Start a Story, be your own Fable. (Create a Fable Thread)

JonesJ

I'm loving all these stories! These are great everyone!

JonesJ

Like the idea about stones. Very nice. Glad to see you have taken a disturbed character and created a whole new person we rarely get to see.

JonesJ

Oh wow! What are vivian and Gren going to do now? Please continue!

JonesJ

Love how you made Gren so evil! Tell me more!

DragonButter

Obviously you are doing a great job, as usual!

JonesJ

Wow. I am lost for words. I feel so bad for georgie after you placed your ideas as to the reason he is the way he is. This would make total sense. no one is born evil and you created something beyond the TWAU with a twist. Nice to see Bigby and him getting along. I hope you continue. Want to know more about the kids and what is to come. Great job pudding. Do you do this professionally btw? Besides a few grammer errors this is golden.

DragonButter

You didn't reply to his comment, fyi. ;) He'll see it though.

JonesJ

oh wow! Duh! Thanks for the correction btw. My comment above goes to you, pudding!

JonesJ

Wow what a jerk. He took the time to create a beautiful story and you had to come and ruin that. I'm not happy, either. I'm not a fan of Georgie but give it a chance. Porgie here has created a whole new look on the pimp. I'm pleased so far. I hope pudding you continue this story. So many emotions. BTW can you do more pictures of Carla and Gren. If you can, I mean. :) Know you must be busy and all.

LupineNoir

The whole Bigby as a kid thing I did not see coming, and I have no doubt that what you think of shall just as good.

LupineNoir

Isn't one of the great things about fan-fiction the ability to introduce some sort of dissent and give a different take on something? Georgie's character was clearly shown at the beginning to be the one we're familiar with, especially from The Wolf Among Us, yet we've clearly and believably seen why he is at first that way, and then how a change is brought about.

If you don't like Georgie to the point where, despite him being portrayed as a more rounded character, he still incites some much passion, why not take that and do something better with it than rile against someone's work in such a manner?

LupineNoir

Here's chapter two, which follows from part one done a few weeks ago, that following from a sort of prologue, and that from an odd beginning. It is going somewhere, I just spend too long thinking about where, and then changing my mind.

Chapter Two - Weasel Words

In the doorway to the Business Office, sometime around midnight.

A red mark forms on the hand in the jacket pocket, it's hold so tight on the screwdriver grip. Snow White opening the door had seemed a highly unlikely event to the person standing opposite her; indeed, he hadn't especially planned for it. Understandably taken aback then, yet not too much so as to enable him speechless.

"Oh hello, Miss White," says the Weasel in a tone such as one might take towards someone familiar they've bumped into on the street. However this was not the street and that someone was not particularly familiar.
"Hello. Mr Weasel, isn't it?"
"Why yes."
Miss White tries to consider through her mental fatigue why this weasel would wish to visit at an hour such as this. No reasonable - or acceptable - answer can she find, and so the question is directly asked.
"Mr Weasel, I'm quite worn out so please excuse my curtness - what the hell are you doing here?"
No immediate verbal response follows, though an expression upon Mr Weasel's face of desperately searching for an answer is evident.
"Whiskey!" He blurts as his right hand slips over the bottle in his pocket. "I owe Bufkin. For poker." A stone cold lie, even in the heat of that corridor.
Snow White's black eyebrows lower, her eyelids come together slightly around her sapphire pupils, and the unmistakable visage of a woman's disbelief is shown.
"I wasn't aware that Bufkin played poker."
Keep it together, Weasel thinks. "Oh dear. It would seem I've landed him in it then. I thought you would be out." The Weasel's mind utters only one word: bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.
Miss White's countenance softens and she resigns her self: "You know what? It doesn't surprise me, and I'm too tired to bother trying to be. He's in here" - a nod behind her - "but if you get him drunk I will charge you for the damage. Goodnight, Mr Weasel."
Phew, is the Weasel's mental response. "Goodnight, Miss White."

With that Snow White brushes past Mr Weasel, walks down the corridor, and then steps into the recently vacant elevator. The doors close, and she's gone.



The Business Office is home to many a marvelous, mysterious and wonderful object, and one or two sinister items also. Great relics from the Homelands, icons of Fable-kind; and at present a flying monkey called Bufkin. Winging his way back and forth with the dulled speed of a long day, Bufkin's green fur cannot quite reach a velocity adequate to remove the dust that has settled on it from the feytching of a great many old tomes, and so he has the appearance of a peculiar feather-duster.
Bufkin does not mind this however, as it shows his efforts in work and his attempts to help Miss Snow gain information which may assist in apprehending the killer.
"I should rather like a break though," Bufkin does ponder aloud as he flies towards Miss Snow's desk to collect the last couple of books to be returned. Immediately he stops and hovers when he notices a man standing next to the desk.

"Uhm, hello?" Bufkins inquires, very much made anxious by the presence. The presence, on the other hand, seems pleased to see Bufkin.
"Hulloa, Bufkin! It is I, Weasel." With this recognition Bufkin moves in to greet.
"Greetings, Mr Weasel. What brings you here?"

Decided upon a charm offensive Mr Weasel enthuses that, "there's really no need to be so formal, we are friends after all," ably brushing over the pertinent fact that they have not seen each other for many months.
"Sure," responds Bufkin, showing he had not forgotten the acquaintance. "Does Miss Snow know you're here though? She can get real angry." A slight wince from the Monkey.
"She knows: I met her at the doorway and she granted me entrance."
"Ah, okay." Bufkin relaxes and perches on the end of Snow White's desk. "I'm pretty tired so, erm, was is it that you need?"
"You and Miss White must be working very hard in this office, and that's what I like about you Bufkin: you're always ready to help." The speaker checks himself after saying this, lest his charm become too offensive. "I would like to view the records, specifically mine."
A hesitant question from the Monkey: "Does Miss Snow know that that's why you're here?"
"She let me in, didn't she? Besides, she knows I owe you this -" Mr Weasel produces a small bottle of single-malt, 15 year old oak cask whiskey. Bufkin is quickly enthralled. "If you do the favour of showing me the record."
"Oh, really?" is the eager response.
"Certainly. It's Scottish, by the way; a quality brand."
This final and most agreeable aspect of the drink being understood, Bufkin - fueled by an alcoholic desire - hurries to retrieve the relevant record. In his haste he forgets the remaining books on Miss Snow's desk.

