I have sailed the great ocean and reached its distant shore.
The Pirate Gaile
The depths within the tree were uncanny indeed. Two torches burned in brackets on either side of a doorway, by which light he could see that he had landed on a strange flower growing at the edge of a small pool of water. The man's disorientation was only beginning, however, for had done nothing more than regain his footing when he heard a disembodied voice reverberate through the room. The voice was a voice of challenge: Do you think you are strong? As you are now? There was no time at all for the man to get his bearings, because as soon as the voice withdrew, the room was choking with powerful magic the like of which the man had never observed.
The torchlight was gone. Suddenly, he was beset by a group of bizarre creatures. They were the height of a small child, with hair like leaves, ridged brown skin a few shades darker than his own, and an odd snout. They might have been cute, were it not for their glowing orange eyes. The group crowded around him in a way that he had never seen in animals. In fact, they seemed to be dancing. The man pushed his way past this assembly, thinking to make a dash for the door. He did not notice that his course ran straight over the pool, because the small group of small creatures had somehow transformed into a single giant of the same appearance, stalking him from behind. The glowing eyes loomed with greatly increased threat. Then, just as suddenly, the light returned. He had not moved a single step.
The room filled again with a distant voice's laughter. It echoed and faded, taking with it the foreign magic that had so thickened the air. Without thinking, the man glanced down at the pool in front of him. Instead of his own familiar appearance, he found himself looking at another of the glowing-eyed creatures, and then it struck him that he had become such a creature. When he brought his hands to his face in a scream, the creature in the reflection of the water did the same.
There was nothing to do but move forward through the doorway. He did so, and found himself in another room with another door built into the far wall. The exit, like the entrance through which he had just come, was on a high stone platform. There was another of those strange flowers at the edge of this platform. The man felt the presence of new instinct. The flower was important. The flower would aid him. He shrugged internally. He really had no other idea of how to progress in this nightmare world—as far as he could tell, this new cursed form had sealed his own magic entirely. Giving in to the flower's inexplicable draw, he stood at its center, was sucked underground, and then launched into the air. Two flowers appeared in his hands by magic, and their spinning petals kept him aloft as he made his way across the gap to the far platform. He passed the door to find more platforms and more flowers, made his way from one to the other, and crossed yet another threshold. This last tunnel opened onto a beaten dirt track that was somehow twisted in on itself, and somehow as he walked he twisted right along with it. He crossed the threshold of another door, which closed behind him.
The man's perspective was restored to normal here. He could see a stream of water turning a wheel. He crossed a bridge that lead him upward, moved to open another door. Before he could close his fist over the knob, however, a voice called out from behind him. It was strange, for he had not noticed any presence before; it was overwhelming, for he had never in his life been addressed by anyone besides his mother. The voice belonged to a tall red haired Hylian, who was stooped under the weight of a massive pack, and held his hands clasped in an attitude of ironic supplication. The Hylian told the man that he was able to help with the problem of his transformation. There was one condition, he said, namely that he would need to assist him with an errand of his business. The errand was simple, requiring only that the man deliver something to the one who had need of it. With nary a flourish, the deliverable item appeared from nothing in the Hylian's unclasped hand. It was a mask decorated in the form of a cow. One of such tremendous power should perhaps not find it difficult. The Hylian had an an air of eerie menace. Casual teleportation made the gestures of his body discontinuous. The level of his skill was such that this was thoughtless idle play and his control such that his magic was silent in every respect. The man had never been so impressed, or so intimidated.
Sensing his dismissal, the man skittered in his new form out of this final door, and found himself under a bright sun in a town's square. It was an overwhelming amount of new sensation. He had never been in a town. He had spoken with two people in his life. The man had, of course, read a great deal and the stories of the Gerudo are equally stories of battle and society. Conversation is paramount in the art of both genres. There was also the indelible memory of his visions of the two blonde Hylians. He was, to be sure, not prepared for the public—but he would learn, and at least he would get to make his first failures while wearing a different face.
The town bustled. The man had never truly understood the word until that moment. Even his visions of greater Hyrule had tended to showcase events in relatively private settings. He was glad to have an assignment that he could let direct him, rather than having to figure out some independent objective from the dizzying array of options. Another of those strange flowers from beneath the tree was growing in the plaza and caught his attention. Considering the instinctive draw those flowers held for him in this guise, he figured it would be suitable for his first approach. The man supposed it was the same source of instinct that prevented him from being surprised when he discovered that the flower was not empty, as the earlier ones had been. There was, instead, another creature akin to him apparently living inside it. Although this creature was somewhat larger, it had the same dark creased skin and snout, and similar leaf-like hair. It introduced itself as a business scrub. The man had surely never heard of such a thing, but figured it was good to learn more about what he (probably) was, and also that a creature with such a name ought to be a promising contender for the one who had asked for the mask's delivery. He pulled the mask out of his pack and held it up for the business scrub to inspect. The business scrub shook his head and transitioned easily into tales of his previous home, which had been in the swamp.
The man solicited the attention of other townsfolk. There were carpenters engaged in building a new stall for the town bank, which would be placed behind the clocktower (whence he had emerged into the town). A postman refused to speak with him. There was a pair of jugglers who told him they expressly did not want the mask, as it would deprive them of an excuse for staying away from their boss. In the southwest of town, he found a small pool, and under a nearby tree, a frog. He offered the frog the mask and received no response. (After seeing such a creature in person, the man better understood his memory of the soldier's sputtering refusal of the woman's aggressive offer. He had been surprised the soldier was not won over by her adorable enthusiasm.) A small child in the north of town accepted the mask, only to admit that he was playing around, could never have afforded such a thing, and would not have had any use for it besides. For all his concern about the niceties of conversation and social cues, the man was finding things surprisingly easy. It helped that, for whatever reason, the people of this town appeared so content to let him listen to their speeches in silence. They really had a lot on their minds, it seemed, and were looking less for conversation per se as for a willing ear.
His next offer was addressed to a Hylian that made for an incredible sight. He was, for some reason, floating from a balloon. He was wearing a skintight green outfit that came to strange point over his head (as if covering a hat), which was complemented by a pair of vibrant red cutoffs that served more for fashion than for function or modesty. When the flying Hylian saw the man's signal, we let out his balloon and descended back to the earth. Up close, the man was able to get a better look at this strange person's appearance. He wore a watch around his neck, held a sketchpad in his left hand and a rather grandiose pen in his right. He had pronounced cheekbones, a huge red nose (perhaps from sunburn?), a full mouth, and a noticeable potbelly. His short legs were, by contrast, thickly muscled and obviously powerful. The odd Hylian took one look at the cow mask, and then, with a cry of something in an unknown language, threw confetti in the man's face.