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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
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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!
If one was less educated they could easily mistake Lyall for the sort of man who was drawn towards bad crowds. Pirates, gangers, hoodlums of all sorts. It did not matter one's race but tattoos often spoke lowly of men out on adventure seeking to draw their memories not into the land, or chronicle their words through pages: but instead carve their memories, dreams, and worries into their flesh with needle and ink. It was a trying process, to be sure, that caused pain and required a type of resilience that thrived on the meditations found in suffering. He had to have some tough scales to deal with something that required him to have the patience to sit through painful hours of pinching and piercing.
He sat tall, with his left leg pulled up over his right knee. This caused the lower hem of his haori to spread wide revealing the teal fabric beneath the bright red of the opposite side of his kimono. The hem of the kimono was inlaid with a mystifying design that seemed to replicate the scene of a sunrise if one's eyes traveled from the hem up to his chest. The flowers embroidered into his kimono's skirt and sleeves were white petals surrounded by blue morning glories, of which stood against a gradient of white and yellow, as if a mist naturally flowed around him. But one spot, against his left thigh, looked to have a sparrow gently stitched into its surface, looking rather out of place comparatively. Beneath he wore a pair of loose hakama pants of black which were bound at his ankles with white tape, simple kyahan sandals.
All of this painted an ample picture of the man.
...he was an enigma.
Deep, claret eyes turned toward Maude as she spoke. He always seemed to focus deeply on her when she was speaking, never allowing her words to fall on deaf ears. He took his cup in hand, the surface of the glass dripping with condensation. His slender fingers gripped against the cup with an ease, but with such a delicate touch as one were holding a precious stone. His lips slowly drew back into a smile, eyes pinching closed as she admitted to her troubles. Of course it was not that he took pleasure in it, but he was glad she was speaking to him at all. Raising his cup to his mouth he would take a drink and set the glass down onto the counter without a sound.
"We all need something in life." He would answer her question concerning what he wanted, but he seemed to not give a direct answer regardless. "I did follow you, but be assured it is not for any nefarious reasons." Though wouldn't someone nefarious say something like that? It was hard to tell of the man's sincerity, but his honesty had been present since their meeting. "After all, you paid me for a service." He assured before he shifted and raised his arm, so he could reach into his sleeve to check his coin purse, a habit often born of a worldly traveler who ends up in dark and sketchy places. "You set the cogs into motion, madam." he placed his hand onto his chest, bowing his head. "Allow me to properly introduce myself, as I am not given to be called by such nicknames that present a hearty sense of unfamiliarity." It was a long winded way of saying he would rather be called by his name, than uncle, or old man. "Aleus Lyall ke Húm, but please call me Lyall, it is my birth name." His given name and title were wholly separate parts of his identity. "I am a student of the ke Húm style, and seeing as it has been passed down to me, I carry it as my title." Unless one was a Zora of a certain tribe such a school of martial art was likely unheard of. He could have made it all up, but the conviction he spoke its name with drew an undeniable line of red between him and the bond he held for this idea of a loyal warrior.
But madness could too bring forth dreams of grandeur and irrevocable pride.
His expression became flat when he spoke his names, each one of significance he was immeasurably proud of. The smirk reemerged once pleasantries were done and good. "I am not one for small talk, but they say you cannot trust a man unwilling to give you his first name, and you cannot trust a woman unwilling to give you her first name." All around it was bad manners. "I am surprised someone like you was willing to give me five rupees, though it looks like you are having trouble finding a task for me to complete equal to that." He motioned his hand to her. "But it is nothing to worry about, everyone has difficulty knowing what to do their first time. I will be patient with you. So tell me, what do you prefer to be called, if I may ask."
The man was well spoken, but he was already pacing himself with his drinks. The second, full glass would meet the desk: as empty as the first. So it would begin.....
Post by Aleus Lyall ke Húm on Dec 31, 2020 16:22:10 GMT -5
WHO DO THESE LIPS CALL?
