The Petit Planet Wiki - User contributions [en]

Dorjelang/Story

2025-11-17T18:53:13Z

Rmpty: added 3rd story title

{{Upcoming}}
{{Stub}}
{{Neighbor Tabs}}
{{Neighbor Stories
|s1_title = Dream-Collecting Journey in the Mountains
|s1_reward = 100
|s1_text =This was Dorjelang's fifth year as a hat-making apprentive.
On this day, he was inspecting two hat flowers by the window, carefully considering which would better compliment his spring-welcoming hat.

Suddenly, he heard a cry for help from his senior in the courtyard. The dried materials were in dissaray, scattered and blown about by a harsh wind. Amidst thundering steps, Dorjelang rushed back and forth with his colossal form that threatened to blot out the sky, collecting all the pieces in his arms at a moment's notice. His senior, who just so happened to pass by with stacks of new fabric, called on him for help as well. The cook then appeared with two buckets of sweet soup and handed them to him with a smile, asking if he could drop them off at the canteen on the way.

Dorjelang nodded solemnly at all these requests, but his eyes shone with confidence from being trusted with important duties.

Meanwhile, up on the rooftop, Master Sparrok munched on roasted cocoons and clicked her tongue in annoyance as she watched the big fellow busy about the yard. Soon, she finished off her last skewer in one swoop.
A skewer was cast, and it struck and bounced off Dorjelang's back. He paused, scratched that spot in confusion, then turned and looked up.
On the rooftop, Dorjelang sat obediently by the grill with his feet and hands tucked inward. On the other side, Master Sparrok stood with folded arms, looking down at her student.

"How long have you been my student?" she asked, but before he could answer, she pointed to his nose and continued, "Five years! It's about time for you to graduate!"

Dorjelang dat quietly with a serious face, lost in thought. The awkward silence grew between them as it always did, until Master Sparrok finally hopped off the parapet in frustration. Suddenly, she was a full five heads shorter than him, but her chirping and scolding lent her such a domineering presence. She recounted and lectured him on his acctions from the six wall-breaching incidents across five years to the all-too-tidy yarn pile last night.

"You're a hatmaker! Stop letting trivial matters occupy your time and go think about why we make hats!" she said.

Dorjelang sheepishly scratched his head and nodded, which irritated his master so much that her white feather scarf went askew.

Dorjelang used to be someone weak who needed protection and sheltering from others, but everyone in the workshophad seen him accidentally breaking table legs, crushing teacups, and cracking plates...
Therefore, they thought the gentle giant must have been too humble about his strength.

For Dorjelang, he counted his luck among the stars to be able to help the weak with what strength he possesed. It wasn't about meeting anyone's expectations, it was about having the ability to say, "I want to, therefore I can."
But Master Sparrok watched Dorjelang as he left and remembered how her bright-eyed student dug her out of a pile of magazines in the basement five years ago... No, scratch that part.

She was standing atop the magazine pile with arms crossed, quizzing him about hats as he answered everything perfectly.
Learning on his own in secret? How dare he?! She was so angry that she hopped off the pile and twisted her ankle... No... Scratch that part too.

She was by the magazine pile and saw how Dorjelang recreated every hat on the pages with reeds. The audacity to learn in secret... She turned away with a scowl.

Even so, Dorjelang had earned approval with a "Come to class at 8 AM sharp tomorrow."
It evoked a special kind of joy and anticipation in him, one that was quite different from the feeling of helping others.

Five years had passed since Dorjelang became a hat-making apprentice.
On this day, he chose a dandelion as the flower for the spring-welcoming hat.
Carrying his new hatmaking chest, he set out to journey once more. He still dreampt of the past, of the rocky mountain paths, the snow, the forests, the ever-flowing winds, and the gently swaying foxtails.

A breeze sent the dandelion on his hat toward distant mountains to collect these dreams. He wondered who it would stir awake this time.

|s2_title = The World Outside the Hat
|s2_reward = 200
|s2_text =It was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar.
All his life, he felt adrift in a vast sea of people — Without direction, without a place to belong.

After hauling five boxes of goods for a shopkeeper at the street corner, it suddenly occured to him that everyone here was so small, and he was incredibly strong in comparison... [italics] Maybe ... I can actually help them? [end of italics]

The revelation filled him with unprecedented joy and the urge to act, but he must stay calm. A slight turn of his body was enough to send someone flying...
Mmmooo? Wasn't someone here just now?

After wight victims, six cracked chairs, four shattered steps, and three flattened billboards, all eyes were trained on him with terror.

He spent all his money making amends, then hurried through every intersection, anxiously avoiding anyone who came too close. Finally, he found a quiet corner to settle in. Crouching down, he took a deep breath and reminded himself to exersize more self-restraint.

When he lifted his head again, he realized the was at a high point in the bazaar.
Following the sound of music, he saw cheerful crowds, lively stages, and a shimmering magician's tent below...
This place probably isn't right for him...
Dorjelang scratched his head nervously and shook it. No, it wasn't about fitting in. He left home to find his buddy and bring him back.

Dorjelang looked at the stage again as another group of laughing performers took their turn. This was the world of dreams and aspirations that his buddy lived in. Would he ever want to return with him at all?

