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Discussion in 'Rauru Village' started by Rachel Tosh, Aug 11, 2018.

  1. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Rachel stepped out of the House of Healing, tired but healed. She had spent several days under the care of the physicians and magical technicians there, and though she was grateful for the ability to walk without wincing, she was nevertheless glad to be out. She had been powerless as a patient, incapable of making any meaningful action and completely dependent on others to assure her continued good health. Yes, it was for her own good, and yes, she trusted the professionals of the House to take care of her, but still... it was not a pleasant experience. It was good to be gone.

    She stretched her arms to the heavens and bent over, brushing the cobblestoned street with the tips of her fingers before rising. Goddesses, that felt good. She relished the warm glow the movement brought to her muscles. Not a single stab of pain. The physicians had done their work well. Divine sisters, watch over them. Keep them strong. And watch over me, too, so I don't need to see them again.

    What now? She had already given her report, and to the Priestess herself no less. She considered a moment, then smiled. "What better way to celebrate my newfound good health than with a nice, spicy burrito?" With that glorious thought in mind, she set out to find herself a stall.

    [[I'll write a flashback about her time in the House of Healing and giving her report later. For now, let's do this!!!]
     
  2. Sir Prize

    Sir Prize Urban Legend
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    Fresh apple in hand, the Apple Baron strolled down the alleyway. His illusory disguise melting away, unneeded. He'd scouted the area thoroughly, even though it was one of his favorite locations. A neighboring rooftop couldn't be seen from the street on either side, and it was clear that no one had been up there in years. It was convenient walking distance from a good burrito stall. Most importantly, it was traveled. Every urchin, pickpocket and runaway knew of the shortcut. The whole town would know he was here within a couple of days.

    He placed the apple on a boarded up windowsill, and gently set the candle down on it. He drew a match from some hidden pocket and struck it on the wall, gently guiding the flame to its new home on the candle's wick. His beacon lit, he whipped the match to and fro until it died in the wind. As the ribbon of smoke billowed into the sky, something else caught his eye.

    A little girl stood at the alley's mouth, dressed in tatters and rags and smeared with soot and grime. Her expression was confused at first, then her eyes widened and her jaw fell open. Sir Prize smiled warmly. He tipped his hat to her, and stepped backwards into the shadows behind him. Like a ghost he was gone, like he was a chalk drawing suddenly wiped from a blackboard.

    The girl dashed forward, searching the shadows, but Sir Prize was nowhere to be found. She turned to walk back from whence she came and saw something glitter in the path. A single vibrant gem, red and shiny as the beacon nearby, was lying on the ground where it most certainly hadn't been before. She picked it up with reverence and care, as if it'd crack like an egg if she dropped it. "Thank you," She whispered to the shadows as she left, her gift held tight to her chest.

    In the shadows, the twili smiled. The whole town would know he was here before the sun set.
     
  3. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    Gill had spent her time productively while awaiting her new acquaintance's recovery. With the help of a more socially adept go-between, she picked up a temp job loading goods for a shop. The injured hand made things inconvenient, but Gill powered through despite the discomfort. The physical pain helped channel her focus away from thinking.

    She wasn't in the mood for thinking, for fretting about Rachel. Otherwise anxiety of the "what if" scenarios would run rampant if she let them. Instead she threw herself into the grunt work.

    Finding herself on the verge of reminisces as she made her way to the store for a final morning haul before her time with them ended, she found her thoughts blessedly interrupted as a shout came from within the store. Picking up her pace to a trot, Gill spotted a figure bursting from the door, followed by a second smaller one.

    Urchins it looked like. With full sacks on their backs. Gill sped up but was too late as the two split up in opposite directions long before she was close enough to choose a target. Approaching the shop she was about to poke her head inside when a dire threat of a hand to be chopped off was uttered from within and third very small child collided with her, nearly falling over backwards. Gill clamped down on the girl's shoulder.

    "Keep going," She whispered roughly, shoving the child off down the street. The kid was much too small to pay the penalty for a heist clearly masterminded by the first child to escape. The oldest, if Gill assumed correctly.

    "Stop her! Gill you had her! What the hell is wrong with you?" roared the shopkeeper as he appeared in the doorway, brandishing one of the chopping knives from the culinary sets he sold. Good goddesses, he really was serious about the hand chopping.