He's gone some minute and a half, the book being of the awkward variety that hides and does not allow easy access to it once discovered. During that time the Weasel contents himself with the view of artifacts from the Homelands, as many have done who stand in that office. Revered statues; giant's armour; a majestic tree in the distance; even a wooden sailing ship is suspended from the ceiling, or so it would seem, the hull emerging from the gloom. To some they bring melancholy with the memories of better times, while to others, such as the current observer, the will to take back what was once theirs is instilled.

Bufkin, now alleviated of some dust, returns with a book three-quarters the size of himself, bound in a thick teal cover and adorned with shining metal points on the four corners. He places it carefully on the ex-desk of one Ichabod Crane, housing every wish to keep Miss Snow's work-space free from any unnecessary disturbance, for he would only have to tidy it again.
"It wasn't easy to find but there you go, 'Fables from the Riverbank," Bufkin informs Mr Weasel proudly, and not without a smile.
"I suppose that's why it's teal then," muses the recipient. "Thank you kindly, Bufkin. Here is what I owe," and he hands over the bottle. Enchanted by the amber liquid therein, the Monkey gladly takes it and flies to the top of an ancient mahogany wardrobe nearby, the spot being one of his favourite resting places. It also serves as an excellent platform from which he can observe the Weasel.

Having completed his somewhat unusual transaction with Bufkin, Mr Weasel's heart palpitates with the thought of the knowledge lying within the book before him. There are marks and impressions upon the surface of the cover showing that the book has had a life, though a mostly delicate one, as the gold gilt of the title remains entirely intact. The stark lighting in the room seems an insult to the care taken in the production of the book, so the Weasel switches on a desk lamp, and is then transfixed with the glint shining back.

Bufkin, meanwhile, has ended his observation in favour of attempting to open the whiskey bottle. He mumbles irritably to himself as his hands slip on the lid; teeth clamp around it next, as he considers that his mouth may prove more effective.

Mr Weasel presumes an alphabetical system to 'Fables from the Riverbank' and therefore turns the cumbersome article over, and starts turning delicately through the sail coloured pages, minding not to leave marks on the silver edging. The view of graceful script, intricate pictures, and rich inks envelope his eyes and captivate his mind by their wonder. That implacable obsession, to discover the tale that makes him, now seems distant and almost forgotten; an irony, given the context.

Keeping track of the entries, the Weasel spots one regarding Weyland Smith. He's close. A few more pages turned - he finds reference to a particular water-vole. That's too far. Retracing the pages and analysing each with a weasel's scrutiny, he is drawn to a blank gap which had previously escaped his attention.

Suddenly, his focus is arrested by a particularly vehement screech from the top of a certain wardrobe. Bufkin, most vexed by the stuck-fast bottle screw lid, is bashing said cap against the wood in a last-ditch attempt to remove it. Mr Weasel, irritated by the interruption, expels a loud cough whilst staring in the Monkey's direction; the Monkey, taking a brief respite from the exertion, notices this and gives an apologetic grin, before quietly settling down and simply staring at the bottle with a look of utmost indignation.

Mr Weasel, reapplying his scrutiny, regards the blank gap on the right-hand page. The paper colour is identical to the rest of the book - the ink has not washed off - yet surely the author would not unintentionally leave a divide such as this.
One moment.
He leans in close, nose almost a hair's breadth away from the page, and to his eyes a faint name is discernible on the left hand side: 'Percival Mintwood Weasel'. That is him!
Why should it be so faint though, and why should his entry be missing in such a peculiar manner.

"Bufkin!", Percival Mintwood Weasel calls out, interrupting the Monkey's disagreement with the whiskey bottle.
Bufkin, with some motivation required, rises and flies over to Mr Weasel, bottle in hand. "You know," he starts, "this lid will not come off. Any chance of some help?"
The Weasel ignores him; eyes fixed on the page, confusion whirling in his brain.
"Bufkin, why is this page blank?"
"Erm, what do you mean?" asks Bufkin, putting the bottle down and proceeding to stand next to the book.
"Here, look." Mr Weasel points to the gap. "Yet my name is here," and he then traces along the name on the page with his finger.
Bufkin places his head directly over the words.
"Oh, dear." The Monkey's voice shakes. "No. No, no, no, no, no. Not another, not again!"
"What is is, Bufkin?" A tension to the question.

Bufkin starts walking backwards over the desk, away from the book; his head darts around, his eyes dragged along behind. Thoughts and murmurs issue forth under his breath.
"We thought it had stopped. Oh dear, oh dear. Best tell Miss Snow!"
"Tell her what? What's going on Bufkin?" demands Mr Weasel. Anger begins to rise.
Bufkin addresses him directly: "I think you should go home now, Mr Weasel. Goodbye." The Flying Monkey starts flying away.
"Dammit, Bufkin! You get back here!"
"Go home, Mr Weasel!" Bufkin swoops off, deep into the office.
"Don't you fucking fly away! Bufkin! BUFKIN!"
The briefly inanimate whiskey bottle is launched directly towards the Monkey's last hovering location; it spins in an arc until colliding with the unforgiving stone floor, and shatters.

The Weasel is distraught: what's wrong with the book and page? Where was his entry?
What was he to do now?

Anger and despair overcome him. The brain is pumped with blood, the heart beats faster, and the limbs feel numb.

Mr Weasel propels himself out of the office - the heat has become too suffocating. The stairs are taken in favour of the elevator. Down he goes, boots hitting steps. The black jacket feels too close - he throws it to the floor, and rolls up the shirt sleeves. The entrance hall is passed through with no attention paid to surroundings. Entrance doors flung open, lightning tears the sky.

