The Unknown Character he/him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 14 minutes ago, Archer said: Hide contents If I had a nickel for every player that doesn't seem to realize we did exe the outed elim, I'd have like three nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's still enough to annoy me Not actually annoyed, but that EoD was a scary read 1
Mystic He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 7 minutes ago, The Unknown Medallion said: If I had a nickel for every player that doesn't seem to realize we did exe the outed elim, I'd have like three nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's still enough to annoy me Not actually annoyed, but that EoD was a scary read I still think we should’ve Exed Hael. I think we won either way, but Hael would’ve drastically limited the available Elim Teams
Araris Valerian he/him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 22 minutes ago, Mistfallen Soldier said: I still think we should’ve Exed Hael. I think we won either way, but Hael would’ve drastically limited the available Elim Teams If we won either way, then how are we learning less from exeing Stick?
The Unknown Character he/him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 22 minutes ago, Mistfallen Soldier said: I still think we should’ve Exed Hael. I think we won either way, but Hael would’ve drastically limited the available Elim Teams Stick eliminated twice as many teams as Hael, and the only teams that Stick didn't eliminate require the elims to make a nonsensical kill
Mystic He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 24 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said: If we won either way, then how are we learning less from exeing Stick? Well, we know there was a Elim in Hael/Drake/Stick, and an Elim in Hael/Doc. Exing Stick solves one, Hael solves two. But that’s not really relevant cause we exed Stick. So it doesn’t matter right now 24 minutes ago, The Unknown Medallion said: Stick eliminated twice as many teams as Hael, and the only teams that Stick didn't eliminate require the elims to make a nonsensical kill Honestly I just wanted to exe Hael, and I’m tunneling right now. So I’m gonna take a break and hopefully come back in an hour or two and be able to figure out what I think is happening
Wahrheitswächter He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 (edited) Now they had apparently been swallowed by a Gianourmos Piranha, this was getting more wierd than Wahi could handle. He let himself Fall against one of the walls and just sat down, multiple gashes all over his body and another broken shoulder. The Zoras that the Ghost Pirates had captured were here. He hoped that the Ruins in the stomach of a Giant Piranha were the right Place to find the third mask. He had however no idea how he should endure a fourth loop. Edited March 17 by Wahrheitswächter 1
Mystic He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 Kieran pulled himself upwards. The fight had stretched him to his limits, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do anymore. Despite that, he still needed to stand. To get up. Because they still needed that mask. Getting swallowed by a fish wasn’t the best place to be, but they could be dead right now, so Kieran supposed it wasn’t the worst situation they could be in. Looking at the many streaks of blood throughout his figure, some bleeding rather rapidly, Kieran summoned his strength. He started cutting off lengths of algae from the walls, planning to use them to bind his wounds. He called out to Thistle “Hey, do you know if this algae will work to stop blood? Or is it deadly or something…” Kieran knew Thistle was having the rough of it. After seeing Amora as a ghost, but it was always best to have something to do, something to distract yourself with. @Doc12 1
Doc12 Posted March 17 Posted March 17 8 hours ago, Archer said: Reveal hidden contents Extremely impressed you made doof into Thistle and recreated Lili and Zymni 4 hours ago, Mistfallen Soldier said: Kieran pulled himself upwards. The fight had stretched him to his limits, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do anymore. Despite that, he still needed to stand. To get up. Because they still needed that mask. Getting swallowed by a fish wasn’t the best place to be, but they could be dead right now, so Kieran supposed it wasn’t the worst situation they could be in. Looking at the many streaks of blood throughout his figure, some bleeding rather rapidly, Kieran summoned his strength. He started cutting off lengths of algae from the walls, planning to use them to bind his wounds. He called out to Thistle “Hey, do you know if this algae will