Harena sat quietly in the carriage, dressed in an extremely formal dress, though she did bring a change of clothes, considering she didn’t want to have to fight in this... “Well, here it goes.” This was all that was passing through her mind as she sat with the rest of the Great Northern Orchestra. There was a massive party tonight, and as such, it would be an excellent time to strike, killing them in ganon’s name. With a glance around her, she saw a few of the people she was working with. Apparently her actions had been noticed by some guy named Breydon Talouin, and he contacted her, inviting her for a large scale attack with several other Ganon worshippers. This was what she had been looking for! A bunch of other people, slaughtering the pathetic cows of the castle town. The plan he’d devised involved them getting into the party as the orchestra. That was pretty smart, and made it easy for a bunch of people to sneak in. Even better, their weapons could be stashed in the instrument cases. This Breydon guy knew his stuff. Harena just relaxed in her carriage, in a line of about nine of them, plus the storage carriages. __________________________________ Masaro walked into the lobby of this grand museum, massive exhibits on display. Weapons... vehicles... models of people... Food stands... The museum was dedicated to the war on ganon, and obviously it doubled as a memorial. Kirota was with Masaro, very very interested in some of the awesome things around that she could sketch and paint. Masaro was dressed in a tux and fedora, and Kirota in a nice dress. “Oh man, this party is gonna be awesome!” Masaro said, feeling the brim of his hat. Kirota though, seemed focussed on the pamphlet. “Says here the man who brought this Musuem up paid out of pocket. Interesting business move... He and his apprentice have been trying to get it open for years.” She read over more, though Masaro mainly just heard “Blurgawurgainfowinfo.” He walked over to one of the snack carts, picking up a few hors d'oeuvres and handing one to Kirota. “I do have a strange feeling though. Had a dream that a shadow fell on this place. Could be nothing though...” “Yeah, everyone knows a shadow can’t hurt you.” Masaro finished with a chuckle.
The Subrosian stood outside of the new Museum, watching Hylian men and women go in and out. Outside of a few furtive glances, he was relatively unnoticed, which was perfectly fine for him. It would make getting inside easier; comparatively so, anyways. As it was, it would already be difficult for Dogath to get into the Museum, what with the cannon slung to his back. There was no way in hell the guards would let him inside wearing it, but he wasn't about to relinquish is weapon. While it wasn't his only weapon, it was the one he was most fond of, and thus he was rather hesitant to part from it. But why was he trying to get into the Museum in the first place? He wasn't one to look at dusty old artifacts, that was for sure. Neither did he find the history of the war particularly interesting; after all, it had very little to do with himself, or even the Subrosian race as a whole. That said, where there is war, there is always weapons. That interested him. It wasn't that he wanted power for such impure reasons as dominion over others, riches, or fame. None of those were of use to him, and they did naught but tarnish true and righteous strength. No, what he sought was raw in its form, power for the sake of power; should not a man strive to become a greater man through such an endeavor? To him, this was the greatest of pursuits. And so he was here, in front of the museum, searching for strength, in whatever form it may take. But first he had to get in. "Din, why do these fleshbags have to be so touchy about weapons. It's not like I'm going to blow a hole in a wall... As long as that's not what it takes to get in, anyways." He muttered under his breath, pushing his way through the crowd. Miraculously, despite all the people kicking up a rather large amount of dust, his robes maintained a pure alabaster white, radiantly glimmering in the moonlight. Making his way towards the back of the building, deciding this was his best course of action. There were already people going in and out of the building from the back entrance, though almost all were staff. Good. Watching as what appeared to be the caterers ran back and forth, Dogath slowly made his way over to the guards, unslinging his cannon and holding it in both arms, as if to present it to them. They did not seem terribly alert, as they only noticed him just as he approached them, likely due to all the hustling already going on. They were mildly surprised, to say the least. After all, how does one see a short man carrying a cannon, much less a Subrosian? Dogath decided it was best for him to take charge, before they had anything to say. "Here to make a delivery for the curator. A fine piece, from the earliest days of the war, this cannon here. Seeing as the both of you seem rather busy, and there doesn't seem to be any other way of getting this rather valuable item to him out here," he said, motioning around them, at the apparent lack of moving tools, "I will do you both the favor of taking it to him, myself." Not even waiting for a response, he pushed himself into the Museum, leaving to slightly stunned and disgruntled guards in his wake. As soon as he was out of sight, one turned to the other and shrugged. "At least we don't have to carry that thing..." He muttered to his fellow.
