[Prompt] Reflecting Pool

Lore World's End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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I’ve done a lot of generalized prompts, pose a question, you respond. Here is more a story scenario prompt:

You find yourself deep in the jungles of Stranglethorn. Alone or with a band, you wander off the trail. There is a beautifully verdant tree atop a rock. The tree branches curve as if unable to bear the weight of their vast and robust leaves. The leaves reach the earth, suspended by long vines that attach to the tree.

Curious, you approach the tree. A breeze picks up and you see one of the sheets of leaves shake. Oddly enough, it shakes as if it goes into the large rock the tree is on. You decide to investigate further and find the leaves conceal a passageway. If you were with a band, they’ve since started to move on, deeper into the jungle. Entranced by the curiosity of the tunnel, you forget the band and step within. You use a torch or magelight to light your way, or nothing at all.

After descending through the tunnel about 100 feet, you find yourself with a spacious room. Filling the center of the room is a large, crystal clear pool of water, glowing a faint blue. You peer into the water and your reflection peers back. Did it just smile? Did you smile? You feel a draw to touch the water, and lose your balance; or were you pulled in? You gasp and flop back onto land, panting from the sudden exposure to the cold water. You shiver and look at the pool again. A figure is climbing out on the opposite side. They smile and wave at you.

You stare back, shocked as a perfect replica of you moves to leave the cavern.

This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules. I ask that posts be limited to two or three, as much longer is more like a short tale probably befitting its own thread.

Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfectly match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.

I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in here as well. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.

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((I hate reading present tense, though nothing is wrong with the style. I don’t know why. So today I am challenging myself to write my prompt in it. It is a struggle.))

Vynianyx walks through the jungles of Stranglethorn, her ears keen to the various noises of the animals. Her mind wanders to the prospects of finding ancient tombs and treasures. She pauses as the noise of the wildlife falters. A quick survey of her area reveals to her a large weeping tree atop a giant rock. Vynianyx approaches the tree with slow and deliberate movement. The tree has leaves that hang heavy from its branches, affixed to vines. The leaves could form a cloak, should one choose. Vynianyx finds the tree unnerving, unnatural.

As the druidess approaches the tree, a breeze kicks up. The leaves of the tree float in the breeze, almost waving at Vynianyx. She notices the motion of the leaves, and cocks her head to the side. It seems to her that the leaves vanish into the stone, only for a moment. She approaches, her curiosity apparent. As she gets close to the stone, she sees a passageway. That is why the leaves appear to merge into the stone.

Vynianyx glances around and ponders if she should progress into the stone. Finally, her treasure lusting heart pushes her within the passage. She finds the tunnel dark with a thick coating of dust on the ground. Only the prints of small animals dotted the dust, no humanoid foot traffic. Vynianyx hesitates again. She shivers despite the warmth of the jungle. After a moment passes, Vynianyx lets out a long sigh. What was adventure without risks? With that in mind, Vynianyx travels down the tunnel path.

At the end of the tunnel, Vynianyx finds herself in a large room. In the room’s center is a crystal clear pool, with a faint blue glow. Vynianyx cautiously approaches the pool, her steps slow and deliberate. She peers into the water and her reflection peers back. She blinks a few times, her reflection does the same. Yet, her reflection appears to be smiling. Vynianyx becomes self conscious of her face. Was she smiling? Did she smile? Apprehension builds within her as she gazes on the waters. She reaches out with a hand and moves to press it into the water’s surface, to disrupt her reflection.

Vynianyx gasps as something grabs her hand and pulls her with enough force to send her into the water. She coughs and chokes on the water as it flows into her lungs. The druidess sputters as she hoists herself back onto the pool’s edge. She pants and gags as she tries to catch her breath. Still catching her breath, Vynianyx glances behind her at the other edge of the pool. She hears noises from that side of the room.

An arm reaches out of the pool and a body follows. Vynianyx finds herself only able to sit and watch the spectacle as it mistifies her. The figure was a complete copy of herself, antlers and all. As it looks over its body, the figure lets out a small giggle.

