Forest Temple [OOT] [Quill, U5, BP]

Loft threw his knife, spinning steel shining in the dim light of the braziers. It sank into the purple phantom, who cried out and faded from view. Unlike the red Poe, no cloth fluttered to the floor, and Marcus had a funny feeling that the purple Poe was far from vanquished. His attention was called by a flash of green fire; the emerald Poe was twirling its lantern above its head. It was as if the phantom was sucking all the light from the air around it, pulling it into the lantern and holding the shimmering green energy there with nothing but its own power. The room around the Poe grew dim, and the air grew threateningly, dangerously still.

Marcus lifted his Magic Rod, pooled his magic into the crystal, and sent a pulse of magic at the ghost. The air rippled around the blast, which slammed into the green Poe. It reeled back, its concentration broken. The power being contained in its lantern suddenly found itself uncontrolled by any will, and the magic contained within it exploded with a fiery burst of green flames. The Poe cried out as it found itself consumed by its own power; when the blast faded, there was nothing left of it or its lantern but a few scraps of tattered cloth.

Amy, too... Ni'Ran whipped his head around in hopes of catching sight of the purple Poe, who continued speaking and was, therefore, not yet defeated. As he looked around, he failed to catch his target, but he saw a flash of blue to his side and reacted quickly. Rather than diving away, he lashed out, connecting his blade with the Poe's lantern and knocking the torch clear out of its hand. Rather than its kind's usual cackle, it hissed, fumbling for the item and catching it.

So that was how it was... Ni'Ran was not quick-witted nor necessarily smart at all, but by now he had figured that the Poes were empowered by their lanterns, or the lanterns allowed them to exist. At any rate, whatever the explanation, if he trashed the lantern he would take out the ghost. Now knowing his target, he went on the offensive, targeting the lantern rather than the ghost itself.

He managed to knock the ghost back, and braced himself as she came back towards him, gathering the blue flame in her torch and making it burn more and more brightly, as though she was trying to blind him with it... before she got a chance to unleash the full light though, Ni'Ran gave a loud grunt and lunged forward, all his strength behind his sword.

As the two connected, the lantern gave out under Ni'Ran's Shield Breaker. However, it had been a mistake on his part. Much like her green sister, the blue poe lost control over the flame in her lantern as it shattered, but this time, Ni'Ran was caught in the blast as well. He was slung back, his sword clattering loudly on the ground, while the now raspily distorted voice of the purple poe cried Beeeeeth...

As he pushed himself up and looked, he found himself approached at high speed by the purple poe... who had doubled to tripled in size. "Oh shit-" The two collided, knocking the wind out of the Rito and sending him flying back further, this time into the wall.

And then there was one. Three of the four apparitions had been vanquished, their ghostly forms banished from the mortal realm forevermore. Scraps of red, blue, and green now lay solemnly on the cold floor, leaving their purple brethren alone in the world. For a second, just a second, as Marcus looked into the remaining spirit's eyes, he felt something shift within him. He saw the world through the Poe's eyes, and he wondered what it must be like; to exist in this lonely manor through the ages with no-one but three others for company. And now, to be alone.

In a way, this would be a mercy. Nobody should have to live alone for all time, Marcus thought. Not even a malicious ghost like this. The purple Poe trembled and grew to gigantic proportions, flinging its enormous body at Marcus' Rito companion. He pointed his Magic Rod at it and tried to channel his power into the crystal at its tip, but the waves of fatigue that met his efforts were so great that he was forced to lower his weapon, panting.

Thankfully, Loft wasn't so powerless. A flash of silver spun through the air and sunk into the back of the now-gigantic spirit. It howled with pain and rage and faded from sight, leaving the three of them apparently alone.