Callad walked briskly through the security, his weapons still on him. He was former-Legion and a Scout, currently. He knew how and more specifically when to use his weapons. He had sworn a life-oath to the royal family. He could be trusted. Especially if he let down his hood, which he had. He'd made sure everything about himself was impeccably clean. He'd washed or changed all of his clothes and bathed himself. He felt like a new man. His black, velvety cloak billowed around him as he walked, taking each piece of this museum in stride. This was dedicated to the war, inside Hyrule's capital. So why do I have this feeling of foreboding? He tried to get the foreboding out of his mind by talking with some of the other guests.
Jacob fidgets with odds and ends on his Hyrule Castle Town Guard Officer's Uniform as Eysseth flies him through the quiet night. "Din damn I hate wearin' this thing." Jacob mutters to himself, Eysseth chuckling a bit then snorting. The uniform is an older one from the years that Jacob was actually in the Guard. A dull grey-blue dress shirt and pants with boots of the same color. Across the uniform's shirt were ribbons and medals Jacob had earned over the course of his career. The most prominent medals were his Airborne Mounted Unit medallion and the Ikana Army Medal both are above several smaller medals on the left side of his chest covered by a single silver aiguillette showing his position as a Squad leader in his unit. On the right side of the chest is the Crest of the Royal Family and on the top of the shoulders are a single silver bar each denoting the rank of Lieutenant. Although Jacob doesn't like wearing it it does fit him rather well. "Well put me down over there girl. Don't think they'll let a Wyvern in tha buildin'." Jacob says as he points to a street near the main entrance to the new museum. Eysseth nods and swoops down towards the indicated spot. "A monument ta tha worst days o' ma life. Why they got me speakin' 'bout it is beyond me, but I couldn't say no now could I? Sometimes tha past is better left buried." Jacob says to no one in particular as Eysseth lands and he jumps off. "Okay. I want ya ta go ta yer nest in the Northern Hills alright girl? Come pick me up at dawn will ya?" Eysseth nods before muzzling Jacob and making a purring like noise. Jacob laughs petting the Wyvern's head. "Now get goin'." Eysseth nods again before flaping her wings bringing her into the air once more. In a few moments Eysseth is gone and Jacob straightens his uniform and walks towards the entrance.
Harena made it into the museum with her teammates, getting to a large room where they were supposed to be getting their instruments ready. They indeed were, but they were hardly instruments of music. Harena took her knives from the flute case, smiling as she looked around at her comrades. There were about 40 of them, a tall blond man laughing heartily as he held an axe and longsword over both shoulders. He was chatting with one of the other men, a guy with a thin shortsword. Harena walked closer, starting to hear the conversation. "Ahhh, I'm so ready for this! This night is going to be the most fun I've had in a long time! You as amped as I am, Lucca?!" The guy raised a fist, calling just as enthusiatically. "You know it Breydon! I'm gonna get a higher kill count than you!" Breydon just laughed, slapping Lucca on the back. "Best of luck to ya, but you know you've never beaten me in a body count." He looked over and saw Harena. "Ah, well look Lucca, there's that Gerudo woman I was saying about." Lucca looked Harena up and down. "Well, this broad's got one hell of a body." Breydon frowned, giving Lucca a light smack on the back of his head. "Now Lucca, that's no way to talk to a lady. Harena's your name, right?" Harena nodded, leaning against the wall. "Yup. And you're Breydon Talouin, the mingmaster of the little operation?" He gave Harena a wink and a thumbs up, then looked towards the door as he heard a knock. "Hello? Mr Russo?" Breydon chuckled. "Heheheh! It's the museum owner!" He whispered to Harena. "Yesss, Master Tonero?" "The guests are arriving now, so if you could promptly set up in the lobby, that would be excellent. Thank you for coming in on such short notice, I truly appreciate it." Lucca then stood behind the door, a sadistic grin on his face. "Could you just come in here and see how we look?" The knob turned. "Errr, I suppose..." He walked in, stunned as he saw not an orchestra ready to play... But several armed people, almost ready to fight a war. Before a single word could be uttered, Lucca grabbed Tonero from behind, plunging his knife several times into the man's throat. Long after he was guaranteed to be dead, Lucca dropped the man, blood all over his white tuxedo. "Well Breydon, I'm winning~" The Blond merely smirked. "Oh, it's on Lucca..." ___________________________________________________________ Masaro looked at a few exhibits, seeing many rich people, but not really having anyone to talk to other than Kirota, who was busy examining all the exibits as well. At least until a young man walked up, putting a hand on Kirota's shoulder. “Jeklan’s daughter, right? Kirota?” He was a fairly formal looking guy, with wavy red hair and thin features. He was certainly a pleasant looking guy. Kirota turned around, eying the man. “Yes. I’m Kirota. Have we met?” She was slightly suspicious, but still easygoing. “Oh, no. My mentor is just very longtime friends with your father.” Masaro looked at the guy as he ate a cookie. “Mentor? Is he a robed guy with a beard?” The guy chuckled. “Robe no, beard yes. My mentor is Tony Tonero, the one who opened this museum. I’m Felix Vinero. Pleased to meet you.” Kirota went to shake his hand, as did Masaro, but Kirota stopped, feeling something strange. “S-Something’s wrong…”
