(( Author note: This lore is not a mandatory read in any way, shape, or form to be able to make a mawmaw. It will just help you understand the species as a whole much better, as it is very lore and story oriented. The Lore is written as a conversation between Coffee and Cake, the two Mawmaw that you see in the banner on the front page, and also two important NPCs to the Mawmaw verse. ))
Mawmaw Lore: The Legend Of The Great Fall
A light drizzle had started outside of the tower, causing owner to look up from his documents with a small hint of surprise. There had been no sign of rain hours before, but the weather was fickle, and he knew all too well how other energies played into the course of nature. Still, the rain was welcomed. It gave a sort of relaxing, homey feel to the stuffy quarters that he had holed himself into. Bookshelves lined the walls, neatly organized in terms of subject, author, and title. Many objects in the room seemed antique, from the rugs sprawled across wooden floors to the portraits hanging neatly on aged walls, the wallpaper peeling just slightly on many of the edges. The higher one looked the more cobwebs became apparent, as though someone had not bothered to clean up that far in many years. There were a few couches and chairs here and there, mainly centered by the fireplace that set the room alight with a soft glow, but it was clear that they were not for guests. Books and papers piled up on each, often times continuing to grow into stacks on the floor around them. It was, more or less, a very pretty room in terms of the warm earthly hues, but it was not one neatly kept.
Despite all this, it did not keep the owner from staying out. He sat comfortably behind the main desk in the center of the room, a quill quickly sprawling across freshly plucked parchment as though it had a mind of its own. This was all the work of said mawmaw, of course, as lifting objects was a simple task to accomplish with natural attunement for the arcane that came with all of their kind. Work seemed to be going smoothly until the door opened abruptly, causing the quill to jerk and leave a not-so-neat line on the parchment.
“Coffee! You’re here!”
The mawmaw looked up, slightly disgruntled, and raised a paw to push up the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. “Of course I’m here… I have a lot of research to do…”
It was none other than Cake, the charming mawmaw from down the road who sold a large assortments of baked goods and pastries. His vibrant, pink mane was a contrast to all else in the room, attracting all of Coffee’s attention. He strode over to the desk with a clear confidence in his steps, pausing to look at one of the many filled chairs around the desk and slowly pushing the contents over with a paw. Coffee opened his mouth to protest, but a sweet smile from the other slowly made him close it. Once Cake was comfortable he bat his lashes, looking down at the papers on the desk.
“You always have lots of work to do… What’s the story for today? Every day I come by you have a new story to tell me.”
“A story…?” Coffee cleared his throat slightly, the quill floating back to its stand and the papers rearranging themselves with the slightest flick of his claw. “I study more than stories… I study history… I try to seek truth from myths, and—“
“Of course, of course. You’re a scholar. That’s what you live for.” Cake rolled his eyes slightly, not seeming bothered about having butted in slightly. “But I’m curious about what you’re working on now. Something you haven’t told me yet… A story about ascended, perhaps? Or of the Reverent, our oh so fickle and reclusive ‘gods’… Or even something about wings…”
His voice trailed off into a mumble at the end, and Coffee could barely tell what he said even with his ears straining forward. Still, he sighed, a book floating over from one of the shelves and opening on the desk before him with a soft thump.
“You’re always interested in those stories… But I guess I could tell you the tale of how our kind lost our wings… Or at least, this is what I’ve been able to piece together. There are still a lot of details missing, but it’s the gist, at least…”
Cake’s eyes seemed to light up, a grin growing on his muzzle and his paws fidgeting excitedly. He said nothing, but Coffee could tell this was clearly the kind of story he wanted to hear that evening.
“Long ago… At least a thousand or so years ago, from what I’ve been able to calculate, with some room for error still… All of our kind had wings. They were not exactly savage beasts, though other creatures may have viewed us as such. They were just more… primal. Feral. They did not live in houses as we do today, or villages. They lived up in the sky, in large landforms raised by their sheer power. They were, as some might have said, ‘dragons’. Dragons in their purest, most powerful form. With strong, powerful wings to keep them airborne, they considered themselves special. The higher they were the closer they were to their gods, our gods, The Reverent. Clearly these wings were a blessing given to them for such a reason, as why else would other creatures lack such abilities?
