Veitaru seemed like she was about to attend to Frore when...

"HAHAHAAHHHAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAA!" Veitaru suddenly burst into outright laughter, quickly clutching her side with one hand while the other tried to clamp itself over her mouth very unsuccessfully, she was soon crying from laughter.

"Heeeheeee *GASP heeeeee..." She fell to her knees, barely able to breath from the ordeal she was going through.

"Oooh wow.... Heee" She tried to wipe some of the tears from her eyes. "A Sheikah.... asking his opponent to reveal themselves... Heeeheeehahahaaahaaa!" she quickly broke down into outright laughter once again.

"Heee... You nailed this one.. Fairy.. I forget your name... Foolish one with an injured arm and being a terrible sheikah. Heee.." She now was attempting to wipe both her eyes with her hands.

Now, rather than a ghostly whisper, Cain spoke loudly and clearly. Though his accent was clearly foreign and the reverberations of his words alien, it was obvious they belonged to no spirit when belted out at this volume. “You'll get no fair fight from me,” he intoned as Veitaru erupted into a helpless fit of laughter. Ignoring her, he quickly continued before Izzaz could interject. “But you need not be so hasty. Fate has, after all, brought us together as allies, not enemies.” The shadow of Izzaz darkened somewhat and began to move of its own accord, morphing into that of Cain's. Immediately afterward, he rushed across the ground like a dark tide and rose up into half-bodied form among the others.

Before he continued, he spared a moment to regard another new arrival to the group. As he quickly took in her colorless skin and hair, he couldn't help but feel that this Hylian was familiar. Naturally, it only took him a few seconds to put two and two together to get Frore, but the fact that the genderless Chilfos had become a female Hylian still surprised him. If anything, he had expected her to be totally androgynous. Regardless, it mattered little. Judging by her vacant expression, she was no more intelligent than she had been as a monster. Definitely easier on the eyes, however.

He quickly turned back to Izzaz, wasting precious little time scrutinizing Frore. “Behold,” he declared, gesturing at Lethe and ignoring Veitaru's unrestrained mirth, “The voice in your dreams, I think. We all heard it too. She will tell you more, but for now I must, once again, depart.” One person closer to accomplishing his newest task, the Twili once again sank back into the shadows -specifically Veitaru's- and raced back the way he had come. First impressions of the Sheikah were that he was tough and headstrong, meaning any further conversation with him could very well be irritating and boring. Such work was best left to the fairy.

On the way back into town, he gave some thought to the magic he had sensed around Izzaz's being. Though certainly Twili in origin, the energies were contorted by some unknown permutation. He was dimly aware that he had been in the presence of this brand of magic before, but the specifics escaped him. It seemed that, for the time being, it would remain a mystery.

In Kakariko Village, many of the festival-goers were settling down for lunch. Cain quickly hopped between streets and pavilions, seeking anyone out of the ordinary. He suspected that anyone who had been hearing voices might have come from distant places, and would therefore not be wearing green as the festival's custom dictated. That was where he started.

“Hm,” Lethe glanced over Frore, mildly amused to see his new appearance (or rather—her new appearance). She’d had yet to use the stone on anyone other than herself since it first came into her possession. Frore very well could have died for all she knew. …But how important could a Chilfos be to the Goddess Farore’s plan? She was basically just a vessel for that shady looking Twili anyway, right?

She frowned as Frore struggled to pronounce Cain’s name. “Oh, what’s that big egocentric shadow ever done for you?” she objected, “If you want a name worth saying try ‘Lethe’— L-ee-th. There! See? You’re making progress already.

“Now all you gotta do is tell people to go meet up at the Shadow Temple. Go. To. Temple. Got it?” Lethe’s enunciation lesson was cut short as the graveyard gate—which she didn’t remember ever being there before—was suddenly wretched open.

“Show yourself, and I might give you a fair fight!”

Who… was he talking to? Lethe stared as he shouted from the graveyard’s entrance and drew his sword. Vei burst out laughing, obviously finding the whole thing hilarious. Lethe, on the other hand, was utterly perplexed…. The pool of living shadow that was Cain quickly answered her question, however. Was alarming people from within their own shadow something he considered fun, she wondered? Well… admittedly, it was a bit funny. If she ever decided to use the ring to turn herself into a Twili she might be tempted to do the same thing….

Nonetheless, while she was happy to have found yet another person she was looking for—and so quickly, at that—there were many more left to find and she had little time to waste. “You three start looking. Do whatever it takes to get them there. Be persistent, alright? Don’t take no for an answer!”

Lethe began to close the distance between Izzaz and her group’s secluded corner, “I’ll take care of our newest colleague here.”

---

The crinkling of wax paper accompanied Felicia’s tentative footsteps as she maneuvered through the crowd, a fresh caramel apple cradled in her hands like a baby bird or priceless piece of china. The smooth, glossy coat of caramel enticed her so, yet she’d filled herself up on honey barbequed pork on a stick and corn on the cob. As she made her way towards the direction of the windmill, the sound of an eerily familiar voice accompanied by the twanging of a lute caught her attention. She craned her neck in the direction of the sound and, lo and behold….

Uh--! Felicia started to turn, preparing to run, but stopped-- instead observing the crazy man from earlier as he sang his song about the Hero of Time to a young red-headed girl. It didn’t sound like a rap, but more of a simple song—a fairly pleasant song at that.

She chewed her lip pensively. Perhaps she’d misjudged him before? Maybe he was just a really overly enthusiastic musician selling his wares to try and get by? Maybe he was—

She grimaced and released a sigh as the man suddenly reverted back to his rap-style dialect. Then again, maybe not…. Maybe her first impression of the masked man had been spot on.