Now that he was inside, Dogath was sure that the most difficult part was behind him. Now he just had to look around, just like any other visitor of the museum. Whatever it was he was seeking, he would know it upon seeing it. That said, he wasn't particularly fond of wandering around in the crowd; not only was that rather difficult, considering he was still holding a cannon, but it made him uncomfortable. It is difficult to see who your enemies are, if even there are any, surrounded by so many moving bodies. No, there was a much easier way. And that was to find the man who owned the museum and interrogate him. Easier said than done, especially if you're about a head and a half shorter, at the very least, than everyone else in the room. There was naught to do but ask. Stopping the nearest passerby, gripping them strongly by the arm, the Subrosian looked up a slightly irate Hylian, who was rather apparently uncomfortable with being touched. "Unhand me, creature." The man said with disgust, the fat of his multiple chins jiggling as he tried to yank Dogath's arm from his grip. The man was clearly one of wealth: the fat and complacent often were, in the warrior's experience. As much as Dogath detested weaklings, though, they did have their uses. This man was likely an investor into the building of this museum. "I have need of assistance, meatbag. Tell me where the man who runs this place is, and you will be on your way. If you do not... well, nothing will happen. Not here, at least." His tightened his grip, eyes flashing dangerously with the threat. The fat man paled, feeling the bone crushing strength of the man that was two feet shorter than himself. Stuttering, he turned around, and pointed towards a hallway. "He should be assembling the musicians, sir." He stuttered out the last part, sweat rolling down the valleys of his face. "Very good. Thank you. You may be on your way; I remember my debts, fat man. This may not have been your most comfortable encounter with one of my kind, but I will not forget this. Your help will be repaid at a later date." Dogath said matter-of-factly, striding off past the large Hylian. The man slumped to the floor, his knees buckling out from under his heavy body. Pulling a handkerchief out from his coat and wiping his forehead, he quickly regained his composure and went to join the rest of the party-goers. ------- As Dogath made his way towards the preparation room, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. He had always been sensitive to violence and battle. It always carried a certain scent in the air, a spine tingling twinge, the unsettling feeling of a storm approaching. He had such a feeling now. His hackles were on edge, eyes looking searchingly towards each passerby, which were increasingly few. He relished in battle, and would have otherwise welcomed this feeling. But he was in civilian territory, and that, too, was sacred. There was no honor to be found here, as there is none to the farmer butchering his livestock. A battle here would be little more than slaughter. He stopped at the corner, hearing footsteps not too far ahead of him, the only sound of another person made for quite some time. Peering around the wall, he saw a Hylian, fairly tall, and fairly old. At least, judging by his beard. If anyone was the man who had brought all this together, it was him. He was sure of it. But he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He could not hear the conversation that he was having with those behind the closed door, but it was apparent that he was about to walk into the room, unaware of the danger that may lay ahead. Wait! Dogath's mind called out, the words too slow to reach his mouth in time; his hand lurched forward to try and stop the man, but it was already too late. Crimson and silver flooded his vision with color, as steel plunged through the back of the man's neck again and again. Dogath hurriedly pulled himself back around the corner, a white eye still peering at the corpse that was now falling to the ground. His fist tightened into a fist, the leather of his gloves creaking with the strain. Dogath was no stranger to death, but this rankled of the worst kind of violence; that without intent, only pure malice. There was no honor, no reason, no strength to be found in this. It was such killing that was against everything Dogath stood for. But now was not the time for honor. The room of "musicians" was clearly full. He could not get a good view of him, but he could easily tell that there was over twenty people in there. Judging by the fact that none of them had done anything to stop the killing of the museum owner, it was likely they were all accomplices. And with the brutal way the man had died, they were not here to assassinate. They were here to kill. Monsters, all of them. "Din... Give me strength." He prayed quietly to himself, turning himself to the hallway, running quickly away from the scene of the crime.
