Legends of Hylia: Conclusion of Perpetuity


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Leia
MENTIONS || @Verran



FESTIVAL
Considering the sensitive nature of the person she was looking for, Leia found as she left Aedris's side and began her search, she wasn't quite as confident in her ability to suss out the boy's location as she initially supposed. The market was slowing, most patrons no doubt on their way to watch the archery contest, but she still wasn't comfortable approaching anyone to ask if they'd seen the young prince. Knowing he was missing was alarming, but knowing she could potentially put him in worse danger was all the more unnerving. Truth be told, she was downright terrified. It wasn't her area of expertise, finding missing children, and should she fail, she couldn't imagine there would be no consequences.

What would her father think? Her running around like she was some sort of authority on the subject. He'd say 'Books, Leia, my Bell. Books are where the likes of us abide. Not rushing about out there, daring and wild. Leave the heroics for kings and soldiers.' And he'd be right. Yet here she was, scouring stalls in desperate urgency, to find a young boy she'd never once met. A boy who very well might've been kidnapped or worse... and she with books and clever words...

"Miss! Miss!" A voice called from another stall, and looking up, Leia expected to ward off another barker, only to find herself staring dumbstruck into what was easily the eeriest face she'd ever encountered. For a moment, glanced about, thinking perhaps the man had been calling someone else, but instead, he continued with a grating smile that drew to mind one of the paper doll marionettes she'd seen in a puppet show as a child, "You look like you are looking for something! Perhaps I can help you find it."

From his booth, he produced a package, laying it down. It was rapped in ragged cloth and looking at it, Leia found herself dumbstruck with confusion.

With a gesture, the man went on, "Yours. For free. You'll need it. But...keep it hidden."

You'll need it...

An unbidden shiver traced along her back, and twisting around, she looked to see if they were alone. As she turned about again, she found the man's both closed up, the package sitting alone and untouched. "Si-sir?"

But he didn't return, and the longer she stood there, the more uneasy she felt. Stepping closer, she touched a hand to the package, carefully pushing aside the wrapping. Red ink splashed across a familiar triangular shape, a pattern unmistakable from the books she had devoured as a child. Her heart hammered, and swiftly, without meaning to, she scooped it up. Frantically looking about, she turned to her own booth where she had left her belongings, and crossing the market, she scooped up her haversack. A small bedroll was tucked atop, a cast iron pan hanging from its side. Inside were the books she hadn't sold, some writing materials and the box she never left home without. Swiftly, shuffling these things aside, she jammed the mask, still wrapped tightly, into the bag. As she pulled the drawstring tight, a scream ripped through the silence of the market and with a clatter, the bag fell from her grasp. Without thinking, Leia spun around.

"Aedris..." She gasped, and bending, scooping her bag onto her shoulders, she tore off in the direction of the archery contest.

"Where. Are. You. Heading. Girl?" Skidding to a abrupt stop, Leia met the figure as he stepped from the nearest alley. He wore a hood, his appearance unnaturally shrouded, his voice clipped, like one not used to speaking or new to it... a chilling quality. Instinctively, her fingertips curled around the cast iron skillet, and not a second too soon did she bring it before her, as a knife flew, without warning, from the hooded figure's grasp. With a clang, then a clatter, it fell to the ground and not stopping long enough to swat a gnat, she tore off in the opposite direction.
 
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Abokk couldn't remember what he was talking to Adam about. Perhaps they were rethinking their strategy on learning spirit magic? Perhaps they were wondering who the tall stranger was? Perhaps they were looking for an older Gerudo? There was a man who was calling out for Adam but before Abokk could take notice of anything he heard screaming. He felt tensed as he jumped out of his seat and looked around for danger. Hooded people, possibly Hylian, were attack people throughout the stands.

"Adam, go to your friend! We need to get out of here!"

The man didn't seem to move at first, or at least he wasn't moving fast enough to Abokk's liking. Knowing how dangerous hesitation was Abokk pushed Adam out of his set and towards his attendant. Already Abokk was trying to think of how he would escape from the massacre. If the attackers were brave enough to attack so close to the royal family than no place in Castle Town was safe. He could try to run to the gates before any draw bridges were closes but then he would be alone. Being alone was nothing new to Abokk but Adam had helped him earlier. He had to make sure Adam was safe and if he really was nobility, that probably meant his family had some defenses. Adam would be safe with his family and Abokk would stick with him at least until he was reunited with them.

Navigating through the panic crowds was hellish as the three of them were push at every side by panicked people running over each other trying to escape. Some people had blood on them, but it was impossible for Abokk to tell if it was their own or from someone else. His head was constantly moving, trying to spot one of the hooded figures. He caught a glimpse of one somewhere in the crowd heading towards them. Stepping away from the group Abokk unsheathed his sword and slashed at the stranger as they raised their danger. Abokk was aiming to knock the weapon out of his hand but he accidentally slashed off the man's hand. This didn't seem to bother the lunatic as he charged at Abokk and grabbed the Rito's throat with his remaining hand. The hooded man then wrapped his bloody stump of an arm around Abokk's sword arm trying to prevent him from landing another blow. Abokk screeched in horror and shock and kicked the man with his sharp talons. The man staggered back, but something seemed...unnatural about him.

He was missing a hand and had just received terrible slashes to his chest. He should be laying on the ground in pain, but this man did not react to his injuries at all. It was as if he were a possessed manikin. He tried to charge at Abokk again but Abokk swung his sword at him and the stranger fell to the ground. Abokk wasn't sure if he was truly dead or if he had been disabled from all his injuries. The crowd had briefly dispersed to avoid the fight but it was quickly returning and Abokk had to move on. He was separated from Adam and tried calling out to him in the crowd but everyone else seemed to be calling out for their lost friends and family members too.
 
Aedris chalked up the manner of the strange fellows to being foreign zealots. Afterall, Hyrule was a land filled with strange peoples and creatures who spoke at least some variety of languages. It would be foolish to think that his tongue was the only tongue spoken and that everyone would speak it perfectly. After all, he could hardly begin to write his own language. Undoubtedly, said likely zealots were perfectly well-written and well-spoken in their own lingo. Clearly.

No, actually, what in the name of the Goddesses, was that! He thought a mere instant later. Aedris had smelled a variety of rotten things in his lifetime. Hox, the garbage in alleys, himself were just a few examples. But most pertinent was the smell of Lawdris after he died. It was deep in the alleys, so the body had been allowed to fester before Aedris had stumbled upon the corpse as a teen. A putrid stench ravaged his nostrils as he beheld his acquaintance, driving him stumbling back. The then teen had no idea what to do, so he did what he had always done. He ran away. Leaving the body to continue to rot.

