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  • #1

    Rutile Base

    Sitting on the edge of the mossy elevated rock with his legs crossed, Mezon was gently plucking at the strings of his harp and looking out into the vast expanse before him. A soft breeze ruffled the feathers on the back of his neck. His eyes were calm but focused, unmoving. Against the peaceful and distant starry night sky he thought he could almost make out the dark outline of Medoh, perpetually perched atop his beloved city, now no more than a stern reminder of a dangerous world long gone. Not that danger itself had left this world, he knew, sighing as his thoughts dragged him back to the present time. A different world, perhaps, but increasingly dangerous and complex. At this thought he looked back over his shoulder at the still surface of Rutile Lake. A place he had found quite charming upon first arriving here now did nothing to inspire or awe him. It had become just another staple of his every day, along with the soldiers lining its shores, acting like nothing more than a boring marker for him to be painfully aware of how long he had been stationed here. Not to mention, the view was unsurprisingly far less alluring when covered in tents, small fires roasting different assortments of meats and wild herbs and mushrooms, and several large clunky supply boxes.


    He shifted to fully face the lake, observing some of the soldiers sitting by the fires, listening to some of them laughing as they retold some joke they had probably told at least three times in the last six months. Six, he repeated bitterly in his head. It was hard to believe now that he had been so excited to join the Hylian’s efforts to control the many bandit groups plaguing the country at first. An opportunity to explore the world beyond the Rito’s borders he had thought and, even more so, a chance for him to actually work in supporting someone he believed in. How quickly his joy had turned to ashes when the tragic news arrived just days after beginning his first assignment. He had to give himself credit, though, he had kept his word and powered through. One month in Thundra Plateau, two in Lake Hylia. And now here. And with six months under my feathers here, what do we have to show for it?


    His attention shifted to the left and up as he frustratedly rehashed the same complaints he had many times before. Though the distant sky near Rito City had been clear, the remnants of rain from earlier that day still covered their area. While he couldn’t see through the clouds to the mountain’s peak, he knew what sat there waiting. A vibrant red hue would outline the ridges of the mountain like the dancing lava of Eldin, fires that teased at the useless back and forth of the Hylian army with the bandits and mocked the lack of significant progress. He had told them time and time again that if only they could request more Rito backup, that just three of them weren’t enough, but the stubbornness of the Hylian mind no longer angered him. All he felt was a saddened frustration now, that and a quiet longing that he feared was growing more sonorous. But he was not done, he could not be. Not yet, at least.


    Without warning, an explosion and the flaring of fire near the base of Satori jerked his attention back to reality once again. Instinctively and without delay he jumped to his talons and crouched, wings spread wide to his sides. Once focused it took only a couple of seconds before the wind quickly picked up around him and, unclenching his beak, he pushed up with his wings and straightened as the draft carried him up into the air. On a cloudy night as that one, he knew he was nothing but a shadow shooting up into the darkness.
    Last edited by jborgon; 07-10-2020, 11:29 PM.
    Tags: mez, mezon, new adventure, new world
  • #2
    For a few moments all he could hear was the rushing wind around him. Finally he steadied himself, slowly flapping his wings to keep hovering about a hundred feet above the camp. His eyes darted quickly around the area below, doing his best to identify the source of the explosion. The fire near the base of Satori had started licking up at the edges of the trees nearby, but he couldn’t distinguish anything that would’ve caused it. While he wanted to believe that this could simply be due to some kind of mistake in the handling of their equipment, he knew how unlikely that was when all things were considered. Still, even on a cloudy night as it had been so far, the sentries posted around the camp should’ve been able to warn them of an incoming attack from the mountain.

    The sound of angry shouting and the clink of metal rose from below. Without a second thought, he turned his wings and propelled himself forward towards the fire. He made sure not to lower himself too much, as the shine from the flames would give away his tactical advantage of being hidden against the night sky. He could soon spot the people fighting below him, the clanging of swords becoming louder and louder. He drew his bow with one wing from his back while flapping the other to stay airborne. He quickly identified a couple of the fighters that didn’t seem to be wearing heavy armor, assuming them to be bandits. With one smooth motion he knocked a single ice arrow, aimed, and fired. Normally he would prefer his shock arrows, but as he didn’t want to hurt the soldiers he refrained. The arrow sped under a tree branch and hit his target square in the chest, ice spreading quickly to cover their chest. They stumbled backwards before collapsing onto the ground, but by that time Mezon had already moved on, circling around the trees and spotting another easy target. Luckily for him, with the commotion on the ground everyone seemed to be too busy to notice or wonder where the ice arrows were coming from. He had shot four arrows and was preparing another one when he noticed something odd on the ground - familiar bright orange and dark green colors sprawled next to each other beside one of the supply boxes. His eyes widening in panic, he swooped down.