Lost in thought, Dorjelang found himself drawn in closer to the stage. The mesmerizing lights kept shifting, and no one noticed when one of the light poles started to wobble.
He instinctively caught the falling pole, but when he turned around, he saw countless fearful, confused eyes staring at him, as if trying to see right through his otherness.

In this world, he could easily destroy everything with a slight movement of his hand.
His turquoise beads, horned barbaric hat, towering build, and thunderous voice... everything about him struck fear in others.
He realized that being powerful and mighty wasn't something to be proud of after all.

Frightened by their fear, Dorjelang fled in panic, accidentally bumping into something as he ran...
Amidst the rising dust,dizzy and disoriented, Dorjelang saw a massive figure approaching. He could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of meeting someone like himself.
The dust settled, but Dorjelang didn't see anyone.
"Tsk! Tsk tsk! Who?! Who broke down the walls of my workshop?..."
Dorjelang looked down and saw a little one wearing a white feather scarf. She looked up at him judgingly.
"You again?"

Dorjelang kept his serious face as he pondered how someone so little could exude such immense presence. The lengthy silence between them irritated the smaller one, and she jumped up and smacked Dorjelang right on his head.

"Who are you trying to bluff with that hat? I'll give you credit for helping with the light pole, but now you've got to pay for my walls!"

The smack snapped Dorjelang out of it. He adjusted his hat and bowed humbly as he patted his chest.

"This is my fault, and I'll take responsibility!" he said.

This was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar.
It was also the day he first met Master Sparrok, and Surprisingly, he didn't need to become stronger. He just needed to appear more approachable.
That's when he took off the fierce looking hat of his and changed how he interacted with and saw the world around him, starting with working to pay off the damage he'd caused.
He came here for a reason... but he couldn't remember what.

|s3_title =Dandelions on the Snowy Mountain
|s3_reward = 300
|s3_text =

|s4_title =Over the Mountain Far From Home
|s4_reward = 400
|s4_text =This was Dorjelang’s sixteenth year living on the highland pastures.
Back then, he knew nothing of the world beyond.

Dorjelang was seen as someone who needed protection in his tribe. He thought if he could be a little stronger and a little tougher, put on a stern face and look a little fiercer… then maybe he would actually become more capable.
Perhaps due to his frailty, there were many things off-limits to him, like going down to the river, wrestling, or herding alone.
Concerned gazes followed him around whenever he tried to get involved.
The old herder who tutored him said that his body wasn’t as strong because he carried all the good fortune of the highlands on his head, that he was a child blessed by their deity.
Whenever they took him out to herd, the wolves would scatter, snowstorms would cease, and blood-sucking insects would disperse.

Dorjelang wanted to believe in it.
During the ceremonial wrestling match held to honor their deity, Dorjelang sat by the lakeside and watched the spectacle of fervor and power. Out of place and even slightly dissonant with the scene was low, chanted verses from the herder next to him:

When chaos gave birth to earth and sky,
White yak from the lotus did arise,
With ears that hear all earthly things,
Nose that scents far and wide,
Wings to soar o’er mountains and rivers,
Hooves to race across plains and fissures,
He is the mighty mountain high,
He is the gentle flowing stream,
He is the father working hard,
He is the mother’s loving heart,
He tames the strong and lifts the meek,
His righteous name through ages speak,
His legend in our hearts engraved,
Through song we sing his ageless praise.

The song spoke of the highland deity.
Legend has it that “he” looked just like everyone else in the tribe, with long flowing hair, a strong athletic build, and mighty long horns, that “he” danced to the heavens and sang for the earth.
“Behold, it brings success. Beyond it’s filled with fortune. And behold, it possesses the eternal…”
Dorjelang caught himself humming along. He glanced at his own reflection in the emerald lake… Me? I look nothing like the deity, moo.

A buddy from the neighboring tribe came over. Dorjelang could see his messy hair and his beautiful, sturdy horns that put his own feeble ones to shame. His buddy stroked his chin in deep thought.

“They say not to mind what others think, but that’s easier said than done.’Hearing’ is a way for us to feel the world,” he said.
A hat with solid long horns was then placed on Dorjelang’s head.
“HAHMM! Now you look like a tough guy! Put on the hat, and you can become whoever you want to be. Come on, show us your angry face!”
In the lake’s reflection, Dorjelang did look quite mighty! And just like that, the kid was fooled by his buddy.
The first among them to think of leaving was his buddy. Pulling Dorjelang along, he made grand plans of how he would conquer the endless mountains and see the world beyond in pursuit of his dreams.

Dreams? What are… Dreams?
Brothers stick together till the end, so you’re coming too, Dorjelang.

Dorjelang was worried that he’d hold his buddy back, being as frail as he was. But his friend had unwavering faith in him.

Before they left, his buddy got caught “loaning” a couple of barley buns from an old herder. Dorjelang went for the rescue, but froze at the doorway.
“HAHMM? You have no right to keep him on the pastures forever…”
On the glimmering highlands where heaven is just a few steps away, too many struggle to make the journey because of a weighted heart.
“You’ve never believed in him. You just think he’s weak, and needs protection…”
Outside the house, Dorjelang listened as Doggie came over. As always, it sat beside him, panting with a lolling tongue, as if saying, “Eavestropping too, huh?”
“How long will you deceive him with these words? Are you going to keep sheltering him his whole life?”