work to stop blood? Or is it deadly or something…” Kieran knew Thistle was having the rough of it. After seeing Amora as a ghost, but it was always best to have something to do, something to distract yourself with. @Doc12 Thistle's voice came in a flat monotone. "Don't do that. It's wet and it's salty from seawater. Try drying it over a fire first." Sighing, they stood. They walked to Kieran, pulling out yarrow and bandages from their satchel, binding his wounds silently. Turned to Wahi, gave them something to numb the pain, splinted his arm. Checked Heroshi and Link for injuries. They were Gorons. They were fine. Lastly, Ap. She didn't seem injured. Just shaken. Thistle understood. Thistle was powerless to help, they were feeling the exact same thing. They sat beside Ap, completely silent, and just stared at the rippling, fleshy walls. 3
Burnt Spaghetti she/her Posted March 17 Posted March 17 When the pirates had attacked, Cindra had found herself increasingly grateful for the mask that was now stuck to her face. The pirates had also not noticed her, enabling her to move to safety relatively undetected. It was a lot easier to dodge attacks when you weren't being aimed at. But now as she found herself inside the belly of a beast, she found herself longing to be able to comfort her friends around her. But without a song or a cure all potion, this Mask wasn't coming off. She lingered by Ap and Thistle, unsure what to do. She wasnt even sure they knew she was still alive and with them. She looked through her pack for a moment. She pulled out one of the spare blankets shed shoved in there when first packing, and folded it up neatly. She placed this next to where they sat, with one of the few remaining snacks on top and moved back. Maybe they would see that? She wasnt sure if the masks abilities extended to her belongings. 1
|TJ| he/him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 Cosmetica found the concept of earning rupees by talking to be ridiculous. He was not a quiet person, not at all. If you had seen him in argument when pursuing Minions of Mischief, you would have thought he does not shut up. But in truth, outside all that, you would find that he was a man of very few words. There was nothing interesting about small talk to him. It had suited him just fine, as he did not really care about his wealth till now. He'd get by only with his wit. His wit hadn't served him well recently. What could you do when you could not trust your own mind? Perhaps it was time to depend on material items. And for that, he needed rupees. So there he was, amongst people, preparing himself for... small talk... 2
Archer he/him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 (edited) 2 hours ago, |TJ| said: His wit hadn't served him well recently. that's what King Elhokar said I also need RP money. Floating in the ether, Ouae softly hummed the song she'd heard playing on an ocarina. "Infused with lemon, not lime. An aromatic that rhymes In this limerick I sing. If crushed, here's the thing, It's clobberin' thyme." Edited March 17 by Archer 2
Mystic He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 Rp Money is nice 6 hours ago, Doc12 said: Extremely impressed you made doof into Thistle and recreated Lili and Zymni Thistle's voice came in a flat monotone. "Don't do that. It's wet and it's salty from seawater. Try drying it over a fire first." Sighing, they stood. They walked to Kieran, pulling out yarrow and bandages from their satchel, binding his wounds silently. Turned to Wahi, gave them something to numb the pain, splinted his arm. Checked Heroshi and Link for injuries. They were Gorons. They were fine. Lastly, Ap. She didn't seem injured. Just shaken. Thistle understood. Thistle was powerless to help, they were feeling the exact same thing. They sat beside Ap, completely silent, and just stared at the rippling, fleshy walls. Kieran winced inside at Thistles voice. Thistle was hurting more than he’d thought they would. Seeing Amora like that… who knew what would happen next time, but maybe she’d be better Though… none of that mattered if they didn’t make it to the next loop. ”Thistle… about Amora….” He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, “She’ll be alright once Ap plays the song… she’s not… gone” He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, Thistle’s face seemed emotionless 1