"Ni'Ran!" Marcus ran over to the winged warrior, still breathing heavily. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Ni'Ran muttered as he filled his lungs with air and managed to stand on his feet, albeit a little wobbly. "Hit in the pride, but otherwise fine." What rose in his throat implied otherwise, and he held up a hand in a gesture for silence as he spat blood onto the ground in front of him. "No injuries that won't heal, I assure you. I'm used to much worse."

He put a hand on the healer's shoulder. "Really, I think I'm more concerned about you. You're our healer- we can't have you collapsing on us. We've already lost Harry." Patting Marcus' shoulder, he them looked forward. "Where's my sword... Oh." He did a double-take as Alice popped up in front of him, flapping her wings strongly but slowly, with his sword in her talons. "Thanks, lass." He took the blade, letting the Kargorok land on his arm. "For earlier, too."

This isn't over! The Purple spirit's voice said, as four normal-sized copies of it appeared and surrounded the men. Damn you ALL! Ni'Ran saw one of them spinning in place, and when all four raised their torches he acted on pure warrior's instinct, leaping forward and slashing his sword down in front of him.

One flash of light later, he held a rag of purple cloth in his hand. "That was definitely more vexing than it needed to be," he muttered, sheathing his blade.

Marcus agreed and shivered. The manor was cold, and now that the battle was over, there wasn't anything to distract him from the room's unnatural chill. "Something's still not right," he murmured, rubbing his arms absently. "There's something in the air, but I can't-"

"He's angry." Marcus looked over to see Loft sitting by scraps of red and blue, his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared down at them. "He knows they're gone, and he's really mad." His eyes stayed fixed on the remains of the spirits, but his index finger lifted to point at the stone cairn. "Down there," he said. "He's waiting for us."

Ni'Ran let the purple rag flutter to the ground, looking at Loft and raising an eyebrow at the boy's state. "Is he alright?" he asked Marcus, who, despite being the youngest in this company, appeared to be the most collected one as well. He didn't really await an answer, turning his attention to the cairn that Loft had pointed to.

The image of his deceased brother had tried to lure him in there. Was it safe to descend? With Alice on his arm, he crouched and looked through the entrance. It seemed perfectly normal to him, but then again he didn't have that Hylian sixth sense. Still, there was one significant difference between back then and right now.

Back then, he had been light-headed, confused, and almost believing the words of the illusion. Right now, he was a little vexed, but ready for action, fully alert, and eager to fight with the knowledge that Alice was paying attention and that Marcus and Loft were alright.

Marcus shrugged and nodded. "He's fine," he said, waving it off and walking with him to the cairn. "You get used to it after a while." He looked to his blonde companion, who was still staring at the rags on the floor. "Come on, Loft."

"Okay." The childlike thief rose as if pulled by strings. He walked over to where the other two stood and stopped, looking at the floor between his shoes. "They were so sad," he said to the ground. "So sad." He shivered and looked around the room, his eyes glazed as he took in the stone all about him. "So sad," he said again, "so sad here. Angry, too. It's everywhere, but especially down there. I don't like it."

"Come on," Marcus said again, "let's go."

"Yes, let's." Ni'Ran held his sword in one hand and walked towards the cairn, grabbing onto the iron bars that had been hammered into the wall of a deep pit with the other. "I'll go first. If Alice comes back up without me, for the love of Valoo don't follow me but get out of here." With those words, he descended into the well that had been built into the floor of the manor. By now, he had forgotten about the task that he had been hired for; he just wanted to get this finished. No one defiled the memory of his little brother and got away with it.

No one.

When he finally landed on the cold, hard, stone floor, he saw light at the end of a short hallway. As he followed it, he found himself in a large, circular room, the wall lined with paintings. He twirled his sword in one hand as he walked towards the middle of the room... even without the sixth sense, he felt an overall sensation of dread sneaking up on him. He felt watched from all directions, as if the paintings had eyes.

