Ganondork
goo
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2010
Greetings everyone, Ganondork here. This week, we've received three entries - the most we've had in a while. This shows promise for the continuation of this competition. As it stands now, I don't think we'll be able to put the winner of the competition on the front page. David said he'll ask bring it back up, but I honestly don't see it really happening.
Anyway, we have received three entries - GaroXicon, Thareous and myself. Good luck to the three of us.
Thareous
Divine Bystander
High above in the sky a noonday sun stared down upon the bustling streets of Castle Town with its single radiant eye. The town's inhabitants raced to and fro: children chased each other, women conversed on the sidewalks, men moved quickly back to their jobs as the crowd's pace would allow...and a lone figure stood on the steps leading up to a fountain. A hood covered her head, and a cloth hid the rest of her face below the nose, leaving only blue eyes to gaze out. She was too regal to be seen, and too heavenly to be named. Yet how she longed for these people to know of her...
Long ago, in a different form, she had presided over the forbears of Hyrule's denizens. Then a great evil had arisen and lashed out at them, and she helped the people of that era avoid extermination. Only by setting certain precautions the evil was later vanquished, and peace with it was restored upon the land that in her current body she now ruled.
These memories filled her with sadness intertwined by threads of gratitude. The figure looked behind her and averted her pensive gaze to the fountain behind her. A statue towered above her, dutiful and custodial, like a sentry regarding all with concern. Water gushed from the stone for its base, spilling into the pool below. On the effigy's left arm was a broad shield, and in his right hand a sword that it constantly held skyward. Its expression bore a challenging posture, as if forcing fear into those facing it. This was a monument of the Hero whom she had preordained to go against the adversary of the old land. Although cruel to situate a mere youth to this fate, she did it to protect these people--her people, Hylians--and was gratified that the Hero had triumphed.
Feeling content, she turned back and started down the stairs. Even as Princess of Hyrule her duties were no fewer than the king's. Yet she made infrequent visits to the castle square to watch over her people. Though most had forgotten her name, they still remembered the deeds of those who imperiled their lives to ensure that adversity was overturned, and that brought her greater joy, for all existed without apprehension of harm. At least in that time.
GaroXicon
Law
Dry. That was what Taro remembered most about the canyon. Even with a thinly trickling river at the base of the cliff wall, the air was completely lacking all moisture. The constant thirst, Geron's constant panting, and epidemic lethargy gripped Ikana Kingdom tightly, and slowly but surely squeezed the life from their bodies.
Everybody else may have been content to ignore the obvious cause of their strife, but Taro saw it, and silently condemned those responsible. It was hard not to see it; the giant tower looming overhead at all times cast a shadow on the land that did little to alleviate the burning heat. A twisted mockery of the goddesses, the Tower was the source of their suffering. Taro wondered how everybody could be so oblivious.
"You're just superstitious," Geron would always say, "the goddesses are just myths." Had the Tower made them so arrogant that they could forget their history? He knew that this, at least, was not the Tower's fault. No, that fault belong to another.
Igos. The foolish king who ordered the Tower's construction those many years ago had sucked the soul out of the land. What it had brought to the land - unnatural life - had not outweighed what it took from the land. Taro felt this, but knew the others didn't.
"Geron, surely you must see the folly here. Igos has no idea how to lead our people. That damned Tower has brought torment down upon this land. Do you not remember the green fields we used to walk?"
Geron paused for a moment. "I do remember them, Taro, but that was a lifetime ago. Do you wish to be dead right now? The Tower has allowed us to live, in defiance of our so-called 'makers'."
"This is not living. We are walking corpses. When is the last time we ever felt quenched? It's been a lifetime at least. I'm tired of being parched, Geron." Taro looked his friend directly in the eyes. "You know what I mean to do."
"I do, and it's equally folly. Just accept this as the way things are, Taro."
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
Geron sighed. "Yes, I do. And I suppose I will support you, Taro. I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."
* * * * * * *
The Great Castle of Ikana loomed over head as Taro and Geron stealthily sidled along the side of the castle. Each crawling into a window on separate wings of the castle, they dispatched several guards on their way to the antechamber. These guards were innocent; it was Igos and his cronies that had to die.
