A shaded, woven carpet of sunlight laid gently on a bed of leaves, hugging the ground of the outer skirts of Woodfall's forest. The quiet, tranquil nature songs of the forest creatures and the wind through the tree's branches was cadenced by the soft footfalls of a traveler on the worn dirt path of the woods. Luneth sauntered down the forest road, swatting to keep flies from his face but more than happy to exchange the blistering sun of Hyrule field for a few pesky bugs. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking deep into the unfamiliar greenwood and surveying his surroundings. He'd heard tale of towns just beyond the Lost Woods but was unwilling to gamble his fate on the unsympathetic, smiling trees that absorbed travelers into their dark boughs. He'd decided to cross through the fenland of Woodfall and hug the coastline on his way down to the Hyrulean Peninsula, avoiding the Lost Woods altogether. But as he stepped through the doorsill of the taiga, he began to have second thoughts about the whole plan, and his thoughts began to return to the warm, comforting desert that he had called home for many years. Luneth was not given time to bask in sunny recollection, as the wounded cry of a man hurt bounced off of the trunks of the trees and into his ears. His hand flew to one of his Ssanggeom and his eyes widened, rapidly searching the trees in a vain attempt to isolate where the sound came from. A more urgent, muffled shriek rang out from what he thought was the northwest, and ignoring the general traveler's rule of "never leaving the path", he sprinted into the trees towards the shriek. The trees drew darker around him as the ground grew softer, the leaves changing from the crisp green of the outer reaches of the forest to the dark, decomposing brown of the wetlands. He burst into a clearing after a minute or so and looked around, bewildered and searching. His eyes found the source of the sounds; a body, lying on the ground, a pool of scarlet life draining out of a wound in its chest. Hunched over the corpse was a smaller-than-usual Moblin, spear in hand, and a small blue Octorok beside it. Luneth's eyes narrowed, and he drew his right blade, removing his father's mirror shield from his back and holding it in his left hand. He hadn't entered the clearing quietly, so he realized he'd have to take control quickly. "You there! Moblin! Freeze, and don't move an inch if you don't want to die." He pointed his blade at the Moblin while keeping his shield up and ready, in case that Octorok decided to go on the offensive.
The usual veil of coy bewilderment couldn't enough cover his face for the sake of this scene, like a square of cloth too small to make anything of use. A pattern of shock, stitched with anxiety made up the rest of his expression, completing a look of mixed emotion and uncertainty on the swine-flesh face. Griskin hovered over the body, eyes flickered across images of sunset blood. A lone body in the woods, crumpled amidst a bed of old leaves, silent as a rock. Somehow, this inexplicable, poor man's fate was far more terrifying that the sight of Hyruleans fighting and dying in one minute. The Moblin's conspicuous figure didn't concern him, until a brash shout from behind him galvanised his muscles. He swung around clumsily, keeping his spear clutched to his belly with both hands, eyes still alerted and overflowing with double surprise. Grudd was the first to act. Eyes taut with pure hate, the amphibian rattled and hissed, and fired two rounded stones at the intruder - products of the Octorok's normal welcome. The projectiles bounced ineffectively off the Hylian's predestined shield. Grudd huffed and twitched. "This..." Griskin made his own shield from the palm of his hand, raising it to defend his eyes from the light reflected by the Mirror Shield, which penetrated his vision like an interrogation. A glance back at the body, had the man even been armed? Squinting in the pure sunlight, streaming preternaturally towards him, Griskin fixed both hands back onto his spear. Could this stranger have been the perpetrator? Between himself and a possible murderer, Griskin was not about to take any chances. In a voice mixed with organic Moblin grunts and underlying fear-filled squeals, he composed himself a little more before the man. "I... I don't want to fight, but I won't let you kill me too!"
The blows from the Octorok's mouth ricocheted off of the Mirror Shield and flew into the trees, the force digging Luneth's boots a bit into the ground. He gripped the handle of the shield tighter, stepping forward slightly towards the Moblin. The beam of light redirected off the polished surface of his shield flew into the Moblin's eyes, blinding him slightly. A plus in Luneth's corner. The Moblin put up a hand to block the sunlight from his eyes, which wouldn't allow him to use his spear effectively. Another plus. Luneth swung his sword in a circle, a bit nervous from the anticipation of the whole scene. After all, he was up against a murdering monster! The moblin took a glance back at the body. No doubt it was realizing it was caught in the act, and the sinking feeling of an oncoming retribution was closing in like a chokehold around its neck. The pig creature seemed to ponder some thoughts for a moment, before reaffixing its hands on the spear, as if about to fight the young Hylian. "I... I don't want to fight, but I won't let you kill me too!" One of Luneth's eyebrows shot up. There were so many things wrong with that sentence, things that went against everything his mother had drilled into his brain about the fierce soldiers of evil that wandered Southern Hyrule. A moblin not wanting to fight a Hylian? Practically blasphemy to the great King of Evil that they supposedly revered. Moblins and Hylians were supposed to be naturally opposed to one another, were they not? And what was that part about not letting Luneth kill him...too? Was he implying that Luneth killed the man? Luneth shook his head, redirecting the beam of light at the Moblin's eyes. "Don't try and get in my head, abominable demon! Your attempt to play off this loathsome murder as if you were free from the culprit's brand is weak and shallow!" Luneth shouted at the creature, clanging his blade against his shield. "I refuse to let such a iniquitous creature continue to roam these woods! Prepare to pay for your crime!" Luneth gripped his blade tight. Here we go.
