Pirates' Fortress

Marcus: 0r
Loft: 50r - Ring of Silence = 0r

(No fancy plots or character introspection; just feel like a basic dungeon run)

Seven eggs. Marcus' eyes swept across the empty room, his head poking out slightly from behind the doorway. There were seven Zora eggs in this fortress, seven eggs that had all been stolen from a popular artist and her husband. Marcus had been in the area, and when he'd seen her pleading in the Domain for help, he'd volunteered to go into the pirates' hideout and steal the eggs back.

Beside him, crouching behind the corner, his Bunny Hood ears flopping gently in the Bay breeze, was Loft. He could be sneaky when he wanted to be, and Marcus had travelled with the strange thief long enough to know that he could trust him. Well, not with anything complicated, but he didn't worry about Loft stealing his stuff and running off into the night.

"All clear," Marcus whispered, "let's go." The two of them dashed through the room, quickly making their way across the carpeted floor and ducking into the next hallway. The mother had given them a map of the fortress, and the locations of the eggs were labeled with gently glowing blue dots. Apparently she'd had the map enchanted by the local wise woman.

While Loft looked down the hall, keeping an eye out for Gerudo, Marcus ran his finger along the parchment. "Here," he said quietly. "The first egg is down the hall and to our left."

"Incoming," Loft hissed, pulling his head back and jostling to stay out of sight. "Evil red-head at twelve o'clock!"

"Alright. You remember what to do?" Both their heads were pressed against the corner, breathing deeply as they used their Hylian Sixth Sense to try and track the Gerudo on the other side of the wall. It wasn't exact, but it was enough.

"Be smart and follow quietly?"

Marcus pulled out his Magic Rod. "Right." He took a deep, steadying breath an turned the corner, pointing the magical weapon at the patrolling Gerudo. She instinctively threw herself into a somersault at the sight of an armed intruder, but Marcus waited for her to finish the movement before firing off a wave of energy.

Unconscious, she slumped to the ground. Marcus and Loft hauled her into a nearby crate and closed it, quickly moving on down the hallway. From what they knew of these particular Gerudo, they believed that the woman warrior wouldn't report them the moment she awoke. They were proud warriors with a very individualistic mindset, and they doubted that she would report her failure.

They hurried down the corridor and turned into the room with the first Zora egg. There it was, floating in a small tank of fresh Bay water. Unfortunately, there were two Gerudo guarding it. Marcus and Loft raise their weapons and prepared to fight.

The red-haired amazons had their scimitars up before the two Hylians could do more than blink. Loft tossed down a Deku Nut, but it only blinded the warrior on the left. The second guard lifted her scimitars and blocked the light; she continued charging towards Marcus.

Marcus pulled out his Magic Rod and concentrated. He remembered the frustration of impotency he'd felt in the undergrounds of the Ancient Cistern, where he was unable to lift a finger to aid his comrades. He channeled this frustration into the crystal at the rod's tip, filling its clear depths with swirling violet gas.

The Gerudo was nearly on him; she had closed the gap between them; she was raising her scimitars high-

A diseased ripple of air burst from the end of the Rod, slamming into her chest and rippling across her form. Her scimitars dropped from her numb hands and clattered against the ground. She raised her arm to strike at him, but it froze in midair, trembling. Completely impotent, she was easily knocked out by the hilt of Loft's dagger. She joined her unconscious brethren on the floor.

The two Hylians dragged the women into a nearby closet and pushed them in, closing the door on them. They gently bottled the Zora egg, checked the map, and left the room. One down, six to go.

The next three eggs were in the same room. It was lavishly furnished with crimson and gold carpets, elaborate tapestries, and foreign incense.

"Ooh," Loft said, "fancy."

Marcus agreed quietly. "This must be the room of someone very important," he said. The three eggs were in three separate tanks, and his analytical eye noticed that they were all positioned equidistant from each other and the center of the room. He felt his respect rise for the room's occupant, despite his indignation at her crimes.

"Intruders," a female voice said quietly. The two Hylians jumped and whirled around. The door was closed- when had that happened?- and standing before it was a Gerudo dressed in the purest of whites. "Trespassing in the shrine of our late mistress. They will die for their crimes."

With that chilling introduction, she raised her scimitars and darted in with the silent speed of a striking snake. Loft threw down a Deku Nut, but she smacked it out of the air, and it exploded harmlessly against a far wall. Marcus shot a blast of tainted energy at her, but she flipped over it.