Dorjelang gazed up at the sunset’s glow, at the deity watching over the highlands.

“There is no divine blessing. He has the same horns and fur on his head as us, plus a yak horn hat that I traded with barley buns…”

Please let all my good fortune rest upon my buddy’s head–

“I have my own dreams and my own path to follow, so I won't stay… but save half the barely bun for him. I’m leaving this place…”

May he be safe, free, and prosperous on the journey of his dreams.

This was Dorjelang’s sixteenth year living on the highland pastures.
In the empty house his buddy left behind, the old herder threw him a bundle of supplies, his mustache bristling with anger. He told Dorjelang to get out there and bring back his good-for-nothing buddy.

Finally, he understood there was a kind of longing in this world that words cannot capture.
He wanted to cross this mountain, and the next one beyond, and countless more after.
}}

Dorjelang/Story

2025-11-17T18:51:26Z

Rmpty: added 4th story

{{Upcoming}}
{{Stub}}
{{Neighbor Tabs}}
{{Neighbor Stories
|s1_title = Dream-Collecting Journey in the Mountains
|s1_reward = 100
|s1_text =This was Dorjelang's fifth year as a hat-making apprentive.
On this day, he was inspecting two hat flowers by the window, carefully considering which would better compliment his spring-welcoming hat.

Suddenly, he heard a cry for help from his senior in the courtyard. The dried materials were in dissaray, scattered and blown about by a harsh wind. Amidst thundering steps, Dorjelang rushed back and forth with his colossal form that threatened to blot out the sky, collecting all the pieces in his arms at a moment's notice. His senior, who just so happened to pass by with stacks of new fabric, called on him for help as well. The cook then appeared with two buckets of sweet soup and handed them to him with a smile, asking if he could drop them off at the canteen on the way.

Dorjelang nodded solemnly at all these requests, but his eyes shone with confidence from being trusted with important duties.

Meanwhile, up on the rooftop, Master Sparrok munched on roasted cocoons and clicked her tongue in annoyance as she watched the big fellow busy about the yard. Soon, she finished off her last skewer in one swoop.
A skewer was cast, and it struck and bounced off Dorjelang's back. He paused, scratched that spot in confusion, then turned and looked up.
On the rooftop, Dorjelang sat obediently by the grill with his feet and hands tucked inward. On the other side, Master Sparrok stood with folded arms, looking down at her student.

"How long have you been my student?" she asked, but before he could answer, she pointed to his nose and continued, "Five years! It's about time for you to graduate!"

Dorjelang dat quietly with a serious face, lost in thought. The awkward silence grew between them as it always did, until Master Sparrok finally hopped off the parapet in frustration. Suddenly, she was a full five heads shorter than him, but her chirping and scolding lent her such a domineering presence. She recounted and lectured him on his acctions from the six wall-breaching incidents across five years to the all-too-tidy yarn pile last night.

"You're a hatmaker! Stop letting trivial matters occupy your time and go think about why we make hats!" she said.

Dorjelang sheepishly scratched his head and nodded, which irritated his master so much that her white feather scarf went askew.

Dorjelang used to be someone weak who needed protection and sheltering from others, but everyone in the workshophad seen him accidentally breaking table legs, crushing teacups, and cracking plates...
Therefore, they thought the gentle giant must have been too humble about his strength.

For Dorjelang, he counted his luck among the stars to be able to help the weak with what strength he possesed. It wasn't about meeting anyone's expectations, it was about having the ability to say, "I want to, therefore I can."
But Master Sparrok watched Dorjelang as he left and remembered how her bright-eyed student dug her out of a pile of magazines in the basement five years ago... No, scratch that part.

She was standing atop the magazine pile with arms crossed, quizzing him about hats as he answered everything perfectly.
Learning on his own in secret? How dare he?! She was so angry that she hopped off the pile and twisted her ankle... No... Scratch that part too.

She was by the magazine pile and saw how Dorjelang recreated every hat on the pages with reeds. The audacity to learn in secret... She turned away with a scowl.

Even so, Dorjelang had earned approval with a "Come to class at 8 AM sharp tomorrow."
It evoked a special kind of joy and anticipation in him, one that was quite different from the feeling of helping others.

Five years had passed since Dorjelang became a hat-making apprentice.
On this day, he chose a dandelion as the flower for the spring-welcoming hat.
Carrying his new hatmaking chest, he set out to journey once more. He still dreampt of the past, of the rocky mountain paths, the snow, the forests, the ever-flowing winds, and the gently swaying foxtails.

A breeze sent the dandelion on his hat toward distant mountains to collect these dreams. He wondered who it would stir awake this time.

|s2_title = The World Outside the Hat
|s2_reward = 200
|s2_text =It was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar.
All his life, he felt adrift in a vast sea of people — Without direction, without a place to belong.

After hauling five boxes of goods for a shopkeeper at the street corner, it suddenly occured to him that everyone here was so small, and he was incredibly strong in comparison... [italics] Maybe ... I can actually help them? [end of italics]

The revelation filled him with unprecedented joy and the urge to act, but he must stay calm. A slight turn of his body was enough to send someone flying...
Mmmooo? Wasn't someone here just now?

