Fellowship of the Spring

The province in the extreme northeast part of Hyrule includes the Akkala Highlands, Akkala Sea and Deep Akkala regions.
Post Reply
User avatar
Pillar
Posts: 145
Joined: Sun Aug 09, 2020 8:06 pm
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Fellowship of the Spring

#1

Post by Pillar »

Fellowship of the Spring
1st of Seed Moon, 9990th, Akkala, Ukuku Plains


The group had been traveling for weeks, following this accursed map. The map was leading them to the Ulria Grotto in the Akkala region. None of the group knew much about the place nor had ever been there. It wasn’t too terribly far and honestly they could have made much better timing if they were anything but the ragtag group they were. None of them were particularly skilled when it came to speed and they also were just naturally slow. Robin had his illness holding him back, Boblin was a large monster race and frequently scared passerby on the road, and Fenn was dealing with the effects of having to hold onto the cursed map itself. It was very draining to the healer, and he often wanted to just curl up into a ball and sleep the day away. They found a way to deal with Fenn though -- if someone were to carry him, they could move and the effects of the map didn’t seem to transfer through the contact. So, whenever Fenn was feeling particularly dizzy or the pounding headache was just too much, he got a first class ride perched on a certain Moblin’s arms.

Though their progress was slow, they were very thankful to their magical companion. Robin, due to his connection to the ARI and his own wit, was able to figure out the map hadn’t actually been written in another language, but was actually written in code. With some help, he was able to decipher the few words written on it: Healing Spring.

This was obviously a very interesting turn of events. There were many rumors of magical ponds with healing properties, some saying they were created by fairies, or perhaps by very strong magicians of old. Then there was the fact that the map itself was cursed. Fenn thought perhaps that if this pond really did heal, it could be a way to keep others from exploiting it.

Then, there was the fact that it had some connection to his father. Fenn wasn’t one to talk much about himself, and this was something that he didn’t voluntarily give up. The matching symbol on the map and Fenn’s satchel was something that he only ruminated on himself.

The group had just crossed over the East Sokkala Bridge, their destination just over the high hill. Though Robin couldn’t touch the map, Fenn had shoved off the duty to guide them to the young mage. Fenn was currently squinting at the map before he shook his head from his position in the Moblin’s arms and held the map out so that Robin could take a look at it.

“Are we there yet?” Fenn nearly whined. The constant throbbing and ringing in his ears had turned him into a less than hospitable companion. Though he normally wasn’t a very emotional being, he was snapping at them quite a bit and taking heavy advantage of Bob’s kindness.

“Booob… I’m thirsty.”
Zain
Posts: 69
Joined: Sun Mar 01, 2020 3:42 pm
Location: In My Own Madness
Pronouns: He/Him/His

Re: Fellowship of the Spring

#2

Post by Zain »

Robin never thought that he'd ever be done with a library, but searching nearly every Nayru-be-damned volume in the Ancient Research Institute's vast atheneum had certainly tested his near infinite patience for such analysis. Fueled solely by stamella shroom elixirs that made his eyelids twitch in a manner that had drawn quite a few odd looks for a day and night, the magician had, by some inane stroke of luck, been able to piece together an intelligible message - which, naturally, pointed to a grotto on the south eastern side of the blastedcontinent. Any interest he had in the cryptic message and what it entailed was somewhat blunted by virtue of how tired he was.

And before someone asked, no, he wasn't delirious from staying up for a few nights on end, and no, he certainly was not irritable in the slightest, where would one get that idea?

Thankfully, the delightfully salty tang of the seaside air worked wonders to ease Robin's nerves despite the rather slow pace at which they traveled. Ignoring one of many trivial complaints expressed by Fenn, Robin pointed to the rise up ahead which they now approached, one of the cliffs that surrounded the spring and Ulria Grotto.

The crashing of waves against the rock-strewn Akkala coast and gentle breeze meant that Robin had to raise his voice to be heard clearly by the other two.

"We're nearly there; it's just over that hill!"
User avatar
FireflyBlink
Posts: 48
Joined: Sun Jan 13, 2019 12:31 am
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Re: Fellowship of the Spring

#3

Post by FireflyBlink »

Riva… didn’t like the sun. It was too bright and made water sparkle in that blinding way. It also tended to make her delirious. Riva liked to call it sunsickness. Only she didn’t like to call it anything at all, she realized as she teetered on her feet. Because her head hurt, and she was leaning on her spear, gazing over the landscape from her perch on a hill, and most importantly, she was inexplicably, irrevocably, lost. And, inconveniently, there was nothing to take her mind off that disorientation, no foxes to hunt or mushrooms to dig up.

