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Group Smoke in the Outskirts

Discussion in 'Rauru Village' started by Moone, Mar 19, 2018.

  1. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
    Hylian

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    Nathaniel felt relief, as if a great crushing weight had lifted from his shoulders. Granted, he didn't feel much else just then. His vision flickered, and he knew he was losing time, seconds or minutes with every flash of black. His magic was gone. He'd poured every drop into his patient.

    After... care...
    long term dam...
    damage.


    He turned to the Lizalfos. The one who was still awake. "Magic... gone..." he said. His vision flickered again. "Potion... my bag..." Flicker. "Glass bottle..."

    Admini-...

    Adm-...

    Give it to-...


    He fell to the ground, staring up at the sky. If his vision was flickering, he could no longer tell. The vast gears of his mind were slowing down and grinding, like a great clock was winding down. He'd pushed himself too far, too fast, too hard. It was like trying to drink deep from a teaspoon.

    pro-...

    proc-...

    p.............

    His eyes closed as his strength failed and his mind ground to a halt under the crushing weight of adrenaline crash and magical void. He dreamed in vivid memories that night. He dreamed of his childhood, of his very first teacher. The teacher he hated with every fiber of his being... and yet had managed to teach him more than any other.
     
  2. Michael Scale

    Michael Scale Goron in disguise
    Lizalfos

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    There were a few things Michael wasn't sure about. He wasn't sure why he was shot at. He wasn't sure who these people were. And he wasn't sure if cuckoos tasted better than fish. But he was pretty sure that the woman before him had been dead. Not just unconscious or asleep. Dead. Now she was breathing lightly as if she hadn't realized she died. Somehow this Hylian brought her back to life. Now Michael was standing next to two people sleeping in a pile of smelly goo. Great. Just great. I love unconscious people. They can't take care of themselves or tell you what's wrong. Lovely.

    Mike started rifling through Nathaniel’s pack. He wasn't an expert on potions, he usually let Liz handle non combative stuff like that. Inside the bag was two different bottles which made Mike groan. Why can't he label these? One of the bottles was bright red which seemed like your standard healing potion. He just hoped it worked on the recently deceased. But the other bottle had a substance that Michael couldn't place. Whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't a magic potion that help people be brought back to life. He took the red potion out, pausing as he considered taking a loaf of bread in there as well. Deciding against it, he opened the bottle and began pouring it into the woman's mouth. Once he had done his best to get the two out of immediate danger, away from the fire and noxious goo, he went into the village. I hope I can find a healer.

    --------

    That's how Michael came to be standing outside a small building while his… friends (?) lay inside in comfy beds. He had asked around for people to help him get the two into town. If it wasn't for the Hylian they probably would have left the other Lizalfos to rot. But as he had done nothing to upset any townsfolk, they took the unconscious Lizalfos in and made Michael wait outside after his wound was fixed up. He tried making small talk with the other Hylians. Things like “Why did the cuckoo cross the road?” But it became quite clear that they were only around to make sure he didn't get into trouble. He paced back and forth as his tail swung around nervously. Occasionally he'd peek in the window but everyone was still asleep. Why am I even worried about these people? But he knew the reason. That Lizalfos had stood up for him. At the very least he needed to thank her.
     
  3. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    Squamata woke to the sounds of birds singing. She lay there comfortably for a time, appreciating the softness of gently floating up into consciousness, but slowly she came to realize that something was off. She liked to pull her blanket up over her eyes when she slept, but her blanket was tucked around her like wrapping around a piece of meat. More, the ground underneath her was too cushy to be the firm stones of her home in the swamp. She opened her eyes. "Oh." She shouldn't be surprised that she wasn't in Midoro. She hadn't been home in weeks now. Yet it seemed to her that there were times when she forgot that the world wasn't as it should be, and in these times all was well and right again... until she remembered the truth and her failures came crashing down on her once again.

    She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket up over her eyes, and old habit from her childhood. She could still feel the last vestiges of sleep swirling about her. Maybe, if she closed her eyes and lay still, she could drift off and forget for a little while longer. Maybe, in her dreams, she would never have left Midoro. But sleep eluded her, as did the escape of dreams, and her mind became more solidly present in the moment, until finally she was forced to accept that she had to get up, had to face the world, had to accept the reality that she had, once again, failed.

