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Post by Ramelia on Sept 16, 2013 15:57:31 GMT -5
***From The Legend Begins!, in The Great Palace, in Hyrule Castle***
When Ramelia arrived she dropped to her knees and pressed a hand to her aching side. Had she...been shot by an arrow? The guard was quicker than she gave credit for, that was for sure. She seethed again and rose steadily to her feet, and took a look around. The snow continued here, but seemed to be getting heavier. Far off in the distance beyond the edge of the woods she could see the lights in Hyrule Castle glowing off the mist.
She started walking. There weren't many people outside on account of it being late in the evening, so she made sure to be quiet. If the Masked Man had possessed lowly castle guards, there were likely to be more of them under his control out in the townships. She walked slowly pressing her wound, searching ceaselessly. Why had her magic brought her here, of all places? The Twilight Realm had never locked her out before, but stranger things had happened when Fate stepped in.
There was a reason she'd been sent to this particular venue, that she was sure of. She could feel the presence of strong power deep in the woods, but it seemed dormant. She had just stopped briefly when her ears rang, sending her to her knees. A beautiful voice spoke unto her, though if she responded the presence would only repeat itself as if some divine being had made a recording for her ears alone.
"Help me, I am in the Palace..." was repeated again and again, followed by strange words in Hylian... "He ...locked...the Dungeon. ...Courage...Time...Save me...Hero..."
She turned to where the powerful aura beamed in the woods, then back to where the palace stood far off on the horizon. "A hero, hm?"
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Post by Shannon on Sept 16, 2013 18:36:34 GMT -5
Beneath Shannon's powerful wings ran an endless carpet of emerald that gleamed golden in the sunlight. Wind ran through his feathers as he soared high above the forest, the hawk's homeland since his hatching. The sound of rushing air felt beautiful to him; there is a sheer delight in flying he had tried to tell his master of many times but had never quite been able to. It was the one thing Shannon could never get enough of: just to feel and taste the wind in his beak turned all his thought thither. He became his flight— a king in his very own domain. And it was never long after landing that he would again take wing.
Far below ran his master now, fast as the wind beneath Shannon's wings. Shannon could see the green-clad wood elf as he whipped through the tree trunks, his keen sight piercing all, missing nothing. He slipped downwards, passing through the forest canopy to better watch the elf. To help him.
Behind his running master came a grisly rustle and and the sound of creaking joints: tektites. These were a dangerous breed of spider that plagued these woods since years before, terrible arachnid beasts armored with thick, scale-like plates. There were about a dozen of the monsters, their single-set and pitiless, black eyes glinting morbidly in the filtered sunlight.
His master, not entirely graceful— nor overly clumsy— nearly tripped over a root before bounding over a fallen tree trunk. The tektites pounded after him, following him directly into the trap. He thought, speaking to the elf through an intimate connection of their minds. It was something they had been able to do since they befriended one another when the wood-elf had saved him from a horde of similar beasts that had claimed the other members of his clutch.
'Watch out!' he thought at him.
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Link
Heroes of Light
Posts: 9 
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Post by Link on Sept 16, 2013 20:16:50 GMT -5
Link heard Shannon from within the depths of his mind, clear and urgent. ‘One of them is getting close— the big one.’ He quickened his pace. The earth thundered below him as the trees flew by in a haze of green and gold. Sweat ran down his forehead, threatening his sharp eyesight. Already there was a slight sting in his deep brown eyes. As he rushed onward, he could dimly feel the branches tugging on his hooded tunic and pants, and noticed each time his tan skin scratched a thorn but barely felt their bites. From behind him the tektites chittered madly as they bounded after the courageous wood-elf.
In his wide eyes there was a look of stone-set determination. The tektites were increasing in number; and since King Celedan had forbade any open movements to destroy the creatures, Link and the King’s son Ciridan took to it themselves. It had been hard for both Link and Ciridan to make the decision to go against the King, but he had been acting rather… well, odd as of late.
Prince Ciridan accompanied him after Link spoke out against the King of the Kokiri, bringing with him a few stout members of his personal guard to help them. They had been living in the Faron Woods for nearly two moons, always hunting, barely sleeping. Prince Ciridan’s guard were all dead. It was up to them now, and knowing how close they were to the monstrous mother, the scourge of the forest— of their home— Link and Ciridan pushed on tirelessly. It was a land that King Celedan would no longer protect, yet Link felt as his personal destiny to defend.
Strangely, he had also heard a higher power calling to him of late. And there was also the matter of his dreams...
But there was no time to think of that. Link tightened his hands on the hilt of his sword, making ready to unsheathe it the moment the trap was sprung. It would be any moment now and the blade would be singing. Only a dozen or so yards ahead was the first of Ciridan’s snares, traps they had laid out carefully the day before. A few more strides and he could turn his hot wrath cold, and do what he did best.
The moment he entered the clearing, his eyes shot up to Prince Ciridan. At once the wood-elf gave Link a brief nod that he knew from a lifetime of close friendship. They were raised together and now fought together, a bond that practically made them family. When the consent was given, Link loosed his sword with practiced ease and dropped to the ground. Shannon dove down to join in the fray as his awesome battle- cry split the air. It had begun.