He turned to set up some of his wares and she quickly spun around on her heel, hoping he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her. I better hurry and finish this, she mentally reminded herself, trying to get her mind off it. Besides, she had enough to worry about….

Just as Jira turned his wary head, he caught glimpse of a familiar red mass of shining hair. Immediately, his serious demeanor was gone and he ran after her. Not only was he excited to see her again, he actually wanted to purchase goods from her too. As he moved to catch up to her he plucked-much to the annoyance of the woman tending them-a single white flower from a nearby pot. He caught up to her enough to place a hand on her shoulder, his demeanor sparkling in joy at once again finding his lady friend. He did not, however, try to pick her up.

"Heeeeeeyyy girly girl~
Where you headed at
With your fine ass hair?
Is it to my open arms
Now now please
Don't raise your alarms
I'm here to make your sale
So whaddya' say
I ain't here for a battle royale."

He felt his throat tighten at the last 'rhyme' and he tensed up. Quickly he put the flower into her hair and skittered away just as fast as he had come to her. The feeling of warmth threatened to pour from his throat as he hurried into an alley. Once he was sure to be out of the sight of others he ripped his mask off, his unkempt blonde hair falling around his face as he knelt over a lone vase and began to cough. He watched as blood poured from his lips and into the empty pottery.

This happened a lot. As much as he enjoyed rap, slipping up even a little in the rhyme scheme had... consequences. He was able to sing as long as he continued to rhyme or keep a steady rhythm; all that did was tire him out from the strain... but words that completely didn't rhyme in an intended rap... He closed his emerald eyes, shaking and panting a little as the tremors that plagued his body eventually settled down. With a sigh, he rubbed his gloved hands through his blonde hair and relaxed against the wall. He curled his legs against his chest and stared at the wall, being silent. There was something about coughing up blood that really killed your mood. His eyes just happened to slide over to look inside the vase when he noticed something that caught his eye.

"Hm?" He pulled the vase a bit closer and fished his hands inside, his gloves blocking out the blood and saliva in the bottom of the pot from reaching his skin. He pulled out what his eyes had been caught on and looked carefully at it after wiping away the crimson spit. A green rupee. His forehead creased in confusion. The heck...?

Then he looked over to see an array of pots and vases along the doors of the alley. Slowly he grinned and slipped the mask back on. Treasure hunting time~

Magus slowly turned towards the youngest girl that was currently apart of their group as she requested he look away from the ice creature turned human as it dressed. While it was hard to tell, there seemed to be a sense of confusion to how the hooded shadow being stood. Still he turned away without saying anything if only to avoid having a conversation that he suspected such a young child would have trouble understanding. Listening as the fairy started to try and teach the former ice creature to say her name in what had to be one of the most arrogant ways possible, Magus took it as a sign that he was now free to turn around again.

Looking towards the now hopefully clothed 'human' woman, Magus seemed to inspect her and her efforts to talk much like a researcher would inspect the results of one of his experiments. "One of my fellow researchers once suggested that if you were to talk a human mind and transfer it over to the body of a wolf, over time the mind would become more and more wolf like until all that was left was a very clever wolf that had strange dreams of being human. Form defines function much like how pouring water into a jug causes it to become jug shaped after all... It was limited only to a theory since any actual experimentation on the matter would not only be highly unethical but would require horrible experiments in order to discover a means in which to transfer the mind of one creature into the body of a completely different one."

"Still... It will be interesting to see how our icy friend handles being in a human body for an extended period of time. I believe the word you are trying to pronounce is C-ain."

Before further inspection and interaction with a surprising little experiment could continue, Magus turned his head towards the commotion that was taking place because someone had walked into the graveyard, demanding a fight for who knew what reason. Deciding to ignore the matter for the moment, he did ask the very important question "Where exactly is this Temple of Shadow and how do we get there?"

Lethe motioned towards the elevated entrance to the temple at the back of the graveyard once again with an aggravated sigh, "Over there. Just have them wait at the base of the cliff. Judging by what I've seen so far, I'd wager not all of you will be able to climb those trees so easily." Indeed, the entrance was shrouded by several trees and at the top of a very steep hill—nigh impossible to climb unless you were very agile when it came to climbing trees. "You won't be able to get inside without my help anyway-- so don't even try," she added airily.

The sound of fast approaching footsteps behind her as she turned away sent a chill up Felicia’s spine. She side-stepped and spun around just before the man attempted to place a hand on her shoulder. Yet more unsolicited touching, she frowned, pulling her candied apple closer to her chest and attempting to hide it with her hands.

“Uh…,” she blinked at him as he rapped at her. ‘I’m here to make your sale’…? Did he want to buy something?

She attempted to step further away from him as he suddenly reached his hand towards her face, but nearly bumped into a passing festivalgoer. She winced and closed her eyes, unsure of what he was going to do now. She felt her hair move and something soft brush against her cheek, opening her eyes just as he hastily withdrew his hand and ran off.

The flower had been so hurriedly placed; it hung loosely from her hair, brushing against the corner of her eye as she stared after him. Startled, she shook her head like a cat with tape on it’s ear and watched as a small white flower fell softly onto the ground.

“Wha…?” she looked up, sweeping the crowd for the man, but found no one. Being unable to see his face, she had been incapable of noticing he was feeling sick. If she had noticed, she most certainly would have been concerned but, as it were, she was simply left standing there puzzling over the strangeness that was he.

Perhaps he had forgotten something important and suddenly remembered? She took a step in the direction he had run off towards, but stopped-- caught in an inner debate with herself.