Vynianyx stands and takes a step towards it. “Who are you?”

The figure looks up at her and chuckles. “I am the desire to be in two places at once given form.”

“What?”

The clone walks towards Vynianyx, her arms out to show surrender. “I am a copy of you, to do as you wish. Surely you have desires you must relinquish because you cannot be everywhere at one time.”

Vynianyx feels a sense of animosity towards the clone and she takes a step back. “I manage myself fine.”

“Oh, do you?” The clone chuckles as she crosses her arms.

Vynianyx continues to step backwards until she feels a wall behind her. “Yes, I do.” she snarls at the woman.

That is when Vynianyx notices the water around her boots. She tries to step around it, out of it. Nothing works. The clone shakes her head. “You see, the waters crave more.”

The waters tug on Vynianyx’s legs. She braces herself against their pull and glares at the clone. “You wish to aide me yet your pool tries to pull me in.”

The shade resumes walking towards Vynianyx, a grin on her face. “Well yes. You see…” She trails off as she gets closer. Vynianyx arches her fingers to lash out. The clone continues, just out of Vynianyx’s reach. “You see right through me.” With a brisk kick, the shade tries to launch Vynianyx into the pool.

Vyn shifts her form into saber and digs her claws into the earth. Her back legs nearly fall off the ledge into the pool before she stops. Vynianyx roars and charges towards the shade. She breaks free of the waters and launches herself at the clone. The clone vanishes into a silvery pool of water and reappears behind Vynianyx. She digs her claw-like fingers into Vyn and tries to drag her towards the pool.

“To become you, I must eliminate you!” The shade shouts. “Know your place! Die!”

Vynianyx roars in response as her form contorts yet again. Now her body is that of a stag. With powerful legs, Vynianyx kicks out at the shade. The creature screeches as she falls backwards into the pool of water. Vynianyx shifts into her saber form again and utilizes her instincts to meld in with the shadows of the room. For several tense minutes, she stares at the pool. The waters ripple as a force appears to pound on their surface from underneath. Vyn steps towards the water’s edge once more, each step calculated and slow. As she peers at the water, she sees no reflection. The once crystal clear pool is now cloudy with a wispy blackness. Shaken up by the encounter, Vynianyx leaves the cavern and ventures off towards Booty Bay.

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Korlith eyed his mirror with a blank expression- the clone tilting it’s head as it regarded him with a look of confusion. “What? Most people’d be startled if a-”

“You are not a perfect clone of me.” “Saywha’.”

He blinked a few times in an Avian manner, standing up. “You have my appearance, but…also my heart. Something I am working hard through excrutiating social rehabilitation to regain.”

The false Nightborne faltered for a moment, frowning. He turned to regard him for a moment.

“Your mind was not one the pool wished to replicate.”

“Could it?” “With effort.”

He scratched his chin for a moment before looking up at the clone.

“…want to play some chess?” “What, do you carry a board and pieces are you?” “Yes.” “…uh. Then sure.”

An adventurer passed through the foliage to find two Nightborne, identical armor and faces, debating over chess movements- a pile of shot glasses significantly stacked to the right one’s side, who wasn’t faring as well.

The left looked up with a blank expression- gesturing for them to sit before looking at the inebriated copy.

“Your move.”

(Not intended to be an invitation to continue from here, but uh. Go ahead? In any case, a cool prompt, I’d say!)

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Coughing up water, Asana pulled herself out of the icy pool and rolled back on to the cavern floor. She took a moment to catch her breath, shivering slightly from the cold water drenching her. She couldn’t believe that just happened. Did she really just fall into there for no reason? It was almost like it drew her in hypnotically. The people at the caravan couldn’t know about this. If they asked she fell into a river while fighting several trolls…no a dozen actually. All heavily armed. Yes, that had a much nicer ring to it, she decided resolutely.

The caravan! Damn it, she needed to get back to them. Asana jumped to her feet and turned towards the entrance when something even more unusual made her pause. Someone was climbing out of the other side of the pool. A woman with short dark hair wearing identical clothing to hers. Unless she was mistaken…that was her!

