Z-RP was created by NAVI. LEGEND OF ZELDA was developed by NINTENDO. All content belongs to its respective creators.
All images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders.
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!
The golden-haired witch twirled her parasol in her free hand, ever faster as her mind raced with ideas of this new world. Her twirling however slowed when such ideas were hindered, that foreign woman withholding more information for the moment. Eager for some knowledge, Sappho happily agreed to the woman’s small request.
‘My dear, do you know how, a long time ago, two poor little children - whose names I don't know - were stolen away on a fine summer's day, and left in a wood, as I've heard people say.’
A haunting song left those cherry lips, stirring the shades of lost men and women who had wondered about these dreaded woods. Unearthly cries echoed about the fog’s murky depths as dark silhouettes appeared beneath its hazy waves.
‘And when it was night, so sad was their plight, the sun it went down, and the moon gave no light! They sobb'd and they sigh'd, and they bitterly cried, but the poor little things, they lay down and died.’
Dead leaves crunched beneath heavy footsteps, both their own and others elsewhere. Louder now and closer still, those footsteps trampled upon the undergrowth again.
‘And when they were dead, the Witchkin so dread brought strawberry leaves and over them spread. Then all the day long, she sung them this song, "Poor babes in the wood! Poor babes in the wood! Oh, don't you remember those babes in the wood?"’
Then they fled. The footsteps were heard retreating with muffled dismay. Those ghostly figures disappeared with the vaguest of grimaces. The fog itself dissipated, recoiling from a pinprick of gold as light of day’s embrace drew the full glory of Hyrule’s fields into view.
‘I suppose you are pondering what those Woods were. Well, ponder no longer, for not even I know - they are just one of Hyrule’s wonders. Instead, I hope, madam Ariadne, that you will tell me all about your world’s wonders. I am curious if it matches this one’s.’
A smile gracing her delicate features, Sappho listened intently to this woman’s thoughts and continued sipping her aromatic tea. Her air of grace allayed however upon hearing three words, ‘Pardon me, madam, but I fear I must have misheard you. Did you perchance call this place ‘a new world?’
Painted nails tapping against her teapot, Sappho pondered anew upon this unusual woman, her thoughts voiced out loud, ‘Mayhaps you meant but ‘a new place’... Nay, your garb supports that you hail from nowhere upon the Isle. But I have not heard of anyone bypassing those wretched barriers separating us from the mainland, well, not since that fool who loosed the lunatic gods upon the earth.’
A brief silence permeated the fog-ridden clearing before Sappho spoke once more, no longer laidback in leisure but now focused intently upon Ariadne’s every word, ‘That would mean you spoke the unvarnished truth and this truly is ‘a new world’ to you. I have heard tales of the golden country and the twilight realm, resting between worlds… But, again, I doubt that you hail from those lands. Oh, tell me please, madam Ariadne, about this world which you hail from! What sort of a land is it and how does it differ from ours, though you may have seen little of this place.’
The pungent aroma of the turmeric infusion wafted about the fog-ridden clearing, melding with the hazy vapour and spreading around the night air. Sappho thought it such a delightful tea, with a curious flavour unlike any other she had tried, perhaps she enjoyed it so much because it was so similar to herself - nothing like one would expect. She contentedly sipped her tea, a warm smile upon her crimson lips as the foreign woman introduced herself. Deciding it best to do the same, she conjured a wooden stump to place her make-shift tea party upon and arose from her seat,
‘Ah, you must be from elsewhere, to not be so wary ‘round these Woods. There is evil lurking all about, even where you least expect. I could be such an evil myself, had you not considered that? Oh, but I should introduce who I am before you start wondering about whether I am evil or not.’
Lowering herself gracefully in a delicate curtsy, she announced, ‘I am Sappho. I am, how should I phrase this… the Witch of these Woods. I thought it strange that you were so relaxed about these parts; there are many well-known tales of the evil Witch who lives here. Neither native citizen nor traveller of the road would dare come this deep into the Woods, for fear of crossing paths; any person unfortunate enough to stumble across me would be quick to run away.’
Placing a porcelain finger upon her chin inquisitively, she pondered, ‘Since you did not copy their example, I must assume you are from elsewhere, and your peculiar garb furthers this. Indeed, I am quite curious, where do you come from?’
A man of words and not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds.’
A lilting melody travelled upon the chill air, the feminine voice easy on the ear, ‘And when the weeds begin to grow, it's like a garden full of snow. And when the snow begins to fall it's like a bird upon the wall.'