    Her temper short from fighting with anxiety, and the lack of proper sleep that came with such battles, Gill looked the shopkeeper dead in the eye and offered a deadpan, "Oh darn. They're so slippery at that age." before hooking her thumbs through the sash at her waist.

    "They made off with my goods and that's all you have to say?!" The shopkeeper was turning an unsightly purple.

    *Eh Now I've done it. She sighed internally at herself. She really needed to stop with her attitude and learn the art of mediation.

    "She was too small so I had to throw her back." Gill dug herself in deeper instead.

    "Just for that you're taking a cut from your pay to cover the goods stolen, and you can leave now!"

    "I take it the cut encompasses all my pay since I started?" she asked, annoyed at the circumstances, but she really couldn't blame him for taking his anger out on her. She was being disagreeable and entirely unsympathetic to his distress.

    "What do you think?" he replied emphatically.

    "Well it's been a real slice." Gill offered a salute and left. Once out of earshot of the shop she grumbled to herself. Great! All that work and she still only had fifty rupees to her name . More sleeping under the stars and foraging for food. What was she thinking? He wasn't really going to cut the kid's hand off. She could have taken the sack from the kid as a partial success to appease him. Ah, but the threat he had made towards the little girl had just made Gill see red.

    Feeling her deflated money bag morosely, she moved off towards the House of Healing to see if Rachel was discharged yet. It was suppose to be some time today.
     
  4. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Burrito in hand, Rachel wandered her way back toward the House of Healing. After so long surviving on hospital food, it was a delight to feast on something so hot and spicy. She hadn't really eaten yet today, so she'd opted for filling over taste, but even so the burrito was delicious. Potatoes, eggs, and vegetables drizzled with mouth-watering chili sauce and wrapped snugly in a tortilla that was itself spiced with herbs and garlic- was there anything more beautiful in the world than a good meal? She munched happily on her brunch and meandered through the main streets of her hometown. People bustled from shop to shop, eyed window displays, and were courted like lovers by the charismatic cries of hawkers proclaiming the rarity of their wares. The street flowed at a pace that greatly outstripped her quiet stroll, but she hadn't the energy to keep up with their frantic speed. She moved to the side of the street and allowed the market-goers to pass her by, feeling very much like a tired fish stumbling out of the current and watching all the other fish hurtle on past. She leaned against a wall and looked away from the dizzying rush of the main street.

    Her gaze found the entrance to a nearby alleyway, down which a group of children were huddling close together and whispering excitedly. One, a little girl dressed in rags whose face was smeared with what Rachel hoped was mud, was clearly the focus of the group. She was hopping up and down, her eyes bright and her smile wide, and her hands darted every which way to accentuate what Rachel supposed was a gripping story. The other waifs were all leaned in as if pulled by her story, and Rachel pushed off the wall, wondering what tale could be so enchanting to these small abandoned street children. Unfortunately the moment they saw her the children scattered, disappearing down the alley and vanishing into the complex web of back-alleys and narrow passages that made up the less-reputable parts of Rauru. Rachel sighed, having neither the energy nor the inclination to chase them down, and continued on her way towards the House of Healing.

    She was almost there when she spotted a familiar profile. "Gill!" She raised a hand in greeting and made her slow way over to her. "It's good to see you. I wanted to thank you for your help. You risked your life for me, and the physicians tell me that without your treatment I would've been in much worse shape." Then, getting a better sight of the young woman's face, she said, "is everything alright? You seem down."
     
  5. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    Moving along, eyes on the ground, Gill thought about what she had to do next to ensure her continued well being. This turn of events meant she might have to put her research on hold... again. The very research she had been hoping to breach the subject of with Rachel. But she needed a good deal of money so she could stop working and devote her time to the reading and interviewing that came with research.

    Ug, trouble was Gill wasn't in one of her moods when town work was preferable. She was in angry mode where travel was preferred, and being stuck in one place was making her more irritable. She let out some of her anger in a more secluded area where she drew her blade and went through a few slash and stabs. She had just sheathed her blade again when she heard a familiar voice hail her from down one street.

    Despite being glad her acquaintance-she-was-on-good-terms-with was up and about, she was too deep in her anger to feel much of anything positive and the expression she showed to Rachel was one of glowering

    "Naw, this is my normal face. It finally froze this way, just as the grownups always said it would." she offered a deadpan explanation, which did not help the lie as she moodily kicked at a loose cobble and watched it bounce away.