Griskin stared forward, and winced at the reflected light again as the Hylian flashed it against his eyes. His tusks glinted, set in a mouth agape and starved for words. The pig-man gnawed on the word crime for a moment, it bounced around his frontal lobes and he tested it silently on his lips. My crime? The predicament clicked in his head suddenly, like a key in a lock. Nothing could have been perceived more monstrous in that moment than a green-fleshed, swine-faced monster and his violent companion, haunting the corpse of an only shortly dead man in the wilderness. This Hylian was going to kill him, and he was going to pass it off as justice. His sharp-eared adversary had already fixed himself into a battle-ready stance. Ancient instincts started to pinch every point of Griskin's spirit. He raised the spear of his father in a horizontal bar, making his choice of self-defence evident. "You're making a mistake!" he intended to sound reluctant, but the natural grumble of his throat churned the words into warning. He wanted to shout: Don't bloody your hands even more, but the stranger's own accusation against him caused the words to stammer in his mind. Don't try and get in my head, abominable demon. That was exactly the opposite of what his mission was about. He had to contradict that image. If there was a chance that the Hylian was not the killer, then Griskin could make no more allegations; for the sake of his own self-appointed ambassadorship. Balancing his psyche between his words and his spear, Griskin began to circle very slowly away from the corpse. His Octorok friend rumbled and hissed inwardly, but no stones came to fruition. Instead, he followed his master's example and crept behind Griskin's legs, peering across at the sword-wielding Hylian as if gathering secret information. "I haven't committed any crime here, I didn't - I didn't kill that man." Griskin grunted. Mentally, he wrapped himself to the spear. If words were meant to fail, then the old language of battle would be all his chance in the world for survival now.
Luneth watched the pigman as it seemed to ponder the accusation he had just spewed. What? What was so shocking about it? He had accused a murderer of the crime, and no Moblin was that good at acting. He watched the Moblin mouth the words, and he could practically see the Deku Nut flash of realization in his eyes as Luneth's words sank in. The Hylian rolled his eyes. Surely the Moblin wasn't that slow. The monster shuffled into a position of defense, realizing that Luneth meant business. He gripped his blade a little tighter, the grip rubbing a print into the glove of his hand. He pushed back the cloak over his arms, the bronze bands around his biceps glinting in the few rays of sun that didn't land on the Mirror Shield. "You're making a mistake!" The monster yelled. A threat now? This monster was sending mixed messages. But like he'd said, Luneth wasn't about to be intimidated by a Moblin and an Octorok. He stepped forward, the soft, wet leaves squishing underneath his footsteps. He held his shield at the ready in case the Octorok decided to try any more bright ideas, but no stones flew against the polished surface of Mirror Silver. Instead, the Moblin slowly stepped away from the corpse, circling away from the corpse. Luneth mirrored his movements, stepping slowly and ready to attack. He kept an eye on the small octopus darting between the Moblin's legs as well, not about to be caught off guard. "I haven't committed any crime here, I didn't - I didn't kill that man." The Moblin grunted out, and Luneth's calm breathing hitched for a minute. Who'd ever heard of a Moblin trying to defend itself of an accusation of a Hylian? Any other pigman would have jumped at the chance to engage in battle with the Hylian. It wasn't enough to disarm Luneth, but it did loosen his grip on his sword just a fraction. "Im-impossible." He declared, keeping a firm tone through his confusion. "You were discovered at the victim's body moments after the incident, and Moblins harbor an eternal resentment against Hylians. It is only logical to believe that you are the perpetrator of the crime." He outlined his thought process, deciding to give the Moblin a chance. If this Moblin was intelligent enough and was as devoted to this charade to attempt to point out the flaws in the process of reasoning, Luneth would consider his words appropriately.
