her collection of tf rewards, accessories, and gifts
- her forelegs are made of mosaic flowers, which can drift apart and let petals loose
- her dark, sleek fur allows her golden flecks to glitter all the brighter
everglades shadows
the wetlands here are a mismatch of shallow fens, deep ponds, and deadly swamps. the seasons are fickle, sweltering one moment and then iced over the next. trees loom above, draping their leaves down in curtains that hide danger, and stories are told of the monsters that lurk below the water’s surface.
loose horse
on a wintery night too cold for snow, a quarter horse tugged their reins loose and wandered away from camp. there was no lead up, no drama, no purposeful attack - the mare just stepped a little too far in the search of the grass tips poking out of the ice and it broke beneath her hooves. of course she’d found a spot where the black water hid its considerable depths. she thrashed and whinnied, but the only response was Seventh’s approach, and with it the ice froze once more over the pony’s head and its enchantment froze the air with fear, and then its glowing eye went unblinking as the Kelpie became an esk.
suspended, single-minded
the (even unintentionally) traumatic start created an unstable creature. her first decade was spent in a churning, confused fugue, her form rippling and shifting in an attempt to reach equilibrium, to find what fits her. she emerged finally with an ominous, threatening vibration and a telepathic voice like spun spider’s silk, her bright eyes judging and challenging. but despite her intimidating appearance, she’s more likely to drift within the water like a dozing gator than act on any impulse. some would even call her mellow.
her name was given to her indirectly by the residents of the fishing village nearby. her aura and elemental do not go unnoticed and have sparked generations of cautionary tales of people straying too deep into the bayou for greed and never returning - like a kelpie from myth, dragging hypnotised men to their deaths. Kelpie likes this comparison a lot, but she rarely bothers to lead humans astray or transform them.
inspired by her name, she’s become a collector of stories. it’s now a common tithe paid to her by esk who pass through her waters, and each tale is immortalised into a trinket hung on her roots - a hagstone, a gem, a coin, each holding a memory. her favourites are those about her mysterious creator and the other most ancient wanderers.
her nature features have no deep meaning or relevance, but allow her to blend into the lush pond she floats within. the straggly roots hold her treasures and the mosaic petals form mesmerising patterns.
she doesn’t tend to leave the wetlands, never going beyond the docks and the fishing huts there, but she does slip into the conservatory’s waters from time to time. the magics within the wellspring fountains are alluring.
a fleeting presence
all Kelpie saw of her creator was the giant glowing eye through the dark water, and all she heard was the screaming dread of their approach. she’s glad Seventh didn’t stick around any longer.
