Skyview Dungeon(PC and Quill)

The vegetation being cut off of the vine creature seemed to piss it off even more, despite having a big bullseye of an eye he couldn't tell the difference between the Hylians, all of them appearing the same. Sudenly, as if it had just given up it reached it's one remaining vine into the air and smacked the ground really hard, forcing the trio to scatter in different directions. Hopefully that would make it's next move easier. It did a full swinging motion aimed to trip everyone. When the vine got to Sec it of course knocked him over but Sec used this to get the upper hand and force the vine to be cut.

Sec landed on the ground waiting hopefully one of the heroes to attack the eye.. though if this monster was like many others it would just come back more ferocious.

The two vines were cut, the threat level lowered. Marcus darted in to the eye's left, and its great pupil followed him warily, ready for a sudden attack. Well, there was a sudden attack, just from a different direction. Loft's arm whipped forward, his throwing knife glinting in the sunlight from the transparent roof above, and the eye was pierced by its long blade. Shrieking, it writhed in the air, the vines covering the nearby hedges shuddering in pain. With a great snap the vines detached from the hedges, leaving the leafy walls shaking.

Marcus experienced a second of fear; if they all dive-bombed the trio at once, there was little possibility that they would survive. Thankfully, however, the monster seemed more concerned with its own safety. The vines curled around the eye and its stem, creating a protective shell which encased it completely. The eye could still see them through the tiny cracks between the vines, but the heroes could not reach it.

Marcus' gaze narrowed at the hilt of Loft's throwing knife. The vines had left it alone, merely holding it tightly in its original position. Marcus remembered his lessons from the Healer's Academy in the Western Caves; in the event of a sharp object piercing an eye, that object was not to be removed. Instead, the area was to be tightly wrapped in cloth, firmly holding the object in its original position to prevent further injury or the irreplaceable loss of vitreous humour. Essentially, the vines could not remove the knife, because that would cause further damage to the eye. This provided the heroes with a target.

Marcus didn't want to yell out their plan. That was generally a bad idea. However, the monster had gone on the offensive, sending the vines not wrapped around the eye and its stem whipping towards them. Loft was busy slicing them down, screaming angrily, telling the tentacle-like vines that he was not a young cutesy schoolgirl in a tight skirt. He himself wouldn't do it, so that only left one person.

"Sec," he said loudly, "aim for the hilt!"

Sec had already noticed the plan before Marcus mentioned it but the words gave him motivation to do something about it. And if not the words, the vine sweeping horizontally coming to trip his knees up. He rolled forward and avoided the vine. When he landed he decided to continue to run at the viney monster. As he neared the creature it began to direct it's aim at Sec. Sec this time couldn't avoid them all so decided to cut them. Apparently the closer to the base the vines were stronger so his dagger merely stabbed into it. Sec held onto his dagger with all his might. As the vine twirled in the air to try to dismount the hero, Sec grabbed the vine tighter and slides down onto the beasts back. With all his might he shoves his whole body weight into the dagger causing the beast to groan and begin to fade into a black smoke as it shoved deeper into the eye. Sec fell to the ground with a thud and began to hold his arm as he stood.

Sec sheathed his dagger that he had just picked up before looking at the duo and asking them "Now what?"

((I'm back, hooray! I'm a little rusty, seeing as how I've been computer-less all summer, but I tried to make this a good 'first post' for you, Chaos.))

The monster roared, writhing and flailing its appendages as Sec clung grimly on, wrenching the dagger still further into its eye. This last assault on its weakest point was simply too much for the monster to take. Damaged beyond repair, the center of its life force destroyed, the creature began to fall apart, its body dissolving into smoke and ash. The dagger clattered to the ground as Sec, no longer supported by the guardian of the key, crashed to the maze's floor.

Sec stood, taking back his dagger and looking at Marcus. "Now what?"

"Well," Marcus said, hurrying towards him, "first I take a look at that arm." Sec was holding his arm strangely, and Marcus suspected that it had borne the brunt of his weight in his fall. Marcus reached out his hand, encasing it with magical energy. He ran a finger lightly over Secc's arm, sending the energy deep into it, repairing the damage and resetting the bone. "There," he said, "all better."

While Marcus worked on Sec's arm, Loft knelt down and began to rummage around the ground. "Shouldn't there be a key?" He asked. "I mean, we beat it, right? It's not going to come back and kill us, is it?" Loft glanced at the hedges around them, evidently worried that the vines all around them would come to life and throttle them all.

"It shouldn't," Marcus said, "we did defeat it. It condemned us for our cowardice, and demanded that we prove ourselves. We passed the test, so the way forward should become clear."