    I almost died choking on my own vomit. Spirits of the earth, what a mess she was. Her ancestors must be ashamed of her. She had been exiled from Midoro for being defeated, humiliated, by the Hylian Garen twice, then she'd found a cause worth fighting for and been promptly thrown out of Rauru, now this. A jolt of adrenaline shot through her. Rauru! Daman! She sat up, the blanket falling off her. She was supposed to wait for him! His quest would rid the marshes of the Zora invaders, and she- and she- she slumped. It was too late. The sky outside was dark. The day had passed with her unconscious. Daman would have left the village with his team and gone on to wherever he was going by now. She had missed him, and with him, her chance to regain her honor and help her people.

    Squamata felt tears of frustration and loss well up, but she forced them down with a rough clearing of her throat. She wasn't alone in here. Someone was in the other bed on the far end of the room, though her sight was mostly blocked by a very inconvenient line of plants hanging from the ceiling. "Hello?" She asked. "Where am I?" She tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness swept over her, and she immediately ceased her movements. "What happened?"
     
  4. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
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    Nathaniel stirred, already beginning to wake from his slumber. He felt lethargic and weak, and his belly felt like a cavernous void. His arm still burned from the magic he'd forced through it.

    Good. The other one must have gotten the potion. I should probably brew some more.

    He forced himself upright, agonizingly slowly. He felt as if his body was made of rusted iron.

    Tomorrow.... definitely tomorrow.... hm?

    The other bed was occupied. Occupied and asking questions.

    Of course! The patient. The warrior must have dragged us back to town for medical attention... or at least convalescence.

    "What happened was series of disasters with the best of intentions." He groaned. "I'm sorry about the glue, by the way. I've never used it that way... it was... disturbing to say the least. You nearly died." Nathaniel was relieved that he'd managed to save her. He worried about the archer though. He'd been panicking when he fled... liable to make mistakes.

    Nothing for it... The page has turned.
     
  5. Michael Scale

    Michael Scale Goron in disguise
    Lizalfos

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    Michael looked in the window for what seemed like the thousandth time. By now it was dark and he had eaten from one of the food stalls. He was so used to seeing nothing going on in the room that he was startled when he saw they were both awake. About time. He strode into the building ready for answer about what had happened.

    The two were already talking but he didn't care what they were saying, he just interrupted them. “I'm glad you're both awake,” He said as he entered. “I, I wanted to thank you,” He addressed the other Lizalfos specifically. “After that Hylian shot me, you were prepared to go after him despite the fact you don't know me at all.” Mike knew plenty of people back home who wouldn't risk their necks just to save someone else. He didn't like cowards, but both of the people in front of him clearly weren't of that variety. Even though the Hylian made a mistake he immediately tried his best to rectify it, despite the fact that it clearly caused him pain. “After this guy, Nathaniel I think,” He looked at the Hylian for confirmation to make sure he remembered correctly. “Threw, whatever it was at you, he saved you. And after that, well you both kind of passed out. I brought you here so you could rest up.”

    Now that Michael had said his piece he wanted answers. "My name is Michael if you didn't catch that. Who are you guys and what happened back there?" With nothing else to say he just waited for the others to respond. He tried to stop his tail from absently swinging around, afraid he might accidentally knock something over.
     
  6. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    The other occupant was a human. The same human, in fact, who had been fending off the Moblins earlier. Squamata didn't know anything about him, just that he'd been dumb enough to wander into a Moblin's cave and attack them when they came running, but he had given her food after she'd saved him, so he couldn't be all bad. Why was he in a bed? The other Lizalfos was the one who'd gotten shot- wouldn't he need the rest more? Had the Hylian been injured? She couldn't remember; when she thought back all she could find was terror, the awful smell, choking... dying....

    Too soon. Her experience had been so huge, she needed to face it right. The man was still talking, distracting her; she'd handle it later. Later. She pushed herself up into a seated position, leaning against the wall for support. She frowned while the man spoke, not sure what he meant. The... glue? What was he talking about?

    The door opened, and the other Lizalfos came in and immediately started on what sounded like a pre-planned speech. He must've been waiting for hours to say this. Squamata nodded in response at his thanks. It was what she did- fight to protect her kin. It didn't matter that she didn't know him personally. He was Lizalfos. That was enough.

    Michael finished talking, leaving Squamata to gape. "Wait, wait, hold up." She shook her head, trying to clear it and organize the information he'd just dropped on her. "That was glue?" She glared across the room at the human. "You threw that at me? You bastard, I nearly choked on that shit!" She tried to get to her feet, wobbled dangerously, tried to steady herself, failed, and eased back down onto the bed. "Bastard," she muttered.