They moved into the antechamber, each with a pair of thin swords, the hilts of which were enclosed beneath long flowing robes. As they barged into the throne chamber, they were thrust into darkness. The windows were covered. Silently they walked forward, and seeing Igos' servants through the veil of shadow, thrust their blades through their chests, and quickly moved on. They were feet away from Igos when, suddenly, the coverings on the window blew off, filling the room with light.
In a flash of steel, Igos stood and swung in a swift motion, and made contact with Geron's head. Rolling across the floor, it stopped with a mundane finality as it hit Taro's feet. A brief stunned silence overcame Taro, before he quickly sprung into action. Shoving his twin blades in the nearby braziers, he attacked the folly King with flame and steel. Igos was dead before he hit the ground.
Staring at Geron's dead body, Taro knew that his victory was a hollow one. He felt as parched as ever, and knew that he was still a walking corpse. He walked to Igos' body, and tore the crown from his head. He perched the golden helmet on his head as a mask, and pulled a bomb from within his cloak, lighting it with his still burning sword.
"To die, and leave no corpse." He closed his eyes. "My dying wish. The law of the Garo."
Ganondork
Failure
“Failure,” a voice said. “Failure,” it repeated. Emerging out of the shadows of the destroyed town, a hunched figure appeared. He wore a heavy backpack filled with masks. His eyes were squinting, despite the fact that the sun was covered by clouds. He overlooked the town; the enormous Moon where the Clock Tower once was. “Failure,” he said for the third time, dismay evident.
The town was destroyed beyond recognition; the Moon was the culprit. Despite its smaller size, it had caught fire when crashing down, burning anything that didn’t receive direct impact. Corpses littered the square, blackened, and yet carefully preserved. The Happy Mask Salesman looked down upon an older woman, a child in her charred arms.
“Why has the Hero failed?” The Salesman asked, picking up the child. He cradled it in his arms as he continued, “Have I chosen the wrong man for this quest? Was this all my fault, am I the reason why Termina has been destroyed?” Forgetting about the child, he dropped it carelessly.
“How could this have happened?” He asked with his head in his hands. He sighed and pulled a mask out of his backpack. The mask appeared to be a man, his face portraying fear, his mouth in a perpetual scream. “What did I do wrong?” He lamented. “Did I do something to deserve this?” He asked the mask. He moved his hand back and forth, giving the mask the appearance of shaking his head. “No, I didn’t think so.”
Finally composing himself, he looked forward, his mind wandering to a different time. “I remember when I was younger,” he began. “It was so many years ago. I lived in a tribe. A glorious tribe,” he said to the mask. “Once a year we would perform rituals using a mask – oh I’m sure you are all well acquainted with this particular mask.” He held the mask up; its face was dark and filled with grief. “Majora’s Mask,” he whispered in a hushed tone. The mask seemed to darken. “You remember it. How sad,” he said.
“One day, one of the tribe members decided to wear the mask. This was forbidden, you see. We were always told that its powers were beyond our own comprehension, but he didn’t listen. And as you can imagine, something similar to this happened,” he gestured towards the scene of the town. “But you already know that,” he said, speaking to the mask in his hand. “You were there, and all I could do was make you into a mask,” he continued, regret in his voice. “So much grief over all of this – over what you did – and the tribe decided that we should all part ways forever.”
“I’ve always resented you for this,” he continued, speaking to the mask. “I was truly happy, but now I can’t ever feel like that again; I live in a sad world now.” The Happy Mask Salesman walked towards the Moon, still holding the mask. A hand was outstretched, the only thing that the Moon did not crush on the Hero of Time. In his hand was the Ocarina of Time.
“Now I know why I decided to use you for this job; you remind me of him. Of what he was before he ruined my life, before he wore that accursed mask. Come now, Link,” he said, taking the Ocarina from his hands. “You will not fail; we will repeat this until you succeed.” He blew into the Ocarina, beginning the melody of the Song of Time. “You have all the time in the world.”
Don't forget to comment. Tell us what you think of each story, what you liked, and maybe what you disliked. Any critique will be greatly appreciated.
With this week over, it's time for next week's topic:
Majora
This is open for interpretation. It can vary from his origin, the final battle, or anywhere in between. Be creative with this one!
