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mamamittens · 3 years

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Long Awaited LoZ Thoughts

I’d like to start this off by explaining my background. I have a BA in English with a minor in Humanities. I have lived all my life in the Bible Belt of America, so my PoV of this series is inevitably going to be, at least in part, from the perspective of a Western-centric, Christianity-influenced woman. I have grown up with a deep interest in folk tales and mythology though, and took several classes on ancient cultures, so my base knowledge of religion all over the world is broader than what you’d probably expect. I am not religious myself, I’m actually agnostic. And this is just an in-universe look at the very strange religion of Hyrule. So, to make things easier, let’s just put aside the obvious meta issues with this world. The wonky timeline, complex lore changes between said timelines, and the fact that the whole series has clearly grown wildly over the course of its development without an overarching plot. The game mechanics being game mechanics. All of it. This whole thing will just be me trying to make sense of the world without the ‘it’s just a game, bro’ crutch. I will be drawing on what I know from the many games I’ve played myself, so if I don’t mention a big piece of lore from a specific game, it’s because I didn’t play it. Go ahead and rule out the early games before Ocarina of Time, as that’s the first game in the series I can remember playing. I was legitimately too young to have ever played anything prior to that, having been born in 1996. Now let’s get started, shall we?

So, obviously everyone knows that the LoZ world is said to begin with the three goddesses. Din, Nayru, and Farore came together to create the world and before they yote themselves out of the narrative as direct players, they created the Triforce. A powerful artifact capable of granting a wish and giving their respective bearers undefined power. This is directly from Ocarina of Time and we see their symbol, the Triforce, all over the many games with very few exceptions. Now, to be clear, having a polytheistic religion with three main gods is hardly new. Hinduism has three main gods after all (Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva), and depending on your flavor of Christianity, you have the holy trinity (God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit). There’s even the Celtic goddesses that come specifically in threes (collectively called The Morrigan; Eriu, Fodla, and Banba). This isn’t an exhaustive list of three divine beings, by the way, just know that three is a weird trend in western-centric stories, including religion. But what’s different about the three Hyrule Goddesses? Well, they’re weirdly small for big shot gods. Let me explain.

So, the three Hindu gods I mentioned earlier each handle a specific aspect. Creation, destruction, and preservation, not necessarily in that order though (which god does what isn’t the point, so just roll with me here). These are very broad and powerful subjects. Christianity is much the same, even though it’s a monotheistic religion. God is literally an all-powerful, omniscient, omnipotent deity. Jesus is his son who gave his life to basically forgive all sin. And I’m not totally clear on the Holy Spirit, but these three are clearly Big Deals with Big Ideas behind them. A good rule of thumb for old religion is that the older the deity, the wider the scope of their job or what they represent. Which makes sense. If you had to personify the forces of the universe, you’d probably start with the sun instead of like… whatever god is responsible for the creation of rice specifically. The bigger and scarier the natural force, the bigger deal that god usually is, putting aside politics and cultural trends. Egypt is a good example of this, as their roster of gods tended to change a lot depending on who was Pharaoh at the time and wherever the city center was. Horus is the god of the sun, or at least one of them, and is generally considered king of the gods. Which makes perfect sense for a land largely made up of a desert.

But what are the three goddesses’ rulers of? Power, Wisdom, and Courage. Each with clear elemental associations and people that are obviously affiliated with them. Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom, is clearly associated with water and likely has a close connection with the Zora. Din, Goddess of Power, is associated with fire and has clear connection with the Gerudo (unclear if the same goddess as the one present in the desert temple in Ocarina of Time). Farore, Goddess of Courage, is associated with all things green and of the earth, including the child-like race of Kokiri who perpetually inhabit the forest. Sure, these are broad topics, but not really… the first thing you’d think of for creators of the universe, are they? And it raises the question about the Hyrule people, who are said to be able to hear the gods due to their pointed ears… let’s put a pin in that and move on.

So, we know there are many gods in this universe, primarily because we meet them. For example, Zephos, God of Winds, in Wind Waker. But he’s clearly a fairly forgotten god, as he shares a shrine with Cylcos, God of Cyclones, which is about as bare as it can be. Just what appears to be a Tori gate with two stone monuments with the simple notes to summon them, almost completely out of the way. Which… I mean, I don’t know many gods with their extension number written on their monuments. That would kind of like going to church on Sunday and seeing “Hit me up if you need me, J-Boy 555-TAKE THE WHEEL” written on the podium. And remember, this is a world and game where the gods actively flooded the world and would therefore hold or have held enough power to directly interfere with Hyrule.

And Skyward Sword clearly has divine beings, one of which even flooded a whole area, though they’re subservient to Hylia. Who we will get back to later, I promise. The three dragons (again, that magic number), capable of divine power, though where that power comes from in unclear. The dragons are of a high status though, as evident by their servants and clear reference to high-class dress of their clothes. These dragons are revered, but clearly not worshipped, much like nobles in that regard. A curious note is the parallels to the three goddesses, and how the symbols are muddled and mixed for these dragons.

Lanayru clearly has the symbols associated with the Zora, and by extension Nayru, but is yellow. He also is saved by time travel used to grow a magic fruit, which Link often uses (time travel) in many games to advance the plot himself (and wouldn’t you know it, but mixing blue with yellow does produce green. Weird). Faron is the water dragon who flooded an area, and she is almost entirely blue (as well as unsettling to look at), surrounded by a species clearly related to the Zora though closer to octopi. But her name is Faron, which is weirdly close to Farore’s name, not Nayru. I mean, they are close to locations that resemble their names of course, but it’s still an interesting note. Finally, there’s Eldin, clearly bearing a symbol associated with the Gerudo without any strange mixes of symbols for the series. Oddly, he’s also the most open of the three dragons, especially considering the Gerudo’s traditional stance of being a ‘no-sausage’ club. Not terribly relevant, but I just thought it was interesting to point out. You can consider the Giants in Majora’s Mask on the same level as them, though their status is unclear (Since they’re summoned by a song and can stop the moon from falling, they probably straddle the line between mortal and divine).

Now, spirits also exist in this world, both as the ghostly variety and the more pseudo-divine. Not to be confused with actual divinity. Divine being can be spirits, but not all spirits are divine. In this context, spirits can be defined more as being of power capable of granting aid in return for something. Zephos can change the winds if called upon, but you don’t need to feed him, for example. But the spirits in Twilight Princess need aid before they can help you. And they’re also not very independent and are able to be fooled easily, which isn’t usually a god-like quality. While more physically present than the three goddesses, they’re also not strictly tangible, and seem to be extremely limited to their location. At best, these spirits could be classified as minor deities below the gods we see in Wind Waker. They also share the same abilities in keeping the realm of Twilight from falling over the land of Hyrule, as well as their weakness to parasites of undetermined origin. An interesting note is that they all seem to live in bodies of water. Let’s put a pin in that one too.

Someone that also counts as a spirit would be Fi and her counterpart, Ghirahim. Literally two halves of the same coin, these two are both very limited in power and function. They don’t represent anything on their own and are very dependent on others to achieve results. How or why they were made is unclear, but it is obvious that both were forged at some point, and clearly gained sentience. Even their personalities and allegiances are a bit odd. Fi for her sci-fi appearance and calculating personality in a fantasy land, and Ghirahim for his… well, everything. I don’t know why the root of all evil would make his weapon a full-tilt diva, let alone on purpose. Ghirahim always struck me as odd since his bombastic personality seemed to clash with his ultimate fate of just being a weapon for Demise.

Okay, so the Great Fairies are weird, okay?! Like, really weird. They act as spirits (I can’t think of any that aren’t restricted to a body of water in some form), but are very independent. They also don’t necessarily need anything from Link to offer assistance. Sometimes, just opening the fairy fountain is enough to gain items needed to progress. And there’s also the fact that fairies heal you upon ‘death’, though with a limited heart capacity. Sometimes they need you to do something though, like the Breath of the Wild fairies need rupees to function or items to upgrade equipment. They also usually look human, like Majora’s Mask Great Fairies are clearly just… giant women with color coded accessories. But like, they float. Where Great Faires come from, or even just regular fairies, is unclear. Until Wind Waker, Great Faires were adults. But when you finally meet the real Great Fairy in Wind Waker it’s… a child. With a doll that looks just like the ‘Great Fairies’ you’ve seen along the way. This sort of implies that Great Fairies age and die, though clearly with a different lifetime than most races in Hyrule (the child Great Fairy also only looks somewhat human compared to other Great Fairies, so make of that what you will). And it also implies that all the adult Great Fairies are dead (you’re welcome for that depressing thought), with the last one trapped in a hollow tree only accessible by the power of a God.

In Breath of the Wild, the Great Fairies are both diminished but more powerful. They literally are stuck in a giant flower with water in it, with few fairies around them, and require riches to get stronger. The connection to their new restrictions to this need for material wealth is unclear. It’s also interesting to note that their fountains are no longer places that appear to be man-made holy temples and they seem to be out of the way… well, for a given value of ‘out of the way’ (looking at you ninja village). These fairies can accomplish more tasks, but certainly won’t be doing it for free or with minimal effort. A far cry from their first appearances (no, I don’t consider using explosives a difficult task).

But Fairies are also companions with nebulous tasks, such as in Ocarina of Time, where Tatl follows Link until the end of the game. And Kokiri have their own fairy as a sign of whatever accounts for adulthood in their race. The Skull Kid in Majora’s Mask has two fairy friends who seemed to have been either lost or abandoned. Who or what gives them purpose and life is unclear, though the Great Deku Tree from Ocarina of Time can give commands, it doesn’t seem to be something he does normally? As a side note, it’s really not clear what, if anything he can actually do. Though the relative safety of the surrounding area is clearly tied with his wellbeing in all iterations, he doesn’t seem to directly influence it, or be capable of self-defense.

Now, onto the elephant in the room! Hylia! Who the hell is this?! A more recent entry to the series, her divine roll is unclear (though she clearly guards the Triforce in some capacity). It can be assumed that she’s somehow a goddess tied directly to the Hylian people, but when she appeared is up for debate. Timeline wise, it’s almost like knowledge of her was suppressed for some reason, giving rise to the Triforce mythos we all know and love without hide or hair of her seen. We know that she favored the original Link greatly, enough to shed her divinity to be reborn as a mortal and assist him. How or why is also unclear, though it wouldn’t be unfair to assume she loved him, as divine ladies holding an affair with a mortal isn’t uncommon in mythology (or even male gods doing the same, before anyone brings up Zeus). But she makes a resurgence in Breath of the Wild, with statues and everything, with the three goddesses left to only vague references in the background. Which is super weird, though not uncommon for places like Ancient Egypt. The fact that the ruling family was literally descendant from a goddess is what makes it weird though, since any monarchy worth their salt would milk that until the peasant folk revolted and made a new religion to justify killing a god.