Doc12 Posted March 17 Posted March 17 (edited) 1 hour ago, Mistfallen Soldier said: Rp Money is nice Kieran winced inside at Thistles voice. Thistle was hurting more than he’d thought they would. Seeing Amora like that… who knew what would happen next time, but maybe she’d be better Though… none of that mattered if they didn’t make it to the next loop. ”Thistle… about Amora….” He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, “She’ll be alright once Ap plays the song… she’s not… gone” He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, Thistle’s face seemed emotionless Thistle didn’t look up. They’d put an arm around Ap and was stroking her back, almost mindlessly. “You think it’s just about Amora.” Kieran didn’t seem to know what to say. Thistle gave Ap a small, quick hug, stood, walked to the other side of the cavernous space, nodding for Kieran to follow. Out of Ap’s earshot. “It’s about her." “The apprentice?” Kieran asked. “Her name is Ap. She is eleven years old. She just watched her grandfather die. Twice now she’s been the only one who can play a song while everyone else around her buys her time.” Thistle laughed, mirthless, almost hysteric. “Zymni went missing the last loop. She was killed. Now Amora’s…” They didn’t finish their thought. “I don’t want to do another loop, Kieran.” Thistle said, quietly. Kieran opened his mouth. “Amora will be back. Everyone who died will be back.” his voice was warm, reassuring. “... I don’t want to be back.” Thistle’s voice grew even quieter. Thinking about waking up again in their flower shop, everything back to normal only to fall apart again. Of seeing friends revived only to lose them again. Of the child… Oh Ap… “…I don’t want Ap to be back. That child is eleven years old.” A deep breath. “But she’ll keep rewinding time, and doing it all over again, because its the only thing she knows she can do. Because its what is expected of her. Because we have to get some ‘Great Masks’ or the Moon falls and we all die anyways.” One beat. Two. Thistle turned away. “…Would that be so bad?” Kieran didn’t say anything. Thistle didn’t think there would be anything to say. "Your bandages look okay. Come back to me in an hour if you're still bleeding. I'll have something for you." Not turning back to look at him, Thistle turned and walked back to Ap, sat themselves down again, and stared at nothing. (putting some words into kierans mouth here but yeah, Thistle is... Not well) Edited March 17 by Doc12 4
Wahrheitswächter He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 (edited) "You are not the only one who just wants its all to be over, Thistle." Said Wahi, "I do not know how I am supposed to endure another Loop. I have woken up a Day or two before the Carnival, not remembering anything, since then I am caught in a Loop of Pain, Suffering, Death and Disaster, all I can remember are the loops, I still remember how it felt when I drowned in the Swamp the first loop. Gasping for air as the Swamp Water fills my lungs and the life slowly leaves my Body." (@Doc12 Thistle isn't the only one who isn't well) Edited March 17 by Wahrheitswächter 1
Mystic He/Him Posted March 17 Posted March 17 (edited) 2 hours ago, Doc12 said: Thistle didn’t look up. They’d put an arm around Ap and was stroking her back, almost mindlessly. “You think it’s just about Amora.” Kieran didn’t seem to know what to say. Thistle gave Ap a small, quick hug, stood, walked to the other side of the cavernous space, nodding for Kieran to follow. Out of Ap’s earshot. “It’s about her.” “The apprentice?” “Her name is Ap. She is eleven years old. She just watched her grandfather die. Twice now she’s been the only one who can play a song while everyone else around her buys her time.” Thistle laughed, mirthless, almost hysteric. “Zymni went missing the last loop. She was killed. Now Amora’s…” They didn’t finish their thought. “I don’t want to do another loop, Kieran.” Kieran opened his mouth. “Amora will be back. Everyone who died will be back.” “... I don’t want to be back.” Thistle’s voice grew so quiet once more. Thinking about waking up again in their flower shop, everything back to normal only to fall apart again. Of seeing friends revived only to lose them again. Of the child… Oh Ap… “…I don’t want Ap to be back. That child is eleven years old.” “But she’ll keep rewinding time, and doing it all over again, because its the only thing she knows she can do. Because its what is expected of her. Because we have to get some ‘Great Masks’ or the Moon falls and we all die anyways.” One beat. Two. Thistle turned away. “…Would that be so bad?” Kieran didn’t say anything. Thistle didn’t think there would be anything to say. Not turning back to look at him, Thistle turned and walked back to Ap, sat themselves down again, and stared at nothing. (putting some words into kierans mouth here but yeah, Thistle is... Not well) (It’s good, it’s in line with what he’d probably say) Kieran sighed, “I probably don’t understand it perfectly… but…” He trailed off, uncertain. The group had gone through a lot, nearly everyone had died at some point. He looked over the group. Every one of them seemingly dejected on the floor. What could he say? What could he do? They had to keep going though… He just had to convince to push through, try for another loop… anything Edited March 17 by Mistfallen Soldier 1