After wight victims, six cracked chairs, four shattered steps, and three flattened billboards, all eyes were trained on him with terror.

He spent all his money making amends, then hurried through every intersection, anxiously avoiding anyone who came too close. Finally, he found a quiet corner to settle in. Crouching down, he took a deep breath and reminded himself to exersize more self-restraint.

When he lifted his head again, he realized the was at a high point in the bazaar.
Following the sound of music, he saw cheerful crowds, lively stages, and a shimmering magician's tent below...
This place probably isn't right for him...
Dorjelang scratched his head nervously and shook it. No, it wasn't about fitting in. He left home to find his buddy and bring him back.

Dorjelang looked at the stage again as another group of laughing performers took their turn. This was the world of dreams and aspirations that his buddy lived in. Would he ever want to return with him at all?

Lost in thought, Dorjelang found himself drawn in closer to the stage. The mesmerizing lights kept shifting, and no one noticed when one of the light poles started to wobble.
He instinctively caught the falling pole, but when he turned around, he saw countless fearful, confused eyes staring at him, as if trying to see right through his otherness.

In this world, he could easily destroy everything with a slight movement of his hand.
His turquoise beads, horned barbaric hat, towering build, and thunderous voice... everything about him struck fear in others.
He realized that being powerful and mighty wasn't something to be proud of after all.

Frightened by their fear, Dorjelang fled in panic, accidentally bumping into something as he ran...
Amidst the rising dust,dizzy and disoriented, Dorjelang saw a massive figure approaching. He could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of meeting someone like himself.
The dust settled, but Dorjelang didn't see anyone.
"Tsk! Tsk tsk! Who?! Who broke down the walls of my workshop?..."
Dorjelang looked down and saw a little one wearing a white feather scarf. She looked up at him judgingly.
"You again?"

Dorjelang kept his serious face as he pondered how someone so little could exude such immense presence. The lengthy silence between them irritated the smaller one, and she jumped up and smacked Dorjelang right on his head.

"Who are you trying to bluff with that hat? I'll give you credit for helping with the light pole, but now you've got to pay for my walls!"

The smack snapped Dorjelang out of it. He adjusted his hat and bowed humbly as he patted his chest.

"This is my fault, and I'll take responsibility!" he said.

This was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar.
It was also the day he first met Master Sparrok, and Surprisingly, he didn't need to become stronger. He just needed to appear more approachable.
That's when he took off the fierce looking hat of his and changed how he interacted with and saw the world around him, starting with working to pay off the damage he'd caused.
He came here for a reason... but he couldn't remember what.

|s3_title =
|s3_reward = 300
|s3_text =

|s4_title =Over the Mountain Far From Home
|s4_reward = 400
|s4_text =This was Dorjelang’s sixteenth year living on the highland pastures.
Back then, he knew nothing of the world beyond.

Dorjelang was seen as someone who needed protection in his tribe. He thought if he could be a little stronger and a little tougher, put on a stern face and look a little fiercer… then maybe he would actually become more capable.
Perhaps due to his frailty, there were many things off-limits to him, like going down to the river, wrestling, or herding alone.
Concerned gazes followed him around whenever he tried to get involved.
The old herder who tutored him said that his body wasn’t as strong because he carried all the good fortune of the highlands on his head, that he was a child blessed by their deity.
Whenever they took him out to herd, the wolves would scatter, snowstorms would cease, and blood-sucking insects would disperse.

Dorjelang wanted to believe in it.
During the ceremonial wrestling match held to honor their deity, Dorjelang sat by the lakeside and watched the spectacle of fervor and power. Out of place and even slightly dissonant with the scene was low, chanted verses from the herder next to him:

When chaos gave birth to earth and sky,
White yak from the lotus did arise,
With ears that hear all earthly things,
Nose that scents far and wide,
Wings to soar o’er mountains and rivers,
Hooves to race across plains and fissures,
He is the mighty mountain high,
He is the gentle flowing stream,
He is the father working hard,
He is the mother’s loving heart,
He tames the strong and lifts the meek,
His righteous name through ages speak,
His legend in our hearts engraved,
Through song we sing his ageless praise.

The song spoke of the highland deity.
Legend has it that “he” looked just like everyone else in the tribe, with long flowing hair, a strong athletic build, and mighty long horns, that “he” danced to the heavens and sang for the earth.
“Behold, it brings success. Beyond it’s filled with fortune. And behold, it possesses the eternal…”
Dorjelang caught himself humming along. He glanced at his own reflection in the emerald lake… Me? I look nothing like the deity, moo.

A buddy from the neighboring tribe came over. Dorjelang could see his messy hair and his beautiful, sturdy horns that put his own feeble ones to shame. His buddy stroked his chin in deep thought.

“They say not to mind what others think, but that’s easier said than done.’Hearing’ is a way for us to feel the world,” he said.
A hat with solid long horns was then placed on Dorjelang’s head.
“HAHMM! Now you look like a tough guy! Put on the hat, and you can become whoever you want to be. Come on, show us your angry face!”
In the lake’s reflection, Dorjelang did look quite mighty! And just like that, the kid was fooled by his buddy.
The first among them to think of leaving was his buddy. Pulling Dorjelang along, he made grand plans of how he would conquer the endless mountains and see the world beyond in pursuit of his dreams.

