Jira, the more physically capable of the two, stirred first. Still in a drunken sort of haze, he trundled around the room in search of his things, pawing at each several times before he collected them. Cain watched him impassively, debating whether or not to jump into his shadow or remain with Felicia, who might need additional goading. When the Rain Spider, now masked once again, made his way outside, the Twili decided to go with him instead. There was really only one direction the fish vendor could conceivably go: toward the light.

Once inside Jira's shadow, it didn't take long for Cain to realize that something was off. Aside from the manner in which he moved and his obvious migraine judging by how he held his hand to his head -which, Cain knew, would not mitigate the agony at all- he appeared to be moving in the wrong direction. There were a few other people around, all more or less preoccupied in their business, though none as much as Jira. Cain decided a little encouragement was in order.

“I don't know much about Kakariko,” he began, enunciating each word to a degree that would likely make his host's head pound. “But I believe the graveyard is to the east. I didn't save your life and your property so that you could traipse off to Hyrule Field. Let's make sure your girlfriend is coming, too.” Cain sincerely wished that he was able to use Dark Travel in shadow form; sadly, his magical ability was simply not of that caliber.

Angus clapped his hands together loudly and called for order as the first customers brought out their wallets, the crowd was chaos and people were waving their hands to get his attention. "Alright! Alright!" He pointed to a young farmer by the young and skinny and after one of the scythes and a hoe, no doubt for tending his crops. "That'll be ninety rupees for the two my good man." He said, wrapping the tools in some brown paper to make them easier to transport and protect them from harm. "Ninety?! That's a bit steep don't you think?" The farmer replied, clearly wanting to test his haggling skills. "It was gonna' be a nice round hundred but since you're my first customer of the day I decided to lower it." The farmer frowned and crossed his arms, looking the tools over as they were wrapped. The crowd let out a slight moan, hearing about the discount they missed out on. "Sixty." He said at last. "Ok, have it your way." The smith took the hoe and handed it across the table before beginning to unwrap the scythe. "Wait, wait, fine, seventy five," Angus moved a hand to his chin and stroked it slowly. "Eighty and you've got a deal." Angus stretching a hand out across the table and cocking his head to the side smiled reassuringly at the farmer. "Deal." The farmer shook the hand and took the tools before pushing through the crowd to make his way home. "Right! Who's next then?"

It took a little while but the crowd eventually managed to gain some control over itself, those who were browsing stood in the centre and looked over the tools and when they decided they either moved on or went and stood in a line to the side and waited to speak with the master smith. His farming supplies went almost straight away, then a visit from an officer in the castle guard took most of the weapons. Very soon he was left with only the scraps of his stock, a shovel, a short sword, a claymore and 4 throwing knives. "I knew I should have brought more." He said with a sigh, wiping his brow with his arm. His gaze then shifted to a small cloaked figure wearing a mask, he had seen them looking at the knives but had seemed to wait for a while, hanging back until the crowd dispersed. Now the sole customer left Angus leant on the wooden stall, making it creek slightly. "Hello there, what can I do you for?" He gave her a friendly smile and waited for her response.

"I have a request of you," Magus said, turning to Veitaru, "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?"

Veitaru seemed vaguely to be listening as she stared after Frore, who was obediently lumbering out of the graveyard already. Lethe had been deeply offended by how Frore wouldn’t say her name and even more bothered by the Chilfos’ loyalty to Cain. The shadow snake had ditched her without a thought. Had he already forgotten the trouble Frore had gotten into last time?

“Yes, I think keeping an eye on that one would be best,” Lethe answered when Vei posed the question.

"Ah, kay. So, Red Hair, same exact clothes as everyone else, kid, fairy right? Remember the color of the fairy?" Vei asked Magus, still looking after Frore.

“Like that matters,” Lethe growled, growing impatient on top of irritated, “How many fairies do you normally see flitting about outside of the Kokiri Forest anyway? Those old termites usually stay cooped up by the Deku Tree. Kokiri aren't exactly a common sight!” Something had struck a chord within the small fairy—from the moment Magus mentioned the kokiri’s fairy. One would likely find it hard to spot, however, considering how petulant the fairy’s mood had proved to be thus far.

“Just get a move on you two,” she flew into the side of Magus’ head, giving him a small but proper shove towards the graveyard’s gate—her statement obviously directed at him more so than Vei, “I already told you I’m on a tight schedule. Hurry up! Go! Both of you!"

Turning back to their newest member, Lethe paused. He’d just been sitting there on the gravestone. Cain had already made it clear that she was to explain what was going on, so he must be waiting for her. He almost looked like a school boy, patiently waiting for class to begin— or rather, he would have had his appearance been less…. Lethe racked her brain for the right word. Unsettling? Scary? Rugged?

