Kakariko Village, a small Village in the Eldin Province under Hylian Rule. Their main purpose was to act as a trading route between the Kingdom of Hyrule and the Goron, making use of the lucrative mining of the people in the mountains.
In recent years since the cataclysm, trade has dried up between the Goron and the Hylians, as they disapprove of Hyrule's recent agressions toward their neighbors.
Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2014 7:28 pm
Siras was still smiling, even though the battle had finished over an hour ago. The rush was like no other, battling against the forces of darkness, just like Ordon had instructed. Now, Siras was riding around the border of the village on Orion, his steed, just in case. Siras leaned forward and patted the neck of the black stallion with a smile, "Calm down." He whispered, "Those Moblin are long gone." He reassured, and Orion nickered and pawed at the ground.
It was surprising that the Moblin would come out this close to Goron Territory in force, to do so would invite their wrath. Siras' eyes narrowed as he looked out across the dusty plains. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, and he doubted they'd return after the village had run the warband out of town.
Good. Now that that was over with, he could take care of the reason he came into Kakariko Village to begin with. The spring where the village's drinking water came from. There was something special about it, and he wanted to see if his suspicions were true. By the time he had ridden back, the sun had turned the horizon a deep orange, fading into a deep purple. Steadily, Siras dismounted at the coast of the spring.
There was an odd calm about the waters, as if all darkness was pushed away from this select spot, where tranquility and safety would reign. He could practically hear a melody in the air... Wait. There was a melody. He raised his eyebrows and looked down to where it was coming from. His waist! He pulled his sword and scabbard from his belt and pulled it slightly from the hilt, and a radiant gold was there to meet him rather than the look of cold steel.
There was no mistaking it, this place was a font of light energy. Good news too, much of the energy within his sword had been drained in his fight with the Moblin attackers. Siras fully unsheathed his blade and sat at the shore, dipping the blade into the water. The brightness increased, becoming a brilliant hue before fading back into a glimmering grey. "Good..." He said to himself. "That answers one question... Now there are a bunch more."
He reflected. There's the Moblin Attacks, the Goron's withdrawn attitude toward Kakariko, and then that Hylian boy, Ramali. Something was off about him, and it wasn't just the magic. Why would some Hylian be out here? Of course, why would some Ordonian be out here? He chuckled to himself quietly. Siras guessed that all he could do was wait, not something he did well. These mysteries might bring a lot more weirdness to his life, that was for sure.
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TwiDawnLight
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Posted: Sat Nov 08, 2014 10:48 pm
Ramali
Half an hour later he was still feeling the buzz in his veins.
It was not the first time Ramali had run into some creature or other on his journey, but Moblins. Mother had told her tales and then some, and later on she had dared to crack open the tomes that held what little research any scholar was willing to put in on the wretched creatures but... Moblins.
Moblins, a bipedal species with at least rudimentary intelligence. They are capable of feats of tracking, planning and attacking in an organized manner especially under their recognize 'King'. It is said they are remnants of the old land before...
He had been careful, so very careful in his travels. Every rumor, every scrap of information had been noted and filed away to later be withdrawn and used to meticulously plot his course. Thus far, Goddesses bless, he had been fortunate. And yet they had appeared so suddenly, a shadow on the horizon heralded only by Siras' sharp eye and a twist of fate that must have been ordained by the Three themselves. Had they not been standing at the village entrance, the Moblins would have been upon them before they could rally. But rally they had each and every villager emerging from their homes to arm themselves. Where only the men would ride, the women prepared their arrows, and their children the slings. Their eyes had been bright with fire, a light and passion that he had not seen within the cold stone walls of his home. Ramali had called for Arion with nary a thought spurred on by the strength of their spirit. And for the first time since he had donned his mask he had burned.