Rain falls heavily; large drops shooting from the sky land with force and cause miniature explosions in mud, gravel and dirt.
Thunder roars, the sound bouncing between buildings, creating an echo. It pounds the ears.
Simultaneous lightning strikes up high; electricity showing the clouds as vast mountains.

The rain cools the Weasel, yet the storm compounds his emotions; rage and sorrow continue unabated He moves forward, out of The Woodlands gate and into the street. Rationality is trampled and Mr Weasel knows not where to go.
A fierce flash and rolling thunder set him in motion moving deeper into the city. Wind gusts sporadically, nudging aggressively.

Neon signs glow causing hazed rainbows in the rain.

There is a small lamp lit in an alley, and the hope of shelter is produced. The Weasel walks in, gaping darkness swallowing him, the lamp the only beacon. Oblivious, he stumbles on a broom. Recovering and looking up, a colossal lightning strike highlights the alley, and an evil face with grey mangled hair is shown immediately before Mr Weasel.
A pistol is put to his head.
Thunder screams.

Markd4547

Superb as always really fast paced with high tension a great read loved it

pudding_pie

0.o...what happened just now?! Who shot who?! Oh this is epic! Very intense! Very enjoyable! Hope to read more. :)

pudding_pie

Thank you, JonesJ. :) No, I don't do this professionally. Its a hobby. I planned on continuing the story. We have a long way to go and as long as this thread is here and Dragon allows it, I will continue. Glad everyone is enjoying it so far. :)

DragonButter

Of course I'll allow it! This dragon appreciates all that has been written here. Are you planning on giving an ending to it eventually?

Markd4547

Agreed I never judge a story on how I perceive the character in the game. I remember when wrote a fanfic about TLOU someone read whole and just commented but Joel would not never say that so frustrating.

Base a story on the quality on the contents clear your mind don't let your already established ideas on a character take the story for what it is personally i enjoy seeing someone try different angles and get creative.

In my story Gren's Evil in your's a loving father do I think I'm right no because were just having fun with concepts to create an exciting story to read and create an adventure in your head into words etc

So far even if I see Gren as different I love seeing a different side plus your story maintained the high standards in all your chapters your trying something different and unique which should be applauded and succeed so far

pudding_pie

Yes. The end of the story is drawing near for Lyla and Georgie's story. I was thinking of doing a spin off now, focusing on her sister's relationship and how it will bring everyone together in the end. :)

pudding_pie

Part 2 section 4

"Cost, goodbyes and new beginnings"

Vivian was gone just as quickly as she had appeared. No one knew were she had vanished to; it was hard finding her whereabouts. Lyla was worried; would Junior be able to survive without her presents? Would his power grow stronger, despite the 'marking' she left him with? Swinheart and Lola assured the concerned parents that their son would no longer have the capability to derive his power for evil. Instead, he would use it only in good situations, like his sister. Vivian left a mark forever on the child, to help him use it to his advantage; like Georgie, he too was given a second chance. The tree symbol would help guide him now and forever, even in her absences.

The girls too, were growing quickly and displaying promising traits for the future. Emily was nothing more than a Fable like Georgie. She and her sister, Penny were titans; Lyla overheard Lola one day calling them 'soilders' and they would do nothing but marvelous things for the Fable community. Penny's powers were controlled quickly and she was capable to use them to her advantage; if mom or dad said no to something, it somehow 'magically' made its way into her crib. Katie was nothing more then a ball of fluff; her howling was stronger and every so often, she and the sheriff would sit in the club and howl. This drove Henry insane. She too, had complete control over her ability to change. Sometimes, when the moon was high above the sky and the only thing that can be seen are the stars twinkling above, Georgie and Lyla would take Katie to the forest located outside the city. There, she and Katie would transform and the two would run up and down the hills, howling into the night. Georgie would sit back and watch; he couldn't ask for anything else.

Georgie too, was making progress since the birth of the children. After his last incident back at the Business Office, Snow arranged for Georgie to seek professional help. With Lyla there for every session, he quickly over came his demons and put the rest the very thing that haunted him for centuries. No longer did the thought of his family and the homelands cloud his memories. He made peace with them, forgave everything that took place and allowed the new to fill his thoughts. He had a life time ahead of him to heal the wounds; no longer would a band aid be used to 'cover' what no one could see. It would be a rough road ahead, Georgie knew that for sure but he was no longer alone; not only did he have his family but the Business crew to back him up. Fabletown would take their time, he knew that as well but he was willing to wait. After all, everyone deserved a second chance; why not him?

Then the quads turned one, the Council and Superior made their visit to document the progress the babies have accomplished. They watched as Penny and Junior performed their magic on some furniture. They watched in amazement as the two babies waved their arms about and lifted chairs above their heads. Decimus said there was nothing wrong with their gifts; they were able to control it and use it in the fashion of good and nothing more. Nate, however, did not see this. He, to that day, still saw the babies as a threat, rather then a gift. Deep inside, he felt they were up to something; Vermilda had shown him and Malcom an older Junior using his ability to destroy Fables and Folkers alike. Although the final decision had been made, Nate swore from that day forward, he would watch the quads from afar. There is only so much you can conceal, he thought. Eventually, everything makes its way to the surface.

Mary continued working as a Lawyer but for the Fable community. She had found potential when she assisted her sister in the fight to protect the babies. Her calling in this world was to save those that were turned down for so long. At first, she teamed up with Bluebeard to help the Fables looking for sanctuary and the ability to live in the mundy world. (With a fee, of course) But his greed and lust for the 'rules' left a bad taste in her mouth; she broke free from Bluebeard and began a business on her own. This created problems for her; Bluebeard would not ignore this that easily. Gina and the Hans began dating no sooner after the birth of the quads. It opened her eyes to a whole new world; a life outside of the comfort she grew up believing. Despite his shy and mousy characteristics, she managed to have Hans open up enough for her to find SOMETHING decent inside; better than what she used to date in the past. Carla, however, managed to throw everyone for a loop. After graduating college, she took her sister's past job at the office; escorting those that didn't seem 'fit' for Fabletown. However, the rules were different now. Those that need help would be able to seek it and not sent off so quickly. Her father had retired from this position, so now she was in charge of the whole operation. Snow and Bigby never hesitated; despite her being a mundy, they allowed it.