    "But enough about that. I'm glad you're up and about. I'm just sorry I couldn't have helped more. I usually have better remedies on myself but I happen to be experiencing short supply currently." She shifted the conversation, but did not touch on the life-saving. It made her uncomfortable when the moment had been so fraught with indecision and adrenaline.

    Besides, anyone would have done the same in her place, excepting the bastard who had created the situation to begin with.

    Okay, maybe not everyone, but most people, she would think.
     
  6. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Hm. There was something bothering the girl, but if she didn't want to tell then Rachel wasn't going to pry. The secret gnawed at her like all secrets did, but this wasn't work, and Rachel owed the girl far too much to let her ravenous curiosity loose on her. At Gill's attempt to undervalue her actions, Rachel whisked a few fingers like she was brushing off a fly. "No, it was perfect. You did wonderfully with what you had, I couldn't have asked for anything more. Actually, that reminds me." She guided Gill out of the center of the street and off to the side, toward the entrance of a small taco shop that was mostly deserted. A worker standing at the front door eyed them hopefully, but Rachel sniffed and stopped at the window, and he deflated. Tacos. Such inferior creations. She turned her attention back on Gill, now able to better converse more privately without the press of the crowd on every side.

    "I wanted to ask- is there anything I can help you with? You jumped into fire for me, a stranger, and I- well, saying 'thanks' doesn't really feel like enough." She shifted uncomfortably. There wasn't really an easy way to say this. Still, she was sincere, and she pushed on despite the awkwardness she felt. "I'm not incredibly influential or anything, but I do have a place in the Order, and I have a lot of contacts in Rauru and abroad. Is there anything you need help with? I may be able to offer some assistance."
     
  7. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    Gill listened to the praises and shrank within herself, hunching her shoulders and muttering, "No... not really... I mean, it could'a been better." under Rachel's praise. She really wasn't all that. Despite herself she felt a small glow, not of pride, she never felt pride in the success of her poultices and potions. Rather, she felt a certain gratitude, it meant a lot more to her than she would admit even to herself, to hear it from Rachel after that hell of an experience.

    When Rachel broached the subject of returning the favor, Gill felt herself slipping into silent panic mode for a moment. *Okay, don't mess this up, just reply and be honest. You can be honest, brutally sometimes, just... don't mess this up.*

    "Well, I... mmm," she looked about, then let it out evenly, "I've always wanted to research the disappearance of the Hero and Princess... and I guess Ganondorf. I know everyone says they're dead, but, I dunno. I guess I want proof for myself. I just don't know where to start, or who to ask. I'm too awkward to approach people normally."

    There, she said it. She felt a certain mix of trepidation and relief. It was unpleasant as the two circled round, rising and falling in her gut.
     
  8. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Rachel whistled. "You don't screw around, huh Gill? Research into the Hero, the Princess, and the Demon King." She rubbed her bottom lip, thinking. "Hmmm. Well, you could always search the Order's library, but you won't find anything new there. If there's a secret beyond what's commonly known, you won't be able to uncover it by searching through the books. And if the higher-ups in the Order know, they won't tell you. Or me, for that matter. Let me see...." She began to run through a mental list of contacts and villages she had visited, looking for a person or place that might know something.

    Before she could get far, though, a child tore out of the crowd and staggered into her. "Whoa!" Rachel reeled back, catching herself on the wall for support, and turned to glare at the fleeing kid's back. "Watch where you're going!" Her wits returned, and she patted her pockets down. "Oh no," she said, breaking into a run after him. "He stole my wallet!" If only she had magic over Earth, she could raise a barrier and stop him cold. But before she could think of a solution with Light, the kid had ducked around a corner. Rachel raced after him, then staggered to a halt.

    "Good Goddesses," she breathed. The kid was standing frozen in the alleyway, staring at a dark shape looming up out of the shadows. Behind it, a small apple altar burned low, its candle almost extinguished. "I always thought it was just an urban legend," she said, feeling oddly surreal. "Could the tales be true?"

    ((We couldn't think of a good way to bring Sir Prize in, but this seemed the quickest way to get us all together and the story moving along))
     
  9. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    Gill listened to Rachel, hope fleeing. But she still had some ideas.

    "If books can't give any clues I figured maybe--" she was going to suggest Hera outpost where there would be plenty of veterans of the war with firsthand accounts of the battle where the three had disappeared happened, but she was interrupted when a child staggered out of the crowd and rammed into Rachel, taking off without an apology.