Burnt Spaghetti she/her Posted March 17 Posted March 17 Cindra sat down and just started playing her flute. She had noticed that people didnt seem to notice it much when she played. It was normal to have music playing around the town, so she found when she had played over their journeys the sound had slotted easily into the background and felt normal. Maybe in a bit shed go explore, but she wanted to stay near Ap and everyone else. She may be unnoticed but she was by no means invincible. 1
Amanuensis he/him Posted March 17 Author Posted March 17 (edited) 2 hours remain to RP and prepare for the Final Day 1 Edited March 17 by Amanuensis 1
Mystic He/Him Posted March 18 Posted March 18 16 minutes ago, Amanuensis said: 2 hours remain to RP and prepare for the Final Day 1 Yessss, this is gonna be fun. But we should be wise
Amanuensis he/him Posted March 18 Author Posted March 18 Night 3-C is now over. Stand by for Day 4-A.
Wonko the Sane he/him Posted March 18 Posted March 18 Zymni sat quietly in the dark, unnoticed, watching Thistle. Watching the others. Listening. And thinking. Thistle was hurt. Zymni hadn't noticed, had been too caught up in her own problems. But all these events hadn't been easy on the florist. Zymni remembered crawling, broken, into the Temple of Time. Remembered the searing pain as the Temple's light -- the Goddesses' Light -- washed over her, dislodging her from Time and from Hyrule. She remembered when she'd crashed into Termina. Into a place with no Dark Interlopers, no Fused Shadow, no Mirror of Twilight, no Seven Sages. No Twili. No home. She remembered her anguish and despair, her feeling of being so lost that there could never be a way out. Wandering Clock Town aimlessly in the night. Cowering through the days in bushes and flower beds. She remembered Thistle finding her in a flower bed and bringing her home. Termina... mattered, didn't it? It felt silly to even think. All these people, this whole world. Of course it mattered. And yet... somewhere inside, Zymni found she'd been reassuring herself that Termina wasn't REAL, not really. Not like Hyrule, like the Twilight Realm. She'd needed to focus on going home, to save her people from the terrible machinations of Zant, from the ancient evil of the Demon King. To see her family again. What had the fate of some barely-real mirage mattered in the face of that? Zymni followed Thistle's gaze. Stared at the little child in the green tunic. Ap. Ap wanted that too, didn't she. She was so afraid, so lost, so alone. But she kept working, kept moving. Because she needed to save everyone. She needed to be with her family. Ap... was like Zymni. Zymni remembered her fierce annoyance the previous night, at the old fool who stood in her way. Telling her that his granddaughter would send Zymni home AFTER the little Hero was done with what she needed to do. With newfound disgust, Zymni remembered the distinct feeling of petulant satisfaction she'd indulged in, seeing the old man's head roll. But he'd been right. Zymni drew herself up sharply, newfound determination singing in her. The Song could wait. Until after Termina had been saved. 1
Amanuensis he/him Posted March 18 Author Posted March 18 (edited) LG110, Day 1-D: The Final Day (Inverted) The Final Day will end on Friday, March 20th @ 10:00 PM EST. Due to a combination of factors, the Minions of Mischief have offered their surrender. Instead of cutting the game off here and risk leaving anyone unsatisfied by the anticlimax, I have modified the Final Day rules. As we have come this far already, I figure there’s no harm with a small experiment if it means we can have a bit more fun as a last hurrah. The rules are as follows: Ap has played the Inverted Song of Time, slowing down the Day. As such, this turn will last 72 hours. Every 24 hours, I will execute the player with the most votes OR I will execute a player as soon as I see they have passed 10 votes total. The Day will continue unabated until all exes have been spent. You can use them all in the next 24 hours or let the full 72 hours run their course. In order for Link’s Zealots to win, 3 Minions of Mischief must be executed. As soon as a player is executed, I will reveal their alignment. I reserve the right to troll You only get 3 chances, so choose wisely. Wayward Few Quote The drainage end had nothing. One of the Research Lab