This was no different, except that the rot was walking. Talking. There was something horrendously wrong about that. And the creepy cultists were looking for someone. Someone who seemed to look like him. Aedris immediately began to tail them. He, himself, had been tailed enough times to at least have some idea how to do it right. Fortunately, given how ostentatious they were dressed, keeping his distance was easy. Whoever these cultists were looking for was in trouble. Whoever they were looked at least somewhat like him but, beyond the delightful pallor of his skin, plenty of people looked somewhat like him. Which meant that his best bet of finding the person in question was to follow the people looking for them. Not that he forgot the quest to look for the young prince. Certainly not. But given how shaky any lead he could formulate on the boy was, there wasn’t any better way than looking for the prince was keeping his own head up.

Then the screaming started.

Immediately, the spooky cultists stopped being strange and turned murderous. Slashing with sudden blades at everyone in the crowds. He had no idea why he did it. Had no idea what he was doing. But Aedris rushed forward. With reflexes born of life on the streets, his hand shot out. Grasping the wrist of a rotting cultist as it tried to being a wicked knife slashing down upon a frozen bystander. Fortune was, of course, against Aedris as one of the hooded compatriots of the foe snapped towards him. Lashing out with a knife of its own.

Adrenaline slowed time as Aedris’s eyes widened at the oncoming attack. Raising a warding hand and twisting away. The last two flowers, the first two flowers, of the day so far spidered down his wrist and unleashed an explosive punch of pollen. It had absolutely no affect. The waling corpse, incapable of breathing, let alone coughing, plowed on with its attack. Not for the first time in his life, blood erupted across Aedris’s chest as the knife skittered across his ribs.

Staggering back, the young man’s survival instincts kicked in. And he ran. Aedris shot away from the commotion. Unsure if one of the creatures were rushing behind him. He ran with the panicking crowd for nigh on ten seconds before two thoughts brought him to a skidding halt. Leia! The Prince!

Aedris had no plan. Had no time to even begin thinking how he could help. But he turned back. Ready to run back. Only to find that, right in front of him, was a creepy cultist with a bloody knife. He then thought the one thing that was a signal that he hadn’t been paying proper attention to his surrounding: ah, interesting.

Mentioned: @Elle Joyner and the Prince Team
 
Cyril and his father found their seats in the stands as the archery event drew near. Despite his earlier griping about Roscoe attending the competition, Cyril wouldn't miss his brother participating and showing off his archery skills for anything, even for a few wooden figurines. The day had gone well; they were able to sell quite a bundle of the figurines and tools. With the various types of visitors to such a celebration, there were many who enjoyed the little souvenirs and crafstmen or farmers or any other labor workers who took interest in their tools that might make their jobs easier. When the noon bell first tolled, Mr. Sherwood was insistant on closing up shop so that they may see Roscoe's performance, and Cyril agreed. They made sure to lock everything up properly and now here they were, ready to watch the event unfold before them.

Except that as Cyrils eyes went over the spots in which the attendant archers were supposed to take their places, he could not see his brother. He frowned and stood up in his seat, trying to spot the red-feathered head of his brother, but there was no sign of him. A frustrated sigh passed through his beak as he sat back down in his seat, shaking his head irritably. "Where is he? He said he was going to join the competition! I told him not to wander too far! Now he's going to miss it."

His father only chuckled, not seeming concerned at all. "That's your brother alright. Something must of preoccupied him. It must be pretty important if it was enough to keep him from an archery competition."

Cyril could only shake his head. "What could be so important as to-"

He was cut off at the sound of the final noon bell and the competition began at last. For a bit, the only sounds were the loose arrows as they flew through the air and began hitting their targets. Cyril watched this and could only think about how Roscoe missed the competition and now they were watching this for no reason when they could be back at their stand selling more of their inventory. He was just about to suggest this to his father when a blood-curdling scream erupted from the audience around them. Both father and son were on their feet with wide, startled eyes as they tried to pinpoint where the scream came from, but as soon as one ended another erupted, and soon the whole place was filled with terrifying screams. It took a second to locate the source but they spotted it: Cloaked figures were brandishing weapons and slashing at people who were closest to them: Rito, Hylians, Goron, everyone! Cyril could scarcely believe his eyes! He was suddenly shoved as people tried to get away from their attackers and there was screaming everywhere, and Cyril became aware that among the stench of blood there was something else that was putrid and heavy, like the stench of rot. As he and his father tried to get away from the panicking crowd, only one thought erupted in his head.

"Roscoe!"

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Roscoe's eyes lit up as the young boy took the sword from his hands and looked to be honored with such a gift. A part of Roscoe had been worried that the boy would see through his ruse and demand for his wish yet he held the sword as though it were the actual thing. He watched as the boy lifted the sword to the sky, a pose that Roscoe was instantly familiar with, and suddenly it was like the boy transformed before his eyes. As Roscoe gazed upon the young boy before him, suddenly he was hit with the image of the Hero himself, standing in his heroic stance with the Master Sword lifted high that could vanquish all evil. His beak dropped at the majestic, the brilliance, the beauty of it all. The celebration was lost around them and it was like they were back in time, years and years and years ago at the beginning of the stories he had always read about, had always dreamed about, and he was standing in the presence of the hero himself. The playful boy from earlier was gone and in his place stood the heroic icon that Roscoe had thought was only a story or just a ghostly resemblance in the current Prince Link.

Then just like that, the image was gone when the boy brought down the sword to face imaginary moblins. Roscoe snapped back to reality and he stared at the boy play fighting and he could still see traces of the earlier image hang around the boy as he fought bravely against the hoard of pretend monsters that surrounded him. He found himself still in quite a daze from it that it took his mind a moment to catch up to what the boy just told him. Tell his father what?

He blinked as the boy turned and began to rush away and he quickly got to his feet, "Uh, wait! Excuse me!" He stumbled after the boy, still trying to brush away the image and keep up with what the boy was telling him. "Um hold on, I-I didn't say-"

Did he say his name was Gus?

Roscoe stopped in his tracks, his beak falling once more and the image from before came back in full force. Gus. The Gus. Prince Gus. The son of Princess Zelda and Prince Link. This whole time, Roscoe had been escorting the young prince himself. No, not escorting, playing with the prince! He should have taken the prince straight to his parents right away! This wasn't just some random boy he found, this was the young prince! What would the guards think?! He had kidnapped the prince!

His mind was reeling that he could barely stand on his feet and all that came out of his beak was a bunch of none sense, "Um...I...you...we...y-y-y-you... Sword... Fox guy... Game... Uh... Um..."

He had to slap himself to get his head in the game. His name was Roscoe. He came here for the celebration with his brother and father. He was going to attend the archery competition. He found Prince Gus and they played a game. He has to take Gus back to his family. As luck would have it, he was talking about going to his father right now. Yes! This was good! He will take him to his father. Yes. Excellent.