The Rito swordsman turned and twisted around several times in rapid succession, trying to find who was observing him. Finally, as he turned, he found himself staring at the ghostly appearance of a muscular, dark-skinned and red-haired man on an enormous, black horse. You will not leave this place alive, the ghost said, its mouth not moving but its words, once again, resonating in Ni'Ran's head. Your soul shall be a feast! With that, the horse leapt, vaulting clear over Ni'Ran's head and disappearing into one of the paintings.

Evil Spirit from Beyond
Phantom Ganon​

Marcus waited for a few seconds, and when the Rito's equally feathery companion didn't re-emerge sounding the squawking signal to retreat, he decided to venture forth into the breach. "Come on," he said to Loft. "Let's find out what's wrong with this manor." He stepped toward the empty hole and turned, holding his hand out to Loft, but the boy hadn't yet moved.

"He's so mad," the blonde whimpered, "so mad."

"I know," Marcus said soothingly, stepping forward and drawing the other to the cairn's entrance, "but we can handle him. We've got a winged warrior on our side, remember?"

"Yeah."

Together they took the plunge, their stomachs hovering horrifingly for what felt like eons before their feet touched down on the stone floor with unnatural grace. They arrived in the large room just in time to see a large knight disappear into one of the many identical paintings hanging on the walls. Marcus gaped for a second, then pulled Loft in closer to Ni'Ran, forming a tight ring. He didn't know what was going on, but he'd been in enough battles to recognize the tension in the air. The enemy was not to be seen, and he definitely had magic on his side. They would have to keep their eyes peeled for-

What was that? Green vines draped across the stone walls, breaking down from the surface and wiggling through the cracks in the foundation to thrive in this dark and gloomy room. A few vines bore small seeds, but Marcus didn't have time to identify them. One of the paintings before him sported a sudden addition: a dark knight galloping out of a ruined castle through frozen, desolate countryside and heading straight for them.

"Ni'Ran!"

Marcus shouted his name, and the swordsman turned around just in time to see the horseman leaping out of his painting and charging towards them. Positioning himself between the enemy and the Hylians, he crashed the sharp of his sword into the horse, meeting with no resistance until he connected with the armor of the man riding it. It was as though he had struck an explosive. A loud crackling noise resonated throughout the room as a bright flash blinded the Rito, but no explosive force struck him.

When he could see and hear again, his foe was gone and he heard the sound of hooves clopping on the ground behind him. He turned, but what he saw approaching him was chilling. With that first strike, he had apparently forced the spirit to shed an illusive cloak. It was beyond a doubt the same enemy that was riding towards them, but this time it was a shadow of the man, riding a skeletal-looking horse. Nonetheless, Ni'Ran raised his sword and prepared to strike at the spirit again...

Only for the spirit to turn around instead of leaving the painting. "Wait, wha-" He interrupted himself with a scream of pain as he was struck in the back by a bolt of electric magic, Marcus' warning coming too late for the confused Rito to process and respond to. The impact forced him to his knees, and he sat shivering for a few seconds before he finally regained his senses. "That... hurt."

This knight was fast. Very fast. The tension ticked on as they waited for their enemy to reappear, and every one of Marcus' nerves were stretched as he stared about for the tell-tale sign of the approaching enemy. Hit-and-run tactics; this knight seemed to specialize in them. It hadn't stayed out in the open for long, only coming out of the paintings long enough to attack them once. And it had attacked them hard.

He knelt by the Rito's side, channeling some healing magic into the warrior to give him a boost and wash away the stings of the magic's pain. "I can try and deflect those," he said, "but there's not much else I can do." His eyes wandered up the stone wall to the vines creeping all along the room. He could make them out this time, and as he stared at them, an idea occurred to him. He'd been studying the use of plants in the magical arts, and he realized that there was a way he could use those seeds to their advantage.

"Loft," he said, pointing to them, "get me two of the fist-shaped seeds and one wing-seed. Hurry!" To Ni'Ran he said, "I think I can use those seeds to help us win. Look out!" The knight had suddenly burst out of a painting to his left, catching the distracted Healer off-guard. He heard the clattering sounds of Loft scurring toward the wall, and he raised his hand, ready to try and deflect a magic bolt if it happened to come their way.