Dreams? What are… Dreams?
Brothers stick together till the end, so you’re coming too, Dorjelang.

Dorjelang was worried that he’d hold his buddy back, being as frail as he was. But his friend had unwavering faith in him.

Before they left, his buddy got caught “loaning” a couple of barley buns from an old herder. Dorjelang went for the rescue, but froze at the doorway.
“HAHMM? You have no right to keep him on the pastures forever…”
On the glimmering highlands where heaven is just a few steps away, too many struggle to make the journey because of a weighted heart.
“You’ve never believed in him. You just think he’s weak, and needs protection…”
Outside the house, Dorjelang listened as Doggie came over. As always, it sat beside him, panting with a lolling tongue, as if saying, “Eavestropping too, huh?”
“How long will you deceive him with these words? Are you going to keep sheltering him his whole life?”

Dorjelang gazed up at the sunset’s glow, at the deity watching over the highlands.

“There is no divine blessing. He has the same horns and fur on his head as us, plus a yak horn hat that I traded with barley buns…”

Please let all my good fortune rest upon my buddy’s head–

“I have my own dreams and my own path to follow, so I won't stay… but save half the barely bun for him. I’m leaving this place…”

May he be safe, free, and prosperous on the journey of his dreams.

This was Dorjelang’s sixteenth year living on the highland pastures.
In the empty house his buddy left behind, the old herder threw him a bundle of supplies, his mustache bristling with anger. He told Dorjelang to get out there and bring back his good-for-nothing buddy.

Finally, he understood there was a kind of longing in this world that words cannot capture.
He wanted to cross this mountain, and the next one beyond, and countless more after.
}}

Msafiri/Story

2025-11-17T18:11:37Z

Rmpty: added special coming-of-age gift story

{{Upcoming}}
{{Stub}}
{{Neighbor Tabs}}
{{Neighbor Stories
|s1_title = The "Little Brother"
|s1_reward = 100
|s1_text = Under the dim moonlight, a circle of young creatures engaged in animated chatter on the great plains.

"It's my turn! What do you think we should play?" 
"No, no. It's my turn today! I wanna go fishing!" 
"But you get the next two days too, that's not fair at all!" 
"It's not my fault you won't be here for your turn... Plus, I need to practice hunting anyway." 
"How about I go instead? There'll be tumbleweeds today, and I want to catch the biggest one!" 
"Alright, enough. Let's do this the usual way — draw lots!" 
One of them pulled out a handful of wooden strips from their pocket, and the circle instantly closed as everyone picked their lot.

"The triangle mark — I got it!" Someone let out a victorious whistle as the others reluctantly returned their blank strips with pouty faces. And as this was happening, Msafiri was going about his usual hunting practices with his younger brother, blissfully unaware of the shenanigans that were about to unfold. His bright, sharp eyes focused intently on the prey mid-flight. 
He crouched and sprang up in a clean pounce. The soft feathers landed in his palms right on cue, and so did the prey's small form. His little brother clapped in celebration. 
"Plop!' said the small pebble that suddenly struck his brother's back. Msafiri immediately locked onto the source of this prank with deadly precision. He was on his way to teach the little troublemaker a lesson when his brother spoke up. 
"It's fine! That was our signal anyways, heh."

He watched as his brother skipped toward the "secret meeting" and kept watch from a respectful distance. Even kids need their privacy, he thought to himself. 
However, whether it was the telltale winds or the rush of excitement after a successful hunt, Msafiri's sensitive ears overheard some strange chatter.

"Weren't you guys supposed to take turns? Why are you guys here?" 
"Taking turns just doesn't work. Drawing lots is way easier! Besides, I got lucky, hehe. Can't blame me for that!" 
"Well, fine! You know the rules, show me the good stuff first..."

Could it be that his little brother was involved in something written in the sacred laws...? 
Before Msafiri could put two and two together, the little rascal who had drawn the lucky lot rushed up to him. 
"Big bro Radarear! What are we gonna do? Hunting? Chase tumbleweed? What it is, I'm your little brother for today!" 
"You're my... little brother? What do you mean?" 
Msafiri looked down at the kid with pigtails and expectant eyes. His lips twitched as even more questions popped into his head. 
"Well, anyone who draws the lucky lot can be your little brother for a day for the price of one fish! I've already paid mine~!" 
As the answer dawned on him, Msafiri lifted his head and twitched his ears as he spotted his actual little brother sneaking away. 
''Uh-oh, busted!'' His little brother, who hadn't gone far, shuddered as the gravity of getting caught red-pawed by Msafiri descended on him.

Finally, Msafiri learned why his little brother, who usually complained about never having enough fish to eat, had been sharing half of the catch lately.

|s2_title = Kula Bata!
|s2_reward = 200
|s2_text = This was the first time Msafiri had tasted such authentic...sand. 
He spat a couple of times as he stood up. Fine yellow sand reustled and fell with his movements. 
The lens cap of the recording device was off, and the localized sandstorm was captured in its entirety. 
"Is it filming already?" Msafiri leaned in closer, blowing away the misbehaving feathers on his headband that interrupted his curiosity.

