Z-RP was created by NAVI. LEGEND OF ZELDA was developed by NINTENDO. All content belongs to its respective creators.
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The skin was created by Alcove. Board Layout was made by NOVA for ZRP exclusively. Do not attempt to steal or emulate anything on this board.
A LEGEND OF ZELDA ROLEPLAY
Welcome to ZRP! We are an non-canon RP site with an original tale taking place within the
lore of the Zelda Franchise. While the events of this site are entirely non-canon, we take advantage of the canons of other
games to explain its story fully. As such, we are located within the CANON TIMELINE. Do you like what you see? If so, feel free
to register and join our story! If you have any questions, you can join our discord, located in our important links!
3/14/20 The staff are working dilligintly on the next plot and introduction to ARC 3 of the site. Over the next couple weeks,
we will be transitioning the plot, organizing boards, and a new location will be added to the site! Please note that Termina will be removed from playable locations
during this process. Thank you for your patience!
Large, marble halls and dimmed lights made for a mysterious evening. A long table decorated with a feast for all to enjoy. Attendees were met and ushered by the guards who led them to the grand ballroom, where they mingled and waited for the host to give his speech. The fated time had come, the preparations for the grand even had finally come to an end as the grand ballroom of Horon Castle was filled with numerous people bearing a mask upon their face. To respond to those that accepted his invitation, the blonde king walked out, bearing his own mask as he stood before those before him.
“Good tiding one and all. To those that have donned the mask and accepted my invitation I thank you for joining me this night. Today marks a wondrous time of the year for the land of Holodrum! We take this time to celebrate the bountiful harvest and we take the time to thank the land that has gifted us this boon. To this, I dedicate this masquerade to the happiness born from the harvest! Neither race or social class shall play a part in this ball. To those who hold my letter are those that were chose by fate” Asthar said before closing his eyes and grinned a rather large grin.
“But enough formalities, I thank you all once again for coming!” Asthar said shaking his head as he rose a hand “Ah such a shame that the ladies must conceal your face...to hide your beauty is rather saddening. Nonetheless with concealed faces you still bear such a beauty...men you look alright I guess...” Asthar said before waving his hand to the side. “This is a night that is one for us to enjoy! As such any form of violence will not be tolerated! The masks upon your face shall not separate from your face until midnight. You have until then to correctly guess the identity of those around you. I offer a great reward to the one that can identify the most!” Asthar said before smirking.
“But enough talk! With this I shall proclaim the start of Holodrum’s Masquerade Ball!”
It was a strange outfit, that was for sure! But Demon couldn't really deny that it went well with their mask. Horned and shimmering with dark warm colors, Demon's outfit was tight fitting for his body, tightly clinging to his skin with jet black silk. Over it, a short tunic-like kimono robe draped over the darkness with fiery colors of red and burnt orange.
Slowly making his way through the halls and entering the grand ballroom, he looked around for a moment in wonder, not having been to something so extravagant in quite some time. He huffed, knowing that this was going to be a weird night. Of course, every night was a weird one for him these days...
Clearing his throat, he approached the feast, looking at all the wondrous assortment of foods that there were. Frantically grabbing a plate and putting as much food as he possibly could onto it without spilling, he then made his way to a table, where he was met with a waiter. "I'll take two--make it three, actually," he said hurriedly as he pointed to the small glasses of wine.
How long it been since she had truly relaxed? Certainly, it must have been before all these disastrous events had piled upon each other, one after another without a single moment’s rest. With relaxation in mind, she had taken the guise of Harlequin, a devious little thing, and accepted the blonde-haired king’s invitation so that this ball might give her some rest.
She, as the figure of Harlequin, robed herself with a black minidress, macabre in tone, while she surrounded herself in brightly-coloured bangles and anklets. She was a complete mismatch of ideas, the gaudy look of her accessories completely contrasting with the carnal reinterpretation of a mourner’s garb. Upon her face sat a delicate mask, checkered black and gold with tassels of red silk streaming outwards, obscuring her eyes but leaving her cranberry smile for all to see.