And it was over just as quickly as it had started. The snares captured four of them; Link wielded his sword in a skilled frenzy, and the arrows from Ciridan’s bow rained down, claiming half the remaining tektites in mere heartbeats. Each time Ciridan took aim, there was a clean, single-shot kill. With each swing of Link’s blade fell the others, save one: after Shannon blinded one of the monsters, he ripped out its throat. It was finally finished when Ciridan dropped from his perch as Link ran to dispatch the four ensnared tektites.
The Prince reached him just as Link wrenched his sword from the remaining spider’s brain, its foul blood spilling over its many bulbous, black eyes. Its chitters ceased at once. And so Link, exhausted, dug the tip of his sword into the ground, leant upon it, and sighed with relief.
The grey-black clad prince walked slowly towards him, surveying the situation with proud admiration. It was not easily seen in his eyes, but Link recognized it all the same. “Ready to move on?” Ciridan asked.
“I’m ready for a pipe, I can tell you that much,” came his reply, breathless but not without his usual witty humor. He pulled it out of his satchel, packed it to the brim, sparked up, and inhaled deeply. He wiped the blade clean of the nasty- smelling, blue-black blood as he smoked; Ciridan paced about, gathering and cleaning his arrows. His quiver re-filled, he went to join his friend and sat with him on the ground, smoking contentedly. It was then that they noticed Shannon had left.
Both wood-elves looked to the sky with they heard Shannon’s screeching. It wasn’t far off.
‘Link!’ he heard the bird think. ‘Quickly, to me! There's someone here! They're hurt!’
“What is it?” asked Prince Ciridan.
“Let’s move. Shannon’s got something.” He was off at once, sheathing his sword as he ran.
Without a word, Ciridan followed immediately, and the hunters were off on another quest.
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Post by Ciridan on Sept 17, 2013 19:05:56 GMT -5
As the two wood elves recuperated from their bout with the vicious spiders, the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees. It painted the sky with a pallet of oranges, reds, and purples. It was indeed a magnetic site. Ciridan, having collected what arrows he could, ventured over to his friend, who sat crossed-legged next to his last kill.
He studied Link. His friend was puffing on his old trusted pipe and cleaning his sword. Though things seemed to be calm and quiet, the young prince felt a certain darkness, a certain dread, fall over his heart.
He took a moment to take in this evil that threatened him. At first he noticed it was far too quiet, and it was unnaturally cold for this time of year. Before he could ask his friend if he felt it as well, his thoughts were broken by the shriek of Shannon, Links trusted Hawk.
Within that same instant, Link sprang to his feet sword in hand, pipe in mouth. Tendrils of blue-gray smoke lifted softly and silently into the dying light.
"Come!" Link urged as he took flight towards the direction of his hawk, in the direction of this new danger... where Ciridan knew the evil that tugged at his heart awaited. Without a word, the young prince followed, his fingers already itching for battle.
The two wood elves ran through the thick of this dense forest, it's branches and thorns tugging at their clothes. Their blood was once again boiling, their hearts pounding in their chests. The only thoughts that raced through the young prince's mind was he hoped it wasn't one of the children that were reported to be missing. He had heard if these rumors several weeks ago.
To the sadness of his heart, his father waved off these reports with a deaf ear, saying, 'children go missing from time to time.' But, Ciridan knew his father had been acting strange for some time now. He wasn't himself. So the young prince vowed that he would take up this charge himself and find these missing children.
Before he even had a chance to begin his quest, Link had come and spoke out against father about the attacks of the spiders. So here he was now, running through the forest towards a new threat.
He prayed to the goddesses that it wasn't one of the children.
As Link and Ciridan came to the end of the tree line, white flakes began to fall. One, two, three, and then it was all around him. He stopped abruptly. His breath, hung in the air, in rapid puffs. He looked around in astonishment, in awe. The temperature had dropped drastically; it was already numbing.
'How is this possible?' he thought. Link then appeared at his side. For a moment, he didn't take notice to the falling snow. Then it hit him. He too was looking at the snow as if he had never seen it before.
"Snow? In summer?" Link asked, though it was more to himself than to his prince. Shannon's call once more filled the empty sky. Now that the sun was almost gone, day had almost given itself to night.
Link put a hand on Ciridan's shoulder. The two looked at each other, their eyes locked and searching. No words were needed to be spoken, and with that, they took flight once more towards their destiny.
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Post by Ramelia on Sept 18, 2013 7:13:43 GMT -5
This cold was nothing like the dead winters even the Twilight Realm had suffered from time to time in ages past, and as Ramelia sunk low to the ground, huddling the side of a stone well, she knew it might very well be her last. The arrow still embedded in her flesh, she was vulnerable; no amount of magic prepared the sorceress for this sort of injury, and she felt this terrible mistake would cost her her very long life.
With numb fingers, Ramelia bit her lip and took a firm hold on the arrow, grabbing it as tightly as she could given the circumstances, and pulled with all her might. The bolt wouldn't budge.
"Damn," she hissed, slamming a fist against the wall. She peered around in an attempt to locate the nearest building before her vision faded and instead heard an earsplitting shriek from the woods, a sparrow's call...was it a sparrow? No...a hunting bird...