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” Lethe purred, flying closer. She encircled him much like she’d done to the others—only with much more caution, “Of course, one can’t always equate silence with wisdom, now can they? Sometimes lakes filled with fish are just as still on the surface as lakes void of life.” She inwardly chuckled at her indirect jibe, thinking herself quite clever.

“I expect I’ll find out soon why the Goddess described you as the Foolish One,” Lethe said guardedly, her eyes narrow.

“But I digress… you’re here because you’ve been chosen. Whether or not I think you worthy matters little. The well-being of Hyrule is far more important than outward appearances and prejudice, don’t you think?

“Anyways… the others are off looking for the other chosen ones. We will meet at the entrance of the Shadow Temple and I’ll explain what must be done there. In the meantime, I could use your help with something. If you’re up to it.”

The crowd slowly dispersed over time. Even that man who had denied Ekra the opportunity to more closely examine the throwing daggers had left, his bag burdened by a plain dagger (and a Deku nut. Ekra had seen its donation to the man to be a worthy cause, as long as he did not accidentally set the bag down). She began pondering others things to do at the festival - perhaps try some food. She'd never tasted meat before and, though it didn't smell appetizing, what harm would it do to lift some for a try?

It was the creak of the stall that caught her attention and made her realize that she was alone at the stall with the blacksmith. So she could get some questions in after all. Behind the mask, she smiled, and stepped up to the front of the stall. The throwing knives were to her left, out of reach - and yet suddenly there were only three available and she was holding one up, looking along its edge as if she were peering through a telescope. "Yeah, how do you make these? Do you whittle them?" It was the only method she had any familiarity with, even if she'd never done it herself; Deku seeds lacked the keen edge to carve shapes. It had never occurred to her to ask her visitors, but here was a man who could apparently mass-produce metal objects of all shapes and they seemed to be the same metals. Her wooden fingers were careful to avoid the edges; even if she didn't know how he made them, she knew from experience that weapons like these were sharp and they hurt. "Where do you get the metal from?" It wasn't like there were any metal-fruit trees in the Lost Woods. Of course, the world was a big place, so it didn't strike Ekra as impossible. "Is it like dart-shooting?" That was for more personal reasons - if she really was called here on some important mission, it could be wise to have something else as a backup to protect herself. Deku sticks were most useful if lit, she wasn't about to risk damaging her lantern, and her Deku nuts and seeds were of limited supply.

Magus slowly turned to face the fairy that had shoved his 'head' a little, the creaking of wood that announced any movement of his ringing out in the air. Seemingly standing a little taller than before the rather tall black robed, hooded man who's only identifiable feature that escaped the shadows of his hood was a pair of glowing blue orbs that must have been his eyes simply looked at Lethe with a slightly deadpan 'Are you serious?' expression. "I am aware that you are on a tight seclude and are quite stressed out at the moment Ms Lethe and for that reason I am polite declining your request to go and find the people you are looking for. Before you freak out at me, think about it carefully; If a complete and utter stranger that towered over you who was complete hidden under a robe that bathed everything but his glowing eyes in shadow came up to you and asked in a unearthly tone of voice to come with him to the nearby graveyard, how would you react? It would just make convincing them that coming to the graveyard is a good idea much harder and more complicated than it needs to be."

"I apologies that finding and tracking people in a large crowd runs counter to my abilities. Perhaps there is something else I can do to help you Lethe?" Magus offered the fairy, being surprisingly polite despite her attitude. Glancing towards the preteen ninja girl in their midst, Magus quickly added "Lethe is right, it should be pretty easy to find her. Even more so since she runs a potion stall and appears to be somewhat well known by the towns people. You shouldn't have to much trouble finding her."

Izzaz looked at the fairy and began to take notice of the fairy’s words as he looked at her in a stark stare and simply kept watching her movement. The Shiekah nodded as he put away his blades and got up from the gravestone, crossing his arms and standing upright. He taken offence to what the Goddesses had named him in their game, and made his mind clear about it.

“I agree that the safety of Hyrule is more important than mere projections and assumptions, but I have to ask. Did the Goddesses think that I would not take offence? However, I see you as a mere messenger of their will and if you wish to ask me of something, I will decide myself if I am willing to take the task.”

Jira let out a groan as Lon Lon Ranch's stand came into view. He didn't seem bothered that his shadow was talking to him, but then, maybe he figured he was seeing things due to the swelling lump on the back of his head.

"Why... Whats at the graveya-HMP!!"

He gagged at the end of his sentence and his stomach gurgled nauseously, threatening to spill its contents in greater proportions than before. Ohhhh today was a bad day. With a painful swallow, he let out a sigh and tried once more.

"I mean...
Let the Rain Spider
Collect his seams
I'll repay this debt
N'follow your ...dreams?"

