Disclaimer: If I owned Smash Bro. Melee there would most definitely have been a Tetris character. Why you ask, but more importantly, HOW?? Well, the why would be 'cause I enjoy a good challenge, and how? Well, like I said, I don't own Smash Bro. so I don't even have to try ^_^;;
Ok, I suck. I'm sorry for putting this sub standard chapter out, even though I haven't posted in months. Er, just read it and I promise a better chapter for the next one. Anyway, I'm really tired right now (a combination of three days with 6hrs of sleep across them, digging a hole, laying a gas pipe in it, chopping a pile of wood the size of a challenger mk2 tank, moving a concrete coal bunker and hiking ten friggin miles a day), so even though flames are usually appreciated, they may be met with the wrath of someone who finds it hard to see the letters on his keyboard. Fear my blind wrath!
Cookie goes to the guy who is most definitely not Dark Mangus, for making me smile.
Chapter 2: Is it just me? Or is something very wrong with this place...
The two rode into the castle grounds. There was no wall, just a pass between two hills. Before them stood a white stone castle with a selection of decorative stained glass windows. There was one large spire in the centre, with two wings of to each side. There was a moat, but it looked as though it had been drained dry of water. Off to the East there was an equally drained looking lake, with a few fish falloping around in the shallows. It takes quite a lot of effort to fallop, and a number of the fish were giving up, even as Link took his hookshot and grabbed a few for later.
This castle was not one for defence, it was where someone lived. Which would be all right in itself, but it was lacking a key feature of a monarchs home. Even when the sovereign was not around, there was a good deal of traffic, be it lesser royals, politicians, or just the servants who generally kept the place running. But this castle was dead quiet. Even the birds had left. There was no sound but the fall of water from a water fall to the West of the castle.
Link dismounted as he reached the small bridge that crossed the empty moat. Epona whinnied slightly. She was uneasy. Unlike the others in their party, she had a very practical mind when it came to scary situations. That was, let the idiot elf-boy go and get killed in some god-forsaken dungeon, whilst I munch on the grass. It had been a good plan, and had stood her in good stead throughout her 'adventures'. But she did not relish the prospect of waiting outside with the blue haired one's horse.
Marth's horse did not whinny. He barely made a sound. Experience had taught him that in places where there was not even the chirrup of a sparrow, it was not wise to make a sound. You never know what might hear you in the silence. Besides, he was confident in his ability to fight whatever came his way. After all he was a proud Altean war horse, a cut above the lesser breeds of horse.. He had been in a few battles in his day, and had even felt the bones of a few masters among men under his hooves. He was also supremely confident that he could out run whatever came out of the building.
Marth dismounted. His horse nudged him on the shoulder with his nose, cocking his head with a questioning look. Marth nodded, and the white charger snorted a command at Epona, and wandered a short way down the path. He might be needed later, but for now he was going to find a suitable hill to hide behind. His previous owner had been a petard, an idiot who takes barrels of gunpowder to castle walls. The prince didn't have any gun powder, but he had no doubt that if something angered him enough there would be fireworks. Ether way, he wanted several metres of rock between him and that castle. Flying flag stones was something you experienced once, and then you learnt about the cavalry core.
Marth scanned the castle grounds. Utter quiet. Eerie did not quite cut it. It as like the world had just stopped for a while. This probably meant that all the action was going on inside the castle. Marth hated fighting in a castle. For one thing, you could not ride a horse, and the extra height the horse could give you was often the difference between a fatal blow and a flesh wound. But despite everything, there were a few butterflies. This did not help Marth with the uneasiness in his gut. The butterflies just seemed creepy.
Link gestured for Marth to do something. Marth opened his eyes widely as if to say 'Why me?!' Link pointed to Marth's tiara, cocking his head to the side and grinning. Marth shot him a look, clearly indicating it was a circlet and NOT a tiara, and just because he happened to be royalty did NOT mean he led from the front. Which was technically a lie, he did lead from the front, but he shouldn't have too was his point.
Marth stepped up to the normal sized door. Which was odd. He expected a large door, one that would allow a large amount of traffic in and out. Even a set of double doors would be nice. Anything that would state clearly that this place was in fact normal would be nice. Christ, even a fire breathing two-hundred foot bunny with bat wings and a sign saying "THIS IS NORMAL" would be good.