Zelda in every incarnation is literally descendant from the original and still held at least a fraction of that divine power. So much so that a cornerstone of a powerful religious artifact inevitably ends up in her hands (or on the back of her right hand, as it were). But what is Hylia a Goddess of? We don’t know. It’s never said. Anywhere. And that’s super weird, even for a ubiquitous deity. Sure she’s a Goddess of Hyrule but… what does that mean? That can’t be all she is? Her reincarnation is literally locked in a generational struggle against the forces of darkness! What can she do as a Goddess? Well, she makes Link stronger in return for items, but that seems to be it. In Ocarina of Time, Zelda was capable of sending Link back to the past, but that was with a magic item. And we know Hylia isn’t the Goddess of Time, because Zelda references her in Majora’s Mask (sequel to Ocarina of Time, therefore implying that there are more gods unmentioned at that time), when Hylia should be mortal or at least fragmented (because Zelda exists at the time with powers and a Triforce piece). The Guardian of Time in Hyrule Warriors also fell in love with Link before splitting into Cia and Lana (and was unable to fuse back together again), so it’s unlikely that she’s the Goddess of Time Zelda was referring to, though that detail is interesting to note. No, I will not discuss if Hyrule Warriors is canon (either game), as this is already long enough as it is.

So, that brings us to Ganon, or in his original form, Demise. Which… what’s up with that? Who is this guy? He directly opposes the gods and just… gets away with it! Repeatedly! Sure, he loses most of the time, but still. It’s unclear where Demise came from, or even what he is, though judging by Ghirahim’s ‘Demon Lord’ title, it can be assumed that he is some type of demon himself. And that the many monsters we see are also considered demons, which makes sense with how they always work for Demise (or his many iterations) in some form or another. Considering how much it takes to simply seal him away, he can’t be just a demon though.

Demise obviously pulled the same trick Hylia did, which directly sets him up as a counterpart to her, but what does it mean? Why would he do that? What is Demise that he can’t be beat with the power of a Goddess alone and needs not only a brave knight but a blade literally made to counter him? Within the context of religion, the best guess I can make is that he’s some form of a God of Darkness, possibly also Temptation, Greed, and Pigs Corruption. It fits within the narrative since power is often the strongest form of temptation and we know that demons capable of opposing the gods exist. The Horned Statue literally takes Hylia’s blessings in exchange for wealth, and was turned into a statue for it. What it stands to gain from any of it is unclear, but interestingly enough, Hylia doesn’t mind that it closely resembles her own statues. So, this raises the question… why isn’t Demise a forgotten statue somewhere along a dusty road? How did he curse(?) both a reborn goddess and a human in an eternal struggle for the fate of Hyrule?

Being a god is about the only explanation for why he can do the things that he does. It explains why, in every incarnation, he ends up a rule (like Zelda). How he controls so many different species with ease. He corrupts the conflicted as easily as breathing. An interesting note is how Demise in his many forms usually ends up corrupting once good forces in some way, typically with parasites or evil spirits. And with this context, Hylia must be a Goddess of Light, and possibly some form of Will and Purity to oppose Demise’s power. It would also make her a good candidate for looking after the Triforce in that case. And yet we don’t know any of this for sure either, which is, again, very strange considering their presence from the very beginning. Literally.

Now, I want to mention the temples as a last point before wrapping this up, because it has bothered me since I was a wee little whipper snapper. For a place of worship, they sure are hard to navigate, even when they’re empty of monsters. And it’s not like Hyrule doesn’t get this, because the Temple of Time in Ocarina of Time is straight up a church. Just… without pews, so clearly not perfect, but it is possible for people to come in and… worship time, I guess. And no, not the Goddess of Time, because there’s no statue for that. I mean, I know it’s secretly hiding the Master Sword, but it is definitely a church otherwise. What a normal service looks like I can’t say for sure, but it’s definitely not like literally any other temples we see.

Now, I know it’s a little hard to remember, but temples are usually places where one goes to worship the gods (or even just a god). And we know gods exist in a very real way in Hyrule! They still manage to name Zelda the same thing despite having seemingly buried their divine origins, so some knowledge of gods walking the mortal realm exists. But the temples/dungeons we see usually don’t have much in the way of religious iconography, with a few exceptions (interestingly it’s typically the desert area that actually has statues and could feasibly have had a real capacity for worship). You want to be a devout follower of a god anywhere else? Well, fuck you. Hope you brought a sword and a good pair of boots. If you’re allowed inside at all, since it’s usually the local leaders that are only allowed inside for some reason. And most games don’t seem to have very religious people, despite all the references to divinity. Not like we’d expect them to, at least. And I personally can’t blame them. If I tried to join a religion but found only a wall as an entrance, I’d be pretty disheartened too. Then I’d be pretty pissed to find out I needed not only a royal instrument handed down the monarchy, but their freaking lullaby to even get in to the place of worship. But we know they pray to the gods at least semi-often, since that’s one of the inciting incidences in Wind Waker. And they have offering to statues of Hylia.

The temples suggest the bar to impress the gods is pretty high, and not in a ‘sacrifice your eldest child’ kind of way. To even get the chance to reach the inner chambers you better hope it’s been kept well and that you didn’t skip leg day recently. Something I didn’t really mention before is that usually, the less involved the gods are, the more independent the people are from worship. If you worry that your local deity will flood your fields, you’re probably leaving regular offerings at their nearby shrine or temple. But if you know that the gods don’t care about literally anything you do, why worship them at all? Why make statues, art, or temples? Why bother with any of it? The answer is you don’t. So these highly selective temples are pretty weird unless you go with the idea the gods are just really done with people and never want to talk to them unless absolutely necessary.

So, I’ve rambled for over twelve pages now. What’s the point? What does any of this mean? I’m honestly not sure, but I have a sinking feeling that there’s some serious shit going on in the Hyrule pantheon. Mortals have been mostly abandoned to their doom. Gods cast out and forgotten entirely. And somehow advanced civilizations keep forming and getting destroyed with only remnants left behind with zero explanation. Assuming the original gods are even alive at this point, which I’m not entirely certain of. Their death certainly explains how Demise/Ganon keeps getting stronger, looking less and less Hylian as time goes on, if he looks humanoid to begin with.

I wouldn’t even assume it’s entirely voluntary at this point either, as Ganon clearly doesn’t have the same motivations in every incarnation (see my previous post about Wind Waker). I’m rather excited about Breath of the Wild 2, as the implications of dehydrated husk Ganon is compelling. Particularly in light of the character development Link and Zelda have received in the first Breath of the Wild. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ganon/Demise turns out to be a fallen god trying to get back home (a nice parallel to Wind Waker, actually), cast out as a scape goat. Blamed for every form of corruption and greed that naturally follows in his wake. I think I said this before, but it is interesting that he is always reborn among the Gerudo, a race famously all females. Sometimes thieves, but nearly always in a position that would naturally crave power to take control of their lives compared to Hylians. Regardless of the consequences.

Is it true? I don’t know. Probably not, but the fact that I can draw these conclusions in three hours of writing is pretty neat. I have a lot of feelings about this franchise, having grown up with it, but I eagerly await what comes next. And I should probably go to bed. Make of all this what you will.

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 21)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 20.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Bearing the child from a man who promised was sterile gave more anxiety as you lived in their world, knowing that Geralt will resent as the offspring was forged by a cursed spirit that held her own reasons and consequences. Your fate becoming more complicated as each day pass by with a dreading feeling that you surely have no idea about.

Warnings: The usual blasphemy. Lore about the Djinn. (I've made it up) Matka means 'mother'. Ingrith is an OC of mine so she ain't real in the witcher story. Hehehe. (Surprise! Guess Geralt knew Ingrith after all. HE LIED. LMAO. 😂😅🤣) Panicking reader. Pregnancy.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: Is this a boring chapter? I dunno. But, it will provide everyone the lore they need for some of your questions to be answered. I forgot to actually edit this because I was too focused on ranking up in Free Fire. Hahahahah. 😂 Had to edit this a day before I actually publish it in Tumblr. (I usually take 2 days because everybody loves to disturb me in my house. Also I need to manually tag people in taglists, check my grammar and typos. Oof. It makes me squint my eyes too hard on the screen because of how small the letters can be)

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Geralt of Rivia,"

Vicious and cunning as she may seem, her tone was utterly redolent. Familiar faces finally met in such a fate that not any fortune teller may assume would happen. Loved ones being involve in adversities that has been unflattering for the witcher who stood before the queen's long associate in the castle of Kaedwen, a victorious smirk warping her sharp-edge face that Geralt has not reciprocated. Twisted in a smile that tells she was hopeful over her plans being moved into the right places.

"---I knew you would come," Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact.

The witcher knew that this encounter was inevitable for the second time. Their previous meeting lingering inside his head---being the reason why he chose to live in the outskirts of Kaedwen which eventually made him tarry a bit over going to Kaer Morhen after receiving no answer from her. Receiving much of an answer he needed through Cuthbert, his neighbor who happened to heard rumors about 'her' whereabouts more than from the sorceress he'd decided to talk with.

He'd finally knew where Yennefer has been travelling when you've arrived, his search being an easy one as Geralt discovered her location after trying not to seek for the sorceress he has been looking for years---ending up knowing her area when he gave up finding the sorceress after a month or so.

"Where is she?" he beseech his avows, the scowl stern and never fading as he was eager to see you since the moment he step foot in the castle.

"Yen or your futile human? Oh, it wouldn't be that cursed princess you've butchered in Blaviken because she's already dead, Geralt."

The cunning sorceress tutted before him as they stood at the foot of the abandoned round tower, no guards being publicly seen because of the fact that they were too much of a milksop. Ingrith, Tybalt and Eanraig---the ones who had cabbalistic abilities were the only people who tries to take care of the prince. His own parents and siblings never giving bother about checking how he was doing despite of being harmless in daylight.

"---You've disappointed me---I knew you had a penchant for sorceresses or women whom you could consider as your kind---strong, discerning....and even whores paid to entertain you through your pitiful solitude,"

Ingrith went on with her vouching, leaning her head to the side with a knowing gaze inside her eyes; a forewarning that she was dismayed from his foolish decisions that she finds, continuously mocking his settlements, "---But, you've chosen a useless woman who could not defend herself even by telling the queen that she was not the thief who has stolen her precious necklace,"

The butcher barred his teeth, jutting his jaw forward as he felt his back turn tense and rigid from how he was turning furious as each second passes by with the sorceress he'd regretted to seek for help before---not knowing she would also be the person to afflict pain for his midget in the future.