He ended with a groan. At least he was rhyming, if nothing but that.

"'Sides, Lil lady ain't no good for me.
I'll only get her in trouble,
And I don't want that, see?
I feel guilt
You know,
I almost got her blood spilled."

His stomach gurgled again uncomfortably. Perhaps he should keep his mouth shut for now. But there was one thing he did need to say.

"Thanks."

He was thankful he could get away with one word sentences so long as he kept it fresh. He approached Matt and waved his hand weakly.

Keeping his arms resting on the table Angus picked up one of the knives himself leaving two on the table. "I forge them." He said proudly, beginning a sales pitch. "Each and every item you see on this stand has been lovingly hand crafted in a unique and remote metal work run entirely by yours truly." He smiled and saw that the figure was genuinely interested as she asked a second question and so he decided to go into a little more detail. "I mine for resources, digging underground and harvesting precious metals and ores. Next I smelt them down so they're pure and after that I use a sort of template to make them different shapes. After that it's only a matter of cooling them until they become solid and then sharpening the tool if needs be."

Extending a finger to point at the knife she held he moved on to answer her final question. "What you're holding is a specially designed throwing knife, it's been sharpened to be more aero-dynamic which means it flies faster, straighter and does a lot more damage than a dart. Also instead of blowing it out of a tube you just throw it." Taking his own throwing knife Angus began to demonstrate the motions one would go through to toss the knife, slowly at first so she could clearly see. "Just like this."

He set the knife down and slid the three across the desk towards her. "I was going to charge you but something tells me you'll make good use of these, take 'em, on the house. But you gotta' promise that you'll only use 'em for good." He smiled a big toothy and friendly grin. "And if ya' want, one day I can take you up to my forge and teach you to make 'em yourself."

Lethe sighed-- seeming to calm down a little as Magus addressed her. She wasn’t very happy about being interrupted whilst she was trying to talk to Foolish One, but his civility quelled her irritability.

"Ffffine," she said reluctantly, “Then just... wait there over by the Shadow Temple entrance. There isn’t much else I can offer for you to do right now.”

She paused, “Just try not to creep people out once they begin gathering there, alright? I don’t need anybody running away before I even get a chance to talk to them.”

Turning back to the Shiekah, who seemed content with ignoring the brief interruption, she listened attentively as he spoke.

“I agree that the safety of Hyrule is more important than mere projections and assumptions, but I have to ask. Did the Goddesses think that I would not take offence? However, I see you as a mere messenger of their will and if you wish to ask me of something, I will decide myself if I am willing to take the task.”

“If you see me as a mere messenger, why are asking me what the Goddesses think? There must be some reason why they would name you thusly. Can you not think of any reason why they’d tell me you were foolish?” the smirk that had so far occupied her lips began to fade as she spoke again.

“A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool… We’ve all a bit of fool inside us. To ignore the fool would make us all the more foolish and blind as well… perhaps I should call you Blind One? “ she scoffed again as she finished and the darkness faded from her voice.

“The task that I need help with involves a poor old crone by the name of Madame Astrid. She has an artifact that we’ll direly need in our quest. She lives here in town. I need someone to pay her a visit and try to get her to fork it over. The last time I tried to talk to her… things didn’t go so well.”

She’d tried to catch her in a bottle, in fact—mumbling something about fairy wing potion.

Faint voices roused Felicia from her unnatural sleep. She opened her eyes, finding it difficult to register whether or not she was asleep or awake or much of anything for that matter. Her eyes saw only darkness, but the voices she’d been hearing soon grew in clarity as well as volume. She felt her heart begin to race as she soon realized it was horrified screaming she was hearing—soon followed by the heavy thud of a body. She went to cover her head, fearful that whatever was causing the man to scream would descend upon her as well.

She released an exasperated yelp, realizing that hands were tied. No sooner had she started to panic than the rope grew taught and snapped—ripped off by some invisible force.

“Get up,” an irritated voice demanded, “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.”

Felicia recognized this voice. She’d heard it early that morning. Was this the male counterpart to the woman’s voice she’d been hearing all those nights? She felt faint movement behind her and then heard shuffling. It must have been the masked man. Had he been captured, too?

“What’s going on?” she stammered, staggering to her feet. Her question was lost in all the chaos however. Someone somewhere was still screaming in pain and the sound of metal against wood as Jira retrieved his belongings at incredibly breakneck speed swamped her timid voice. Her eyes began to adjust and she spotted the table riddled with her own belongings just as the masked man disappeared up the stares—followed by Cain, unbeknownst to her.

“H-hey!” she frowned, “W-wait!”