Would chasing after him really be wise? she chided herself, That would be just asking for trouble. Practically begging for it. But then….

She sighed. Maybe something was wrong? Why would he come talk to me like he wants to do business and then suddenly disappear like that? His voice sounded funny on that last word, she thought, But maybe I just imagined it….

That’s it!

She walked hesitantly in the direction she’d seen him go. He must have been so embarrassed about messing up that last rhyme that he decided to run away! She frowned, feeling a bit of sympathy for the stranger. He needn’t be so hard on himself! She was no expert when it came to rap or even music in general, but… well this would probably give her a good opportunity to politely request that he stop creeping her the heck out at least.

Glancing down an alleyway, she spotted the man retching into someone’s pot. She quickly retreated back behind the wall, peeking at him quietly. She’d almost not recognized him with his mask off—having only caught a glimpse of him before when he decided to flash her a goofy grin before finally setting her down. What she saw next caused her nose to wrinkle in disgust and she felt the urge to hurl wash over her as well.

She leaned back behind the wall as the man pulled his head away from the pot. When she once again chanced a peek, she watched as he fished around in the vomit-filled pot and pulled out a perhaps-once-shiny-but-now-blood-covered rupee. He smiled eerily, looking further down the pot-filled alleyway.

EWwwWwwwWW.

Felicia stepped away from the wall. The man ate rupees. She shook her head regrettably. He was definitely out of his mind. No wonder he was vomiting blood!

She turned to leave the poor man to his self-inflicted fate, but tripped in her haste. In a panicked effort to protect her precious apple, she gripped it tightly and turned herself around. With a crash and a cry, she smashed into a small pile of pottery.

“HEY!” a man from the corresponding booth cried-- evidently the owner of said pots, “You better be able to pay for those!”

The Gerudo child’s laughter did nothing but frustrate him and embitter him in his cynicism, also as his dislike of Gerudos themselves was only beginning to reinforce his first impressions of a bratty child caught up into this like some game. Even alert to his surroundings and careful not to let his guard down, he looked in her direction to see another one, an unattractive and pale woman to his eyes to what seemed to be the source of the child’s laughter at first. The voice spoke again to him, making his sight move towards what seemed to be his shadow. A being able to bend itself and its form to the shadows? Impossible! Izzaz watched as the shadow transformed and used his own shadow as cover. A fair fight would be very unlikely as having the shadows themselves used as cover, other than a place for hiding. But for now, he would stand down and sit on one of the tombstones near the group of oddballs that were picked by the Goddesses.

Looking at his sword, he thought of passing the time by sharping it, as he liked to keep his blades sharp as he waited for whoever led this merry band of oafs. He looked around to analyze the group in his mind.

The gerudo child has an uncanny knack for mockery. Still… it seems that being trained by my tribe from the looks of it is still highly inexperienced. Best to offer her training in an honest kill as her kind masters the ways of deceit and treachery from the womb. The woman however is useless in combat and could die without bulking up, but I doubt her body can handle it now. The cloaked man, however is particularly vulnerable to fire unless he had a body made of iron. It would wise to request him if he could build a forge for me in return. And lastly the shadow being… is an odd one. If he is, what is says he is, then he will be a useful ally or if he becomes a future enemy, he could otherwise an interesting fight.

The parameters by which Cain searched led him to stop briefly among the party of Gorons that had recently come down from the mountains. He regarded them before entering the crowd, having stopped on the wall of a townhouse. Out of all those living in the World of Light, he liked Gorons the most. They were proud and powerful, yet also intensely compassionate. By generally staying in Death Mountain they bothered nobody with pretensions or ambitions, and when they did come down from their lofty, stony home, they treated those they met with respect and brotherly companionship. This was a people that would never usurp a throne, invade a realm, or betray their own. Some categorized the Gorons as stupid, but in Cain's vision, they were perhaps the wisest of all, and worth tolerating. If the World of Light were to end, their destruction would be a deep regret to him. He resumed his search, jumping between the shadows of the children of the earth and succinctly looking at each one for any anomaly.

As he was scrutinizing one individual, he heard a loud, hefty crunch behind him. Initially paying it no mind, Cain was very surprised to hear a deep, rumbling voice call from the same direction. “I have found you, shadow-walker!”

The Twili whirled, equally enraged that he had apparently been found and intrigued at who might have been able to do so. He was currently cast over the back of the stocky merchant he had examined before, and when he faced about his red irises flared. Before him, sitting upon a simple rug and with a half-eaten slab of granite in one hand, was a Goron with one eye.

This specimen was large and portly, even for his kind, and heavily tattooed. Cain instantly spotted the symbols of autumn, Din, Sheikah, and Zora, as well as plenty of Goron marks. Rather than the normal small, black marble eye of his race, his left eye was solid yellow, and streaks of the same color flowed out across his craggy cheek as if they were tears. Though difficult to make out without getting closer, there appeared to be markings on the eye: six shapes arranged in a circle, three of them triangles pointing inward and three of them circles, all arranged in an alternating pattern.. He wore several arm bands, each crafted of either copper, tin, or bronze, if Cain could guess. Next to his feet, resting on the carpet beside its own, was a large satchel embroidered from dark red fabric interspersed with gold in intricate, no doubt cultural designs. A hard-looking, sphere-shaped lump in the bag suggested the presence of a weapon, even in the genial atmosphere of the Festival of Time. Finally, a little smile played across the stone giant's wide, black lips.

“How did you see me?”
The smile grew larger. “This eye of mine is just a scar, nothing magical here. My gift is patience and observation. You must have escaped notice for so long. It is because people, no matter their breed, are always in a rush to get the most out of their lives. I live for a long time, and I've learned to slow down and notice the little things. Like a living shadow. Are you a spirit?”