The camera bobbed up and down,, nodding affirmatively in place of its operator. 
"Well then, welcome to Planet D-18's exploration site. I'm your Driftingale Exploration Team Guide, Msafiri." 
He abducted an innocent emergency flashlight from somewhere to serve as a microphone while skilfully mimicking a documentary host.

"As you can see — we've just been invited to an exceptionally warm welcome ceremony fresh out of the vehicle, and even sampled some local delicacies." 
"Pfft—" the cameraman barely stifled a giggle. Msafiri tactfully stepped out of frame, leaving the recording to the professionals as he turned his attention to setting up camp.

But the camera faithfully captured everything in sight, including a greenhorn who accidentally tore a hole in the tent just as another wave of yellow sand came with a gust of wind. Fortunately, this one came and went quickly, and Msafiri's timely assisted evacuation meant no one was hurt. No one, except for the torn tent, now half-filled with sand. 
The green horn was at a loss after causing the major blunder as Msafiri pulled out his allpurpose tape and started mending the tent.

"This is perfect. I've heard about this thing called sand bath therapy. Should we all give it a go? Kula bata!" he suggested.

That night, the entire team enjoyed a nice, long, three-hour "sand bath." Topics from serious expedition work to not-so-serious gossip were exchanged, and the newly assembled team became fast acquaintances in no time.

While the windswept sands didn't exactly have any real therapeutic properies, at the very least, some of this team felt relieved. 
And for Msafiri, that was all that mattered.
|s3_title = Special Coming-of-Age Gift
|s3_reward = 300
|s3_text =On the 364th day of his fourteenth year, Msafiri became a “runaway” on the eve of his adulthood.

He still remembered that phone call from Driftingale Travel Agency years ago, which wasn’t meant for him, but still…
It quietly planted the seed of a dream that hot summer afternoon, one of measuring every planet and every islet with his own eyes, ears, and feet. And where better to start than the very place he called home?

Msafiri chose the perfect day to set out, with the intention of making his very own special coming-of-age gift.
However, trials were afoot for these nascent dreams and their dreamer. And just like that, Msafiri lost his way.
The lack of experience and days of roughing it in the wilderness had taught Msafiri harsh lessons. He’d never felt this challenged back when he hunted with his parents and little brother. Only now did he realize that he wasn’t quite the skilled hunter he thought himself to be out here on the plains, let alone finding directions, plotting routes, or setting up camp… All that condensed theory and knowledge in textbooks proved painfully shallow when the time came for him to apply them.
But the scorching sun had no sympathy for those beneath its rays. Msafiri huddled in a patch of tree shade, too hungry to find rest.
He took out his notebook and began scribbling down everything he’d seen in the past few days.

Unbeknownst to him, the note he’d left under a cup before leaving had been whisked away by the wind. After fruitless searches around the territory, his friends and family, who were all there for his coming-of-age ceremony, soon mobilized to track down the rebellious young Msafiri. As night fell and the air cooled down, Msafiri set out once more to find proper sustenance. He wouldn’t allow himself to share meals with the vultures again.

As Msafiri twitched his ears and shook his head, trying to shake off unpleasant memories from yesterday, he heard the sound of flowing water from ahead.
Perhaps he could try his luck at catching fish? In the worst case, he could still drink his fill – Now was hardly the time to be concerned over catching a cold from getting wet.
His empty stomach had been growling all the way, and had there been any fish in the water, they’d all be startled and scattered by now.
Msafiri rested near the bank and peered closely at the water’s surface. Under the silvery moon, a small patch of odd scale patterns appeared before him. It almost looked like… a map?
It was the Guide Fish! The mythical fish that bore a map on their scales. It would guide the seeker toward treasure, which was determined by what the seeker desired most in the moment.
Suddenly, the hunger in his stomach dissolved, and all Msafiri wanted was to go home. The fish swam cheerfully in the water and responded to his wish by guiding the lost boy back home.

Finally, after passing three river forks, Msafiri spotted several worried figures in the distance. Thank goodness the legend of the Guide Fish holds true, he thought and collapsed from exhaustion before he could crack a smile. The last thing he heard might have been the sound of a fish leaping out of water, but for the first time in his life, Msafiri dismissed it as a mere hallucination of his keen, reliable ears.

The coming-of-age celebration finally commenced, and Msafiri received gifts from the Driftingale Travel Agency – a backpack full of travel supplies and a half-written road journal.
Someone still remembered that little boy who rushed to answer the phone call, it seemed.

Though Msafiri wondered… why did the fish soup at the bonfire party that night taste a bit too salty?

|s4_title =
|s4_reward = 400
|s4_text =
}}

Pink Square Anthias

2025-11-15T22:03:19Z

Rmpty: added omnipedia

{{Upcoming}}
{{Stub}}
{{Creature Infobox
|name = Pink Square Anthias
|number = 047
|image = Pink Square Anthias Icon.png
|category = Fish
|description =Beauty and taste rarely go hand in hand, but the pink square anthias pulls it off.
|distribution=Hexia|habitat=Coastal waters|max_size=51.00|min_size=34.00|type=Coral Fish|time=Nighttime}}
'''Pink Square Anthias''' is a [[Fish]] [[Creature]] in ''[[Petit Planet]].''

== Omnipedia ==
The colorful pink square anthias are, in a broader sense, a type of grouper. In some regions, they are more likely to be eaten than kept as ornamental fish.