Roscoe never noticed the hooded figure heading towards them as he knelt down in front of Gus once more, trying to contain all of his excitement as he smiled at the young prince. "It's very nice to meet you, Pri-I mean, Gus. My name is Roscoe." He took the young boy's hand and shook it. "You're right, we should definitely find your father and-"

Screams.

Roscoe turned his head sharply towards the sound, startled that something so terrible could erupt so suddenly in a place such as this, his eyes looking out towards the crowd that had gathered around for the archery competition. What was-

Prince Gus was suddenly pulled away from his hand and Roscoe turned his head in time to see something sharp and glistening aiming right towards him. He didn't even have time to think. He fell backward just as the sword swung barely a centimeter from the tip of his beak, his reflection staring back at him from the flat of the blade, then he caught himself by pressing the flat of his feathered hand on the ground behind him and performed an elegant backflip once the sword sailed passed. As his taloned feet landed on the ground, he saw that a cloaked black figure had hold of Gus and he was currently wielding a sword in his hand. The figure was not letting the boy go no matter how hard he struggled.

"Um, excuse me?" Roscoe spoke up, not quite ready to believe that this person just tried to kill him. He must be part of the guards had must have thought he was hurting the prince. "Look, I'm sorry, I meant no harm. I was just about to escort him back to his father so there's no need for violence. Um..." He looked uncomfortably at Gus as the poor boy continued to struggle. "Do you mind letting him go? You're holding awfully tight..."

The hooded figure's grip only seemed to tighten on the boy's arm to the point of bruising. "May. Be. The. One." The figure then lifted his other arm to point sword towards Roscoe. "You. Must. Die."

Then the stench hit him. It was absolutely terrible. If Roscoe could scrunch up his nose he would but his eyes watered and he had to resist the urge to cover his beak. It was finally just hitting him that something was wrong as the figure charged towards him, dragging Gus with him, and Roscoe didn't like that. He quickly moved to unsling his bow, rolling out of the way as the figure's sword came down, then it came back up in an arch as Roscoe rolled back on his feet before doing a little twirl around the figure to avoid the sword once more, his hand reaching back to unclip the cap to his quiver and grab an arrow. As the hooded figure turned around and slashed out his sword once more, Roscoe jumped back out of the way just in the nick of time, the sword tip mere inches from his throat. As soon as Roscoe landed on his feet he knocked his arrow, braced his feet, aimed, then fired.

The arrow embedded itself deep into the dark shadow of the figure's hood, his head knocking back from the force of the strike, and Roscoe was sure he just killed him. His hands and legs were trembling now as he waited for the figure to let Gus go and fall. But...it didn't. It simply lowered its head back down and came at Roscoe again as if nothing had happened. Roscoe stood there in absolute shock, his beak dropping for the third time that day. That was impossible!

Then the pain came. The shock of it all had been enough to stun Roscoe where he had been running on adrenaline this whole time and he had still been in close proximity of the hooded figure that he was still in attacking range. When the figure had brushed off his arrow to the face, it came at Roscoe with its sword raised and poised to stab. With Roscoe stunned as he was he had no time to get out of the way, only noticing at the last second. He moved to dodge to the side but it was too late. The sword cut into his leg, most likely in an effort to slow Roscoe down, and the Rito fell to the ground as blood ran down his talons.

Now Roscoe was scared. He had never been in danger before, at least, not in danger like this. He had encountered dangerous situations during his travels but with how peaceful everything was, he never had to fight for his life. Yet here he was, on the ground with some of his arrows scattered and his bow clutched tightly in his hand, his leg burning and bleeding. He was in such a vulnerable position and he was sure that the figure was about to stab him with its sword and end it all. And he was too scared to do anything about it.

But then he heard Gus. He was not sure what it was, whether it was his name or a cry of pain or something, but Roscoe heard him. The stranger still had him in its clutches and once it was done with Roscoe, there was no telling what it would do with Gus. Then Roscoe wasn't scared anymore.

This had all happened in a split second. The instant he heard Gus, Roscoe grabbed an arrow and turned on his back, letting out a furious cry as he aimed and fired at the figure standing before him. But he didn't stop there. He grabbed one arrow after another, firing as quickly as he could grab them, the force of the arrows at such a close range being enough of a driving force to keep the figure back and from stabbing him even though the figure was not bleeding and wasn't shrieking in pain. Finally, after his fifth arrow, the monster's hold on Gus came loose.

Roscoe rolled onto his feet and grabbed Gus's hand. "Run!" And he pulled Gus along with him as they ran away from the hooded figure. He dared not look at his leg and he begged for it not to give out even though it burned and screamed in pain. He knew he wouldn't be able to go far with it but he didn't dare slow down now, not when he could hear the hooded figure close behind them.

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@Red Thunder @Anyone else

 
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A wild collab appeared!

Participants: @Red Thunder @Elle Joyner

∆V∆V∆V∆

Fear was a rabid dog, nipping and biting at her heels. Leia was short, but swift, and she'd put a little bit of distance between herself and the hooded menace, but she could still hear screaming all around, and the scent of rotting had filled the air with such an alarming rate. There was no telling how many of the strange beings there were, but there was absolute certainty their intentions were hostile. But what those intentions were was a dark and disturbing mystery.

Racing along the alley ways, Leia's heart pounded as her eyes clouded with tears of panic. Ahead of her, seen a moment too late, two figures appeared and as she streaked to a halt. A hooded fiend was being pummeled with arrows as a large, brightly colored Rito called to the third unseen figure. Then, from the folds of the hooded man's arraignments came a small child...

An instinct took her. Fury struggled up within her belly, a quiet rage that intensified at the look of fear in his precious face. The boy raced towards the rito and as he did, Leia raised her cast iron pan over her head and hurled it with effective force at the cloaked figure’s shrouded face.

“Do NOT touch him, you blighted miscreation!”

The rapidity with which the arrows had struck the fiend's head had given the figure pause. Free hand clutching the side of its head, as if in response to an incredible headache, it had taken another two steps forward. It's face remained obscured, but its invisible gaze still appeared to follow Gus as the boy sprinted back toward the safety of his Rito companion.

It's knife was still raised in preparation for another assault when a force stuck the side of its hood. There was a discordant harmony: the cast iron ringing dully on impact, and the sharp crack of snapping bone. The hood slumped to the side, away from Leia, as if something heavy pulled on the fabric, and the body collapsed.

At the young woman's shout, Gus had slowed, curiosity getting the better of his terror. He was an anchor to Roscoe as the Rito tried to flee, and while the boy was never going to be able to stop him entirely, Gus still resisted, if only minorly.