The two Guards stationed at the main entrance salute Jacob as he approaches. Jacob stops in front of them and returns the salute. "Soldiers. I'm Jacob Temple. I was asked ta give a speech 'ere 'bout tha war." One of the soldiers look over a piece of parchment. "Ah. Lieutenant Temple. Got any weapons on you sir?" Jacob shows a ceremonial saber he had acquired with the officer's uniform. "Aye. Just this thing here." Jacob unsheathes the saber and holds it flat showing it to the soldier. "You've had training on it's use. Go ahead sir. Have a good night and good luck with your speech." "Thank ya." Jacob nods and walks into the building. Instantly after entering he is taken back a bit by all the artifacts and monuments to the war. He whistles a bit as he walks over to a giant sword on display. Jacob reads the inscription before walking on looking at the other things on display. "I need a drink. 'Xcuse me!" Jacob calls over to one of the people walking around serving drinks and food. A taller man in a black suit with thinning white hair walks over to Jacob hearing his call. "How may I help you sir?" "Aye. Name's Jacob. Got any Ale?" "I do not currently Sir Jacob, but I can acquire you some if you wish." "That'd be nice. What's yer name if ya don't mind ma askin'?" "My name is Alfred, Sir Jacob. I shall return with your drink soon." Alfred bows a bit before walking off to get Jacob his drink. Jacob continues looking at the exhibits as Alfred returns a few minutes later with Jacob's drink in a large glass. "Here you are sir. Your Ale. I was not sure which type you preferred, so I got you some Hylian White Ale. I hope this is satisfactory Sir Jacob." "It's fine. Thank ya Alfred." Jacob takes the drink and takes a swig of it. "Very nice choice."
Callad was attracted to the more isolated portions of the museum. Even with everything clean, he was one of the scruffier guests, and that put others off just about as much as himself. He was surprised at one point to see a short... creature? And it was carrying a cannon on its back. Where was it going? The scout pulled up his hood beyond his face, obscuring everything of his facial features. His foreboding hadn't left yet, having in fact increased. He followed the little thing with the cannon. His worn boots made little enough sound and he stuck to the shadows as often as he could, his frown getting more prominent. At last, the thing peered around a corner. Murmurings that could only be a conversation further down struck Callad's ears, though he couldn't make out any syllables. Just then, the little creature reached out, startled, before hiding behind the corner. The conversational murmurs were quieter now, and Callad swore he heard the sound of a metal blade piercing flesh. The creature murmured something to itself before fleeing back the way he'd come. Callad crept forward. He peered around the corner. Blood pooled in what must've been the man's torso. He was dead. Callad pulled back and started back to the other museum-goers, his walk becoming a stride becoming a sprint. His cloak billowed behind him and he started to feel his adrenaline pump.
Masaro shook Kirota’s shoulders, looking at her. “Oh no, Kiro... You feeling sick? Something like that?” Kirota’s unfocussed eyes looked at one of the hallways, seeing a man come running out. “...Masaro, let’s go to the second floor. We need to get away from the crowd.” Masaro and Felix both looked at Kirota oddly. “Wow Kiro, I didn’t expect you to be that forward about it...” Masaro said with a smirk. Felix looked towards the staircase, starting to walk away. “I should probably go check on Master Tonero. He’s probably in the study. I’ll see you later, Kirota. Feel free to stop by for a chat whenever you like.” He then walked away as Kirota dragged Masaro into a closed room. It seemed to be a waiting room or something with nobody inside. “...Masaro, tonight, just listen to me. I.... Think we’re in danger. We need to stay here for now.” Masaro looked at her confusedly, but just nodded. _________________________ Breydon laughed as he stepped outside the door first, swinging on the door like a smooth dance. “Alright everyone, we’re the true heroes tonight so work hard, kill as many people as you can, and honestly, try to have fun. If you don’t enjoy it, what’s the point? Spread out, guys. It’s on.” Harena stood next to him, chuckling. With people like this, it just may be fun. She’d stick with Breydon, he seemed interesting to her. Lucca strode up to Breydon, grinning something fierce. “So, you can check the lobby if you want. I’m going after the apprentice. The big two for the night. I’ll check the study, bookworm’s probably in there.” Without hearing Breydon’s response, Lucca took off, not wanting to lose any time. Harena chuckled, walking up the hall next to Breydon. “Well, he seems enthusiastic.” “What can I say, he’s got a lot of heart. I’ve known the guy for almost two decades now.” Harena smirked, the group of fifteen or so people moving towards the main entrance room. A few of the people with more concealable weapons moved towards the doors, eventually closing and locking them. Nearby guests looked at them confusedly until a voice rang out. “Everyone stay calm and get on the ground!” Followed by the bang of a seed shooter exploding a deku nut against the wall. People immediately complied, getting onto the ground as a small group of ten people or so dressed as guests looked around. “This is a hostage situation! We’re ransoming all of you for your safe release. Don’t do anything dumb, and you’ll get to walk away fr-huh?” The man saw the group of men in white suits, spearheaded by Harena and Breydon, and of course, they had done no such thing. “I said get down!” Breydon chuckled, walking forward slowly before he grabbed a man, probably in his early twenties, burying his axe into the guest’s neck and chuckling. “So, now we both know why the other group is here. You want them alive, we want them dead... That makes you our enemies...” Breydon held the man in front of him as a shield, Harena feeling the tension in the air and she gripped her daggers tightly. This really WAS interesting...