0933 WORDS 鬼 Maude 鬼 He sort of reminds one of a sparrow.
The Zora seemed a pious man, but to what extent did reach his faith? He had prostrated himself before a stranger, humbling his existence to a mere servant despite the measure of his honor. He acted in the good will, not expecting his services to be put to use, but to those that would indentured his deeds gained more from the five rupees than they would have come to expect. His manner was gentle so as he stood it was like watching water cascade like a curtain from the side of a ivy threaded fountain. His dark-blue hair fell forward as the tall man all but loomed over the smaller Human. His smile was soft and bore no teeth as to not distress the party he faced. He pondered her words, considering a thoughtful response.
"Do we not all do what we wish? In the end it is the extent of our personal limitations that prevents others from acting towards them." In truth Maude could have easily sent him away if she wanted, but was it his company she fought or the relentless anxiety wrought by the expectations of others. "This is a good opportunity though." He acquiesced his thoughts aloud. "It is too lovely a day to spend alone in the midst of running errands." He parted his lips as a mirthful hum escaped his chest.
He followed in silent contemplation. The town was always quite lovely, but it lacked the serenity of his home. The open seas and foaming coast had been his company for many years until he sailed the calm blue rivers of Hyrule and found his true love amidst the babbling brooks and weeping shoals. His steps were light and harbored no burden, unlike those Maude had likely met in the past. His shoulders stood straight and arms hidden beneath his billowing sleeves. The ronin was the picturesque vision of an ancient warrior one read of in historical records or were sung of in bardic tales. A youthful vision that carried a weapon which was never seen until the blood of the innocent was spilled before him. A warrior of justice and ally of peace this kind of warrior often met with a tragic end or waded with tragedy at his wake. Though Lyall was neither. He was no longer a warrior in his eyes and his emotional afflictions were drawn by his own hubris. He thought there was nothing on the sea that could defeat him. It wasn't until he came to land did he realize how shallow his views were.
He turned his gaze towards Maude, the energetic tavern a haven for rapscallions, lonely salarymen, and begrudging housewives. One could find all sorts here, but as they entered it was apparent those of Lyall's sort was not the kind of crowd that the bar was known to patron. Not only was he a Sea Zora, which carried tense relations with the citizens of Holodrum but the man was clearly armed. He would wait for Maude to decide on the seating. Reaching to his hip he would grip his scabbard with his right hand and raise it above his head. With a flick of his wrist Lyall looped the red ribbon, that kept the blade bound to his obi, was coiled before he set it down beside his seat. Hos movements were smooth, purposeful. He was a wise man with an understanding of how to work with his body, as opposed to against it. His robes slipped over his bare shoulders, tattoos becoming more visible. On his left shoulder, disappearing down along his arm in what one could assume was a sleeve of the design: would be an array of hibiscus flowers in a faint watercolor style which seemed to be covering over old scars and a set of tattoos in an old Zora tongue. It was a proverb he once followed dutifully. Lyall raised his hand over his chest where the sleeve looked to have blossomed from. His fingertips tenderly trace the line down his pectoral muscle before reaching for his kimono's sleeve and neatly sliding it back over his shoulders.
"Hibiscus." He would note of the painted sleeve. "It symbolizes love and passion." He looked over to Maude, smiling softly. "I got it to honor my wife whom I shared a great passion and love with --" He looked ahead. "But chased many other flowers during our union. I was a weak man at the time, and it is something I have to carry. So I painted it on my skin that not even on my deathbed, can I forget."
On his right arm appeared more abstract, likely the tattoos Zora got upon overcoming trials as a warrior. It was of lesser consequence as he did not speak of it. But it was like that Maude did not see the other tattoo, perhaps he thought she did not. Perhaps that was the root of his solemn manner: a man in mourning of his youthful errors, time he would never win back, nor could gamble from the Goddesses. He leaned forward with a dreamy expression painting his features. He rest his chin on his hand and sighed. Perhaps behind those lidded eyes he could see his memories. Nevertheless the man would have ordered a warm sake. He needed to parch not only his thirst but the sinking feeling of his remorse.
"You must live a unique life, to have decided to drink with a wretch such as me. Enlighten me madam: have you ever been destitute? Not of rupee, or material wealth, but instead in your soul."
Post by Aleus Lyall ke Húm on Oct 29, 2020 13:45:43 GMT -5
WHO DO THESE LIPS CALL?
