((OOC: check out the
Joined Destiny OOC before posting.))
IC: All things have their end, even cycles guided by fate.
Hyrule is gone, but so are the waters that covered the blessed land. New Hyrule has risen to replace the old and its people returned. We are a blessed people. But something is still wrong. In the far reaches of New Hyrule old evils are beginning to stir again. The Triforce is safe, but the taint of evil remains.
I see or past and our present, but the future is obscured from me. What is the cause of these things I have felt and these images I have seen? Something lurks just out of my sight; something that I can only see if I could look behind my own eyes. This darkness is not of my world, but it is of my world at the same time. I fear for the future and for you. A terrible tragedy is looming and this time I fear we will fail to circumvent it.
- Maldron, Sage of Truth to the King of New Hyrule
It was morning in the Lost Woods and for the moblins of Kerosh tribe there was plenty of reason to celebrate. Their snorts and howls of laughter reverberated all through the woods and back to their lair. The reason for their celebration trailed behind them in a long procession. This line consisted of over twenty bulbo that they’d ‘liberated’ from a nearby bulblin tribe. The boar-like creatures would make for fine eating until they decided to sack some of Nakaya’s homesteads again. Three dead ones were already tied to spits for roasting.
Far behind the trail of moblins and bulbo, a lone dragon trudged along. His thick hide and scales were covered with nicks and cuts. Along his side a few arrows protruded from the spots where their dead archers had found weak points. As the dragon walked it dragged several weights that were chained to its midsection, neck, hind legs, and tail. Directly to the rear of the dragon, or Rasterok to those that cared enough to call him by his name, a few bokoblin servants to the tribe’s chief whipped at his fresh cuts to spurn him forward.
Back at the front of the line the tribe’s leader, Morpen exalted in the praise of his followers. Morpen was big, even by moblin standards, and looked every bit the cruel, if not cunning leader. He stood a full foot over the rest of the tribe and his blue skin was thick with muscle underneath. His spear carried a slightly green glow to it and hovered alongside it’s master obediently. Perhaps Morpen’s most unusual feature was the wooden mask that laid flat against the top of his head like a hat. Only close inspection could reveal that the mask bore the face of a hylian.
The procession stopped as they reached a nondescript cave near the outskirts of the woods. From inside came a few squeals and laughter in response, signaling that all was well. Satisfied, Morpen stood before his people and addressed them.
“We gotta good haul this time. Soon it’ll be even better. Our next stop is Nakaya and nothin’ can stand in our way. The world wants ta forget about us, but we won’t let ‘em! We’re gonna take ‘em for all their worth. Soon this land will be callin’ me King Morpen!”
At the back of the line Rasterok took one look at the entrance to his defiled lair and saw red. As he tried to bark out the curses in his head, the magic muzzle clamped down tighter on his jaws. He knew it was futile to try, but he still yearned for the day when he could rip Morpen apart. If he could just hold out long enough, Rasterok knew he’d get the chance to even the score.