Cain shrugged, a spark of amusement in his eye. “Maybe—a lost spirit, that is. Tell me this, brother. Do you here voices in the night?”
At that, the Goron shook his head, and seriousness replaced the glimmer of joy on his huge features. “I suspected you were looking for something or someone. It seems I, Potemno, am not who you seek.”
Much of the interest that had illuminated the Twili's eyes faded. It became obvious, even in his ephemeral form, that he wanted to move on. “Pity. Then I, Cain, must depart. If you happen to see a noble ranger, a fishy merchant, an old whitebeard, or a masked man, please don't hesitate to direct them to the graveyard.” He left the green-clothed child from the list, since there were so many running around and to attempt to single one out would be nigh-impossible. “You know where it is?”

The Goron called Potemno nodded. “Fair winds and smooth roads.”

“Let us hope.” With that, Cain vanished again. Potemno watched him go. Strange that someone could look so evil and yet act so civilized. Thinking about his dark visitor, the Goron absent-mindedly took another bite of granite.

"Hm?" Jira looked over to where the shop keeper had started complaining about pots just as he fished a red rupee from the next pot over. And then he saw her. His eyes got soft as he slipped his mask on and he blushed. Whats this? She had come to see him? She'd been concerned~? No one... had ever been concerned for him before, as a nomad... He blushed and ran, almost in slow motion towards her.

"Lover, Lover!
Have you come to me,
Without search of any other?
I can't believe this;
No one would, not even my mother!"

Oops, too much information. Maybe he shouldn't bring up the fact that his parents thought he was a total loser for not spending the rest of his life on their farm. Something struck him out of his joyous reverie when it caught his eye. He stopped and turned right when he was in front of Felicia, deathly silent. He watched, his green eyes darting back and forth beneath the mask he wore... looking for that stray shadow that had followed him since coming from the last town. One thing was sure, he was on guard now.

"H-Hey, Pretty mama,"

He started, tilting his head back towards her while keeping his eyes fixed on the alleyway.

"I got some business
With ya, Ain't got time for samba."

He extended the hand which held his recently plucked red rupee towards her, withholding the green one he'd picked from his bloody pot.

"Pay with this,
And don't tarry
Else I'll place ya with a kiss.
Hurry now,
We should get going.
This alley is cramping my style
Though it ain't showing."

In truth he was nervous. The last thing he wanted to do was get his sweet little redhead in danger, especially when she apparently cared enough for him to come check on him.

Oh no….

Horror-struck, Felicia watched Jira come bounding over to her like an excited dog greeting it’s master. L-lover…? She blushed, even more embarrassed as the irate pot salesman turned his attention to the rapping loon. 'I don't know him! Really I don't!' she tried to communicate to the potter with her eyes as she looked back and forth between them. Fortunately for Jira, his reference to his mother temporarily went over Felicia’s head whilst she scrambled for something to say and shakily righted herself.

As Jira grew silent, glancing down the alleyway at something neither of them could see, the seller kicked a piece of broken pottery, muttering curses at Felicia and running his fingers threw his wispy greying hair.

“Ah…,” Felicia stared at the red rupee in Jira’s hand. He was giving her money? “I’m… I’m sorry, but I really can’t accept thi-“

“20 rupees?” the potter cried, “You think 20 rupees is going to cover this?” The man gestured to the broken shards on the ground. Then a lecherous smile spread across his face. “No, these pots were of the finest grade. You better hope you’ve got 2,000 rupees on hand or else I’m afraid I’ll have to call the guards!”

“Wh-what?!” Felicia stammered incredulously, “2,000 rupees?! That’s... ridiculous! Of course I don’t have that kind of money! Th-there’s no way these pots were so expensive! They’re the same generic pots I buy for 5 rupees a piece at the shop at Lake Hylia!”

The man frowned, “Look here, sweetheart, I crafted those pots myself and I couldn’t care less how much your pretty little brain thinks they cost. Now fork over the cash or else get ready to spend some serious time in the Kakariko jailhouse!”

Felicia’s mouth hung open helplessly. The man stared at her expectantly with an upturned palm, beckoning for the cash with his fingers. Oh no…, she told herself, Don’t you do it. Don’t do it, Felicia.

Her head began to turn whilst her eyes lingered on the red faced salesman.

No, no, no! Bad idea! Just go to jail! Don’t do it! Don't-

Finally, her eyes rested on the masked man, obviously pleading for help although she’d yet to say anything.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I know I barely know you, but… well… er… I really need some… some help, so… c-could you…?”

She had no idea how much money the masked man had. Or how else he could exactly help her out of this situation—but she was starting to feel desperate and as much as she would have liked to handle it herself and never see the weird rupee-eating man again, she was out of options. He could help her out somehow... right? Maybe he could puke up a few big gold rupees?

Magus considered going back into town and attempting to hunt down the girl who's goggles he was currently in possession of. Between the red hair, the green clothing and the fairy that was following her around, he got the distant impression that she was one of the people that the annoying fairy was looking for. However, that would require going back into the crowded town and that was something he only liked doing in small bursts.

Turning himself around till his gaze landed on the young preteen human girl who had been lapping up her own blood when he had arrived, Magus spoke in his echo linden voice in order to gain her attention. " I have a request of you. There is a young girl with red hair who wears green who runs a potion stall in the festival who I believe is one of the people that is meant to be here. She has a fairy of her own following her around so she is kind of hard to miss. Do you think you can hunt her down and get her to come here?"