0733 WORDS 鬼 Maude 鬼 I will walk in your shadow tonight.
Aleus was fit. He hardly seemed to be struggling, but neither was he fat with self-worth. If her eyes did indeed travel across his person the only audacious thing he owned was the scabbard on his hip. At first glance it could have marked him more affluent than he let on. Blades were not easily owned by the poor and squires had years of training before they could earn anything beyond their training swords. Swords were also passed down, so it could have been a family’s heirloom which he cared for. It showed responsibility and a mindfulness few had. The right side of his face was casually hidden by his hair which was thin and neatly combed aside to a modest style, the left side of his hair cut shorter and brushed down. His hair was not loose and wild, the rest of the back-length locks pulled back in a short ponytail that was bound by a simple tassel of red that looked to be of the same omamori knot that decorated the black, leather gorget around his neck. The protective leather was hidden beneath his crimson kimono, which was parted enough to reveal he wore naught but a series of binding tape around his torso. Much of the outfit aligned him under the banner of a warrior, but with such minimal protection and clean robes he did not see battle so could be depended on no to be a delinquent of any sort. Discreet tattoos seemed to peek out from the right shoulder, but hardly detracting from his modest mannerisms as he sat with his pipe rest, upside down, over his knee, to disperse the ashen smolder.
His claret eyes turned up towards Maude as he considered her words. They contrasted to her sharp stance. She was defensive and her comfort diminished by his intrusion into her thinking space. It was clear she was conflicted by societal norms and begrudged his presence but neither did she curse it. It was a curiosity, but such would not stop Aleus from abiding by his duty. She gave him five rupee, after all. She had a task that needed to be done whether she knew it or not. He would tap his kiseru over his knee once, clearing it fully of its used kizami. The tobacco was not easy to come by and he wasted not a leaf, waiting until all was ash before cleaning out its confines. Blowing gently into the pipe’s end he would ensure that it was cleared fully before tucking it into his robes. Pushing to stand his left hand gripped his scabbed so it did not clatter as he rose. The movement was silent. If not for the fluttering of his robe it was nearly imperceptible that he had made a move.
“What a beautiful wish..." He closed his eyes as a soft smile drew itself upon his tired features. “If only more would selfishly provide as you have.” After all he charged for his skills. There were few who were truly altruistic in this world, but he could at least try.
He raised his arms, holding his hands out. His wrists were covered by a cloth which seemed to cover the kumpur wraps beneath. On both his wrists hung a bracelet of prayer beads. He would close his eyes and began to pray. As he stood he could almost be mistaken for a priest as his loose kimono could have been mistaken for such at a distance.
“The goddesses look warmly upon us when we give to others of our own will. And though we cannot be sure if their blessings still warm our land whenever we wish well upon another, or give to them that which they need we remember that their blessings live inside of us. So, from the bottom of my heart and soul: I am blessed by the kindness of this stranger. Thank you.” He would clap his hands together and bow deeply before Maude.
Once the motions were complete he stood, the smile still on his face. He nodded to Maude, but were she to be on her way she would find that she had the Zora following her. His reasoning was a simple one. “I shall help you.” After all she had given him a blessing instead and forwent spending her rupee so he would stay until his services were rendered in full.
Aleus had the face of a man that has come of age. His brow was strong and his jaw square. His time on this world was spent traveling and becoming stronger until he hit that upper limit that bound him to his mortality. With sword on his hip the vagabond seemed to paint a vivid image of his humble roots, yet the blazing crimson that soaked his kimono was nothing short of decadent. A soft voice carried over the warbling murmurs of travelers as bodies passed by, each one ignoring the humble traveler. His eyes would slip closed as he heard a soft voice call out: 'here'. The ronin heard the familiar clink of a rupee into his cup. He pulled the vessel close, settling the chokko in his palm before roiling it a bit, gentle as if attempting to activate the acidic kiss of a fine wine. His eyes remained close as his smile softened. He could hear it on her tone, and the force in which she had released her rupees. It was an overwhelming responsibility, despite her palatable hesitation and regret as her fingers released the gems to the thirsty man.