"You've told the queen that she stole her jewelry when you know it wasn't her, not a canny persuasion made, Ingrith."

Her grin turned bigger, finding his anger satisfying and entertaining in her perspective. Ingrith could disguise as a devil and nobody would notice because of how wicked she'd been turning herself into; a wretch that Geralt have seen from her with the sacrilegious intentions living inside her mind.

"I've expected more from you than to choose and defend a mortal, Witcher."

"---I've remember the night we first met," she continued to ran her mouth, sardonic as she gladly hinted. Ingrith could see the blaze in his golden eyes, how he wanted to unsheathe his sword that was carried behind his back to show her his indignation for everything---from leaving her niece in the hands of her father who detested her due to deformity.

Hence, she has left young Yennefer with no guilt in her eyes despite knowing everything---leaving the past behind and acting like it never happened, taking the initiative to ignore her whereabouts and look the other way from how she grew into a strong woman.

"You were asking Yennefer of Vengerberg from me," she stepped a foot closer towards the witcher, making Geralt deeply breathe through his nose from his pique and lack of personal space that she was trying to bombard him with.

Ingrith couldn't help but let her grin fall when Geralt took a step back, steering clear from her suggestive gestures as he gave her a low hiss and rumble of his chest when he added words to complete her sentence, "---and you had other plans,"

"I've had better plans for us, Geralt."

"I do not wish to be involved by those treacherous plans of yours. You want power---you wanted to become stronger. Settling yourself in the castle to do what you want. Even planning to extirpate your own niece because she is more powerful than you,"

The sorceress scoffed to herself, exasperated from how he blocked her advances. His amber filled with fury as it has still not yet died down after going the deep end. Her trials involving on discouraging his faith for a mere mortal like you. Her ears felt like it was being rattled from the inside, triggering her pride and ego over being told that she was below of her niece in terms of strength and magic, "Yennefer of Vengerberg? She is not powerful as you may seem, Witcher."

"You've left her alone with people who do not care for her,"

"Sorceresses don't die easily than mortals. It's in her blood; our blood, Elven blood. You know this."

Geralt couldn't help but give her a snicker, the small curl of his lip raising in disbelief for her intentions over you and being involved in his god-forsaken life that he didn't want you to be a part with, "You want my mortal to die,---" he gruffly muttered, the words tasting bitter on the ends of his tongue for the idea of you dying in his arms.

"---I won't let that happen, not until I'm alive, Ingrith."

The witcher continued to brood like how people described him to be; his mood turning sour for not seeing you yet and not knowing what was happening to you as it kept his chest bothered and heavy. Ingrith's features warped into a twist, her nose scrunched from how distasteful she found his protection over your vulnerable, weakened self; how pathetic he was caring for a mortal that could die easily especially having the curse, you were more impuisant than any other woman in the continent because a curse had effects and consequences.

His safeguarding would be useless because of the inevitable juncture that would give him sorrow and Geralt had no idea what he was in when he was trying hard to shelter you out of harms way.

Ingrith crossed her arms, shaking her head at his determination, "She'll eventually die, witcher. It's her fate in the continent. Humans like her reach their demise with misery and regret because they're nugatory, serving no purpose but to be insignificant over us,"

The latter turned his back away from her, ending the discussion with his perseverance being unyielding, shaking his head for her estimated fortune telling that he believed was a lie; understanding that she was only saying it because you didn't belong to their world and you were at high risk over danger for the chaos living in the continent.

"She won't die nor will you have the opportunity of doing so,"

"Her existence would bring more despair; more sorrow for your fate. She's just a nuisance value of human kind!" Ingrith loudly exclaimed from behind, watching him courageously push the doors to the round tower where the cursed prince has been living. Disregarding her warnings like the wind passing through.

He heard her but didn't give any acknowledge over her words. Whether it was true or not, the witcher may never know unless the day that Ingrith has been foretelling has actually been damned after all.

The fairly large throne room was filled in luxury, themed in gold and red. Such color that simply tells how their bloodline lived around the hierarchy that they highly take care of. Blood and coins. It says all. Their ornaments and artifacts spent with coins seeming to be conceived in detail for their palace rather than for the people who deserved it better living in Kaedwen.

Queen Makeda tapped her fingers along the arms of her throne, her gaze sharp and pondering over Geralt and Tybalt who stood in the middle of the room. Both having an obvious lour; deepening when she started to give orders about what was to be expected over the hunt, any hints as to where the witch has been rumored to be last seen or any more information that must be shared before Geralt takes off.

"Tybalt shall be coming in search for the witch with the witcher,"

Prince Markith, he was the queen's younger son before Prince Althalos. A lot more younger than the cursed man, immature as the maids say so. He stood beside his seated mother, wearing a simple doublet over his black breeches. The fading freckles on his cheeks stretching when a giggle escaped his lips; an obvious space between his two front teeth shown as his laugh echoed around the throne room that has gotten Geralt to give a gander.

"Witch. Witcher. Witchest." the teenager playfully mumbled beneath his breath, finding amusement over the whole thing going on with his family especially seeing the white haired witcher all brooding and silent, subtly mocking his kind in the least offending way as possible.

The queen immediately given him a sharp warning of her gaze, cocking her head to the side and seeing her son continuously chuckling from his own joke, having his own world that he always manages to live in. Seeming to be like he had imaginary friends rather than real ones that his parents seclude him amongst children because Markith should be remained untouched from the filth that people had.

"Markith, that is not a proper attitude of a prince," she lowly scolded in the midst of talking, the child's interruption obviously irking her temper.

Markith raise a brow, the child's tone utterly sardonic as he spoke, "But, I'm not the crown prince. Brother is. But, if brother dies then---"

She cut him off with a brusque hiss, "He will not die from our hands! He will live and rule the future of Kaedwen,"

"Does this kingdom even have a future when it is ruled by your hands?"

Quietude filled the throne room after her son's sarcastic retort. The silence was frothing; bubbling from her expected aggravation over the younger prince's shameless answer. Much to her chagrin, she has never received an apology nor an explanation as to why Markith suddenly blurted it out in the open for Geralt to hear.

Upon hearing those words coming from a child, the witcher couldn't help but stood nonplussed. His expressions coming off as emotionless with his brooding charm jumping off the four corners of the room. In which has received a glower from the vampire who also stood beside him, his eyes seeming to be taking Geralt much more of his attention when they were both called to stay beside each other.

Queen Makeda raised a finger, ushering one knight to march his way up the numbered stairs under the lavish canopy where the king and queen's throne sits.

"Bartley, bring him back to his chambers," she roughly ordered, her teeth barred as she glared at Markith who was also feral for disregarding his opinions over their corrupted reigning throughout their kingdom. Bartley gave a courteous bow for the queen before walking to where her son stood, forcefully grabbing onto his shoulders as he gently pushed him around to leave.

"But, Mother---"

The queen never takes no for an answer. Hence, one loud yell was all the child has taken before being thrown out, his gaze lingering longer at the witcher whom he has heard tales about; having quite the eagerness to see if the tales were true to their words. Yet, his mother decided to lock him up in his room again for being curious and playing around.

"Now!"

Geralt stood completely still. The scowl never changing as he gave a heavy sigh, seeming like the world was carried on his burly, armored shoulders. His sour mood being the result of your prior, quick separation before he even walked to the throne room. Your pained words ringing inside his head for a thousand times like a plague that he had finally not been immune for.

He shouldn't have left you in that condition especially when you were physically injured. Geralt actually just proved to you how much of a witcher he was; cantankerous, blunt and emotionless even though you've had this strong faith for him that you believed being the opposite of it.

But, he just needed to fuck it up by leaving you without a word and also calling you pathetic in such ways.

The butcher continued eating his own heart out by staring at the queen with brooding eyes, waiting for the go signal for his hunt. He wanted to get this over with; planning to do his job right and find the witch, bring her in the castle to reverse the spell then off you go with him. Leaving all of these behind as a past that you would never forget or decide to forget forever if you wanted to.

Tybalt audibly scoffed for Geralt to give him his regard, taking the side-eye from the witcher as he publicly stated his cavils, "Why am I traveling with him now, yer' majesty? to be his guard? Hilarious!"

One familiar hum was heard; gruff and utterly sarcastic once Geralt began to frankly acknowledge. His hostility over the vampire obvious when he has opened his mouth, "I work better alone and away from blood sucking monsters." a feigned curl of his lips appearing to be a smile has been received towards the queen, her quick understanding seeing that it was a forced one that Geralt was trying hard to perceive over his altercations.

"---I'm a witcher. I slaughter beasts. Monsters of any kind."

In the spur of the moment, Geralt turned his head to let Tybalt see the mocking flicker inside his golden eyes.

Tybalt knew he was pertaining to his kind. Vampires. He couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, his nostrils flared while the witcher was trying to get on his nerves---or he just basically hated the higher vampire to send his animosity by being forthright, "What ye' lookin at, Weccan?" he sneered back at Geralt with barred teeth while the white wolf had the end of his lip curled into a leer, irked by his smug pillorying in the presence of the queen like he didn't give a fuck.

He really didn't especially when he wanted to behead everyone in his way.

Geralt's presence was already making Tybalt's hackles rise without even trying to nettle his temper. The image of his newly bathed hair was already narking him without even seeing his face and the feeling was mutual for both enemies.

Tybalt began forming his own ridicules, seeing the witcher become the object of his scorn.

"Your skin is as pale as your tresses. I doubt you still have any amount of blood in ye'!"

"The joke's too old. I'll assume you've asked me if I do bleed." the white wolf was nonchalant as he quipped. Displaying to be quite blase from his attempts of hurling more anger out of him when he was too furious from the start to even begin with.

"---Witcher, do you bleed?"

Geralt couldn't help the most jaded expression he could ever muster upon hearing the most asked question, uttering out a grumble of his insouciant timbre of his voice that has gotten Tybalt bellowing from his remark.

"My blood's not tasty enough for you. Don't bother."

"This feckin' arse!"

They've both sent each other deep growls against their chests, a low rumbling sound that was bouncing off the castle walls that everyone who was inside the throne room could notice as they stood side by side, giving each other glares and their derisive taunting.

Queen Makeda had a finger supporting her head from falling. Her arm folded and leaning against her throne whilst sighing over their random twits. Foot tapping along the stoned floors as she gave them both her enervated attention.