Determined to pay Marcus back for the much-needed healing spell, Ni'Ran got to his feet and sheathed his blade, keeping his hand on it as he waited for the knight on the horse to reach them and cast his bolt. Counting on Marcus to keep word and deflect the bolt, Ni'Ran instead leapt up, Shuttle Looping the- no. Nope, didn't work. He hadn't counted on the spirit holding a large, heavy staff in one hand, which it used to whack the Rito upside the head before he could unsheath and connect his sword.

Ni'Ran remained conscious, and the spirit had no time to finish its attack on the other two, instead disappearing into another painting. He flew to the ground, landing next to Marcus and finally grabbing his head, where he felt a bump forming. "Looks like Shuttle Loop won't work," he said, rubbing the bump in agony. "Let's go with your plan."

Despite the sudden buffering of wind that announced Ni'Ran's takeoff, Marcus kept his gaze caged on the dangerous knight riding through the air towards them. If he looked away for a second, he could miss-

All thought was immediately wiped out as reflex kicked in. The spirit moved with an unearthly speed, and Marcus barely had time to blink before an electric orb of energy was hurled through the air towards him. His hand, which had been waiting for just this moment, slashed between them, forming a blue crystallic barrier that hung like a shield between his vulnerable frame and the intense concentration of power whizzing towards him. The bolt collided and reflected off the magical barrier, shattering it to pieces as the orb was sent shooting back towards its caster. But Marcus didn't have time to hope- the spirit's speed again outdid him, its great staff smashing the bolt and sending it spiralling off to explode fruitlessly against the far wall.

Without pausing for a moment, it smashed the same staff into Ni'Ran, and the winged warrior fell dismally to the ground again. The knight disappeared into another painting, and Marcus seized this opportunity to channel some more healing magic into the Rito. "Thank the Goddesses that we didn't fight too much on our way here," he said, closing his hand and cutting off the flow of magic. "Otherwise I'd be spent by now."

The sound of rapid footfalls made him turn round; there was Loft, holding four Razor Seeds and two Pegasus Seeds. At Marcus' inquiring look, he shrugged and said something about grabbing extras. "Right," Marcus said, taking half the seeds in hand and pocketing the rest, "this'll take a minute. Just," he swallowed, glancing at the paintings all around them, "try not to get killed."

"Yeah," Ni'Ran agreed with the healer, "Probably made the right choice there..." when Marcus mentioned he would need a minute, he nodded. "Right, I got ya. Wouldn't be good if I couldn't keep a random evil spirit away for sixty seconds..." Lowering his sword, he reached for his outer thigh instead. "The problem is I can't get close. Hey Loft?" He looked at the blonde. "D'you have anything ranged we could use? I have these," he held up two of his five throwing knives, "But my aim is rubbish and I- AH C'MON!"

He had taken too long, and the horse crashed by them again. This time, however, Ni'Ran remembered to do something he had completely forgotten to do up above because he had been so focused on his Shuttle Loop. Making sure Marcus was close enough to him to not be knocked over, he focused on an innate skill of his tribe to very quickly circulate the air around him, finally causing a very powerful gale to knock the horse off course. Within three seconds, the Gale Aura was gone, and he saw the skeletal beast laying against the far wall, unmoving, its sockets empty.

You may want to hold off on celebrating, Rito Warrior. Gasping, Ni'Ran turned his head up to see the rider floating near the ceiling. Any other day, the loss of my horse may have cost me this fight. However, the soul of your lost companion has given me the strength I need to fight you alone. The spirit raised its staff, and Ni'Ran shoved his knives away. There was no time to throw them, if the spirit was saying what he thought he was saying then- yeah. "Away!" he shouted, "He's going to freeze us over!"