    He had wondered why he hadn’t been met in the skies by the other two Rito in the group, but he hadn’t even considered the possibility of them being injured. This was, undoubtedly, worse. The dark green Rito, Amelin, was mostly hidden from his view where he was standing by the supply box, though he could tell that he was not moving and that the feathers on his visible wing were heavily burnt. Harthlin, on the other hand, gave a raspy cough and struggled to look up at him as he knelt down next to her. Her orange feathering around her chest armor was darkened, whether from the fire or...blood, he could not tell. His eyes softened as they met hers and she coughed again.

    “Really took us by surprise,” she struggled to get out, giving a half-hearted chuckle. “We were just finishing our dinner and then...bombs...or bomb arrows.” Her eyes closed as she gasped in pain, then sighed. Mezon tried to pick her up by the shoulders to help her sit up, but she refused and slightly pushed him away. “Something...whatever, just came flying out of the trees near the mountain. Too late to react, I guess.” He took a deep breath to steady himself as she coughed again, the chaotic sound of battle behind him all but forgotten. He reached out again, this time only to put his wing over hers. Her eyes met his again and she managed a half-smile and nodded calmly. Nodding in response, he leaned in and their foreheads touched lightly for a few seconds, their eyes closed. As he pulled away, her wing came up slowly as if to touch his face, but stopped and rested on his chest instead, very close to the scar on his neck. Their eyes met once more, then her wing fell back onto her own chest and she was gone.

    Mezon stood back up, though his eyes remained on her wing for a few seconds longer. He finally broke away as the sound of someone shouting approached him quickly from behind.

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    • #3
      About an hour later, far into the depths of night, the battle had ended. Mezon and the remaining soldiers were all sitting by the edge of the lake. Silence had engulfed them and not even the usual murmurs of insects and other wildlife that were common near Satori could be heard. Out of the more than thirty soldiers that had been gathered there earlier, ten had died. Their bodies now lay close to each other a small ways away from the group, pushed together after the struggle had subsided. Mez was trying hard to avoid looking at the bright feathers that stood out on the very edge of the pile. The captain finally stood up and moved to the side of the group so everyone could see him, though Mez thought no one seemed particularly interested in what he had to say.

      “We fought a hard one tonight,” he started, his voice croaking a little as he spoke. Mez closed his eyes as he listened, trying really hard to pretend like he wasn’t there. “It was… it was hard, yes, there’s no denying that. But, you know, we got through this. We’ve gotten through the last six months and we will get through however long it’ll take to make this mountain safe once more.” Mez rested his forehead on one of his wings, feeling even more tired than he had a moment ago. Yes, however long it’ll take. And how long will that be? No one else said anything, however, so the captain continued. “These, these bandits or these, these scoundrels, they are nothing but wild wolves with no fangs and no claws. They can keep howling all they want, but we have the weapons. We have the numbers, so many numbers more than them. And we will prove that that is what matters, in the end.” With every word, Mezon could feel more and more of his patience draining. A tightening in his chest reminded him to breathe. If we have so many advantages, why are we still here? Why are we losing? Numbers don’t count for scrap, they have the mountain and they know it and we know it. This isn’t working. His mind trailed off as the captain’s voice started again. “Listen, I know that it feels bad tonight, and I know we lost some good soldiers today. We… They just surprised us, that is all. It happens, they came and hit as hard as they could before we knew it. But, that was as hard as they could, and we still beat them back and that is what matters!” At this, Mezon’s eyes shot open and a quiet anger flared within them. It was ridiculous to say that them being surprised “just happened” sometimes. They had multiple guards set up every night to prevent a situation just like that. He looked around wildly, knowing someone would be speaking up soon to question this. But no one did. What is going on? he thought furiously, why is no one asking where the guards were? Why is everyone just letting him keep going on and on when nothing he is saying is making sense? He found no answers to his questions, and still no one spoke up. His frustration was starting to give him a really bad headache. “Alright, well. Nothing left to do really. We pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off, and we keep going. That’s what we do. Alright, soldiers. Let’s bury our fallen and… and then we keep going.”

      The group slowly rose to their feet and Mezon couldn’t help feeling speechless in more ways than usual. He was still glancing around, waiting to see if anyone would try to ask questions though now he knew it wouldn’t happen. Maybe everyone was just very tired, or maybe no one really cared. Either way, he felt more defeated now than when the battle had ended. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when one of the men reached to grab Harthlin. The anger flared once more as, without thought, he rushed over to them and aggressively pushed himself in between the fallen Rito and the soldier. The man was clearly taken aback and even stumbled backwards one step.