And, from what I can tell, they looked different from us. They had long limbs and claws, rows of teeth and less of manes… They were leaner, at least some, as if to help perfect their Arial abilities. They did not walk often, so their hands and feet were finer. It is… rather hard to explain, and I don’t have much solid evidence in terms of pictures, besides some old paintings…”
Cake’s expression had fallen slightly. There he went, getting derailed again. “That’s ok, just keep telling the story, alright? I want to know what it was like when our kind lived in the sky… when we were all so noble, and not just those royals…”
A hint of jealousy tainted the word ‘royal’, but when he noticed Coffee’s confused expression he apologized quickly and smiled once more. Coffee himself was a royal, meaning he had one or two traits that set him apart from the general populace. Most commonly those traits were wings, as they were something lost with time, only passed down through ascended bloodlines and those of royals who stayed with their own kind—pure bloods. Coffee knew very well his wings were envied by many, so he didn’t take Cake’s jealousy personally in the slightest. If anything, he almost wished he could just give Cake his wings somehow. They had never meant much to him, and for the time being they were too small to fly with, anyways. Wings were sacred things, and they took a long time to fully develop.
With a quick clearing of this throat Coffee started again, having remembered where he stopped.
“Oh yes… So. Ancient mawmaw were a species to the skies… They believed wings brought them closer to the gods. This meant that all mawmaw at the time were Royals, though Ascended ones did exist. Ascended are thought to be the offspring of The Reverent themselves, through procreation or actual creation. Whether that’s true or not is unknown, but what is known is that they surpass royals in magic ability by a staggering amount… many have assigned jobs to keep the world in balance, and how many ascended there are is unknown… They do not often mingle with the community at large, though it is not unheard of for mawmaw to meet one of them in person. They are not gods themselves, but some consider them deities of sorts.
I say this simply to clear the error of belief that ascended lived amongst our ancient kind. They still lived apart, as they do today, and are not common. So! As you might expect, our ancestors were an envious and greedy race… They prided themselves on their power and prowess, with how they could command not only the skies but the elements as well. They did not interact with other species, hiding away in their hidden civilizations in the sky. But as time went on, as one would expect, things changed. Every species has a chance for mutation, or error, and unfortunately this took form in defective wings. Wings that were too small to fly. Deformations. Or, the most severe mutation was to be born with no wings at all…”
Cake’s expression fell slightly as Coffee spoke, almost as if this somehow reached him on a personal level. Coffee noticed, and looked sad, his heart reaching out to the other. He cared for his friend, and he hated how much grief this concept brought him. He said nothing about this, however, and continued.
“As you might have expected, those without wings were cast out. They did not belong. They were not strong or powerful or beautiful as mawmaw considered themselves, and they had no place in the sacred lands in the skies. Alone, and with no one else to turn to, the mawmaw down below stuck together, comforting one another through their pains and trials of rejection. They questioned why they were born that way. Why The Reverent saw it fitting for them to be different. To be ugly, weak, and most of all, to be unworthy. Without wings, they could not stay in the skies. They could not be close to their gods, and they did not understand what they had done to deserve such a cruel and unjust punishment.
This continued for many years. There was a division between mawmaw now, between those who lived in the air and those who lived on the ground. But that did not quell the bitter resentment that those cast down felt. They wanted revenge. They wanted those in the sky, those who thought they were better, those who spit in their faces and rejected them, to feel the pain they felt. But most of all, they just wanted to be accepted.
One of them rose up. I do not know if this is his actual name, but all traces I have found lead to the word Zakir… He was one of the fallen, the broken, who finally decided that he had had enough of the trials on the ground. He was going to get wings, and he was going to prove The Reverent themselves wrong. He was going to show them all what he was worth, that his place was in the skies with the others. So he left. He set out, trekking across vast climates and parts of the world, to find a place only spoken about in legend and myth. To find the shrine of Kasilvar , a long lost and dormant Reverent.