Tybalt's fixated gaze has been cut short when he'd knelt on the ground with one knee, bowing his head to pay his respects for the queen---probably, seeking support over not letting him travel with the witcher who must have a difficult time finding the witch that couldn't be found at all; not wanting to share his time with Geralt because their personalities were clashing against each other like rusty, acidic metal, "---Your highness, If you're worried about him dying in the middle of saving yer' witch whom can lift Prince Althalos' curse, I can assure you, he will not die. Legend says witchers die from monsters they hunt. The witch obviously isn't---"

The queen has raised her palm to cease his comments, completely unimpressed by how privileged he was being when it was her decision whether he would let him go or not.

"I can see how you both despise each other," she plainly stated, sounding nasally like she was too disappointed by Tybalt's actions.

At the mere exclamation of that, both men spoke in the same time. Their antipathy colliding even with their words sounding exactly what they felt for one another.

"Hate him." Geralt and Tybalt both snarled with such rancor, glaring for one more time before partially giving their whole attention to the queen who sat before the throne.

They've seen her mouth turn into frown, turning a blind eye towards the higher vampire who was left sulking for his sudden hunt. His plans with his sorceress coming to a stop for the queen's orders, intending to guard all your whereabouts in the palace as Ingrith tries to formulate a scheme to have you suffer without raising their hands on you nor using magic that will eventually fail because you were protected by a djinn.

"Tybalt. Be with the witcher. I want you guarding him until he finds the witch. The witcher shan't go back empty handed."

Tybalt couldn't help but curse beneath his breath, subtly rolling his eyes as he stood on both feet, adjusting his fur coat resting along his shoulders, "Oh, feckin' bullocks." before shaking his head as he forced a nod and approval out of him to gesture at the queen of Kaedwen.

Geralt calmly tried his best to exhale in a relaxing demeanor, his facial features twisting in utmost pique from the idea that he would be spending five days with the vampire he had a fight with back in the marketplace.

"Fuck." he lowly snarled to himself, momentarily shutting his eyes to breathe in disappointment. His head cocked to the side. Geralt felt Tybalt grip onto his armored shoulder, giving him a shallow pat to state his indignation with the whole ordeal. He turned on his heels, marching out of the throne room to fetch and pack his belongings for the journey ahead, quickly jogging out of the throne room that was making him want to curse as every second passes by with the witcher.

Queen Makeda can't help the snicker on her face, a smile forming wrinkles on the apples of her cheeks as she stated her false promises.

"You have my word about your little woman, Witcher. We will not touch her again."

Though, Geralt knew deep inside that it was all just a lie.

You've been receiving lots of personal questions from the druid. One of his queries was about the idea of wholeheartedly accepting a child from Geralt which you explained an approval if it was given in the future---or if he was even capable of giving you one. You strongly believed he can't.

Though, in the back of your head, you couldn't help but think how your child would look like with his genetics. Will she or he have white hair too? you gotta' have a child with beautiful genes somehow. An echo of hopeful, deranged voices filled your thoughts, quickly disregarding the thought in the back of your crazed head whilst hearing Eanraig bombard another question of his that kept you aware of how zealous he sounded.

"Do you love Geralt?"

"Woah. Hold your horses, Eanraig."

Subtly swallowing the anxiety away from hearing such question, you've warily cleared your throat. Your mouth wincing from the pungent taste of your after-retch. The inconspicious nullify of the subject taken heed by the scholar when you've avoided his eyes.

In-denial of the truth. Eanraig thought silently to himself while he brought his hand down, away from patting your back, "You will be giving the witcher a miracle," he lightly convinced you and decided that particulars shall be provided for the mother of the miraculous child growing inside; delaying the details with the father that would surely bring him into a shock and red-light from the witcher himself because of how having a pickney in the midst of his life will only bring his descendant danger.

"---From the night of the full moon, between a man and woman who had nature take its course, a child shall be produced,"

Mentioning that in a hot second, you were quick enough to counter the lie you ought to believe in. Trusting Geralt and his words more than ever because he knew himself better than anyone else especially in 'that' department. Thorough objection was promptly written all over your shocked, disapproving expressions; brows furrowed in worry with lips turning ajar for such sensible responsibility being given to your head like a crown fitting for you.

Was Geralt lying and he actually just wanted to get you pregnant? If so, then he was certainly a wacko for even doing it---in your world he could be arrested for lying.

"Geralt's infertile! What are you even---?!?!" you couldn't finish your sentence as the responsibility for having your lechery take over you a few nights ago was worth enough to blame. How did Eanraig knew when it hasn't reached a month after a tangle of passionate desires with the witcher? did everyone knew about it but not you both? was it why you were being hated by Ingrith because she knew you were bearing Geralt's child?

A ton rounds of bulleted questions rang inside your head after one query hasn't been answered. One by one it was hopping like rabbits chasing a baited carrot because on the other side of your head, it knew answers for your disputes within yourself.

Panic and fear over an unborn child was beginning to take a toll as you grabbed onto your roots, frustratingly tugging on them while you listened to Geralt's old friend.

"Infertile or not. As long as the other is human who possesses no magic---or better yet, both humans who possesses no magic shall receive results beyond their expectations. I have never told Geralt about this because he will never believe me. A Witcher does not take that kind of news too well---might be even saying that he would take his child as a bait to be eaten by monsters than to bring them to this world,"

You've pursed your lips, finding how true it was to hear those words from the witcher knowing that you were pregnant by his child. Was this a hoax? a dream that God wanted you to never wake up from?

Being transported to their dimension; loving a mutated human you never expected to and eventually baring a child from him when he knew he could never bore a child at all. Was this your destiny for him? giving him miracles---a child that he certainly didn't expected and needed because accepting his child of surprise was already difficult for him to undertake.

"I can totally hear him saying that." you uttered completely defeated and benumbed from the breaking news that made you forget how upset you were by Geralt's prior actions.

"You are having his child, my dear. You're carrying his scion that has been forged by the Djinn." Eanraig started his elucidation about the serious topic at hand, educating you about the accelerated gestation that the Djinn's curse may come between. Earlier telling you about the expected development because you might be seeing changes over your body than how a normal woman will be expecting.

"---The process is faster. Three times hastier than a normal pregnancy---Though, never fear for the child not to be normal."

With sangfroid, the breath that you've been holding has been puffed out with your eyes drooping closed; letting the calmness sink in without having the panic rise through your head for a hundred times because of the thought that the child would turn out different in which she may suffer in the end.

Until Eanraig decided to continue his statements that has given you whiplash.

"---Because that child is beyond normal. She'll inherit the Djinn's powers because it is a part of Matka's three wishes."

"She?" you've managed to feebly and shakily mutter beneath your soft breath, feeling the coldness wrap around you for knowing more about the child that you were currently bearing---keeping you in a constant disorient that had you staring onto your twitching fingers laid upon your thighs.

"I'll assume that the Djinn you have gotten was a Matka. The cursed Djinn who lovers try to find in order to bore an heir if they cannot create their own offspring. Matka was created to give her own powers to a progeny that would inherit her abilities---believing that her existence will help the world from lessening the bedlam within the lore of monsters and humanity,"

"You're telling me I'm really pregnant with a girl? with...with Geralt's child? This child is also...owning such power that is making me hyperventilate right now?! Is it a vampire?! What if it eats my insides just like how Edward's baby did?!" your back was still utterly stiff from the nervousness that this news has given you, the mere fact of taking care of a powerful baby pouring ice buckets on your head---the dread hitting your core from the stupefaction and fear raising a child of your own.

Your modern references has given Eanraig a nonchalant stare from him, never knowing to laugh or smile over your panicky state.

"Is the witcher a vampire?" he hesitatingly spoke, his throat sounding dry before Eanraig cleared his throat when he'd lately realized.

"No."

"Then, it shall not have any vampire blood."

Skin felt tingling as your heart couldn't stop the beating so fast, throwing you into a swivet, "I'm not prepared to be a mother, Eanraig!"

You couldn't help but reach a hand to clasp around your tightening throat, further listening to Eanraig. His expositions making you want to give him a bark of laughter due to the disbelief over what reality that destiny started giving you when the Djinn happened.

"The continent has its own supernatural contingencies that nobody may ever explain---which has given you a child of yours with the witcher. Your kingdom knows no magic based on your reactions, correct?" the druid raised a brow and grabbed both of your shoulders, firmly letting you look into his grey eyes that continued inspiriting your devastated self.

You've tentatively shook your head to give an answer. The dread gripping your heart so tight that you started breathing heavily, your fingers suddenly grabbing onto your stomach because of the sudden memory that the castle guards have placed a kick to your gut. The worry for your unborn baby bringing you into utter distress for her condition.

A loud gasp left your lips, "Wait, I've been---I've been abused---hurt---what about my child, Eanraig? If---If Geralt knows about this now, he wouldn't want my child, would he?"

"I...may never know what he thinks, little woman. He hardly speaks. Only to you, the bard and his surprise child, I assume."

"Then, should I keep this from him?"

"I doubt his mutations can keep your pregnancy as a secret,"

Panicking more than ever, you've felt your eyes well up with warmth. Signalling tears threatening to come out of it as both of your palms were on either side of your head. Quiet whining were heard in the back of your throat for the future that was bound for you especially by being thrown on the face by a brick, the brick being fate moving mountains for the witcher and his ill-fate infertility---that has been surprisingly controlled by the power of magic; black magic.

"Then, what do I do?! I don't want to raise a child on my own when I'm not even prepared to be a mother?!" Eanraig heard the sobs from you and he'd quickly gathered all of the comfort he could give by patting you on the back, calming down that tough anxiety you have.

"Cease the tears," he continued to pat, "---It'll be bad for you and the child,"

"I have a witcher baby! What do I do?!" you ranted and raved, sniffing in the same time as your fingers spread across your chest, feeling it tighten a lot more because of this serious matter. Time stood still for you, imagining what Geralt would say or tell when he couldn't even accept your love; when he was still secretive over things he wasn't comfortable about telling.

Would he be fine to have a child with a woman who was in love with him when he doesn't even know his true feelings for you until now?

"I don't know how to tell, Geralt! I don't wanna let this child grow without a father---what if I leave this world all of a sudden without him? Eanraig, what if he dies out there right now and this child grows up without a father?"

You knew, he would refuse the child you were having because of how he had a long time accepting Cirilla. A child who has already been taken care of by another---what more for a baby that he certainly had no experience of having nor wished to have?

The druid welcomed all your rants over such an important and surprising incident that existed in the white wolf's life. Completely knowing for it to be an unexpected route in his path that Eanraig could never see for him. He gave one last comforting pat on your back, nodding to you as if he was trying to let his words seep inside your head---your apprehension that he solely hoped to be the maturity of your mind.

