Majora felt something. A small light that cut past even the wards around him.
It was weakening the magical defenses. It just might be his ticket to revenge, if he focused right.
Gathering the last of his waning strength, Majora sent a feeling of desire out to the unwary passer-by. The intent was to draw the host like a bee to honey. Majora had no idea that the host already knew exactly where he was going.
******************************************************************
Suka was an unknown. He was abandoned at the age of 7 and had to grow up alone, on the cruel streets of Arpotia. He had always had a gift for absorbing information, and never forgot a passage of what he read. Lately, he had been feeling a strange tug.
He knew exactly what that tug was. He'd read about it in the castle library when he had scammed the Arpotian king out of 725,000 rupees.
It was the pull of a relic. Records all agreed on the point that a magical devise or artifact could exert a pull, whether intentionally or not, that certain gifted individuals could feel. Suka, having a healthy ego was certain of his inclusion in this endowed group.
And he was always rewarded for being right.
A man came into sight over a ridge. He carried the object of Suka's desire. Suddenly the intensity of the mask's calling increased and Suka could tell exactly where the call was coming from.
On the pack on the man's back hung some twenty masks, and it was only logical to assume that more lay within. That was where the summons was leading Suka.
Lightning quick, he reached down to the ground and picked up a small, sharp rock. With only a second's work of aiming, he laid the unusual man out flat with a well-placed stone throw to the head. Whether he was dead or unconscious was no mind to the thief as he ran to the man's prone body and opened the large sack. After rummaging through the masks inside for a few seconds, Suka found it.
It was a beautiful work. It's component materials consisted of wood, animal bone, paint, and pure magic. Suka had never possessed anything as malignantly wonderful.
It had never possessed someone so exceedingly useful.
******************************************************************
If there was one thing princess Zelda could do, it was being a gracious host, in any situation. She was capable of toleration. She could put up with anything. But this was trying her patience.
Gorons ate loud, and messily. It's hard to imagine rocks having crumbs, but gorons found a way to get excess chips of rock all over the table. And the crunching! Zelda felt as though she would go deaf if she heard any more. Excusing herself, Zelda sought the solitude of her courtyard.
Her courtyard. It was a place of memories for her. It was where she first glimpsed Ganondorf. And it was the first place she had seen Link. Well, she had seen him previously, but that was just in a prophecy she had dreamed. It didn't count.
She remembered that day. Even the mischief Link caused when he shot that vase with a slingshot. Boy did he run from that bomb. Zelda thought she would never hear the end of it from her father.
Her father. Zelda hadn't thought of her parents since the evacuation. They were killed by Ganondorf in his attack. Her father died bravely as he bought enough time for Zelda and Impa to escape.
Zelda felt no sorrow for her mother. She never met the woman who bore her. Her mother had run from the castle in the middle of the Goron/Zora War. And she took away Zelda's only sibling.
Her brother. Zelda knew nothing of the boy. He was her twin and she had never set eyes on him. He was stolen away one night and taken southward, or so her father had said.
The only people she had left she could really relate to were Link and Impa. A soft padding behind her made Zelda turn. Behind her stood Nabooru. She had changed her wardrobe during the Gorons' unsettlingly satisfying meal. She now wore the rarely-donned garb that Gerudo only used for very special occasions. It was sleeveless, very practical for the heat of the Gerudo lands. It was a brownish-red color, much like the desert sands in the Colossus.
"How does it look?" asked Nabooru, "I am going to be wearing it for your coronation tomorrow."
"You might want to reconsider that," laughed the princess, "Impa would kill you for having a dress that short at the leg." Both women laughed at the motherly Sheikah.
"I doubt she would mind," said the Gerudo, still chuckling lightly, "She would be too afraid of my reaction." Nabooru was famous for her quick temper when she was asked to change anything by a non-Gerudo.
"If you ladies are quite done, the final guests from the river and the forest have arrived. The Competition will begin soon." came Impa's voice from down the hall.
"Well, I'd better change. I'm representing my people in the arena." With that, Nabooru left toward the room that had been cleared for her.