Carla and Gren slowly became a couple. John, however, was not pleased with his daughter's choice. Although Lyla was engaged and had children with a Falbe, Gren was a whole different game; he HAD to have a glamour to hide his true identity; Georgie was a human and could pass easily with the mundies. Gren could not; this would be a much more difficult road for her then it was for Lyla. Secretly, they saw each other; like her sister, it was a risk she was willing to take.

There was still so much for everyone to learn. Indeed, this was just the beginning for all of them.

NOTE: This is the end of the road for Lyla and Georgie. I have told their story; now, my focus will be on Carla and what she will encounter in the Fable community and Folkers alike. Everything I tell between now and the end will all come together. This is only the beginning. :) Thank you all and hope you guys enjoyed my story. Now, onward to the next installment. Enjoy. :D

JonesJ

Oh that sounds interesting. Would love to see how they play out with all of this.

JonesJ

Oh can't wait to see what you do with Carla and her story! Hopefully her and Gren DO get together? ;) Saw your picture of them and can't wait! Glad to see Georgie and Lyla's story ended on a good note. Keep up the good work!

pudding_pie

Yes. They get together but it will a bumpy road for them; much more than Georgie and Lyla. The reason will be John and you all will see why. Glad you are enjoying them, dude. :) I know it seems like I cut it short but they have had their moment in the sun. Time for Carla's story.

pudding_pie

Well, I think they have had their time to tell their story. My goal was to create the humane side of Georgie; I just feel bad for the guy and wanted to create HIS story. glad everyone enjoyed it. :) Can't wait to start a whole new section.

LupineNoir

I appreciate you comments, especially as I admire your work. Thanks :)

LupineNoir

Thanks! I'm super-impressed by your writing so I'm glad you've enjoyed it :)

LupineNoir

Lyla and Georgie's journey has been a really intense ride, and you've put it together brilliantly. Thanks for sharing!

DragonButter

This may be my most tense one yet! Or just as tense like my 4th chapter, haha. Previous chapter of my story should be on page 7 of this thread.

Chapter 5: Out of the Frying Pan

Tez got out of the men's bathroom as quickly as he could, eventually sitting across from Snow again.

"Sn-Snow, we-, we need to get out of here."

"What? What are you talking about? I mean, we didn't even get our food yet!"

Tez whispered. "You were right to be suspicious about the waitress, Snow. She isn't a Mundy at all, she's a Fable. And, um, Bloody Mary is her name."

"How do you know that?"

"She... 'introduced' herself to me, she told me not to tell you. But I saw no need to be her loyal pet dragon. Besides, the things I saw happen in that bathroom? I don't want to even talk about a bad omen such as that."

Snow slumped back and rubbed her chin. "Shit. Okay, let's eat our food first and see what happens, we need our strength, especially you."

The dragon nodded in agreement, he was starting to see why Snow was suddenly calm and content about all this. Back when he was on the Farm: the thief remembered hearing all sorts of stories about Snow White, the main one being how she bravely stood up to the Big Bad Wolf himself, specifically turning him into a lycanthrope with just a mere dagger.

Snow broke him out of his thought-cycle. "Hey, I see you got that fork out, umm, hope you are fine. It was a simple reaction, nothing more."

Tezoth sighed. "I-"

"...And here is the food that you two have ordered." Mary was holding trays in both hands, drinks nearly spilling onto the floor. Her smile made them both uneasy.

Mary willingly placed the trays in front of them, she had a stare that pierced into their souls for a moment, then, she spoke.

"All righty, one ham and cheese omelet for the misses and one devilishly tasty Poisonous Apple Pie for the man behind the shades."

"Enjoy your meal..." She walked away and started chatting with the mechanic up in the store section of the place, as Snow turned around to see.

"That was her you supposedly saw in the restroom, correct?"

"Right, Miss White." Carefully picking up his fork, he dug it into his pie and tried cutting a slice."

Snow shook her head. "No dragon, you need a knife to cut it, not a fork." Tezoth rubbed his head. "Oh, I apologize, still getting used to this body and how humans operate in this world." He grabbed a knife in his other hand, properly cutting a perfect slice for himself.

"Of course." She politely grabbed a fork and knife too, Snow was cutting her omelet into various bite-size pieces for her to eat. Both of them then started to devour their food in silence, carefully sipping their drinks.

The diner was still just as busy the second they walked in the door. Mundies were coming and going, ordering their food, other waitresses serving, cooks slaving away at the stove and fryers, it was definitely an awkward moment for Snow, though it was much worse for Tezoth.

Snow checked her watch, the time was twenty minutes past noon now, which was way after her desired time to reach the Woodlands. She also noticed that the Mundy number in the diner had started to decline. She waved her hand over to a nearby waiter, he walked over.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Why is everyone leaving all of a sudden?"

"You didn't know? Restaurant closes at 1 PM today, every Saturday. You two have about, 30-ish minutes to get on out of here and hit the road. Well, speaking of which, you two look like you're done with your plates, I'll take them for you."

They let the Mundy waiter take the plates, while Mary walked over to their table once again.

"How was your-"

"Just give us the check, 'Mary'." Snow said to her with such disdain.

"Check? Oh no, there is no check. This food has been made for you weary travelers, completely on the house."

Tezoth and Snow were confused. "Free food?"

Mary ignored their clueless remark. "I almost forgot. That truck of yours? Mechanic didn't even work on it at all."

"Will you look at the time! Haha, it appears that the both of you will be sleeping in, eh, 3 minutes I should say. I had the cooks put loads of sleeping pills into your drinks, but hey! It's better than lacing your food with poison!"