He placed a hand on Falchion drawing it in one fluid motion, his gaze intent on the door. He placed a hand on the door handle. His blade began to glow faintly, as it reacted to the tension from his owner. Purple mist seemed to condense around the blade as it charged with magical energy.
A cough from Link made him turn around. Link was staring at him with a raised eyebrow, indicating the agitated sword. Marth followed his gaze to the drawn weapon. Ashamed he put it back in it's sheath. This was just odd. No need to get defensive, especially with drawn weapons. What kind of impression would that make on the inhabitants, 'Hello, I'm a sword wielding lunatic, are we in time for supper?' He gripped the door handle, and flung it open, feeling a guilty pleasure as the sprite following him got caught in the air current.
The inside of the castle was almost dead. Almost dead. It had the same quiet of the grave, the same cold chill you associate with death. But the walls were all spotless, not a cobweb in sight. The floor looked as though it had been carefully mopped and swept, so that the white marble gleamed. Marth stepped in, despite the ominous feelings, and his better instincts telling him to head for the hills. But there was good light, slanting in through the windows. Everywhere was bright, and sunny. It was like someone had just removed the people. And the huge paintings on the walls did not exactly fit into his opinion of fine art.
But in another way, it felt as though there was life around. Hidden away. Link followed in Marth's footsteps, hookshot held nonchalantly at his side. If questioned he would simply say he had it out when he was fishing, but the truth was, although he had thought it wrong when Marth had dawn his sword, he wanted a weapon at his side. He would be the first to admit he was not the brightest spark plug in the motor, but the unwary did not survive Ganon's dungeons.
The world felt as though it was simply paused. Link was starting to regret his decision to make Marth open the door. They should have just grabbed some fish and then made for the field again.
There was a picture of a bomb on the wall. Or what Link recognised as a bomb. But this one had little feet, and eyes. It was black and seemed to be on the march. But that was pretty much lost on the keen sighted Hylain. The picture was rippling. Like someone had dropped a stone in the centre of a lake, only this lake was made from canvas and oil paint. And was hanging on a wall.
Marth looked at Link when he heard the shouts that were coming from the painting. Link looked at him. Marth raised his eyebrow questioningly. Link nodded, and Marth drew Falchion, which glowed the second it was free from the scabbard. Link drew the Master Sword, his shield sliding out onto his other hand, held in a defensive posture. Both swordsman sidled to either side of the rippling picture.
There was screaming. Two voices. And they were closing rapidly. Marth nervously adjusted his grip on Falchion, the blade now dripping with a purple haze. The sprite which had been following him was flying around his head in wide elliptical patterns, nearly over dosing on the magical energy.
The screams got louder. The ripples grew more intense. There was a flash!
And two figures were spat out of the picture like a well chewed piece of bubblegum. Why bubblegum? Because they landed with a soft thud, and because they were so entangled they looked like a small green red and blue mound. A small cursing green red and blue mound. A small cursing green red and blue mound that was furiously kicking itself.
"You stupid idiot!" A thick Italian accent uttered from the mound. The green part of the mound was finally freed from the other part of itself, revealing two men. One short portly man, bushy moustache and red shirt, another lanky man, green shirt and an identical moustache.
"It's not my fault!" The green one protested.
"You let that small bomb thing sneak up on us!"
"It didn't sneak up on us, it flew through the damned air!"
"Oh and I guess it was shot out of a canon then?"
"How the bloody hell should I know?"
"Because you were supposed to be on watch while I dealt with the goombas!"
"Look it literally fell from the sky!"
"Argh! Allright, let's get back in there!"
"Fine by me!"
"Er... excuse me?"
"What!" both men shouted at the same time. They borth looked confused for a moment, and then finally noticed the two swordsmen.
"Well," continued Marth, "I would just like clarification on the fact that you two just happened to jump out of the picture."
"Yes," the small plump one replied, "Yes we did."
"And that this castle is deserted?"
The green one looked around, "Looks that way."
"One more question..."
"Go ahead."
"JUST WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
--------------------------------------
Author's notes: Ok, it's not great I know. Anyway, since you've kindly read my fic, do you think you fine people could go have a look at this shiny new site: www.fictionised.net
Pre-read by Monkey-san.