The Reverent are said to drift between this plane of existence and their own. Of course, no one knows this with utmost certainty, but many times I doubt that they are actually gods at all. They are extremely powerful dragons, beasts that should not be awoken. I do not think they are like ascended, in that they do not interact with us. They live alone, isolated, and they do not converse at all. They are ancient beings, and while I do not mean this to sound like they are more primal, they are not… As enlightened as we are today. They exist, for without them life would not, but that is their purpose. To see a Reverent would either be something awe inspiring, or a sign of terrible destruction…
Still, even with this knowledge, Zakir sought Kasilvar out. And, according to myth and legend, he found them. Their shrine was tucked deep into the far reaches of the earth, and what he discovered there would change the fate of our species forever…
It is unknown what exactly was in that shrine. A fountain, a cloak, a book to write wishes… but whatever it was, it gave Zakir the very thing he wanted. He reemerged from the shrine with two beautiful, gorgeous wings of his own, more powerful than those of any royal in the skies. It was everything he had ever wanted, and they bore him the acceptance and fame he so desired. Even the royals were envious of his wings, wanting to know how he got them, and believing that he was not actually one cast below, but an Ascended. But with this attention he forgot of those below, the very ones who had nurtured and tended to him through his strife and pain… They looked up and they saw him with his bright and shining wings, and they knew they had been forgotten.”
Coffee paused, looking down towards the book below with a distant sadness in his eyes. The pages turned slightly, and once they stopped he cleared his throat yet again, skimming the pages over before continuing.
“ There are a lot of gaps in the story here, but it is said that Zakir enjoyed his wings for many years. And, for that time, his life seemed perfect. But all that is perfect is never so, and it was only a matter of time until the gods themselves had realized a mortal had stolen from them. So Kasilvar rose up, and the world heaved in response. The sky fell, the oceans burned, and the living knew the power of a Reverent’s wrath. It was angered. It could not believe that a mortal dare take from it, that someone would try to play against the hands of fate. It looked upon the world and saw all error. It saw the greed and lust in the heart of mawmaws in the sky, and it saw the anguish and jealousy from those on the ground. And it is said, that in that moment, Kasilvar decided that none were worthy to be in the sky. It lashed out, striking all the mawmaw down. One by one they fell, their wings torn from their backs, and the Ascended looked on in horror. They say the world wept for days… that the Ascended mourned, and that a thick silence hung over the land for many, many years…
Now all mawmaw lived on the land as one. They were all the same—cast down, rejected, and unworthy. What more could they do but push on? Their lives were not meant to end, but they were forced to adapt. So they spread around the world, and their bodies changed. Their feet grew bigger, with tougher paw pads. Manes grew around their necks, to keep them from falling prey to other creatures. They lost their long claws and longer limbs, as there was no reason for them to be slimmer. They were compact, hardy creatures, still resilient as they had once been in the skies, but now adapted to the lands below. And that was where they stayed.
Now, we all know there are mawmaw with wings still. Not every royal was struck down, and the ascended were left alone. So wings continued to thrive, but in very small numbers… This is why they are very cherished by some today, and are seen as a sign of status…”
The scholar fell quiet for a moment, feeling guilty as he looked towards his own wings. It was not as if he had asked anyone for them, and yet… He was one of those few. “Many royals are still pompous, as though they have learned nothing. They refuse to breed with those outside of the ‘pure’ bloodlines, so that one day wings will be common and they can rise up once again. They believe that The Great Fall was a mistake, and that it was not them who should be condemned for Zakir’s crime. And oh, what of poor Zakir… He was hated, chased off by all. Mawmaw were angered with him for losing their wings, while others were angered at the fact he forgot about them in the midst of his own glory. While others found acceptance he was rejected, shunned, and hated. It is unknown if he is still alive today, but the power that coursed through his veins from his stolen blessing is said to torture him with a life unending, and a form so retched and disconfigured that he will never live amongst any.”
A silence fell in the room, and it was only then that Coffee remembered that it was actually raining. He finally looked towards Cake, shifting uncomfortably, but having told the tale he wanted to tell. It wasn’t the happiest story, of course, but it was all he had of where their kind might have descended.
“So this is how our kind came to be…? Fallen…?”
“Yes, but… Look at us now. We are happy here, on the ground. We have homes and villages and much reason to flourish and survive. We have forgotten the old hatred and jealousy that we used to house, and we live amongst one another in peace… Life is better this way, in my opinion, and I think that’s what The Reverent wanted…”
“I don’t like this story.” Cake leaned back, looking towards the fire on the other side of the room. “I didn’t expect it would be so… depressing… But tell you what. You’ve been in this room for hours, haven’t you?” Coffee looked guilty. “Let’s head over to my shop! I can cook you up something nice and we can enjoy an evening away from this rain.”
