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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!
Labrynna was a sprawling melting pot of civilizations and you could find many people here from human to Goron. Bound to nature as the Goron were: Labrynnan born Goron filled the mountains with sprawling tribes and often settled across the ridges doing little to disturb the surrounding environment, paying back the stones and skies for everything they provided. Cutting through the Rolling Ridge was a tributary that fed the Zora Sea. Arrogant were the Labrynnan Zora: they refused excessive contact with outsiders. It presented an opportunity, one Sinnie looked to take advantage of. It was little known where the spring rose up from, some say it was fed by a source deep in the Fairies Woods, but it was all conjecture that Sinnie had little trust in. The Zora suspected there was a spring deep beneath the mountains, feeding the rivers which fed the sea, but little did it matter because it was not the reason he had swam so far and long to arrive in the Valley of Twins. The rivers staved off the unbearable heat of the afternoon. As the Zora arrived in the shaded hills of the base of the ridge he surfaced from the river's depths, a deep breath pulling in as he shifted from water to air. Coughing a bit he would rub at his neck, always having difficulty with the conversion since his injury.
Pulling down at his collar the Zora could not see the scar that ran along his neck, but he certainly felt the raised flesh that he hid beneath the fabric of his suit. Pulling himself onto land the Zora turned his head to spit out what water remained, tongue spitting out as his features pinched up in distaste. His cloak was drenched. Beneath he wore his wetsuit and naught else as he had come tugging satchel with minimal supplies. A few digging tools: a hand pick, hoe, and clothwrap. The Zora had come with the intent to explore the river basin. He had come across a rumor that Zora lived in this river in the past and Goron lived much closer to the land. While a few stories existed of River Zora expanding into the valley he had seen next to nothing about Goron. His purpose to visiting the valley was to find some evidence of habitation that was perhaps lost to the past.
The valley was a fertile basin so, in that, it was lush with overgrown foliage and beset by landslides on a regular basis with heavy storms and heavier Goron activity high above . . .
His boots crunched against the stony banks, mud squishing underfoot. His boots were old, but they were tough and would fend off any serpents to attempt to may prey of his toes. Sinnie stood about six and three tall, his lanky body usually vanishing beneath baggy clothing, but today he was quite exposed in his skin-tight bodysuit that kept him moist in traveling conditions. Tugging back on the strap of his satchel the Zora would proceed with the utmost -- excitement. His lips pulled back to reveal his shark-like fangs as he hurried forward, tumbling part of the way. He reached out to catch a wayward vine, pulling himself straight.
“There’s gotta be something here!” He looked around at the overgrown grounds and hanging vines. “I could make some rupee and . . . “ His jaws parted as he pulled his hands back onto his hips. Scanning the grounds he was first going to walk the river’s bank. “I think it’s shit though . . . “ He hissed. “Why would Goron live so close to water?” He absentmindedly kicked a stone into the water, watching as it sunk deep.
River Zora used to live here? What if they still did? He crouched, letting his forearms slink over his thighs. He stared at his reflection: a crooked sneer staring back at him. Reaching up his gloved hand he rubbed at his face, pushing the paralyzed half of his face to complete the smile. He was half river Zora and such would be most obvious in his ancestral form, but like this it was most easy to tell by his face. He was often told he looked like an uncivilized brute . . .
“That may be true . . . “ He did not find his features handsome and his scowl was hard to find attractive. “I’ll find something though!” Pushing back to his feet he would proceed down his path, a trail of water dripping behind him.
Verdant vines scales the precarious cliffs along his narrow path. The soft wash of the river cut through the valley like a knife. Lo how the rocks betwixt so easily eroded to let through what would become the tail end of the sea. Higher into the cliffs would the vines climb until they would vanish into the clouds, which hung low in an effervescent fog that tickled the senses with a chill expected of the spring after the morning dews. But here at the base of the cliffs one could feel the heat as the sun shone down into the crevasse: feeding the mosslings latched to rocks and the peeking sprouts pushing over stone and splitting boulders so that they may bask in the mid morning light. Everything here spoke to the weakness of stone. Everywhere one looked, but Sinnie saw it quite differently.
"How terrifying that the stone could still stand even while the forest tries to bind it and the water tries to cut it." It was a reminder that no matter how much damage you think you had caused to another: they would still fight.