Magic was a funny, fickle thing. It was a call to the natural world, a request to bend the laws the Three had given them. But above all, it was a power tempered by the soul. Temper brought power but lack of control, calculation brought grace but lacked power. It took passion and wisdom alike to bring it to heel, to call fire from the heavens and beckon the winds to abandon their wanderings for just a moment and strike. The noblewoman had always tested her limits, pushed her boundaries until she had used up every drop of will and more allowing herself to grow. But she had never known true battle, never felt the terrifying rush or need to fightwinsurvive that beat in the blood long after it had ended. And so, neither had he.
The shaman had stood among them upon their return, and after asking for an audience he had excused himself to find peace of mind in one of the only places he had ever found safe.
The graveyard.
It had been about as animated as one could expect the resting place of the dead to be. Many old spirits had remained -some so long he had feared to ask them- but kept to the edges or completely out of sight preferring the company of their loneliness and regret to the living. Only a soldier had kept her company inviting her to sit at his grave marker in lieu of a table.
'It's not very gentlemanly, but I'm afraid I've nothing else. Besides' he had hummed 'I found that somewhat unconventional seating arrangements sometimes help.'
He had talked with her until the tension drained from her frame and the trembling had left her hands. Risky, perhaps, but the dead have no secrets. She left soon after, wrapping Ramali tightly around her shoulders. And so he found himself here, before the peculiar stone tower the shaman called home. It was rather oddly shaped and he wondered what it had been crafted out of. The curve of the structure was so foreign compared to the strict, rigidly lined structures of the city. But he was only stalling now, wasn't he? And it wouldn't do to be late. He knocked.
"Enter."
The wooden doors groaned beneath their weight but parted with almost startling ease giving way to a large, circular room and the massive owl that resided within.
Ramali's heart leapt in his throat. The bird of prey was more than twice his height, it's talons were long and sharp and with its wings already spread he had no doubt it could spring forward and easily snatch him up before he so much as screamed. Where had the shaman gone? Was he all right? Was this a trick?
(Was this the shaman? And if so by Din was he going to be eaten by a giant wise owl?)
"My, my. I know I've gotten on in my years, but I hadn't thought to elicit such a reaction until I became a spirit myself."
And-
And at the base of the wooden totem with its guardian owl the shaman smiled.
Ramali, the noblewoman, whichever- where certain that they had never blushed so hard in their whole entire life. Ever "I-"
A wrinkled hand waved him down "Be at peace in the knowledge that you are not the first it has happened to- and you most certainly will not be the last."
There was a note of amusement in his voice and that, right there, was that a flash of mischief? If so it was well deserved- never had he been so thoroughly trounced by an inanimate object. Still blushing to the roots of his hair, Ramali walked in letting the weight of the doors carry themselves shut behind him.
There was a window open to let in the waning light, but most of it came from the merry fires around the room. Shadows danced along the walls, playing along the carving's face and only bringing it closer to life than even the daylight. Cast in the light of the fire, its head seemed bowed, its wings a protective embrace upon those who stood below. He stepped forward almost aimlessly, unable to look away.
"It looks so real..."
"Some say it was, once."
Stranger things had happened.
It was good manners that brought him back to the present. The noblewoman had attended the services held at Hyrule's grand temple before and spoken to the priests there. Ramali took her courtesies and bowed, sweeping an arm across his abdomen and bowing his head in respect "Well met wise man- the Three find you in good health."
"Very formal" another flash of quicksilver laughter dancing in that old, old voice "Well met, young traveler. Blessings upon you and your kin. Rise, that I may see the face of such a well spoken young man."
He did as he was asked, his eyes instinctively seeking out his elder's before he finished fully rising.
The shaman was not the young man he had been; streaks of gray wound through his dark hair and time had begun to etch its passage upon his skin. There were lines of laughter, of concern, of fury and sorrow the tapestry of his life wrought as beautifully -perhaps even more so- as those that clung to the stone tower's walls. Not young, no, but not yet so wizened yet. There was still power in his step, a spryness in his manner. Experienced but not immovable- wise.
"Ah the traveler from this morning. Such a solemn countenance" he laughed, a hearty sound that stripped away the age. He smiled before he quite knew he was doing it "Ah much better, not so somber. Come, I've already set out tea and I'll hear no protests. You have come seeking more for a reason- and I suspect a cup should suffice for conversation."