Tez tried moving to grab Bloody Mary by the collar, but was too tired to even move his legs. "Snow... get out of here..."

Snow stretched her arms and yawned. "You, you... won't... get aw-, away? Away? This? Uhh, too tired to talk."

"Piece of shit." Tezoth's arms became limp with restlessness. Eventually the two of them were resting their tiresome heads on the hard table of the booth.

Bloody Mary sighed. "Way too easy, you really shouldn't have told her about our little get-together, Tezoth."

"Mike! John! Get over here and clean up this fucking mess, dump the both of them into the back of the truck. It's about time they meet our boss."

END, of Chapter 5.

pudding_pie

Thank you, everyone! :) Can't wait to start on the next section. Lyla and Georgie's intense ride has come to an end for now. On to the next!

DragonButter

Woo! Can't wait for Carla's now!

DragonButter

Looks like he won't 'weasel' his way out of this one. ;)

pudding_pie

Chapter 1 Carla Smith

'Mundy in a Fable world'

Age: 26

Description: Carla stood at 5' 3". Her long brown hair was always curled and done properly. Lately, she had it pulled back and neatly fashioned into a cute bun. She was a very nicely well built woman; long deer-like legs, soft pale skin and curves in all the right places; Gren always had some stupid, cheesy remark he would tell her: 'All those curves and me with no breaks!'

Abilities: Carla was not born with the gift of the wolf. Like her mother, she too was a mundy. But her sense of smell is ten times more powerful than the average mundy.

Carla had been up the past six hours; when she looked forward, the clock read noon. She was busy trying to file as much paperwork as she could before Snow returned with lunch. That day, everyone seemed on edge; Bigby didn't sleep well and Snow was frantically trying to prepare all the necessary papers needed for the day. Since her sister and Georgie's relationship was public, so many couples in their situation came forward; they too, needed help. The rules since then had changed drastically.

Yesterday, Carla had to hold back her laughter when she noticed who she was dealing with. The Easter bunny and his fiancee arrived to the Business office, hoping to get their paperwork situated. He was considered a 'Fable', she was an Elf. Carla assumed she was the typical Santa's workshop types; there were several different species of Elf that Carla had no idea existed. She just happened to be known as the 'Light' elves; their appearance was always the same: Blonde hair, blue, icy eyes and VERY pale skin, almost albino. The Easter bunny, currently glamoured as 'Kent Woodworth' needed paperwork for his bride to be. Her kind did not approve of the marriage, so they disowned her to ever return to their kind. He needed it to show his people. There was so much Carla had yet to learn. Now, her sister had opened up doors for MANY halfer couples to come from the dark and have a chance at a 'normal' life.

Snow did her best to explain it all; graduate school did not cover HALF of this mumbo jumbo.

"Fables are all under one roof, Carla," she explained. "You have those from story books and those mundies have created out of fantasy that continued for hundreds of years."

"Like Folk tales, Snow," asked Carla.

"They are almost very similar. The difference between them and Folkers, like Lyla and the others, are mundies actually believed they were real; werewolves, vampires-all of that. What YOU, Bigby and I do is protect the community within-the Fables that can not pass as mundies. For example, like ol' Mr. Easter bunny over there. He has a WHOLE different set of rule he goes by but because he falls under the category of Fable, he comes to us."

Carla felt like her mind gained twenty pounds of knowledge; she had so much more to learn about this world she knew so little of. She had watched her father periodically but it never caught her interest. Her sister Lyla was the only one out of the four of them to actually enjoy this kind of stuff. Carla now understood why her father looked so tired and the sheriff drank like a fish. She too, needed a beer. Snow just simply smiled and chuckled.

"You will get it, I'm sure," she said, as Snow placed a hand on Carla's shoulder. "Don't worry. For now, you just handle the paperwork and observe; watch how we do this and one day, you too will be doing this."

It all sounded so good; Carla made a promise to herself that the destination was simply this: Help those that were so long forgotten. She had Georgie to thank for this. Just as Carla's thoughts returned to her current situation, Snow startled her. She looked to the side and noticed her carefully put her sandwich and chips down. She watched as Bufkin flew from behind a book case and take his usual seat on top of Carla's lamp. She and the green, flying monkey quickly developed a friendship; when Bigby and Snow were both gone for the day, he was the one she spoke to.

"Hello, Miss Smith. Ready to take a break and eat some lunch?"

"You bet, Bufkin. I'm starving!"

Carla took a seat and opened up the bag of chips, just as Bufkin ripped of his piece of sandwich. She watched him examine it; he denied it but Carla knew he had some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder. Every time she got a sandwich or any kind of meal, he had to inspect it.

"Bufkin, its fine," laughed Carla. "I made sure there were no onions or pepper."

He continued checking every corner of the bread.

"You never know, Miss Smith," replied Bufkin. "They TELL you its not there but when you bite into the meal and you notice the very repulsive thing that makes your stomach do cartwheels, its no longer safe grounds! Always be safe, Carla."

Carla rolled her eyes; she could care less about an onion but Bufkin was working with her more often than before. Last thing she needed was a very distraught flying monkey in the office. As she continued chewing her food, she watched Bigby inhale his food. He was hilarious to watch; the Big Bad wolf had such an appetite and was acting like this was his final meal. He quickly opened his chips and with a fistful of potato crisps, shoved them into his mouth. She had been around Colin before; the freaking pig had better table manners then the sheriff. Bigby noticed Carla had her eyes on him; Snow, too was watching him devour the sandwich and chips. He instantly slowed down.

"What? I'm starving over here, guys!"

Snow and Carla laughed; things in the Business office had a calming sensation hovering above their heads. Carla couldn't remember a time when the tension was this small. It made things easy knowing her father FINALLY retired and left all of this; he had a good run but with his age and health, he needed to stay with their mother and avoid stressful situations like this. The whole trouble with Georgie and Lyla nearly put him in an early grave.