******************************************************************
It was a glorious spectacle. Link would have been proud to have seen the friends he had loved showing their battle prowess. Such a competition had never been held since the rule of the Zelda of the Demonic Brother, the first of the Zelda line.
The first challenge was target practice. The combatants each had their projectile of choice and were ready to throw at the wooden targets that had been set up in front of the castle courtyard.
"The contestants will each attempt to hit the bull's-eye. You will be given 3 tries. The most accurate of these three throws will be marked. The marks will be compared after all contestants have attempted to score," boomed the voice of Impa. "Up first is Nabooru, caliph of the gerudo." You may begin.
The gerudo stood before the fence which marked the closest she could stand to the targets. She held in her hand a small bow, the weapon of choice for a riding gerudo. She stood back and placed her hand on her brow.
With what seemed like no effort, the sand woman pulled back the fine horsehair bowstring and let fly. The quarrel hit the target, just above the center. Without stopping to think, she slightly lowered the angle and shot again. This arrow landed dead center.
The gerudo in the stands let out an uproarious cheer. Their leader walked back to the tent that was set up for her.
"Very well done. Now, Link of the gorons!" Impa bellowed.
The young goron walked to where Nabooru had stood to shoot her bow. He held at his side three rocks. They were about a food long, 4 inches wide at their maximum girth, and their tips were sharpened to a razor sharpness, the products of a master goron smith.
The goron took a few steps back. Sizing up for the throw, Link ran forward and threw the first heavy projectile. It struck the target with a resounding boom. It was to the left of the center. He once again sized up the target and threw up another shaped rock. It struck dead center, right where Nabooru's shot hit. The gorons in the stands went insane, applauding their champion. The prince returned to his rock slab.
"Wonderful throw! Next up is Tajo, the Zora." Impa announced.
The young fish woman took out her boomerang and prepared to throw it for the target.
She suddenly stopped as a loud crash was heard. An audible gasp then erupted from the crowd as not only the party, but the castle wall was crashed by a strange sight.
A living tree walked toward the castle on roots that had been pressed into service as legs.
It was weakening the magical defenses. It just might be his ticket to revenge, if he focused right.
Gathering the last of his waning strength, Majora sent a feeling of desire out to the unwary passer-by. The intent was to draw the host like a bee to honey. Majora had no idea that the host already knew exactly where he was going.
******************************************************************
Suka was an unknown. He was abandoned at the age of 7 and had to grow up alone, on the cruel streets of Arpotia. He had always had a gift for absorbing information, and never forgot a passage of what he read. Lately, he had been feeling a strange tug.
He knew exactly what that tug was. He'd read about it in the castle library when he had scammed the Arpotian king out of 725,000 rupees.
It was the pull of a relic. Records all agreed on the point that a magical devise or artifact could exert a pull, whether intentionally or not, that certain gifted individuals could feel. Suka, having a healthy ego was certain of his inclusion in this endowed group.
And he was always rewarded for being right.
A man came into sight over a ridge. He carried the object of Suka's desire. Suddenly the intensity of the mask's calling increased and Suka could tell exactly where the call was coming from.
On the pack on the man's back hung some twenty masks, and it was only logical to assume that more lay within. That was where the summons was leading Suka.
Lightning quick, he reached down to the ground and picked up a small, sharp rock. With only a second's work of aiming, he laid the unusual man out flat with a well-placed stone throw to the head. Whether he was dead or unconscious was no mind to the thief as he ran to the man's prone body and opened the large sack. After rummaging through the masks inside for a few seconds, Suka found it.
It was a beautiful work. It's component materials consisted of wood, animal bone, paint, and pure magic. Suka had never possessed anything as malignantly wonderful.
It had never possessed someone so exceedingly useful.
******************************************************************
If there was one thing princess Zelda could do, it was being a gracious host, in any situation. She was capable of toleration. She could put up with anything. But this was trying her patience.
Gorons ate loud, and messily. It's hard to imagine rocks having crumbs, but gorons found a way to get excess chips of rock all over the table. And the crunching! Zelda felt as though she would go deaf if she heard any more. Excusing herself, Zelda sought the solitude of her courtyard.