"Wooow," the boy whispered, eyeing their defeated enemy with wide eyes.

Roscoe was in absolute terror like a wounded prey running from the predator. Blood rushed into his ears as his heart pounded in his chest with only one thought coursing through his mind: Run. He only wanted to pull the small boy somewhere to safety and away from these monsters that apparently didn’t die, or at least, not by any normal means. How could he possibly face up against anything such as that?

With his mind so set on his goal to flee he nearly missed what was going on behind him: He heard a woman’s shout followed by a very audible crack. Roscoe probably would have kept running if it weren’t for the slight pull of the boy’s arm as he held his hand that made him pause and turn towards the scene. There, in all her absolute glory, was their rescuer. Roscoe had turned just in time to see the figure fall with a pan falling to the ground beside it, clanking as it bounced off the ground barely an inch before settling back down. The Rito was a statue with wide eyes as he stared, almost waiting for the hooded figure to stand back up again, yet the fabric of its cloak hardly even moved.

The adrenaline all up to that point seemed to leave Roscoe instantly at that moment. He was trembling and he didn’t realize that he was holding Gus close to him. He could feel the full torrent of the burning pain in his leg while all sounds around him seemed to erupt in full force as he became in tune to his surroundings once more. He still did not let Gus go, keeping him close by as his gaze moved to their rescuer.

“Th-thank you,” he finally managed to say.

Staring in wide eyed shock, her hand still outstretched as if in mid-throw, Leia watched the hooded deformity collapse, breathing out an exhale that sounded more akin to a sob. He was safe. The little boy was safe. For now, anyway, and whatever repercussions would come from her actions were well worth it. At the boy’s exclamation, she finally let her arm drop and looking to the rito, shook her head, “N-no thanks needed… There may be more.”

Stepping tentatively forward, grateful that it had rolled back and away from the body, rather than settling near it, Leia scooped her pan up again, “We need to get him to safety.” Looking to the boy, trying her best to conceal the panic still welling within her, she forced a tight lipped smile, “What’s your name, dear?”

The child in question still stared wide eyed at the fallen figure before him. His breath was deep and measured, as if he were trying to keep himself from panicking. And there was little panic in his face. More a tentative curiosity, like a kitten scared by a loud noise yet drawn to the strangeness of whatever made it. At Leia's inquiry, he started.

"Oh! Uh, Gus, ma'am." His eyes flashed to her before drifting back to the pile of robe and hood. "Yah think he's- yah know: dead?"

For all his inquiry, Gus still held tightly to Roscoe's hand. And to the wooden sword.

The moment the young woman gazed at Gus with such tenderness and care, Roscoe took an immediate liking to her and visibly relaxed. Here was someone he knew would not harm the boy. She had taken on a foul being who couldn’t die with nothing more than a frying pan! Now here she was, making sure that the boy was ok and her main concern was to get the boy to safety. With all that had happened and the excitement from it all dying down a bit, Roscoe was starting to be at a loss on what to do but to have someone here who seemed to be thinking clearly helped to clear his own mind.

Roscoe glanced towards the figure on the ground and had some doubts if it was truly dead or not. The boy was far too young to be witnessing such violent acts but there was not much that could be done about it. Instead of answering the boy’s question he decided to divert from it and focus on the main problem at hand.

His gaze returning to the young lady he spoke in a much more calmer manner, “My name is Roscoe Sherwood. Um...I believe this to be the young Prince Gus,” he mentioned in case it did not come across as clear to her, “You’re right, we should return him to his father….”

He trailed off as realization dawned on him. His father! His brother! They were out there right now, perhaps fighting for their lives just as he had to moments before. Were they alright? They would be in the square in the midst of all this. Panic began to seep in once more and, but for a moment, he was tempted to rush away and abandon the boy to this woman so that he may seek out his own family. But he forced his mind to still and his heart rate to calm down.

No, he couldn’t do that to Gus. Though he was sure the woman wouldn’t hurt him, what kind of impact would that have on such a young mind? To go through something so terrible such as this then have his guardian up and leave him. Though Roscoe was full of anxiety for his family, he had to trust that they could take care of themselves while he and this woman try to get Gus to his own family. Right now, he needed him more.

He released Gus’s hand at last only briefly to kneel down and take a look at his leg. There was a lot of blood but the cut itself wasn’t too deep, though it would certainly be a hindrance if he wasn’t careful. “I believe his family may still be in the Square with the archery competition.” Roscoe explained as he tore off a piece of fabric he kept in his satchel and began to bound his leg.

Gus…

“By the goddesses…” With a small bubbling sound of fighting back a sob, Leia crouched beside the rito in front of the small boy, “...Little darling, I know someone who is very worried about you. She sent me and my friend Aedris to look for you. I’m Leia, and if you two would follow me, I can take you to Impa.” Looking over to Roscoe, then back over her shoulder to the fallen figure, she frowned, “I’m not sure I want to know if he’s… It doesn’t matter. There will likely be more coming, so we’ve a need for has--”

Her eyes connected with the rito again as he fussed with his leg and eyes slightly wider, Leia gasped, “You’ve been hurt. Oh, I’m rubbish for not noticing. Well… hold on then, I think I can help, before you go and wrap it.”

Shifting her bag around, she rustled around inside it for a moment, before coming free with a small wooden box. Pushing it open, she hemmed in thought, and eventually came away with a small vial, filled with an odd yellowish liquid, “A topical mushroom compound, with a bit of herbs… Should dull any pain, and take down swelling.”

"Impa? What?!" The name evidently carried weight in the boy's mind. Gus, free of Roscoe's hand as the poor Rito tried to self-bandage before Leia got involved, backed up a step or two and shook his head. His brow was furrowed, and he frowned. "She'll keep me in my room! She'll never let me have adventures! And the Keaton..."

His voice trailed off, defeat seeping into his frame. The promise of adventure, met so quickly with what seemed to be fulfillment of that promise, only to have it yanked away again. Shoulders slumped, Gus leaned back against the stone wall behind him, never minding the rough texture's effect on his expensive white tunic. What adventures could he have, trapped behind castle walls, supervised by a bitter and cynical nurse? He could only sigh, and a tear traced a line down his cheek.

"I don't wanna go to the castle…"

Roscoe’s attention was diverted from the wound to his leg to the woman once more. She offtered a strange yellow tonic from her bag that would certainly have set Roscoe’s suspicion rising if it were not for the fact that she had saved both his and young Gus’s life. As it was he was very grateful to have someone here who was familiar with such things and could help with his leg. He didn’t want his wound to slow them down in the least though, if the situation called for it, he would insist that they go on without him and leave him behind if his wound showed any signs of slowing them down.