It was with a skilled hand and manner that he brushed off Ramali's earnest attempts to tell him not to work on his behalf. Still, the Hylian appreciated the gesture. They sat at the one stone table, carved from the same rock as the room and the tower. Steam rose slowly from his cup, trailing lazily through the air in front of his eyes. He breathed and disturbed the rippling streams, watching in fascination as they wavered and bent. His mouth felt dry, suddenly, the weight of the wooden cup surreal, the room too small. His heart thudded loudly in his chest and he had to remind himself to breathe.
The shaman waited and at length, Ramali began to speak.
There was nothing. Not light or darkness, not sound or silence. She was standing at the bottom of nothing and she was waiting.
For what? Now wasn't that the question.
Time passed, or at least it felt like it did. She couldn't be quite sure when she was sitting in nothing, but she was positive that some unit of measurement concerning the matter of 'time' occurred whilst she sat waiting. And, rather abruptly, the sun rose on a land that had appeared out of nothing.
She was above her home, in the mountains her parents had once taken her into when she was just a girl. The view from there of the setting sun had been beautiful, a gorgeous array of reds, gold, and oranges fanning across the sky in a tapestry of light and color. Mother and father had stood apart from her, but their presences had remained a reassuring weight at her back.
They were not there now, nor was the sun.
She could not call it a shade, could not call it shadow and could not even call it blackness because none of those were quite so all consuming as this. To even call it darkness did not seem to quite describe it, but it would suffice. It ate everything. Greedily. Relentlessly. Despair heralded its arrival and as it passed it left only death in its wake. It rose up before her, a terrible, gaping maw and she fell to her knees.
And quite suddenly there was a star. Terribly small but bright, beautiful in its resistance. It would pass, she was sure, it would fall.
It wavered.
And then there was another.
And another
And another.
Dozens, and then hundreds of stars burst into existence staving off despair and bringing hope. Batting away death and returning life. She stood in the heart of a star and burned.
And then she woke up.
- -
He stumbled out of the stone tower in a daze. The welcoming gurgle of a spring called and he moved forward on unsteady feet. His head felt too large for his body and he was having difficulty just putting one foot in front of the other, but somehow he managed. He had managed to regain some semblance of normalcy before he stopped at the fountains edge and fell to his knees. The water was cool against his face and it brought him back into his skin where he belonged. He breathed.
"It seems as though you have a job to do."
He didn't know why he felt so out of sorts, he was only being told something he had concluded long, long ago.
So why did it make him feel dizzy and bring a sickening churning to his stomach? Why was it taking the strength out of his legs so it was all he could do just to stay upright? Why? Why? Why?
"What exactly is it I'm supposed to do?"
"Find the lights, I expect."
"There were hundreds, maybe more. How am I supposed to find them? Where am I even supposed to start?"
"You said that at the end of the dream you were burning. Burning in the middle of a star."
"Yes. I did."
"Start with yourself."
Stupid, stupid. Why had that escaped her? Why had that not even seemed to have occurred? Had she been in denial? Was she an idiot?
Brilliant but you don't really know anything do you?
This. This was going to get her nowhere. She didn't bury her face in her hands, but she came as close as she could by grabbing Ramali tightly and refusing to let go. If she broke here, she could break anywhere else. She had to be strong, she just couldn't fall back on the noblewoman because it made it easier. If her father caught her trail, it would only make it harder.
Ramali's boyish features softened, the turmoil falling away as he took a deep breath and tasted the cool, crip coming of night on his tongue. The height of Death Mountain had already cast the village in shadow despite the purple sky indicating the sun's presence. For it, he was grateful. Otherwise he may have been, may have been...
He squinted against the darkness and, yes, that wasn't a trick of his eyes there was actually a glowing something not too far away and standing in its light was...
"Siras?" he tried to tamp down the incredulity but couldn't quite manage. He suddenly, desperately hoped that he had not seen his earlier shaken state when he had emerged from the shaman's home. That the long shadows of the mountain had shielded him from at least that bit of humiliation "Is that you?"