“What in the…?” she asked, tilting her head befuddled.

The copy turned to face her with a mirrored expression of mild confusion. “Oh hello, you must be my original.”

Original? Well that probably wasn’t wrong. Asana ran through several questions in her mind about how and why this was happening, but then decided she just didn’t care. The pool was likely magic in some way, that was enough of an explanation. She still kept her distance out of caution. “Are you supposed to be me?”

The copy shook her head halfway between yes and no. “Somewhat. I’m a reflection of you I think. It’s what happens to those who enter this pool. I’m aware of what I am.”

“Do you have my memories too?” Asana asked curiously.

“I do, or most of them at least. There are gaps here and there,” said the copy.

“Are you evil? You aren’t trying to replace me or any nonsense like that?” she asked bluntly with her hands on her hips, still studying the copy to determine if it was an act or not. She didn’t detect any lies or malevolent intentions…yet.

The other Asana held up her hands. “No! Definitely no, I promise. I don’t feel any inclination to do anything actually, but my mind does work like yours. I’m probably feeling the same things as you right now. Besides I don’t think I’m permanent. The magic will probably fade eventually when the mana sustaining me is used up.”

“How long until then?” she asked.

The copy shrugged indecisively. Well, she seemed sincere. That was good enough. No longer braced for danger and letting her curiosity take over, Asana walked closer to inspect her. She felt up the clone’s body in various places, utterly disregarding personal boundaries. It was solid and warm to the touch. The other Asana laughed when certain ticklish spots were hit, but otherwise did nothing to stop her. Interesting, for all intents she was an exact identical clone and seemed no different from other living beings. No one would ever guess her origins were from a magical pool in the heart of a jungle.

“What do we do now?” asked the clone with an inquisitive smile.

A good question, and Asana had a few amusing ideas. It wasn’t often you got to spend time with an almost perfect replica of yourself. She grinned mischievously and rubbed her chin. “Well you’re definitely me, just as attractive too. Remember that caravan we’re supposed to be guarding? Let’s have some fun with them.”

The other’s eyes widened in realization at the implications of their situation then laughed. “Oh yes, lead the way!”

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Great stories! :smiley: I honestly didn’t think I would get much response with how specific the set up was lol

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((Apologies for bumping this, I thought I’d try something a bit different and void-themed! :slight_smile: ))

It’s not real.

Not real, not real, not real.

The thoughts seemed alive. A formless whisper, a strange and bodiless thing, that echoed around the cave walls.

“Come closer, sister,” the mirror hissed, its voice sibilant and inviting.

The apparition that had emerged from the pool - no, it was too real to be a mere apparition, the torchlight glinting off the beads of sweat dotting her brow, the subtle tilt to the eyes, skin hued peach one moment violet the next - a mirroring shape from the void, a simulacra of every She there was and would be, and it beckoned, she called, every truth could be hers, every world -

She grasped for tendrils of sanity.

“No.” The negation was soft, but it could be heard above the murmuring chorus.

The whispering ceased.

“No?” A thousand voices. In that awful, infinite voice she heard surprise… and insanity. There are planes of existence where I am one with void and I am insane.

Find an anchor. The words had been burned into her mind, under the tutelage of the magisters. “Ceria is my eldest sister.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “She was a blood knight. Thera is older than me.” I am me in this reality only. “She was a ranger. Thera fell, but Ceria lives. You are not my sister.” I am me in this reality alone.

“We are the same flesh, sister. I am you, you are me. Come closer.”

“Ceria is my eldest sister.” She repeated the mantra. “Thera is next. Thera fell, but Ceria lives. You are not- my- sister-“

“I’m leaving here, with or without you.”

She opened her eyes and the shape seemed to ooze forward, blurring and shifting as it drew inexorably closer. Its touch would bring her down, she knew, into the murky subconscious abyss. I will be the one trapped in the pool. She willed desperately for the strength to stop the void-thing from consuming her. Anar’alah belore, please, give me strength!