Crawling on her hands and knees--how low for a Court Sorcerer, she thought--she wriggled in a rush to her great escape. If that was a hunting bird, then following him would be hunters...and only the Goddesses knew who the Wizard had now under his control.
When she heard rustling near the treeline she braced herself, holding an arm over her mouth as she crouched so her bleeding coughs wouldn't emit a sound, and began watching. Whomever they were, they would not kill the Twili Sorceress tonight...not here, not in the cold...
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Link
Heroes of Light
Posts: 9
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Post by Link on Sept 19, 2013 18:25:47 GMT -5
The wind howled in the young elf's ears and the snow bit his nose, numbing his face. There had been snow here in the south before, but none like this. Link was torn between confusion and wonderment, lost in the terror and beauty of this sudden, fierce onslaught of ice, wind, and snow. Ciridan had pulled a mask up over the lower part of his face, shielding it from the harsh blizzard. Link had raised his hood. With each step the two Kokiri took, the temperature seemed to become colder and the storm more fierce.
Ahead of them was a small clearing just before Saria Village. The two hunters had been in the little town not a week before to gather provisions. A horde of treasure buried deep in the bole of a massive tree, locked in a dirty chest covered with dust from ages past, had provided them with the rupees they needed— over two hundred. It was obvious that the treasure was long-forgotten; the skeleton of a dead man was guarding it, one of it's arms drooped nonchalantly over it. Before opening the chest, Link made sure to thank the dead man, and promised that his bounty would be used well.
Now, as they made their way closer, Link cursed under his breath. The storm had all but blotted the small area out, rendering his sight nearly useless. Once again, he had to trust in Shannon's keen eyes to warn him of impending danger. He flashed the thought up to the bird, who had circled back to let them follow.
'Over here!! Look!!' came the voice of Shannon in the wood-elf's thought.
'I can't see a thing in this storm!' he said, and then asked the bird: 'Is it a friend to our forest?'
The hawk was uncertain. 'Does it matter? They're hurt,' he said. 'Badly.'
Link knew the bird was right. Strengthening his resolve, he kept his eyes fixed on the opening into the clearing. Another few steps and they would cross its threshold. He put his arm out to stop Ciridan and nodded ahead, motioning him to cover the area from a nearby tree.
The young prince nodded in understanding and crept as quickly as he could to the tree closest to the clearing. He sprang nimbly up its trunk and onto a thick branch as Link squeezed and rubbed his hands around the hilt of his sword. It was a habit he had since his training days. He was hid behind a low hillock that protected him from unwanted eyes. As his hands rubbed the leather grip, he felt his nerves settle, allowing his thoughts to flow more easily. He was ready.
Nodding up to Prince Ciridan, he stepped up over the hill and into the lawn. Here the snowfall was heavier, whipping around him in freezing drafts, slowing his movements. It was as if an ice age was blowing over the forest, blanketing all in white. The sun had nearly vanished behind the tall trees behind him, reducing visibility all the more.
Directly in front of him was the form of a woman, slumped against a stone wall on the far side of what he knew to be the main path into the village, a road they knew well. The stone wall protected carriages from toppling over into the stream that ran along the lane, a branch of the great Korinah River, the life blood of Faron Woods. 'It must be frozen over now, what with this unearthly cold,' he thought bitterly.
Yelling to his companion as he rushed over, Link could see a swath of crimson leading up to where she sat. He arrived first, gently moving her head to one side and checking her pulse as Ciridan came to a sitting halt beside him. Shannon landed on the stone wall, shook his head, and flew off to a nearby tree.
"She's alive," Link said to the prince.
"She's a Twii," was his reply.
"I don't give a damn if she's the spawn of Ganon," he said. "We're taking her to safety." Link stood, holding Ciridan's gaze with unwavering eyes.
"I was just saying," he said, pulling his scarf down and rubbing his flushed cheeks with his hand. "Where do we bring her?"
Link tugged and scratched at his long, pointed ear. "We can start at the inn up the road."
"Good enough for me," said the elfin prince. "I haven't had an ale in a week."
"Neither have I." They looked at each other a moment, smiled, and then together hefted her unconscious form up over Link's shoulders. Bending their heads against the storm, the two started off towards the inn.
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Post by Ramelia on Sept 22, 2013 9:18:21 GMT -5
It was as if the world began spiraling, and she was the center of it all. Her vision spun and spun until her eyes couldn't handle any more and she slumped into the most comfortable position possible; blood soaked the nearby snow with every inch that built up, and she could feel the chill setting in.
Ramelia slowly began losing consciousness. If her fate were to be taken by an arrow, at this point she accepted it. She could feel only pain and sleepiness...the snow did that to people. She slowed her breathing. At one point she felt a sudden jerk and was hoisted from the ground, being carried by some angelic presence. She pried her eyes open best as she could, but her vision was blurry. From what she could tell there were at least two people...and chivalry was thought to have been dead! She winced and grabbed onto the cloth of the one carrying her, clenching tightly in thanks, in lieu of speaking. She wasn't sure she'd be able to even if she tried, anyway.
"Mm.her...Pal...ce..." she murmured, but to little avail. When they arrived at the inn and the door opened she recoiled, shielding her eyes from the bright light within.