As Carla wiped her mouth and watched Bufkin finish the bag of chips, she noticed him carelessly walk into the office. In each hand, he held a beautiful bouquet of Lilies and in the other, a box of assorted chocolates. He was grinning from ear to ear; both eyes a shade of green and twinkling against the lights. Instead of his usual attire, he wore brown Khakis, black boots, gray sweater vest and white long sleeved shirt beneath it. His hair was neatly slicked back. Carla smiled; Snow and Bigby looked up to find he currently standing beside Carla. Bigby tossed one of his crisps.

"Hey, Gren. You need to make an appointment if you want to come into the Business office."

Gren bent down, picked up the chip and tossed it back at the sheriff. Bigby ducked, only to have it land on Snow's desk. She looked up, annoyed.

"Okay, you two. Save it, please. Gren. Carla is currently on her lunch break and the minute she is complete, she has a very busy afternoon ahead of her. We have a lot of paperwork she needs to file."

"Easy, White. I'll be out of here in a few." Gren grinned at Carla. She blushed. "I just wanted to give her a lil' something to help brighten her day in a dump like this."

Bigby again tossed a chip. This time, Gren caught it and ate it.

"I'm off at five," said Carla. "If you want, we can hang out then."

Snow cleared her throat. Carla already knew what she was going to say.

"Be careful, Carla. You know how your father feels about this...."

John was not pleased with Carla's 'love' interest; Georgie was one thing, Gren was a whole different species. Yeaj, she thought to herself, he was. John made Bigby and Snow keep a look out; Gren could only talk to Carla if it had to do with paperwork. One quick phone call and her father would be down here.

"I will be fine, Snow. See you later?"

Gren gave her a wink, kissed her quickly on the lips and he was soon walking out of the door. Carla heard Snow sigh deeply but ignored it. For now, her main focus was getting through the rest of the day. Five o' clock couldn't get her fast enough.

JonesJ

Oh I'm enjoying this. Nice to see she took over Lyla's old job. They seem to really trust the Smiths. I know this maybe too early but since John does not like Gren, will his reaction be the same as it was with Georige? Sry again if that is asking too much! I love how you made bigby and gren so playful towards eachother. And yet, another exciting chapter. can't wait to read more, pudding. :)BTW do you have a deviantart account?

pudding_pie

Thanks. Hopefully this will take off like the first installment did. :) Their struggles will be much more dramatic; Gren is going to make a difficult choice later on in the story. That is all I can say. :) And no, I do not have a deviantart account. Hey! I love the icon. Coincidence?

JonesJ

Can't wait to read on, my friend. You have won me over with the Smith clan. Your twist on the existing TWAU characters are fun as well. Can't wait to see how you handle such a titan like Grendel. Sry if the icon bothers you but I just love Lyla!!!!!

DragonButter

Edited my chapter above. I've made a few errors when it came to the dialogue, because Snow ordered a ham and cheese omelet back in chapter 4, not the Dragon's Tongue bagel sandwich special. :P And the sleeping pills were put in their drinks, not the food. Anyways, hope you guys still enjoy it nevertheless!

pudding_pie

Nah dude. Go for it. Hopefully I will add on to the story. Glad you and everyone else so far is enjoying it. :)

Hbh128

Tod's story begins!

Okay, so I've been working on my character's "story" from early life to adulthood, but only the important bits where shit happens. Now this isn't necessarily a "story" or "story arc" as much as it is a character arc, the crowning/shaping moments of Tod's life up to the present moment of the story taking place, which is the segment of his life below first presented to this lovely forum. I may even start adding what I have to my deviantart profile, who knows.

What this first "chapter" is: I needed a beginning that could be a good prompt for a flashback, or just as easily a continuation from where it left off. I will sneak in the exact year at some point, but you should get a gist of where it's at in this first "chapter".

I have to warn you, one of these "parts"(of which I mean not of the "chapter" below, but of the entirety of Tod's life I've written into existence) will have mild sexual content, as in no explicit sexual activity robbed of the reader's ability to imagine it. So what happens in Imaginationland stays in Imaginationland. Believe me when I say it's not for its own sake. If I need to put it in a spoiler or something, let me know, but if not, I will make sure that when I post it, you will know that it's there before you read on.

Changes to powers(which I will edit into my earlier post): most of his Fable power and powers are not accessible in Mundy form, and while some of his powers inherent to the species of his Fable blood are available in Mundy form, they are not as powerful to the extent that they are in his Fable form. The deal with that is that he's not a Fable capable of shapeshifting, but a part Fable Mundy, and there is a difference. I hope that makes sense. For example: while he can smell far better than a normal human, he is still a human, so his olfactory range is limited to a little further than that of a human's. Anyway.

Everyone, I present to you...

Tod: The Resident Werewolf
Part 1: New Arrival

I stood before the stairs to the bar below me. A sign, level with my feet, displayed the title in a serif font in front of a stone bridge with three goats on it. Down the steps I went, noticing a "closed" sign hanging from a nail on the door. I knew better, or at least I thought someone who told me did. As I pushed it open, the sound of blues beyond became louder and clearer.

When I entered, my vision was flooded with the tan and brown of a simple wallpaper design. The jazz turned out to be coming from a jukebox; set to loop, but it seemed like there were too few patrons inside for anyone to care. I passed a stool and tacked-up flyers immediately to my left--one of the flyers featured a cat someone must have been desperate to find, as I'd seen it posted all over town--and a coat rack to my right, and moved past a couple patrons playing pool at the table directly behind the bar. Aside from the two of them there were only two other patrons, one reclining in the only chair occupied to the right of the pool table, and another sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. I took a seat at the bar, feeling more than one pair of eyes following me as I did. A ceiling fan directed air downward onto my neck and back, though it was too warm in here to make enough of a difference.

"Learn to fucking read, kid. Get out." A horse-faced platinum-blonde woman with an unusual purple tattoo remained where she was on the far end of the other side of the bar as she addressed me.

