How's The Weather Up There? -Gorlok (2/3/3): Variable Storm (augment for Song of Storms -20r) + Calm Weather (-20) + Profession Lvl 2 (-10r) +Kinstone (-2r) -Nono (5/1/2): Ease of Use (augment for Wall-Scaling -25r ) + Water-Walking (-25r) + Kinstone (-2r) It was a rather gloomy day outside, and Gorlok loved it. Those big dark clouds covered up the bright and burning sun that made him too warm all the time. It was the perfect day to try and harvest some herbs for his stew in the fields outside Castle Town. It had been a long time since he had made a stew all by himself, and all the Hylians in the markets seemed to want to charge him for insane amounts of his money. Two rupees was way too much for a bunch of carrots! Sure, finding wild carrots was difficult, but he always felt like they tasted better anyways. The large Yeti was scrounging around the field for the majority of the day, and had only managed to find a few wild turnips that he had pulled from the ground. Sure, he had made a quite a big mess of the ground, and a few hills now had huge holes in them, but he had his veggies. A few of them were much smaller than the others, but it didn't really bother him. It would all go into his stew the same, tasty. The sun was high in the sky, and just barely peeked through a few of the dark clouds, causing Gorlok to sweat a little bit. Living with the tiny folk was rough, and always too warm, but their funny faces and adorable little houses made it worthwhile. The only downside was the heat, and lack of other Yetis, but he had gotten used to it. The dark clouds told him it was probably going to rain, so he was about to head back to town when he spotted something strange in a large tuft of grass. With a small wave of his hands, and a tiny puff of smoke, his drum, Boom, appeared on the ground before him. Gorlok didn't have a single clue what it was, but he heard breathing, so it must have been alive. After sitting there for quite some time, and nothing moving at all, he quickly pounded on the top of his drum. A loud drum beat echoed around the field, surely something would react.
A flick of a twitch. A little squeak. A pop of a snot bubble. His majesty’s buck teeth nibbled at his lower lip and he grumbled something in his sleep, huffing and puffing before his little hands buried themselves deeper into the warm cocoon of his velvety cape. The beat of the war-drum was so evidently demanding that his conquest should immediately resume, his power nap halted, but alas only one ear paid it much mind; the large fan of red fur perking up from its previous droopy position to look about above the surrounding grass tuft. It looked this way, then that. Flopped a bit. Straightened. Then folded up neatly against the side of his wide head with evident disappointment. Yet it was always better to safe than sorry you see: especially upon a strange, foreign land in which he had yet to make known his royal presence, the ignorant peasants. So just to make sure it wasn’t a distant boom of thunder, King Nono awkwardly crawled closer – with as much agility as he could afford in his comfortable bondage – to his ever prickly and beloved Morth. His mouth widened, yawned, then chomped down hard on one of the giant spikes: a drool of contentment leaking forth from his habitual nibbling. “DaNa....Na...na...”