“Thank you.” Roscoe gratefully took the tonic from her and did the best he could to clean the blood away from his wound before he would gently-and carefully-pour the medicine onto his wound. He flinched at the sudden sting of it but almost instantaneously the burning pain soothed into a dull ache and then a throb until he couldn’t feel the pain any longer.

He cast the young woman a kind and grateful look once more as he handed back her vial and proceeded to wrap his leg. As he did so he turned his gaze upon the young prince and was amazed that he could still think of adventure after what had just happened to them. Such was the imagination of children, he supposed, who always hungered for new things. To see the boy so crestfallen, however… It pulled at his heartstrings. The boy honestly didn’t seem to wish to return to the castle to the point of tears. Was life as a prince really so bad? Roscoe thought about a life within the castle if he could never venture outside of it and began to understand the pain in which Gus must be feeling: It must be suffocating to be trapped within walls and never see what lay beyond the walls that trapped this city from the wilderness beyond.

His leg bound and secured now, Roscoe stood up and placed a feathered hand upon Gus’s shoulder. “Young Adventurer,” he soothed, kneeling down to be eye level with the boy, “the call of adventure never dies. If it is your true calling then no walls nor man or beast could contain you. Perhaps not now but, one day, you will have your grand adventure.”

He gently wrapped his feathered fingers around the boy’s hand that clutched the sword so that he may lift it up. “But right now you have a very important quest: To seek out and save Impa! Then return her to your father! There is danger and we must find your guardian and get you back to your father safely. They will need you. Now more than ever.”

He stood back up then and looked at the young woman. “I will be grateful for your assistance, miss Leia. You said you could take us to Lady Impa?”

“Roscoe here is right, young Gus.” Smiling gently, though still edged in uneasiness, Leia pushed herself back to her feet and held out a hand to the rito to help him up, “I didn’t start my adventures until just a few years ago. And if you’re anything at all like your father, and your mother for that matters, I imagine you’ll have a lifetime of wonderful journeys ahead of you. But right now, the most important journey is getting you safe and sound.” Looking again to Roscoe, she nodded, “Of course I’ll help. I was to meet Impa at the fountain in the square. I’m not sure… considering what’s happening if she’ll still be there, but that might be the best place to start.”

And it was where she’d said she’d meet Aedris…

The robe shifted.

Gus was not having any of his new guardians' encouragement. He stared at the ground, apparently trying to bore a Goron dwelling deep into it. A razor thin line had replaced his mouth, and though his cheeks were damp with the few tears that had managed to squeeze out, his face was hard and resolute. His fingers tightened on his wooden sword.

"No," he said, frighteningly calm. "If Impa gets me, I'll never have an adventure. Not until I'm an old man. I'm a 'True Warrior', right? Gonna have an adventure, then, before I get old."

Pulling his shoulder away from Roscoe's grip, Gus sprinted off in that slippery way only a young child can manage. Arms pumping, he ran- right for the mound of cloth that had once attacked them.

The robes twisted in sudden fury, filling the air with the sharp sounds of snapping and cracking. Gus, apparently oblivious, raised his wooden toy to deliver a killing blow. A gloved hand, heretofore hidden in the cloak, shot out, clasping the kid's tunic at the lapel. Slowly, the figure rose once more, and Gus, held in a vice like grip, rose with it.

The hood had not lifted and remained shifted to the figure's shoulder. Now exposed, a cold blue light gazed at the Rito and the Hylian from within bleach white eye sockets. Bits of flesh still clung to the bone, and the rancid odor that the hood had more or less contained was now unleashed. It filled the small alleyway, churning the stomach, and Gus gagged.

But he didn't scream. The child never screamed. His small fists smashed at the larger hand holding him, to no avail, and his legs lashed out, seeking contact with the thing's arm. The undead eyes never gave it consideration. Instead, its rictus grin remained focused on Roscoe and Leia.

"Follow. And. The. Child. Dies."

As if to enforce the threat, it lifted its knife toward the boy's throat. The point of it made contact, and was suddenly tinted red.

And Gus began to cry.

Without another word, the corpse, the Stalfos, turned and stalked away.

It all happened so fast.

It seemed like things were finally turning in Roscoe’s favor. He had a companion to help him out so that he didn’t have to figure out everything on his own and the child’s life wouldn’t solely be in his hands. They had a goal: To seek out Impa and Leia’s friend, which meant more allies, and Gus would be safe. He could hand Gus over to their care and seek out his own family. Gus would be safe and no longer at risk with these terrible monsters rushing about.

But the boy was not satisfied with this. Convinced that his life as an adventurer would be over if he returned, the boy slipped out of the Rito’s grasp, catching him by surprise. So far the boy had been so compliant with Roscoe and enjoying his company that Roscoe never suspected he would pull away from his hold. The boy was running towards the pile of robe and flesh and only just caught the sight of movement within the cloak and Roscoe’s hand reached out to grab the boy.

“Wai-”

Too late. The figure-monster-whatever it was snatched the boy up like he was nothing. The figure stood with a crooked neck and, for the first time, Roscoe was able to behold what lay underneath. A cold shiver ran through his body as those cold blue eyes that stared straight at him, freezing him in place, as if daring him to move. Roscoe probably would have if it were not for the blade that was pressed against Gus’s throat. Only then did the child cry.

“NO!” Roscoe screamed but he did not dare move as the creature’s threat lingered between the three of them. Roscoe’s body was screaming for action, to rush forward to Gus’s rescue, but the creature’s cold blade stilled his feet.

The creature was turning away, carrying the crying Gus with him, and Roscoe could do nothing. He gripped his bow fiercely and grabbed another arrow, knocking it in place as he aimed right for the creature’s head, fury burning in his eyes. He had the aim. He could do it. Knock this arrow deep into its skull! But...what was the point? His arrows had already proven time and again that his weapons were useless. Even the deafening crack from the frying pan that aimed such a perfect blow to its skull was not enough to keep the creature down. What would Roscoe’s lone arrow do but anger the creature further and possibly kill the boy instead of saving him?

He watched as the creature’s form moved further and further away as did the boy’s cries, his arrow lifted the whole time, yet he felt completely and utterly useless. At last he dropped his bow to the ground and fell to his hands and knees with a frustrated cry. No! He was right there! He had him. And just like that...he was gone. Roscoe had failed to keep Gus safe. When it came down to it he couldn’t save the young boy from the evil creature’s clutches, and even now he couldn’t follow. A part of him wanted to test the creature’s bluff for why would it go through so much trouble to get the boy alive? If it did not care for Gus’s life, then surely it wouldn’t have kept him alive up till now? But it was far too much a risk to try and follow.