Frore had disregarded Lethe's recommendation and instead quietly had continued to improve her speech while Cain spoke with Izzaz. When ordered to seek the other ones, she had obliged, moving slowly and deliberation down the graveyard path. As a Hylian, her distinctive movement style seemed less like that of a lumbering brute and more like careful, soldierly grace.

Halfway down the dusty road the butt of her spear dragged along the ground and slipped out of her fingers. Frore attempted to grab it, but failed. When the weapon hit the earth, the hidden mechanism in the shaft activated and contracted the spear until it was little more than a foot-long pole, easily concealable beneath the former Chilfos' inverted cloak. Not registering that she had to conceal the item, however, Frore continued on her path simply holding it in her hand.

Before long, she was back in Kakariko as well. It was slow going; while she didn't generate nearly the response as she had as a seven-foot monster, a six-foot woman still presented something of an obstacle. Despite having only a dim idea of what she was looking for, Frore gave it her best shot. Several minutes into her walk, she came upon a familiar sight: the child she had encountered and accidentally hurt earlier. The little girl, still looking out for potential friends, laughed when she saw Frore and raced over to hug her leg. The girl's mother, now more perceptive of potential danger, quickly walked after her and stopped dead when she saw Frore. Of course, she was no longer a Chilfos, but she still significantly resembled one given her height and lack of color. Just as the mother was about to intercede, Frore knelt down for the second time that day, and patted the child's shoulder before looking up. “Good girl!” Though she spoke like an idiot, it was obvious that she was genuine. “Now, back to mom.” The child obliged, and the mother gave Frore a reluctant smile. Frore's lips trembled, attempting to emulate the expression and failing. The two parted ways somewhat awkwardly, and Frore continued her search.

-=-=-

Only a hundred feet away from the plaza where he had encountered Potemno, Cain halted once again. His mind was racing, reconsidering something he himself had said only seconds ago. A fishy merchant...a masked man...of course! He had seen those people before, less than an hour ago. Cursing himself for missing something so obvious, Cain hastily backtracked until he was back in the area where he had seen the red-haired girl selling fish and the lovestruck oaf that had literally swept her off her feet. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed to be here. After finding the girl's booth under the watch of someone else, presumably a friend, he widened his search to encompass all nearby vendors and stalls. By chance he laid eyes upon several of the silly-looking toys the masked man had been selling, though this time a young man clothed in garb befitting a ranch hand was in charge of them.

So, it seemed that both had left their stock behind and departed. He suspected that hey were together; if not, his task would be doubly difficult. With nothing to go on in terms of determining their location, he decided that a vantage point was necessary to figure out where to begin. Luckily, Matt's stall was outfitted with a tall, ostentatious pole displaying the proud colors and emblem of Lon Lon Ranch, just as extravagant as its sign. No wonder it was so popular. Cain wormed his way up to the tip of the pole, and there assumed his half-bodied form. Having no weight, he was easily able to balance on the tip of the long, metal rod and survey the surrounding area. He had little worry that he might be discovered, since his shadowy body was hard enough to see and few to no people would be looking up at a time when everything interesting was on the ground.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be particularly indicative of either of his targets. Though his position afforded him a great view of the streets and plazas, the spaces between buildings and booths were hidden to him. Just as he was beginning to settle on the idea that he'd need to slog through each alley individually, the crisp sound of shattering pots greeted his ears from the right. Like a hound on the scent, he dived off the pole and returned to shadowform simultaneously. It only took a few precision jumps for him to end up in the shadow of a furious, elderly vendor confronting both the fish girl and the masked man.

What luck! Once his initial elation had died down, Cain examined the situation more closely. The salesman's hand was extended in the signature sign beckoning for money. The girl seemed gravely concerned, and since she wasn't in the process of filling the vendor's outstretched paw with rupees Cain guessed she was unable to fulfill his demands. She also looked understandably reluctant to ask her romantic companion for aid. Though the potter was only doing what anyone else would have done in his situation, Cain did not relish the idea of him calling the guards on the people he wanted to bring in himself. Even an extended encounter would quickly wear on his patience. He seriously toyed with the idea of using his trichomancy to choke out the potter and leave him unconscious. For now, though, he'd see what his prospective companions would do.

Jira looked at the red headed girl... and.. oh no... how she was looking at him... with those...

ba-bump

ba-bump

ba-bump

Jira couldn't help blushing under his mask at how cute she was with those puppy dog eyes. He suddenly felt extremely shy and twirled his fingers around each other whilst looking down and walking sheepishly past her to the man. Once her adorable face was out of his line of sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. He began to fish out his rupee satchel when he noticed something. He quickly snatched up the pot closest to him and raised his hand to his mask. He twisted the knob over his right eye, and the lens extended, narrowing as though it had been made into a traditional magnifying glass. He quickly inspected the pot... and looked up at the merchant. For once since he'd gotten here, he was legitimately angry.

"Fool,
These are not your pots
What you made with your tool.
The glaze?
Clearly mass produced
Homemade?
That price needs to be reduced!
This clay?
From two cities down!
Liar,
Clearly these pots aren't from your town."

Jira twisted his eye lens back into place, in a huff. He pointed at the rupee in the old mans hand furiously.

"Twenty for the broke.
We're leavin' now
Forget we ever spoke."

He turned back to Felicia, instantly his anger melting away upon seeing her, as well as his dignity. He held himself though as he stepped back through the alley, ushering her through with a gloved hand on her back. "Ah..." He started to rap, but then stopped when he looked at her. He paused for a moment and then looked down, blushing once more.