She quickly grabbed her things off the table. Sweeping the room, however, her eyes fell upon the injured man who was now groaning and beginning to lose consciousness. She bit her lip—not only was the man ‘in possession’ of her precious sword, but he also seemed to be in a great deal of pain… and at great risk of bleeding out. She glanced back to where the masked man had disappeared…. She knew where the graveyard was. She’d catch up. I’ll make it quick, she promised herself.

“Hold still,” she whispered to the man—who was pretty much out already. Setting her feet squarely on either side of the thief’s injured leg, she gripped the sword and yanked it out. Blood quickly started to rise out of the gaping hole left behind. She allowed her sword to clatter to the ground as she set to work, tearing a long strip of fabric from the man’s shirt.

If what the voice said was true and his friends would be there soon, this ought to hold him over until they got there and gave him more aid. She tied the fabric tightly around his leg, wiping her blood covered hands off on a clean part of the man’s pant leg before returning her bloodied sword to its hilt. She ran up the stairs and burst out the side of the building just before the tricksy pot salesman was about to push it open. She crashed into his shoulder, turning on her heel as she spun in an effort to maintain her momentum. “Excuse m--!” she gasped reflexively, but she choked on her words.

For the briefest moment the pair locked eyes and recognition was painted onto both of their faces in varying degrees. His eyes shifted from confusion to fury whilst hers shifted from an apologetic wince to a surprised look of fright. “Bye!” she whispered-- an attempt at being cocky and daring gone horribly wrong in the face of immanent danger. She ran full throttle into the crowd, ducking and diving between, over, and around members of the crowd until she was almost at the well. Catching her breath, she looked around for the masked man, but, not knowing he’d gone the other way out of shame, she saw no one. He couldn’t have made it to the graveyard already, could he?

Felicia lingered there, sweeping her eyes over the crowd for either the masked man or the angry pot salesman. She somehow doubted he could have followed her. Even if he could, he was likely in the middle of finding out how she’d escaped—thus he’d be quite preoccupied with the mess in the basement caused by…. She blinked. Just who had done that anyway? If it wasn’t the masked salesman… then who? The voice? She frowned and her forehead creased with concern.

How could a voice possibly do so much damage?

Unlike her partner, Frore was contributing nothing to the general search. Unable to really hold in mind the descriptions of those she was meant to be seeking, she paced around Kakariko taking in the sights, sounds, and smells now that she could better appreciate them. From booth to booth she drifted, looking at toys, weapons, crafts, and more with wide eyes. She was staring at a gaudy ranch booth whose bright colors had caught her attention when a mouth-watering smell drifted in from a nearby bakery stall. It her distraction she didn't notice a masked man approaching the Lon Lon Ranch stall, clutching his head in pain. Drawn by the unfamiliar and overpowering aroma, Frore made her way down the street to the shop in question. The vendor on hand, a potbellied black man whose round face was dominated by a huge, bristling silver mustache, smiled widely. “Welcome to Baroli Baked Goods! What can I interest you in? We've a wide variety of biscuits, cakes, and muffins...?”

He seemed somewhat taken aback by her lack of responsiveness. Usually at this point customers were opening their wallets or preparing to haggle. Frore, meanwhile, simply looked blankly at him. “Miss? Anything you hungry for?” At that, the pale woman reached for a small loaf that, while it had clearly been sitting around for a little while, remained aromatic and appetizing. Seriously beginning to question this lady's intelligence, the vendor held up a placating palm. “Now now, miss. You've gotta pay first. Have any money?” He dexterously plucked a green rupee from his register to show her. It glinted cheerily in the late morning sun, and Frore finally seemed to understand. She retracted the hand and fumbled around at her waist for a wallet. Baroli tried to ignore her exposed midriff, instead focusing on giving her encouraging nods when she looked up to see if he was getting upset. While not irritated, he was growing somewhat impatient, and finally decided in his good nature that this was a special case.

“Tell ya what, miss. In the spirit of the Hero of Time, who never hesitated to help out strangers, let me give it to ya for free. Go on, take it!” Slowly and deliberately, Frore placed a hand on the loaf of bread, incredulous to believe that someone would actually just give her something. As the picked up the food and inhaled its comforting smell, she attempted to return to him a smile: the corners of her mouth twitched upward slightly. Despite her failure, Baroli recognized the gesture, flashed her a warm smile in return, and gently waved her away so that the next customers -no doubt pleased by his generosity and charity- could have a go.

A few yards away from Baroli's Baked Goods stood the centerpiece of the plaza: a stony well. Seeing no better place to sit for a moment and try eating something for the first time. A few feet away from it, she was almost run into by a red-haired girl, who looked both out of breath and extremely agitated. Thinking nothing of it, Frore sat down with her back to the wall, tore out a chunk of the loaf of bread, and gingerly placed it in her mouth.