It was just enough to fill his jug in town, but that could wait. "Beautiful..." His eyes slipped open to reveal a familiarly scarlet hue in his eyes, but he was no Sheikah. His eyes were not the vivid ruby that had a deep connection to blood. No his eyes were like smooth clam shells, the kind often found in the shallows of the riverbeds and at the edges of brooks. It was the freshly molted shell of a crawdad or the sparkle of a brook smoothed stone. The rupee had a similar glimmer that filled him with vitality. "What is it you would have me do?" He tucked away the chokko and rupee, left hand still gripped at the sheathe of his blade, arm tucking itself into his open robes, just above his obi as he allowed the kiseru to balance between his elegant fingers, the smoke drifting up as the embers silently smolders in the narrow well.
His weight shifted on his sandals as he turned to fully face Maude. The man was tall, and not just in height. His eyes looked down to the Human, but not with contempt, but a patience that sang with warmth one would only feel at the sun's height and yet there was a sad coldness drawing lines along his cheeks, pinching the edges of his eyes with worried guay's feet. His breathes were shallow, the soft shifting of his cloth about the only indication of his shuddering exhales as he inhaled from his pipe. He took one last drag before reaching back to tap the length of the pipe on the edge of his sandals to urge its contents to vacate. Once empty the smoking pipe would too disappear into his belongings.
"After all, you paid." His voice rang once more, as if to bring Maude to the realization that she had paid for services that must be rendered. "Whatever it is you need miss. I'll do it for five rupee."
His head would bow deeply, long threads of cobalt hair flowing forward as he did so. The ends appeared dipped in red ink, but it was likely a decorative highlight. If one took a moment to peek into the loose folds of his kimono tattoos could be quickly viewed before he stood: inks of black and red that well matched his clothing. As he rose from the position his smile deepened the colors of his face from that pale, snow-like complexion to a healthier pink. So Maude had bought the ronin's services, but what could Maude request for just five rupee?
Aleus looked off into the sea of green: hills rolling up and down along the horizon as the mostly flat Horon plains were set ablaze by the light setting sun. His red kimono was snugly wrapped around his form, fingers gently cradling a lit kiseru in his left hand as it burned the fine shreds of tobacco creating a snake of smoke that danced into the evening sir: leaving the very end aglow which gave onto his features a haunting glimmer, like that of a Poe's lantern. His right arm hung between the fabric of his kimono, slung in the belly of the cloth's flaps giving him a leisurely air, which contrasted against the scabbard of his blade that rest between his spread legs: gets sandals dug against the rock on which he perched. In full view he looked akin to a hooligan, a fool that had no respect for the set laws and authority around him.
From his obi swung a demonic looking obi mask that seemed to watch the world around it. It was a haunting visage that only did to further impress the idea of a thing who waited on the roadside to assail passing going mistresses as to free them of their rupee. His face was that of an experienced gentlemen and his neck graces by a decorative leather forget from which hung a red hanamusubi, no doubt protecting him from the spite of the spirits he has damned by bringing their deaths. His deep navy hair was nearly combed a portion of it hanging over the right side of his face, shielding it from view. Deep, claret eyes could be mistook for that of a Shiekah, but it had none of the magic or mysticism associated with them. No these were drops of sun-kissed coral that rest amidst the shallows of rivers and babbling brooks. And how the river flowers for the long tresses of the River Zora was tied in a ponytail that, even bound, hung down past his shoulders blades.
He took a deep drag of the pipe, the mouth becoming a bright red that set the ends of his bangs a light with a marvelous glow that rivaled the setting sun. He sighed deeply. "With my flask empty I'll be dry until I can find another job." He lamented at the empty jug of sake sitting beside him. "I guess I can do it the old fashion way." Tucking away the empty jug into his kimono and pushing his arm back through the sleeve. He would take his chokko cup and hold it out. "Blessings, just five rupee!" He called out as he stood to his feet, resting his swords scabbard onto his hip. "I can also cute curses for ten!"
Crossing over the rainbow bridge to guide that spirit
MEMORIES OF THE SEA, A River Zora born in the sea. He has grown to love and honor the seas and rivers Nayru has provided them. He occasionally suffers melancholy and becomes distant from the world around him when he is beholden to memories of his wife and son. Lyall is pansexual, but is not given to serious relationships as he is deeply in love with his wife, though long estranged, and does not go beyond his carnal desires in terms of relationships. He is a masterful swordsman and honors the code of bushido. He carries a sword with him but never uses it, having sworn to never kill another with it until he could bless it.