Sure enough, what hit the ground in the spot the Rito had just jumped away from was not the normal electricity-charged bolt from before, but an ice spell, not too dissimilar to the one Harry had used to defend himself from Ni'Ran when they had entered the manor.

(heheehe. Nice twist)

'Soul of your lost companion?' Farore, that didn't sound good. Marcus' thoughts flit back to their erstwhile companion, whom they hadn't seen since going through the room of misleading illusions. His blood ran cold; what had happened to him? Ice spread from the point of contact, and Marcus stepped away to avoid being caught up in the magic.

"What'd that mean?" Loft looked to Marcus, but the training alchemist avoided his gaze, concentrating on mashing the seeds into a pulp. "Ni'Ran, what'd that thingy," he gestured up to the hovering knight, "mean?"

Oh dear. Loft looked genuinely terrified as he asked the winged wanderer about the words of the spirit. From the Ice spell and the fact that they hadn't seen Harry since the flag maze, it was pretty obvious to Ni'Ran. Just as he tried to think of a way to break it to Loft gently, the spirit chuckled. What do I mean? it spoke, I mean that I have lured all of you to this place so I could feed on your souls. The Poe Sisters failed to kill you, but their handiwork delivered your friend to me. I feasted upon him and made his power mine, just as I will do with all of you.

"Fat chance," Ni'Ran interrupted. Not only would it be troublesome if that thing devoured Marcus and gained the ability to heal itself, the Rito wouldn't watch another person die. "I'm not quite ready to kick the bucket yet. Ganon, first."

Yes, the spirit said, You've proven to have quite dangerous thoughts. Which is why... suddenly, the spirit fell silent, instead sending another bolt towards the trio. Apparently, it decided it had done enough talking. Ni'Ran's eyes flashed back and forth between the bolt and his sword. He had heard that he hero Link could deflect these kinds of spells, and wound their caster with them. Of course, Ni'Ran's sword was a VERY far cry from the fabled Master Sword, but he had to try- the alternative was not favorable!

With a war cry, he leapt forward, connecting the sword with the bolt- with results. The sword conducted the electricity, and only the leather-wrapped wooden hilt stopped the majority of the pain from incapacitating Ni'Ran. The magic still got to him, but it was a lot less painful than a direct hit. "It's no Dead Man's Volley," Ni'Ran said, shaking off the pain, "But it'll do. Marcus, how is your magic coming along?"

"It's done," Marcus said, handing the vial of thick purple goo to the winged warrior. It sloshed gently against the sides of the glass. "It'll help you kill it. Won't last long, though, so make it count."

He turned to look at Loft, but before he did he gave the Rito one last word. "Make it hurt," he said, his blue eyes flashing and trembling from a rage that his body and tongue had never learned to properly expresss, "give it hell."

Ni'Ran seized the vial from Marcus' hand, chugging it down in one quick motion. "No worries," he said, his voice steeling over as he wiped his mouth. "That thing's gonna rue the day it crossed Ni'Ran Amiron." I do believe you mean 'Amos Amiron.' "Okay, that does it."

When Ni'Ran leapt forward, enraged by the spirit taunting him with his past failure, he found himself moving a good deal faster than he was used to. Using his drug-induced leg power, he leapt up to the wall, kicked himself higher up, and launched himself towards the floating spirit, crashing his blade through its sternum. The motion sent a wave of pure power into the ground beyond them, as well as the two enemies falling into the crater it had created. Ni'Ran was faster to get to his feet than the spirit was, although the difference was small enough that the Rito could angle his next strike. The ensuing wave of energy this time sent his foe upwards into the ceiling, where it proceeded to float for a few seconds until a third blast collided with it, sending a good chunk of the evil energy keeping it together flying.

Ni'Ran grinned under his beak. The spirit was falling apart. Surely that meant his victory couldn't be far off! Sadly, though, his unnatural power was fading fast, too. He could get maybe one final hit in... and he had to make it a good one. "And this one," he said as he propelled himself up in a Shuttle Loop, "Is for Harry!"