"Marcus," Loft said, pointing at the hedge behind where the monster had risen from the ground. The hedge was shaking, its seemingly solid mass of vines and prickly leaves writhing in what was probably great pain. Several of the vines were turning black and crumbling to dust before their eyes, and the disintegrating plants formed lines of destruction across the hedges that were all headed towards a single point in the wall-like vegetation.

"The creature was more than just the vines we fought," Marcus said, watching the point, a large black circle now withering into ash, "these were a part of it too. They were connected, and with it destroyed..." he trailed off, feeling that there was nothing more to be said. The last bits of the vines dissolved and were blown away by the wind, leaving a large hole in their wake.

Marcus walked towards it, peering into it. "There's something here," he said, "but I can't quite make it out..." he poked his hand in, rummaged around for a moment, and withdrew it carefully. Between two fingers was a small flower, its four petals the same dull red as the creature's mouth, and the same shade as the lights of the map room.

"I think this is the floral key," Marcus said softly. "We did it." He handed it off carefully to Loft. "The guardian said that the map led us astray because of our cowardice. We proved ourselves in defeating it, so maybe..." he pulled out the map. The dots had re-arranged themselves into a new path, leading back down the path and pulling sharply to the left before fading away. Marcus smiled. "Good. We have the key, and we have the map. We're almost there."

He pointed back down the passageway. "Come on, let's go. We've got a long walk ahead of us." The dots led them down one path, then another. The map never revealed more than a dozen paces ahead, which made Marcus a little uneasy. He knew that it would still lead them to their final destination, but it was difficult to follow only one direction at a time. Without seeing the whole path, he felt like he was trusting completely in the map, running almost completely blindly. He told himself that this feeling was irrational- whether he could see the path in its entirety or not, he would still be forced to put all of his trust in it. It was only the comfort of knowing every step to a plan that he missed, the feeling of some kind of control, of the reassurance of knowing everything. He wasn't accostumed to not knowing things, but he did his best to put the matter out of his mind. He would just have to think about it as a character-building exercise.

The grass crunched underneath their feet, and they walked in a loose V-formation. Loft was on Marcus' left, and Sec on his right. Whenever they came to a corner, Marcus glanced down at the map, and nodded either to the left, right, or straight down. The paths were disturbingly rigid- they never curved, or twisted. Every cross-road was exactly the same. Left, right, or middle. The hedges were all exactly uniform, dark green with branches jutting out from the sides, threatening to scratch the unwary traveler. It was enough to make Marcus uneasy, how every path was an exact copy of the last. There was no way of knowing where they were. For all he knew, they could be stuck in an eternal loop. Every hedge was exactly the same, down to the last leaf. If they were making any progress, the maze wasn't showing it. He consoled himself with logic- the map was correct. They had passed the challenge. He had followed its instructions perfectly. Hadn't he? What if this was another test? What if, at one of the many corners, he had pointed them the wrong way, thinking of a previous crossroad? Nothing changed here, nothing varied. Every path was exactly three hundred paces long, but the light had grown so dim that they could never see the next crossroad until they had arrived at it. The only evidence of their progression were their dots, steadily weaving their way all around the maze. Marcus was tempted more than once to abandon the path and simply forge their own way towards the door, but he could only imagine at the horrors that resulted from wandering off of the map's course. They had encountered no monsters on their walk since their match with the vine creature, and it was quite possible that the map was leading them down the only safe route. Deadly dull, completely monotonous, and horribly boring, but safe.

As if his previous worries weren't enough, he had the silence to contend to. Besides the grass crunching underneath their feet, the sounds of the three Hylians breathing in and out, and the occasional clearing of a throat, the maze was perfectly still, and silent. Nothing stirred, no birds alighted atop a nearby hedge, no bugs scurried back and forth underfoot, and even Loft kept silent, biting his lip and staring off into the distance.

The silence was terrifying, but Marcus tried to see it as comforting. He tried to relate the unnatural silence, laying about them like a heavy shroud, muffling all life and suffocating their breath, to the quiet solitude of the Library in the Western Caves. There, too, silence was all around him. The crunching of leaves could be equated to the flipping of pages, the soft puffs of air from his companions like his gentle sighs as he settled into yet another book. Yet this comparison was shallow and weak. However much he tried, he could not establish the supremacy of this image; the comfort of familiarity and safety in solitude was unreachable in this place. This silence was of a completely different type than the silence of his Library. The Library was a place of wonder, filled with thousands of different voices and ideas, all buzzing with life and energy, its collective consciousness waiting breathlessly for someone to plug himself into its vast plethora of information and fantasies. This kind of silence was completely different. It was empty, void of all thought, wonder, and energy. This was a silence more pronounced than a mere lack of noise, this was a silence that resulted from a complete lack of everything. Such a void could not be related to the charged atmosphere of the tranquil Library, and the great contrast between the two made this silence somehow even worse. It seemed like a horrible perversion of something he held dear, just similar enough to make the differences painfully clear.