Daunting as the thought may be the Zora would maintain his pace. His boots creaked as the leather was slick with water, soles grinding the smoothed gravel underfoot as he trudged along. Though his weight was negligible on land, the aquan would find a sense of purchase in each footfall, one he was rarely satisfied with. The rocky terrain, while dangerous, made it easier for him to hold his footing. It was not until river stones gave way to the dryness of flatter land that the Zora came to a pause. His left hand gripped his pouch's strap, adjusting it as he swallowed. The daunting task became apparent. The wide rivers had been surrounded, on both sides, with a forested landed. Only the sandy shore and rocky outcroppings were suitable territory for sea life such as he, but as the rocky coasts were left far behind and the mountains withdrew further back from the waters Sinnie found himself facing a wall of trees. A mix of deciduous and coniferous alike. Ferns clung to the edges of the wood with vines still holding solid no matter the grounding. His winding waterway was becoming thinner and thinner, but here he was more like to find habitat suitable to a Goron.
"Right..." Taking a deep breathe the Zora would step towards the line of trees.
While the woods began on a flat plain it would dramatically shift once one observed a several miles to trek deeper still. The further one would travel the steeper one's steps needed to become as the stone married the wood. Roots and vines gnarled and wound together, binding to the stone and made a near effortless climb up their sheer sides, but this was not something the Zora could do. His plan was to travel into the trees until he met the cliffs and from there -- he would make his next move. Soon the sun would become a faint memory in the backdrop of the canopy and darkness would overcome light, leaving but a few glimmers of sunlight peering from between bare branches and fallen groves. Many suspected these groves be the grounds set aside by forests spirits, so many refused to tread ground. Sinnie would stray from those patches, keeping strong to the path he'd chosen. The Zora would finally come to a stop.
Beneath an old oak, or something of the sort, he couldn't quite determine an oak from a fir, but it was a support for his back as he hunkered down. The humid airs in the forest were no joke and quickly sapped the aqueous traveler of his energy. Blue eyes drifted up and took in all before him. As far as the eye could see twas naught but wood and vine. The stones barely peeked out from their shelters. The ground barely breathed beneath the rugs of verre. Even as he sat twas among grasses undisturbed for years, standing as tall as his thighs and do his shoulders when he sat. It was humbling, to say the least, and the Zora had it on good fortune to take a sip of his canteen, which he had the mind to fill before leaving the safety of the waters. A gloved hand would drift up and push back his cobalt locks before catching the sight that which heaved from his chest.
Pushing to his feet he allowed his back to drag against the trunk of his tree. The Zora was blind in his right eye so was limited with his peripheral view. It would be burdensome out here in the wood so he would keep close to the trees where he could. Resting his right hand against the trunk he would slowly lead himself along. His one, good eye would occasionally drift to the ground as he searched for signs of anything out of place in the soils or stones as he passed. His goal was to get as close to the rock face as he could without disturbing wildlife. The last thing he needed was a wolfos encounter or, worse: angry forest spirits.
@ tag ● 867 ● Deeper into the woods in search for stone
The valley had a serenity to it that was haunting when you wandered all your own. You would hear things that weren't there and the things you had thought yourself familiar with seemed suspect. Sinnie had traveled many times through the valley, but he had been part of a caravan. Now he was alone and everything around him seemed so big. It had been at least two years since his last trip through. He had been with his cousin, aunt, and a few others from their tribe, but those trips were oft spent by him in the belly of the wagons, reading. He was never much of a people person and he was told his face scared people. He was fine with that, he supposed, but he couldn't help but touch his face subconsciously at the memory. He wished, sometimes, he could have remained in the sheltered safety of his wagon, but now he was all on his own and it was pretty scary. But despite his fear it was something he had to do because...
"I don't want to do it anymore." He didn't want to be a merchant. He didn't want to be a warrior. "I just want to be see it all." The things he couldn't, the knowledge he lacked!
If the Zora could explore and find these lost moments in history maybe he could make better sense of the life he had to live. He pushed along the path, feet barely carrying him to the edge of the trees where they met with the mountain's face. His eyes traced up along the gnarled vines and coiled roots. His gloved hand reached out and took hold. He could feel the strength of the vines, which had braided themselves so intricately, into the rock face. There was no question that, had he need to, he could climb it. Not that he would. He was no Kokiri... Tugging the braid he would see it was enough to support his weight. With that knowledge he would walk along the wall of stone, hand running across the foliage as he looked along the ridge's base. There had to be something here. Something of -- oof!
"Gah!" The Zora had rest his hand against the wall, but there was no more wall, instead a break in the rock, a small crack likely the result of wind and rain erosion. He tumbled to the ground, dust kicking up as he took the land dive! "What the --?" Looking up Sinnie would notice that the scar ran rather deep.