"Boys, what in Hyrule are you doing out so late in the storm?!" cried the innkeeper, a portly, homely older lady. "You'll catch your death in these times," she said. "What's this..? Is she alive?" now she indicated the dying Twili with the end of her pipe. "She don't look it...come on in, we'll check her out. This better not have been another of your hunting accidents again, Link."
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Post by Ciridan on Sept 26, 2013 4:49:10 GMT -5
Ciridan kicked the door into the tavern, the cold snow and frigid air of the storm following after him, claiming dominance over the warm comfort of the inn. Link followed, the inert form of the Twii sorceress held fast against his breast, her head lolling. Everyone inside turned and gaped.
"Where is Ehlcion!" the princr exclaimed, his voice thundering through the air.
For a moment the patrons of the inn did not say a word, just stared wide- eyed at the the young prince. Blood rushed to his cheeks; he felt the embarrassment at once.
"Where is Ehlcion!" The prince said once again. This time he received a response. A small, wizened old elf stood up.
His back bent slightly with age, his skin was pale and cracked. His hair, what remained of it, was pure white. The top of his head was bald and his pure white hair stuck out on the sides. He was plainly a mad scientist.
"I am Ehclion, Potion Master, my prince. At your service." The old man bowed.
Ciridan's cheeks flushed red once more. Murmurs filled the inn now: Ciridan heard his name, he heard others whisper his fathers name— 'the mad king,' they were saying— and all had words concerning 'the witch' they had brought with them.
Ciridan's hands balled into fists, his frustration a tired mask on his flushed, angular face. He pushed these foolish peoples' thoughts aside and waved the old potion master over.
"To me, Ehlcion! For verily am I in dire need of your service."
As if the old elf could not see that the woman in Link's arms was on the verge of death, he took slow steady walks. The wood-elf beside Prince Ciridan was covered in a melting frost of snow, but the potion master noticed the scarlet color beneath the snow on his tunic. A puddle of water lay at their feet, staining the blonde wooden floor a dark brown.
Ehlcion nodded at Ciridan and went up to Link. He gave the wood elf a half smile and examined the young woman's wound. He shook his head in distaste.
"Not good, not good at all." The potion master said in a quivering voice. Link rolled his eyes.
"Can you help her?" Link asked, setting her down on a table.
Ehlcion nodded. "Come with me boy, come with me."
The old man moved with lackadaisical speed. At once, the two elven hunters started to follow, but before Ciridan took another step, Link turned and shook his head, glancing over at the woman and then back to the throng of villagers. Droplets of meted snow fell from his hood, joining the puddle of melt-water below.
"These wounds are beyond my skill to heal," said Echlion. "The only thing that can save her now is a fairy. But, I'm afraid with this foul weather, the odds of finding one is grim. The fountain—"
"Is less than a mile to the north, along the river. I'll leave at once," Link replied.
"But, master, the storm—"
"Is only air and water. I'll be fine."
A curious look fell on the young prince's face, his left eyebrow raised. "Link, the potions master is right. Even if you make it, the fountain will have frozen over. No fairies will come to you this night."
"I'll be fine," he repeated. "Stay here; have an ale for me, friend. Watch over her. I'll send Shannon if there's any real trouble. Rest easy by the fire," said the brave, young wood-elf. Then he turned and sped out the doors.
Ciridan stared after his friend as he walked out into the storm. Within minutes, Link was gone, swallowed up by the swirling clouds of white. The young prince felt alone. He could feel the eyes of the patrons burning into his back, cursing his every move.
He took in a deep breath, let irony grip him slowly, and then went to grab an ale.
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Link
Heroes of Light
Posts: 9
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Post by Link on Oct 6, 2013 11:51:49 GMT -5
Onward pushed Link, through waist-high snowdrifts and seemingly level pitfalls, one of his ankles painful and swollen, his kneecaps aching to the pits of the bone. The piercing cold buffeted his body, numbing his face. He could barely see through the intense swirl of white; all about him the snow fell thickly, whipping around in a torrent of dead leaves now falling. The wood-elf knew he was approaching the Fairy Fountain, the last one in the northern reaches of Kokiri Forest. The old footpath wound between trees and low hills, and above was a glowing, scarlet-pink sky that shone down faintly through the withering treetops.
Shannon flitted from tree to tree, hiding as much as he could from the storm, riding the wind in graceful swoops. Bounding through the last steps of the path and over a piled rock wall, Link’s heart sank when he entered the clearing. Here was the fairy lake, but it was iced over and covered in several feet of snow. One wouldn’t know what it was without ever having seen it, so drastic was the difference. He had been here many times before, speaking with the fairies and fishing in a nearby creek with their consent. Usually there were dozens upon dozens of the flying nymphs, in colors of pink, red, blue, green, and gold.
There were none to be seen.
Cursing under his breath, he took a moment to remember the place as it was before this strange storm had descended upon his home. The lights of the fairies at twilight lit all the clearing and surrounding woods with a phosphorescent aura, the tree trunks and leaves shining in the basking brightness. Link’s face was grim; he promised to himself that whoever was responsible for this treachery— be it the sages, moblins, or wizards— would have some explaining to do when he met them face-to-face. He felt afraid but controlled it, swallowing hard and mustering his courage.