The word limit is 400 words. I don't foresee it requiring very much words, but please notify me if it does go over. I will usually forgive it for going a little bit over - over 100 words is a bit of a problem. This will be due 2/12/12. Have a great day.
Anyway, we have received three entries - GaroXicon, Thareous and myself. Good luck to the three of us.
Thareous
Divine Bystander
High above in the sky a noonday sun stared down upon the bustling streets of Castle Town with its single radiant eye. The town's inhabitants raced to and fro: children chased each other, women conversed on the sidewalks, men moved quickly back to their jobs as the crowd's pace would allow...and a lone figure stood on the steps leading up to a fountain. A hood covered her head, and a cloth hid the rest of her face below the nose, leaving only blue eyes to gaze out. She was too regal to be seen, and too heavenly to be named. Yet how she longed for these people to know of her...
Long ago, in a different form, she had presided over the forbears of Hyrule's denizens. Then a great evil had arisen and lashed out at them, and she helped the people of that era avoid extermination. Only by setting certain precautions the evil was later vanquished, and peace with it was restored upon the land that in her current body she now ruled.
These memories filled her with sadness intertwined by threads of gratitude. The figure looked behind her and averted her pensive gaze to the fountain behind her. A statue towered above her, dutiful and custodial, like a sentry regarding all with concern. Water gushed from the stone for its base, spilling into the pool below. On the effigy's left arm was a broad shield, and in his right hand a sword that it constantly held skyward. Its expression bore a challenging posture, as if forcing fear into those facing it. This was a monument of the Hero whom she had preordained to go against the adversary of the old land. Although cruel to situate a mere youth to this fate, she did it to protect these people--her people, Hylians--and was gratified that the Hero had triumphed.
Feeling content, she turned back and started down the stairs. Even as Princess of Hyrule her duties were no fewer than the king's. Yet she made infrequent visits to the castle square to watch over her people. Though most had forgotten her name, they still remembered the deeds of those who imperiled their lives to ensure that adversity was overturned, and that brought her greater joy, for all existed without apprehension of harm. At least in that time.
GaroXicon
Law
Dry. That was what Taro remembered most about the canyon. Even with a thinly trickling river at the base of the cliff wall, the air was completely lacking all moisture. The constant thirst, Geron's constant panting, and epidemic lethargy gripped Ikana Kingdom tightly, and slowly but surely squeezed the life from their bodies.
Everybody else may have been content to ignore the obvious cause of their strife, but Taro saw it, and silently condemned those responsible. It was hard not to see it; the giant tower looming overhead at all times cast a shadow on the land that did little to alleviate the burning heat. A twisted mockery of the goddesses, the Tower was the source of their suffering. Taro wondered how everybody could be so oblivious.
"You're just superstitious," Geron would always say, "the goddesses are just myths." Had the Tower made them so arrogant that they could forget their history? He knew that this, at least, was not the Tower's fault. No, that fault belong to another.
Igos. The foolish king who ordered the Tower's construction those many years ago had sucked the soul out of the land. What it had brought to the land - unnatural life - had not outweighed what it took from the land. Taro felt this, but knew the others didn't.
"Geron, surely you must see the folly here. Igos has no idea how to lead our people. That damned Tower has brought torment down upon this land. Do you not remember the green fields we used to walk?"
Geron paused for a moment. "I do remember them, Taro, but that was a lifetime ago. Do you wish to be dead right now? The Tower has allowed us to live, in defiance of our so-called 'makers'."
"This is not living. We are walking corpses. When is the last time we ever felt quenched? It's been a lifetime at least. I'm tired of being parched, Geron." Taro looked his friend directly in the eyes. "You know what I mean to do."
"I do, and it's equally folly. Just accept this as the way things are, Taro."
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
Geron sighed. "Yes, I do. And I suppose I will support you, Taro. I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."
* * * * * * *
The Great Castle of Ikana loomed over head as Taro and Geron stealthily sidled along the side of the castle. Each crawling into a window on separate wings of the castle, they dispatched several guards on their way to the antechamber. These guards were innocent; it was Igos and his cronies that had to die.
They moved into the antechamber, each with a pair of thin swords, the hilts of which were enclosed beneath long flowing robes. As they barged into the throne chamber, they were thrust into darkness. The windows were covered. Silently they walked forward, and seeing Igos' servants through the veil of shadow, thrust their blades through their chests, and quickly moved on. They were feet away from Igos when, suddenly, the coverings on the window blew off, filling the room with light.