Before she could attack Marcus, Loft jumped in, knives flashing and whirling through the air. The two met, she with her scimitars, and he with his knives, but it was far from an even fight. The Gerudo was far more skilled than he, and her weapons were innately superior. Loft was struggling to hold her back, and she pressed her advantage, feeling the relative lack of experience with every step they made. Marcus wanted to help, but the two were darting about so much that he was afraid of hitting the wrong person.

The dance was broken. Loft spun with both knives outstretched, twirling like a ballerina and trying to create a whirling barrier of blades, but he spun too hard and became off-balanced. Sensing weakness like a shark scents blood, the Gerudo ducked under his knives and slammed a foot into his chest.

Loft staggered back, and the only reason the Gerudo didn't end him there was a sudden ripple of energy Marcus sent her way. She avoided it again, but it bought Loft enough time to gather himself. The woman in white turned back to the thief, holding her scimitars up and looking unimpressed.

"Is that all?" Her voice was still quiet, and it sounded almost completely uninterested. "This will end soon."

Loft dropped his knives. The ears on his Bunny Hood wobbled. The Gerudo approached slowly, wary of the unexpected move and even warier of a relaxed, still prey. Then, without warning, she struck.

She was fast. Her body moved like molten bronze, flowing from one point to another with deadly speed. Her muscles, trained by years of hardship and combat, coiled and uncoiled with a precision and accuracy most fighters would envy. The blood of warriors flowed in her veins, and her skills were forged in the fires of the fight. Such was her speed that, when she lunged towards the still thief, her blades were little more than shining blurs in the light streaming in through the window.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The boy before her moved out of her way with easy grace, his form dancing to the side with an unnatural speed that she, even with her training, could not match. The strange ears he sported atop his head bounced and shifted, the eyes on their hood twinkling at her in laughing spite. He dashed back into the fight, and she quickly raised her scimitars back up into a defensive position. But where she had once held the advantage, now it was the boy who pressed the attack. Now it was she who struggled to keep up. Though he fought unarmed, she felt herself fully focus on the fight for the first time.

She swung her blade at his head, but he ducked under it. She immediately brought up her foot into a slashing kick, but he twisted around that. She spun and sliced her second blade straight down, but his hand came up and brushed her wrist away. Before she could truly register what had happened, she was being shoved onto the ground, his foot resting on her throat.

Marcus stepped forward, seeing her relinquish her hold on the scimitars, and kicked them away. Loft hopped off her throat, grinned, and tapped his hood. Her face twisted in anger. "Magic," she spat. "Magic and trickery! You did not fight honorably, intruder!"

Loft pouted, picking up his dropped knives. "Well," he said, "you used really long knives. That wasn't fair either!"

"Come on," Marcus said, gathering the three Zora eggs in a bottle and stepping towards the door, "we have more eggs to save."

Loft shrugged to the Gerudo and skipped over to Marcus. "I just had better friends to back me up," he said cheerfully to her. "Bunny helped me out," he said, running his hand along his ears and making them wobble happily. "But you fought alone and friendless," he said sadly, "so you no win. Sorry!" And with that, he bounced out the door and followed Marcus down the hallway, leaving the red-head woman to her thoughts.

Three fingers. A jiggle of a bottle holding a Zora egg. A finger pointing down below the balcony. One raised finger, which was then pointed down again. Marcus looked expectantly at Loft, who nodded. Three eggs left, and one was below them. Down under the balcony they were lying on, their stomachs pressed against the dusty metal. Down where the pirates were eating.

It was easy enough to see the egg. It rested in a little tank in the center of the room, on what must be the head table. It was a trophy to them, apparently. This made Loft mad, since there were little fishy babies inside the eggs, but Marcus wouldn't like it if Loft did something without the Healer telling him to, so he restrained himself.

There was a beehive hanging in the rafters above the dining hall, hanging so far up that even from the balcony where they lay, the buzzing of the busy bees in the beehinve was barely audible. It rested right on a rafter, which meant that it was completely invisible to anyone who wasn't skulking around on the balcony above the mess hall. Loft nudged Marcus, pointed to it, and mimed throwing a Deku Nut. Marcus hesitated for a few seconds, thinking it over, and then nodded. Loft did three practice throws and tossed it at the beehive. It connected, falling to the ground with the hive and smashing against the floor in the center of the room. The crack of the nut mixed with the crack of the hive, and the bright flash of light was quickly forgotten as dozens of wasps- not bees, as they had thought- poured out of the hive and attacked every pirate in sight. The Gerudo fled the room, screaming as they were attacked again and again, and the flying insects followed them out.