This weeks cookie will double chocolate, and will be given to best reviewer ^_^
Ok, I suck. I'm sorry for putting this sub standard chapter out, even though I haven't posted in months. Er, just read it and I promise a better chapter for the next one. Anyway, I'm really tired right now (a combination of three days with 6hrs of sleep across them, digging a hole, laying a gas pipe in it, chopping a pile of wood the size of a challenger mk2 tank, moving a concrete coal bunker and hiking ten friggin miles a day), so even though flames are usually appreciated, they may be met with the wrath of someone who finds it hard to see the letters on his keyboard. Fear my blind wrath!
Cookie goes to the guy who is most definitely not Dark Mangus, for making me smile.
Chapter 2: Is it just me? Or is something very wrong with this place...
The two rode into the castle grounds. There was no wall, just a pass between two hills. Before them stood a white stone castle with a selection of decorative stained glass windows. There was one large spire in the centre, with two wings of to each side. There was a moat, but it looked as though it had been drained dry of water. Off to the East there was an equally drained looking lake, with a few fish falloping around in the shallows. It takes quite a lot of effort to fallop, and a number of the fish were giving up, even as Link took his hookshot and grabbed a few for later.
This castle was not one for defence, it was where someone lived. Which would be all right in itself, but it was lacking a key feature of a monarchs home. Even when the sovereign was not around, there was a good deal of traffic, be it lesser royals, politicians, or just the servants who generally kept the place running. But this castle was dead quiet. Even the birds had left. There was no sound but the fall of water from a water fall to the West of the castle.
Link dismounted as he reached the small bridge that crossed the empty moat. Epona whinnied slightly. She was uneasy. Unlike the others in their party, she had a very practical mind when it came to scary situations. That was, let the idiot elf-boy go and get killed in some god-forsaken dungeon, whilst I munch on the grass. It had been a good plan, and had stood her in good stead throughout her 'adventures'. But she did not relish the prospect of waiting outside with the blue haired one's horse.
Marth's horse did not whinny. He barely made a sound. Experience had taught him that in places where there was not even the chirrup of a sparrow, it was not wise to make a sound. You never know what might hear you in the silence. Besides, he was confident in his ability to fight whatever came his way. After all he was a proud Altean war horse, a cut above the lesser breeds of horse.. He had been in a few battles in his day, and had even felt the bones of a few masters among men under his hooves. He was also supremely confident that he could out run whatever came out of the building.
Marth dismounted. His horse nudged him on the shoulder with his nose, cocking his head with a questioning look. Marth nodded, and the white charger snorted a command at Epona, and wandered a short way down the path. He might be needed later, but for now he was going to find a suitable hill to hide behind. His previous owner had been a petard, an idiot who takes barrels of gunpowder to castle walls. The prince didn't have any gun powder, but he had no doubt that if something angered him enough there would be fireworks. Ether way, he wanted several metres of rock between him and that castle. Flying flag stones was something you experienced once, and then you learnt about the cavalry core.
Marth scanned the castle grounds. Utter quiet. Eerie did not quite cut it. It as like the world had just stopped for a while. This probably meant that all the action was going on inside the castle. Marth hated fighting in a castle. For one thing, you could not ride a horse, and the extra height the horse could give you was often the difference between a fatal blow and a flesh wound. But despite everything, there were a few butterflies. This did not help Marth with the uneasiness in his gut. The butterflies just seemed creepy.
Link gestured for Marth to do something. Marth opened his eyes widely as if to say 'Why me?!' Link pointed to Marth's tiara, cocking his head to the side and grinning. Marth shot him a look, clearly indicating it was a circlet and NOT a tiara, and just because he happened to be royalty did NOT mean he led from the front. Which was technically a lie, he did lead from the front, but he shouldn't have too was his point.
Marth stepped up to the normal sized door. Which was odd. He expected a large door, one that would allow a large amount of traffic in and out. Even a set of double doors would be nice. Anything that would state clearly that this place was in fact normal would be nice. Christ, even a fire breathing two-hundred foot bunny with bat wings and a sign saying "THIS IS NORMAL" would be good.