Instantly the sensation of taste enthralled her, and she realized that she was starving. With very unladylike voracity, she wolfed down the rest of the small loaf, barely even leaving any crumbs to scatter onto the ground.

Despite dragging his feet and taking his time travelling the roads Nil still managed to arrive at Karkiriko Village on the day of the Hero of Time festival. He stood looking at the village and waiting hoping that whatever was suppose to happen would happen quickly but when nothing happened he began to debate whether or not he should just leave wondering if the whisper would be angry at him for that. With a sigh he made the decision to go into the town if only for a bit upon entering was assaulted by the smells and the noise from the festival where he had gotten used to the quiet calm of the roads. He wander around for a moment looking at all the different stalls with all their wares, some of which he wished he could get. continuing on, Nil traveled to the center of town and decided to rest and wait there taking a seat on a box resting beside a building.

Pulling out a pad of paper and various sizes of charcoal pencils he looked around memorizing the buildings and stalls to begin doing rough sketches of them. He then looked up the sky and then the people enjoying the festival looking for a subject to focus on, he then saw a woman careening through the crowd opposite him coming almost to the well and stop looking afraid. Nil saw her and with a hesitant smile figured that he would at once keep an eye on her should she need help and draw her at the same time as the subject of his drawing.

And so focusing on her and radiating around her, Nil began to sketch her and her worry and then the stark contrast of the people around her, children running around their parents following talking and laughing, a tall woman ravishing her food in excitement, vendors crying out to people to browse, and guards ever watching the people but relaxed even now during the festival.

“Just get a move on you two,” she flew into the side of Magus’ head, giving him a small but proper shove towards the graveyard’s gate—her statement obviously directed at him more so than Vei, “I already told you I’m on a tight schedule. Hurry up! Go! Both of you!"

As Lethe started to dart towards the pair, Vei jumped forward with a slightly panicked look and scampered off, likely not wanting to be the target of the Fairy's ire once more for fear of similar results. Ruling by fear was an interesting tactic when the physical size difference was so drastic.

Veitaru's search was not horribly successful however, as her motivation was more escape crazy fairy lady and less do what she said.

She spotted Mila once in passing, but by chance didn't have line of sight to her fairy as well, and not having a clue what a kokiri was, just moved right a long, mainly running around on the foolish errand of trying to find a fairy, ending up at a variety of colored lanterns.

A heavy boot sunk into what had initially appeared to be a regularly muddy section of the dirt road leading to Kakariko Village, the sensation disregarded for a moment until the putrid aroma of horse dung filled the air, causing the boot’s occupant to utter a curse so foul that a mother had to cover her child’s ears to protect their presumed innocence. Whether it was a boy or girl was impossible to decipher; all humans looked alike in their adolescence, with horrible high voices better suited to the damnable tree folk than a race that had conquered most of the lands with their mighty armies. To complete the illusion that all children looked the same was the fact that every single one of them were dressed in green or like the Great Bane, the so-called Hero of Time.

Not for the first time, Maryev decided he hated these lands and the people in them, and was wondering if their influence was having an adverse effect on his mental facilities. After all, was it that voice that permeated his mind and roused him from his sleep was the reason he was convinced to march to Kakariko Village while this horrific festival honouring a glorified Inquisitor and assassin that represented the subjugation of anyone who did not bend a knee to a royal family that claimed to speak for their Goddesses and some of the superstitious mongrels, many doubtless running amok in the squalid hamlet in their infuriating greens and aimlessly waving their shoddy toys around with the proficiency of actual Hyrulian soldiers, believed that their Princess was a deity of sorts, reincarnated time and time again with their beloved Inquisitor.

Not for the first time, Maryev vividly imagined leading a Legion of his finest warriors into the flimsy gates of the city, a wall of disciplined swords and armour laying waste to all living things more thoroughly than a forest fire. From behind his helm, the Darknut allowed himself a slight upturn of the lips as a reward for his morbidity. The slow pondering child waddling in front of him, somehow having eluded the horse dropping that had claimed Maryev’s patience, was either oblivious to the towering man behind him or thinking him to be a delightful part of the festivities, a costume for the Inquisitor to vanquish like the rest of Ganon’s armies to reassure these peasants that they’d survive a coming storm by the Gerudo King.

Perhaps that was why he came to this village; the slim chance that Ganon himself would return to strike down his enemies and give Maryev a worthy cause. The King had always been a champion to the Darknut people, and they had always answered his call; the Hyrulians and the other races, like the imbed Goron tribes, the squawking Deku, and the pompous and frail Zorra, had claimed Ganon a great evil, decrying his liberations of the realms and his representation of the oppressed and needlessly slain races as the hypocrites failed to see how anything that didn’t cry fealty to an oppressive monarchy with a rule that spanned countless generations could possibly have cultures of their own and causes to fight for. They never seemed to question why races like the Darknut, Gerudo, Lizalfos, and moblins continuously rallied behind Ganon each time he returned. He was a liberator, a champion to those beset upon by all sides by an increasingly hungry King who wanted more and more. Maryev had spent many years watching the encroachment on the notoriously independent Gerudo Tribes by the Hyrulians, overtures of peace and trade undermining their sovereignty. Did tradition mean nothing to those women? Were they so blind as to miss the true intentions of their ancient enemy?