He pushed to stand, though was forced to crouch a bit as the opening was only a cut of five and half tall. He moved down to his knees and would crawl forward a bit, but as he'd soon see -- or not, there was darkness. Moving to sit at the edge of the scar Sinnie would work to light a small torch he had in his possession. After lighting it, the flame's glow would fill the small space. And small it was. It seemed no wider than twice his body, and a few heads beneath his own height. Some lichen covered the walls, a few vines as well. Towards the end of the scar was some water trickling down. Crawling along the path Sinnie peered down, taking in the distance the water fell. It looked to be a small passage, very small. He could squeeze through if he needed, but he was unsure how he would be able to get back up. Still if he did nothing ... Taking the risk Sinnie would crawl down into the opening, taking care to not touch the torch to the falling stream. It was a good few feet down, which he was able to jump, but the rocks were unstable and crumbled under his feet, forcing him to slide down the rest of the way. His back slammed into the ground, the air ripped from his chest. He would get a glimpse of the cavern before losing consciousness for a moment....
The Zora rose from his unconscious state with a start, body grieving the movement with pops and muscles pulling in refusal. He would sit up and gasped out before he snapped as his hands came over his gills, trying to desperately calm the fight between his breathing ventricles. When he was younger his gills had been cut in an incident he oft refuses to speak on, brushing aside the reaction as having chronic shortness of breathe due to an unrelated ailment. It made shifting between water breathing and land breathing a task as the shift aggravated the scarred flesh. He could feel everything ringing in pain from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes. The fall had knocked the wind out of him and a bump to his head caused him to quickly lose consciousness. The fish had been lying in a pool of water, which has since been raising since he arrived in the cavern. He looked to his wet hand, realizing the cause for his gasping had been him sitting up, out of the pool. It was good. He was worried something had punctured him on the way down.
Idly feeling around his body for any other injuries as he pushed to his feet, the Zora would look around. The entrance had been quite small, but the inside of the cavern was immense, the ceiling several hundred feet above. Rivers of water flowed through the crags, likely fed by the lake of Lynna City, which in turn fed the groves of trees that breathed life into the hidden world. A world within their world, huh? He wondered how many places were like this. He knew there were ancient ruins and dungeons that dotted their land had sparsely been explored, but to think there were places like this far from the disruptions of bandits or settlers. He would adjust the pack on his shoulder and close his cloak as he wrapped his arms around his body. It was cold, the air moist. It was like being by the ocean. Reaching up he brushed away a few tears that had pushed passed his defenses.
"It isn't time for that." He complained. "But where am I?" He turned around to look back from where he fell.
Eyes turning upward he was met with a distance that he could not jump, nor climb. Looking to his feet he would take note of the water. He could assume the pools rose occasionally, but he could not guess the frequency, if at all. For now he would pay mind to a forward stepping task. Turning around he ambled ahead before stepping into the waist deep waters. The Zora would glide along the surface, taking in the new environment. It was all very strange, but so far it seemed uninhabited. Aside from the discernible sounds of birds, perhaps bats, he saw no settlements one expected of man. As he rode along the water he would come to a stop once entering a wooded area. Pulling onto the banks he took in what appeared to be deciduous trees jutting out from rock and soil. He looked beneath his boots, noticing that there was a great many fern and mushroom. It meant the soil was exceedingly rich. Maybe the mountains at some point had been a volcano? If he could find more proof of that, perhaps he could also prove the possibility of Goron once living nearby. He doubted they would live inside these kinds of environments, full of water, but perhaps they did at some point.
Sinnie would push on, carrying himself through the foliage and other debris, taking note of everything he passed by. A few rocks here and there were hardly evidence of Goron. That would be saying if one found a Zora's spearhead that it was sign of them. Just like Goron, Zora moved around quite regularly, despite their more permanent habitations. As he reflected the Zora would come to a stop. His eyes turned up toward what appeared to be a stone island in the middle of a spring, upon which a large tree had grown around: its roots clutching to the stone, carving etchings into it and its young saplings surrounding the base. Sinnie would look a moment from the shore before moving to cross.
Sinnie would tightly grip the strap of his satchel, adjusting it as he took his first step onto the stony platforms. They looked to be slates of thinly split granite laid across the water like an interlocking puzzle: the cracks perfectly aligned in crossing patterns from where the Zora stood all the way to the end of the path which stopped near the mouth of the tree's opening, insofar that he could tell. He took care to rest his boot on the edge of the first slab. Testing his weight upon it Sinnie would push to stand fully upon it's surface. The surrounding waters rippled against his movement. Cerulean eyes turned down to the waters. He could not be sure if they were shallow or deep but the brilliant reflection made it seem almost frozen... It was still, trapped in a moment of time lost to the ages. He swallowed as the feeling of dread as he could feel the palatable age of these ruins. They were ancient.