    Please no

    "Oh no." Rachel spoke and took off running, "He stole my wallet!"

    "Dammit kid!" Gill sped after, "I let you ingrates go once today, don't push your luck!"

    Faster than Rachel, she sprinted ahead, but the kid was difficult to keep up with, She tried to maintain top speed as she rounded the corner after the kid but the momentum sent her into the alley wall, momentarily slowing her down, she started after the kid again as Rachel caught up. She had to stop at the sight before her. The mysterious shrouded figure had her instantly reaching for her sword, but she did not wish to draw before a group of children, however much she was annoyed with the little urchins.

    As Rachel spoke breathlessly, Gill took in the scene again, noticing the ..... the... candled apple. The frig was this?

    "Tales?" she questioned. Being an introvert and misanthrope, she was quite out of the loop on this one. Vague imaginings of a strange sorcerer controlling children to do his evil bidding came to mind, and the grip on her blade tightened.
     
  10. Sir Prize

    Sir Prize Urban Legend
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    It was sloppy, to be honest. Too much force, not enough dexterity. If the kid kept picking pockets like that, he'd lose a hand one of these days. Worse yet, he'd twisted his ankle and his pursuers were gaining on him. He'd teach the kid a little finesse, later, for now it was time to step in and save his hide.

    Sir Prize lived up to his name, dropping to from the rooftop with echoing gravitas, using a subtle bit of earth magic on the cobblestones to make his landing loud and startling. The kid stopped cold as he rose to tower over him. The child wasn't the only one, his pursuers were mere paces behind. He smiled, shifting his foot and allowing his spell to seep up into the brickwork around them. When he spoke, the sound echoed eerily, his mouth unmoving as the stones spoke for him.

    "Tsk tsk tsk..." he began, conveying the gentle disappointment of an elder sibling chiding the younger. He held his hand out before the young thief. Perhaps too bewildered to move, the thief only stood and gawked. Sir Prize sighed, waved his hand in a lazy circle and snapped his fingers. It was one of the simpler spells, if flashy for his particular brand of magic. Most treated the magic of Twilight as simple illusion, but it was something far grander. He made a claim to the universe that the wallet was there in his hand, and in a jagged black cloud the lie became truth and the thief stood empty handed. "Run along," he said from everywhere and nowhere. "Rob someone who can afford it next time." His brain finally catching up with his legs, the thief bolted.

    The Apple baron only smiled at the guests in the alley, his alley. He tossed the wallet abruptly toward them, tipped his hat to them both, and sank into the shadows at his feet. He hadn't left, of course, but the bookish one had recognized him. He was curious, and so deftly seeped into her own shadow to watch... of course, to the careful observer, it wasn't quite her shadow anymore.
     
    #10 Sir Prize, Sep 26, 2018
    Last edited: Sep 28, 2018
  11. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    "No, wait!" Rachel threw out a hand, but the man was gone. "Stars," she said, bending down to retrieve her wallet. "He sunk right into the stones. And that Shadow magic- a Twili?" His trick had the same particle effect as Twili practitioners in the Gerudo Desert she'd met, and vanishing into the shadows was a dead ringer for the exiled race.

    She turned to clarify for Gill. "Sir Prize is an urban legend. Helps kids on the street in need, steals from the rich to help the poor, that sort of thing." She waved a hand toward the apple altar. "The story goes he leaves these scattered around when he visits a village. It's a beacon to put-upon urchins who need help." She paused. "I always thought it was a just a story," she confessed. "Meant to lift the spirits of those people society has abandoned." She looked over at the cobblestones where he'd landed. "Seems he's real."

    She sighed. "Anyway, I have my wallet back. Let's leave this alley and go somewhere less chaotic. We were talking about how to find the fate of the Hero of Legend and the Princess of Destiny. If books won't do, we'll have to travel. But this may be dangerous. If there is a secret here, there's a reason it's been hidden from the public, and we don't know what we'll find or who we'll cross when we start digging."