I’m surrounded by fools. Maryev thought begrudgingly. Not for the first time, he imagined Ganon’s fabled bestial form eating the child in front of him.

Suddenly, the scent of grilled meat filled Maryev’s nostrils, his despair briefly forgotten as what he suspected was the true reason for his coming here came to light. His stomach growled in protest like a wolfos who had not caught sight of prey for several days as he sought the likely greasy and gamey meat, something that brought Maryev a warm hopeful sensation not unlike spotting a wave of reinforcements on the horizon. His eyes caught sight of the roasting pit, all pretense of politeness evaporated.

“Move.” Maryev’s voice boomed from behind the child, his massive frame brushing into the child like a boulder, knocking the boy… girl? Into the muck. He did not turn back to listen to the cries of indignation from the mother or listen to the shrill shrieks of the wailing child, whom Maryev imagined found itself in a pile of dung of its own. He would have allowed himself a smile, but his prize was too near. The crowds parted easily at his coming.

After all, there were few forces in Hyrule as terrifying as a Darknut on the warpath. Or, in this case, in pursuit of supper.

Her words came to him with what seemed to be jest and self-righteous projection of the Goddesses, but at least it was not out of malice or condescending superiority as he could had faced a far graver fate at their hands if they so choose. Considering the task that he was given, he thought for a moment and began to think of his target and what object that would be of value to the fairy lady.

Madame Astrid… I remember that name… a wench and con, too rotten for even an honest plunder of a bandit raid. Worst still, it her tongue is like silver to the guards that if I dare make a move against her. My safest bet would be to intimidate her and be quick about it so that I do not place a blade against her flapping gums to speak against me.

He started to move back to the gate of the graveyard and leaned upon the frame as he looked at the fairy again before he made the decision to search out whatever she desired. Making sure all his belongings were in place, he took a moment to wonder about the shadow of his former master that would haunt the catacombs under the village, as he worried what would he use if he were able to summon the dead from their rest.

"I cannot think of anything why the Goddesses would name me such a trite title for me, unless there was good reason. But now that matter is resolved, what is it that you request from that fraud, Madame Astrid? I can get you what you wish, but I will not draw blood on my fellow tribe, nor will I risk making myself an embarrassment unless there is a worthy reward on my part. In return, I tell you to keep watch over the entrance of the Shadow Temple; for my former master might have dark deeds his conjuring within the catacombs for no one is allowed to pass the entrance from either side.”

In short, he wanted no one to go in, or any of the souls that were housed within to come out.

Ekra listened to the blacksmith intently, the crowds dying to a buzz that barely lingered in her ears. If nothing else, the man sounded confident that he knew what he was talking about. Granted, that wasn't uncommon among merchants - Ekra had seen many bluffs on the trails through the Lost Woods, people hoping to intimidate or cajole the local skull kids into leaving them and their items alone. Rarely worked, of course, but this guy wasn't bluffing at least. He seemed to mean every word he said. As a bonus, he treated her as an actual customer: no question about her size or possible age, took her sleight of hand in good humor, and didn't talk down to her. Already she liked him and hoped four rupees were sufficient to pay.

The terms were a bit confusing for someone who only had ever seen carving and other woodworking methods, but she nodded all the same as he gave his explanation. She supposed forging was like whittling. The blade looked as smooth as creations by particularly talented Deku scrubs, at least. Mining... well, metal came from underground and, at his mention of harvesting, she imagined seed pods dropping down metal when cracked. Though she knew it was impossible, she smiled at the idea that metal came from seeds that never sprouted. And then... well, did he mean melted? That was a term she knew; she'd seen frozen blocks defrosted by heat and fire, so she had an idea of what it meant. The metal was made liquid by heat. Her gaze shifted from the blade she held to her fingers. Even if skull kids weren't actual plant beings, they were no less prone to warping and blistering under fire.

There was a moment where the crowd came back into focus - people shuffling aside, making way for someone else who Ekra had no knowledge about and currently no interest in - and faded just as quickly as the blacksmith told her about the knife itself. She'd never actually thrown a knife before. People had thrown daggers and swords in the past, with varying degrees of success (the worst being one who had missed so badly that the offending skull kid literally dropped out of his tree with laughter). The idea that a knife could be specifically made for throwing was new. On the other hand, she'd never tried throwing anything beyond Deku nuts, and the throwing knife she held was considerably larger. She leaned in closer, watching the movements through her mask as best as she could. She tried to mimic them, but she couldn't seem to quite get the wrist right. Probably due to inexperience. As neat as the knives were, if nothing happened at the festival, maybe it'd be best to drop them back off with the blacksmith before she went back home.