How odd an attire it was, quite different to her usual dress, but all she wanted was to be someone other than who she always was. She wanted to be free from her usual problems, and this ball would give her that release. Harlequin was a free spirit, and she was taking on that guise, so why not start with a dance? As she spotted a curious figure in menacing mask sit with a miniature feast in hand, her smile turned scarlet wicked. She was ready to have a little fun.
Pleasant surprises often came without warning, Angel had found. A ball, which had never been a typical way she spent her free time, turned out to be something quite needed. Even with the odd mask request. Still, she donned the feathered and arching up past her brow mask. It framed the delicate coifs of her hair piled on top of her head well, and despite its odd colors of white and soft grey, it matched the gown she'd picked well. The ethereal fabric fell in layers of skirt the same colors, the bodice tight and well-fitted and its sleeves hanging down her arms to leave her shoulders bare. She had been quite surprised to see how well it looked.
Angel took a proffered glass of wine from a passing waiter and sipped slowly as she moved through the ballroom, studying masked faces behind her own. A masquerade ball, where people hid and became who they so desperately wanted to be most. Free of their own rules and status for one night. She did not know how exactly she would shed her usual self for the name 'Angel' tonight, but she supposed the night was still young.
Wandering the crowded room, wine in hand, skirts swishing lightly over the floor, Angel circled the room, stopping to speak pleasantly with other masked denizens. Still, the sense of the unknowing, the mystery behind all the faces she saw tonight was one of unease and excitement brewing in her stomach all at once.
Tall chiseled marble pillars kissed an impressive mural raised above a reflective surface. Lost in reverie, countless skirts traced the intricate composition that detailed the floor beneath their feet, swaying in time to the aria that echoed in the large chamber.
One amongst the many, a petite frame moved through the crowd with subtlety, as if it was normal to be accustomed to an event such as this. Adorned in sheer white lace and silk, -a distinct light in a void of black-, vivid eyes swollen with hunger stalked the expanse in search of someone. However, as per their hosts little game, it was impossible to overcome the camouflage that kept every identity hidden, and frustration surged within breast.
Veering to the side, a Wolf emerged from a flock of sheep, hands adjusting any stray hair that threatened to lick its face. It was pointless to even attempt to perceive which soul hid behind another’s visor, and instead it was in everyone’s best interest to merely revel in the depravity that was the Fall Masquerade.
Navigating through the chaotic festivity, conventional effort resulted in acquiring one of many glasses to come. Acquainted with the taste of finer things, the bitter sweet aftertaste was welcoming compared to the inferior counterparts as of late. Practically an accessory now, it was time to ditch the empty crystal vessel in search of more interesting conversation.
Lounging on a fine couch sat a woman adorned with the brown-plumed mask of an Owl. In one hand, she held a wine-glass filled with darkest red and, in the other, she waved a feathered fan upon her concealed face. The Owl was accustomed to the open night-air, not the cage of social formalities, and had retired from the dancing after one compulsory dance. She gazed absent-mindedly upon those waltzing in joyful harmony, but her slender fingers began to lose themselves to their graceful rhythms as they played out some melody upon her wine-glass.
Her mind turning to thoughts of dance, the Owl sated her curiosity by watching those upon the marble floor. She watched as a masked woman in lilac dress placed her delicate hand in the hand of a man with red jacket, his own eyes under mask; he placed his hand on her waist and whisked her onto the ballroom floor. They turned and twirled as if they were professionals. The Owl watched and waited, her mind wandering around, as they weaved about.
p l a y Plumage and silk ran down his body as he cautiously entered the castle. Looking around to all the others that were arriving just as he was, the man in the peacock mask cleared his throat, straightening the thin robe that shrouded his figure and approached the floor. There were many others here, and with the masks in place, he wasn't quite sure whom anyone was. Perhaps first, he would start with a drink.