((2172 words and 3.7 pages later... x.x ))
Posted: Thu Mar 05, 2015 6:14 pm
Siras was roused from his thoughts by the Hylian that helped to fend off the raiders. Ramali, wasn't it? Of course it was. His azure gaze shifted to the younger male, looking him up and down. He responded, dripping with sarcasm, "No, it's some other sword wielding Ordonian in Kakariko." He smirked a bit as he removed a cloth from his belt. With tender care he wiped off his grandfather's blade. Once it was dried to his satisfaction, he took a small wooden box from his bag and laid it next to him. He continued speaking as he sat down on top of a rock, rolling his neck. "Hell of a day, huh?" Siras asked him, looking at the town as night descended.
"So quiet..." He said, more to himself than anyone else. Something about the transition from day to night, it was haunting. He took out a whetstone and began to run it the length of the blade. The grinding noise was the only sound on this silent night. The birds had gone to bed, and the insects have yet to awaken. "Almost as if the attack never even happened." He raised the blade to inspect the edge. Sharp enough. "So, what brings you out to the outskirts?" He asked as he oiled the blade, rubbing it with cloth to spread it along the length of the steel. There was something meditative when it came to caring for his sword. It reminded him of his grandfather, the man that taught him how to use a blade. He doubted that the man could have foreseen what the training would be used for. He chuckled. Chosen of Ordona himself. Who would have guessed it?
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TwiDawnLight
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Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2015 7:33 pm
Ramali
"Could have fooled me."
The words rolled languidly off his tongue in a drawl which he had perfected but hadn't yet found an opportunity to use. He blinked, caught off guard, and promptly flushed as he realized he had unintentionally voiced his thoughts. Fool, he chastised himself, you know better than that. And it wasn't a case of manners (well, maybe a little) but of drawing attention because you can't very well be a typical traveler when you ride out into a horde of moblins and start casting or snap at a complete stranger at random.
Really, what would mother think?
And then he had to grab the lid on his thoughts and slam it shut, trying to focus hard on what the Ordonian was saying because mother would say a lot of things and might even answer but she's not here, is she?
(It's been a long, long time since thinking of it hurt so much but Ramali and the noblewoman both feel so lost, so unbalanced that they can't help but yearn for the comfort of that embrace.)
"I, uh, yeah" he laughed, stumbling a little with embarrassment and the odd way the world felt like it had turned sideways. He felt so many things that the noblewoman had never allowed herself to truly feel- and so he had never known it either, not really "You can say that again."
Think of moblins, think of battle, think of blood, think of fightinglivingbreathing
He shuddered slightly as he remembered because it was still his first battle, still his first experience and though talking to the old soldier and the shaman had helped (and hurt) he knew it would haunt his dreams and taint his veins for a little while. The young man tried not to focus on it too much and listen instead to his surroundings. And despite the turmoil set off by returning the brusque reply, the soft hum of sharpening steel and Siras' presence were almost a balm on his mind. There was no comfort in loneliness, but just a person nearby was enough this time. He would make it enough.
(It would have to be enough.)
Ramali sighed and sat on his haunches before plopping on the ground. Despite the heat of the day the dirt around the edge of the spring is cool and he dug his fingers in to revel in the situation. He felt a childish urge to kick off his boots and dangle his feet in the water, but he squashed it as quickly as it came. The young man tipped his head back to gaze up at the sky, sending up a thankful prayer to Din for allowing the mountain's shadow to shield him when he had needed it most. He breathed out and allowed himself to relax just a little more.
"Wanted a quiet place to clear my thoughts" he murmured, light and airy and suddenly carefree. He marveled at how swiftly his mood was changing today- it was giving even him whiplash "Though I could ask the same of you. It's not everyday one carts around an enchanted sword, no?"
Because his head felt properly addled and dread pooled in the pit of his stomach but Ramali had never, ever felt the need to be willfully blind.