The gentle pitter-pattering of feet upon the soft earth disturbed the blackbirds gathered around, ‘And when the bird away does fly, it's like an eagle in the sky. And when the sky begins to roar, it's like a lion at the door.'
A cold mist followed the child-like rhyme, which held the morose tones of someone familiar with the adult world of tragedy, ‘And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back. And when your back begins to smart, it's like a penknife in your heart.’
The blonde-haired Sappho ceased her song as the foliage thinned out into a small clearing. The mist around her swirled dense and thick as she drifted silently across the forest floor towards where she could make out an odd woman chattering to herself a short distance away. Conjuring a wooden chair for herself to sit upon and a porcelain teapot to drink from, she dispelled the mist with a neat flick of her wrist and continued her previous song,
‘And when your heart begins to bleed, you're dead and dead and dead indeed. My girl, take care in unknown lands - it’s hard to skirt from evil hands.’
I would like to keep Sappho and Ashur. However, as discussed with Deb, I’m dropping Finvarra. Could you remove his canon role please but, if possible, NPC him into a Fairy advisor or some other Fairy role - since I don’t want to fully lose his character. Thank you.
hat glimmer of a smile which had come about from her enjoyment of Vanna’s presence faded into a blank look as Sappho stared at the empty abyss which had been previously occupied by that charming girl. She had not wished to set off such an easily-recognisable trap such as this - so cautious she had been about dealing with it - and yet her efforts had been for naught but failure. Unable to recognise that she had let her newly-befriended companion fall to a certain fate, Sappho cautiously edged closer to the opening black as pitch that had opened by her machinations and called out Vanna’s name. No response came, merely silence.
A strange pain tore through the back of her mind as she admitted this to herself; images poured back into her memory that she would rather not remember, but memories that she only now realised were what she had come to honour. She had been to this decrepit temple before, she knew that for sure, but why had she not recognised the various trials it presented? It may have down with the changing times, but it seemed like it had not been touched since the last entry into it which must have been many centuries ago. Further still, had she not experienced the same sharp feeling when she had entered the temple? She was trying to his something from herself, but that was unravelling as she travelled through this halls. What was it she had forgotten? What had she done so many years ago? What was she here to do now?
As she struggled with the answers to these questions, Sappho was broken away from it by an angry shouting originating from the unsealed entranceway. With eyes ablaze from the rage of losing her friend and frustration of being unable to remember why this was so irritating for her in this place, she turned to this new character in her tragedy and questioned her with no friendliness in her voice,
‘What is it, bannik?’ Sappho let out an exasperated sigh as she saw that small winged form of the fairy, but composed herself to a reasonable degree so that she could answer her question. ‘Forgive me if I am misunderstanding your intentions as mocking me, dear lady - but I am a pilgrim, nothing more. Yes, just an ordinary pilgrim delving to find this place’s secrets. Secrets I seem to have known once but cannot seem to remember. Secrets that have now resulted in my mourning of a friend. It seems that with me opening this temple, I opened the many traps hidden in its depths; traps I thought long rusted and broken that have stayed perfectly intact throughout all the centuries. And now my friend is gone, having fallen prey to them. Well, death comes to all of us, it is an inevitability... except for you and me. We must continue to live while suffering the losses of others…’
I would like to purchase an upgrade for Heaven’s Lock to achieve Tier 3/Rare.
Devil’s Weave: By channeling her magic into her hairpin, she is able to charge her golden hair with a bright light that enables her hair to act independently to perform a complex action, such as pick a lock, latch into a target etc. or further be imbued through a seperate chanting process to attain another attribute to perform moderate actions such as imbuing her hair with healiing properties to close a flesh wound or imbuing her hair with wreaths of flame that she can control.
By removing her hairpin, she releases the dense magical power amassed through the centuries, manifesting itself as a purple sheen that overcomes her hair with white lights shining within like stars in the night sky, forming a pattern similar to a sinister smile. While in this state, her hair is imbued with a mind of its own, twisting itself into constructs of monsters previsouly slain by the witch herself; gigantic limbs, horned visages and clawed wings are a few examples of the various thing it can become, the damage inflicted by each being major, but requiring an extensive chant, and draining her of stamina.
genuine laugh escaped from Sappho’s mouth, a rare sight for one who was prone to pretending, ‘It is so refreshing to hear a youth speak contempt against those aggravating goddesses, I wonder if they had known that stepping into the realm of man to enact such a disastrous plan would cause their most fervent of believers to stray from their side and view them in a negative way!’