Approaching the table that was laid out with a glorious feast, he took a glass of wine into his hand and sipped at it with restraint. He was apprehensive, to be here in a time of war. But perhaps this was the perfect way to let go from the stress of it all. The music was lively, a waltz to get people to partner up. It was all so strange - the idea of dancing with strangers. Sipping his wine a bit less hesitantly, he waited for an opportunity to approach another attendee.
A scaled mask with a defined snout and slit-like eyes, the young man approached the main hall in slim clothing of black with olive accents. A fine tunic, embroidered with gold and green etching, the young man entered the room with apprehension. He hadn't been to a party in quite some time, and yet the regal formalities came naturally as though he had never left its lifestyle.
Entering the ballroom, he bowed to several others who had greeted him at the door before heading straight for a servant holding a platter of various wines. Taking one, he sipped at it before looking around for others to socialize with. Closing his eyes, he sighed, knowing that things were much more awkward when their identities were not known. Whom would he dance with today?
"Wait... me?" Demon asked in confusion as the jester-dressed facade approached him. Had she seen his face behind the mask, it would have been tomato red, so it was a good thing he had something to hide his embarrassment. Gulping a large lump of food in the back of his throat, he laughed sheepishly before setting the plate back down on the table. "I... I'm not the best at dancing, but I suppose I could try..." he sighed, getting up and straightening his silken garbs.
The music had picked up, ready for a waltz as he closed his eyes to the rhythm trying to focus on how to move his feet. Holding his hand out to the lady, he guided her toward the main floor and allowed her to take the lead. It was probably easier to follow at this point. She seemed confident enough to dance decently--or well, decently better than he did.
She was swift, and poise with her movement. The young vixen arrived to the scene in just the nick of time and the party was just getting started. Garbed in a sheikah styled gown of autumn colors, the young maiden was adorned with the mask of a fox, kitsune in appearance with red painted accents upon a white base.
Her heart was beating so fast, she thought she might faint. This wasn't her scene, and she was not sure where to start! She thought she might grow sick from eating or drinking, because she was so nervous. She wasn't much of a dancer these days, and she was also horrible at talking to strangers. This was... completely out of her league. Where would she start?
Taking a deep breath, the vixen strode toward the main dancing area, looking around to the others quietly as she took a deep breath. There were far too many people here, and she most likely knew none of them.
A gilded beast roamed the hall, a mask of gilded gold and horns that arched towards the sky glinted in the candlelight as Goat stalked the floor with an uneasy grace. Crowds were always a bit intolerable, but the allure of a party was more than she could resist, especially one in Holodrum. She abstained from drinking, it would do her no good and instead, dressed in fine shades of black and gold Goat moved amongst the crowds of people, watching with an amused gaze.
She had wanted to dance, mostly. The music was quite spectacular and Goat is not shy about moving between masked people across the dance floor as though it were a battlefield. There was no violence, only merry amusement and concentrated thought as people tried to piece the identities of those around them together.
Echoes of music flooded from the assembly behind, the darkness of twilight a sound comfort compared to the impertinent pandemonium within the ballroom. Outside on the terrace, poised in a regal and fine tunic, stood the proud Stag, overlooking the promenade below. Emotion clawed its way past the facade, frustration displayed in demeanor as the events of the night clearly left one discouraged.
Concealment was far from unknown territory for the skilled, yet it was impossible to be completely invisible behind a persona so otherworldly. However, for once, they were someone other than who they really were, and that opened opportunities unavailable in reality. Here, he wouldn’t be judged for crimes of the past, though he had not experienced such since coming to the surface.
There was a particular person he yearned to wrap his arm’s around, though more than his ignorance prevented him from seeking them out. There was no doubt that they participated in tonight's festivities, but something held him back.
The masquerade had begun and all was rather well to the surprise of the king. For the young man who had set this whole event up he had assumed that there would be a few issues here and there, but as things progressed it still ran rather smoothly. A throne had been set upon a stage suited only for the king of Holodrum. From there seated upon his throne Asthar gazed out upon the numerous people up and about.