    She swallowed. Her heart fluttered at the thought of being hurt again. "I... Gill, I just got out of the Healing House today. I don't want to go anywhere particularly perilous just yet, at least not without finding a guardian or bodyguard." She shivered and wrapped her cloak more tightly about herself. "It seems every time I leave home lately something awful happens. I think it's best to plan for the worst in these troubled times." They would be researching, not hunting through old ruins or wading into a gang war, but still... She ached all over, and she'd been surprised too many times to take any risks. Maybe she was getting paranoid, but better she be too cautious than killed. She was done taking unnecessary risks. She'd felt the cool touch of death brush against her too many times to leap into unknown situations, no matter how innocent and simple they seemed, without taking several precautions first.
     
    #11 Rachel Tosh, Sep 28, 2018
    Last edited: Sep 28, 2018
  12. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    Gill watched the mysterious one sink into the ground, letting off a dry, "Well that wasn't fear inducing at all."

    Rachel's explanation eased her tension enough that she straightened up from the fighting stance she had naturally slipped into. That was certainly an interesting person.

    She fell into step beside Rachel, listening and contemplating. Her heart sank at Rachel's confession of worry for their safety after what had happened so recently, but she understood fully the woman's reluctance to travel. To be honest she did not really deem it wise to take the woman along considering how little if any combat training she had. Gill didn't quite trust her single blade to protect them well enough either, and the fact that they were both women was a count against them already. Always made one more of a target.

    "No, I get it, Rachel. I don't want to drag you around into possible peril. I'm fine on my own or in a group so long as the majority can also fight..."

    It's just the starting and maintaining a normal conversation that's the problem. she sighed inwardly, wondering what she was suppose to do now.

    "Never mind about it for now... I have to put off the hunt anyways and find more work. Job I took while waiting for your recovery ended up... mmm... well I'm sure I'll find the whole thing amusing some day, but this is not that day . But I was thinking," she continued, not wishing to dwell on that, "For when and if you do decide to travel again, you might wanna learn some combat training. I could show you some hand-to-hand stuff. The sword's too much self taught and instincts for me to explain how I do it. I tried once, and it is another incident that I don't find amusing just yet in this time of my life. More unsettling-like."
     
  13. Sir Prize

    Sir Prize Urban Legend
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    'By the Mirror, these idiots are going to die.' Thought the legend, as the shadow he occupied appeared to be massaging its temples. 'They can't even fight properly, if at all, and they want to go after the Big Three?'

    The Hero was damned near impossible to kill, but the legends really undersold the terrible danger in which he must have spent every waking moment. Prize had tried following in his footsteps once, emphasis on tried. If Death Mountain was anything to go by, death defying stunts must have passed for casual exercise for that lunatic. One sheer lodestone wall had been quite enough for Prize, and he wasn't about to chance the other half dozen suspended over pools of boiling rock. He shuddered. 'And he did that WITHOUT magic.'

    Of course, that wasn't the real danger. The real danger would come from the hundreds of blin, undead, and wild monsters between them and whatever they were looking for. None of the three were known for traveling safe roads. Rather the opposite really. 'And that's just the one that might have left a trail to follow at all.' He thought, with growing concern. 'How in Midna's name do they plan to track down the other two?"

    Prize was doing quite a lot of thinking and fretting on behalf of his new sisters. So much thinking that certain unsavory characters went unnoticed as they followed a subtle distance behind.
     
  14. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Rachel scratched her chin thoughtfully. "I've been meaning to learn self-defense lately, but I've been so busy I hadn't ever gotten around to it. I've looked for magical means, but hand to hand combat..." To be honest, she hadn't considered it. She wasn't strong or quick, but she was good with magic, so she'd completely disregarded any thoughts of physical protection. But now she was desperate, and if Gill was offering to teach her, she didn't want to wait until 'someday' to learn. She didn't know when the universe would conspire to throw her in harm's way again, but it would certainly come before 'someday.'

    She nodded. "Well, if you think you'd be a good teacher, I can hire you to teach me lessons while we travel. After what happened, I don't think I'll have any trouble getting the Order to foot the bill." Especially not if she put her foot down and refused to work unless she learned self-defense. It was high time for such a move. She didn't know how much Gill could teach her, but at the very least, it would give them (or, more accurately, Gill) funding while they searched for the fates of the Three. And maybe she knew some others around the villages who could teach her-

    Two tall shapes stepped out of the darkness in front of them, blocking the way forward. They were backlit by the sun, and Rachel couldn't make out more than their silhouettes. She frowned and shaded her eyes, trying to see. A voice cracked the still air behind her, and she screamed and flinched so hard she staggered to the side and slammed into a nearby wastebasket. "Get on the ground! Get down! Hands on your knees, head down! Don't look at us! Down!"
     