The plan had been simple. She was heading to the coast to fish and gather before heading back to Central Hyrule before the first dawn of Farosh, only with the slight snag of Zora’s Domain in the way. Riva had resolved to find a way around the dominion swiftly. She didn’t really feel like stepping into a place of royalty, and besides, they might not appreciate her… attitude. Only she’d ventured a bit too far north, and she couldn’t smell that clear tang of salt water anywhere. She considered a variety of solutions, such as turning back and trying to find her way to a nearby stable or inn, but, conveniently, she was still lost. The little Hylian yanked a leather drinking gourd from the backpack she carried and took a long gulp, trying not to think about how the landscape seemed to melt and sway below her. Sunsickness. But the water would stave it off for a while.

Then they caught her eye, as most ragtag and unusual-looking groups tend to do. She didn’t spend too much time looking at them - she was tired, lost, and only a little out of her mind. She stabbed the spear into its holder on the backpack, pulled that backpack’s straps higher onto her shoulders, and took a running start down the hill towards the party. “Hey!” she shouted, waving one tanned arm in the air as she barreled towards them. Without thinking. As always, of course. “You three! Have any idea where -” Riva skidded to a stop, dirt gathering at the front of her boots.

Here was a cloak-weaking Hylian, which she recognized at once as someone else who, like her, was a bit shorter than normal. Interesting - she tucked that little note away in the back of her mind. Then a tired-looking Rito, whom again she could relate to, at least with the exhaustion. And a Moblin. She took an instinctive step back, and then forward, thinking at first to be afraid, and then to be hungry. She waved away both thoughts - if this one was traveling with the rest of them, then it was perfectly safe to be around and definitely not to be eaten.

Riva poked the toes of her boots into the ground, getting rid of the clumps of dirt as best as she could. She cleared her quickly-drying throat and looked up at the three. “Are you all going east?” she asked in a tone that certainly wasn’t meant to be accusatory but sounded so anyway. “Are you?”
Riva Oricore - Irritable Monster-Cooking Prodigy
User avatar
Ihsan997
Posts: 59
Joined: Sat Jul 18, 2020 8:10 pm
Pronouns: He/Him/His

Re: Fellowship of the Spring

#4

Post by Ihsan997 »

The weeks of travel had helped Boblin to feel like himself again after such a harrowing experience during the previous month. Whether the road or the wilds, roaming granted a sense of freedom which he found difficult to put into his limited words. Even with Fenn’s curious, uncharacteristic irritability, Bob’s mood couldn’t be dampened. So content was he that, when Fenn complained of thirst, Bob mistook the plea for the idle banter which nomads of all stripes took as their habits.

“Yes, I’m thirst also,” he replied, missing Fenn’s indirect request for water entirely. “But might over hill we finding water. Come boy, we should hurrying!” he added, oblivious to Robin’s travel fatigue.

Before he could scale the hill, however, his ears picked up a voice shouting over the sound of waves and wind. His ear twitched at the sound, and his pace instinctively slowed. Whoever was trying to catch their attention had been downwind, preventing their scent from reaching his nostrils. He turned to face them, finding a Hylian watching them. To Bob, she simply looked ‘young,’ though his mind defined a young Hylian as anywhere between five and thirty years old. That she didn’t flee from them was a welcome change to previous reactions they’d encountered; more than one traveler had turned tail and ran when his porcine face looked their way, so he was delighted to see another person who wanted to talk with them.

Lacking any sense of timeliness or urgency, the semi-nomad turned toward the Hylian teenager, swinging Fenn in his arms as he swiveled and changed direction. Based on habit, Bob didn’t move so as to avoid giving the appearance of standoffishness, holding still and keeping his tongue inside of his mouth. Without warning, he nominated Robin as their group ambassador.

“Ropin,” Bob said, slightly improving his pronunciation of Robin’s name, “there is Hylian like you. You can talk them? Might it want climbing hill also.”
User avatar
QoH
Queen of Hel
Posts: 1074
Joined: Sat Jul 22, 2017 6:10 pm
Location: California, Sipping Lezpresso
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers
Contact:

Seasonal Events

Re: Fellowship of the Spring

#5

Post by QoH »

Wind swept across sun-warmed wild wheat in the way a whisk stirred powdered fruit into meringue: steady, purposeful, and calm. Cool as it carried with it still the last lingering remnants of Naydra’s season and mist from the nearby Akkala Falls. The three falls’ steady rush blanketed the surrounding land, their sound the crust within which berry-bright bird song met wind’s meringue-soft whirring amidst the grasses and rocks. It was a perfect composition of the goddesses, an inspired moment savored by those whose hearts belong to the world and its less traveled roads. Such equanimity was restorative, the magic of experience something far greater than the sum of its component parts and in that way it was much like a meringue tart. A fragile combination of sweet, piquant, and rich that existed for such a short time, yet lingered upon the palate of one’s soul.