Numerous young ladies stood before his stage, staring and hoping to grab the attention of the rather well-dressed king who sat upon his chair with a rather charming smile. Through the sea of people his eyes spotted a single person and from there his crimson eyes that were concealed by the mask he wore continued to stare upon the woman whose beauty had captured him. It was the fact alone that she chose to attend his event that the smile on his face was so warm and gentle. A masquerade in which one could attend without revealing their identity, surely this could hopefully be to her liking.
The mask Asthar wore was unlike everybody else’s. For Asthar he didn’t choose to hide his identity as it was better for everybody to acknowledge who the host truly is. While he was masked, the mask merely covered his eyes, blocking others from noticing where exactly his eyes were looking at. A well dressed suit and a top hat were a part of his outfit and his golden blond hair could be seen.
Eventually the glance of Asthar could only move away from the woman that had caught his eyes. Sitting around unable to interact with her or even offer her a dance was far too annoying for the king and he almost wished he did go anonymous. Overall he knew the roles of each that attended and he had quite an interesting list.
He truly needed something to keep his mind from just sitting about. His eyes glanced down towards the numerous women before him and he couldn’t help but give them a smile. “Now now ladies, settle down. I’m glad to see such radiant gems before me” Asthar said with a small chuckle lowering his head as he held up a rose. “I wonder who will hold this rose of my affection in the end” Asthar said.
At first, she had thought her outfit unbecoming, a product of some cruel joke. An insult to her pride, perhaps, or a jest at assigning her the bull, but she had been convinced otherwise when she saw the outfit that had been tailored to match her mask. It was perfect, and she could keep a low profile, as was intended at such an event.
Many people, all masked, surrounded her as she studied the glass of wine in her hand, crimson red, her mask pulled to the side and face concealed when she felt the need for a sip. So many people, gathered in one place, so free in their identities... It was nice. An escape from the repetition of her normal life.
She had thought the dancing would be of no interest to her, but something piqued her interest. The host had recently made an appearance, so graciously offering a rose to the women of the event. She couldn't help but scoff, but an idea tickled at her mind. This wasn't an attempt at courtship. It was showmanship. An unfortunate passing attendant was left with the burden of her wine glass as she stepped onto the dance floor, past those mingling and those dancing. The earthy bronze of her dress was accented with the finest jewlery she could gather, sapphires from the Zora Sea, diamonds from the sky villages of the Rito, rubies that grew in the Talos around the Goron City. The sleeves were long, flowing to her wrists, open on either side of her arm and tied down. The fabric itself seemed to shimmer like smelted bronze as she walked, with purpose towards the king, stopping within earshot of his throne to fall into a deep, practiced curtsy.
"With respect, my liege, I vie not for your rose, but it would be a shame to throw such a party without a dance, would it?"
With any luck, she could see what game was being played at here.
Aiz stood at the king's side, stately and poise in manner. She eyed the attendants carefully, inspecting each of them as they mingled and conversed with one another. While everyone was (admittedly required) dressed for the occasion, Aiz refused to do so herself, feeling that a mask would hinder her ability to act on guard for the king.
Slender and unfeminine in appearance, Aizen was dressed in her usual attire of blue robes and britches, adorned with a feather hat to match. Rigid in appearance, she made eyes with Asthar as he moved toward the crowd to speak to the growing appearance of young women.
Sighing, she waited hesitantly to hear him speak. Holding a rose in hand, she wondered what it was that he was intending. Despite having served the prince since he was an infant, she found him to be incredibly unpredictable. This... was one of those moments.
"Sire," she interjected quietly. "don't you think that this may be... in bad taste?" Narrowing her eyes, she gazed across the crowd to see if his intended was in amongst the group, worried for what her reaction may be. "If I may be so bold, just from personal experience... flattering the hearts of women outside of your beloved is a bit... inconsiderate."
Although she didn't necessarily love the idea of Asthar devoting himself to the Hero's sister, she was quite orthodox on the virtues of fidelity. After watching Asthar's father mistreat his poor mother for so long, she understood the pain that came with feeling betrayed.