Note: The following events happened quite long before the raid, and would be nulled if Aoife killed Myst before. They do not necessarily happen in one continuous order.
For a re-dead, the task of standing guard is one of the most natural thing to do.
After all, what is the ordeal of standing still for a few hours compared to what they have endured for many years? They have spent a long time, some even ages, waiting in complete stillness before their rotten bodies can move again. A few hours more waiting would mean only a little.
But waiting may not be the best word to describe what they did. Waiting implies hope and expectation. But when they were dead, none of them dreamed that they would once again walk among the livings.
And certainly they did not entertain the idea to be a standing guard either.
The feeling is evident as one of the Stalfos guards yawns. Of course being dead It does not need yawning anymore, but even so the feeling of boredom is overwhelming and its body reacted out of habit. It is currently standing guard outside in front of a simple metal door leading to what used to be a soldier’s barrack. The door is plain and barren, but even with the minimal lighting of this moonlit sky one can see that the door is very strong and sturdy, even compared to thick granite walls where it is put on.
A rustling sound is heard to its right and it turns its ugly head around. A cold wind blows a pile of dead leaves there, spreading them in soft whispers.
And a shadow appears in front of the Stalfos.
It jumps a little and is ready to swing his greatsword, when suddenly it recognizes the owner of the silvery hair standing there.
The red dots that serve as its eyes seem to be widened.
“Swift...what...do....here...?”
The warrior whom the Stalfos called Swift bows his head a little. Compared to the undead gate guardian the warrior is diminutive in stature, with lithe limbs and long gleaming silver hair. He wears a set of black armor that is completely obscured by the night, and atop his head a black helmet sits like a crown.
“Commander sent for me”
The guard lowers its sword and beckons the warrior to enter the barrack, glancing at his fingers as he passes through and opens the metal door.
It is confirmed. On the warrior’s third finger is also the same ring like the guard wears: a small ruby ring emblazoned with a red lily.
The Commander in charge is one of the most sophisticated of Stalfos.
He has been dead for quite some time, having lived when the Hyrule was in one of its most tumultuous and brutal history. In life The Commander the most feared noble in and out of the court, possessing shrewd merciless diplomatic skills and outstanding military might. He lived in intrigues and deceit, and during its reign held a great influence to the royal family. It is said that he rose up quickly through the ranks by spilling much blood, and held to its station by spilling more. Friends and foes were readily sacrificed should they impede The Commander’s ambitions. Even reduced in this re-dead state, his ghastly skeleton still possesses considerable intelligence and chilling tone, which intimidates even the bravest of men.
He did not waste any time in using it.
“What was it...happened in Town this morning?...Speak quickly...Swift...” “A woman riding a Loftwing landed in the market square this morning, Commander” come the flat answer. “To their naive intentions they landed right in the centre of our ranks”
The Commander watches as the warrior called Swift answered its question without being intimidated even slightly. He possesses the delicate form of a child, with a fair countenance and unreadable expression. His facial features are beautiful, yet grave and handsome. They are like half-done, the creator could not decide whether he wanted a boy or a girl. The only thing done right was the eyes: they sparkle and lit but cannot shine. Like a bright blue fire trapped deep under a thick ice, burning itself without ever giving light.
If not for the warrior’s own statement, it would be hard even for The Commander to decide how it should refer him.
“And it is good news you have to deliver me...correct?”
The eyes do not shift, even for a moment. They look straight to The Commander’s own.
“The Loftwing managed to escape. But the woman has been taken care of and will trouble us no longer. We found this on her”
He reaches for something on his side and presents a dagger to The Commander. Its icy blue shaft sparkles under the dim light of the barrack’s hall.
The Commander reaches out and examines the dagger, but is surprised when he touches the shaft. The dagger almost fell.
“This is...”
For the first time, the warrior’s eyes shifted for a while to the dagger before returning to The Commander. An inexplicable feeling was displayed there.
He whispers softly, inaudible by anyone. “The blade of Sleetshade. Chilling and cold, mixed and bold”
“Take this...to the treasury” the Commander reaches to one of many Stalfos walking here and there around them. “It stays...there...” The Commander then turns again to the warrior. He is watching the lowly Stalfos left.
“You are...dismissed”
The warrior stays, “Requesting permission to leave the Town Garrison, Commander”, and he hands out a tattered flier to The Commander.
The Commander’s red eyes tighten in disgust.
“I was informed that...you are the only one suitable for this task.”
Its voice rises to a threatening tone.
“But remember...never forget...where your loyalty lies...Her Majesty...always knows...and I will personally make you suffer...should you forget”
The warrior bows, as steadfast as the first time he came.
“I have not the slightest thought of betraying Her Majesty...”
The Commander turns around.
“Good...good...Swift....We will be watching...and waiting....”
It walks and disappears inside the inner barracks, leaving the warrior still bowing. The warrior raises his head and turns to where he came from. “...as long as her intentions fit mine.”
He opens the barrack's door and walks outside. Soon the moonlit night hides his figure from sight.
The fire of the smithy never stop burning, its flame blanketed the coals as if spreading bright red mosses. Outside the fire of the sun has died out and the freeze of night reigns, but here inside this spacious stone-walled room the heat of the day lives on, tainting the various objects within with an orange-red glow.
A figure is standing near an iron table, his face to the burning fire. In this angle of light his face is lit with a strange ethereal quality, as if it the smooth features there are swimming behind a veil of light. A bead of sweat is trickling down his chin but he heeds them not, his bright blue eyes focus only to the task he is toiling right now. On his hands he is meticulously holding a small bronze ring with a sparkling ruby on top. Apparently he is focused in trying to do some subtle work on it.
Totally absorbed he is on his work that not even a strand of his silver hair moves when another steps enter the room. Two red eyes the same color of the fire appears at a door far behind the working smith.
“Two tables to your left”, says the small smith in front of the fire, not bothering to look behind.
The two red eyes bring the skeletal head they are in to the direction said by the smith. There upon a table lies a heap of ruby rings, all almost identical in style. A growl of satisfaction can be heard, along with an echoing sound saying some incomprehensible things.
The smith is still working, undisturbed, occasionally holding the ring up his face and reheating things in the fire.
“This one...is carved...?”
The skeletal figure has already stood beside the smith, making a long shadow over the room. It is at least twice the height of the smith and thrice larger, but anyone can easily tell whom between the two that regards the others as more superior.
The smith holds the ring close to his eyes, and put it down again, satisfied.
“Yes, this one is special” He says flatly, continuing his work on the ring.
“I want...my ring...carved too....”
The skeletal figure uses brings his right fingers to his left and slips out another bronze ring from the middle finger. This ring is also decorated with a ruby and an emblazoned red lily, in the exact same style as the ring that the smith is currently working on.
Apparently the smith also wears the exact same kind of ring. It is glinting now on his finger, reflecting the fire of the furnace.
“Sure, but later,” he says, inspecting the ring again, “this one is to be finished before he wakes up”.
And so, the toiling sound continues throughout the night, and goes on and on until the fire of the sun again beats the worldly heat of the furnace.
Woodfall Rises is an au legend of Zelda RP
the current skin was made by Rozie. with the exception of the miniprofile which was
created by RITZ! Codes seen and used were taken from resource sites such as slightly insane, ProBoards
support, and Socal. all images are either from Zerochan or made by original owners.