((Not my best. Take it. [/kicks to] ))
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2015 8:17 pm
Siras adjusted his seating as he flipped the blade, sharpening the other side with the stone. Lips pursed, he was silent for a moment. So he had seen that. He let out a retort to deflect attention away from him. "Yes well..." He gave it a final grind before inspecting the blade for any other deformities. Satisfied, he continued with his oil and rag. "It's also not everyday that a place like this is graced with a powerful mage." He chuckled, "I doubt we could have been able to hold the town without it. You have my thanks." He stood up and sheathed his blade. "Though you didn't look like you've done much fighting, you're lucky that you weren't killed." Siras wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but he knew the dangers of battle against organized foes.
He toyed over his thoughts for a long while, letting the silence hang between the two. As far as he was concerned, he might as well have been alone at the lake. He wondered if there was something slumbering here as there was back in Ordon. Ordona spoke of other spirits, but gave him no way to contact them. He wanted to meet with the Goron, but he couldn't just leave these people to fend for themselves among these monsters. There was only one way to keep these people safe, the chief had to die. Without a chief, the Moblin would fall to infighting. Either that, or whittle down the moblin forces until the chief had to be more concerned with the safety of his holdings than raiding the nearby village. Either way, he had to find out more.
He stood up and rolled his shoulders, "Well, I know my path." he said simply. "Tomorrow, I track the Moblin to their tribe. I need to know more if I can stop them." To be honest, Siras didn't know if he could handle this tribe alone. He had dealt with large Moblin before, and he's fought agains Lizalfos, but this was something completely different. He didn't plan to fight, but if he had to, it would be time to see what these 'light' powers would be able to do.
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Posted: Mon Aug 17, 2015 9:28 pm
Ramali
"Hardly" he snorted, but preened despite himself; he was certainly no stranger to pride. But as quickly as the feeling settled in his chest warmth overtook it and a small, hesitant smile blossomed on his lips. It had been a long time since anyone had thanked him for anything. And while he didn't appreciate the misdirection, he would accept it. For now.
Though he might change his mind, he mused as anger stirred in hi gut, if Siras continued to offer such backhanded compliments.
With self control borne of the noblewoman he held his tongue. He had already told himself that stirring the pot was a poor idea; there was no reason to contradict himself unnecessarily. Better yet, he could use this energy and put it into planning his departure. It was far more constructive that way. Now, aside from meeting with the shaman he had stopped in to resupply and allow Arion a small rest. They weren't too far from Castle Town yet, but with any luck they would still be too preoccupied to bother pursuing them. That left perhaps... one or two days...
Lost in though, his mind continued along this vein until Siras spoke up. Mildly, he wondered if all men were this stupid.
"I didn't take you for a complete fool, Siras" he murmured, looking annoyed "If you do that you'll be killed no two ways about it. Moblins aren't bright, but with how numerous they are right now they don't have to be. Even assuming you're able to sneak past them, the likelihood of you escaping unscathed is remarkably low. That's not even counting the sheer number of traps they probably have scattered around their encampment; even the cleverest of foxes would eventually be caught."
It was supremely irritating when people didn't use their heads. Logically, Ramali acknowledged that not everyone had a access to a library and accurate historical accounts and analyses on the creatures of the wilds. However, Siras was a country man -Ordonian by the round ears- and should have at least rudimentary knowledge of hunting and pack behavior. Granted the Ordonians were known more for their farming, but the older male was no stranger with a sword. And with the political conflicts between Hyrule ad Ordona they were likely (possibly purposeful) gaps in security around the province. In conclusion, his experience should speak for itself.
With that, he could probably be mostly excused for the admonishing look on his face "There's no need to scout them for information; we can already infer their numbers from the assault party they sent after the village and the degree of organization they had when they attacked. They have a rudimentary grasp of strategy- they wouldn't have sent out that many without having extra to back it up. Undoubtedly, they are under the banner of a King."