“Goddess Hylia, no!” He cried out furiously, angry with himself and devastated for the boy. He didn’t realize he was crying till he saw his tears fall onto the ground before him.

“Get up.” The fury that had burned in Leia upon first seeing the boy had blossomed within at the sight of red on his neck. Her fingers had curled into the cast iron with such ferocity, had she been a stronger woman it might have left indentations. But she’d seen it. The face. And there was no question in her mind what the monstrosity was, now. No amount of force, no savagery by arrows would bring it to its end.

“It’s a Stalfos. Ancient monsters from… centuries past.” Knowledge was good. Clarifying. It did nothing to steady her trembling hands, or still the wild tattoo of her heart against her chest, but her mind… her mind was clear, “It’s undead. It can’t be killed. Not… not without destroying the head.” Tearing her eyes away from the figure as it vanished further from their view, she glanced to Roscoe, and repeated, a little softer, “Roscoe. Get up.”We’re not finished, here. We need to go find Impa. And the boy’s father. They’ll know what to do.”

The ferocity of Leia’s tone was enough to snap Roscoe out of his despair. His gaze turned sharply upward towards her but he realized that the fury was not directed at him, but like himself, it was directed towards the creature that carried away the young prince. Stalfos… The name was not familiar to Roscoe. Though he knew many of the legends and stories of the Hero himself, he was not too knowledgeable with other things, but Leia’s words helped to clarify what the creature was. It was no wonder they could not bring such a terrible creature down and, judging by the screams and chaos happening around them, there were bound to be more. How could there be such terrible monstrosities roaming around the city?

This time her gaze moved toward his own but it was softer this time, as was her voice. Roscoe couldn’t understand how she could remain so calm and clear in a time of crisis. However, it helped to calm his own distraught mind and heart and her words fueled him. She was right. They weren’t done. Gus might have been taken away for now but he would not abandon him now. They would save him. There was no way Roscoe was going to allow Gus to remain in the Stalfos’s hold for long.

He nodded once to Leia and pulled himself together, gathering what arrows remained and grabbed his bow before standing back up. He silently promised Gus that they would rescue him, one way or another, but they had to seek help first. He just had to wait for them.

“Let’s go.”
 
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Market Square​


∆∆∆[/I]

The darkened hood seemed to regard Aedris for a moment. It lingered,an eternity, as if the figure's sheer menace was enough to stop the very ticking of the clock. And death spilled from its cloth folds, drifting into their surroundings and assaulting his nostrils. It mingled with the stench of viscera, the tang of bloody copper. About them cowered the bodies of the terrified, kneeling near forms of the fallen. A proper defense was slow to mount, and few had chosen to bring personal weapons into the city. The cultist's own blade lifted, as if in supplication to the sky. The red radiated wrath, cold and callous, clinging to the dulled dagger like slime to a stone.

There was a flash like lightning, followed immediately by a crack. The cultist collapsed, hood split nearly in two. From its darkness rolled one half of a half-decomposed head, its single eye socket empty.

"Yah alright, kid?"

It was a deep voice, commanding and confident. A knight stood behind the beaten foe, sword in hand and a smile in the midst of a short beard. His eyes examined Aedris quickly, the smile turning to a frown when he saw the injury he'd sustained.

"Let's get you somewhere safe so you can get patched. Can you walk? The King is mounting a defense at the Fountain; you should be safe there."

Aedris was, in fact, not far from it. Through sheer luck, his wanderings had led him toward the heart of the chaos, which nevertheless was possibly the safest spot to be. Soldiers, yet few but their numbers bolstered by the second, were engaging the cultists in battle. Few of the enemies stayed down, but the concerned efforts of the military served to limit any harm they might actually do.

Dexton, the Lieutenant of the Guard who had rescued Aedris from his attacker, looked back the way he'd come, frowning, as if looking for someone who never appeared. Grunting, he glanced back to the boy before waving him on and introducing himself.

"Come. Let's get you to them."

∆∆∆​

The crowd seemed to part, giving way to Abbok's flight from the thing that had attacked him. Perhaps there was a fury in the Rito's eyes that dissuaded any from approach. Perhaps it was the naked blade he held, clean and bloodless. Or perhaps it was the simple fear that held each person in its grip as they scattered for some semblance of safety, scrambling for security amidst the chaos.

He was still near the archery flight, though there was nothing like the order nor enthusiasm that so defined it beforehand. As he raised his voice, calling for his new friend, other sounds intermingled with it. The tears and wails of people huddled over their beloved family, the gasps and death rattles of those nearing death's embrace, the echo of combat from some distance away. Ah, indeed; the fighting had drifted away. Soldiers and civilians lay dead among the cobblestones, as did a couple of piles of the cultists' robes; it appeared that there had been some moderate success against the enemy. A putrid perfume, rancid and rotting, drifted into the Rito's nose, gagging him; it was obvious that the odor came from the piles. Interestingly, despite the shape of a corpse within the folds, neither blood nor viscera pooled about them.

"You! Rito!" At a glance, the speaker was obvious. A Royal Guardsman, sword still sheathed and spear held at the ready in both hands. His face was covered in perspiration; running about in heavy armor as he had was no small feat. "The King has ordered a defense at the Fount! Please shelter there immediately, and advise all else whom you find!"

Without awaiting an answer, he sprinted off to carry his message to the next recipient.

Meanwhile, Quelin was dragging his ward forcibly along by the arm, fingers locked in a death grip. It felt as though his eyes had widened involuntarily, and they sprang from one target to the next, desperate to find any source of danger from which to flee but terrified of succeeding. The birdman. Yes. He'd told them to run, yes? He was a warrior of some kind, if the sword he held was any indication, so the butler was of no mind to argue. Heart beating to the point of bursting, terror threatening to spill from his mouth in a scream, he rounded a corner, Adam in tow. Quelin fell back against the stone wall, breath coming in ragged gasps. His poor mind. His poor constitution! He was not made for such madness.

"Come- Adam-" he managed, barely able to look up from where he'd doubled over in his desperate seizure of air. "Father- Must- Find-"

About them, the crowd was beginning to thin. People were scattering anywhere that might offer some modicum of safety, and the soldiers were seeking to weed out the terrorists. The cacophony they had initially created was fading, and over it came an official voice: the Guardsman, giving orders.

"Oh thank Hylia," Quelin sighed, his breath returning to him. "Let's go to the King."

∆∆∆​

Even at the Fountain, people still panicked, if less chaotically so. Many were nursing wounds, bathing rags in the Fountain as they ministered to injuries both personal and impersonal. There was scattered weeping, the names of those lost falling in disbelief from the mouths of brothers and sisters, of fathers and mothers, of sons and daughters. Yet more vocal, and more common, was the beginnings of discontent and shock. Here, in the midst of the Hyrulian King's own city, here he had been attacked. After a century of peace, war was apparently lifting its ugly head. And King Gustavus looked powerless to stop it. To his credit, Crestus, the Master of Ceremonies, was doing his best to keep things orderly, though he was quite obviously out of his depth.