"Let fate decide what will happen. You'll eventually need to tell the father of your child---and the witcher will know about it soon,"

Little did you know, there was already a tiny beat of a heart that seem to be inaudible for a mortal; but not for a witcher who had sensitive hearing created to catch onto the tiniest rustle of leaves till the quietest thumps of every heart.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88, @ruthoakenshield, @just-a-sad-donut, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn, @marvelousell, @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex, @fckdeusername, @evansislife

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ganymedesclock · 5 years

Note

Very great analysis on how bleak the cycle can be. What’s your take on how the cycle works regarding other villains, like Vaati, or Majora?

So I know you asked about the cycle in-universe, led here I would guess from this post, but there’s a noteworthy followup I made in that vein here, and that’s important context to how I feel about a lot of the Zelda rogues’ gallery.

Because the thing is, if you go looking for qualities to hate, you’ll always find them.

Ghirahim invades Link’s space in a way that feels- to me- very gay panic. He talks in luscious detail about wanting to do violence onto Link’s person. He threatens to run through his subordinates.

Zant creeps on Midna at a major part. And, Zant’s very easy for me to relate to and want to defend, because the big other thing used to make Zant seem “scary and off-putting” is his literal autistic meltdowns. They may not be called that by name, but Zant thrashing, bending weirdly, the noises he makes and slamming his head on the floor when frustrated and overwhelmed, as an autistic person, I recognize intimately. I can’t even say it’s that much of a caricature of stimming and meltdowns.

Vaati kidnaps “beautiful maidens”. We’re given plenty of reasons to hate them.

My beef is, a lot of these issues feel petty- not in their in-universe damage done, but petty in a writing sense.

Hearing that Ghirahim controls the bokoblins through threat of force is basically meaningless. We can’t really be all up in arms that Ghirahim is threatening to stab bokoblins because in that cutscene alone we tear them apart en masse ourselves. We can have the excuse that they’re our Enemies, but they’re Ghirahim’s subordinates, but really, how much of an excuse is that? Yes, there’s a difference between stabbing enemies and stabbing allies, but The Legend of Zelda is not a work that has any kind of moral high ground to point fingers about dehumanizing people. We’re not even dignified a response from the Bokoblins. You could omit Ghirahim’s threat entirely and nothing about that scene’s weight or context would change.

Zant getting uncomfortably up in Midna’s space is just supposed to be a cruelty that make us feel more justified when Zant dies in a comparatively graphic and painful-looking manner. They are not used as meaningful characterizing moments. It doesn’t illustrate that Zant wields cultural power over Midna, because in their dynamic, both make clear that Midna was the favored one- she was chosen to rule- while criticizing Zelda, she alludes to having a life of luxury herself (since she’s projecting her own issues onto Zelda in that scene) while Zant at least perceives himself as having lived a tortured life and Midna doesn’t contradict him or call him a liar, merely insists that he was power hungry and that’s why “everyone” felt justified turning away from him.

It doesn’t indicate Zant really wants Midna because it seems to just exist as an opportunity to set up Zant attacking her for siding with the light world. It doesn’t even really indicate Midna’s character growth because she doesn’t seem to seriously consider Zant’s words and she never suggests in the past she might’ve gone along with him.

The thing about The Cycle and it’s cruelty is that it’s something that exists halfway in and halfway out of the fourth wall. Hyrule can’t stay at peace. It can’t be stable and happy. It has to be imperiled because they want to keep making games.

The villains in the Zelda series are created to fill a role. They’re boss fights. In that sense, they’re trophy bucks to be hunted down for our entertainment. You could arguably say the same thing about any video game boss, but, I would argue, a well-written game gives you reasons to find opposing this character meaningful.

The Zelda series does not do this.

The Zelda series mostly gives you some cheap heat excuses and a lot of vague words about how someone is Evil or Diabolical. Next time you fire up a Zelda game, just, stop and pay attention to the cutscenes and look at just how much of a given character’s crimes are: 1. vague, 2. only ever stated by other characters who already hate that character, 3. make no sense as a strategic move unless you intuit or assume a lot of information the game never tells you.

It’s really easy to assume in the average game that Ganondorf- or Vaati, or Skull Kid, or Zant, or Ghirahim- is running wild killing people and burning the countryside. But if you actually look at it, there doesn’t seem to be a clear thesis to who’s hurt and who isn’t.

Why do the Zora get frozen? Why is Valoo’s tail attacked? Why does Zant attack Hyrule’s light spirits but doesn’t seem to spread the twilight to Snowpeak or the Gerudo Desert when they’re seemingly unprotected?

So the end result is you get split one of two ways. You either trust the Experience of the game- that tells you the entire countryside is suffering because of Vaati- and thus, you come up with explanations and cruel attitudes Vaati has that clearly explain all of his behavior- or you don’t, and then you sit there going “man Ezlo I know you’re salty over being turned into a hat and all, but isn’t it a little fucked up that you’re this willing to talk about your underage orphan apprentice like maybe it was an inevitability he’d go mad with power and there’s nothing to do but forge a sword and kill him?”

The game wants you to assume there’s no way to talk down or negotiate with any of these people. It tells you that there will be Dire Consequences if this person’s actions are not stopped.

But Vaati’s a child who wants power and doesn’t even seem to have a clear thesis of what he’s doing with it besides that he just vaguely wants to be ‘in charge’.

But Ghirahim seems to have never thought of himself as anything but an instrument and his parting comments to Link suggest that he is only, just, starting to actually feel any real standout emotion towards him beyond annoyance, and that emotion is not rage or revulsion but curiosity. He only really acts out of loyalty to an entity that on-screen, hurts him and literally dehumanizes him- turns him into an immobile object. Something we’re told is a tragedy when it happens to Fi.

But Zant talks at great length about how miserable he was, and Midna insinuates “everyone” hated him and thought he was shifty and untrustworthy, and in his own memories, he was sobbing alone and immediately latched onto and literally worshiped Ganondorf, for... telling him he was important and offering to give him power.

Much is made of Skull Kid’s loneliness and ultimately they’re just a kid, go easy on them, they were tempted by Majora- but we have no idea what Majora itself is, besides that they’re a mask, and in the entirety of Majora’s Mask, many discussions are made about how masks are the product of spirits filled with regret, and one must work with them to bring them peace- and Majora itself speaks in a childish manner.

Chancellor Cole, you can argue, even looks more like a “real evil” in that he’s a scheming bureaucrat who uses his position as a respected adult to talk over and endanger Zelda and Link, and even he’s thrown away by Malladus when the latter needs a free body.

The most in-universe explanation, going by just what Nintendo’s official lore tells us, is that Demise’s hatred seeks a suitable vessel, and Ganondorf is just its ‘favorite’, and it’ll happily latch onto anybody else in a position to screw over the heroes. But that raises a lot of questions and leaves a lot of things unaddressed.

So it comes down to a question of, what do we decide here that we trust? How many of these guys would stay enemies if we had any capacity to talk to them and understand their problems? So many of these guys feel like they’re trapped or hurting or miserable or just had a completely unspecified “hunger for power” because that sounds threatening, but the people who desperately want to feel strong are usually people who, for some reason or another, feel denied, repressed, or looked down on.

Basically, the characterization is vague, and mostly, we’re assured they’re evil by other people in the game. To me, this comes across untrustworthy, especially when, in effect, a lot of these characters talk or act like they were (or are shown to be) wronged somehow, and when the game seems to act as if your only options are “let them do whatever they want” and “kill them where they stand” with a clear insinuation that the murder is the right and proper choice.

Which is kinda the whole problem. The average Zelda game spends however much time it dedicates to the main villain, trying to tell you to kill them. This is at odds with Link as someone who engages with and helps a lot of people. And often “however much time it dedicates to the main villain” is not that much time at all! You’re often just, like. having a fun little happy adventure with a scattered handful of interjections of “so everything is the fault of this one guy, and, uh, you should stab them.”

#Legend of Zelda #readmore #the hour is late and I need to sleep #so I hope this is coherent #mrneighbourlove

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argonas · 5 years

Text

A Friendship Reforged

Boralus felt somehow familiar to Argonas. He’d grown accustomed to human architecture, certainly. But it was beyond that. The sounds, the smells, the overall aesthetic resonated with Argonas’ memories. Perhaps his time aboard the Quel’Telan - that ocean smell, that refreshing sea breeze, the gulls and the harbor bells… Civilization. He’d been far removed from it, for easily a year... or more? He wasn’t entirely sure. It felt bittersweet to be back. He felt so out of place… yet precisely where he needed to be. Surreal.

He had stowed his Vindicator’s armor. As comfortable as it was to adorn it again, he somehow didn’t feel worthy of it. Not yet. The Light had only just returned to him. And while he’d been practicing - reacquainting himself with its warmth - he was hardly as proficient with it as he once was. Certainly not as proficient as a true Vindicator ought to be. The armor rested once more in the armor crate he’d brought with him, and locked away in Boralus’ counting house. He’d wear it again someday. But not today.

Instead, he adorned an old plated set he wore in Northrend. It fit a younger Argonas well - as he was now, a little tightly. But it served its purpose. He sheathed his crystalline mace to his belt clip, and secured his shield to his back - still irreversibly damaged from his fighting on Argus. Scarred, as many things that returned from that hellish planet were. Serviceable, nonetheless, like the rest of his attire.

Seeing Sylaess here both raised his spirits and dampened them all at once. He was happy that some of his old friends yet survived, and continued to fight. But the last time he’d seen her was Tanaan… devoid of the Light’s warmth, but blessed by the warmth of Sinafay’s companionship. He couldn’t deny it; he missed her terribly. No one connected with him like she did. He’d tried already to fill the Sina-shaped hole in his heart, left behind when she died in his arms. But no one fit. There was only perhaps one who might come close… and she’d returned to Azeroth recently, he learned.

That was why he was here, after all. To find Sinafay - the one he’d trained on Draenor, brought to the Light and instilled his faith and honorable beliefs into. When he learned she’d returned, he knew he had to find her. But he didn’t know where she was, precisely. Only the name of one who did - Avehi.

Avehi knew Boralus well, by now. From the grounds of the regal Keep to the shadiest tavern on the dockside, she was well-acquainted with the Kul Tiran capital. And frankly… she didn’t care for it. It was nice enough, but hardly anywhere she cared to reside for more than a day or two. She much prefered Stormwind between visits to the warfronts. But at Mierne’s behest, she ventured back to Boralus to find a person of interest. Great interest. Someone Avehi felt like she knew well enough, second hand, after Sinafay’s incessant praising and daydreaming about him. It would be nice to put a face to the mythical name she’d heard over and over again - Argonas.