    "Michael... he says you saved me?" That explained why he was resting. She paused, trying to sort through all this new information. "I guess I should be pissed," she said, leaning her head back against the wall, "but...." An image of smoke before the fire, an owl beside the flame, rose up in her mind. She tried to push it away, but it stuck in her head. Maybe she should be furious with the human, but it was hard to be anything but tired at the moment, and in the face of that image... it called to her, wrapped itself around her mind, tried to pull her down a path that frightened her even as it enticed her. It was hard to be angry at the man with that flickering in her mind, and, well... "you did save me," she said again. "Thanks."

    She gazed down at her hands and said, softly, "I didn't want to die."
     
    #26 Squamata, Mar 27, 2018
    Last edited: Mar 28, 2018
  7. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
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    "Fair enough," he said. "I didn't want to kill." He gave a weak smile. "Introductions are in order, I suppose." He said. "My name is Nathaniel Moone... most just use my surname. I'd come and shake your hand but I'm not certain I can stand just now."

    "As for what happened, Micheal, was a handful of rash decisions. When... I think I he said his name was Varus?" Moone said, massaging his temples like it would pry details loose from the folds of his mind. "When Varus approached us, it was taking everything he had not to shoot her." He nodded to the neighboring bed.

    "He was warstained," he said, his tone slightly subdued. "You could see it in his eyes. He wasn't pointing his crossbow at you, he was pointing it at every Lizalfos he's ever had to fight. And he managed, if only for a moment, to greet you as a person..." He turned, looking at Micheal. "But he was paying so much attention to psyching himself up, he never saw you." He paused, easing his aching frame back down onto the mattress.

    "If he wanted you dead... either of you... there are a couple of moblins out in that field that can attest to his aim. Perfect headshots from 40 yards at least, and through the treeline. If he wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation. We'd be having a eulogy."
     
  8. Michael Scale

    Michael Scale Goron in disguise
    Lizalfos

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    Michael wasn't sure why, but he felt bound to this other Lizalfos. Not in debt to exactly, though he greatly appreciated her act of bravery on his behalf. Nor did he feel attracted to her, she was much too fierce for him. Yet there was something… compelling about her. Like she radiated leadership. He was afraid she was going to strangle the Hylian in a rage and was about to rush to intercept her. But she was in too much pain to do anything but sit up. He briefly wondered where the healers had gone, but then pushed the thought from his mind.

    He turned his attention to Moone at the mention of the ranger Varus. Michael could understand the hatred the Hylian must have felt in his presence. His own hatred of Moblins had spurned him forward to talk to these strangers. He missed on purpose. The Lizalfos touched his shoulder. He wondered what the Hylian had thought as he shot him. Strange that he could be so calm about it now that the confrontation was over. Varus, if we meet again I will not have you be my enemy. I am not a monster like the Blin. I will show you this. Michael doubted that he would ever see that Hylian again but if he did, he'd try his best not to get shot at first. After that, who knows.

    The Lizalfos shook his head to clear his thoughts, his tail mimicking the motions. “I will remember that and stay clear of him in the future. How soon will you be ready to leave? What you've both gone through has been more strenuous than being shot in the shoulder.” Again he touched the wound. “That has merely been physical. The mind is a different matter entirely.” He knew his own injury was nonlethal. After being cleaned and dressed by the healers there was little chance of infection. In a couple days the pain would fade away completely. For now he'd just have to make sure he didn't use his shield arm to much. A good thing it wasn't my sword arm.
     
  9. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    Squamata stared down at her fingers, remembering how they had turned to smoke in that other place. She retraced her journey in her memory, following the owl down and in, until they had come to her homeland. Until she had seen that fire... the flame burning in her place of origin. It called to her still, drew her to it, and she had started the journey into and through it, hadn't she? When this man- Moone, had he said his name was?- had pulled her out with his magic. It pulled her still, wanting to complete the transition- was that it? Was that why she could feel it, even now, beckoning?

    Moone stopped talking, and with a guilty jolt Squamata realized she hadn't been listening to what he'd said. She'd been so caught up in her memories that she hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings. Stupid! She was supposed to be better disciplined than this. She wouldn't admit she'd zoned out, though, so she just hoped he hadn't said anything too important while she'd been distracted. He didn't seem to be waiting for a response, though, so that was good.

    Michael. The first Lizalfos she'd seen since leaving Midoro. Why had he left their ancestral homeland? How did he adapt to this strange nation? Had he experienced the 'all Lizalfos are the same' mentality she'd run into at Rauru? He would be the first cousin she sat down with in weeks. What would she say? Would she tell him about her exile? She wasn't sure.