Interestingly, they used to belong to the genus Anthias, meaning "fish," before being moved under the genus Psuedanthias, meaning "false fish."

==Other Languages==
{{Other Languages
|en = Pink Square Anthias
|zhs =
}}

==Change History==
{{Change History|introduced=Coziness Test}}

==Navigation==
{{Creature Navbox|Fish}}

Yunguo/Story

2025-11-15T21:38:24Z

Rmpty: Added 4th story and reward amount

{{Upcoming}}
{{Stub}}
{{Neighbor Tabs}}
{{Neighbor Stories
|s1_title = The Not-So-Blushy Blushberry
|s1_reward = 100
|s1_text = At the foot of [[Zhuxi Mountain]], beside the rice paddies, a few water bottles and bamboo baskets lay by the path, left there by villagers who had been working since morning. Only after hours of toil did they finally sit down for a sip of tea.

Someone jocked that most of the baskets held crops or tools, but the Yuns'? Theirs carried their two-year-old granddaughter, Blushberry.

Unlike other grey-furred toddlers, this little one looked, from the moment she was born, like a fluffy sun fallen into the bamboo grove, red and radiant, like ripe fruit on harvest day. A pity though. No matter what anyone tried, she never smiled. The moment a stranger came near, she'd shrink away. And on bad days, she'd burst into loud, panicked wails.

So lately, her grandparents had been carrying her around in a bamboo basket, hoping she'd get used to being around people, some kind of training or exposure or whatever they call it.

But little Blushberry had never budged from the depths of her basket. The Skies Above as their witness all anyone had seen were two fuzzy ears poking out.

{{tx|insert picture}}

Now, the basket had gone quiet. Perhaps she was asleep. They decided to sneak a peek— It was empty.

Empty?!

Zhuxi Mountain was in an uproar. The chestnut vendor hollered it mid-stir to his costumer. The postman, cooling off in the shade, passed it to the sugsar painting artist. The repairman fixing a bike tire called it out to the passing peddler—

"The Yuns' kid is missing!"

Did it matter if anyone actually knew who the Yun family was? Not a bit. Just spread the word. Nothing could go wrong if everyone helped look. Blushberry—that was the kid who never smiled, the one who burst into tears the moment she saw a stranger.

Gran'mama was at the well in front of the bamboo house, washing mugwort leaves when she caught wind of it. She always boiled them in summer for the little one's bath, to keep the mosquitoes away and keep the rash at bay... "Wait, who did you say was missin'?"

"Told you mah, her grandpa's no good at mindin' kids." Gran'mama grabbed her palm fan and charged down the mountain.

The search party for Blushberry stirred the entire mountain. By the time the sun was about to set, everyone finally let a breath of relief.

{{tx|insert Image}}

In the rice field, a small hill of green [[Archiboos]] tumbled apart, revealing a giggling mudball of a child, clutching an armful of enormous fruits and vegetables.

"That can't be Blushberry, can it? Blushberry never smiles. She just cries when she sees people."

But who else could it be, red as a ripened fuit, like the setting sun through the bamboo grove?

The story spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred, until it became a local legend. They said that they, Yunguo grew herself a heart, right there in the rice field. And no one could explain how.

|s2_title = The Farmer and the Seed
|s2_reward =
|s2_text = It was the tail end of yet another winter break. Down in the southern chill, Yunguo was hoping for snow. If the mountain got snowed in, she wouldn't have to go back to kindergarten.

"Schoolbag's mended. Hm? The water bottle's cracked? Better pick a sturdier one this time..."

Yunguo crouched beside Gran'mama in the little vegetable patch by their front door, digging at t il with her tiny spade and gazing up at the sky, listening to Gran'mama chatter on about the things to prepare for school. Suddenly she interrupted.

"Gran'mama, do I look strange? Do I smell strange?"

Gran'mama's hands paused from loosening the soil. She leaned close to Yunguo's little head and carefully sniffed all around before giving a serious answer.

"Yes, you do."

Hearing Gran'mama's answer, Yunguo thought, I really am no good.

"Could my Blushberry be from that seed?"

The two stared at each other in puzzled silence.

Grandma cleared her throat and began to tell story.

There once was seed, round as a rice dumpling. Anyone who saw it fell in love with it right away. It was said to grow into the most beautiful and one-of-a-kind flower in the world, though no one had ever seen it bloom.

{{tx|insert Image}}

|s3_title = My Summer with Them
|s3_reward =
|s3_text = [Seedling Class] Summer Vacation Study Group - Planting Journal
Members: [Redacted], Yunguo, [Redacted]

July 20th, Sunny Recorded by: Yunguo
Soaked tomato seeds in clean water for 1 hour, then in 55 C warm water with gentle stirring to encourage sprouting. Once sprouted, the sprout was transplanted into a pot with well-rotted organic compost.

July 27th, Sunny Recorded by: Yunguo
The tomato sprouted with many leaves and grew to about 3.5 cm tall.

August 4th, Sunny Recorded by: [Redacted]
Watered the tomato seedling and put it out in the sun.

August 5th, Rainy Recorded by: Yunguo
The roots became waterlogged, so we trimmed the dead leaves and loosened the soil to help with drainage. After Sprouting, we kept the soil moisture at around 70% to prevent more waterlogging.