For fear of his sanity crumbling, Marcus stopped listening to what wasn't there and concentrated to what was. He focused on the breathing of his companions, the crunching of the grass, and the count. Three hundred steps between each crossroad. He began to count, and he lost himself in the numbers, in the smooth rhythmic steps, in the off-beats that were his companions' steps. He found himself focusing on his own beat, each step perfectly paced. Loft's beat, however, kept him from immersing himself completely in the constant step. Loft was walking without any kind of rhythm, with an uneven spacing between each one, each step landing differently from the last. It was a constant itch, no matter how much he tried to ignore it or, conversely, to focus on it. If they were anywhere else, Marcus would have shrugged it off. However, there was nothing to take the annoyance's place in his mind. There was nothing else to focus on, and with nothing to distract him from it, this small itch ballooned into titanic proportions. It irritated him, how off-step Loft was. If he was consistent in his rhythm, then he could have consoled himself by measuring the time between their two beats. But he wasn't. Each step was uniquely, horribly, irritatingly chaotic. There was no pattern in each step, no semblance of a beat. He just walked randomly, and it was extremely infuriating.

The more they walked, the more restraint it took for Marcus to keep himself from turning around and screaming at Loft. He was already throwing curses at him in the sanctity of his mind, but that wasn't satisfying enough. He wanted to physically rail and curse at Loft for walking so horribly. Only the knowledge that this desire was, quite frankly, ridiculous, prevented him from doing so. He had to remind himself that this urge was irrational, that if anything Loft's chaos kept him from being bored, but despite his logic it was still aggravating him. Marcus was forced to resort to taking deep breaths, and focus on the count. He would take Loft's chaotic walk as a challenge to his ordered one. He would maintain his pattern, and he would see the continuation of his step as a win for the forces of order, holding their own against the random assaults of chaos. With this mentality in mind, Marcus focused entirely on the count, stopping only to point down one road or another. Left, right, or middle.

297...298...299...300 steps. Marcus stopped walking. Where usually there would be another crossroad, the hedges ended. The two lines of hedge to either side both made sharp, 90 degree turns, and came together in a seamless mesh of branches and vines. Marcus checked the map. The dots stopped at the symbol of the spring. They had arrived at the door. He could have cried tears of joy at this- an end to the silence, to this Temple, and to the supremacy of the ridiculousness of their steps- but he restrained himself. Inside, he was jumping for joy, yet he allowed nothing but a relieved smile to stretch his face. It felt painful, after such a long period of grim frowning. At the center of the hedge was a small hole, just large enough for an arm to fit through. Marcus motioned for Loft to hand over the flower, and Loft did so, gingerly dropping the delicate red flower in Marcus' hand. Its four petals were pale, and they looked like they were about to fall off, but thankfully they had survived the walk. He looked at the hole, and gently placed the flower within. The vines around the hole twisted around it, and the hole sealed around the floral key. The same red light, the colour of the map room, of the creature's mouth, and of the flower, shone from the hedge, growing brighter and brighter, and Marcus was forced to avert his eyes. The light died. A large part of the hedge blocking their path was gone. A doorway was carved out from the hedge, focused around where the flower had been placed. The hedge was deeper than Marcus had realized, and he couldn't see the other side of the doorway.

Marcus cleared his throat, and spoke for the first time in hours. "Heroes first."

As Sec's injury slowly started to fade he could definately see the usefullness of having a healer around.

"I think we are safe for now," he said toward Loft's bothersome worries after Marcus had already reasured his friend.

Sec also thought it wasn't very assuring that the map only shows a few feet infront of them. They may not be turning on a dime, but such sorcery has never lead him where he needed to be.

A few hours passed of pure walking, how could this atrium really be this big? Sec assumed they were probably walking in circles all around the room to possibly ward off any unsavory assailents from getting to thier sacred fountain. Sec wiped the sweat from his brow and hunched over as the other two began to tinker with the key mechanism. The silence was broke first by Marcus who said Heroes first. Sec smirked because he was nothing of the sort. He quivered in fear as the door unlocked and began to open. Twas only supposed to be a fountain but Sec knew from experience that these things usually turn into giant birds or spiders, or even worse. Sec walked through the doors into a gorgeous room full of the clearest water he had ever seen as far as any eyes can see.

The only thing out of this place was a snarling Lizalfos in the center of the room that spoke in an intimidatingly raspy voice. "You two dare to disturb my masters fountain? He will reign terror all across this land-" The monster was cut off by a quick arrow through the skull from Sec, the monster disappeared in a sudden puff of smoke. Sec's sweaty brow lifted higher than usual in confusion as he contemplated the evil that was in the dungeon.