Upon hearing the black-haired woman’s question, another hearty laugh escaped, ‘An anti-theist preacher? Do not group me with those false intellectuals masquerading their juvenile tantrums against an unfair life, with the pain that I have been subjected to, such a comparison would be an insult. Nor am I one of the many whose lives were torn apart by those divine nuisances descending once more. My life has been a series of mocking events started by those irritating goddesses. The past decade? That is hardly anything. Do I look that young… I do keep my complexion with natural products, I suppose - then again, my appearance has not changed in the slightest for several centuries. And for the entirety of that time, I have been mocked by the heavens. If anyone could have a true grudge against them, it would be me.’
sigh of exasperation escaped the golden-haired beauty who was slumped over on a tree stump. ‘Curse those vague goddesses, do they not understand how irritating for ‘mortals’ to interpret their riddles? I merely wish for my century long question to be answered, but it must have been foolish for one to expect that to be fulfilled.’
She steadily rose from her exhaustion with difficulty and headed further into the dark forest covered by that overcast sky with purpose of returning to civilisation, ‘I need the familiar scent of stale revolution to fill my head before I can decipher the hidden meanings behind those words given by those damn goddesses. After hearing those divine nuisances, one forgets the annoyances provided by mortals’ wrong preconceptions.’
She ambled along the winding path littered in rotting leaves with intent in mind to leaving nature behind, but was interrupted by an interesting magical trail; there was another individual who held considerable prowess in that field. Following her instincts, she discovered a strangely disconcerting yet normal-looking girl - an ordinary appearance in the business of the oddities which the woman with the flaxen locks encountered often.
But she was interested in the intent of this girl in intruding upon this most hidden of places within the woods, ‘Good evening, Miss. What brings you to the woods of the lost? Do you wish to bring offerings to some forgotten and useless deity, or to escape your dreary life into one of a different sort? Not that I can blame you for either, mortals do strange things on mere whims. A ‘mortal’ such as me has forgotten the pleasures of those simple and unreasonable habits.’
Deep within the desert dunes lies a grand structure known as the Dungeon. With rumours of great treasures abound, many people attempted to best its numerous trials, but most were never seen again. Years later, there have been more of these mysterious buildings found and conquered across the world, with each new one causing shifts in the delicate balance of power. Having recently been discovered, the newest of these Dungeons is soon to be challenged - but will it be someone new to acquire its untold powers?
I’m alive, and many in the Discord server have stated they want to. But certain admins are busy and occupied, so we are short on available staff. That being said, if you intend to make a profile, I can convince an admin to look over it - or do it myself.
pon seeing this, Sappho pondered for a moment, before a knowing grin took its rightful place upon her pink lips. With no prior instruction, she tore an arrow from Vanna’s quiver and ran a slender finger along its shaft, a silver light running down the line she created. ‘May the brilliant light lead the bolt true.’ A simple incantation turned what would ordinarily be a weapon unusable by an amateur such as Sappho into a mighty tool for her use, her arm lining up with the curling vine on the roof as if to throw a dart. With the release of the arrow from this position, a streaking bolt of silver pierced through the tip of this vine and unfurled it from the ceiling to fall down to the ground.
Pulling the thick vine to check its stability and anchorage, Sappho determined that it was a safe enough to use as a rope to reach that high-up ledge. However, instead of climbing up it with her hands as any normal person would, she instead looped her hair around it while reciting another incantation. ‘The serpent is that which gives power to advance forth.’ In response, her hair grew into a golden snake that intertwined with the vegetation to provide an added stability while she was lifted upwards by her glowing locks.
Once she had reached the necessary height to step upon the ledge, her bright hair slithered its way to its usual position under her hairpin and assumed its normal blonde hue. Tucking loose strands into place, Sappho inspected the turnstyle, translating the lines of ancient Hylian that followed her slender fingers, ‘A simple push is all.’ This old inscription was unlike the puzzling writing seen earlier, and almost confused Sappho with its straightforward meaning. Expecting that some trap would spring into action if she moved it too far, Sappho tentatively turned it slightly. Nothing happened. Once more. Nothing happened. Even further. Nothing happened. Round a whole rotation. Suddenly, a loud rumbling rocked the room, and Sappho sprang backwards, eyes alert for signs of movement, but she soon realised that there were no noises that she could hear, save for the sound of her own breathing. But what about the Twilight woman who had been with her?