    Michael responded to whatever Moone had said, and Squamata forced herself to listen attentively. They were talking about the crazy crossbowman. Squamata's blood burned at the thought of him. That surprised her- she hadn't felt any rage towards Moone, but the man with the wolf? He'd nearly shot her, then he'd shot her cousin. He she could be mad at. Moone had saved her, and she hadn't known Moone had nearly killed her until after the fact. This man was different. Michael should steer clear of him, but her? If she saw him, she would teach him to respect her people and not fire at her cousins.

    Squamata tapped her fingers against the scales of her leg. "I'm not sure," she said. "I'm not well enough to travel yet, and there's nowhere I need to be." Not now, anyway... not now that Daman and his crew had left for their important quest without her. A heavy weight settled on her heart. She had been so close to earning back her honor, and a few guards with a grudge against Lizalfos had ended it all. She sighed. "I suppose I'll stay here a while longer. Michael, I'd hear your story. You're the first cousin I've met since leaving Midoro. How long have you been out here, and why did you leave the marshes?"

    Just then, a woman entered the room. She was carrying a tray with a large, steaming bowl of what smelled like barley porridge alongside several smaller bowls stacked into one another. Squamata's attention was immediately drawn by the muscular man standing in the doorframe. He didn't do anything, but his posture was tense as he watched the two Lizalfos. His discomfort was reflected in the woman, whose voice wavered as she addressed the room. "We heard you talking," she said, "so we thought you might like something to eat." She hurried over to Moone, her eyes not meeting Squamata's, and offered him the tray. "I'm not sure," she said, half-turning towards the two Lizalfos, "do your people- do you?" She glanced down at the food. "Ah, well, here it is, anyway."

    ((Feel free to control the NPCs however you see fit))
     
  10. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
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    The great bowl was in his arms before Nathaniel had fully noticed its contents, the bowl at his face as if he could drink the whole thing straight down. His stomach reminded him of how much energy he'd burned, grumbling low like quaking earth. Reluctantly, he set the bowl back down, and served himself a bowl like a civilized person. Granted, he swigged that one down in half a minute and served himself another, but it was the thought that counted. He continued to disregard the spoon on the second bowl, if only because the illusion of civility was already pretty strained. Remarkably, he didn't spill a drop, even as he began to speak between mouthfuls.

    "Forgive me," he said, a slight blush to his cheeks. "I burned through more energy than my body could supply... and it is eager to replace it." He turned to the woman. "I need meat... my body's already begun to convert muscle mass to energy." He rummaged through the bag hanging at the bedpost, and came out with a small satchel. He pulled out a handful of glittering currency. "Take this, and purchase enough roasted meats and vegetables to feed us twice over." He caught her raised eyebrow. "And yes, I do mean all three of us." He said, icy venom in his voice. "We'll take tavern stew if that's all there is at this hour." He handed the handful of rupees to the woman, who began to back out of the room. "You're welcome to the change, for your trouble."

    He took another swig of the thin, lumpy porridge, then turned to the large, nervous man in the doorway. "Be this a hostel or a hospital, they've as much right to be here as you or I." he challenged. He spoke with a master's authority, a talent gleaned from spending near half his life apprenticing. "If you have anything to say, say it now and be done with it."

    The man was mildly taken aback. He hadn't expected the infirm beanpole to be intimidating. But he held his ground. "The guards already threw that one out of town today," he gestured at Squamata. "Having these walking handbags around is only going to bring trouble." Moone's eyes narrowed dangerously, and the air in the room flashed with heat, then seemed to chill. Indeed, the surface of the bowl in his hand began to frost over. The odd thing however, was that it hadn't been water magic... it had been fire. The warmth of the room hadn't disappeared or been overwhelmed, it had been leeched away.

    He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, stabilizing the temperature in the room. Moone looked energized, as indeed he was. It may have been instinctive, but he'd managed to convert some of the heat in the room into energy, stowing a few precious sparks of magic within himself.

    "The White Peace clearly outlines that no sapient creature can be denied emergency aid in dire circumstance, regardless of origin, species, alliance, or legal status. WE have every right to remain here and convalesce until we are able to leave on our own power. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the Order." Moone growled, daring the man to respond. He made to drink from his porridge, and scowled as he found it frozen solid.
     
    #30 Moone, Apr 7, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 7, 2018
  11. Michael Scale

    Michael Scale Goron in disguise
    Lizalfos

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    At Squamata’s question he stood there rather awkwardly. “Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there isn't much to tell. I've spent most of my life in Midoro and only recently ventured out to other parts of Hyrule. In fact this is the first major town I've been in. I-” At this point a woman came in with bowls of food, which was all Michael cared about. Despite eating a couple of hours ago he found that he was already hungry again. He would have had the porridge but when Moone said that he'd pay for meat, well Mike was not nearly hungry enough to eat what was in front of him when he could wait for the good stuff.