He placed a hand on Falchion drawing it in one fluid motion, his gaze intent on the door. He placed a hand on the door handle. His blade began to glow faintly, as it reacted to the tension from his owner. Purple mist seemed to condense around the blade as it charged with magical energy.
A cough from Link made him turn around. Link was staring at him with a raised eyebrow, indicating the agitated sword. Marth followed his gaze to the drawn weapon. Ashamed he put it back in it's sheath. This was just odd. No need to get defensive, especially with drawn weapons. What kind of impression would that make on the inhabitants, 'Hello, I'm a sword wielding lunatic, are we in time for supper?' He gripped the door handle, and flung it open, feeling a guilty pleasure as the sprite following him got caught in the air current.
The inside of the castle was almost dead. Almost dead. It had the same quiet of the grave, the same cold chill you associate with death. But the walls were all spotless, not a cobweb in sight. The floor looked as though it had been carefully mopped and swept, so that the white marble gleamed. Marth stepped in, despite the ominous feelings, and his better instincts telling him to head for the hills. But there was good light, slanting in through the windows. Everywhere was bright, and sunny. It was like someone had just removed the people. And the huge paintings on the walls did not exactly fit into his opinion of fine art.
But in another way, it felt as though there was life around. Hidden away. Link followed in Marth's footsteps, hookshot held nonchalantly at his side. If questioned he would simply say he had it out when he was fishing, but the truth was, although he had thought it wrong when Marth had dawn his sword, he wanted a weapon at his side. He would be the first to admit he was not the brightest spark plug in the motor, but the unwary did not survive Ganon's dungeons.
The world felt as though it was simply paused. Link was starting to regret his decision to make Marth open the door. They should have just grabbed some fish and then made for the field again.
There was a picture of a bomb on the wall. Or what Link recognised as a bomb. But this one had little feet, and eyes. It was black and seemed to be on the march. But that was pretty much lost on the keen sighted Hylain. The picture was rippling. Like someone had dropped a stone in the centre of a lake, only this lake was made from canvas and oil paint. And was hanging on a wall.
Marth looked at Link when he heard the shouts that were coming from the painting. Link looked at him. Marth raised his eyebrow questioningly. Link nodded, and Marth drew Falchion, which glowed the second it was free from the scabbard. Link drew the Master Sword, his shield sliding out onto his other hand, held in a defensive posture. Both swordsman sidled to either side of the rippling picture.
There was screaming. Two voices. And they were closing rapidly. Marth nervously adjusted his grip on Falchion, the blade now dripping with a purple haze. The sprite which had been following him was flying around his head in wide elliptical patterns, nearly over dosing on the magical energy.
The screams got louder. The ripples grew more intense. There was a flash!
And two figures were spat out of the picture like a well chewed piece of bubblegum. Why bubblegum? Because they landed with a soft thud, and because they were so entangled they looked like a small green red and blue mound. A small cursing green red and blue mound. A small cursing green red and blue mound that was furiously kicking itself.
"You stupid idiot!" A thick Italian accent uttered from the mound. The green part of the mound was finally freed from the other part of itself, revealing two men. One short portly man, bushy moustache and red shirt, another lanky man, green shirt and an identical moustache.
"It's not my fault!" The green one protested.
"You let that small bomb thing sneak up on us!"
"It didn't sneak up on us, it flew through the damned air!"
"Oh and I guess it was shot out of a canon then?"
"How the bloody hell should I know?"
"Because you were supposed to be on watch while I dealt with the goombas!"
"Look it literally fell from the sky!"
"Argh! Allright, let's get back in there!"
"Fine by me!"
"Er... excuse me?"
"What!" both men shouted at the same time. They borth looked confused for a moment, and then finally noticed the two swordsmen.
"Well," continued Marth, "I would just like clarification on the fact that you two just happened to jump out of the picture."
"Yes," the small plump one replied, "Yes we did."
"And that this castle is deserted?"
The green one looked around, "Looks that way."
"One more question..."
"Go ahead."
"JUST WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
--------------------------------------
Author's notes: Ok, it's not great I know. Anyway, since you've kindly read my fic, do you think you fine people could go have a look at this shiny new site: www.fictionised.net
Pre-read by Monkey-san.
This weeks cookie will double chocolate, and will be given to best reviewer ^_^