'Where are the goddesses now?’ the young elf thought. ‘Before the Triforce, I hope they'll help me somehow.’
He knew what he had to do, but also knew that it was incredibly foolish… and dangerous. But he knew that it must be done. Without even the smallest of sacrifice here, the woman waiting for him at the inn would die. There was no choice— but still he stood, waiting for his courage to well up within his heart, pinching his earlobe and fiddling with his wet hair.
Unsheathing his sword, he breathed in deeply, barely noticing the sting in his nostrils when the ice-cold snow flew in.
He took a few tentative steps out onto the ice; there was no sound except the wind and the falling of snow upon the tree leaves. Glancing around, Link spied Shannon: he had moved closer inward towards the Fountain and was eagerly watching his master’s progress. The wood-elf took a few more circumspect paces, finally able to move on confidently when there was no sound of breaking ice.
Hoping his luck would hold, Link walked out into the middle of the lake. There was no turning back now. Knowing this, he raised his sword into the air and met it with the ice point- down. Nothing.
Once again he plunged the blade into the white sheet underfoot, the snow melting and running down into his boots. This time the sword rang and the ice cracked, creaking loudly enough to be heard over the howling wind. He gripped his sword hilt tightly, flexing his grip upon the rubber handle. For a third time the blade ripped downwards; the ice broke with a deafening CRACK!
The next thing he knew, he lost his footing as the sheet opened up around him, the lake instantly swallowing him whole. His eyes darted frantically amidst an eerie glow, and Link looked out upon what he thought would be the last thing he ever saw. Lights in the dark, floating around haphazardly, flew like stars in his eyes with reckless abandon. Cold upon cold gripped his limbs, the freezing water penetrating his body, blinding him.
‘Maybe the lights are cold, too. That’s why they’re swimming.’
He gave a twitching jerk, fighting his way to the surface— and failing. He thought bitterly that he should have removed his gear before walking out. He thought he saw a face before him, mirthful but sad. 'Now, isn't that odd?' he thought.
And then, darkness.
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Post by Shannon on Oct 6, 2013 11:55:30 GMT -5
The hawk watched from his perch with horror as his master fell under the ice. Water splashed up around him as he fell, slowly soaking the snow as it sank beneath the surface, and Link with it. Chunks of ice broke off, bobbing slightly with the commotion on the water’s surface. Slight ripples emanated outward, the glow from the sky reflecting in the trough of each wave. Even as these things happened the snow within the clearing seemed to let up while its fury rose outside the neat circle of trees surrounding the fountain.
Shannon shrieked, his cry piercing the air like burning iron.
Then, strangely, the lake itself started to glow: mesmerizing shades of different colors flashed from under the ice, stabbing upwards in slanting shafts of rayed brilliance. The snow, gently illuminated against the radiance underneath, fell quietly here, and when coupled with the light, it beheld a certain majesty. Again the hawk screeched; he could hear Link’s thoughts as he fell, a confusing barrage of wordless pain, dire sadness, pure joy, and heartfelt comfort that conflicted pleasantly with one another.
As the raptor’s alarmed scream filled the clearing, it was joined by a cacophony of sound. It was as if the lake had become alive, its voice like viols singing with harps and flutes that lilted among the choirs of the Sacred Realm itself. The light joined with the music, flashing in tandem with each theme, its sound alone reassuring Shannon that everything would be okay.
Without warning, several of the lights broke the water’s surface, and out of the Fountain came many fairies bearing his master from all around without so much as a single touch. Their magic was saving him; when the waterlogged elf rose into the air, the water, instead of freezing instantly, seemed to evaporate from his body. They floated him all the way to the Fountain’s edge over by the line of trees that circled the place. Shannon flew over as quickly as possible; as he took to the wing, he saw the fairies swirling around Link, his body aglow with heavenly light.
The hawk landed on a branch, looked down at his master, who was now on his feet— unconscious but breathing— once again, and was glad. One of the fairies zipped up to his branch; Shannon tensed but did not move, so relieved and indebted was he to the pint-sized creature before him. It spoke to him in a whisper within his mind, much as he did with Link when they communicated. Its voice was soft and high-pitched, much like the laughter of a small child. All other thoughts left the bird’s mind.
“For this bravery,” it spoke to him, “there are no fitting words of thanks. Our doom was at hand and your master saved us all. In return we have done the same and promise to aid him in whatever need he may meet in his journeys. And as for you, brave and noble bird, we promise you the same, and will aid you in wisdom so that you may better serve your friend.”
The hawk cooed in understanding thanks, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He moved closer to the fairy and felt its warm glow seep into the downy feathers on his brow. His eyes were filled with a reddish glow: he instantly felt renewed; stronger… he felt old and wise, but with a bright, young fire in his heart.
Opening his golden eyes, Shannon saw the fairy’s face as clear as the sun on a summer day. It was smiling.
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Link
Heroes of Light
Posts: 9
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Post by Link on Oct 6, 2013 12:02:35 GMT -5
In the blink of an eye, Link was out of the water and on his feet. Swirling lights blazed around him, illuminating all around him with a fierce haze. The snowfall spiraled around the halo, spinning down to the ground in gentle arcs.