Word was he died on Argus. News of the Tower spread quickly through the ranks. And the death of a Vindicator wasn’t something that generally went unknown among other Vindicators. Word of his demise spread quickly enough, reaching her ears during her time there. She mourned his loss; not so much for his sake, but for Sinafay’s.

But now, he was revealed to be alive. How great a friend she’d turn out to be if she managed to deliver Argonas to Sinafay - hopefully raising both their spirits after such a devastating return to Azeroth it had been for both of them. Her tail flickered excitedly at the prospect - to see the look on Sinafay’s face… All she had to do now was find him. It shouldn’t be too hard, though - she needed only find a big Vindicator that looked lost as could be in the Kul Tiran capital.

Her lichfire eyes darted from Draenei face to Draenei face, sizing up each of the males that passed her by as she looked out over the Tradewind Market. He wasn’t a Lightforged… at least, not that Mierne had mentioned. She hoped he wasn’t, nonetheless… her issues with the Lightforged Draenei grew every day. She kept to eyeing the normal Draenei, scanning each face as she looked for Argonas. One too short, one too old… one looked like he was, perhaps, Argonas - but upon closer inspection, he was clearly a mage of some kind. Avehi sighed.

--Then she saw him. She was sure of it! Broad shoulders, plated armor, the look of a Vindicator, lost and unfamiliar with his surroundings. She approached him, cutting across the crowd until she was upon him.

“Vindicator Argonas.” she stated, rather than asked.

Argonas turned, a hint of nervousness in his eye as he looked Avehi over. Then his expression turned rather stern. Almost... hostile.

“Avehi… the Adamant.” he stated back.

The name sounded familiar to him, when Mierne spoke it. But it was only when he saw her for himself - undeath notwithstanding - that he recognized her from days long past. Avehi, however, presumed that perhaps Mierne had shared her title and name both with him, after they parted.

“Correct. A pleasure to meet you, surely.” she responded, as she looked him over. “I have heard a great deal about you from both Sinafay and Mierne.”

Argonas’ scoffed at that, stoic face faltering for a moment as he considered what exactly Mierne may have told her about him. It didn’t matter. He shook his head.

“You do not recognize me, yourself?”

Avehi blinked. She furrowed her brow, curiously, before shaking her head.

“I… don’t. I’m not sure we’ve ever met.” she replied.

Argonas responded with a hollow, sarcastic laugh. He shook his head, as he looked Avehi over. A part of him wasn’t surprised she didn’t remember him. Their first meeting was decades past. And their last interaction was, in a word, sour. She may not have remembered, but he would never forget.

“Typical.” he chuffed. “I cannot imagine you take care to remember anyone. Not anyone you are so quick to dismiss, in any case!”

Avehi’s confused look only deeped, as she looked Argonas over. Such ire! She didn’t understand why, but clearly she’d slighted him somehow in the past, and simply didn’t remember. Her tail began to flicker anxiously, lichfire eyes instinctively sizing him up as she sensed the hostilities. Composure kept, she cleared her throat.

“I… apologize.” she stated. “I don’t remember you, or how I apparently wronged you. If--”

“Valuura’s daughter, yes? Valuura of Shadowmoon?” Argonas pressed, arms and expression both crossed. “You and your mother are thieves. You stole several forging techniques from my father!”

Avehi’s tail twitched - no longer from anxiety or awkwardness… but in anger. Few things cut straight to her defensive side like insulting her mother - the woman who raised her all on her own, imparted her trade and wisdom, and kept her safe through all the worlds the Draenei visited. The air around her grew cold in an instant, frost immediately forming on her armor plating as her eyes flared a threatening blue.

“Mind your tongue, Vindicator Argonas.” she scowled, hands clenching at her sides. “Most of our people think you’re dead - insult my mother again, and they’ll have the right of it.”

“Hollow threats will not mask the truth of it. Your mother took techniques for bonding metals and setting gemstones from my father, Raaskus - the greatest armorsmith in Talador!”

“She would never! My--” Avehi glared - then stopped, eyes widening. “--Raaskus, of Talador?”

She visibly relaxed - smirked, even, as a silent chuckle caused her shoulders to bounce. She shook her head.

“Hmph! You find your mother’s thievery amusing? Unsurprising!” Argonas glowered. “She--”

“They were partners, Argonas.” she explained - very much amused! “They worked together on a great many things, crafting-wise. I have a collection of their correspondence to prove it so, too.”

Argonas opened his mouth to speak again, but… he was stunned - literally. Speechless and awestruck. His anger left him in an instant, replaced by confusion and… awkwardness. He narrowed his eyes some, as he tried to speak once again.

“I… er… that is…” he fumbled for a moment, broad shoulders slumping.

Avehi shook her head once more. She, too relaxed her defensive stance, as the air around her warmed once more. Instead, her expression grew more somber, and empathetic.

“I remember she was quite distraught the day she learned he had died in Jorune. Crushed by a cave in… such a horrible way to go.” she looked over Argonas, brow rising. “What made you believe she stole such techniques?”

“Well, ah… you did.” he shrugged in response. “We met once, when our Vindicator squads rallied in Tuurem. Everyone admired your hammer, and… I saw it was created with his technique. I asked you where you got it, and you told me you made it using a technique your mother, Valuura, taught you.”

He sank lower, cheeks darkening with embarrassment at the poor assumption. For such a big Draenei, he never felt so small…

“I pressed you for more information, and… you dismissed me, coldly.” he went on. “I was so sure it was because you and your mother stole the techniques, and you did not wish it to be discovered.”

Avehi, too, frowned. She shook her head.

“I apologize. I do not recall that. If I had known you were Raaskus’ son, perhaps our meeting would have gone differently, yes?” she sighed. “My sincere condolences for your father, and please forgive me for dismissing you so.”

“It… it is well.” Argonas nodded. “I apologize as well, for speaking ill of your mother. If she truly was my father’s friend, I have no doubt she was upstanding and noble.” Argonas dipped his head. “Perhaps, someday, you can tell me of her, and their work together?”

“I would be honored to. But first… I suppose we should discuss why you are here, yes?” Avehi nodded. “You wish to meet Sinafay, sooner than later, I am sure. And from our discussions about you, she would surely wish to see you, too.”

Argonas perked at that, shoulders straightening as he looked Avehi over.

“You know where she is, then?”

“I do. But… I must warn you, she believes you are dead. I… told her so, before I knew you were not. I would advise you to approach gently, cautiously, as seeing you may come as quite a shock.”

Argonas sighed. He felt a wave of nervousness wash over him. Was this a good idea? Should he seek to meet her after all this time, especially if she believed him to be dead? No… no he needed to see her. A former pupil… a former lover… a friend, in a world where he now had so few… He looked to Avehi, and nodded once, resolutely.

“Where do I find her?”

#Argonas #Avehi #Sinafay #Mierne #Vindicators #my writing

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jbsargent · 6 years

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Character Day - Blast Back [Original Fic Fest]

Hi! I wanted to try my hand at @originalficfest‘s Character Day event. I’m a little late, but I felt this was a good place for me to start!

This is a snippet from Blast Back, a dungeonpunk adventure story I’m writing episodically (hosted on my blog). As a little primer: four years ago, a young boy named Dylock was saved by Din from highway bandits, who had set upon and killed the rest of his family as they were moving to the city. Din was stabbed in the left arm from the fight, and has suffered with the injury since. Though not related, old man Din treats the boy as his own and tries to provide a good life to help him forge his own future.

***

A growing Dylock ran to the kitchen of the cozy townhouse he shared with the aging Din. Din had set a soup to cook in the early hours of the day, and now began pouring the broth, freckled with vegetables and small cuts of meat, into two wooden bowls with his right hand. Dylock came up to the old man’s side, and reached for the ladle in the pot.

“I can help, what do you want me to do?” Dylock asked.

Din brushed the boy’s hand aside, taking the ladle and filling up a bowl. “You can take that bowl with you, and sit.”

Dylock pulled the bowl from the counter, and stood back, waiting for Din. The old man set the ladle back in the pot, and took the remaining bowl in his hand before moving over to the quaint little table that took up much of the kitchen area. Dylock followed behind, waiting as Din settled into a seat at the table. The old man strenuously lifted his left arm, fighting back a grimace of pain as he did so, and rested it on the table next to his bowl. Dylock sat down on the side of the table, to Din’s left.

“How is it?” Dylock asked.

“Hm, same as always…” Din responded, glancing at his left hand.

“…it’s still there,” Dylock said, smiling.

Over the years since Din had saved the boy, his arm had lost some feeling to it, and couldn’t be raised very high without inflicting serious pain that Din would much rather do without. Some days, it hurt more than others.

“Let me know if there is anything I can help you with,” Dylock said.

“As of now, you can enjoy this fine soup I labored over a hot stove all day for, just for you,” Din said to the boy, lifting the spoon from the bowl and scooping up a small pool of steaming broth.

“But you were reading all day.” Dylock pouted.

“And sleeping in my armchair. ‘Ey now, don’t push the greens around, scoop them up too,” Din said.

Minutes passed with only the sounds of slurping and the subtle knock of wooden spoons on bowls. It was the boy who hesitantly broke the silence.

“I found a company tag in your coffer…” Dylock muttered.

The old man chuckled. “Hrm…what’s left of it. Sniffing about were you?”

Dylock slowly nodded his head, feeling guilty for rifling through his guardian’s effects.

“It’s okay, son…I’ve never known you to be a child to shy away from secrets,” Din said, smiling as he dipped his spoon into the warm soup. “You’ve yourself an adventurer’s spirit.”

Din opened his left hand, expecting something to be placed in it. Dylock reached into his pocket and dug out a small slab of metal on a thin chain. Dylock set it into the old man’s open palm, letting the chain drape over the back of his hand.

“Were you a knight?” Dylock asked.

Din stared longingly at the small, flat rectangular piece of metal engraved with information regarding the bearer of the tag; name, birthdate, company affiliation. This particular one, however, was badly damaged, half of it was missing completely, and another portion of it was illegible with scorch marks. All that could be made out was part of an indiscernible insignia, and ‘ardin’.

“Something like that,” Din replied wistfully.