survivors had already mapped it — grates too narrow for a hand, mechanical gills cycling bay water in and out on a rhythm that would grind anything larger than a finger into paste. There was no exit that direction. There was only forward. They moved in a group through the connecting chambers, following the water current backward toward its source, deeper into Gyorg's architecture. The passages were low and tight in some places and wide in others, the stone channels carved with symbols that looked older than the creature itself. Whatever Gyorg was, it had not been born. It had been built, assembled with materials that looked ancient. Alien, even. The sound changed as they got closer — a low resonant hum underneath the water noise, mechanical but not quite. The sound of power being held in one place for a very long time. The cranium chamber was round, high-ceilinged, and empty. No machinery. No brain. No biological structure of any kind. Just a stone room large enough for all of them to stand in without crowding, the walls smooth and curved and faintly warm, the floor dry for the first time since they'd woken. The hum was loud here, coming from everywhere at once. Light came through the walls on either side — not artificial light, actual outside light, filtered through the golden apertures of the mask mounted across the entire front face of the chamber. Two great circular eyes, the lenses of Gyorg's mask, looking out at the world. They walked to them and looked through. Below, far below, was Ikana Canyon. The dead river. The ruined watchtowers. The long grey scar of the valley floor stretching toward the horizon. And at the end of the valley, rising into the sky on its inverted towers, the Stone Tower Temple — close enough now that the details of its faces were visible, the carved figures, the impossible architecture of a building that pointed down at the sky. They were flying in the sky somehow and heading straight for it. "I wondered when you'd find your way up here." The voice came from above, from wherever the shadow was deepest at the top of the curved ceiling. It had not been there a moment ago, or it had been there the whole time and had only now decided to be noticed. The laughter that followed was the real laugh, the one underneath all the performances — older than the Skull Kid's voice, older than any of them, the laugh of something that had been patient for centuries and was done being patient. Majora dropped from the ceiling and hung in the air at the center of the chamber, the familiar slight figure in the purple cap, the long-limbed posture of a child who was not a child. He spread his arms. "I am grateful for your help, Minions." The word came out warm, almost fond, which made it worse. "Without you," he laughed again, high and delighted, "my victory wouldn't taste this sweet." A Deku nut hit him square between the eyes. The laughter stopped. The Skull Kid blinked, touched his face, then looked at Ap. She stood in the center of the room in her Deku form with her arms at her sides. Around her, the group had fanned out without being told to, weight forward, makeshift weapons up, the positioning of people who had spent three loops learning each other's reflexes. Ap turned and walked to the inner face of Gyorg's mask. She put her left hand flat on the cold stone of it, feeling the hum move through her palm. With her right hand, she brought up the ocarina. She had never played one-handed. It was not a natural thing to ask an instrument to do. But if she could finish the song with her hand on the mask — if she could anchor herself here in the moment time reversed, hold on to this single point while everything unwound — then when they started over, she would not be empty-handed. She played the first note. Majora crossed the chamber in less than a second. He came down from above, all angles and speed, and Link went up to meet him. The Goron had been watching the ceiling since they'd entered — not out of fear, Ap realized, but because he'd been waiting for exactly this. He spun into a full roll in midair, the spikes connecting with Majora's midsection in a hit that had no business landing as cleanly as it did, and sent the Skull Kid crashing sideways into the curved wall hard enough to crumble a section of it outward. The crack spread. Through the new gap, night air rushed in, cold and smelling of stone and dead valley. The Skull Kid lay against the rubble. Then the body moved wrong. It stood, but not like a body stands — like something inside the body had run out of interest in maintaining the performance. The purple cap fell. The familiar proportions stretched and inverted. The Skull Kid's form came apart at the seams and the