"Was that really it?" he questioned to himself. He was expecting some out of body experience where he would be transferred back to the hyrule he knew. He was left with more answers than he started with. Sec expected the fountain and noticed something that was attached to the source of the water. It seemed like a mechanism of some sort, but Sec had never been the most technologically advanced person in Hyrule. Without much notice, the water got even clearer than before, the reflection of the light on it's service gave a blinding almost heavenly appearance. The mechanism was some sort of evil filter, which would make since considering this water is pumped all throughout the temple.

They walked through the pitch-black tunnel, and Marcus had to feel his way through. He didn't dare to pull out either the Red or the Blue Candles, for fear that their passageway would burst into flames. Slowly, the darkness faded from an all-encompassing darkness into a heavy shroud, then it was driven back by a bright light, glowing before them. They walked out of the tunnel and emerged into a brightly lit room, and Marcus blinked as his eyes made the switch between darkness and light.

The room was beautiful. A marble pathway stretched before them, leading to the edge of a pool of water which gleamed and danced in the light of the setting sun. Pillars wound with ivy stood in honour along in the path, and the surrounding ground was covered in a pleasant assortment of grass and wildflowers. Purple, red, blue, green, the whole rainbow was present in their small petals, and Marcus smiled. Such a place was extremely welcome after the taxing walk of the last few hours. The path led up to a podium, where a statue of an angel stood, her warm arms stretched out in welcome. The path then extended back still farther, splitting around the statue and leading towards the fountain, the source of the Temple's water.

It wasn't a fountain. It was a spring. Pure, crystal water bubbled up from underneath the ground, and it flowed off into the surrounding trees. Marcus knew that the water would find its way through the Temple, supplying the rooms with fresh, pure water and keeping the Kikwis hydrated. At the base of the spring, where Marcus supposed the water came forth from the earth, lay a pattern of shining gold. There, lying at the bottom of the spring, curled around the water's source, was a golden symbol which seemed to radiate its own light. As Marcus stared at it, he found his shoulders relaxing, the tension and exasperation of the previous walk slipping away in its warm glow. He barely noticed when Sec dispatched the monster, he was too busy staring at the spiralling symbol.

"Beautiful..." he said softly. The setting sun hit the spring of water, and it turned the crystal liquid into a fiery gold. If he had been wearing a hat, Marcus would have taken it off and placed it over his heart in awe. He didn't know what the symbol did, but whatever it was, it was surely good. A blessing from the Goddesses, perhaps, or something constructed under their guidance?

He took a step forward, not sure what exactly he wanted to do, but before he could even approach the statue of the angel, something intervened. A high-pitched screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed through the spring's "room." There was a shimmering in the air before him, and a robed figure appeared, vibrating fully into their plane. The shimmering ceased, and with it, the screeching.

The figure was clothed in dark purple robes. It wore a pointed hat on its head, a white gem glowing from a belt around its base. A rambling symbol was stitched into the purple cloth. The red threads seemed to hold no particular order to them, merely being a confusing array of slashes and perplexing curves. Marcus could feel a headache beginning to claw its way into the forefront of his head as he stared at it, trying to make some sense of its spiralling, straight lines. He forced himself to look away, towards the mottled hands. They were the only things not covered by robes, and Marcus found that he would rather stare at them then at the confusing chaotic swirl. They were old and gnarled, with long, claw-like fingernails protruding at least three inches from the tip of each finger.

The figure regarded them, its glowing red eyes the only thing visible under the strange darkness between the wide-brimmed hat and the folds of high-reaching cloth. It turned, and pointed a hand towards the gently glowing symbol at the bottom of the spring.

"No!" Marcus choked, but it was too late. The figure blasted a red sphere of energy at it, splitting apart the waters and sinking into the golden curves of the rune. For a second, Marcus was relieved. The symbol remained untouched, and Marcus could hope that the creature's magic had been insufficient to damage it. These hopes died as the light emanating from the rune dimmed, and faded out. The waters of the spring stilled, darkening slowly as the light faded from the rune. The water continued to darken, even after the golden symbol had died, and within seconds it was so murky that the rune could no longer be visible. A sickly taint spread through the water, malignant and unnatural.

Marcus glared at the creature's turned back. "What did you do?" He asked.