A ring of soldiers surrounded the survivors, checking carefully any that sought refuge. Every cloak was opened, every coat or jacket shifted, and every hood and mask was removed in order to lay eyes on every person entering. Weapons were permitted, however; for all the safety he strove for, the King had already failed in protecting his city and its visitors; he would not be accused of perpetuating the error.

Roscoe and Leia arrived at the shelter in short time. A pair soldiers had initiated the security measures when-

"Her! That's her! I know her!" One of the soldiers turned his head, eyebrow lifted. The petite form of Impa was sprinting up as quickly as she might, a finger stabbing the air toward Leia. She continued. "Let her in, boy! I have her a task, and now she returns with news!"

She looked- hopeful. Her eyebrows were lifted, and the lines in her cheeks were smoothed by the tentative joy it carried. And her eyes roved this way and that, peering about Leia's slight form, as if it might hide the rambunctious child she sought. Yet they found nothing, and the old woman's face once more tightened in grief.

"Very well," she muttered, half to herself, before waving then forward vaguely. The soldiers, to their credit, did not prevent them from following. "Then at least please give me news."

∆∆∆​

He was tall, true. But the streets were no vantage point. Sliding his view across his chest, he located the nearest tower and began to climb it.

The Gerudo had not been idle. When the attacks had begun, he had began loosing his arrows into the cultists' robes, yet the vanity of such actions quickly became obvious to him, and he had chosen instead to go hands on. The bones crushed to powder beneath his fingers, yet that put him in reach of their own daggers. He had paid for his closeness; he was covered in shallow cuts, and though they bleed only a little, still they stung; the breeze that sprang to a wind only served to irritate them.

It was a fool's quest. All had gone awry from the word go. He had spent years tracking the fool, finding some way to get close enough to kill him. The Gerudo grit his teeth, grunting as he hoisted himself higher. Then he'd gotten word of the competition, the break he'd needed. It was opportune. The first flight: easy. He would loose as the others did, to ease any suspicions. Again on the second. The third was when he would-

No, he groused, bitterness filling his head. Things never worked as they should, and amid the chaos, his mark had disappeared. Perhaps, if he gained some height, he might see him. His fingers found purchase on the roof edge, and he pulled himself up.

It was a perfect platform. Pitched only enough the encourage rainwater to run off, the roof was stable and secure, and high enough to see a great deal of the city; it stood probably five stories high. The Gerudo scanned the streets, shading his eyes against the sun, not caring whether he was spotted. He turned about, peering deeply. Until he found him. His mark. He stood among the crowd, surrounded by soldiers at the Fountain, head in his hands and looking ever so concerned. A ploy, the Gerudo knew. Carefully, he drew an arrow. It would be a long shot, but he would shoot true. The man had to die.

∆∆∆​

Question: how late can a post be and it still be considered enough effort to continue players' interest in the RP? Let's find out. But for real: I know I'm VERY late, so if you wanna drop, I understand completely.
@Elle Joyner @Kjbivins @DracoGale4 @Verran @kookyboy9
 
  • Nice Execution!
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b51e4f1eae8552aebb82d5e992d9a716.jpg


Leia
INTERACTIONS || @Red Thunder, @DracoGale4 MENTIONS || @Verran



FESTIVAL
As they neared the fountain, Leia's fingers curled into the front of her blouse, the top most button the source of her worrying fingers. The threads were nearly frayed by the time she and Roscoe had come to the barricade of soldiers, a strangely poignant parallel to her nerves. She wanted to run. It was cowardice, she knew. But she wanted it, nonetheless. To turn and run, disappearing into the crowd and chaos. She wanted to slip back to her library, take cover among the books and tomes and dust and age and never look back. She wanted to return to that time a few nights prior when it was just Aedris and her, sharing a meal behind their masks...

Avoidance was a condition of fear. For all she would tell herself she was brave and indifferent, Leia knew none of it was true. These people. This situation. This chaos. It was dire and terrifying, but it wasn't the only thing she was avoiding. Fate, though, had a funny way of putting things into people's paths that they could not diverge from, try as they might. That same feeling that had instilled in her a certainty that it had been placed on her to help Aedris heal now too gave her an unyielding sense that whatever was happening in her beloved city was not to be ignored. And there would be no running or avoiding or ignoring that.

A voice called out and Leia soon found herself and her red-feathered friend being led through the barrier towards the diminutive figure of the elder nurse she and Aedris had encountered only a short while earlier. Heat wound along her collar and up the back of her neck, her cheeks painted the same crimson as Roscoe's crown as she bowed her head to Impa, hearing the unmistakable disappointment color the woman's query.

Swallowing, Leia looked up, "I'm sorry. They took him. I..." Wringing her hands together, she grimaced lightly at the feeling in the pit of her stomach, "We had him. The Stalfos, it was wounded. And we had Gus, but I... I told him we were coming to find you, and he got upset. He tried to run off and the Stalfos recovered... grabbed him. Threatened to k-kill him, if we followed..."

Sniffing, eyes falling again, Leia shook her head, "Roscoe here... He fought valiantly to protect Gus. He was injured in the fray, but I do not doubt he would have fought to his last breath for the prince, had he been able. Gus, too, fought most gallantly, but he... he was so little. They were heading east, towards the castle, but... well, I can't be sure what their intended destination was. I take full responsibility for all that happened and will accept whatever consequences there may be."
 
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  • Bucket of Rainbows
Reactions: Red Thunder
Aedris’s eyes widened as the corpse cultist stared him down but then, sprouting from deep planted seeds, his eyes narrowed. The miasma of rot sweeping into his nostrils as the creature raised the blade painted with his own blood to the heavens as if to taint the realm of the Goddesses all pushed Aedris past an unspoken brink. A potent poultice of sudden mutely snarling rage and courage that forsook wisdom as Aedris pulled on something that whispered of power. He wasn’t even sure what and he didn’t care. He was sick of rotting. Sick of running. And sick of ruined days.

Then the lightening crack struck and he blinked. Whatever power was being held suddenly crept back, unnoticed, into the depths of his heart. Wrong-footed, Aedris shook his head to find himself still standing as the cultist collapsed. Still bleeding from his chest. It took him a second to process what the man said. It took a second further to realize that, while the rage had snapped out of him and had been replaced with the old familiar feeling of dread, the courage remained.