• King without his Heir - Having brought shame and dishonor to his family the lonely King of the Sea seeks to salvage what is left of his dignity and searches for a way to wake or speak to the goddesses so that he could absolve himself of the misery and sins he has brought upon his family name. (Character Growth)
• Blood Drinker - As far as Lyall is concerned Aleus is an unholy blade, one which is believed to substain on blood, but Lyally seeks another way to empower the blade that does not feast on the destruction and suffering of others. He seeks a way to change its will so that he could full master the weapon.(Character Growth)
• Valkyrie - Lyall has lost his will to practice bushido, but he has not forgotten its teachings and travels the land looking to instill the art of ke Húm to the next generation. (Combat)
• Crystal - Lyall is looking for the tears of a Faerie in hopes that he could return to life to a man who deserved not to lose his. Lyall is full sure that such a power does not exist without price and it is one he is prepared to pay if it means he could hold his brother again. (Family)
• Blade of Damascus - He searches for a way to cleanse his sword of the blood that it has drunk from. He wishes to recreate Aleus into a weapon that his master could be proud of, but if he takes the wrong path it could become itself an oni that Lyall would be unable to slay. (Character Growth)
• Title - Blurb (Story Type)
OBJECTS OF INTEREST
• Aleus; A nodachi katana carved from whale bone • Chokko & Vassal; A container of sake and his drinking saucer • Kimono; A Claret Kimono he keeps on his person even if he is not wearing it
A lone wolf by circumstance, rather than nature. Starting life like every other Zora: he was an ordinary egg, hatched in an ordinary brood and one that seemed doomed to live an ordinary life. It was boring, unsatisfying and a nightmarish prospect that one, such as he, would be cursed after so soon being brought into this world. He made a vow that he could not stop until he burned as brightly as the sun! He was always boisterous, as was expected of a young Zora. Days were spent in the rivers close to family and at night attempts were had to sneak into the Lake unaided to prove their strengths. He had lived with his parents, egg-siblings and nest-mates: parents fishers. Blessed by the energy of the River the young Zora would spend his days getting into fight and his life escaping them...
It was a circle of give and take. He would stand against the injustices of the strong against the weak and it did not take long for him to gain the interest of an old warrior. This warrior took the son of a fisher under his fins and taught him to wield a blade. Lyall, as his parents named him, was as the wolfos he was so keen on chasing from the river’s edge. His family were of an older bloodline, Lyall the first to escape the role of a fisher and become something more. His father was proud. As he aged so he found interest in all things life. Drinking, smoking and fraternizing with his fellow dojo-mates, the Zora bordered on hedonistic, but always held in check by his pride and honor which knew no match.
He was training in a field at the edge of Lake Hylia when something caught his attention. A rowdy pair of Zora males had been harassing a young Hylian maiden. While it was not his business to intervene, to ignore a maiden in distress was to deny the very code of a warrior! He put himself between his fellows and the maiden, naught but a beast of scale and tattoos, more heavily marked than the rapscallions before him. All Lyall need do was place his webbed hand upon the hilt of his blade and they were scared off. He offered the Hylian aide, but she too was just as afraid, if not more so, of the shark-fanged hero. Lyall was struck by her behavior, but not surprised.
On his way home that night he found himself being stalked along the river’s edge and along the channel itself. He took off running in hopes of finding the higher ground against what he could only assume was an ambush. Oh and Lyall hated being right for turning the corner he found himself trapped by a wall of bodies. The two hooligans from earlier ratted him out to their companions. Lashing curses of the fisher trying to become a warrior filled the air with a rancor. Laughter soon followed when Lyall placed his webs upon the blade’s hold once more. The bluff would not work twice. It wasn’t difficult to understand…
Lyall could not draw his blade from its scabbard.
The squad jumped the young warrior who was forced to defend himself with his fists. While beaten bloody he was able to take out a few of the troublemakers. The very next day he returned to the dojo to question his master’s decision. To give him such a blade must have been a joke! But arriving at the dojo he found something amiss. The currents were still. Lyall rushed inside only to find that it has been attacked. A number of students were injured and a few dead. His master was nowhere to be found. After tending to those he could Lyall went in search of his master, following the trial of disturbed sand and coral on the river bed, back to the Lake. The mob had hidden itself with his master as a hostage. He was to face their leader in a duel to the death as penance for his disrespect to their younger members. The warior was at a clear disadvantage in not only numbers, but the master was old …
Lyall exited from the squad’s hideout with his master slung over his back. Swimming back to the river would take part of the light and at night even the waters were not safe these days. He set down to rest, allowing his master to have a moment. In the fight to protect his students Lyall’s mentor had been mortally wounded and it was not until he saw the blood on his fins that he realized.