Any sort of official combatant was registered with the Unified Realms Guild, who kept a record of those combatants to track company affiliations, movements, performance, and notify next of kin in the case of death. To some, wearing company tags around the neck represented the person’s quality, someone willing to fight for what they believed in, to be a hero to the people. Others, however, felt that company tags were the mark of an early and bloody death, a noose that slowly tightened around the wearer’s neck until their demise. Din, like so many others, started out believing the former, but through a long life of conflict eventually came to agree with the latter. To Din, company tags were to identify the dead, even if they still walked.

“It was quite a time ago, though. It’s a part of me I don’t much care to think about,” Din continued.

“What do you mean?” Dylock asked, choking down a spoonful of soup with a large vegetable in it. “You protected people, didn’t you? Are there no grand stories to tell?”

“There are many stories I could tell, but…not all of them are grand. They’re all just the stories of a survivor,” Din said.

“Surviving is good. It means you live to fight another day,” Dylock said as he smiled, thinking of his heroic days playing in the woods where he’d faced countless imaginary dangers.

“There is a saying: war doesn’t decide who is right, only who is left. The cost of surviving is sometimes steep, young one,” Din replied.

Din watched as Dylock’s brow rose in childlike confusion.

“Sometimes…to protect others means to make sacrifices, and sometimes…you will sacrifice more than you were ever willing to,” Din said sullenly. “Living to fight another day is no different. Oftentimes, others will die so you may live.”

Dylock nodded slowly, muttering, “I understand” as he scooped up another spoonful of soup. “Like my parents…”

“Correct. In the end, we can only carry on their names and remember them,” Din said.

“Is Din your full name?” Dylock asked.

“No…it’s a name I picked up over time; Reardin. It’s a moniker used by men who commit themselves to greater causes,” Din explained, sipping soup from his spoon.

“What is your real name, then?”

“It’s of little import now. I let go of the name my family gave me a long time ago. The man with that old name made many mistakes in his life, and I would rather distance myself from him. I’m a cowardly old man who runs from old problems…you, Dylock, were the first thing I’ve been proud of in a long while.”

“Do you not miss your family?” Dylock asked.

“Sometimes…but I’ve grieved over them long ago. You’re my family now, Dylock. You’re what is important to me,” Din said, smiling at the boy.

Dylock gulped down another spoonful, and happily smiled back. Din looked at the damaged company tag that sat in his left hand. He struggled to feel the metal against his palm, even when he clenched his fingers around the jagged, worn edges. Din sighed heavily, lost in thought over years gone by.

“Are you done with your meal?” the old man asked. “I’ve got something for you.”

Dylock, hearing there was something waiting for him, picked up his bowl and scooped the last bits of soup into his mouth. Dylock set down his bowl and motioned his head in a large nod, his cheeks still burgeoning with a mouthful of broth. Din chuckled watching the boy.

“Come along now.” The old man rose to his feet, sliding the damaged tag into his pocket with an aching left hand.

Dylock followed closely behind and the old man trudged up the creaky old stairs of their home.

“Dylock, I think it’s time you and I had a talk. I’m not going to be around forever,” the old man said.

“That’s impossible, sir. You’re the strongest man I know!” Dylock said in disbelief.

“Heh…do I look like that man from years ago who took you in?” Din asked, tiredly making his way up the stairs, using the railing heavily for support.

“Well…no…I guess not.”

“A time shall come when I will no longer be here for you, and you’ll have to plot your own course in life,” the old man said, turning at the top of the stairs, looking down at the boy. “My only regret is that I coddled you so.”

“Coddled me? You gave me a nice home. You took care of me. Sir, if not for you, I would have been left on the side of the road with my parents,” Dylock claimed. “You have been a great father to me.”

Din shuffled into his room, and Dylock followed. “Yes…but…I tried so hard to keep you from a life like the one I once lived. Now, in my old age, I understand the error of my ways – I understand now…that some things are just meant to be. You’re an adventurer at heart, Dylock, and it was wrong of me to keep you from that.”

The old man opened his closet door, and reached for a long object wrapped in a red cloth that leaned against the adjacent wall. “I know all about your little excursions in the woods,” he said.

“You know about that?” Dylock asked, slightly embarrassed.

“Of course, I know all too well the scrapes and blisters of venturous ten-year-olds, like yourself. Which is why…I’m gifting you this sword,” the old man said, presenting the wrapped gift to Dylock.

“Sir…I…” Dylock stammered, unwrapping the cloth around the weapon.

“The world is dangerous, this you know…I believe it’s time you had this,” Din stated.

Dylock pulled the blade halfway out of the sheath, admiring the mirror sheen of the steel as he saw the reflection of his own eyes. “Is this…to protect me? In your stead?” the boy asked.

The old man shook his head. “No…my boy. A sword is not for protection – it is for killing. I thought differently once, that a sword was for defending the weak, but inevitably it all leads to death.”

“But knights use swords, and knights protect people,” Dylock said.

“Knights protect people, yes…but their swords are used to fight. Remember, however, that your family was cut down by swords, wielded by bandits who cared nothing of people,” Din explained.

“You are right,” Dylock thought aloud, sheathing the sword.

“A sword is a tool, a means to an end. Knights are virtuous because they choose to be, just as bandits choose not to be.”

“Then I choose to be good. To protect people,” Dylock said, holding the sword in his arms, clutched across his chest. “My sword is going to be used for protecting others, just like you did for me.”

“Then the burden of taking or sparing a life is now yours, son,” the old man said, resting a tired hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Dylock wondered.

“Dylock…I know that you care deeply about making a difference,” Din began.

The young Dylock nodded hesitantly.

“But, you must remember that no matter what actions you take, lives can be lost. If you act, people can be lost, and if you do not act, they can still be lost. Lives have an intrinsic value to different people, and in time, it will be up to your discretion to decide what lives are more precious. Sometimes making a difference isn’t as important as making sure those you care about stay safe.

“One day, you will come to understand that sometimes the lives you value most are the necessary tender that must be paid for peace and happiness, and it will be up to you to decide whether you want to make that exchange,” Din said, lowering his weary body down onto his bed, glancing at Dylock as he reached for a folded parchment in his jacket pocket. “However, not everything I gift you today is struggle and hardship.”

Din handed the parchment to Dylock, who fumbled around to hold his new sword under his arm. Taking the letter, the boy unfurled it to read the contents.

“Sir…this is…an acceptance letter to the Luna Caeruleum Academy! You enrolled me?” Dylock said excitedly.

A large smile grew underneath Din’s beard. “If you wish, you’ll begin studying there next week.”

“Sir! This is…this is incredible! The academy has created some of the greatest adventure companies in Troima! The Ivory Spears! The Holy Shields! The Wyrm Strikers!” Dylock jubilantly shouted, waving both his sheathed sword and the acceptance letter.

“The Lionhead Corps, the Troubadours of Eidlewine, the Arcanum Shell Heaters,” Din added happily.

“Yes, them too! All of them! Sir…I am forever grateful to you. How can I ever repay you?”

“My boy, all you need to do for me is become the admirable man I know you can,” Din replied.

***

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and I’d love to hear what you think!

#originalficfest #writeblr #dungeonpunk #writing #fiction #fantasy #blast back

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bydeathbyblade · 6 years

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8 facts about Ra'rhuk

1. Family: Ra'rhuk actually has a large portion of his family that are living. He has a half brother by the name of Kor'akk. He has an aunt, San'gee. A cousin Ren'nari and his two children by the names of Enzi and Safi. His uncle Raji'din however shares his condition, was the one that ultimately caused him to become a death knight. Ra'rhuk relates with Raji'din the most. He keeps a fair distance from his living relatives, as he does not wish for them to become a liability due to the work he does. 2. Work: Ra'rhuk first serves the directive and order of the Ebon Blade. He secondly follows the Horde’s current rules and regulations. Thirdly he adheres to the tribe he works for standards of behavioral protocol. Ra'rhuk attempts to observe and reflect with consideration on all customs, and regulations when dealing with diplomatic formality, precedence, and etiquette. This code of conduct is practiced towards all races he encounters within the Horde’s and the Neutral governed territories. 3. Hobbies: He is known for his skill in black/silver smithing, rune forging, as well as a farrier at times. He is known to make fine weapons, shields, armor and accessories for his allies. He dabbles in Book Clubs, not as in reading, but in making designer clubs and maces out of books for those that keep his company. It was a running joke off a misunderstanding, that continues onward. He enjoys socializing, observing the living and their interactions with each other. He finds it entertaining even if he is not a direct part of the interactions. 4. Life: Ra'rhuk was once the middle child of a large well to do family. His father Zor'atus had three mates, his mother Krena the white, was the third mate, and he was the first born of that union. He had a total of eight brother's and two sisters, only one brother survives to this day. Ra'rhuk was born before the Drakkari empire’s collapse, he had grown in the growing shadow of the great nation Zul'drak as she was still on the brink of her finest hours, he was a soldier on the front lines in life during her crumbling demise. He had only the best his disposal, which the harsh life of the north could offer, a prestigious education, a home of elaborate carved stone in Drak'Mabwa, a respectable position in the community, an earned title and regard amongst the warrior ranks, he held plots of land in Drak'sotra which produced wheat and poppies, raptors, and many other rewards for his service. His service had brought him many riches and finery his heart desired. He had lived a split life of comforts and battle from his first breath. He had grown with the honor codes of a warrior, lived well, followed orders, and in the end the greatest achievement to die with honor. 5. Undeath: Just as he was a proficient negotiator and soldier in life, his capabilities caused him to swiftly rise within the elite ranks of the Scourge. He was used at first as a shock troop against his own people, he then was moved to the front lines of the battle eventually given a prestigious placement in the aftermath. He selected what dead, and fallen hero's he believed could be raised relatively intact in mind to further the King's design, and to ensure that which was taken off the fields of battle to the appropriate locations to be raised. He only came to know of the Ebon Blade after the Lich King's demise as he was he was freed from the tendrils that held his mind. It was his return to his homeland that had the Ebon Blade's interest in him, he was introduce within the ranks at Ebon Watch. Since his resurrection, he has been a valued ally to many individuals, as much as he has been an opposing force to be reckoned with towards others. 6. Intimacy: This is something he struggles with, not that he is against touch or forms of emotional bonding. It is that he cannot bridge that gap for himself towards others. He does not feel a need to touch others on a casual, friendly, or otherwise basis. He does not immediately hug others, unless someone living states flat out that they need a hug, and no other being is in the vicinity to perform it. Even if someone is in tears bawling, he will just sit there waiting for the emotional outburst to pass. Now, if something is mentioned enough out of a habitual stand point he will do it, as if it is a custom to be followed. He has certain associates, and friends, that he does greet with an embrace of a hug every time. However, this action is not motivated from a personal desire to, only that it has been demanded of him and he believes that is the acceptable way to behave. A reach for him is an unmotivated action without another's voiced wishes to be comforted, a subtle gesture to a touch to a hand, or a shoulder, a touch to someone's hair just because he finds it fascinating. He is very reflective of other's expressions, he has a dry humor, these vague tells of a emotional presence deeply contained out of his reach beneath the surface. He does laugh, he does smile, even though his voice remains in that monotoned echo. 7. Vision: He is color blind.... He sees between realms, the spirit and the living, in shades of lich fire blue. ( You know when you die in game, and you are at the graveyard? He sees like that, but in shades of blue. ) He can recall what colors look like as he has full memory. It is a secret desire for him to see colors as he was meant to while living as the memory soon fades from his grasp when it's not described to him. Certain colors he struggles to recall more then others. Bright light can cause irritation, he rather be shrouded in shadow, or be in the shade then standing under the sun. 8. Mount | Pets: His mount is an iron bound wraith charger, by the name of Wraith. A spectral steed that requires little maintenance. The only other thing that is close to being considered a pet is a reanimated monkey claw by the name of That. That was gifted to him by one his charges that he guarded during an excavation in Uldum. The mysterious claw comes and goes as it pleases, Ra’rhuk does not question it’s absence nor it’s presence.