Then, the blacksmith did something unexpected: he offered her the knives for free. Her eyes widened and her beak dropped. Merchants giving away things... was not totally unheard of, but certainly rare enough even for common things like seeds and darts. Full weaponry, that was probably a whole different ballpark. She gingerly reached for the three other knives. And all she had to was promise to use them for good? ...like, not throw them at plain ol' wandering travelers? That part was easy, it wasn't much of a trick if the target was dead or badly hurt. She knew metal weapons could do that far more easily than Deku seeds could.

"I promise, mister!" Her voice came out slightly squeaky in her excitement, her hand still visible on the counter. Forging - it was something she'd have to consider, given her nature... which, actually, if he looked down at her hand right now, would be plain to see. Right. Skull kid in a town. She collected the throwing knives, face suddenly looking to the ground. "Thanks a ton, mister." The squeak was gone as she bagged the knives and fumbled for her wallet. Even if they were meant as a gift, well, it still seemed rude to not give anything at all. It was how merchants worked, she'd been told.

Angus nodded as she took the knives, he looked to her hands and raised an eyebrow a little seeing the peculiar fingers he thought for a little while about the stories he'd heard about wooden people out in the lost woods, he'd met a few Kokori in his travels and they'd spoken of these people known as 'Skull kids'. Another smile crept over his face as he realised that this girl must be one of them, that would also explain why she didn't know about forging. He didn't say anything about it, it didn't matter to him, she seemed nice and that was all that really mattered right?

He was about to tell her to put the wallet away when he noticed the scene on a nearby stall, while he paid no attention to the figure's approach he did see them push a child over and that was something the smith could not stand for. His face dropped from a smile to a stern frown. "Watch my stand would ya'?" He asked, turning his gaze to the hooded person before cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck over his shoulders. Angus grabbed the remaining claymore that lay resting against the table and easily lifted it up and slinging it over his shoulder, he didn't intend to use it at all but he thought it would help to intimidate the slightly taller figure who from behind looked to be human. He strode over to the child who lay crying in the dirt and offered them a hand up, he then gently ushered the mother forward and continued up to the Darknut. "Hey buddy," He said, his deep turning deeper and more aggravated than it had been while running the stall as he reached out to grab the figure's shoulder. "what exactly gives you the right to stroll into my home town and pull this sort of stunt, huh?"

As usual, Cain's observation of his host was keen and relentless, leaving no detail untouched. Truly, he loathed speedily poring over every inch of every person he encountered -in the World of Light, everyone was so boring but he had decided long ago that knowledge outweighed grudge. This particular examination turned up an interesting note: when Jira attempted to speak in prose, he was suddenly wracked by some inner convulsion. While this didn't really mean anything yet, it further expounded upon his weakness.

At least this weakling was content to repay the Twili for saving his life and livelihood. What he said concerning the red-haired merchant girl, however, perturbed him. As Jira approached Matt's stall, Cain decided he couldn't resist being pedantic. “You cannot run from your problems or your feelings,” he chided from the masked man's shadow. “For better or worse the girl is involved; are you going to let her face the odds alone? The only way to be sure something you want is never lost is to grab hold and cling tight. Trust me. And come to the graveyard after you've collected your merchandise, though where you're going you're not going to need any extra baggage to carry around.”

Feeling that the so-called Rain Spider would honor his request, Cain decided that before he returned he had better find Felicia and make sure that she, too, was on her way. With luck he might even be able to snag another sucker. Slithering from shadow to shadow across the ground like a dark flatworm, he searched the crowds from below. Thoughts were inevitably shifting to lunch, and he was aware of many festival-goers clumping together to find a place to eat en masse. From among their feet he could see it all. The eager, joyful faces, the loving couples and families, those playing games or simply talking. So like them it was, the perfect, chosen races of the cruel Goddesses, taking for granted the blessings heaped upon them. In Twilight there were no happy, warm rays of sun, or birds singing in the trees, or endless green fields on which to frolic. Life wasn't a celebration; it was a fight to survive. These people had some hardship to face, certainly, but under their Goddesses' protection their only real threats were the legendary incursions of the evil king. Cain and his people were denied this paradise, doomed to waste away if exposed to it as anything more than shadows.

He halted momentarily, cast upon the side of a bustling bakery stall, and cleansed his thoughts of their bitterness. The thoughts he had were the thoughts of his most hated enemy, the one that had taken his Princess away. The only differences between the usurper and the spy were love and duty. Yet they were enough.