"Go, Loft," Marcus hissed. "Get it!"

Loft lowered himself over the balcony and walked slowly down the wall with his amazing gravity-ignoring skills. Soon he had reached the ground, and he jogged quickly over to bottle the egg floating in the trophy case at the head table. Something shiny caught his eye, though. It was a small ring, and the only thing decorating it was a tiny engraving of the word 'shhh' on the inside. Loft liked it, so he put it on and headed back over to where Marcus was waiting. Nobody was coming back yet, but he didn't want to push his amazing fortune.

"Got it?" Marcus' question was a cautious hiss.

"Yep," Loft said, handing him the bottle. "Two left! And look," he said, brandishing his finger at Marcus, "I got a new toy!"

"That's nice," Marcus said, not really listening. "Come on, the next egg is this way."

That was so shiny. It made Loft's eyes tear up- it was that beautiful. The bronze statuette of the Sand Goddess, her arms outstretched to take all before her into her grasp, called to the blonde thief like chocolate pudding called to a sugar-deprived candy-holic. He couldn't resist her; she was just too strong. The way the light glimmered off her shining arms; the detailed curve of the snake winding around her body; her ruby eyes shining powerfully in the dimly lit room... could Loft really be blamed for what he did?

"Loft, no!" Marcus' hiss fell on deaf ears. Loft was already running over to the small statuette, running his hands over it and pulling it off its pedestal. The effect was immediate. The icon of the godess began to shake, and Loft dropped it out of surprise and fear. It clattered to the floor and began to howl, one long, high, piercing note that made Marcus claw his ears in pain. Loft scrambled to pick it up.

The moment he took it into his hands, the sound ceased. It continued to shake, and its mouth was still stretched wide in a scream, but the ear-splitting screech of before was gone. In its place was a small, continuous beep, barely louder than a breath of wind. Loft glanced at Marcus and set it back onto the pedestal. The resulting scream of agony and rage made Loft nearly fall over. He grabbed it again, and it was suddenly as if the sound was coming from a far way off.

"Let me see that," Marcus said, reaching for it. Loft handed it over, but the moment the statutette left his hands the scream was back in full force. "Take it back," Marcus said, all but begging as he threw it back to Loft. The room quietened again. "Just... just hold onto it," he said. "It may come in handy."

"I think it likes me," Loft said.

"Whatever the reason," Marcus said, crossing to the door, "but there'll be guards here soon. They'll know there are intruders whether we put it back or not, so we need to hurry. The last two eggs are this way. We need to get them and run away as fast as we can."

"Fancy," Loft said. Marcus had to agree. They were standing before a large archway, and from its top hung a magnificent tapestry, embroidered in the finest threads of crimson and gold. The tapestry was split down the middle, allowing visitors to push aside the cloth and pass through the watching eyes of the Gerudo warriors it depicted. "Can we take it with us?"

"No," Marcus snapped, stepping forward. He was feeling irritable, justifiably so. Not only was he stressed beyond belief by the prospect of stealing from a fortress of infamous thieves, but the statutte was still sounding its muffled cry. It floated on the edge of consciousness, screeching away at the healing alchemist's sanity and making him scowl at everything he saw, no matter how beautiful or rare.

He lifted the cloth and hissed, dropping it.

"What," Loft asked, "more red-heads?"

Marcus nodded. "Let's get rid of that statue," he said. "We can throw it down the hall and use it to distract them." He pulled Loft into a small cubby, and Loft chucked the statuette as far away from them as he could. The sounds of it clattering against the stone floor were utterly lost in the piercing scream that immediately exploded from the bronze figurine's mouth. From within the rom, Marcus heard the sounds of swearing and pounding footsteps. He ducked back into the cubby and listened to the warriors race down the hall, chasing the statuette and cussing at the top of their lungs.

"Quick," he said, "go go go!"

((Just as an FYI, I'm writing all this from my phone. Sorry if there are some grammatical mistakes.))

They burst into the room, the wailing screech of the bronze idol following them and quickening their steps, filling them with an anxious speed that made the two Hylians scramble across the ornate room with reckless abandon. Loft, his body being powered by the hood flopping on his head, reached the two fish tanks first. They were set on either side of a large chair, its dark wood painted in bright, vivid hues of battles long past.

"Bottles," Loft said, "I need bottles!" Marcus grabbed two from his bag, his fingers fumbling over the clasps, and tossed them to his companion. He missed, but Loft was quick enough to catch them before they fell on the heavily-carpeted floor.