"…I feel restless." Looking down there was a moment where he could see his reflection off to the side. Though the water could see it clearly in his eye it was nothing but darkness, making it seem as if he wasn't there. "…I guess some things never change." He would push down the self doubt and continue.
Each step carried him closer towards the tree. Overhead the whisper of a breeze caused the heavy branches to wave and groan, the lashing vines brushing in tune to an invisible song. The haunting groans of the hollowed treant were like a siren hailing the Zora to his doom. He would step from the path and be met with silence. The winds had become still, leaving him before the mouth of the elder root. The pressure of this place was crushing, but there was a truth hidden deep within. Sinnie did not have much of a choice. There was no way back, so he only had forward to go. Luckily this tree was quite the landmark so he could always find his way back. Entering the deadwood the Zora would part his jaws in awe as he looked up into the center of the tree.
Great stone stalagmites and stalactites cornered every inch of the inner structure. The roots bore into the stone creating jagged etchings that marked the trails of their growth. Twisted vines and root hung from the walls, glowing lichen painting a dim starlit sky in an otherwise empty bough. It seems that whatever had been here was eventually consumed by the tree, fed by the spring's waters. It was as he originally thought. By the looks of it the tree grew around these structures, which seemed partially carved from erosion due to rainfall, but there was some that could not have been made in nature.
The appeared to be flat stones laid across points that would otherwise fall into the abyss of pitfalls or nearly rest upon steep inclined where stone looks to have been carved out. The ground was littered in fallen leaves, fern and fungus. The Zora stepped carefully as he looked around the space. The vines swung along the invisible touch of a gust of wind, though the traveler could not speak to where it came from. There were so many passages and dark corners. Moving to the side of his path the Zora would find a fallen bit of branch from the aging tree's molting reach. Using a bit of cloth torn from the end of his cloak he would wrap it around the stick, stuffing leaves and dried grass in the wrap. Finding some flat stones he would work a spark into the head of the torch, settling the flames into their nest of tinder. The light was enough to keep him from stumbling blindly towards the dim, shifting flitters of light the lichen provided.
"What the--?" Looking around at his feet there was something strange about the ground he stood on.
Kneeling the Zora reached out to brush away some of the leaves. Pulling back a fern he would find something held taut by the vines. Finding grip with his gloved digits the Zora pulled forcibly, yanking back the object, a trail of vines following suit. He looked to the object. It was covered in dust, the orange dust breaking away in his hand. It looked like a chisel. Tucking it away into his pack the Zora would carefully move his makeshift torch around the hollow. Looking up he would let out a sigh.
"What is this place?" He leaned back, shifting the torch slightly, taking note of a large nook. "... Is that?"
Clung against the vine, on the outer edge of the dark passage looked to be a dilapidated mine-cart filled with rocks. Sinnie made his way over, brows furrowing as he held the torch overhead. Reaching in he would fish bit of the stone out of the cart, but the rest looked like ordinary rock, much of with was overgrown in lichen and fungus. He pushed aide some smaller handfuls, clearing the dust with a clumsy effort. There he would spot what looked to be a shaped tablet, carvings bore into the chiseled face. Was that chisel how these shapes were carved?
"Shit's heavy..." He tried wiggling the tablet free with one hand, but would find it was quite a sense slab, despite how thin it appeared. "Dammit." He muttered.
Turning to the side he would rest the torch on a rock, just high enough that it would continue to illuminate his work. The Zora pushed into the metal bin, stomach anchoring him on the lip of the abandoned vehicle before he reached, with both hands, for the slab. He would manage to dislodged it, yanking it up and back. His boot kicked against the side of the cart, a reverberating bang echoing through the inner sanctum before he fell backwards. He quickly tucked the stone to his chest, body heaving as he was knocked between a rock and hard place. As he sat up he would cough, rubbing some dust from his eyes. Crossing his legs he would use his sleeves to wipe the tablet free of some of the moss, though most of it became smeared by the dirt clinging to the tiny roots. The letters weren't anything he could read, nor were they very visible in the dim torch light either.
"What cucco scrawled all this scratch?" He spoke down to the old, indecipherable carvings as his legs crossed to support the heavy stone.
The slab went even all that big. Two hands across and one hand tall. Or maybe two hands tall and one across...? Well whatever! He just needed to tuck it away and continue on exploring!