The creature did not respond. It did not even look round. Instead, it raised one clawed hand, and snapped. The screeching sound returned in force, and three Bokoblins shimmered into being. Marcus fired up his magic. "This is the real threat," he said. "That's a Summoning Wizzrobe. Don't shoot for its minions, go straight for-"

As if the Wizzrobe had heard, it snapped its fingers again. With a grating screech, it shimmered into non-being. Marcus swore. "No!" He narrowed his eyes. "Alright then, we can play its game. Take out its pawns. It'll have to reappear if it wants to summon any more. That's when we strike. Loft, Sec, go!"

Loft charged forwards, happy to be running again after the long and boring walk. Honestly, hedge after hedge after hedge had been so dull, he was glad for a bit of action. He dashed towards the leftmost Bokoblin, drawing out his two knives as he did so. He whipped his throwing knife forward as he ran, and it lodged itself into the Bokoblin's chest. The creature staggered backwards, and Loft took this opportunity to land a flying kick on its head. It fell to the ground, gasping, and Loft buried his other knife into its head.

"One down," he said cheerfully as he wrenched his knives out of its dead body, "two to go!"

The Bokoblins were surrounding the little cocky idiot. He wouldn't know when he was outmaned so Sec knew he would have to intervene if he wished to continue this adventure, he couldn't take down the wizzrobe alone. Sec crept behind one of the Bokoblin right before it plunged forward at the blade that had his brothers blood on it. Before the Bokoblin had a chance to strike Sec grabbed a hold of his neck, choking the cretin. The green clad thief grabbed for his dagger and plunged it into the chest of the monstrosity. With a solemn whimper the second bokoblin faded away.

The remaining bokoblin turned his attention to Sec and charged. The Bokoblin was fairly swift, faster than the average Bokoblin he has faced. Is it possible that the Wizzrobe has the ability to summon extra powerful Bokoblin's as well? Hardcastle caught the monsters arm subduing the bladed weapon as the two struggled to get the advantage of one another in a grapple. The Bokoblin got just that when he landed a sick headbutt to Sexton, who fell to the ground shortly thereafter. Sec grabbed his head and began to try to re-associate himself with the matter at hand. With his head throbbing he opened his eyes to see a Bokoblin rampaging toward him. The Bokoblin mounted his opponent and began to claw away at Sec as he covered his face with his right hand and slipped a throwing knife out with the other. In one fluid thrust, the Bokoblin found a knife in his throat. The Bokoblin gasped for breathe as he fell to the ground. Sec was still too dizzy to get up, and the wizzrobe was bound to take advantage of that.

Marcus watched as the three Bokoblins fell, their bodies shimmering away into nothingness. Did all monsters do that, he wondered, or was it a byproduct of being summoned? Perhaps the Wizzrobe's Summoning magic was incomplete- the creatures summoned still felt an irresistible pull towards their intended space and time. If so, then it was only the Wizzrobe's magic keeping them anchored in their current positions, and now that the mage relinquished its hold on them, their empty husks were snapped back to their original places.

"How intriguing," Marcus thought to himself, and he made a mental note to study up on Summoning magic when he was returned to his own space and time. He gasped. All three of them, him, Sec, and Loft, were all products of summoning spells! He wasn't sure about Sec, of course, but he knew for a fact that he and Loft were. They had been pulled out of their original places in space and time and dragged through the fabric of reality towards this Temple. Having made that connection, it was even more important that he research the exact mechanics of the magic of Summoning. Now, this was more than simply an interesting spell used against them by an enemy, this was magic that was being used on his very person.

"But," he thought, "if we were summoned here, then who was the summoner?" A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he realized with a jolt that Sec was still on the ground, his movement unsure and sloppy. The Bokoblin must have done something to him, and Marcus prayed to Farore that it hadn't given him a concussion. Having to heal in a situation like this was not ideal. He quickly filed away his wonderings on the nature of Summoning magic and its relationship with the three of them, and focused entirely on the present moment.

Sec was on the ground, temporarily incapacitated. He, Marcus, needed to reach him quickly and repair any damage done. This Wizzrobe was serious, and Sec wouldn't survive unless he was in peak fighting condition, and Marcus knew that his and Loft's chances of survival dramatically decreased if Sec were to perish here. Loft was, thankfully, only a few feet away from Sec, and was holding his knives and turning on the spot, trying to keep the whole room in sight.

Marcus began to run towards them, out of both a dislike of being a lone target and out of a concern for Sec's health, but before he had gone half a dozen paces towards the statue of the Angel he dropped to the ground, his hands clawing at his ears in pain. The Goddess-forsaken noise was everywhere, so loud that he knew blood must be pouring out of his ears, the piercing screech drilling a hole through each ear and directly into his brain. The noise ceased, and Marcus looked up, panting, from the ground. He was met with the sight of dark purple robes. He looked up, up into the darkness surrounding the creature's face, the magical shadows obscuring its features and shrouding it in mystery. It knelt, its gnarled right hand outstretched, and Marcus knew he should run, but he couldn't. He simply stared in fear as its claw-like fingers touched his torn tunic, and the palm pressed flat against his chest.