The scholar nodded, getting up from his chair. “That sounds delightful… And please, let me pay you this time…”
The sound of Cake’s laughter echoed through the room as they exited, walking side by side out of the tall, spiraling tower that stood on the far end of town. And, almost as if understanding the story was done, the rain slowed, leaving only the smell of fresh, renewed earth. It was a beautiful day, even with the showers, and slowly the bustle of town picked up to its original pace. Life must go on, and the rain was only a delay.
Despite all this, it did not keep the owner from staying out. He sat comfortably behind the main desk in the center of the room, a quill quickly sprawling across freshly plucked parchment as though it had a mind of its own. This was all the work of said mawmaw, of course, as lifting objects was a simple task to accomplish with natural attunement for the arcane that came with all of their kind. Work seemed to be going smoothly until the door opened abruptly, causing the quill to jerk and leave a not-so-neat line on the parchment.
“Coffee! You’re here!”
The mawmaw looked up, slightly disgruntled, and raised a paw to push up the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. “Of course I’m here… I have a lot of research to do…”
It was none other than Cake, the charming mawmaw from down the road who sold a large assortments of baked goods and pastries. His vibrant, pink mane was a contrast to all else in the room, attracting all of Coffee’s attention. He strode over to the desk with a clear confidence in his steps, pausing to look at one of the many filled chairs around the desk and slowly pushing the contents over with a paw. Coffee opened his mouth to protest, but a sweet smile from the other slowly made him close it. Once Cake was comfortable he bat his lashes, looking down at the papers on the desk.
“You always have lots of work to do… What’s the story for today? Every day I come by you have a new story to tell me.”
“A story…?” Coffee cleared his throat slightly, the quill floating back to its stand and the papers rearranging themselves with the slightest flick of his claw. “I study more than stories… I study history… I try to seek truth from myths, and—“
“Of course, of course. You’re a scholar. That’s what you live for.” Cake rolled his eyes slightly, not seeming bothered about having butted in slightly. “But I’m curious about what you’re working on now. Something you haven’t told me yet… A story about ascended, perhaps? Or of the Reverent, our oh so fickle and reclusive ‘gods’… Or even something about wings…”
His voice trailed off into a mumble at the end, and Coffee could barely tell what he said even with his ears straining forward. Still, he sighed, a book floating over from one of the shelves and opening on the desk before him with a soft thump.
“You’re always interested in those stories… But I guess I could tell you the tale of how our kind lost our wings… Or at least, this is what I’ve been able to piece together. There are still a lot of details missing, but it’s the gist, at least…”
Cake’s eyes seemed to light up, a grin growing on his muzzle and his paws fidgeting excitedly. He said nothing, but Coffee could tell this was clearly the kind of story he wanted to hear that evening.
“Long ago… At least a thousand or so years ago, from what I’ve been able to calculate, with some room for error still… All of our kind had wings. They were not exactly savage beasts, though other creatures may have viewed us as such. They were just more… primal. Feral. They did not live in houses as we do today, or villages. They lived up in the sky, in large landforms raised by their sheer power. They were, as some might have said, ‘dragons’. Dragons in their purest, most powerful form. With strong, powerful wings to keep them airborne, they considered themselves special. The higher they were the closer they were to their gods, our gods, The Reverent. Clearly these wings were a blessing given to them for such a reason, as why else would other creatures lack such abilities?
And, from what I can tell, they looked different from us. They had long limbs and claws, rows of teeth and less of manes… They were leaner, at least some, as if to help perfect their Arial abilities. They did not walk often, so their hands and feet were finer. It is… rather hard to explain, and I don’t have much solid evidence in terms of pictures, besides some old paintings…”
Cake’s expression had fallen slightly. There he went, getting derailed again. “That’s ok, just keep telling the story, alright? I want to know what it was like when our kind lived in the sky… when we were all so noble, and not just those royals…”
A hint of jealousy tainted the word ‘royal’, but when he noticed Coffee’s confused expression he apologized quickly and smiled once more. Coffee himself was a royal, meaning he had one or two traits that set him apart from the general populace. Most commonly those traits were wings, as they were something lost with time, only passed down through ascended bloodlines and those of royals who stayed with their own kind—pure bloods. Coffee knew very well his wings were envied by many, so he didn’t take Cake’s jealousy personally in the slightest. If anything, he almost wished he could just give Cake his wings somehow. They had never meant much to him, and for the time being they were too small to fly with, anyways. Wings were sacred things, and they took a long time to fully develop.