“I…wait. No! No, I can’t go back yet. We can’t go back,” he said on sudden inspiration to pull the soldier, whoever he was, along, “I need to find my friend. She’s out there somewhere looking for him, the Prince! Gus, is what I mean. Ask Impa, later that is. We have to go!”

Already he was moving to go back into the city proper. Wild-eyed as his mind ground in circles as Aedris tried to focus. Leia had to be out there. She had to be. The woman was courageous enough to poke a sleeping Hinox to get whatever she wanted from it. This city chaos wouldn’t prevent her from finding the prince and seeing him safe home. If the cultists didn’t kill her first. The thought of Leia’s death almost sent a shiver quaking down his spine and Aedris shunted the thought from his mind. She would be fine. She would be alive. She had to be! Leia would appear soon enough with the princeling in tow. He just had to be there in time.

Interaction: @Red Thunder
Mentioned: @Elle Joyner and the Prince Team
 
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Interactions: @Red Thunder @Elle Joyner

∆V∆V∆V∆

Cries of laughter and joy were replaced by wails of grief and pain. The calls of salesmen selling their wares were nothing but a fading memory, echoing behind the dreaded cries of soldiers trying to get everything into order. The distant sounds of battle now resonated through the streets where trumpets and music once played. It was as though the festival had never existed. It was now nothing but a battlefield where the colors that made the festival so bright was now replaced all in red. It was like a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

Roscoe followed Leia towards the Square with his bow drawn, tense, and ready to use at a moment's notice but this was not courage or certainty he felt. No, it was fear. Fear that at any moment they may be jumped on and attacked once more. His wings trembled as they held his bow and his eyes darted from side to side. Just mere moments before he had been running through these streets, laughing as he carried young Gus on his shoulders as they sought the elusive Keaton, the young prince laughing and shouting excitedly from upon his back. Now Roscoe walked with a slight limp, frightened and mortified at what he saw, carefully stepping around bodies. He stared at them as he passed, all innocent citizens of different tribes, struck down in a place where they should have felt safe. He even spotted a few bodies of mighty Gorons. Just what foul monsters have they faced that could bring down such large citizens?

Roscoe had never really witnessed death. Not like this. He spotted some of the Rito among the bodies. All the while he dreaded spotting familiar red crests much like his own among them, his heart nearly stopping when he, indeed, spotted something red. But it was only a Gerudo, yet his relief was soon replaced with guilt when he saw a small child Gerudo crying over the body. Roscoe felt sick.

Only when they made it to the fountain and Roscoe saw the number of guards there did he finally put away his bow. He felt in a daze, his eyes looking around hopefully for his father and brother. Surely they had to be here, right? He was praying to Goddess Hylia that they were safe, hoping with all his might that he would see them alive and well. He wasn't sure if he could take any more of this bloodshed and darkness.

He was distracted by a very elderly woman who seemed to be gesturing for him and Leia to come over. At first, Roscoe was completely baffled. He didn't understand this woman's need to see them. His mind seemed to be in another world, unable to keep up with the reality he found himself in, but when Leia began to speak to the old woman did Roscoe remember. This must be Impa, the one that Leia spoke to Gus about. Gus's guardian.

Instant guilt and shame flooded Roscoe and he could not meet Impa's eye. Leia's words only seemed to increase the terrible feelings festering up inside him. She made him sound so heroic but that wasn't Roscoe at all. He couldn't protect Gus and it was only thanks to Leia's aid that the-Stalfos was it?-was able to drop. It was only by terrible luck did they lose Gus to the monster when they had thought it slain.

"N-no!" Roscoe quickly piped in when Leia tried to take the fall. "It wasn't her fault. I am responsible, Gus was under my care. I...I should have looked for his guardians right from the start! We were playing a game..." That seemed like so long ago now. "I had no idea he was the Prince Gus but that doesn't matter. Prince or not, I should have looked for his parents. If I had done that then none of this would ever have happened. He could have been safe here, with you."

He bowed his head. "I'm so terribly sorry... It was only thanks to Leia here that I hadn't been killed." After all, there was no way he would have been able to run from the Stalfos for long with his injury, and they might have ran into more. "So don't punish her. I'm the one who led Gus into danger."

He then straightened and, for a moment, despite his fear and utter grief, his eyes shone with clarity. "But I'll do everything I can to bring him back. Whatever it takes." After all, he was still alive. Why else would the Stalfos carry him off without killing him?
 
  • Sympathy & Compassion
Reactions: Red Thunder
Had it been days, weeks, months? Time had seemed to stop for Abokk. Many years ago he was a scared little chick being beating by monsters and now, somewhere out there, he had left Adam all alone. This was why Abokk liked traveling alone. No one to let him down, and no one for him to let down. All the years of training and travel had been for nothing if he couldn't actually defend people he cared about. And what about the rest of the townsfolk? For the one undead monster he destroyed, how many had risen and killed innocents. He wanted to be out in the woods again. Somewhere nice a secluded. Away from failure and decay.

He did as the soldier commanded but in a sort of daze. All around him was carnage and confusion and he wondered if anyone he told to go to the fort even took his advice. In the fort were families crying for lost loved ones or praying to Hylian that those missing would turn up soon. Of all the people Abokk did not expect to find, he never imagined meeting the goron mugger from earlier. The giant sat in a corner with a pitiful expression on his face. His crew was nowhere in sight. He looked up and saw Abokk. The two said nothing and the goron looked to the ground with tears starting to form.

Abokk tried to think positively (a hard thing for him to do). Adam was a noble, and the last time Abokk saw him he was being escorted away. He hoped they had fled somewhere safe, yet despite his efforts, Adam wasn't in the fort. Abokk grew more frantic and soon he began asking strangers if they had seen Adam. He waited for more people to arrive and with each new group, his hope of finding his new friend grew dimmer and dimmer. He thought about running pasts the guards and search for Adam himself but his survivalist nature tried to take hold of him.

Don't go back. Don't go back. You're too weak. You can't help.

Abokk turned around and walked out of the safety of the fort. A few knights walked up to him but Abokk spirited past them on his long legs.

They're just doing their job. What can you do?

Abokk pushed away these thoughts. He had to try. Adam came to save him, so Abokk needed to make sure that Adam was safe too. When he returned to the now mostly empty city, he began looking at any bodies left in the aftermath to see if any were Adam's. Nearby he saw a humanoid shape move about. At first, he thought it was another one of the monsters so he drew his sword. His skin was sallow and fair save for a few splotches. Despite looking a little sickly, he was Hylian, and a living one at that. Like Abokk he was frantically searching the area but ran off back to the castle roads before Abokk could get closer.


Interaction: Verran
Mention:

[IMG alt="kookyboy9"]https://data.iwakuroleplay.com/avatars/s/30/30781.jpg?1581801086[/IMG] kookyboy9
 
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