Pain ripped through Marcus' body, heated fire searing his veins and sending his heart pounding in adrenaline-fueled panic. The Wizzrobe's magic was inscribing itself into Marcus' chest, burning into his skin and leaving its unmistakable mark upon his body. Its other hand reached down, and began to draw upon his chest, each dragged line burning with searing fire. When it drew away, Marcus collapsed against the ground, gasping as the mark sizzled against his chest. He looked down, trembling, and saw that the swiftly fading rune was an exact replica of the chaotic mess gracing the Wizzrobe's chest. As he continued to watch, the rune faded out of sight, but he could still feel it, burning against his own magical energy.

The Wizzrobe stood up, and held up one gnarled hand. Marcus' eyes widened in realization of what was about to happen, but there was no time to prevent it. The Wizzrobe's fingers snapped together, and the world shimmered out of being.

---Loft---

Wizzies aren't nice. He'd fought one before, and it had been really mean, throwing blue stuff everywhere and crashing down towers and making big blue wings out of thin air and sending laser beams fwooshing into the floor. Maybe this one wasn't so bad, though. It was only making little goblin thingies. The other guy was crouching on the floor, probably hurt by the goblin from earlier. He'd get better. Loft knew that Marcus would kill him if he left the other guy alone like this, so he stayed there. He didn't like it, though. The winged girl was smiling at them from five Loft-lengths away, if he had been napping on the floor head-to-feet, and Loft wished he wasn't so exposed like this. They were in center-stage of a play that the audience hated, and from any angle could throw rotten bananas and tomatoes at them.

The nails-on-a-chalkboard sound was back, and Loft watched as the Wizzie appeared, blocking his view of Marcus. Loft couldn't see anything, but he heard the screams. He sprinted forwards, but there wasn't any time to do anything. The Wizzie disappeared, mere inches from Loft's knife, and Loft was left staggering on a marble path with no Wizzie, and no Marcus. Loft spun around, wondering where they had gone, and he heard a horrible splash from behind the smiling winged-girl. He raced towards the statue, his footsteps sounding loudly off the marble and echoing throughout the clearing, and saw ripples in the clear-water-turned-gross-sludge.

Loft had no time to wonder what this meant, however. The Wizzie had returned, bringing its horrible music with it. It stood on the marble path, between the rippling sections of multicoloured flowers, its face still hidden in shadow.

"Where's Marcus?" Loft asked. For a reply, Wizzie raised its hand. "No you don't!" Loft yelled, hurling a throwing knife towards it. The Wizzie snapped loudly, and the screech was back, bringing two ice skeletons with it. They stood on either side of the Wizzie like body-guards, but they should be fired, cause his knife still thudded into Wizzie's wrist. The dark purple robes around its lower arm darkened to black, and Loft grinned. "No snapping for you!"

Wizzie's good arm raised up from its side, and it pointed a gnarled hand at him and the crouching Sec behind him. The ice skeletons, the Chilfos, advanced, pointing their spears at him. "Uh-oh," Loft said as Wizzie fled into shimmering nothingness, "you feeling okay yet?"

Sexton spat a profanity out as he pulled himself off the ground and attempted to shake the cobwebs out. He squinted a few times and was still visibly stunned but he could handle it. "Say where's Marcus?"questioned the thief with concern for his companion. Not that the answer mattered much, with or without them they only have one option, soldier on. Sec fell to a knee for a moment due to the exhaustion from this entire ordeal coupled with the injuries from the ensuing battle.

Mr. Hardcastle breathed fairly heavily before taking out his bow from over his shoulder and loading an arrow into it. He steadied the arrow directed at the frozen skeleton as Loft continues his fight. Sec wanted to wait for the perfect shot but things were looking bad for Loft so he let go of the string as the arrow whizzed through the air. Sec had closed his eyes after the arrow left his bow and began to stand once more, admittedly groggy. He opened his eyes to discover the results of his move.

((Just fight as Loft and distract him then decide when my arrow comes into play however you wish. Impacts, doesn't, accidentally nails Loft, etc. :p ))

Loft raced forwards, his feet clapping against the marble floor of the pathway. The Chilfos on the left raised its massive spear, and hurled the Loft-length projectile directly at the sprinting Hylian. Loft spun to the side, the icy shaft whipping past his form and shattering against the smooth white stone. He continued running, the distance between their three forms decreasing at an incredible rate. Loft headed for the weapon-less Chilfos, and bent his knees as the other enemy hefted its own weapon. He dove into a roll, tucking underneath the tall elemental warrior and passing cleanly underneath its wide legs, avoiding the spear's slice entirely. He turned behind them, expecting them to turn slowly and begin a lumbering attack. Instead, the seemingly offence-less enemy spun swiftly on the spot, lifting its leg high off the ground and slamming its icy limb into Loft's chest. Loft flew through the air, slamming into the path and bouncing several times before rolling to a halt.