‘What in the Blessed Realm happening?’ he thought.
Through the fog he could see the tiny forms of the fairies as they flew around him in a frenzy, tiny trails of light sparkling in their wake. “We are honoring our debt; making amends for your sacrifice. You saved us; now we are saving you,” Link heard. One of the fairies was speaking. Their life energy revitalized his limbs as they flew in wide circles about his form, and the small voice encouraged his heart with comforting thoughts. “But we ask of you to do at every fountain you come across the same thing you have done for us: free them if they are trapped. Bring them home if they are lost. In just payment, we will honor this covenant for as long as you live.”
Then the fairy came face to face with the young elf. Link nodded, his stoic face alight; alive again.
His clothing and tunic were dryer than they had been even before his arrival at the inn, and there was a strength and vigor in his body such as he had never felt before. Yet for all these wonders, there was still another thing to ask of the fairy: something he felt would be easier said than done.
Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for whatever answer would come, he asked the fairy for the biggest favor anyone could ever dream of.
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Post by Ciridan on Oct 28, 2013 16:45:55 GMT -5
The air in the tavern was hot and smelled of stale ale. It was abnormally quiet for this tavern— or any tavern, for that matter. If Ciridan were to try, he would be able to hear a pin drop. He could feel the anger, could feel the dark stares burning into him. He still heard the whispers of his father’s name. Now he heard them talking of the freak storm and of the red haired witch in the back room: tension was high in the old, stuffed tavern, and Cirdan felt something could go wrong at any moment.
The prince sat in a wooden chair holding a fresh mug of ale. On the small table to the right of him was a plate of food, untouched and cold. He sat in front of the door where the mysterious red haired woman lay dying. Beyond the closed door was the potions master, doing whatever he could to keep her alive while Link was off doing what he could to find her only hope... a fairy.
Ciridan did not doubt his oldest friend, but, in this storm? The chances were slim. However, he wasn't going to concentrate on the negative, though, or Link's situation… he needed to concentrate on the here and now. If Ciridan were distracted while the townsfolk were on edge like this, it could turn out to be very bad for him. Very, very bad.
'It probably doesn't help that I'm on my third ale, either,' thought the young prince. He placed the mug on the table and stared at the plate of food, what looked to be some sort of meat with mash potatoes, all lathered with a thick brown gravy, and bread on the side. His stomach rumbled. He licked his lips and began to eat. He didn’t get more than a single bite in.
Before the young prince could even taste the food, a bald, barrel- chested man came up to Ciridan and knocked the plate out of his hands. The plate shattered on the ale stained tavern floor with a loud crash. Food and shards of clay went everywhere. There were a few who screamed in shock, but all of the others, mainly the rest of the rambunctious patrons, yelled in approval.
One foolish soul cried out, "Show him we aren't afraid of the Mad King! Or his sorry excuse for a son!"
There followed raucous approval from the crazed patrons. Ciridan couldn't see who had said that— nor did he care: his focus was on the brute that stood before him. He guessed that the man before him was the town’s blacksmith. He also guessed he stood at about six foot five. The man’s chest and arms were twice the size of Ciridan’s head. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"Let me pass, princeling." The blacksmith ordered. Ciridan shook his head and looked at him hard, dead in the eyes. "I have no intention of hurting you," the blacksmith said as he drew a hammer out from his belt. "But, here, if you don’t step aside…" The hammer rose and fell, rose and fell in his giant meaty hand. *SMACK...SMACK...SMACK! *
There was no need for a further explanation on what this brute of a man was saying.
Ciridan shook his head again as if unfazed. "You shall not pass, friend." Ciridan stared at him and locked his gaze with stony determination. "She is not to be harmed under my care." The young prince then spoke louder for all to hear. "No one is to touch a hair on her head, or the penalty is death... by execution."
"She's a witch!" Someone called out. "We must burn her! Then this storm will vanish!"
“Burn her!” many of them cried out as one. “Burn her!”
Another said, "The Mad King’s son is a witch-lover! Burn him with her!"
More and more began to lash out. Ciridan felt his anger begin to boil— his hands balled into fists. He wanted to kill them all; and what more, he knew he could do it, too. He slowly reached for a throwing knife that lay strapped across his chest.
Then he felt a gentle hand on his arm, and a gentle voice. It was clear and even, heard easily over the commotion. "Be easy, my dear townsfolk." It was the potion master. Ciridan gave him credit for his bravery. The crowd actually listened and quieted down. "Do not be hasty or rash with your words. I know you are scared of what is happening, but we cannot abandon one another; we must aid each other as however we can, and give whatever help we can afford to our Prince and his brave friend who ventured out in this storm to get the most needed help.”
"Help for the evil witch!” one of the patrons shouted. “If she’s healed she will turn us all into toads, or worse!"
Elchion smiled at this and waved an old, crooked hand.
"She is no more an evil witch than I am the King of Hyrule." It seemed that what the potion master was saying was calming them down, and made Ciridan at ease as well.
"Now please, have some more ale and be merry. This round is on me!" The statement brought great cheer and thanks. Elchion padded the young prince on the arm and gave him a warm smile, and Ciridan smiled back easily.