In a flash of steel, Igos stood and swung in a swift motion, and made contact with Geron's head. Rolling across the floor, it stopped with a mundane finality as it hit Taro's feet. A brief stunned silence overcame Taro, before he quickly sprung into action. Shoving his twin blades in the nearby braziers, he attacked the folly King with flame and steel. Igos was dead before he hit the ground.
Staring at Geron's dead body, Taro knew that his victory was a hollow one. He felt as parched as ever, and knew that he was still a walking corpse. He walked to Igos' body, and tore the crown from his head. He perched the golden helmet on his head as a mask, and pulled a bomb from within his cloak, lighting it with his still burning sword.
"To die, and leave no corpse." He closed his eyes. "My dying wish. The law of the Garo."
Ganondork
Failure
“Failure,” a voice said. “Failure,” it repeated. Emerging out of the shadows of the destroyed town, a hunched figure appeared. He wore a heavy backpack filled with masks. His eyes were squinting, despite the fact that the sun was covered by clouds. He overlooked the town; the enormous Moon where the Clock Tower once was. “Failure,” he said for the third time, dismay evident.
The town was destroyed beyond recognition; the Moon was the culprit. Despite its smaller size, it had caught fire when crashing down, burning anything that didn’t receive direct impact. Corpses littered the square, blackened, and yet carefully preserved. The Happy Mask Salesman looked down upon an older woman, a child in her charred arms.
“Why has the Hero failed?” The Salesman asked, picking up the child. He cradled it in his arms as he continued, “Have I chosen the wrong man for this quest? Was this all my fault, am I the reason why Termina has been destroyed?” Forgetting about the child, he dropped it carelessly.
“How could this have happened?” He asked with his head in his hands. He sighed and pulled a mask out of his backpack. The mask appeared to be a man, his face portraying fear, his mouth in a perpetual scream. “What did I do wrong?” He lamented. “Did I do something to deserve this?” He asked the mask. He moved his hand back and forth, giving the mask the appearance of shaking his head. “No, I didn’t think so.”
Finally composing himself, he looked forward, his mind wandering to a different time. “I remember when I was younger,” he began. “It was so many years ago. I lived in a tribe. A glorious tribe,” he said to the mask. “Once a year we would perform rituals using a mask – oh I’m sure you are all well acquainted with this particular mask.” He held the mask up; its face was dark and filled with grief. “Majora’s Mask,” he whispered in a hushed tone. The mask seemed to darken. “You remember it. How sad,” he said.
“One day, one of the tribe members decided to wear the mask. This was forbidden, you see. We were always told that its powers were beyond our own comprehension, but he didn’t listen. And as you can imagine, something similar to this happened,” he gestured towards the scene of the town. “But you already know that,” he said, speaking to the mask in his hand. “You were there, and all I could do was make you into a mask,” he continued, regret in his voice. “So much grief over all of this – over what you did – and the tribe decided that we should all part ways forever.”
“I’ve always resented you for this,” he continued, speaking to the mask. “I was truly happy, but now I can’t ever feel like that again; I live in a sad world now.” The Happy Mask Salesman walked towards the Moon, still holding the mask. A hand was outstretched, the only thing that the Moon did not crush on the Hero of Time. In his hand was the Ocarina of Time.
“Now I know why I decided to use you for this job; you remind me of him. Of what he was before he ruined my life, before he wore that accursed mask. Come now, Link,” he said, taking the Ocarina from his hands. “You will not fail; we will repeat this until you succeed.” He blew into the Ocarina, beginning the melody of the Song of Time. “You have all the time in the world.”
***
Don't forget to comment. Tell us what you think of each story, what you liked, and maybe what you disliked. Any critique will be greatly appreciated.
With this week over, it's time for next week's topic:
Majora
This is open for interpretation. It can vary from his origin, the final battle, or anywhere in between. Be creative with this one!
The word limit is 400 words. I don't foresee it requiring very much words, but please notify me if it does go over. I will usually forgive it for going a little bit over - over 100 words is a bit of a problem. This will be due 2/12/12. Have a great day.