August 10th, Rainy Recorded by: Yunguo
The stem reached 10cm tall. A small branch started growing near the bottom. Added Humus to increase soil moisture.

August 12th, Rainy Recorded by: [Redacted]
Watered the tomato seedling and put it out in the sun.

August 14th, Rainy Recorded by: Yunguo
The tomato's leaves turned yellow because its roots were soaked and starting to rot. it was out of oxygen and couldn't breathe, so we helped change the soil. Transplanting might break some of the roots, and it will hurt a little, but it can still survive.

{{tx|Insert image}}

August 20th, Sunny Recorded by: Yunguo
Thank the skies above, it's blooming! The stem's now 19cm tall. Trimmed dead leaves and added nitrogen fertilizer.

August 24th Sunny Recorded by: Yunguo
The scent drew in bees. Pruned extra branches and blossoms. Hoping it will bear fruit soon! It will, for sure.

August 29th, Rainy Recorded by: [Redacted]
Watered the tomato seedling and put it out in the sun.

August 31st, Rainy Recorded by: Yunguo
Flowers fell, no fruit. I don't think I can save this seed anymore.

Yunguo brought home the tomato seedling hidden under her clothes. It was already after dinner. at this hour, Gran'mama was usually off in someone else's yard, so there was no chance of running into her...

"What are you sneakin' in there?"
Gran'mama's voice came from right behind her.

"You were thinkin' of swappin' this sorry thing in for the tomato you grew, weren't you?"
Yunguo's face flushed deep red. She couldn't say a word. She just closed her eyes and braced for the storm...

{{tx|Insert image}}

But Gran'mama only gave her head a gentle pat and sighed. "Not every seedling will grow strong just because you tend it with care. There are storms, draughts, pests... all kinds of hardship. You never know what they'll come up against. You have to face that. So do they."

The next day at school, Yunguo's group turned in a yellowing tomato seedling. "Remember who was fighting to be in her group before?
"Some prodigy farmer she turned out to be."

Blushing, yet with a hopeful spark in her eyes Yunguo said, "We... we didn't just mess up the result. We messed up the process. Next time... let's change it together."
No one replied, but that was okay.

|s4_title =The End of the Seed’s Journey
|s4_reward =400
|s4_text = Day 193 since leaving Gran’mama’s place.

Yunguo sat by the riverbank, chin resting in both hands, thinking about the last packet of seeds she had planted. They must be blooming by now, and soon there’d be fruit…
Such a shame she couldn’t see them anymore. People always leave. She vaguely understood that.

Yunguo let out a long sigh and counted the Dough and produce in her bag, trying to stay hopeful – if she didn’t eat or drink. Maybe she could last five more days. Still, it felt so cold.
Hugging her knees, she buried her face in her arms and rubbed at her eyes.

Suddenly, everything around her went dark. But Yunguo felt warm, as if she was buried in soil, and it would be nice to just fall asleep like that.

Then she heard the wind.
She heard water flowing.
She heard insects chirping.
She saw an earthworm wriggling beside her, loosening the soil…

Wait, where did that earthworm come from?!
“What’s it like outside? Is it this dark too?”
Yunguo heard her own voice, as if asking someone.
“No, it’s bright out there. Let me loosen the soil a bit so you can get through.”
The earthworm spoke as it wriggled upward, working so hard that Yunguo was moved.
But earthworms can’t talk, can they? They shouldn’t be able to!
“What if it’s too cold outside?”
She heard herself ask again, glancing around the warm, dark soil that surrounded her.
“There’s sunlight! Once you find the sun, it won’t be cold anymore.
As the earthworm happily burrowed its way out, a beam of light broke through the soil into Yunguo’s eyes, dazzling but warm.

{{tx|insert picture}}

Yunguo woke up, still a little dazed from the nap. The river before her shimmered with the hues of the setting sun. Beside her, the phone lit up with a message from
Gran’mama: “What did you eat today?”

Almost without thinking, Yunguo typed “Nothing yet,” but her finger hovered over the send button. After a moment, she deleted it and started over: “Gonna make some congee with apples tonight. Should be yummy.”

Yunguo pulled up a number from her contacts. Gran’mama had once said it belonged to a proper grown-up who’d traveled the universe all alone. “If you ever get stuck, you go ask him.”
“H-Hello… I’m Yunguo, from Zhuxi Mountain. We met when I was little… I’ve… um… I’ve been living by myself for half a year now, and I’ve kinda run out of money…”

She practiced saying it aloud, but the more she thought about it, the more it felt wrong, like she was calling just to be a trouble. “... This is my first time leavin’ Gran’mama… I came out of my own to learn how to grow things… She asked me to visit you first, and maybe get some lickle advice about livin’ on my own.”

After practicing over and over until she was sure she could say it smoothly, Yunguo took a deep breath and dialed the number. To her surprise, it was answered after just one ring.

“H-Hello! Mr. Mobai…”
“Huh? I’m not Mobai. This is Esa…”

{{tx|insert picture}}

“S-Sorry!!!”

Yunguo hung up in a panic, her face turning bright red despite being alone on the unfamiliar Islet.
A moment later, her phone rang again. The caller ID showed “Mr. Mobai”
}}