A soft, green mist emanated, a faint nimbus, glowed dimly in the air. What trickery is this?

The mist formed a shield before her. The presence did not have the sinister, oily, spectral sensation of the apparition. It felt familiar. It felt like…

“Ceria?”

“Ceria!” The simulacra cried out, almost immediately after her. In the many voices, she heard anger, but also happiness, grief, and love.

“Caellira, where are you?” Her eldest sister’s voice called out. Her voice sounded distant, as though it came from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

“I’m in Stranglethorn!”

“I’m close,” she replied, her voice growing faint, almost inaudible. “I’ll find you…“ the mist seeped away.

Her shapeshifting clone seemed to smile and weep at once. “Alone once more.”

“Stop.” She walked forward and laid a hand on her other’s wrist. The skin felt unpleasantly nebulous, almost liquid, insubstantial, and half-formed. It pushed against her, intangibly wriggling, attempting to seep into her. But her mind was firm. I will not slip today. Bless you, sister. Whatever wishful hallucination that mist was, the memory of her family centred her.

“This is not your world. It is mine. I won’t let you pass.”

An ugly snarl contorted the clone’s face. “Endala finel endal!” She spat. The pressure of the spiritous tendrils intensified.

“Return to your world. I cannot heal you, but by the grace of the sunwell, you can find your way. Shorel’aran, Caellira.”

The whispers ceased. The clone collapsed, a thing of crystal blue waters. No longer animated by the shadows of the void, the water puddled at her feet.

The light of the sun seemed particularly glaring, as she stumbled forth. She wanted to look back at the cave mouth, but she resolutely kept her eyes forward. One look, one thought to betray her, she feared, could invite the chaos in, and she would be lost.

She recalled the words of Magister Oriel. “The void is infinite, and cunning, and always hungers. We must be vigilant. But for the grace of Lady Alleria and Umbric’s fortitude, we haven’t fallen into shadow as our brethren did. Remember your anchors. There are moments when reality can seem thin.”

Not just moments. Places.

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A lead into this tale... If your curious, the wagon in the beginning is the same wagon mentioned at the end of this previous prompt inspired tale, tying these two together. The Orc mentioned is also that very same Orc from the end of Vesthi's tale. It's only been given a single edit pass, so if there are any glaring confusions or mistakes feel free to let me know, otherwise I hope you enjoy. edit: Doh! I forgot to post it on my Druid v.v

Amidst the remnants of a shattered wagon lay a rather young Orc foot soldier. His breaths came hard and heavy. Pain radiated throughout as he struggled to lean himself against a burlap sack of grain. He pressed his back against a stack of heavy wooden crates that had miraculously evaded that chaos that had befallen their caravan moments before. Blood-blurred vision now only revealed shadows, and all he could heart was the thumping of his own heart and the hollow gasping for air. He reached his left hand to his ribs and found a gaping wound. It didn’t hurt as badly as he’d thought it might. A wave of shiver quaked through his body producing with it a wave of nauseating pain. His mind reeled at the notion of his entire person being in pain. The Orc drew a deep wet breath and began coughing. A large lumbering form padded up to him. He couldn’t see it clearly but he knew what it was. The very beast that had broken their ranks and shattered their supply wagon. The massive creature stood over him. He felt a hot breath blow across his face as it sniffed deeply. The hulking beast withdrew and slowly lumbered away. As the Orc foot soldier’s vision feel dark a single terrified thought turned over and over in his mind. They must be warned, she is coming… They must be warned…

The huge lumbering bear turned down a small side path clad in shadow, that ran from the main roadway into the forests of Darkshore. The bear paused and glanced back at the devastation she’d wrought. Crates, sacks, and other assorted supplies packed in straw; all broken and torn, left strewn about haphazardly across the roadway. All around the broken wagon the scene she’d painted was that of total devastation. Horde marked bodies, mostly Orcish, lay heaped upon themselves. Most were soldiers. Most… not all, yet all laid still. Not even the beast of burden pulling the wagon was spared.