mask emerged from its center not as something worn but as something that had always been the core of it, the actual thing, the rest having been costume. What unfolded from it was not a child made of twigs and straw. It was roughly human-shaped and entirely wrong. The mask dominated — those wide orange eyes, the swirling colors, the expression that was many expressions at once — but now it was a body, a torso of layered pigment and alien geometry, the limbs long and too-jointed and tipped with spines, the head a single great eye on a stalk above the mask-face, cycling its attention in a full rotation. Color moved across the surface of it the way color moves across oil on water, never settling, never resolved. It was the same thing that had been in the rafters above Odolwa and above the racetrack and above every bad moment of the last three loops. Just not bothering to look small anymore. It looked at Ap. She played the second note. Majora moved. What followed was not a fight in any orderly sense. It was twelve people refusing, repeatedly and by coordination, to let one thing have what it wanted, which was to reach a small girl in the corner who was playing an ocarina with one hand and wouldn't stop. Majora came for Heroshi first and Arenta got between them, taking the blow across the shoulder and spinning with it to minimize the damage, and Heroshi swung while Majora's attention was on Arenta and connected, and Majora turned to deal with Heroshi and Wahi hit it from behind at the knee joint. It turned again. Cosmetica had already moved into the angle it vacated. It kept turning and kept finding someone new in each direction, and each person it reached for found someone else arriving behind it. It learned quickly. It started choosing its targets by weight rather than proximity — going for whoever was smallest or had already taken a hit, trying to manufacture a gap it could hold. When it grabbed Arenta by the ankle and swung, Gor Elam caught the swing and braced, and Heroshi hit the arm holding her until it released. Ap played the third note. The fourth. Majora drove both arms into the floor and sent a shockwave through the stone that knocked everyone off their feet. When they landed it was already at Wahi, one hand around his throat, the stalked eye swinging down to look at the remaining notes left to play. Zymni hit it across the back with both hands, hard, and Cosmetica came in low, and Wahi got a foot under himself and pushed while Majora was occupied, and it dropped him. He landed wrong on one knee and didn't get back up all the way but he was alive and between Ap and everything else, and that was what he'd been trying to be. The fifth note. The sixth. It was smarter now. It stopped chasing individuals and started herding, pushing the group's perimeter inward with steady pressure, forcing them to collapse toward Ap to avoid the walls and the ceiling and the gap in the stone where the night air came in. The more it compressed the perimeter, the fewer angles they had to attack from. It had done the geometry. Thistle had also done the geometry. She moved opposite to everyone else — outward, into the space the group was evacuating, drawing Majora's attention with the specific audacity of a person who had decided that the math worked out. Majora turned. She was already throwing everything she had in his direction — not weapons, she'd been an herbalist the whole time, three loops of an herbalist, but she knew her cabinet and she knew what burned and what blinded and what expanded into smoke when it hit a hot surface, and Majora was a hot surface. The chamber filled with smoke. Ap played through it. Seven, eight. Majora came through the smoke and Cindra was suddenly there, and Kieran behind her, and Ouae at the edge providing what cover she could, and they bought the ninth note and the tenth, and Majora turned and threw them aside one by one the way a tide turns over rocks, methodical, working through the perimeter until it was down to the last few. The eleventh note. Thistle came out of the smoke and put herself directly in front of Ap. She wasn't pretending to attack. She wasn't drawing fire. She was standing there, fully in the way. The way you stand in front of something when you've decided that the thing behind you is more important than what's coming. Her satchel was open and she'd used most of it and her hands were steady anyway. Majora stopped. It stood in the center of the ruined chamber and looked at her, the eye on its stalk cycling down to focus, the mask-face running through all its expressions. It was deciding whether killing her was worth the time. It decided she was. Ap played the last note. She heard it behind her — she didn't look, she kept her hand on the mask and kept her eyes on the notation and let the last phrase go where it needed to go — and the note rang out in the chamber above the sound of everything else. The hum in the walls surged. The mask under her palm went warm and then warmer, the stone becoming almost soft, the power of it recognizing what was being asked. She turned. Thistle was looking at her. Not at Majora, not at the wound, not at the floor — at Ap, directly, as if she'd known the exact moment to look and had been waiting for it. Her expression was not afraid. It was the expression of someone who has finished something they meant to finish. Ap looked back at her. The note was still ringing. Time cracked at the edges and began to fold. Thank you, Thistle's mouth said, though there was no sound left in the loop for it. Thank you, Ap said back, though she was already dissolving into the beginning of everything, the ocarina still warm in her hand, the mask still warm under her palm, Gyorg's great eye around her going dark as the world rewound. The Stone Tower Temple fell upward into the night sky. Ikana Canyon reversed. The bay went back to morning. One last chance. Happy Mask Salesman Quote The bell above the door made its soft brassy laugh, and the Happy Mask Salesman turned from the shelf he was dusting and bowed to it. His Apprentice stood in the doorway. She had her green cap on straight, for once. Her wooden sword was at her hip. The moon tear ocarina was in her hand, and in her other hand, turning slowly, was Gyorg's Mask. He set the feather duster down. He did not say tell me. He crossed the shop and took the mask from her very gently, turned it over, pressed his thumb to the underside where the seal had broken, and set it on the counter. Then he looked at her — not the look he'd given her the last three times, not the careful arithmetic of a man working from new information, but the look of a man who has been waiting a long time to stop pretending he doesn't know things. "We don't have long," he said. "Majora won't be happy. You need to play the Song of Time in reverse." She stared at him. "Inverted. It will dilate the day — stretch it. Not for us, we'll move at the same pace, but the sun will fall more slowly. The clocks will tick as if they're thinking about it. We'll have twelve extra hours before dark." He picked up the feather duster again. "Play it now, and then help me tidy up, and then go find everyone who remembers. Bring them here before you tell them anything. I need them all in this room." She played the Inverted Song of Time. Outside, the trumpet player hit a note and held it longer than he meant to. They came in ones and twos across the morning, the familiar faces, the ones who wore their loops behind their eyes in the particular way that was becoming recognizable to Ap as a kind of family resemblance. She brought them to the shop and the Happy Mask Salesman greeted each one and offered tea and kept his hands busy with small tasks and said nothing until they were all there and the door was locked and the last one was seated. Ap noticed, only then, that the walls were bare. Every mask had been taken down. The hooks were empty. The shop looked like a room that had forgotten what it was for. The Happy Mask Salesman stood at the front and looked at them. Then he pushed up his left sleeve. The Dreamer's brand was there — faded, older than the ones they'd seen on the guards and the cultists, the ZZZ scored into the skin with the particular quality of something done a long time ago and not removed. He let them look at it. He did not explain it away. "I am sorry," he said, "for lying to you. There is a great deal you should know. Perhaps should have already known — that failure is mine, not yours, and I won't ask you to be comfortable with it." He rolled the sleeve back down. "I can only tell you now, and tell you everything, and ask you to decide what to do with it afterward." He was quiet for a moment, gathering the threads in the right order. "Thirty-three years ago, when the Hero of Time left Termina, he did not leave it the same way he entered it. Something of his passing remained — not in the world, but in certain people. For most, the memory of those three days was like a dream that dissolves by midmorning. The more time passed, the less of it held. But those of us who had seen him every day, who had spoken with him at the beginning of each loop and watched him fail and try again and eventually find his way through — some of us retained it fully. All of it. Everything." He paused. "In time, we found each other. We compared what we remembered. We asked what it meant that the moon had nearly fallen