As Elchion was leaving to walk back into the little room behind them, Ciridan stopped him. "How is she doing?" he asked.
The old poison master shook is head. "Not good, milord, not good. If your brave friend does not return soon, I'm afraid she will die. And we need answers to what's going on here; I believe she can tell us."
Before Ciridan could respond, the blacksmith roared with anger. His booming voice seemed to shake the floor. "She is a witch!" Spit flew from his mouth and the hammer was raised. “And I’ll be damned if—”
He never finished. With liquid speed, Ciridan threw two of his knives and they pinned the blacksmith’s arm to the pillar behind him. Two of his cohorts stood up, their daggers pulled from their sheaths, and advanced on Ciridan. Then, suddenly with a great howl, the door of the tavern opened. Snow and cold blew in; the two drunken elves stopped and turned.
A sound pierced the hubbub of confusion.
*TWANG! TWANG!*
Shrieks of pain racked the air, burning like cold iron. The elves’ daggers clattered to the ground, and they were now nursing their bleeding hands, cursing under their breath. The blacksmith was able to pull the daggers from his shirt, freeing him, and he was on the move. There was another *TWANG*— now it was the blacksmith that screamed in pain. His hammer fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
"Move again, friend, and this one will go into your eye," Link said from the doorway, his slingshot in hand. He was nearly covered all in white, head to toe with snowflakes. Steam rose from his clothes, and his skin seemed flushed. A Deku Seed sat pinched in the sling, ready to be unloaded. "Do not temp me.”
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Link
Heroes of Light
Posts: 9
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Post by Link on Oct 28, 2013 17:09:49 GMT -5
Link trudged through the snow-swept streets towards the inn where Ciridan, Echlion, and the Twii woman awaited his arrival. In a glass jar held loosely in his hand was a fairy, glowing red, illuminating the path before him in a ghastly scarlet. The boot prints he left on the way out were once again covered in by snow, but he knew the town, and knew the inn. It was a beacon of warm light up ahead, but he sensed there was something fundamentally wrong about it all: the shouts of laughter and joy were now replaced by something a bit more sinister. He feared Ciridan might be in danger.
Not that his old friend couldn’t handle himself; he knew well he could. Link was honestly worried that the woodland prince might do something he might regret later. He’d seen Ciridan in a fight before— one on this very afternoon, in a world that seemed far away and distant to the one he was in now. It had been chilly in the afternoon compared to how it normally was, but nothing compared to this. The very breath of the air had been stolen away and been replaced with ice. It hurt to breathe, to see, to even think of anything besides the bitter cold. It was unnatural, he thought, but not final. He knew there was something he could do to help it… or maybe even stop it completely.
The wood elf crept up to a window and looked into the tavern. Ciridan stood face to face with a lump of a man, who towered over him by a full head and a half. The prince seemed unafraid. Echlion, the old potions master was speaking to him on the side, conversing with him in hushed tones. He could almost read their lips, but had no trouble reading their emotions. What they were saying did not appear to be good. And judging by the menacing look on the man’s face, what they wanted to do seemed to hang on the edge of a knife.
He saw the man rearing as if to pummel his lifelong friend, and reacted without thinking. As he rushed inside, he saw some of the prince’s handiwork: before the brute could do anything besides raise an arm, it was pinned to a wooden column behind him, stapled there by two of Prince Ciridan’s throwing knives. Setting the glass jar down just outside the door, Link acted, but before he could even open the doors, he heard two others spring to their feet, unsheathing their own weapons.
Rushing in, Link assessed the situation with lightning speed. 'Three assailants. Two armed, one disabled… at least for now.'
First, he would have to disarm the remaining two, robbing them of their advantage in numbers. Next he would have to deal with the other one, the big guy, who would no doubt free himself the instant he was able to. After that, he would have to play it by ear. He moved.
Without a thought, Link reached into his bullet bag and pulled out two of his trusty Deku seeds, hard as Hylian steel. Aiming with practiced ease, he let the first bullet fly, followed immediately by the second. The air was filled with their screams; Step One was complete. ‘Now for Step Two,’ he thought. As the brutish figure closest to Ciridan pulled his arm free, he stooped to pick up a blacksmith’s hammer that lay on the floor beside him. Link pulled another seed out and loaded into the slingshot, letting it loose on the fly; it hit square on target: the blacksmith dropped his hammer and cradled his hand like the other two.
“Move again, friend, and this one will go into your eye,” he said, mustering all his courage and taking aim once again. “Do not tempt me.”
Before he could say another word, or before the blacksmith could react any more, a huge rock smashed against the wall mere inches from Link’s head. From beside the bar loomed a figure, if possible, three heads taller than the blacksmith, and twice as wide. There was now a hole in the wall where the rock had passed through; ice- cold wind whistled through, blowing Link’s wet hair around wildly. His round, brown eyes widened with fear as he sized the man up. There was another rock in his hand; where he was getting them, Link hadn’t the faintest idea.
“Stay where you are,” the giant said, his low voice oddly modulated, as if it were coming from underwater. “I didn’t have to miss.”
“I believe you,” said the wood elf without lowering the slingshot. He feared that if he were to move even a muscle, his head would be turned to mush. “What do you propose, then?”