He scooped the two eggs from the tanks and dashed back to Marcus. "Got 'em," he said, breathing a little heavily, "let's-"

"Go?" The feminine voice made them both whirl 'round. A Gerudo stood before the tapestry door, her ice-blue dress creating a sharp contrast with the crimson cloth behind her. "I don't think so."

"You've made quite a mess," she said, moving slowly towards them. Her icy robe flowed around her as she advanced, her body relaxed and unconcerned as she came ever closer. This scared Marcus more than anything else that day, and the fear was tinged with anger; they'd come so close to escaping. So close! All seven eggs were within their grasp; victory and safety were so close, he felt he could've almost reached out a hand and touched them.

"Breaking in," she said, her eyes glimmering as she stepped around a large reclining couch, "that's one thing. Stealing the eggs," she shrugged lightly, "doesn't bother me too much. I was content to simply sit back and watch you two imbeciles clomp about, but then," she sighed and stopped. Even though she wasn't moving, her robe continued to flow around her.

"Then I find this lying against a wall." She pulled out the bronze idol, which was no longer screaming. Its mouth was closed, and its ruby eyes seemed to glare at the two Hylians with a promise of swift retribution. "Do you know how it got there?" Then, without waiting for a response, she said, "it was thrown by two irreverent Hylians, who thought that they could use a sacred idol of my people as a cheap distraction. To get at a few fish eggs."

She set the statuette down carefully on an oak table and turned, her Gerudo eyes flashing in the room's light. "I can't ignore that. Nor can I allow you to leave this room alive. You have insulted my deity, my people, and my work. Your death will be slow, and I will make it as painful as my Goddess allows."

Marcus realized two things in quick succession: first, the Gerudo was an ice mage; second, their odds of victory were as slim as a platter of jell-O's when faced with a famished Loft.

The first was an easy conclusion to reach. It was obvious that she focused in ice magic when she froze their feet to the floor.

The second conclusion only took about ten seconds to realize. While he and Loft struggled to break the frozen bonds binding them to the floor, she snapped her fingers and conjured a dozen spears of ice from the air. Her power was such that Marcus could actually feel her reach out with her magic and freeze the moisture in the air, gathering the water and forming it into a dozen projectiles of death.

Loft was the first to get free. He bounded over to Marcus and began to smash at the ice holding his companion down. The Gerudo sent the spears flying towards them, and Marcus barely managed to conjure a reflective shield in time.

All twelve spears slammed into the spell in exactly the same moment. It shattered into a billion pieces, but its nature was such that each spear was sent back to its maker. Marcus sent up a prayer of thanks to Farore that the witch hasn't staggered her attacks; if she had, his shield would have shattered after the first spear, and his body would have been impaled by the other eleven frozen projectiles.

The Gerudo waved her hand, and each spear dissolved, the water within returning to the air to await her bidding. "A clever trick," she said, "but how long can your parlor magic stand against me?"

She knelt down and pressed one hand against the wooden floor. Marcus' feet were finally freed, and he and Loft sprang back as a wave of ice spread out from her fingers, climbing up each piece of furniture and sweeping across the room with alarming speed.

Loft immediately pulled out a throwing knife and hurled it at the kneeling witch. She conjured a shield of ice to protect herself, and the knife clattered off its surface without doing any damage. Still, she was forced to abandon her earlier spell. Around her was a perfect circle of ice, one that crystallized every object on the floor within it, and Marcus feared what would have happened had Loft not broken her concentration.

They needed a way out. As the witch pulled fistfuls of freezing energy from the air, Marcus knew that there was no way they could win this. Survival was their only hope.

His eyes fell on the bronze idol. He pulled out his Magic Rod and sent a blast of energy at the witch, who spun away. She easily avoided it, but Marcus hadn't meant it to land. He dashed towards the table, slipping a little on the ice, and grabbed it. He skipped back to Loft, the idol again screaming in rage, and told the thief to pull out his Candle.

The witch's cries of hatred stopped the moment he held the idol above the Red Candle's flames.

"You know what this is, right?" Marcus had to scream to make himself heard over the statuette's screech. "You know how hot this flame is? If you don't step aside, I'll melt it."

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed. "Your skin would be flayed from your bones; my sisters would make your blood bubble and burn; I would freeze every one of your fingers, toes, arms, legs, ears, and snap them off, every single one. You wouldn't dare-"

Without a word, Marcus lowered the statuette into the flame. The bronze idol's renewed scream was matched only by the scream of the witch who, Marcus guessed, was probably a powerful and devoted priestess.