    Michael was shocked at the way Moone was defending the Lizalfos. After the cold undertone, which he was disheartened to learn he was growing used to, it was a pleasant change. This is a man who I could learn to live with. It occurred to him that if he was to travel across Hyrule, these two might as well be the people he travels with. Of course he didn't say as much to them now, not when they are still bedridden. But perhaps when they are both healed.

    Mike decided that if he was going to stay here for awhile and wait for the meat, he might as well sit down. He pulled up a stool in front of both beds so that he could see both of them and his tail could swing freely. He thought now might be a good time to continue his story. “As I was saying, I had gotten tired of life in the swamp. My friend Liz,” He looked at Squamata and was about to say, She's a Zora, you know. But then it occurred to him that the other Lizalfos might not think too highly of them so he caught himself. “She decided to stay behind and there was nothing I could do to convince her otherwise. So I left on my own to go explore the rest of the lands. I've never strayed too far from my home so it's very interesting for me seeing all these dry open plains and all the other strange things in Hyrule. How long have you been away?”
     
  12. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
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    Walking handbag? She hadn't heard that one before. Fire stirred in her gut at the insult, but it was a small uprising that soon passed. It was just too weak an insult to anger her, especially after the long day she'd had. The guards back in Rauru had been more clever in their jibes, and they had pissed her off, but this man? Nah. She grinned over at the large human. "He's right," she said. "Don't worry, I don't mean to stick around. Once I can stand without falling over, I'll be gone."

    She didn't know much of the White Peace, but this clause she was familiar with. There had been a high profile case a while back where a Zora from Kasuto had collapsed in the Sept's territory, and the Zora's caravan had cited the White Peace and bullied her and her people into taking the thing in to recover. Squamata had wanted to just toss it in the river and be done. The Zora were fish, they liked that sort of thing, but apparently if they'd refused on account of Zora being the scourge of Midoro they would've pissed off all of Kasuto, and the Sept wanted Hyrule to sympathize with the Lizalfos, not the Zora. It gave her a sense of vicious satisfaction to use that same clause now herself.

    The man grunted and turned to follow after the woman. Squamata called after him. "You should work on your insults more," she said. "Walking handbag? You'd be laughed out of town if you tried that in Midoro. The Zora tadpoles have more bite than you, and they're all gums." The man slammed the door, and Squamata snorted and looked to Moone.

    "I think you may be the first human I've met outside Midoro that hasn't acted like I'm about to skin their nethers," she said. "You're not all bad." Not all good either, he had nearly killed her by accident earlier after all, but anyone who talked like he did wasn't a complete klutz. His commanding tone actually reminded her of the Sept back home. She leaned her head back against the wall again. What a curious feeling, having a human remind her of her Lizalfos comrades. Life out here was certainly strange. Would she ever get used to it?

    She listened to Michael's story and nodded. "Same as you, actually. I've never left Midoro before now. I was a warrior in the Sept." She lifted her chin up. "Fought for the homeland and all. It's... hard to be away. I spent so long working to reclaim the marshes for the Lizalfos, I'm not... really sure what to do now." The words stuck in her throat. She hated that she had to say them, but this was the first time she'd met a kinsman here. And she did have to say them. They bubbled up in her, burned at her, demanding that she let them out. "I... failed. Twice. I embarrassed the Sept, and-" and now I've been thrown out, worthless, honorless, dead weight. Those words she couldn't get out. They were too twisted up inside her, and she didn't know how to untangle the snarls of shame and pain that curled within her. She didn't even know if she could. Finally she managed, "I can only go back if I do something great." She balled her hand into a fist. "Something to bring glory to our people. I don't know what it is yet, but I will find it." She glared at the door. She would redeem herself. She would bring Lizalfos glory. She would not die an honorless exile. Heat flashed through her stomach, literal, burning heat that left her gasping for breath and clutching at her abdomen. It was gone as soon as it had come, leaving her trembling and sweating in its wake.

    "Sorry," she said, coughing to cover up her confusion. What was that? What had just happened? She needed a cover. "Guess I'm just really hungry," she said. "Nearly dying takes a lot out of you. Pass me what porridge is left, would you?" She rushed on, hoping that she could divert attention away from the whatever had just happened. "Moone, why were you in that cave again? I think you mentioned gathering minerals? You're not digging for rupee deposits, are you?"
     