#8 facts on Ra'rhuk

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jotawakening-blog · 7 years

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21 Fentuary, 5A 169: Man in a Bear Suit

I wake up to find that, despite my drinking the previous night, I am in a fit state to get back to adventuring, and so I do. To begin with, there’s one final thing I wanted to do at the Elemental Workshop. Specifically, I’ve already seen that unprimed elemental metal can be fashioned into a passable hat, but is the reverse also true? Can I use a bar of elemental mind metal to make a better elemental shield? I have no training in magical theory, so my only way to find out is to try it. And so, I descend into the elemental workshop once more and follow the same procedure as last time (including the nastily exhausting brain drain) to prime a mind bar, then bring it up to the workbenches and bash it into a shield. And… from my cursory inspection of it, it seems to work! It doesn’t seem to be much stronger than the one I originally made, though, so for all its intricacy, the elemental priming process isn’t a technological revolution. Oh well, at least now I know.

So, where to next? Most of my outstanding business lies in the Fremennik Province, but first, I need a drink— or, more precisely, I need to make the final stop on my bar crawl, the Forester’s Arms here in Yanille! I walk up to the bar with my bar crawl card and ask the bartender to do his worst. Taking me for a true Fremennik, the bartender pours me a glass of Liverbane Ale. It’s got one hell of a kick, but I gulp it down and have the bartender sign my card.

The next part of the day is somewhat lost in an alcoholic haze, for in my weakened mental state, the ale goes to my head and my decisions become not entirely coherent. I think what happened is that I got it in my head to look for treasure using my enchanted key, which I’d been keeping on me and which was getting warmer and warmer the further north-east, and deduced that it was pointing me in the direction of Catherby. I have vague memories of stumbling down the forest road and reaching the village, then going into the fishing store and haggling with the shopkeeper, Harry, for a pet fish. At length, I convince him to let me have one, and he gives me a small net with which to catch it from his aquarium. Any sort of fishing in my current state is unlikely to end well… and, indeed, I mis-balance and tumble headfirst into the aquarium! The coldness of the water and Harry’s angry yelling jolt me out of my inebriation, and I scoop up a fish and run for it, quite embarrassed at myself for making such a fool of myself. Well… I now have one fish.

Once I’ve regained my wits and changed into some dry clothes, I compose myself and check the enchanted key to see whether I was going in the right direction. Sadly, I discover that my drunken instincts have failed me and the key is distinctly colder than I remember it being. Oh well, perhaps it’ll get warmer as I keep going toward the Fremennik Province.

From experience, I know that there’s no bank up in those chilled lands, so I withdraw the things I will need at the Catherby bank before setting off. Let’s see: white pearl fruit, check. Four sapphires, check. Water runes, check. Cosmic runes…? Aw, crap, I’m down one cosmic rune. Right, I think I’ll need to make a quick trip to Varrock. Luckily I can teleport, and do so.

I stay in Varrock for just long enough to buy the rune and put a lot of the loot I’ve accumulated over my travels up for sale, then break the teleport tablet Ali the Wise was so kind as to give me to return to Seers’ Village. In the village, I visit the church to offer up a few prayers for my venture’s success, then go north into Fremennik country. As I walk down the road, the enchanted key grows hotter and hotter. I make some detours to the side of the road to figure out where it is hottest, but it turns out it’s repairing to a point north of the river, in the Fremennik lands proper. So I keep following the key into Fremennik country until I reach a point in the forest where it is steaming hot! At that point, I drop the key and start digging. I unearth a chest containing a bunch of useful things: fifteen law runes, ten hunks of mithril ore and some steel arrows! Wonderful: I know I can put this stuff to good use!

Naturally, once I’ve dug up the chest, I feel the key again, to see whether it re-oriented itself to some other buried treasure. Indeed, it seems to have: the key is warm, and while that may be due to residual heat from the treasure I just found, the reading seems promising.

Okay, now on to my errands in the Fremennik lands. My first order of business should probably be to deliver the fruit to the mountain nomads so that they can start growing it. After all, their food supply is probably quite dire right now, so I think it’s appropriate that they get priority. So, I go up to the mountain camp and show the fruit to the chieftain. He is unimpressed: even if the fruit is as hardy as they say, he admonishes me, one piece will not feed the tribe. I guess I’ll need to plant it if the tribe is to be satisfied… but where?

I walk around the camp looking for a suitable location, then decide that this is a decision best left to the tribe. What I can do, though, is provide the seeds, and so I carefully dissect the fruit and dig them out, then give these to the chieftain. This offer he will accept, and he thanks me for my generous gift. Great, with any luck, the tribe will be able to survive the winter. Now, I should report my success to Asleif.

I walk back out to the mountain lake and call out to Asleif’s spirit. She replies, her voice a whisper in the mist rising above the waters, and I tell her of my success in giving the tribe a food supply and brokering a peace with Rellekka. The news seems to gladden her, but she tells me there is one more thing I must yet do. Specifically, her father continues to refuse to believe that she is dead, and I must prove it to him before he can get some closure. She asks me to investigate her death, and says it occurred on the banks of the lake: she was sitting there when some monster attacked her. That’s all she’s got, but she hopes it’ll be enough for me to go on.

I thank her for the information and get to work looking around the banks of the lake for any dens or ambush points that might contain some proof of Asleif’s demise. Initially, my search turns up little, but then I notice a cave entrance in the rock wall at the back side of the pool. That looks promising, but the entrance is all overgrown, and I stupidly didn’t bring a hatchet. I know the Fremennik in Rellekka will not trade with me because I’m not one of them, which leaves me with little choice but to trek back to Seers’ Village and grab my own from the bank. There’s an upside to this, though: I can at least clear out some of the stuff that’s been cluttering my bag!

There’s just enough daylight left for me to get there and back to the cavern entrance. With my axe, I clear a path into the cave and step inside. The cave is a narrow passage that eventually widens into an expansive cavern, and it is filled with bones mostly animal, some of them human. Stomping around inside is a bipedal, bear-like monster with wicked-looking talons! That must be the beast that killed Asleif! I leap out at it, but to my surprise, it calls out to me, demanding that I stand down my weapons. I’m startled enough to comply, and ask it who… or what… it is. It replies that it’s the guardian of these mountains, the god of the northern sky… the Kendal! I ask it whether it knows anything of a creature who killed a tribeswoman around here, fully expecting the beast to attack me, but it instead berates me for occupying its time with trivialities. It is, after all, a god!

…Or is it? Something about the beast seems fake, somehow. I taunt it, calling it a fairground attraction and a man in a bear suit. The creature responds by getting very tense and asking me how I guessed its secret! I tell it I didn’t: I just said it looks like a man in a bear suit! I ask the man why he’s pretending to be a god, and he tells me he’s exploiting the tribe’s superstitions in order to be left alone. I ask him about the corpses, and he replies they’re mostly troll, or else wild animal. However, in the winter, when there was no other food supply, he would butcher a member of the tribe… but that hasn’t happened in years, not since the old entrance to the cave, the one I came through, became overgrown. Before that, he says, he did kill one Fremennik woman…

I ask if I can see the body. He points me to a skeleton over in the centre of the room, still adorned with ornate Fremennik garb, the sort of thing a chieftain’s daughter could wear! The skeleton is surprisingly intact, and I ask the false Kendal why that is. He tells me that she was too beautiful to eat, and, indeed, that he felt remorse for killing her, but by then it was too late. I demand that he give me the body, but he refuses, his demeanour immediately growing hostile, and attacks me, lunging with his Burthorpe-forged metal claws. I step aside, raise my staff, and run two rock-hard bolts of water through his chest, killing him instantly. Once he’s dead, I remove the headpiece of his bear suit from his head, to prove to the tribe the murderer’s identity, and take Asleif’s body out into the open at last.

With these things in tow, I visit the chieftain and tell him I encountered a strange bear-like creature in a cave. ‘Yes, the Kendal’, he says, telling me that it’s a god, and because it is unwise to live too close to gods, the tribe planted the brush that was obscuring the entrance. ‘Not so’, I tell him. ‘This Kendal is— was— just a man in a bear suit! And he killed your daughter! And why didn’t you tell me she went missing ten years ago?’

‘Fourteen years’, he replies, ‘And I never said otherwise, did I?’ A fair point. ‘But what evidence do you have for your serious accusations?,�� he asks. I show him the bear-head, and he is stunned to see that I am serious. He tells me impersonating a god is an extremely serious crime, and he never would have expected justice to be carried out by an outerlander, but that is the truth. The chief asks to see the body I found, and confirms right away that it’s that of Asleif, that she’s really been dead all these years. He tells me Asleif should be buried where her spirit is strongest, on the island at the centre of the pool, and that he would like me to perform the burial. But to bury her with full Fremennik rites, I will need to erect a cairn of rocks in the shape of a longboat, and bury her with one of her possessions. Unfortunately, he hasn’t got any that would serve the purpose, but perhaps her beloved Ragnar still has something.

I tell him it would be an honour to bury his daughter, and that I shall do so in the morning, when it is light again. Right now, it is too dark for much save for sleep. This time, the Chieftain makes sure I’m comfortable, bringing me goat’s meat stew and a pile of bear furs to sleep on in his tent. Well, I seem to have won the tribe’s trust, and tomorrow, I shall keep it.

#runescape #journal #roleplay #Fremennik #kendal

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