It was such moments that Chef Marmalade chased. The poetry of the wilds her greatest culinary inspiration, holding within them a power she had never appreciated prior to her incarceration. As her ears feasted upon the peace of nature, sequestered from the road by a large rock formation, the woman absently picked ears of winter wheat from the stalks where they sprouted amidst the rocky soil of the Ukuku Plains. To her side, a bowl of wheatberry porridge and apples lay forgotten from her earlier breakfast, a pot-full still simmering atop of the shimmering coals of a cooking fire. The grain of the windswept plain was harder than many other varieties, yet deliciously nutty as a porridge and best-suited to making bread. It was a journey she had taken at least twice so far, taking word from a baker in Goponga Village whose bannocks were the best Marm had ever set teeth upon and purchased their flour from the Citadel’s miller. The road had the benefit of completely avoiding the Citadel itself, a place that the once-infamous former bandit had no desire to visit. The first time she had visited she had just so happened to find a perfect place to set up her little camp, a particularly large rock formation on the north side of the road providing coverage from the wind and the view of most other travelers.

As meringue deflates with the passage of time or introduction of oil, so too is tranquility rendered flat by the intervention of others and circumstance. The wind that had so peacefully caressed the Chef now brought a cornucopia of voices to her campsite behind the rocks. It was hard to ascertain what was being said, aside from a shouted “hey” the rest were the murmurings of a pot far from boiling. Curious, and cautious, the Hylian rose to her feet and grabbed her spice-mill/mace from where it rested in the open window of her wagon. As far downwind from the ruckus as she was, Marmalade felt no need to attend to her pace of footfall or mode of ascent as she scrambled up the rock to get a good view.

Upon the road, a trio of figures journeyed. With the distance it was difficult to tell exactly who they were, but the tallest amongst them was most obviously a mobilin. The towering stature, dark hide, and singular horn standing out like rhubarb stalks in a pot of preserves. Rushing toward the trio was another lone figure, carrying what was obviously a spear. It was hard to tell what the figure was doing with the spear, but their charge toward the trio was incredibly alarming! While the Chef had never befriended a moblin before, she had met friendly members of monstrous races before and it was obvious that the ‘blin’s companions were far too slim to be bokoblins or lizalfos. Marmalade knew what it was to be attacked without pretense, having done a fair amount of it herself as a bandit. She couldn’t stand idly by and do nothing, plus what would her parole officer say if she didn’t prove her supposed rehabilitation by helping innocent travelers?

As Salt was already unhitched from the chow wagon, leaping onto the mares’ back and urging her into a gallop was a simple matter. Bursting from behind the rock, the Chef and her horse were certainly a sight. The mare was a dazzling white in the sunlight, and her brilliance only made her rider more striking, a dark-skinned woman in a pastel chef’s outfit wielding a large spice grinder.

It didn’t take long at full gallop to reach the now quartet, yet despite her initial assumption Marmalade did not find the din of an assault before her. Rather, it seemed a conversation. Realizing her mistake, Marm urged Salt to slow and they approach the group at a trot before stopping entirely.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Marmalade called as she approached, hoping to seem less threatening “I thought that one was attackin’ you’se. Promise I ain’t heuh to rob you’se’a nothin’.”

The “one” in question that she gestured toward, was a short little Hylian who didn’t even look all the way out of puberty. She also seemed to be… unwell, flushed, her complexion that of a poorly-cooked cucco breast. Had she run to this group for aid? Looking to the trio she had assumed was being accosted by what was now obviously a little girl, the Chef found the moblin she had spotted earlier was indeed a moblin, and his traveling companions were a rito and a young Hylian man.

“Ah you’se ok little girl? Don’t she look kind’a sick? Oh, I’m M by the way. Everyone else ok? No heart attacks or nothin’?”
User avatar
Pillar
Posts: 145
Joined: Sun Aug 09, 2020 8:06 pm
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Re: Fellowship of the Spring

#6

Post by Pillar »

There was already too much going on for Fenn’s pounding head to sort out. He instinctively pulled the cursed map back and stuffed it into his bag. As Bob shuffled him around, Fenn readjusted his perch in the Moblin’s arms and leaned back against him. It wasn’t just one intruder, but two. Two too many. In all honesty, it had taken Fenn a bit of time to get used to their companion Robin. Now, it was very natural to have him in the group, but they had a rocky start, mostly Fenn’s fault. The bird crossed his arms, huddling back against his amour of a moblin as he observed the newcomers. They were so noisy.

“We are traveling to the grotto just beyond those rocks. Apparently there’s some healing spring there or whatever. The boy here is dying.” He said bluntly to the group as he gestured to Robin, who simply looked tired. “My head hurts so stop being so loud. I’m thirsty, I want some water. Do either of you have water?”

Fenn rubbed his head again, squinting at the two. They were both Hylians, which normally would excite the curious rito, but in his current condition he couldn’t gather up the strength.

“Well, at least they are very cute.” Fenn mumbled to his larger companion before looking at the mage. “Ahh Bob’s right. Hylian comradery and all that, eh? You do all that chatty small talk thing for us.” He waved his wing at the boy, curling up more in the moblin’s arms. He wasn’t a fan of chitchat if it didn’t give him any new information. He just wanted to get over those rocks and find whatever was at the end of his map so that he could toss it.

“Bob, maybe you can just throw me up there…”
Post Reply