  13. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
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    Moone shook his head, noting the sudden discomfort Squamata was in. "No. Rupees are grown, not mined. There's likely a proprietary mineral formula, but the crystal structures have all the hallmarks of evaporation crystallization over a relatively short period of time. Any alchemist could tell you that... Sussing the formula out is probably some kind of treason though." He leaned back in the bed. "I was collecting alchemical silicates for a batch of Gem Juice, one of my own potion recipes. Flash crystallizes semi-stable mineral formations. Good for improvised weapons, traps, fortifications, path-marking... its a versatile brew. But the moblins really shouldn't have cared, I was just scraping down a rock wall." He blinked. Something twitched in his mind, a forgotten gear rotating into place.

    "Come to think of it... what were so many moblins doing in one place?" He said, suddenly sitting up. "Normally, moblins are pretty solitary. They don't keep territory, they don't gather in great numbers, they just don't care. The only things they're interested in are food and- " He stopped. Slowly, a smirk twisted the edge of his mouth. It soon grew into a smile, and from there into an ear to ear grin. "Treasure." He laughed. "Treasure, its got to be. What else could pack dozens of Moblins into a cave like that? They hate each other almost as much as everyone else does!"

    "Are you two thinking what I'm thinking?"
     
    #33 Moone, Apr 12, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 15, 2018
  14. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    Squamata sat up straighter and grinned too. "Hell yes," she said. "We already killed them- that treasure's just sitting there." She immediately quieted her voice and glanced at the closed door. She didn't want the Lizalfos-hating meatbags hearing about this. She wasn't sure she was up for fighting off a pair of greedy humans. "It's ours by right, after all, and I don't know about you, but I've got nothing in the way of cash." She was a skilled huntress and didn't need to buy her food, but she wasn't just trying to survive out here, she was trying to do Great Things. Great Things likely required Great Wallets to fund them.

    Squamata pushed herself off the bed, steadying herself against the wall. "Screw resting," she said. "Travelers could find that treasure any minute. Let's...." she trailed off as her stomach growled in protest. "After we eat," she said. "They should be back soon with food, after all." She lowered herself slowly back into the bed, secretly relieved at the reason to delay. Part of her burned to go now, to find the treasure now, to jump up and run before someone else beat them to it, but the rest of her, the part of her that was still reeling from almost dying, groaned at the thought of doing anything but sitting still and eating quietly. "What sort of treasure do you think Moblins care about? They don't use rupees, do they?" She'd never seen them shopping in Midoro. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure what they used for currency. Maybe they bartered for their stuff.
     
  15. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
    Hylian

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    "Maybe? They were an army. Armies typically get paid." Moone thought for a moment. "Then again, I've never seen a moblin in a shop, so who knows?" With some effort, he turned his mind to more practical matters. "You may be fine tomorrow, but I need at least a day." He began sorting through his bag. "I don't just need rest, I need to resupply. I need to brew more Blaze Oil, I was low on that when I got into that mess. Also more Rot Glue... or perhaps I'll sit on that formula a while, see about trying something less..." he stopped. "Again, I'm terribly sorry about that. I never tested it in that kind of quantity." He fumbled with the dented flask, the barest whisper of that particular odor wrinkling his nose. He frowned, he sighed, and the gears of his mind cranked to a decision.

    "Its up to you Squamata. If you want, I'll try out one of my more.... experimental formulas. Instead of brewing more Rot-Glue, I mean." It was only fair, after all. After narrowly avoiding an untimely demise, she might be uncomfortable around that particular concoction. And brewing it smelled even worse anyway, so no great loss. "Regardless, I can make plenty of health potion. I could brew that in my sleep. So if you want a couple bottles of that, just bring me a couple of empties.

    The subtle echo of the atrocious adhesive was overwhelmed when door opened, and the woman from before came in bearing a huge tray heaped with steaming food. There were dozens of roast cucco legs, skewers bearing all manner of vegetables seared and drizzled with sauce. There was a pile of beef ribs, each one medium rare and richly spiced. Enough cheese and butter in great, uneven lumps to mortar a house, and a great loaf of dark molasses bread that was broad and heavy enough to bludgeon a goron. Almost as an afterthought, there was a stack of crude wooden plates and a pile of wrought iron cutlery.

    "By the Goddesses..." Moone said, drooling visibly at the feast his now-anemic wallet had wrought. And then the woman smiled, and placed three generous bottles of ale on the table.

    "Will you be needing anything else tonight?" She said. Probably. Moone didn't hear anything over the choir of angels in his own head.
     