    #14 Rachel Tosh, Oct 8, 2018
    Last edited: Oct 11, 2018
  15. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
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    She had not expected Rachel to latch onto the idea of self defense lessons so enthusiastically. Where a normal person would find a ray of light at the idea of being paid for services rendered, Gill wondered if she would really be earning her keep or failing Rachel's expectations. A dark spiral of degrading thoughts began to drag her down, and she was only just shaking herself out of it when the bad luck that seemed to be the name of the day continued in the appearance of ruffians.

    "NO!" was Gill's forceful response to their command, "I have had it up to here with this!" she had her sword halfway out when one of the shady characters barreled into her, one hand clamping down on her sword wrist, the other on her shoulder as he tried to shove her into the nearby wall.

    "Don't try to be a hero!" he hissed.

    "Would a hero do this?" Gill replied through gritted teeth. With a "Eyah!" she kicked him in the crotch. As he curled up and stumbled away she pulled out of his grip in time to confront the second one coming at her. Sidestepping his slashing dagger she drew her blade, using the force to shove the pommel into his stomach. she felt it hit something metallic and she caught sight of rusted armor under his cloak.

    Gill realized her error as he brought the pommel of his weapon down on her head. Stars exploded and she felt her body hit the ground.

    *Damnit!*
     
  16. Sir Prize

    Sir Prize Urban Legend
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    Sir Prize watched, briefly stunned. Ironically, he'd been surprised himself, and his charges had been assaulted. 'Shards!' he swore in his head. The shadow began to seep outward, slowly dying the secluded square with unnatural darkness. He didn't know what these men... no, these monsters wanted. It mattered little. They'd threatened, injured even, HIS little sisters. There was a price to be paid. They would not die well.

    He loomed out of the center of the square, his lanky form dyed in black and amber as the light faded from the world. The runes over his eye burned an angry red like glowing coals. The cobbles spoke for him, his voice booming from everywhere at once. "Beg forgiveness, heathens..." the cobbles rumbled. "Only if my sisters forgive will you be spared." At every exit the bricks seemed to flow together, sealing away any chance of escape. The silence was deafening, an all encompassing absence that made your heartbeat, your very breath strain your ears.

    The one wearing armor raised his dagger, and lunged with a defiant roar. Prize narrowed his eyes, suppressing the instinct to dodge as he insisted the blade was made of glass. That kind of lie could only hold over the truth for a moment, but that was all he needed. He swung his arm, almost lazily, as he cast. A burst of black, and the blade shattered against the knives up his sleeves. The shards turned back to steel as they fell, scattering across the stones like a hail of pins and needles.

    The shadows beneath the criminal darkened like spilled ink. He took a shaking step back, then fell to the ground with a yelp, as his foot seemed to sink into nothingness. "You have chosen poorly," the cobbles thundered as he began to sink.

    This was a particularly clever, if gruesome, method of murder. A bit of magical sleight-of-hand. The inky darkness hid the earth magic at work as cobbles shifted aside and the earth beneath turned fluid and hungry. Twili could not carry people with them into the shadows, not normally... but Prize could fake it. As the legend said, when Prize would spirit the bad men away, they never found their way out of the shadows.

    The criminal screamed as he clawed at the ground, trying desperately to find purchase, to pull himself free. But it was no use. The earth itself was gulping him down like a great beast, relentless in its hunger. A few brief moments of unrelenting terror later, his reaching hand sunk below the shadow as the cobblestones shifted back into place over yet another unmarked grave. The grim task complete, the shadows faded slightly, allowing the cobbles to be seen once more, clean and unmarred.

    He turned his glare on the other assailant, who stuttered and gibbered as he hastily backed away from the blonde scholar. "I ain't t-t-t-touchin' her, B-b-b-brother Dusk!" he stuttered, the words shaking as much as his knees. "I-I-I ain't..... I-I ain't...!" Words failed him. The color was gone from his face, his weapon forgotten in its sheath at his side. He quivered in terror as he pressed his back against a wall, as Sir Prize seemed to flow slowly closer to him like a malevolent specter.
     