and that most of Termina would never know. Some of us believed we'd been given a responsibility. Others believed we'd been given a warning." He looked at Ap. "Professor Kashika was among us. I imagine you didn't work that out." He waited. She had. "She was also, for a time, the most rigorous student of what we'd witnessed. The masks, particularly. A mask through which the Hero of Time acts, she argued, becomes something more than it was — it retains an impression of that contact, like a seal pressed into wax. She studied all of them she could find. But Majora's Mask concerned her most. The mask had been sealed. It had been declared cleansed. She did not believe it." A beat. "She was right, and I, for a time, was not careful enough to agree with her. I lent the mask to parties who I believed had good intentions and better containment. That was my mistake, and it was a significant one." He folded his hands. "They had found a way to break a piece of it away from the whole. To cultivate what they'd broken off, slowly, in the dark, across years. By the time I understood what they'd done with it, Majora had already come to my shop. I remember the night clearly. He was only but a fragment, and when he took the rest, he reabsorbed what had been kept from him. And here we are." Outside, the sun moved slowly. The clock tower ticked like a man choosing his words. "Eleven years ago, Professor Kashika brought me an infant. I have no family of my own. No wife. No children. But I have kept this shop for thirty years, and I have known Kashika for most of them, and when she placed that child in my arms she told me two things. The first was that she had dreamed of the moon falling — not a memory, she was very clear about the distinction; Kashika had not yet been born to remember Link — but a dream. A vision. An old man in a shop with white hair. A girl in a tunic at the end of the world, standing between it and that ancient, evil force that wished to end it." He looked at Ap directly. "The second thing Kashika told me was that she had never believed in prophecy, and she was not starting now, but that she was going to spend the rest of her life watching the stars anyway. Just in case." He did not finish the sentence he had started about what Ap was. He did not need to, and the shape of the thing they'd all been circling for three loops did not need to be named to land. "She is my family," he said instead, simply. "She has been for eleven years, and that is not a thing I am going to qualify." He straightened. "Now. To the matter at hand." He looked around the room — the bare hooks, the locked door, the people seated on every available surface. "There are those among you who remember the loops as we do, and there are those who are here for reasons that are not the ones they have given. We will not leave this shop until we have sorted out which is which. This is not an accusation." He paused, and his tone made clear that it was partly an accusation. "It is a necessity. Majora has had three loops to plan around us. He has not been idle." He picked up the feather duster from the counter. "We will do this calmly, and thoroughly, and when the day is done, we will walk out of here knowing exactly who we are walking out with." He looked at the masked walls, now empty, then back at the room. "I suggest we begin." No one was removed. Link's Zealots won Gyorg's Mask. @coco.pudding, @Ashbringer, @TwinStorm, @DrakeMarshall, and @Stick. have been resurrected. When a player reaches 10 votes, I will flip them immediately. Otherwise the exe deadlines are as follows: First Execution by Wednesday, March 18th, 10 PM EST Second Execution by Thursday, March 19th, 10 PM EST Third Execution by Friday, March 20th, 10 PM EST Player List 0 Amanuensis Happy Mask Apprentice, AKA 'Ap' 1 @The Unknown Order Heroshi 2 @Araris Valerian Arenta 3 @Wahrheitswächter Wahi 4 @Ashbringer Coliver 5 @coco.pudding Amora 6 @|TJ| Cosmetica 7 @Stick. meeee 8 @Haelbarde Link the Goron 9 @Wonko the Sane Zymni 10 @Doc12 Thistle 11 @Burnt Spaghetti Cindra 12 @DrakeMarshall Squircle 13 @Mistfallen Soldier Kieran 14 @Divergent Gor Elam the Goron 15 @Archer Ouae the Zora 16 @TwinStorm Mumbo Edited March 19 by Amanuensis 3
Amanuensis he/him Posted March 18 Author Posted March 18 BTW you don't need to wait for PMs, I don't see much point in sending them since the shop is, unfortunately, closed
Archer he/him Posted March 18 Posted March 18 Burnt I'd love to hear the dead doc's thoughts, but I'm looking at Hael, then Drake afterwards. I'm open to considering anyone we exed last loop, but honestly think we have better odds betting on this explanation.
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