His chest aching, struggling to draw breath, Loft looked up at the approaching figures. The missing spear had been regenerated by the left Chilfos (which was now the right Chilfos), and it was pointing the business end directly at Loft's throat. Although they were still separated by a distance of a dozen feet, it still seemed ready to drive it through the delicate membranes and muscles that comprised Loft's neck. His lungs were burning as they struggled to draw breath, and Loft began to panic as the moments ticked by. Loft's hands clawed desperately at the air around him, not sure whether he was trying to find a good source of air or comfort.

He finally found that he was able to breathe, and he drew in a few shuddering breaths. He heard something shatter, and he looked up to see that the right Chilfos (that had once been the left Chilfos, which was the one that had been threatening to turn his neck into a crimson fountain) was now lacking a spine. Deprived of this vital system, the Chilfos' body collapsed, crashing and shattering against the marble floor.

Loft scrambled backwards, doing an awkward reverse crab walk away from the remaining Chilfos. Thankfully, the archer seemed to register as a greater threat than he did. It threw its spear towards the kneeling man, the shaft flying through the air over the several dozen feet between the skeleton and the archer.

Loft sat on the marble path ten feet away from the Chilfos. The Chilfos was turning back towards him, after throwing its spear towards Sec, fifty feet away. Sec was less than a dozen feet away from the statue of the winged girl, which was standing only ten feet from the edge of the pool. Off the banks of the murky spring, a figure lay unmoving against the glittering sands. Loft craned his head to the side, trying to get a better view of the person. Was it the Wizzie?

No, it was Marcus! Loft's eyes widened, and he began to run towards the fallen figure. He left the marble path, crushing swaths of multi-colored wildflowers underneath his feet as he ran. The flowers slowly thinned to a thin layer of sand encircling the spring of sludge, and Loft dropped to his knees besides Marcus' unmoving figure.

"Marcus, wake up!" Loft shook Marcus' frame, then hissed. Sludge was clinging to his clothes in big gloops, and Loft's hands burned as his unprotected skin touched the burning glop. Since he couldn't actually touch him, Loft decided to yell. "Marcus," he said, bending down besides his ear, "wake up!" Marcus' eye twitched, and Loft took this as a good sign. "Good," he continued loudly, "now walk into the dark! Hello, Marcus, are you there? Hello, it's Loft, your buddy! Marcus," he drew the name out, moving closer towards his eardrum, "can you hear me?"

"Yes, you idiot," Marcus snapped, his body still holding perfectly still, his lips moving as little as possible as he spoke, "of course I can hear me, your obnoxious tone is about to blow my eardrum out. Now, shut up and back off, I'm trying to remove the traces of poison and foreign magic from my system."

"Oh, good, you're alive," Loft said happily, "it would've stunk if you'd died."

"I'm happy to hear your concern," Marcus said, his eyes squeezed shut, "now go away. This is a delicate process, and your idiocy isn't helping me concentrate."

Loft stood up, stretching. "Well, okay. I guess I could go help out that other guy. You know, since the ice-skeleton-man-thing is about to impale him." Before Marcus could respond, he jogged leisurely off towards Sec. "Oh, nearly forgot my stuff," he said, and headed towards the door instead of Sec. He retrieved his Red Candle, which he had dropped along with his pack at the onset of the fight, and kissed its base. "Hello again, Candie!" He said happily. "Ready to fry some Chilfos with me?"

They were better than he could ever expect, not only did he save Loft but he also took out one of the chilling enemies. If only he could have hit both with the same arrow. Sec put the mock Hero's Bow on his back as his fist impacts the ground to help him stay upright. Sec wasn't quite paying attention to his opponent and was still in a very precarious position if he were to get attacked, but what's the worst that could happen at such a large distance? An arrow flying through the air that's what. Which is exactly what Sec's gaze hit as soon as he refocused.

Sec fall backwards, forcing the spear to impact the ground inches above where his head lays. No one knows why he fell backwards, it was probably due to his fear making his body give up but we are going with meticulous calculations and death defying bravery. Regardless what the case was, Sec was alive, well, and completely unaware that a large skeleton of ice is charging towards him. By the time he actually realized this, the Chilfos was already closing in a mere 20 feet away from the green clad hero. This time Sec had a bit more time to react though. As the Chilfos grew closer, Sec was frozen in fear and at the last second rolled to the side and used his own feet to trip up the skeletal creation, forcing his head into the blunt end of his spear, cracking its icy skull but not immobilizing it.