He lifted the idol out of the flames; the witch's eyes were glued to its base, where the bronze had already begun to shimmer.

"Let us go," Marcus said, his heart thumping so hard that is chest hurt, "or say goodbye to your goddess."

"Give it to me," she said, her hand outstretched. "Give it to me now, and I may let you live."

"That's not good enough," Marcus said, shaking the statuette slightly. "You let us go, and when we're away we'll give this back."

The witch laughed, a manic shriek that pierced through the idol's cries and made Loft shift uncomfortably beside Marcus. "I don't make bargains, Hylian!"

"Then you're not much of a priestess," Marcus said, "if your goddess isn't that important to you."

Her nostrils flared, and the air around her clenched fists shimmered. Marcus knew that she longed to strike out, to hit them with so much power that they would be blasted off the face if the earth. But he also knew, afraid as he was, that she didn't dare do anything that may harm the idol. So he waited.

"Know this, Hylian," she hissed, "if I, or any of my sisters, ever see you, your death will be slow. We will make you rue the day your mother met your pig of a father. And if we don't find this; if you leave and are foolish enough to keep or harm the idol, we will hunt you down. And when we find you, death will be the one thing you beg for and the one thing you will never receive."

"Here," Marcus said, setting the bottles down carefully on the table before him. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, so tired that he was barely touched by the Zora mother's cries of thanks and sobs of joy. He pushed away the rupees offered to him and turned to his companion, who was gazing off into space. No doubt he was envisioning his next meal. Marcus couldn't blame him; he was doing the exact same thing. He couldn't wait to wash off the sweat and dirt of the day, to wolf down platters of steaming food, and to finally collapse in a nice, soft, warm bed.

"Let's go," he said to Loft. The boy jumped a foot in the air, but strangely enough, there was barely a sound when he landed. Marcus' eyebrows knit together. This was the home of a talented musician; the room was so well designed, acoustically-speaking, that every step Marcus had made coming in had echoed impressively off the walls and ceiling. And yet Loft's heavy landing on the cavern floor barely seemed to reach his ears at all.

His eyes widened as he saw the newly-acquired ring glow on Loft's finger. "Loft," he said, reaching out a hand, "let me see that ring for a second."

The moment that ring fell into Marcus' hand, the statuette in Loft's bag began to shriek like some dark creature from the depths of the earth. The Zora mother, who had been busy sobbing over her eggs, jumped and added her own screams to the idol's. The walls of the cavern bounced their cries back and forth, amplifying them and sending them drilling straight into Marcus' ears. The healer fell to his knees, clutching his head as the sound sent waves of pain spiking through it.

He seized Loft's hand and forced the ring back onto his finger. The idol's shriek was immediately muffled. The Zora woman sank over the table, hugging her bottles to her and crying. Marcus and Loft stayed on the floor, gasping for breath.

"The ring," Marcus said finally, after his heartbeat finally returned to normal, "it has to be that ring. It must be magic- some kind of silencing charm or something. That's why the idol-" he glanced at Loft's bag- "well, you know."

Loft nodded, his hand on his chest. "It was never me she wanted," he said, "it was always about the ring."

"That's how it usually goes, Loft," Marcus said dryly, "now come on." He smiled apologetically at the Zora. "We've intruded long enough."

Silly bird-brain! Loft giggled, watching the ruffled postman puff up his feathers and zoom off into the skies. "Have fun," he said, waving merrily, "say hi to the ice pirate for me!" The shrieks of the idol gradually faded into the distance as the Rito grew smaller and smaller, and eventually, they were both gone completely. Loft couldn't see them at all. "Marcus," he said, tilting his head slightly, "They're gone. I can't see them anymore- are they still there?"

"What?" Marcus turned his map upside down, glaring at it. "Who wrote this? This isn't the right way at all?"

"Marcus," Loft continued, "if they're gone, who's going to give the Gerudo their idol back?"

"I'm not answering that," Marcus said, folding up the map and pocketing it, "because even small children know that things continue to exist regardless of their continued perception."

"I don't know what that means," Loft said, skipping ahead and turning around to face Marcus, "but I'm glad I got this cool ring." He held up a finger, showing it off. Despite the leaves underfoot, his skippings made barely a sound. Marcus, on the other hand, was tromping across the field with less grace than a Dodongo. Oh well, Loft thought. Not everyone could be as cool as him. They wished they were, though.