Still, it put Cain in a sour mood to see others so happy. Only too eager to see the last of the festival, he hastened his search, now looking only for Felicia. Surprisingly, he found her almost instantly, not too far from a nearby well. What interested him more, however, was the stick-thin giant of a woman leaning against said well, just cleaning off the last of a loaf of bread. Cain supposed that he had to give Frore credit; he was unerringly loyal, if not unerringly obedient. The Twili transferred himself to her shadow gently, and she paused, aware of the familiar presence.

“You must stop wandering off, my dear.” Though he had never addressed Frore as such before, it seemed oddly fitting now. “Did anyone give you trouble?”

Frore shook her head, pale blue eyes fixated upon the darkness she cast, searching for the entity hidden inside. “No, Cain. A man gave me food. Icicle...got smaller.” She prodded the collapsed spear resting on the ground beside her, gleaming in the morning sun. Her tone was totally blank, softly sounding out each syllable. She seemed to have been thinking; that was new. Then again, so was being around so many people. “Cain, you are...my...?”

Wondering where exactly this was going, the spymaster interjected. “Your friend. Your only friend too, so we've got to stick together. Let's go now, eh?”

Slowly, the transfigured Chilfos nodded. “Yes. Friend.”

Rather than heading straight back to the cemetery, however, Cain made sure that his partner was headed in that direction before he stealthily abandoned her, backtracking until he found Felicia, still by the well, though she seemed to have settled somewhat emotionally by now. “Come,” he beckoned her from her shadow. “We're gathered at the graveyard now. There's a fairy there who speaks in dreams. Believe me, she's even more irritating in person. I realize that this whole situation seems somewhat mad, but I do hope you'll give trusting me a chance.”

He stalled a moment to hear her response, wanting to get back to Frore.

Nodding his head to Lethe polite, Magus simply said "If you need me, just ask." before wandering over towards the 'entrance' to the Shadow Temple.

Finding himself a steady looking surface to lean against (In this case, an old tombstone) the robed and hooded Magus sat down and rested against it, making himself comfortable before simply relaxing himself and taking the chance to have a bit of rest. Much like a puppet with its strings cut Magus didn't move in the slightest as he rested, being as still and seemingly lifeless as the one who was buried under the stone he was resting against.

As Magus approached the steep precipice, overlooked by the Shadow Temple and tall wooden palisades, a spell of sagacity would quickly overwhelm him. The temple practically radiated with misfortune and doom—elements one normally didn’t sense yet somehow they seemed to tangibly pollute the air.

An unnatural wind jostled the undressing branches of the trees that crowded the area surrounding the place. The reason no guards were ever stationed outside its walls went hand in hand with the reason people rarely ever ventured within a few feet of the Shadow Temple. It was excruciatingly clear why. Some inexplicable force naturally seemed to be acting as a deterrent and Magus could feel it pushing at his mind and persuading him to keep his distance. Nonetheless, he had a clear reason for being there and would soon feel the headache-inducing force fade before long.

---

Felicia traced the swirling pattern of her thumbprint with her eyes. Repressing a sigh, she pushed against the malleable caramel of the candied apple once again, trying her best smooth out the nicks that had resulted from her three-minute escapade. Sitting on the opposite edge of the well from the pale, peculiar woman, she entertained the idea of heading home early. If she hurried she could probably do a small bit of fishing before she lost the light. Then again, even that brought her little solace nowadays. The water was nearly as dead as she was….

“Come.”

Felicia jumped. The poor, derelict apple rolled out of her hands and onto the leafy ground. She lunged after it, clumsily falling to her knees as she tried to retrieve it before it rolled too far, collecting bits of leaves as it went.

“We're gathered at the graveyard now. There's a fairy there who speaks in dreams. Believe me, she's even more irritating in person. I realize that this whole situation seems somewhat mad, but I do hope you'll give trusting me a chance.”

“G-give you a trusting chance?” she stammered, exasperated as she stood up, apple in hand, “I don’t even know who—“ her voice fell to a whisper as a crowd goer raised an eyebrow in her direction, “or what you are!”

Felicia, you’re going crazy. Your sister warned you, didn’t she? Your unhealthy habits have finally sent you to the edge of mental ruin. Tomorrow you’ll be dragged away shouting at nothing…. She collapsed into her self, releasing a defeated breath.

“Can’t you bother someone else please?” she brushed a few strands of her strawberry blonde hair away from her eyes, “Or at least stop sneaking up on me.”

She mumbled the last bit, not really expecting a response. So far the voice seemed to just come and go as it pleased. Why should this instance be any different? She miserably peeled crushed autumn leaves away out of the apple’s caramel coating, looking exhausted and annoyed with herself.