The Chilfos' skull was cracked. Spidery veins of white crystal weaved their way through the ice, spinning around the point of impact. It lurched back, standing and pulling its spear back. In less than a second, it would hurl its spear towards the Hylian. Directly after that, it would walk forward and coolly drive its heel into the Hylian's skull, shattering it through a combination of superior force used and inferior strength.

It never got an opportunity to do either of those things, however. A plume of red flame blossomed out from its left. The Chilfos, disoriented from the attack on its skull, managed to stumble away from it just in time. Loft came in hard, kicking its knee and shattering the icy support system. The Chilfos fell to a knee, and Loft plunged his dagger into the focal point of the spider's web spreading across the top of its skull. The Chilfos' head was destroyed, and the entire monster splintered into nothingness.

The world was torn in two by something that sounded like abused cats caterwauling their dissonant compositions. The Wizzrobe shimmered into being, directly behind Sec. It lowered its hand, and Loft flashed back to Marcus' screams and gave the Wizzrobe one of his own. His knife spun through the air and thudded directly into the Wizzrobe's spiralling rune, and it crumpled to one knee.

"Finish it!" Loft yelled.

Sec turned around to see a wizzrobe appear out of nowhere leading to a cringe. Sec knew it was over until Loft yells out at him. Sec quickly struck his icy dagger into the wizzrobe whose body began to freeze around the impact. This forced the Wizzrobe to slow down to an extent that allowed Sec to slice him several more times before the Wizzrobe's entire chest was frozen solid. Sec swiftly lifted his leg off the ground and slammed it into the Wizzrobe's icy chest, cracking the being into several pieces. The only thing that remained was the head, which oddly enough was not willing to die. Sec stabbed the dagger deep into the wizzrobes skull forcing the remains of the wizzrobe to blast off into nothingness.

The Wizzrobe was destroyed. Its frozen skull had been shattered, and its dust scattered to the winds. Its magic was dispersed, and Marcus' trembling fingers found that the cursed mark had faded completely from his body. Its magic had vanished from his system, and he could now relax. He no longer had to battle the Wizzrobe's magic for dominance over his body. He sat back, exhausted yet relieved, and turned towards the spring.

He was waiting. Waiting for the sludge to disappear, for the Wizzrobe's disease to vanish from the water just as it had vanished from his skin. The water, however, did not clear. It remained dark, bubbling together in one great gelatinous mass, and Marcus howled internally. What did they have to do? They had killed the Wizzrobe, yet the water was still not reverting to its natural state. What was left to do? Marcus lowered his head towards the sand.

He heard muffled footsteps. Loft knelt down and poked him on the shoulder. "Look," he said, "that shiny symbol's back!" Marcus looked up. The water still hadn't changed, and his immediate reaction was to hang his head back down in crushing disappointment. But before he could do so, he noticed something. There was something... different... about the water. It wasn't a homogenous spread of purplish goo anymore. A section of it, right in the middle, seemed to be colored differently. As he stared, the section became more defined, and his eyes widened as he realized that it was the rune from the bottom of the spring. It glowed brightly from underneath the murky poison, glowed so brightly that Marcus had to look away for fear of damaging his eyes.

When he looked back the light had faded away. The poisonous gloop was gone. Completely gone. The spring was just a hollowed out crater of soft sand, completely devoid of any water or muck. Marcus wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. He stumbled forward, walking down the crater. He was probably the first person in centuries to touch this sand, but this thought didn't leave a lasting impression on him. He knelt at the bottom, staring at the smooth sand in ambivalence. He didn't know what to think, he didn't know what to do. They had purified the evil from the spring... but at what cost?

A cry from above made him look up. "Marcus," Loft called, "come look at this!" Marcus didn't really want to, but he walked back up the slope to join him. Loft was standing in front of the statue of the stone angel. It was smiling gently down at them in kind compassion, and its hands were outstretched as if offering them a gift. Marcus looked into her palms and realized that they were filled with rupees. He smiled slightly, and pulled them down.

"Thank you," he said softly. He handed fourty rupees to Sec, twenty-five to Loft, and he kept twenty-five for himself. The last thing he heard was a faint bubbling sound, and the last thing he saw was a fine stream of water pushing its way up through a layer of sand.

This thread is done. Marcus and Loft have earned 25 rupees each, and Sec has earned 40 rupees, unless Chaos objects. We are ready for grading.

This dungeon is cleared and approved. I liked (in a bittersweet sort of way) the amount of attention you paid to each individual obstacle instead of just steamrolling the thing. Your journey has been completed!