"I didn't mean to...er...
Give you a fright...
B-but uh, If you would
Come accompany me this night..."

Why was he so nervous now? Is it because he realized how cute she was? He didn't even finish his rap, he just awkwardly shifted. Boy it was sure getting foggy out... Oh.. wait no, all his blushing just steamed up his goggles. Damn... Slowly, he slipped off his mask entirely. He was focused on wiping off his lens so much that he wasn't looking at Felicia. His hat was no longer on, revealing his bouncing blonde hair. His piercing green eyes looked down at his mask. As he sighed, the muscles around his jaw tensed and relaxed attractively. He peeked up at Felicia, finding himself blushing once more. His long eyelashes only accentuating his eyes when he blinked before sheepishly looking down again.

"Ah... Well.." Veitaru was somewhat listening to Magus, but Magus would easily notice that she was looking at something behind him. Specifically, Frore leaving. "Shouldn't someone keep an eye on... Her? It? That person? Fero? Friar? Ferari?" Veitaru's concern seemed to become tangentially sidetracked by trying to puzzle out whatever the correct term for Frore was, and Veitaru didn't seem to have gotten it quite right. She did seem to be very aware of this fact, and was still puzzling it out. Veitaru hopped up onto a nearby grave, holding onto a thin upraised part while leaning away from it to keep the path in view, shielding her eye and staring a moment before glancing back to Magus.

"Ah, kay. So, Red Hair, same exact clothes as everyone else, kid, fairy right? Remember the color of the fairy?" Vei asked, still keeping an eye on Frore,

Angus sat on the seat of his cart, whistling an old tune to himself as he and his horse descended the mountain pass away from his forge. It was early morning when he reached the sprawling Hyrule field, he took in a deep breath of the clean, fresh and moist air that made a difference to the dusty and dry air he was used to. Glancing up at the sun he leant forward and pat the side of his horse. "Should be at the town in no time." As the cart passed by the Lon Lon ranch he looked up to see one of the young horses racing around the cliff edge beside it's mother, he smiled up at it then back to his own steed, thinking back to when the two had first met. "To think that you and me were once as young as that lil' guy up there." He chuckled.

Just before mid morning the carriage passed over the stone bridge beside the Castletown walls, the sound of the festival was echoing down from the village and Angus could feel some excitement building inside him, he felt like a kid again, hearing stories of the hero's grand adventure and hoping one day he'd have one of his own. Finally the cart reached it's destination, Angus hopped off the cart and stretched, rubbing his back and letting out a yawn. "Well, here we are!" Leaving his trusted horse outside the town with the cart he headed in, gazing around at the stalls and celebrations all taking place in his old home town. The place was just as he remembered it, the many wooden houses and stores, the towering death mountain above, the creaky old windmill and the mysterious well next to it, the passage leading off to the graveyard that had terrified him as a child and even the small fenced off chicken hutch that never kept the livestock. Along with the old familiar sights he took note of the various stalls, there didn't seem to be many tool or weapon vendors, in fact it mostly seemed to be cheap merchandise stalls which appeared to be there solely to draw in children.

After a little while of browsing Angus set about trying to find somewhere to set up his stall and. As he began to search the blacksmith realised just how packed the town was, thankfully his imposing hight and stature allowed him to pass through the crowd and soon enough he found a vacant stall outside the potion store. After about an hour he had his display set out, from gardening tools to throwing knives, all his stock was neatly arranged from left to right with the jolly giant stood with his arms folded behind the wooden counter. "Finest tools in all of Hyrule!" He bellowed out over the chatter of the fair, his voice attracting the attention it was intended to. "Limited stock from a master craftsmen!" He smiled as the first customers began to look his goods over and inquire about prices and quality, while not a great salesman Angus was friendly and his pride in his work assured people of the value. "The hero himself wouldn't turn these tools down! Farmers! Warriors! Guards and adventurers! All can find something with buying!"

Felicia chewed her lip as Jira went off on the salesman, wrapping the wax paper around the candied apple and carefully slipping it into one of her overall pockets. She found her attention wasn’t as captured by his heroism, if you could call it that, as the pulsating vein that was beginning to appear on the man's swollen tomato-colored temple. He looked angry... really really angry. She sure hoped the masked man knew what he was doing.

Her worries temporarily seceded as the masked man placed a hand on her back and... wait, what was he inviting her to do with him?! What did he mean by accompanying him? This night?

She reproachfully pulled away, a suspicious scowl set on her face… which promptly melted away as he removed his mask to reveal a rather stunning looking man. It was hard to say considering his youthful features and behavior, but he couldn't have been much younger or older than herself. This she found surprising.

Felicia had taken him to be a hyperactive young man that had a weird fetish for older ladies. She tried to remind herself she really wasn’t all that old, but it was a vain notion. She felt like she was nearly 40 although she was only 26 and she doubted that would change any time soon. As it were, however, she felt a small tint of color flooding her own cheeks when she noticed how red the no-longer-masked man’s face was.

She opened her mouth to, as politely as possible, request that his superfluous little romance farce end here and now, but was cut off by the sound of eerily amused laughter that stopped them both in their tracks.

"You shouldn't have done that," the salesmen grinned, his face no longer red. There was an unnerving calm about him that gravely concerned Felicia as she stared. The man then suddenly looked as though he were about to sneeze-- a curious happenstance considering the menacing air he'd just been trying to put on not but a second before.

"Ah... ah... AHHH... CHOO!”