“We face each other like the goddesses intended,” said the giant simply. “Skill against skill alone.”
“You mean, I’ll put down my slingshot, you’ll put down your rock, and we'll kill each other like civilized men?” he asked.
“I could kill you now...”. The giant raised the rock above his head and cocked an eyebrow. Shadows danced behind him like monsters in the candlelight from the lanterns placed all around the bar. Suddenly the wood elf could smell the dampness on his own clothes, the sweat on his face, the pungent stench of old liquor that stained everything. He knew there was no choice.
“I see your point,” Link said. In tandem, he and the giant lowered their weapons; but suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw Ciridan in a flash of movement; a huge urn tumbled from where he stood, and Ciridan followed close behind, slamming into the giant’s face with a jump-kick.
Then, many things happened at once. The blacksmith and two assailants went for their weapons as Link and Ciridan moved to intercept. In a glorious display of raging fists and flying feet, the two companions made short work of them all. In moments, other patrons rose to their feet to try and go after the travellers, but every advance was thwarted deftly, the elves’ movements seemingly choreographed in ideographic stages of lethality. Echlion looked on in disbelief. Shrieks and shouts of pain rent the air as person after person fell before them; they seemed to be haloed with an unnatural, sacred light that would not allow any harm to befall either of the two.
Soon enough, it was all over, and the commotion of the brawl was replaced with moans and wails of pained struggle as the townsfolk got to their feet. “Draw swords,” Ciridan said. “We don’t have time for this.”
The two friends pulled their weapons from their holders and moved cautiously backwards, casting furtive glances all around, scanning the room for any movement.
“Milord is right,” said Echlion. “She’s fading.”
“Not for long,” Link said. He sped to the doorway and leaned outside; he bent back in, holding a glass jar that glowed red in against the dim light of the barroom.
“Naryu’s Love,” said the old potions master, his voice rich with obvious reverence. “You did it!”
“And damn near died in the process. That’s the only reason she came with me. And repayment is still in order; but that’s not important. The sorceress,” Link said, his voice now urgent. “Where is she?”
“This way!” said Echlion, turning on his heel and darting into the room behind them.
Link glanced at Ciridan. “I’ll get the door,” said the prince. “After you, old friend.” They smiled, glad to be reunited, each of them thinking they were unstoppable.
“Thankee,” said Link.
“No,” said the prince, grabbing his friend’s arm, halting him long enough to lock eyes. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he replied. “It was fun...”.
Ciridan laughed and shut the door behind him, standing vigil there. He sheathed his sword and unslung his bow from behind, drawing an arrow and fitting it to the weapon, pulling the line taught. It creaked with tension; the blacksmith stirred, looking up at the prince with renewed awe. “Bow before me, and you will receive my pardon,” said Ciridan. “Do it not, and you are banished forthwith, until the end of your days.” The big man grumbled and lift his hefty form from the floor. “What say you!?!?” cried the prince.
To his astonishment, the blacksmith rose to one knee and bowed his head. As the rest of the bar crowd awoke, they followed suit. Ciridan kept his finger on the arrow, waiting. “Then behold the work of your goddesses,” he said, and opened the door for all to see beyond it.
There, on the table lay the Twii sorceress. Link and Echlion stood to either side, watching with somber eyes, their faces drawn. Hovering between them, over the red-haired woman, was a winged ball of light: the fairy. For a moment, the red haze around her blazed brilliantly, lighting the room in a dazzling shade of pink. The fairy descended upon her, placing a tiny hand over the woman’s heart. Her light grew brighter and brighter still, and then she began to zoom around her, trailing white- gold sparks in her wake.
The sorceress raised a few inches off the table, her back arched, her feet and arms dangling. Then she drew breath, and as the crowd watched in amazement, her eyes shot open and she began coughing. She lived again… but at a great cost.
Link would never forget the look in the fairy’s eyes in her final moments of being. Those eyes were filled with a love so pure and unremitting that tears welled in his own. There was no regret: only, if he saw correctly, gratitude and great purpose. Featherlike, the fairy floated down and landed on the woman’s chest, laid her head on her tiny, slender arms, and passed on to only the goddesses know where. Outside, the crowed was completely silent once again, marveling at the sight: if the fairy had accepted this sorceress, then they would, too. All malcontempt vanished from the room, ushering in great respect for the two travellers. They believed in their goodness, and would now help them, no matter what the cost. Looking into the brown-haired elf’s eyes, they saw courage and a purity of heart they had seen in no other. He was the one they had been waiting for— the one to solve the problem of their missing children. His companion was fitting, standing there at the door noble and true, a living memory of times long past.
Through Link’s eyes, though, there was only sadness to be seen, a great tragedy unfolding in the world that he knew had to be met with all the strength in his heart. But he felt little comfort in the thought, in the face of such death. The storm howled on outside, and while it seemed to have lessened a bit, the rafters still sang in the torrent of wind, and the shutters still banged away in the windows. The woman coughed, heaving in lungfuls of air with seeming difficulty while Echlion tended her gently, whispering incantations in her ear and ladling spoonfuls of water into her mouth, cradling her head in his old hands. Link looked down at the fairy, and found respite from all these tired thoughts: on her face was a look of complete peace.
She looked as if she were sleeping.
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