The bear lingered a moment. The scene burned a mark of pain, sorrow and regret that would remain with her the rest of her days… however long that should be. The bear turned back to the shadowed path with a grunt of sorrow and staggered off the road. A fair distance down this winding forest path led her to a fork in the path. Forgetting her way the huge bear leaned heavily against a thick tree. She let out a low weary groan that carried in the air. As she slumped to the ground beside the tree the huge bear’s form slowly dwindled to that of a Night Elf. Her former thick hide hid a myriad of fresh opened wounds that needed healing. Naked and alone the Night Elf pressed herself up against the thick tree, the pain of her wounds coming sharper now that she inhabited this much frailer figure. She stifled a cry, clasping her hand over her mouth as the shock of what she’d just done pour over her. Hands shaking, she managed to draw lightly on the healing energies of nature all around her. Nanaai’s mind calmed, though the weight in her heart remained. Slowly she drew upon that subtle power until most of her minor wounds had knit closed, and her more serious wounds had for now stopped bleeding. It was a half measure. She would need bandaging but that’ll have to wait.

Nanaai’s long mane of hair shimmered back to its natural silver though it lacked any brilliance. She appeared as though she’d not had a proper bath in some time. Dirty, haggard and weary, Nanaai lifted herself to shaky feet. She needed to get back to her own supply stash. She looked down either fork in her path trying to remember which way she had come, and for the life of her couldn’t ever remember coming upon this particular fork in the path. It was strangely new to her. Pressed as she was against the thick tree she suddenly became aware of how foreign it felt. She pressed herself back and touched the tree again as though she were touching an old friend. “You don’t belong.” Nanaai glances up at the boughs. It’s beautifully verdant canopy curved out at their peak and then feel back toward the earth as if unable to bear the weight of their vast and robust leaves. Nanaai blinked hard, fighting back a headache of fatigue and confusion. She suddenly found herself surrounded by long thin vine-like branches that carried their leaves to the earth. “Where did you come from?” She softly asked the tree. It was then that she noticed the tree sprouted its root over a large boulder before burrowing deep into the earth.

Curious, she carefully stepped around the thick trunk of the tree and found that the earth fell slightly to a steep hillside. Leaning to peer down the hillside Nanaai noticed a strange structure. Carefully making her way down the face of the hill to flatter ground she turned to see a crude opening cut into the face of the boulder. A breath of air drifted from the opening and for a moment she felt as if something beckoned her to enter. The fine hairs on her neck and arms stood on end, though she felt a sudden wave of intrigue mixed with concerned tightened her chest. She couldn’t leave it alone. She stepped into the darkness and immediately a foreboding presence fell over her like a wet blanket. She knew she wasn’t alone. Nanaai drew upon the moonspirit’s grace to bless her eyes. The darkness parted before her and she could see descending steps cut into the stone floor. She drew and deep breath and cautiously continued forward.

The descent twisted in a tight circle for several hundred steps until finally a large darkened room opened up to her. At the center of the spacious room sat a large pool of crystalline water. Similar to any other moonwell Nanaai had ever seen these water glowed with a faint blue light. Yet unlike any other moonwell she’d ever seen, as Nanaai approached not only did she note that the pool’s physical construction was unlike any Night Elfen make but the waters themselves felt strange. Different somehow. If they were derived from a moonwell, something else was done to it. An air of dread pressed against her as she neared the waters. Neatly folded on the ledge of the pool was a small finely woven towel. A silent voice arose from the waters bidding her to wet the towel in the waters. Nanaai hesitated. It was foolish to do, but something overwhelmed her better logic. Her hesitation was replaced by a strong need to touch the gleaming pool of otherworldly waters.