“Those fins are BUSHIDO,” His master spoke, placing his bloodied hands on his shoulder. “Before you a wounded soldier. BUSHIDO.” He declared as he looked to Lyall in the eye. He knew what he had to do, to observe his master’s honor.
Lyall pressed his thumb against the hilt of his blade. With a click it drew from its scabbard. He stood, the old master holding onto his shoulders. Pulling the shimmering weapon back, the light of twilight reflecting from above the old master gave Lyall his blessing:
“ke Húm.” [break][break]
Lyall nodded. “Wearing the armor of light, you will soar into the sky.” He lowered his head and turned his blade. “...I love you master.” And with that the reborn Lyall ran his master through so that he could die with honor, and Lyall could take his place.
As the master’s body sunk to the riverbed the reborn ke Húm looked up only to catch eyes with his best friend. The warrior parted his jaws, her name caught in his throat. “Monster!” She cursed him before swimming as fast as she could back to the rivers. Lyall charged forward, but he had never been as fast as her, and not with this burden. He was unable to catch up with her.
It was too late. [break][break]
It was too damn late!
“No, you don’t understand…” His words stuck in his heart as he was surrounded by his classmates. Those who survived had a fire in their eyes and chased the murderer from their dojo. Lyall could not return… He was too weak as he was now. To naive to tell them the truth. As he was now he could not honor his master’s memory and take the dojo a dishonored hero. He would make his choice. Bidding his family farewell, explaining to them of his decision to make this journey of penance, they would depart with saddened hearts. His mother gave to him one last kiss and his father one last hug. He would travel. And for ten years he would roam, searching for his penance. He had been unable to draw his blade since that day, but he knew once he found his path he could hear her sing again. Her name?
...he named her Aleus.
Eventually have a family of his own. He was able to find another that was able to love him as he was, a broken man, but they were happy. But tragedy continued to follow him.Defending his nest from a sorrdid group of treasure hunters Lyall drew his blade, but the consequence of his battle had made the nest unstable. All but one of his brood would survive and his Bushido would stain his history just a little more. He was forced to turn to his family for help and give up the way of the warrior if only to feed his wife and remaining son. He became a warrior in name alone and worked as a bodyguard at the behest of the rest of the tribe in order to ensure their survival and happiness even at the cost of his pride and honor. He would never draw his blade, knowing, that if he did, he would only create more tragedy. He feared Aleus, but he was ke Húm. and there was no other who could tame her.
SPELL OR ITEM NAME:Aleus On his person he carries a large samurai sword named Aleus, of which he claims is carved from the spine of a whale. He never is seen unsheathing his blade, preferring to use the scabbard for defense and his fists for offense. The blade itself is a bone-white and seemed to have a pink-blue hue along the bladed edge. It is carried in a black scabbard inlaid with gold leaf shaped like ginko leaves. A red, twisted rope hangs on the end of the scabbard of which he uses to tie to his hip..
RACIAL ABILITY: [break][break] + Gills and Fins: Zora are able to breathe underwater without the help of blue dye or a breathing apparatus. [break][break] + Swim Champions: All Zora swim at ease underwater. They are fast, able to fit in narrow spaces, and can outmatch any other race in the water at ease. [break][break] - Weak to Electricity: Zora are not very strong against electricity - especially since it spreads like wildfire in water. It can be fatal if exposed to enough, and they will take much more damage than other races.
OTHER: Lyall carries with him his claret kimono wherever he goes, his prized possession. Some days he claims it had come from his fallen master, others he says it was a gift from a powerful mistress in Hyrule. Within his sleeves a chokko cup and a sake bottle of which he regularly refills when he is in town. There is also a strange oni mask in his possession he claims to be cursed with the spirit of a powerful demon he slew some time ago. It is hard to tell of it is simply a tall tale as the mask’s eerie gaze can pierce even the bravest of men. It appears to be an ordinary mask when looked at closely though.