With a quick clearing of this throat Coffee started again, having remembered where he stopped.
“Oh yes… So. Ancient mawmaw were a species to the skies… They believed wings brought them closer to the gods. This meant that all mawmaw at the time were Royals, though Ascended ones did exist. Ascended are thought to be the offspring of The Reverent themselves, through procreation or actual creation. Whether that’s true or not is unknown, but what is known is that they surpass royals in magic ability by a staggering amount… many have assigned jobs to keep the world in balance, and how many ascended there are is unknown… They do not often mingle with the community at large, though it is not unheard of for mawmaw to meet one of them in person. They are not gods themselves, but some consider them deities of sorts.
I say this simply to clear the error of belief that ascended lived amongst our ancient kind. They still lived apart, as they do today, and are not common. So! As you might expect, our ancestors were an envious and greedy race… They prided themselves on their power and prowess, with how they could command not only the skies but the elements as well. They did not interact with other species, hiding away in their hidden civilizations in the sky. But as time went on, as one would expect, things changed. Every species has a chance for mutation, or error, and unfortunately this took form in defective wings. Wings that were too small to fly. Deformations. Or, the most severe mutation was to be born with no wings at all…”
Cake’s expression fell slightly as Coffee spoke, almost as if this somehow reached him on a personal level. Coffee noticed, and looked sad, his heart reaching out to the other. He cared for his friend, and he hated how much grief this concept brought him. He said nothing about this, however, and continued.
“As you might have expected, those without wings were cast out. They did not belong. They were not strong or powerful or beautiful as mawmaw considered themselves, and they had no place in the sacred lands in the skies. Alone, and with no one else to turn to, the mawmaw down below stuck together, comforting one another through their pains and trials of rejection. They questioned why they were born that way. Why The Reverent saw it fitting for them to be different. To be ugly, weak, and most of all, to be unworthy. Without wings, they could not stay in the skies. They could not be close to their gods, and they did not understand what they had done to deserve such a cruel and unjust punishment.
This continued for many years. There was a division between mawmaw now, between those who lived in the air and those who lived on the ground. But that did not quell the bitter resentment that those cast down felt. They wanted revenge. They wanted those in the sky, those who thought they were better, those who spit in their faces and rejected them, to feel the pain they felt. But most of all, they just wanted to be accepted.
One of them rose up. I do not know if this is his actual name, but all traces I have found lead to the word Zakir… He was one of the fallen, the broken, who finally decided that he had had enough of the trials on the ground. He was going to get wings, and he was going to prove The Reverent themselves wrong. He was going to show them all what he was worth, that his place was in the skies with the others. So he left. He set out, trekking across vast climates and parts of the world, to find a place only spoken about in legend and myth. To find the shrine of Kasilvar , a long lost and dormant Reverent.
The Reverent are said to drift between this plane of existence and their own. Of course, no one knows this with utmost certainty, but many times I doubt that they are actually gods at all. They are extremely powerful dragons, beasts that should not be awoken. I do not think they are like ascended, in that they do not interact with us. They live alone, isolated, and they do not converse at all. They are ancient beings, and while I do not mean this to sound like they are more primal, they are not… As enlightened as we are today. They exist, for without them life would not, but that is their purpose. To see a Reverent would either be something awe inspiring, or a sign of terrible destruction…
Still, even with this knowledge, Zakir sought Kasilvar out. And, according to myth and legend, he found them. Their shrine was tucked deep into the far reaches of the earth, and what he discovered there would change the fate of our species forever…
It is unknown what exactly was in that shrine. A fountain, a cloak, a book to write wishes… but whatever it was, it gave Zakir the very thing he wanted. He reemerged from the shrine with two beautiful, gorgeous wings of his own, more powerful than those of any royal in the skies. It was everything he had ever wanted, and they bore him the acceptance and fame he so desired. Even the royals were envious of his wings, wanting to know how he got them, and believing that he was not actually one cast below, but an Ascended. But with this attention he forgot of those below, the very ones who had nurtured and tended to him through his strife and pain… They looked up and they saw him with his bright and shining wings, and they knew they had been forgotten.”