"I heard this was the place to go for a drink," I said. "I know it's a little late, but--"

Her stare only got sharper as I wagged my tongue. "I don't care who your friend is. And I don't know you from Adam. Bar's closed."

"Sorry kid," one of the patrons called from across the way. "She's not someone you can 'talk' your way past. You get me?"

I swiveled on the bar stool to meet the gaze of the person who called out, focusing on the pool game, a blonde man of a cross-country physique wearing jeans and a white T with a red star on the front, with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He looked up, winked, and pulled off a ricochet knocking down two stripes. Taking the hint he dropped, I left my seat and walked out. Going up the stairwell, my gaze panned the sky for the moon: half, waning. I backed up slowly towards the stairwell, hoping to be able to catch the light from the bottom. No dice. Only one other way--leap up, and leap down. I could jump higher than most people, but the buildings on this side of the street were taller than what I was used to. Fortunately, the spacing between the ledges and railings was narrow enough for me to climb up quicker than other people.

I savored the resistance of the lukewarm temperature turned cooler against my aerobic feat. When I reached the top, I greeted the sight of the moon with glee. It was there when I needed it that night, and if I'd interpreted the hint I received correctly, I was going to shift until the skin of my transformation tightened. Fur: check; claws: check; jagged teeth: check; seven-foot-tall, beefy build: check; monstrous visage with orange, reflective eyes: check. I crept up towards the edge of the building, peeking at cars and passersby. Timing a jump between sidewalk strollers was easy, the first time during which I dropped my shoes. Minutes passed before I decided there were few enough cars going by, and my patience couldn't take any more punishment. I posed, stepped over the edge, and dropped.

Panicking from the brief seconds of weightlessness, I reached out with my claws toward the ledge above the sign of the Trip Trap. My claws scratched brick and my fingers scraped against stone as my attempt to avoid breaking any bones only served to break my fall. Losing plenty of momentum but barely any time, I fell a short distance from the ledge and onto my back, getting the wind knocked out of me, and a bruise beginning to swell on the back of my head from the impact with the stairs. It wouldn't take long for that to pass. I hurried inside the bar as soon as possible, shutting the door behind me. For as casually as I strolled in up to the pool table, shoes in hand, to my chagrin I had thrown the place into a state of chaos.

"What the...jesus, Bigby!" the same blonde man shouted. When everyone turned their heads at the man's sudden outburst, they all fixated on me. While all of their faces adopted a look of shock, a few molded to more combative glares.

"Bigby!?" A weak neon light flashed, and at its source was the sudden changing of the man at the bar into something larger and heavier. Vaguely human-shaped, the potbellied white monstrosity had pointed teeth jutting from a mouth practically as wide as his jawline, nostril slits lacking a nose, and white opaque eyes. "Who do you think you are, barging in like this!" it shouted.

"Knock him out, Gren!" the blonde man's contender urged on.

"Gren" shoved the pool table aside and charged right at me. I dodged to the left in time, barely squirreling by as I pulled past its hulking frame for a boost. The sheer effort needed threw me off balance I managed to catch myself at the counter, but as I turned around, the monster was aleady upon me. It grabbed me, slammed my head on the bar, and tossed me against the pool table.

"Hey, stop! Wait a minute!" I shouted with my hands up.

"No!" The monster grabbed me by the neck and shouted, "You've had this a long time-"

No more. They had mistaken me for someone else, and I was getting nowhere pleading on behalf of my aching head. I shifted back, much to the hulking patron's dismay, as he was now nearly throttling a human barely more than half his full upright height. Unceremoniously dropping me to the ground, it changed back to the patron he was before: slicked back mullet, scarred nose, pierced ear, goatee, and brown jacket, except the pupil of his right eye was barely visible, the rest of it white.

He squinted a little, scrutinizing my now-hairy form. "You fuckin' idiot," he muttered, returning to his seat. "Didn't have to show off."

"Jesus, kid, I can barely even recognize you under that hairy face, even with that Beatles' haircut," the blonde guy chided with a sigh of relief. "You really freaked us out there, waltzing in here like that! You should have just changed in front of us. Really, you didn't have to go get dressed. Talk about harboring insecurities."

"Wait, he wasn't glamoured," the shoulder-length brunette patron in the chair spoke up, her voice dulcet for a tenor, in comparison to the woman's from behind the counter. "Are you...related to Bigby? You look a little on the skinny side..."

"I don't even know who that is," I answered, cradling the bump on my head with one hand. "And I can't just shift whenever, Blondie, I need moonlight to do it. Look, that person I told you about? I was just listening in on some patient going on about his liver poisoning, mentioned a bar called the Trip Trap."

"And you figured 'oh, must be some special place were all the smart people go to get discount drinks'? Well you're only one-third right about that, kid," the ghoul-eye at the bar scoffed.

"Three-sixths, more like," Blondie corrected," er...half?? Anyway, give Holly some credit, Gren! Come on Hairy Hardluck, why don't we sit down, have a couple drinks and get better acquainted?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," I said, fetching my shoes.

"Lily, you can play for me if you want, I'm stripes."

"I'm not sure," the patron in the chair replied. "I've played, but I don't know the rules."

"That's fine, I can teach you," Blondie's bearded contender offered.

As he got to teaching, Blondie called out to the woman behind the bar, "Hey Holly, pour us a couple Bogie shots, wouldja?"

Holly wordlessly poured the shots from a big green bottle as I approached and sat next to my new friend. "Four bucks apiece. Cash up front and cash only, kid," she informed me while Jack fished out his own money.

"First one's on me," he said, so I knocked one back. "If it's food you want, sorry, Holly doesn't serve entrails here. Or food. So, what's your name?"

"Tod, Allaway," I answered. "Haven't had a drink at a proper bar since before the move to New York. Up until recently, I've been buying at stores."

"Well I'm Jack, pleasure to meet you." Jack offered his hand, which I shook.

"...Jack who?" I asked.