((Okay and now we have a calm, thoughtful, strategic Ramali instead of Tsun!Ramali u w u; ))
Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2015 8:01 pm
Siras raised his eyebrows when Ramali spoke up. "I am not asking you to follow me. In fact, I'd advise against it. You'd probably get killed." He sheathed his blade, feeling comfortable with the weight on his hip. "Simple reconnaissance. No fighting just yet... Unless I can win." he took the stone and slipped into a pouch in his belt.
His jaw clenched, he hated being spoken down to. Especially by Hylian Nobles. Always lording their 'culture' over them. Talking about how great their people are, but they can't even keep their own kingdom safe. If all of them were like this Ramali, he couldn't be surprised by the ineptitude. "I'm not looking for a fight. Not yet. Besides, if you actually knew about the Moblin 'organization' you would know that the Warriors that weren't at the battle are probably not going to care, and be out scouring for something else to do. The ones at the village will be there, but be licking their wounds and trying to push their pride up."
He knelt down by the spring and took off his gloves. He washed the grime and oil from his hands. "They don't have patrols outside their raiding parties, and the one we sent packing is probably the only one between here and the camp." He pooled the water and splashed it on his face and neck. "And if I'm wrong..." He chuckled, "Well, I guess the townsfolk will just continue to be harassed without help." He guessed that Ramali would understand the inference.
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Posted: Tue May 09, 2017 10:04 pm
﹃
This was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be. Ever since leaving the Lost Woods, Kilk had been pretty idealistic about assembling all of the pieces of the Triforce. Considering that the Great Deku Tree and the Kokiri were counting on him (as well as another Kokiri hero who may or may not have been chosen first), he knew that time was of the essence. Still, in spite of all of this, the male had spent the last two years to no avail. Nothing of value was gained, and all of that time spent in Akkala had gone to waste.
'Dammit! Why's everyone gotta' be wrapped up in their "customs"?! None'a this would be a problem if everyone acted a bit more like me!' Kilk's childish thoughts caused his canines to grate against each other. The Kokiri's nails dug into the bark of the tree branch he was clung to, causing chips of wood to cut his calloused fingertips. From his perch, he could see three Bokoblin being led by a single Moblin. 'A hunting party..'
Kilk's tongue slid across his teeth in ravenous anticipation. Random towns and ranches may not have been his forte, but hunting was the warrior's bread and butter. Emerald eyes scanned the area, taking in any immediately pressing details. Thin woods meant that escaping through the trees after the initial strike would be difficult. Windy weather would make fighting from a distance with the slingshot a little more ineffective. The sun was past it's high point, and before long it would set. After gaining enough bare-bones information to from a strategy, Kilk leapt to action.
To kick things off, a deku nut was slung from a tree above the party. It's collision with the ground caused a bright explosion of light, and immediately blinded the hunting party. In nearly an instant, the predator leapt from his perch and landed on top of one of the Bokoblin, following up with a swift slice of his scimitar to the poor creature's neck. He'd only have a few precious seconds to work with before they recovered from their initial stun, and so Kilk had to be quick.
Next he dashed forward towards another of the Bokoblin. Because this one had pulled its Boko club and was guarding its head, Kilk resolved to slash through the beast's stomach. The silver blade ran along flesh before passing through, leaving a reasonable gash through the victim. 'Tch. Not deep enough.' The swordsman turned around to attempt to slice the Bokoblin, but it was in a frenzy, swinging it's club around wildly. Getting close wouldn't be an issue, but doing so and dispatching of the foe in a timely manner was risky. Still, risk wasn't going to stop the next hero of the Kokiri.
Kilk took off in a full charge towards his wounded prey, only to notice a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. He raised his blade in self-defence in order to block the incoming Moblin Club. Unfortunately, a one-handed sword doesn't make for a solid defense against a heavy weapon, and Kilk was sent barreling back across the grassy earth. Sticks and stones dug into his skin, and the shock his arms were enduring from the block was hellish.