Callad had gotten to the foyer just as the thieves were making their move. He ducked into a shallow, shadowy alcove just as the proprietor's killers walked through the hall. Shit. That many? Hm... tough. Especially without my better arm. Surely there are more people that can fight than just me here, Callad thought, slowly drawing his blade and gripping his shield. He slipped in behind the men in white suits. Just as one of them began to notice, Callad jumped, flipped in midair, and felt his sword shudder as it split bone. He landed upright, held out his sword to concentrate his energy quickly, before spinning completely around, feeling the impact as his sword cut through three more people. The corpses dropped their weapons as they fell. "Hey! C'mere, you little shit!" a fifth one shouted, readying an enormous curved greatsword. The resistance had started.
He was in a dangerous place. He did not know the extent of the enemy forces present within the museum, nor did he know the layout of the museum. His lack of information could prove deadly, if he did not act carefully. Dogath tightened his grip upon his canon. He could escape without much event, especially when he could blow a hole through the wall with his canon. But at the same time, he did not feel comfortable leaving the innocent citizens inside of the museum. They would likely be killed, by the lowest kind of scum, and would die a death without honor. That did not sit well with the Subrosian. What do you care? These aren't your people. he couldn't help but think to himself. And yet, he still hesitated. "Dammit!" he cursed quietly to himself, sending a fist into the wall next to him. "Might as well get this over with, then..." He began to run again, quickly making his way towards the back entrance he had used. He could blindly run into the foyer, where he could already hear the beginning of a commotion, but that would lead to nothing but a rather embarrassing and distasteful death. No, it was better to fight with a plan, especially when the enemy had no idea of your existence, just yet. Making it into the storage area in the back, he pried open a crate with his fists, and began to root through its contents. "Good." Finding exactly what he was looking for, Dogath pulled out a bomb from its bag, using a nail from the crate to open the casing. Pouring out a majority of the black powder contained within the bomb, he began to stuff it full of wood shavings, used to pack the artifacts into the wooden crates. He repeated this with a few more bombs, then closed the bombs and replaced their fuses. Standing up, slinging his canon over his shoulder and picking up the few make-shift flash bombs he had made, he began to run back towards the front of the building, where the sound of battle was beginning to blossom.
Harena watched as a man came into the middle of the group, slashing through a few of her comrades. She drew her dagger back to throw, but Breydon stopped her. "Oh, looks like we've got ourselves a big hero, do we? Well boys, line up and give him a welcome from King Ganon." He held an arm up, and everyone backed away from Callad, but when the leader swept his arm forward, they all began slashing like mad, sending a barrage of power beams at the scout. Herena laughed at their display of power, lunging for more civilians who had gone to the floor to avoid attention. Her blade ran red tonight. ___________ "No, Masaro, they're not coming, they're here." "The bad people are here?" "Yes." "So.... You're bad people. Or am I bad people?" "Neither of... Din's sakes... Point is, don't trust anyone. Other than me." Masaro nodded. "Alrighty then. I shan't trust myself." A man then opened the door, the first guy getting in with an axe drawn. A second man was coming in, but Masaro kicked the door, smashing it onto his head and knocking him out. "Sirs, You're being very rude. I'm having a private conversation with my friend here. Please lea-" The conscious one swung his axe at Masaro as Kirota screamed. But Masaro stepped to the side, firing Ice from point blank to the man's face. With the block of ice covering Masaro's hand and the side of his attacker's head, he did a quick spin, slamming him into a wall to shatter the ice. The man was staggered, so Masaro got in close, punching him in the head repeatedly. "Pacifism BARRAGE!" The man tried to block punches, but his vision was getting blurry. "P-pacifism? Th-this isn't Agh! Pacifism at all!" Masaro then looked sternly at the man, roundhouse kicking him in the face to knock him out. "And THAT was for questioning my dedication to pacifism. See Kiro? I can't be trusted..."