Coffee paused, looking down towards the book below with a distant sadness in his eyes. The pages turned slightly, and once they stopped he cleared his throat yet again, skimming the pages over before continuing.
“ There are a lot of gaps in the story here, but it is said that Zakir enjoyed his wings for many years. And, for that time, his life seemed perfect. But all that is perfect is never so, and it was only a matter of time until the gods themselves had realized a mortal had stolen from them. So Kasilvar rose up, and the world heaved in response. The sky fell, the oceans burned, and the living knew the power of a Reverent’s wrath. It was angered. It could not believe that a mortal dare take from it, that someone would try to play against the hands of fate. It looked upon the world and saw all error. It saw the greed and lust in the heart of mawmaws in the sky, and it saw the anguish and jealousy from those on the ground. And it is said, that in that moment, Kasilvar decided that none were worthy to be in the sky. It lashed out, striking all the mawmaw down. One by one they fell, their wings torn from their backs, and the Ascended looked on in horror. They say the world wept for days… that the Ascended mourned, and that a thick silence hung over the land for many, many years…
Now all mawmaw lived on the land as one. They were all the same—cast down, rejected, and unworthy. What more could they do but push on? Their lives were not meant to end, but they were forced to adapt. So they spread around the world, and their bodies changed. Their feet grew bigger, with tougher paw pads. Manes grew around their necks, to keep them from falling prey to other creatures. They lost their long claws and longer limbs, as there was no reason for them to be slimmer. They were compact, hardy creatures, still resilient as they had once been in the skies, but now adapted to the lands below. And that was where they stayed.
Now, we all know there are mawmaw with wings still. Not every royal was struck down, and the ascended were left alone. So wings continued to thrive, but in very small numbers… This is why they are very cherished by some today, and are seen as a sign of status…”
The scholar fell quiet for a moment, feeling guilty as he looked towards his own wings. It was not as if he had asked anyone for them, and yet… He was one of those few. “Many royals are still pompous, as though they have learned nothing. They refuse to breed with those outside of the ‘pure’ bloodlines, so that one day wings will be common and they can rise up once again. They believe that The Great Fall was a mistake, and that it was not them who should be condemned for Zakir’s crime. And oh, what of poor Zakir… He was hated, chased off by all. Mawmaw were angered with him for losing their wings, while others were angered at the fact he forgot about them in the midst of his own glory. While others found acceptance he was rejected, shunned, and hated. It is unknown if he is still alive today, but the power that coursed through his veins from his stolen blessing is said to torture him with a life unending, and a form so retched and disconfigured that he will never live amongst any.”
A silence fell in the room, and it was only then that Coffee remembered that it was actually raining. He finally looked towards Cake, shifting uncomfortably, but having told the tale he wanted to tell. It wasn’t the happiest story, of course, but it was all he had of where their kind might have descended.
“So this is how our kind came to be…? Fallen…?”
“Yes, but… Look at us now. We are happy here, on the ground. We have homes and villages and much reason to flourish and survive. We have forgotten the old hatred and jealousy that we used to house, and we live amongst one another in peace… Life is better this way, in my opinion, and I think that’s what The Reverent wanted…”
“I don’t like this story.” Cake leaned back, looking towards the fire on the other side of the room. “I didn’t expect it would be so… depressing… But tell you what. You’ve been in this room for hours, haven’t you?” Coffee looked guilty. “Let’s head over to my shop! I can cook you up something nice and we can enjoy an evening away from this rain.”
The scholar nodded, getting up from his chair. “That sounds delightful… And please, let me pay you this time…”
The sound of Cake’s laughter echoed through the room as they exited, walking side by side out of the tall, spiraling tower that stood on the far end of town. And, almost as if understanding the story was done, the rain slowed, leaving only the smell of fresh, renewed earth. It was a beautiful day, even with the showers, and slowly the bustle of town picked up to its original pace. Life must go on, and the rain was only a delay.