Her courtyard. It was a place of memories for her. It was where she first glimpsed Ganondorf. And it was the first place she had seen Link. Well, she had seen him previously, but that was just in a prophecy she had dreamed. It didn't count.
She remembered that day. Even the mischief Link caused when he shot that vase with a slingshot. Boy did he run from that bomb. Zelda thought she would never hear the end of it from her father.
Her father. Zelda hadn't thought of her parents since the evacuation. They were killed by Ganondorf in his attack. Her father died bravely as he bought enough time for Zelda and Impa to escape.
Zelda felt no sorrow for her mother. She never met the woman who bore her. Her mother had run from the castle in the middle of the Goron/Zora War. And she took away Zelda's only sibling.
Her brother. Zelda knew nothing of the boy. He was her twin and she had never set eyes on him. He was stolen away one night and taken southward, or so her father had said.
The only people she had left she could really relate to were Link and Impa. A soft padding behind her made Zelda turn. Behind her stood Nabooru. She had changed her wardrobe during the Gorons' unsettlingly satisfying meal. She now wore the rarely-donned garb that Gerudo only used for very special occasions. It was sleeveless, very practical for the heat of the Gerudo lands. It was a brownish-red color, much like the desert sands in the Colossus.
"How does it look?" asked Nabooru, "I am going to be wearing it for your coronation tomorrow."
"You might want to reconsider that," laughed the princess, "Impa would kill you for having a dress that short at the leg." Both women laughed at the motherly Sheikah.
"I doubt she would mind," said the Gerudo, still chuckling lightly, "She would be too afraid of my reaction." Nabooru was famous for her quick temper when she was asked to change anything by a non-Gerudo.
"If you ladies are quite done, the final guests from the river and the forest have arrived. The Competition will begin soon." came Impa's voice from down the hall.
"Well, I'd better change. I'm representing my people in the arena." With that, Nabooru left toward the room that had been cleared for her.
******************************************************************
It was a glorious spectacle. Link would have been proud to have seen the friends he had loved showing their battle prowess. Such a competition had never been held since the rule of the Zelda of the Demonic Brother, the first of the Zelda line.
The first challenge was target practice. The combatants each had their projectile of choice and were ready to throw at the wooden targets that had been set up in front of the castle courtyard.
"The contestants will each attempt to hit the bull's-eye. You will be given 3 tries. The most accurate of these three throws will be marked. The marks will be compared after all contestants have attempted to score," boomed the voice of Impa. "Up first is Nabooru, caliph of the gerudo." You may begin.
The gerudo stood before the fence which marked the closest she could stand to the targets. She held in her hand a small bow, the weapon of choice for a riding gerudo. She stood back and placed her hand on her brow.
With what seemed like no effort, the sand woman pulled back the fine horsehair bowstring and let fly. The quarrel hit the target, just above the center. Without stopping to think, she slightly lowered the angle and shot again. This arrow landed dead center.
The gerudo in the stands let out an uproarious cheer. Their leader walked back to the tent that was set up for her.
"Very well done. Now, Link of the gorons!" Impa bellowed.
The young goron walked to where Nabooru had stood to shoot her bow. He held at his side three rocks. They were about a food long, 4 inches wide at their maximum girth, and their tips were sharpened to a razor sharpness, the products of a master goron smith.
The goron took a few steps back. Sizing up for the throw, Link ran forward and threw the first heavy projectile. It struck the target with a resounding boom. It was to the left of the center. He once again sized up the target and threw up another shaped rock. It struck dead center, right where Nabooru's shot hit. The gorons in the stands went insane, applauding their champion. The prince returned to his rock slab.
"Wonderful throw! Next up is Tajo, the Zora." Impa announced.
The young fish woman took out her boomerang and prepared to throw it for the target.
She suddenly stopped as a loud crash was heard. An audible gasp then erupted from the crowd as not only the party, but the castle wall was crashed by a strange sight.
A living tree walked toward the castle on roots that had been pressed into service as legs.