Bringing a closed fist to his mouth, a small cloud of shimmering white dust flew from the wrinkled crevice of the man’s palm. Instantly, a spell of drowsiness seized Felicia and she doddered precariously on her heels, fighting to stay awake. She collapsed rearward-- expecting to fall up against the wall of the building they stood beside, but instead she felt someone's arms catch her and pull her into the building through a suddenly opened trap door. The dark mouth of the mystery building swallowed both of them up in less than a second-- escaping the notice of the crowd. Through blurry eyes, Felicia watched the daylight disappear with a creaky snap.

Masters of their despicable craft, the same two men who had tripped Felicia into the pots had their captives’ hands securely tied in less than half a minute. The room wherein they worked was pitch black save for a faint, flickering light coming from a basement stairway. One man threw Felicia over his shoulder whilst the other, rather unceremoniously, dragged Jira down the staircase by his heels. The poor man would likely suffer quite the headache when he finally came to.

The pair were tied back to back to a wooden support beam and the men, mere silhouettes against the lone candle within the dark, dank basement, began freeing them of the items in their inventory.

“A fish merchant? Seriously? She looks like she’s been wearing these overalls for the past 10 years,” one of the men groaned as he prodded her bobblehead with his finger, “She’s got a nice sword on her though. I mean-- it’s a piece of shit but at least it looks nice.”

“I dunno—this one looks pretty loaded,” the other smiled, groping Jira’s wallet in his hands like it was a woman’s breast—a lewd grin parting his dimly lit lips.

“Don’t even think about it, Rigby. Put the junk on the table and wait for the boss to get down here.”

The other man grumbled as he tossed the fat wallet onto the wooden table that housed the candle.

“Hehe, look at this,” he said, brightening up as he held up the grappling hook.

“Whoa! Shit, dude! Those things are fucking rare!”

“Hehe,” the man aimed it at the table and fired—obviously oblivious to what exactly would happen. The end piece shot forward, latching onto the wooden edge of the table. Suddenly, it jerked both he and the table together—causing the candle to topple over and sending the man lurching head first towards the table. He let go just in the nick of time, sprawling out painfully on the cold stone floor rather than smashing his head against the tabletop.

The candle weakly sputtered before finally going out.

“You’re such an idiot.”

As the pitiful flame was extinguished and the wax that had held the burning wick in place splattered over the damp, lichen-encrusted cobblestone floor, the room was plunged into total darkness. The two master thieves were acolytes of the shadows, bound to it not only by trade but by sinister preference, mirroring the void within their own selves. This, of course, was only figurative; while they operated in the night and the alleys, preying on any unfortunate enough to come into their paths, they were far from actual beings of darkness.

And yet, when the gloom settled over them, it felt strangely unnatural. The hairs on the backs of their hands and necks rose like the shackles of dogs on the alert. Though they knew themselves to be alone -such professionals would never have allowed themselves to be followed and certainly never retreated to a lair where there was any chance of intrusion- neither could shake the feeling that there was something in there, something aside from their victims bound helplessly to the wooden column. With the only source of heart gone and this cellar inaccessible to sunlight, the air should have been cold and still, no different than a tomb. Instead, the air felt strangely warm, and moved every so slightly, tickling those raised hairs and thoroughly setting them on edge. When the candlelight vanished, so to did the thieves' sense of security, despite their years of experience and confidence in their abilities. It just didn't feel right—and the feeling persisted until one of the men, Rigby's more intellectually gifted companion, made a sort of connection.

The darkness felt alive.

“No,” came a voice, louder than a whisper and full of smugness. Instantly both men were on alert, each scrabbling to arm themselves with the nearest available item (the grappling hook for Rigby and Felicia's longsword for Mordecai). With no light available, their eyes were useless, so each retreated until the found a wall. From their they had one less angle that needed defense from, and both put all their effort into hearing so as to identify the location of the interloper. For a moment there was no sound whatsoever except for the faint moaning of Felicia and the Rain Spider.

“You both are.”

A sense of helplessness, strangely ironic for those who had just moments ago abused the helpless, pervaded the thieves' minds as they realized that the voice sounded from all around them and it would be impossible to pinpoint the intruder's location. Though a sense of rising fear couldn't be avoided, neither shouted out into the darkness, opting instead to wait for the owner of the voice to come to them.

They didn't have long to wait. Without any warning the room was suddenly illuminated by harsh orange light. The thieves' darkness-adjusted eyes were agonized by the sudden glare and were unable to act before a huge, sun-colored fist smashed Rigby against the wall his back was against, dazing him. Mordecai, recovering from the blindness, managed to make out a dark figure silhouetted by the light his own hair was giving off. Silently, the man lunged forward, and plunged the stolen blade through his nebulous enemy's chest. To his dismay the steel passed right through Cain's body. “What!?” he cried, beginning to lose his control.

The shadowy figure turned and regarded the man with red eyes. He seemed to be smiling. “Really isn't fair, is it?” Mordecai, growing desperate, unleashed a wide slash with the longsword, which severed a few glowing hairs. Before the thief could exploit the knowledge that he could actually do damage to Cain, the Twili brought the hairhand crushing down onto the forearm of his sword arm. The blade clattered to the floor and, Mordecai, holding his injured arm, retreated back to his original position. He said nothing, only glaring into Cain's eyes, green on red. By this time Rigby was on his feet again, and -having apparently not learned from his first attemp- fired his grappling hook at Cain's exposed back. The tool shot straight through him and instead clattered against the wall near Mordecai's head. Thinking quickly, Cain grabbed the chain and pulled, causing Rigby to stumble forward. The fist smashed against the back of his head, rendering him unconscious, before scooping up Felicia's blade. Before Mordecai could move, Cain buried the weapon into his leg. The man screeched in pain and fell to the floor, unable to stand up. In a few moment, Cain judged, the loss of blood would make him pass out.