    #16 Sir Prize, Oct 9, 2018
    Last edited: Oct 9, 2018
  17. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
    Silver Hylian

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    Rachel screamed. She screamed at the mugger's voice. She screamed as she staggered over a wastebasket and smacked into the alley's wall. She screamed as Gill fell. She tried to move her frozen muscles, but she was unable to do anything but stand there, screaming, while her muscles quivered and her whole body shook with terror. Then her shadow stretched out from underneath her to the center of the square and spoke, and she found she had no more air with which to scream. She struggled for breath while the cobblestones thundered with the force of her shadow's voice.

    Then the ground was covered with darkness, and the mugger began to sink into it. Rachel fell to her knees as the man screamed and clawed at the shadows. Almost on reflex, as a child would reach out and, without thinking, touch a dead animal they had never seen before, she reached out with her Spirit and felt at the magic. She shuddered. Earth magic. Quicksand. It was a terrible way to die. She watched in dull-eyed terror as the man passed through the veneer of shadows and was slowly swallowed by the liquid earth below.

    His head disappeared from view. Rachel felt his spirit surge in a last rush as it struggled for breath. Then... nothing. It faded, then the presence winked out. The man was dead. Dimly, Rachel was aware of the other mugger begging, of the Twili advancing on him, and of Gill's still form lying nearby, but she did not pull her eyes from the cobbles. "They look the same," she whispered. "Right there. Right under our feet." The body. His body. A person. Dead. And the cobblestones were the same.

    It was too much. She sobbed.

    "Earth, swallow this body
    whole, receive me just as I am,
    for I can't stand it any ... longer."

    She lowered her head and cried.
     
  18. Gill

    Gill Misanthropic swordswoman
    Hylian

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    Gill lay on the ground, still fully aware, able to hear but not respond. She fought for control of her body, the stars replaced by a blackness blocking out all light or color before her fluttering eyelids, her limbs a tingling dead weight.

    Stay awake! Stay awake. I'm... coming... goddesses! Goddesses, get me... back... up!

    She was relieved to hear someone else coming to their rescue, but who the bloody hell was he calling sisters? The screaming was maddening. What was going on up there?

    Calm down Rachel, we're saved, woman!
    she thought, listening to the mingled screams.

    Not a moment too soon blackness faded from her vision and she could see straight. Colors flickered into focus and Gill heaved herself up fast. Leaning against the wall she brandished her sword and took stock of the situation.

    One... gone... the apple king bearing down on the one who had been at Rachel. The third?

    "Wotchers!" Gill forced the pain and dizziness away as she lifted her blade and propelled herself into the last assailant who was creeping up on the apple king.Throwing her weight behind her sword, Gill caught him cleanly between the ribs and the two collapsed in a heap.

    "And whosya callin' sister....?" she slurred, the black curtain grasping at the corners of her eyes. She might actually have a concussion! Bastard got what was coming to him, whatever had happened to him. that would have killed her if she not been Gill, hardest head of the pack back in the days when she ran with the boys of the village.
     
  19. Sir Prize

    Sir Prize Urban Legend
    Twili

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    He'd missed one. He'd missed one, and one of his sisters had saved his life while he was pouring on the goddamned drama. He took stock of the scene. 'There were two I knew of, if I missed one I could have missed more.' The man before him seemed to be trying to merge into the wall to get away from him, so consumed by his fear. And his little sisters... one was barely conscious and one was... crying? 'Is she hurt? I thought I got here in time...' he thought with growing dismay.

    "You are no longer important," he growled to the criminal, "Do not mistake this for mercy. Flee and pray that I do not find you." He glided slowly backward as the exits to the square slowly opened again. The man bolted, gibbering as he sprinted into the fading light of the evening. Prize knelt, the shadows fading from around him. He laid a hand on the cobblestones, and poured a part of himself into it, feeling every footstep and heart beat in an expanding ring around him. A few moments passed as he marked those around him. The fleeing felon, the cooling corpses, the crying scholar, and soon to be unconscious heroine. A few urchins bums circulating in the alleys around. Satisfied they were alone, he severed the spell.

    The darkness seemed to bleed off him, flowing down his sides like water. He was the man from the alley again, no tricks or spell-work. He first tended to the more butch one, lying face down in a pool of someone else's blood. He dragged her over to the other one, better that they stay close to each other. He leaned her up against the wall, checking her eyes. "Stay awake" he said, his voice cracking slightly from disuse. 'Has it really been this long since I spoke?' He thought. 'Focus now, introspect later.' He fumbled a bit, checking various hidden pockets, and came up with a hip flask. He brought it to the young woman's lips, carefully tipping a sip into her mouth. "Its healing potion," he said. "Try to swallow."
     