The enraged Bokoblin was the first to approach, and stood over Kilk's head with vengeful bloodlust. It peered down at the Kokiri, rose it's club, and slammed it downwards when an unsatisfying pmf. Having rolled out of the way of the blow, Kilk frantically slid his scimitar across the Bokoblin's ankles, and the creature dropped to the ground with a squeal of agony. He crawled on top of the beast and slammed his sword into the creature's skull before taking off in a swift retreat.
Pulling a leaf from satchel, Kilk wasted no time in throwing it out and using Kokiri magic to expand it. He jumped in the air and stood atop the leaf, and soon enough the currents of wind caught hold. Acting almost as a wind propelled snowboard, the hunter made his getaway, moving towards the nearest settlement he knew of. Along the way, he noticed a pack of Moblin and Bokoblin in the distance, making their way away from the village. Slung over one of their backs seemed to be a figure of a person, but Kilk couldn't quite make it out.
When he finally arrived in Kakariko Village, Kilk noticed the place seemed on edge. Clearly they had just fended off the Moblin invasion, and while there was a sense of relief, everyone was still on guard. Even more troubling was the sight of a mother, who was frantically waiting near the gates. She stopped Kilk on his entry and asked, "Please sir, have you seen my son?! He was out fishing during the attack and he still hasn't come home! Please, please tell me you've seen him!" That answered who the figure slung over the Moblin's shoulder was.
Kilk rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. The Kokiri didn't process death the same way as other cultures, and while many would still mourn for at least a day at the loss of their kin, Kilk never really felt that compassion. Creatures lived and died, that was how life worked. Sucked to suck. Still, trial and error had taught the male to at least have a little bit of tact. "Eh, I think he might get eaten. I can try to get him back for you, but no promises. I'll at least bring something back for you." The mother wailed in response. Flawless execution.
﹄
◊ Health: 100% ◊ ◊ Mana: 100% ◊ ◊ Status: Normal ◊ ◊ With: Brash Ordon Guy, Nerdy Hylian Boy ◊ ◊ OOC: Bad first post, but wanted to get it out there to light this place back up! ◊
TwiDawnLight
Siras Cortage
Posted: Thu May 25, 2017 6:01 am
Ramali
Indignation came bristling back, the noblewoman rearing her head at the outright challenge. Killed? How dare he question her skill as if she hadn't had a grasp on the battle earlier?! Granted, she had panicked afterwards and had to retreat but- but-
The noblewoman's rant was cut short as the icy sting of embarrassment sank in and Ramali turned red from head to toe. He bit down on his lip, swallowing down a scathing comment or, even worse, a surprised sputter. Anything further would only come out childish, and that was an impression neither traveler nor noble could bear to carry about forever. He took a quiet, meditative breath and released it quietly, letting silence hang for a minute as he gathered his thoughts.
He hated not being right.
Perhaps the Goddesses smiled on him, however, because a commotion at the gates stopped him from having to reply. The wail of a woman to be precise. He took to his feet before he quite realized it, moving forward with a mumbled, "What's that?" and making haste towards the entrance to Kakariko. And totally not running away from this discussion. Nope. Not at all.
"Is-" Ramali cut himself off as he saw the young man and the crying woman at the gates. Slowing his approach, he shot a glanced at the young man before moving forward and placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Madam? Are you all- Goddess!"
He just about jumped out of his skin when the wailing woman suddenly clutched at his arm, nearly dropping his staff in the process. He hurriedly switched hands and awkwardly hitched it onto the holder on his back before freezing as he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. Okay. The noblewoman had fake-cried a few times. What was it that people did? The men... stood there and awkwardly patted her back, offered her a handkerchief and then stood by awkwardly or tried to say something suave and brush off her "tears". ...Oh dear.
Ramali defaulted and just awkwardly patted the woman's back. At some point she had gone from latched to his arm to buried in his shoulder. The hysterical crying had not stopped or even slowed. A quiet, internal scream that sounded like his own voice instead of the noblewoman's was steadily growing louder in the back of his mind. He shot the stranger a half-panicked, half-questioning look and hissed, "What did you do?"
((Am I pleased by this post? No. No I am not. BUT IT'S GOING UP ANYWAY SO ******** IT.))