"Well, y'know, Jack Horner!" he beamed before throwing back his shot. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. You might know me from such stories as Jack be Nimble, or the Beanstalk caper, or--"

"He doesn't wanna hear your shitty stories, Jack," Gren interrupted.

"...The pie story," he finished.

"He means the caper he pulled on Christmas Day," Holly chimed.

"Wait, you what??" I gasped.

"Well, uhm, I mean when you take into consideration who I took from..." he reasoned, taking on elevated patterns in his tone.

"Christmas. Day." I repeated. "That's a dick move, man. And now I gotta ask, did you also jump over a candlestick? What was that all about??"

"Well, I did slay a giant..."

"Allegedly," the bearded man piped up.

"In a cloud kingdom," Jack finished, sounding like he was nearly fed-up.

"Well I heard that one, but I thought that since you're real, your stories outta be true too," I confessed. "Well, all of them, if it was you who did all those things 'Jack' did."

"Wait a second," Lily jumped in, "are you saying...you've only heard of us in our stories?"

Then the bearded man added, "But, then that would mean..."

A hushed silence fell over the bar, the only noise coming from the fan, still whirring about overhead.

To be continued...

pudding_pie

Chapter 2 Carla Smith

"One foot in the door..."

NOTE: Here are so random drawings of Carla, Gren and god knows what else. Think Snow and Bigby might be in there...lol
imgur.com/dsHPaJR

Enjoy!

Time was not on Carla's side today. The clock was ticking at a snail's pace; it seemed like it was 3:30 for the past two hours now. She had all the current paperwork completed and put away; Snow was very particular in how things were organized, so Carla found the time to alphabetize the papers. With everything nice and neat and nothing else for her to do, Carla found herself bored and looking around the office. She was not allowed anywhere near the back; that was strictly for Bufkin and Fables only. Carla thought that was harsh but understood; a mere mundy couldn't comprehend what the Fables had in the back. Not even her father was allowed while he worked here. The back of the office was looking pretty tempting by now.

She looked around; Bigby and Snow were currently gone, while Bufkin searched a book for something Snow needed. She took this opportunity to head to the back. A quick peak wouldn't hurt. Carla wondered on and soon found herself in a jungle filled area with the knowledge of every possible Fable. Her knowledge of the Fables and their stories were nowhere near the capacity she had; Carla wanted to learn more about the community she was living in but Snow recommended she take things slow for now. Mundies were not even allowed to be in the office. Carla just got lucky due to not only her father but her ability to control what came out of her mouth. Their secrets were always safe with Carla and Snow valued that.

She picked up a book and opened it; the very first chapter read 'Beowulf." Carla heard tales of this man when she was in high school but when you first hear it a different way, then another from Fables, she understood why the community found it irritating. They didn't get anywhere NEAR the truth of the story. Carla recalled Gren was a huge part in this story; she also remembered how much he frightened her while she read the book. He was a towering giant that lived in the Mere, only to terrorize the Mead halls and eat the sleeping warriors there. When she saw him, however, that night in his form, she didn't feel frightened or worried; there was something in his eyes that allowed her to trust him. She scanned the entry about Grendel.

'Grendel's fate is lead up to the arrival of Beowulf. Grendel is searching for the meaning of life and his identity. He seeks to find the company of others; he becomes friends with a dragon and Hrothgar. He passes many seasons seeking comfort and the ability to search the lands. On day, he passes through a passageway that leads to unfamiliar territory. At first, his encounters to the outside world are harmless; he feels enjoyment and feels there is so much to lear. After his encounter with not only the dragon but the humans, the monster feels trapped and haunted by the beauty of the human mind. Grendel's frustration leads him to the growing loneliness and anger he has for this world. He is doomed from there.'

Doomed, Carla thought. What could that possibly be? She knew he was defeated by Beowulf in the story but what more could the story have? Her thoughts were interrupted when Bufkin grabbed the book and placed it back in the original location. Carla was annoyed.

"Bufkin! Really! I was reading that!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Smith but you know the rules-you can't be back here at all. Bigby and Miss White would be furious if they knew you were back here."

"I don't understand why; I HAVE to know about the Fables sometime. Don't see why they feel the need to hide all this. I mean, hell, half my family are wolves, my sister has children with a Fable; I SEE you three everyday-"

"Yes, granted but there is so much you can't know about the Fables. It's for your own protection, Carla..."

Carla rolled her eyes. Protection from what? Not like anyone WOULD believe her, even if she tried. The mundies would put her away for talking such nonsense. Nevertheless, she sighed and made her way back to the front. She was close this time but knew this wouldn't happen anytime soon; Bufkin would now keep a sharp eye out on her.

Finally, 5 o' clock arrived; Carla threw what she could in the drawer, picked up her coat and nearly ran out the door. She almost had a head on collision with Bigby but thankfully the giant man noticed her, turned and avoided her all together. He chuckled as he watched Carla make a hop, skip and jump out into the streets. As she was putting on her coat, a pair of hands covered her eyes. From the texture of the hands and strong smell of cologne, she had a pretty good idea on who it was.

"Gren?"

He smiled and released his hold on Carla.

"That nose. Can't escape that even if I tried."

Carla chuckled; it was true. She watched as Gren fished into his pocket, pull out his wallet and start counting the money inside. When he finished, he looked up at Carla.

"Well, I bet after dealing with the Three Stooges, you must be starving. Wanna grab a bite to eat? There is this great place with the biggest, cheesiest burgers in all of New York and Fabletown. They put ANYTHING you want on those things!"

Carla was a tad famished; a burger did sound pretty appetizing at the moment. She agreed to his invitation. Gren held out his arm and as Carla tucked herself beneath it, the two ventured onward. After today, she needed a drink and was hoping Gren wanted to do the same.

EMMYPESS

Aw, I just read this and I have to say, I'm speachless! Thank you for thinking that, Mark.

JonesJ

Can't wait to see where this is going. So are Gren and Carla dating? Sry if you did mention this already. Will Gren also have a back story? You mentioned he was going to do something he won't like. Great job like always!