  20. Rachel Tosh

    Rachel Tosh Quill's Historian of Butts
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    Rachel stared down at her knees, her head bowed. Her hands shook, and her vision was clouded with tears that dripped down steadily off the bridge of her nose and splattered onto her dress. The urban folk hero was growling something, but Rachel wasn't listening. All she could do was kneel there and stare at nothing.

    Gill's unmoving head came into view. It took a monumental effort of will, but Rachel tore her eyes from her dress and looked at her fallen friend. She sucked in a deep, gasping breath. A trail of blood spread out behind her, leading back to where a man lay motionless on the cobblestones. She recognized Gill's sword sticking out of his chest. The woman herself was covered in blood. Her hair was matted, and her clothes were drenched from when she had fallen face-first into the pool of the mugger's lifeblood. In a moment of madness, Rachel thought she looked like a burrito dropped in hot sauce. Goddesses. There was so much blood....

    "Gill. Gill." She choked out her friend's name, and her whole body shook as she cried. "Gill." The shadow-man reached into his pocket, and she flinched at the motion, but when she saw what he held her gaze slid back to Gill's still form. A healing potion was a blessing, but not a solution. How much of this blood was hers? Rachel hadn't seen it all, but she had seen Gill take a terrible hit to the head, and that... that was bad. She had seen too many injuries during her travels, and head blows were some of the scariest.

    Her body was lead, her spirit dark and broken, and the very air seemed to weigh her down onto the dark cobblestones of the alley. She was paralyzed, and all her foggy head wanted was to droop and stare at her knees, with no thought to pain, anguish, or loss. But... Gill. The woman had risked her life for her before, had braved fire to save her from a psychotic war criminal. She had tended Rachel's burns, had helped her back to the House of Healing, and had even offered to teach her self-defense. Gill had been nothing but good to her, and now- for the first time- she needed Rachel. Everything hurt, and her eyes and throat burned from the tears, but she couldn't leave her friend now. Goddesses, give me strength, for I have none.

    Her fingers trembling, Rachel slid a hand along Gill's head. There. She felt at the knob on her friend's skull. She cleared her throat. "No bleeding," she said, and though her voice shook, it didn't break. She pulled back Gill's eyelids. "Her pupils are wrong," she said, "that's a concussion, I think, a bad one." She bit her lip. Healing magic was a multi-discipline practice, and Light was one of the elements healers could use in their work. But though Rachel was good with Light magic, she had never studied healing. She didn't know how the human body worked, had never practiced weaving her Light that way, and she was deathly afraid that anything she tried would ultimately hurt Gill more than it helped. The body was so complicated, the brain even more so, and if she messed up....

    For a moment, a familiar frustration overwhelmed her. *Useless, useless, useless!* Her power never made a difference, neither did her training or knowledge or experience. She was helpless, useless, unable to do anything but sob as things went to hell and her friends fought to survive.

    Stop. Focus. She was backsliding, and she couldn't afford to fall into herself. Gill needed her. Maybe she did suffer from chronic uselessness, but this time there was something she could do. She glanced up at Sir Prize. She didn't need to know healing to understand that Gill couldn't be allowed to slip away. "Stay awake, Gill," she said, and she pressed her palms against Gill's temples. This had the added benefit of keeping Gill's head still, which could only be a good thing. She reached out with Spirit magic and let her power flow through her fingers into Gill. In her battle against Gorehide, she had used her Spirit magic to lay despair and hopelessness upon the Goron like a shroud of misery. She used it in a similar way now. "Stay awake," she repeated. "Awake. Alert. Think. Feel. Push the fog back. Don't sleep. Don't close your eyes. Stay awake." She wove the words into her magic and pressed them to Gill. "Please," she said, and her voice cracked on the word, "please, stay awake. Talk to me, Gill. Don't slip away. Tell me- tell me about your home. What sort of place was it?" She pushed more Spirit into her, trying to energize her, keep her awake and alert.

    She looked up from where she held Gill's bloody head to Sir Prize, and when she spoke her voice had an edge to it that hadn't been there a moment before. "I doubt your Earth or Shadow can do much for her. Run to the House of Healing. Get help. Quickly!"
     

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