Splinters of disbelief prickled his trachea, but he clung to the conversation's successful initiation. Relieved as much as an acrobat's aid at a precarious height, Griskin saw the engagement as a temporary parley lying on wet paper - liable to fall apart when prodded incorrectly. Black eyes trained on the Hylian, doubled by his boneless companion, Griskin kept his spear against his width as more of an obstacle than a weapon. He followed the man's cycle, reflecting his movements in a lagging fashion. Now and then, light finding its way through broken boughs bounced from his adversary's shield and flashed the Moblin's vision. He tried to accommodate the shining distractions with a perpetuating squint. Taking the heated truce as a chance to explain himself, Griskin started to deconstruct his previous actions. He couldn't bring himself to blame the Hylian's outlook on Moblin-kind, and even if he could, it would certainly only lead to a quick death. How could he prove he was not the killer? Forest litter crinkled underfoot as he came to a stop. The man's corpse oozed with dark, damp red. The stains of murder seemed to override the patterns of his clothing. Blood stains... it was a weak argument, but he grasped it in the moment and lunged with it as if it were a substitute for his spear. "Blood!" Griskin barked the word like a demand. Recounting his thoughts, he elaborated, flinging a frantic palm in front of his chest, "N-No blood stains, I mean. There's no blood stains on me, or on my spear!"
Hooves crunched and snapped their way across the natural litter of the forest's floor. The incredibly mediocre hazel-brown steed had adopted a languid pace for its one-man procession, occasionally accented by short snorts and bored flicks of a tail as it trudged along. It was a bit of an old fart really: not that Faust was complaining. Discounted renting fees aside, for once the doctor was able to catch his breath and he savoured it: breathing in deep the fresh fragrance of woodland, and unable to keep the slight quirk of a smile off of his lips as the warm sunshine danced through the leafy canopies above. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all. With one job completed and the next one distant, there was need to rush - especially with a freshly filled wallet hung at his hip. You know what...? He was actually kind of happy. Happy! He tried not to grin but the teeth still barred around his lollipop stick, tongue rolling over the candy head in a silently contented laugh with the flavour of honey-cured likelike jerky. Heck, he even patted the toned neck of his mount now and then! It's a good job that some murderous cries broke out nearby and shattered that humble bliss of his. It was about time that life went and reeled his true, ugly face of shit again. "Don't try and get in my head, abominable demon!" A male voice bellowed, craning Faust's neck with a quirk of one eyebrow. "Your attempt to play off this loathsome murder as if you were free from the culprit's brand is weak and shallow! I refuse to let such a iniquitous creature continue to roam these woods! Prepare to pay for your crime!" Well that all sounds disgustingly righteous and wordy. A blonde-haired aristocrat of a knight out to slay a dragon perhaps? The doctor snickered to himself before gently hushing his horse to a standstill. He'd already overheard some of the drama, so he may as well continue the deed of eavesdropping anyway, right? "You're making a mistake!" Some sort of-...beast(?) blundered in reply. "I haven't committed any crime here, I didn't - I didn't kill that man." It went on in a series of whining, terrified grunts. Faust's difficulty to place the accent of the accused did nothing but pique his curiosity further. It was a most peculiar voice. He could almost go as far as to say he'd never heard anything of the sort before - except perhaps from some of the Yetis up north. But a Yeti? Here? Nah. It didn't sound that big. Snooping around like the naughty child he felt himself becoming, Faust silently slid off of his mount and tied its reigns around the nearest stable looking trunk that wasn't insect infested. The two strangers were still acting out their little, murder mystery drama as the doctor sneaked up on them to get a better spot; gloved hands brushed through thick undergrowth, and for some reason his heart kept jolting into his throat every time he snapped a twig underfoot. Why did he feel guilty? He was listening to their conversation, yeah, sure, but so what? It was a public place. A remote place, but still, it was public. He had rights. "Blood!" The feral voice barked, and Faust felt the voice resound sharp and clear in his ears as the sickly-green owner was identified before him. He could see nothing but interrupted shapes of his back but it certainly wasn't....human. If the doctor were to take an educated guess he'd bet on it being a Moblin. Ha. A Moblin. A speaking Moblin. He restrained the incredulous laugh. But sure enough, whatever it was it was definitely putting up a decent enough effort to defend himself and it's innocence. But then Faust saw the face of the accuser and he stopped smiling. "N-No blood stains, I mean. There's no blood stains on me, or on my spear!" The creature elaborated but Faust could barely hear the words anymore. Instead he had clasped a thoughtful fist to his mouth as his teeth crunched down hard on his candy. He wasn't making any efforts to mask himself anymore. Heck, after a few moments of pause and deliberation the doctor relinquished his languid crouch and full on stepped right out into plain view. "A man dead and a stranger nearby: does that make me a murderer too?" Faust interrupted in casually cocky challenge. His severe, coal-black eyes skirted around the details of his surroundings now that they were clearer, but nonetheless they couldn't help but be drawn back towards Luneth in the end. It was almost like he felt no threat from the Moblin and its pet, especially since the doctor stood only meters away at his side. "Afternoon, Luneth. It's been a while."