  16. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    An army? That was a bit of an exaggeration. There had only been six Moblins. Humans were an odd bunch. She sighed. It was disappointing that Moone wouldn't be ready for another day, but she wasn't in a good enough state to travel on her own, so she would have to wait. Besides, they had won the treasure together. It was only right they share it, and she had absolutely no intention of ever returning to this damn city if she could avoid it, so she couldn't bring him his cut. She tapped her leg impatiently. She'd never been good at waiting. The Sept had been a cult of action, of swift retaliation and an ever-present war against the Zora invaders. She wasn't built for sitting around and waiting. But this wasn't Midoro. Things probably just moved more slowly out here.

    She stared at the flask for a long moment before shaking her head. "No," she said, "the Rot-Glue was an effective weapon. You can't give up a sword just because it happened to cut you." The scent made her panic by association, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. She kept her tone light as she casually leaned her head against the wall. "Just don't throw the bloody thing at me again and we'll be fine." His offer of health potions, though... those would be invaluable. "I can probably scrounge up some empty bottles," she said. "We'll need them, in case we run into more trouble at the cave." Her body would be ready to move before his, and this would provide an excellent distraction to keep her from just sitting around and waiting for him to feel up to getting out of bed.

    The food arrived. Her stomach growled. "No," she told the woman. "We'll let you know if we do." The woman smiled and backed out. She seemed much more friendly now that she'd been paid. She wondered idly if the guards back in Rauru would've been more accommodating if she'd had bags of rupees to spend in the city. Probably not, likely they would've just confiscated her money and left her broke. But she would need to remember this. The money had caused the woman's self-interest to overpower her inborne hatred of Lizalfos and had resulted in her treating Squamata more nicely. Everything she'd seen in Rauru pointed to all humans feeling the same way; if she wanted them to cooperate with her, do things for her, or even just treat her well, she would need to incentivize their good behavior. She didn't have money, but there must be other things humans wanted, things she herself had no need for, things she could use to advance towards her goal of obtaining glory for the Lizalfos and driving the Zora out of Midoro. Perhaps this treasure would do. She couldn't wait to leave this town and go grab it.

    The food was delicious, though oddly spiced and far too dry. She tried to think about other things, but the three things her mind wanted to think on (the treasure, her exile, and her near death experience) were the exact three things that made her most restless and uncomfortable. To give her something to think about, she turned to Moone. "So," she said, "your magic. I know how things are done in the swamps, but what is magic like out here? You used it to revive me, and just now, that cold. Can all Hylians do this thing?"
     
  17. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
    Hylian

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    Moone laughed. It was an altogether odd laugh, equal parts smug and bitter. "No, my magic is unique. Its refined, its efficient, and most magi wouldn't use it you paid them." He cracked open one of the ales. "You see this bottle?" He said after taking a swig. "This bottle represents how much power an average mage can throw around in a day. Every time they cast a spell-" He takes another swig. "They use up a little bit of that power. But that's okay! They've got more!" Again, that odd laugh. He started rummaging through his bag until he came up with a tiny little nodule of metal. It was no bigger than a fingertip... no it was just as big as a fingertip. It was a thimble. With a thumb over the bottle's mouth, and well practiced precision, he filled the thimble with ale, letting any who cared to count the drops it took to fill it to the brim. It wasn't even a spoonful. "And THIS is what I get to work with. This is all the arcane power my body is capable of storing. He toasted Squamata with the thimble, sipped it empty and dropped it back in his bag.

    "Most magic is much less elegant than they'd have you believe. Brute force energy application. Anyone else who had to keep you alive would have dumped raw spirit magic into you until you woke up, or decanted some poor bottled fairy to do the same. I am forced to apply my magic with more forethought." He ripped off a great chunk of bread, sliced it in half, and began to assemble a sandwich. "Take the spell I used to keep you alive for example. I call it 'Sympathetic Resuscitation.' Essentially, I co-opted some of your bodies own systems. I supplied your heart with the energy to beat using the same conduits your body does, and used my own heart to keep time. Effective and efficient, most magi could keep it up almost indefinitely, and it still made me burn physical reserves." He sighed. "And most magi won't learn it because the brute force method is faster and easier, even if it wouldn't always work." The room was quiet for a moment as Moone relished his sandwich. "When it comes to magic, Squamata, I'm the punchline to a cosmic joke." He laughed at this... but it wasn't bitter like the last. No this was a low, quiet chuckle, smug and proud. "Unfortunately for the cosmos, I took it as a challenge."
     