When his sword connected with the evil spirit, Ni'Ran momentarily blacked out. The next thing he knew was that he was back on the ground, on his back in the crater his sword beam had left before, breathing quickly and heavily. His sword was stuck blade-first in the ground next to him, but he didn't see the evil spirit anywhere. Not that he could move, really... that potion wearing off had sent him into 'You would have been knockout for a while if you'd been anyone else' mode.

Marcus whistled, looking down at Ni'Ran's unmoving body. He was sprawled in the dark crater he'd created with his magical sword strike, steam curling off his still form. "That's some good stuff," he said, shaking the vial slightly. "Think I'll keep some of those seeds on me from now on."

There was nothing left of the dark knight, nothing but a charred helmet lying forlorly in the far corner. Loft walked over to it, his steps halting as he made his slow way over to the only thing left of the evil spirit. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, staring into its eyes.

With a wordless cry, he threw it away from him. It clattered to the floor beside Marcus, and Loft sunk to the ground, holding his knees. Marcus wasn't sure what to do. Loft and Harry had travelled together multiple times in the past, and Marcus had no idea what was going on in the blonde thief's mind. He sighed and opened his pack, putting the vial into his bag, making sure to drop the leftover seeds in it. They'd come in handy later. His body felt so slow, so heavy. Every movement was a labor.

A scuffling sound made Marcus look up. Loft was crawling across the floor, scooting along the ground and pulling himself back towards the helmet. He took it his lap, kneeling on the cold tile, stuck his hands in his mouth, and began to whistle. The song that came forth was low and slow, comforting and bittersweet- it made Marcus' shoulders sag and his eyes close. Wind began to blow, and he opened them again, his breathing steady for the first time in probably hours. A blue light was curling out of the helmet's eyes, ethereal and wondrous; it gathered itself together and shone bright as a hundred torches. A man hovered above the black helmet, his form shimmering with a thousand tiny flecks of blue light. He was only there for a second- he smiled, nodded, and then he was gone.

The song ended. Loft took the helmet in his hands, and Marcus looked away, making sure his pack was completely closed. He noticed Ni'Ran was awake, and he crouched down to address him. "How are you feeling?"

[[Hey, did we ever get permission from Ultra5 to kill off his character? If not / we can't get it, I guess we could always say that PG lied through his ghostly teeth, and the man was anyone from another victim to PG himself.]]

"I've been worse," Ni'Ran said, finding the strength to lift his arm and drape his fingers over his face. "I've definitely been better though." Shakily, he sat up, turning his head so he could look at the sword in the ground. Yeah... he was gonna need some time to regain his strength before attempting to pull that out. "What the heck was that potion?" he asked, "Magic's got nothing on that stuff!" He bit back a 'I'll take twelve,' no matter how helpful they would be in battling Ganon's more powerful minions. He had to grow stronger on his own, or this goose chase would be meaningless.

Besides, the meltdown was not something he was keen to experience again.

Still sitting up, he turned to Loft. "Hey, Loft? You alright over there?"

OOC (open) OOC (close)

Wait wait, we need permission to do that? Why does nobody tell me these things?

In all seriousness though, I assure you I didn't put that in without thinking. Before actually doing this I spoke to U5 about it on gtalk. Transcript of that conversation:
Me: In the Forest Temple, can I say that Phantom Ganon devoured Harry's soul when he got lost in the Haunted Wasteland illusion?
U5: …um okay.
Me: It would add a little bit more depth to the thread.
U5: Okay. Sure. I may come back eventually, but it would be with Jacob anyways.

There’s also the questionable semi-canon status of Classic Dungeons as they are, and there's the option that the fat old Boss was bluffing all along, so all in all I didn’t think this would cause trouble at the time, and I still don’t.