Leaving him to do so, Cain floated to where Jira and Felicia were bound. It looked like they were just regaining their senses. The Twili ripped off their restraints and then left to search for the trapdoor by which they had entered. In a few moments he had both located and destroyed it, allowing the sunlight to pour in. He was satisfied with himself; he hadn't needed to kill either of the men or use his full-bodied form to do so. With an air of satisfaction he returned to the others and melted into Felicia's shadow in preparation for travel. “Get up,” he said, irritable, “I've saved you. All is well. Come come, get up, grab your things. You need to get to the graveyard before their friends arrive.”

"Nng...."

His head felt as though twenty Gorons had sat upon it. It was so bad that it hurt to even open his eyes. He heard sounds of fear around him as his foggy mind struggled to comprehend what had happened. The last thing he remembered was turning to face the salesmen, and, at last out of his blushy stupor, the face came back to him. It was he... that merchants had heard of, had feared. How could he have been so stupid? He'd been so focused on impressing the red headed woman that he hadn't even considered looking twice at the face of that... creature. Even going as far as taking off his mask, even for a moment. That damn thing was meant to protect him from falling into shit like this. The girl didn't even seem interested in him anyways. The thought made Jira's heart sink into his stomach. He felt someones hands on his as his ties were undone. At last he was freed and he fell forward, barely catching himself on his hands in time.

He really was better off alone. Then he didn't get people he even somewhat cared about into danger like this.

His hands shaking, the Rain Spider picked himself up and walked unsteadily to the table. He was panting a bit, from what, he wasn't sure. At last his gloved fingers found his mask in the darkness and slipped it over his face before retrieving his wallet and his other items. He holstered his grappling hook onto his belt and, his head thick with the fog of a splitting headache and the sleeping powder, he made his way to the outside. When he was out in the sunshine, he slammed his back against the wall next to it, pulling on his hat and concealing himself once more. He considered waiting for the woman he'd been putting so much effort into, and whoever it was down below, but his guilt persuaded him to leave.

He turned down the alley, wanting nothing more than to slip away from this place and disappear. What a stupid idea it was to come here... who the hell listened to voices in their head anyway? He needed to just get his wares from lon lon ranch and go.

She knew she'd been looking forward to seeing the world. Just on the way here, she'd seen the wide open fields and the winding Zora river. She had barely met anyone on the way, not until she approached the town and struck up a conversation with one other festival-goer. It had been pleasant enough – a Kokori who ended up hanging behind to await a friend who was running late with hand-carved figurines to sell.

However, as Ekra tilted her head back to look at the walls of the Kakariko Village, where the supposed Hero of Time festival was being held, she began wondering if it was too late to feign ignorance and slip back to the Lost Woods. She could see all the adults – her first thought was her shortage of Deku nuts which would make tricking all these people nearly impossible. Then was the realization of the sheer volume of people – probably more people, Hylians and Gorons and others, than there were trees in the forest. The moment she actually passed through the gates, she'd be hemmed in by them all. Singular persons or small groups, she had some idea of what to do. Entire crowds were new. She tugged her cloak a bit tighter around her body, hoping no one would take a closer look at her bark-like fingers. The cloak was long enough to conceal her legs, and the Keaton mask proved capable of allowing her to pass as a Hylian child, but she never had thought to grab gloves and by the time the whispers started, it was too late. Just, as she finally decided, it was too late to leave. She'd just have to suck it up.

The security was expected, but the cloak hid her satchel just as well as the rest of her, and she barely spent a minute at the gates before entering. The festival proved to be just as chaotic on the inside of the city gates – the people missed the small skull kid, pushing her around in their hurry to reach a stall before it sold out, to get food, to reunite with friends and family. One particularly quick Goron knocked her to the ground and left before she registered what happened; and, as always, she picked herself back up and dusted herself off. Ok, she had shown up and nothing was happening, so surely, the earlier doubt told her, it was safe to go back home. Nothing would happen at all. But why bring her in the first place? No, just needed to stick it out and, in the meantime, try to get a taste of things.

It took what felt like forever but soon the skull kid was navigating the crowds with significantly more ease, keeping collisions to a minimum. Some sellers had actually put their wares on top of the counters of their stalls. Those were easy to pick up and question.

“Is this what the Hero of Time looked like?”
“This is a Gah-roo-doh?”
“Why is everyone selling ocarinas?”

Some were polite, albeit condescending, answering her questions as though she were a very young child. Some snatched their merchandise back and either spat rude responses or told her to leave. One shot back with an implied insult as to the reason she needed the mask. None of it was surprising, she supposed. All sorts passed through the Lost Woods. The most shocking thing she saw was a stall collapse itself, vines pulling away before she could reach it, and either a Hylian or a Kokori fleeing. Ekra guessed they had an extremely successful day and had no further wares to sell. Not too far, though, was a blacksmith. The front of his store was bustling with people, and Ekra watched, unsure if she wanted to approach. Mostly, the problem would be getting close enough to ask questions and poke around, and the fact that in such close quarters, any tricks would be easily uncovered.

She made sure the Keaton mask was on straight and the cloak secure before approaching the back of the crowd. Maybe she could pull a different trick. She tugged on the back of one man's shirt, hiding her hand before the man turned around.

“Oh! Are you lost?”

“I'd like to get a look at one of the throwing knives. Could you get one back here, please?”

“You're a little young, aren't you?”

“Kokori. Please?”

“Oh, alright.” He had begun to turn when he stopped. “And how do I know that's true?”

“I'm 96. Please?” This was beginning to get frustrating.