Nanaai sat carefully at the pool’s side amidst aches and complaints from her wounds, and took up the towel. She peered at the pool a long moment before moving to dip the towel into the waters. Nearing the waters she catches her reflection and paused. The face staring back at her seemed as her own, yet didn’t. It felt like a wholly different Elf looking back at her. Shaking the notion form her mind, Nanaai lowered the towel nearer the water. Suddenly the eyes of her reflection turn black. The sudden shift startled her and though she dropped the towel into the water a hand splashed out from the pool and seized her wrist, preventing her from pulling back. Her reflection, Nanaai’s reflection, smiled. The reflection pulled heavily on Nanaai’s wrist hauling her off the ledge and into the pool’s waters. Nanaai kicked and struggled against something, or someone, that pulled unfathomably her deeper that what the pool should have been.

The reflection then pulled Nanaai’s head out of the water keeping her off balance and unable to get a foothold. As she spat and gasped for air the now very real reflection with darkened eyes spoke into Nanaai’s ear with a heavy whisper. “You can no longer deny me.” The darkened eyed reflection pushed her head back into the water. The reflection’s voice reverberated with a ghostly quality throughout the shimmering waters. “Give in to me!”

Nanaai was finally able to grasp a strong hold onto the reflection’s arms. She twisted in the water and began to shift into her Owlcat form, though something stops her mid transition. Regardless, Nanaai breaks the dark-eyed hold and scrambled out of the reflecting pool, pouring herself over the pool ledge into a heap. Wracked with confusion and pain. Several of her wounds from earlier had reopened smearing the slick blood across the stones as she struggled back from the pool. Her black eyed reflection calmly stepped out of the pool with a wide grin. Nanaai exploded with rage at seeing her reflection’s grin and lunged at the reflection, pinning dark-eyed version of herself against the wall of the cave. The reflection clasped Nanaai’s face in her hands showing no sign of fear, or even concern. Somehow the touch of this dark-eyed reflection forced Nanaai back into her Night Elf form. Nanaai glanced at herself then back those darkened eyes. In them she saw the depths of all the horrors wrought by her own hands. The horrors of her past, present, and future. The black eyed reflection spoke. Her darkening lips curled into a snarl. “I will not be denied.”

Searing pain radiated throughout Nanaai’s skull. Amidst the howl of her own scream everything turned bright white, and then suddenly black. Time fell away as she tumbled into the great nothing.

Nanaai gasped suddenly. Her breath came back to her in fits and gasps. Pain stuck like lightening and she struggled to push herself up in the darkness. She fumbled across the stone hewn floors frantically, blindly, till she found something. A wall. No, a ledge. Fear gripped her as memories of the pool flooded back to her. Even as she recalled the darkened eyes of her reflection, Nanaai forced herself to slow down and collect her thoughts. She pressed herself up to her knees, her arms raised ready to fend off another attack. The gentle glow that had filled the room before was gone, leaving only a stale darkness. Nanaai reached inward to that gift give her by the moonspirit and once more her vision parted through the darkness. She tentatively raised her head and found herself utterly alone.

The pool was still there though it looked as though it’d been bone dry for some time. No strange shimmering waters. The air was thick and stale. A thin layer of dust covered the floor and pool ledge. Nanaai began to doubt herself. She slowly rose to her feet on shaky legs and made her way back up the stairs. Had she imagined it all? Was it just some hallucination? It felt so real… Nanaai stepped out from the rock and drew a deep calming breath of the fresh forest air. When she turned back to look there was no longer a thick verdant tree standing upon the rock. No sheets of leafy-willowy vines draping as if from the heavens. Just the rock. The entrance too was gone, replaced by a stone face weathered by the ages. It was just another large rock.

Nanaai shivered deeply but not from cold. A deep gnawing fright knotted her stomach. She suddenly remembered where she’d been heading before and needing to get away she scampered back up the hillside to the small foot path she’d been following. She shuddered at finding that the fork in the path too was gone. She raised a shaky hand to her brow which brought with it a wince of pain. She was reminded of the wounds that had been reopened. Not now. Not here. She wasn’t going to lose her mind just yet. Not like this. She needed to find her stash. Her clothing and other supplies that she had hidden away. Giving the rock one last glance Nanaai took two careful steps backward. She turned and deftly shifted fully into that form given her by the moonspirit, that of a darkly colored Owlcat. With a careful and wary bound she disappeared into the brush.

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