  18. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    Squamata nodded. "You're weak. Like a warrior who can't build muscle but still insists on fighting, so you rely on finesse and skill." She couldn't relate too well to this, but female Lizalfos were smaller than male Lizalfos, and she'd been forced to rely on speed and accuracy on the mats to compete with her male kin. In this way she could understand what he meant, though the difference between him and his peers was obviously much greater than between her and the males of her race. "It sounds like magic is practiced differently out here," she said. "Brute force energy application, dumping raw magic into someone," she shook her head. "These do not sound like the rituals of my people." It shouldn't be surprising that magic was done strangely out here, not when everything else was so alien to her. Yet it was another piece of the world that she would have to relearn out here, another hammer for culture shock to pound her over the head with and make her dizzy. She would have to learn more.

    But there was clearly more to the story. She took a sip of her own drink. "Regardless, your skill saved my life. Weak or not, you are still capable. How did you overcome this challenge?"
     
  19. Moone

    Moone Eccentric Inventor
    Hylian

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    "I've invented more potions than most alchemists have learned to brew." Moone grinned. "I'm not pretending they all work, but I've tried more than most dare to risk, and I'm only just getting started. Necessity is the mother of invention, and the two are my closest family." The food had done him good, and he found the strength to stand. He stood stiffly, almost limping as he walked, but he still began to pace. The motion was a familiar lubricant to the gears of his mind, and much welcomed in spite of the discomfort.

    "Most alchemists learn whats profitable and stop. Potions, lamp oil, bombs, maybe some obscure specialty product... there's surprisingly little study and development. I've found no less than three recipes for waterproof bombs, spread out across thirty years or so, all claiming to have invented them." He sighed. "Everyone's always looking out for number one, and if alchemists as a whole were just a little more forward thinking the world would be a drastically different place." His voice was bitter, and he looked lost in thought for a moment. Thought or memory.

    "Your question is the answer. Were I not challenged I would never have come this far. I'd have been just another forgotten scholar of magic learning the same things from the same books and doing the same nothing with it." He smiled, and began messing with the feast, scraping herbs off of the roast meat, mashing a seared tuber into paste, eyeing the level of ale that remained in his bottle as if to measure it. It looked at once childlike and scholarly. "There is magic in everything, Squamata. Either energy or properties. That's how alchemy works." He began scraping things into the bottle from the crude plate, starting with the herbs. He held the bottle strangely, its base resting in his palm. As the bewildering display continues, the ale within begins to boil.

    "The same energies applied to different reagents produce different effects. One ingredient could be the difference between a lifesaving medicine and a deadly toxin." He added the tuber paste, and the mixture began to smell strange. Different then the sum of its parts. It was a clean scent, almost like the scent that follows rain. He dropped in a single clean picked bone that barely fit down the neck of the bottle, and the mixture seemed to eat it hungrily, reducing it to powdery dregs at the bottom of the bottle. The energy in his hand changed, a different magic steeped into the brew as he stirred it with one of the skewers. The room began to smell oddly like fresh fruit. Slowly, quietly, almost unnoticed, the skewer was consumed by the mixture.

    "I overcame the challenge," he began as he corked the bottle and shook it. "Because I had a challenge to overcome." He tapped the bottle with a knife, but it didn't sound like glass. It rang like a crystal bell and glowed with a bright amber light as it did so, the light and sound spreading from the point of impact and fading as one into a dark liquid. He popped the cork, drank deeply, and offered: "Wine?"
     
    #39 Moone, Apr 26, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 26, 2018
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  20. Squamata

    Squamata Honorless Warrior
    Lizalfos

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    This was more like it! Squamata grinned and swiped the bottle. "I'll drink to that," she said, raising it in a toast before taking a long swig from the bottle. It burned on its way down, a glorious fire that settled in her stomach and warmed her. "That's good," she said, handing it back. "What you said about alchemy, it reminds me of home. All that stuff about magic being everywhere. The shamans used to say things like that before doing their rituals." The strange movements, the powders and gestures, recalled to her the procedures of her people. Maybe things weren't so different out here after all. It lifted her spirits to think that, though that may have been an effect of the alcohol. Did it matter? She felt better regardless.

    "I respect you for your struggle," she said. "People grow complacent and fat when life gets too easy. You were born weak, and it inspired you to fight. There is much honor in facing a challenge and proving yourself superior, especially if you bring your people glory in the process." She picked up another piece of meat and ripped off a piece with her teeth. Through the mouthful of meat she asked, "if you could change things, make it so that your magic wasn't so small, would you do it? Would you change your past?"
     

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