      “Woah, man, what’s going on? We need to bury everyone before the sun starts heating this place up,” the guy muttered absentmindedly. He reached towards Harthlin again, his fingers spreading towards her wing. Mezon quickly slapped his hand away and then extended his own wing protectively over the Rito, the tip of it clenching into a fist. His eyes were hard and his beak was semi-open, baring back in what would’ve possibly sounded like a snarl if this had been someone else. The guy took another step back, raising his hands apologetically. “Okay, okay, Mezon, take it easy. I’ll just help over there, I guess.” He rushed to move away from him back towards the rest of the soldiers, some of whom had stopped to watch what was happening with curiosity and, some he was sure, anger towards him. He didn’t care. His mind was blank as he turned around to look at Harthlin and Amelin. Truth be told, he knew they hadn’t been friends. They hadn’t known each other before joining the group, and even then he hadn’t interacted much with them at all. Regardless, he would fall on his arrows before letting those Hylians even touch them after he was certain it was their fault that they were now dead.


      The edge of the sky was beginning to turn pink as the sunrise approached by the time he had finished preparing. Moving the bodies on his own to separate them from the rest had taken some effort, but finding dry wood to act as kindling after the earlier rains had taken the longest and had proven almost impossible. At least he could feel certain the flames wouldn’t spread and cause problems with the nearby trees, though he still set rocks around Harthlin and Amelin, to be certain. The soldiers had barely paid him any attention as he had been working and they had been digging holes to bury their own dead, but now that he stopped and took a step back some of them paused as well to look at what the only remaining Rito in the group was doing. He closed his eyes and stood in silence for a few moments, trying to remember things he liked about the two Rito despite their lacking interactions. After, he opened his eyes and moved next to them, crouching right by their wings. As slowly and as gently as possible, he began plucking some feathers from their wings. With how sensitive this process was supposed to be, it took him a few minutes to gather enough. By the time he was done, more of the soldiers were now staring silently at him. He placed all of the feathers in a small satchel he had emptied to use and then closed it. He stepped back again, further this time, and finally drew his bow from its holster. Aiming straight at the center of the pieces of wood in between the two Rito, he knocked three fire arrows, the only three fire ones remaining in his stash, and released the string. Even with the dry wood the fire seemed to be struggling to pick up at first, but a small breeze gave it some life and within a minute the flames were growing and spreading throughout the circle he had enclosed by rocks. Now, every single soldier was watching quietly.

      Mez closed his eyes again, feeling the warmth on his face as the fire spread more and began causing some updrafts. He crouched, extending his wings, and then using these updrafts he jumped and elevated himself into the skies. He flew in circles, rising higher and higher into the air with the smoke from the fire. He finally got to what he felt was the right height when the sun was peeking over the horizon, and as the skies burned orange and red he couldn’t help but feeling calm for the first time since the battle had begun. Still flying in small circles, he opened the satchel and the dark green and orange feathers flew into the skies behind him, finally released. His circles grew wider and wider, the wind sending the feathers flying in so many different directions. Looking down, he couldn’t see any of the soldiers from this height but was happy to see the fire had engulfed everything within the circle. He took a long, steadying breath as the smoke made his eyes fill with tears and, by the time the last feathers escaped from the satchel, his mind was made up about what he had to do next.

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      • #4
        The last thing he packed was his harp, placing it carefully into his leather bag and sealing it shut. He stood up and looked around his camping area one last time. By this point the Sun was fully risen high up in the sky. Most of the soldiers were moving about, some preparing weapons for later, some collecting more food and supplies from the surrounding area. It didn’t matter to him now. He made his way slowly towards the largest tent in the camp, a scroll of parchment clutched tightly in his left wing. He drew some stares from the soldiers as he passed by them, the large satchel in which he carried his things slung along his back. Reaching the tent, he took a deep breath before stepping in.

        Mez stepped out only a few minutes later, the captain following behind with red blotches having formed around his ears from all his shouting. He had had a lot to say, but as Mez couldn’t do much but give him what he’d written, it had been quite a short conversation. The shouts of the captain had drawn the attention of the soldiers, so that just like earlier that morning most of them were now staring at Mezon to see what he was doing. Normally, it would’ve been a clean and quick thing for him to leave the camp; he wasn’t a Hylian soldier, and therefore couldn’t desert from the army. However, the captain had been planning a retaliatory strike against the bandits in the mountain later that day and, now that the other Rito were dead, Mezon was his only strategic advantage when fighting against people fortified by a mountain. It mattered not, however. Mez was and always had been a simple Rito volunteer, and as such he was free to go whenever he pleased regardless of how much it hurt his fellow soldiers by command of the late King Roark. And he knew it might hurt them, especially so on this day, but it didn’t matter anymore. He knew this was no longer where he needed to be, and there was no coming back from that decision.

        With the eyes of the captain and all the soldiers on his back, Mezon made his way to the edge of the camp. The trees thinned there and so, finally, he knelt down, spread his wings, created an updraft, and let himself be carried high into the air. Some of the soldiers had begun to curse him for a traitor and shake their heads, but he didn’t hear them and didn’t bother to look back either.


        *Mezon heads to A Worldly Affair in Hyrule Field, Central Hyrule*

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