For clarification, spoiler avoidance, or if you're just new here, CLICK BELOW for the first post:

Breath of the Wild ~ a Log / CONTENTS [[+Artwork]]

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

QUEST FOR PANTS


Waking of a Saturday, February 3, 2018



I warped from Cotera’s to Gerudo Town, and found Bozai. He seemed overly-concerned when he learned that a delicate little flower such as myself (for I was disguised as a girl again) had actually ventured into the wild Gerudo Highlands. He didn’t think I’d actually do it. But when he saw the pictograph I’d taken of the Eighth Heroine, he could make no disputations—he’d promised me those Sand Boots, and so he gave me those Sand Boots.
Though it was a real wrench handing back the Snow Boots, I tell you what.
He kept flirting with me pretty strongly until I could worm my way out of the conversation. But then.... as he sat beneath the tent out in front of the town....
I approached him again.
And dang. I don’t know if even I had boiled it down to what was really on my mind. Not so baldly or succinctly. But the penetrating bluntness of the very first option I was given in my conversation with Bozai spelled it out plain—“I want Snow Boots.”
Dang it, Nintendo! I could take a lesson in non-codependent assertiveness from this.... XD
Bozai seemed taken aback, but sweetly accommodating. And through all his coddly flirting he struck a new deal for this delicate desert flower and her silly flights of fancy.... one she wouldn’t possibly be able to see through....
If I could snap a pictograph of the Eighth Heroine’s Missing Sword
Hahh, yes, yes, indeed—the Missing Sword—so that’s what it was.... But I hardly heard the rest of Bozai’s words for how pleased I was feeling at having the fetchquest mapped so plainly before me! ^_^
If I could take a pictograph of the Eighth Heroine’s Missing Sword, this time without the aid of the Snow Boots he had lent me before, then he would let me have and keep the Snow Boots upon my return.
He was sure I would never find it this time, as it didn’t really exist, I heard him murmur beneath his breath.
Oh what wicked cacklings were mine as I warped off to the Shrine of Kema Kosassa....
It was slower going, without the Snow Boots. But at least that left me to finally invest in something with a higher defense for my legs.
I schlumped up the mountain to the Dragon’s Nest, and was favored with the good fortune of there not having been a Blood Moon in the meanwhile—no Lynel to tangle with.... and no Moblin either!—and took a fabulously artful pictograph of the sword.
A simple warp and a change of wardrobe later I was back at Gerudo Town, once again listening to Bozai’s incredulous fluster at my having ventured into such savage, dangerous territory, a dainty little thing like me, I mean really! Silly girl, didn’t I know I could’ve been seriously—
I showed Bozai the pictograph.
He was shocked.
“Snow Boots,” I snapped.
DANG! XD XD Didn’t let him mess around much for this encounter, did they? XD XD
Bozai.... shifted, and hemmed, and hawed, and.... decided he’d better stay true to his word. After all.... this was his big move for a pretty lady....
He gave me the Snow Boots. And started to ask, “Would you... g-go... out... with...”
“Not a chance.”
“You could at least let me finish the question.”
Aoh MAN.... XD SAVAGE. XD XD XD

Well, Bozai couldn’t really go anywhere after that—he was confined to the little tent out front of the city. The sand was very hot after all.
I felt kinda bad that I’d taken every lower-body wardrobe item he had....
But not nearly bad enough to do anything about it, not that the game had a mechanism for it that I could tell!
Nyahahahaha! XD

Monday, July 30, 2018

The Cyborg and the Madman

Morning of Thursday, February 1, 2018


The first thing I thought upon arriving at my desk this morning and finding something on my keyboard was that automatic triage I so often fall to:
Someone’s been here. Need to clean. What was touched? What has been altered? How clean are my hands? How clean are all objects and surfaces? In what order would it be best to touch or make contact? Need to wipe things down, but wiping down requires an immediate hand-washing afterward, best done unencumbered, and the sink is far away. Will want to put my things down beforehand, but can’t leave them unattended; need to lock them up first. But can I do it safely? Yes—they wouldn’t have touched the drawers very much if at all; I always leave them locked. Don’t sit in the chair yet.

I don’t fault anyone for thinking ill of this behavior.
It wasn’t always like this.

On my keyboard was a small generic Ziploc bag, rolled up on itself. I saw dull colors inside through the plastic. Candy? Sometimes people do hand out goodies to each other, and I am grateful for those times.... But why not just plopped on the desktop? Why on my keyboard? Woulda had to get in close for that.... Where would a body touch....?
But as I stuffed my backpack and purse away, I saw the bag closer, and the dim blue and white and brown and yellow came into focus through the plastic.
It’s okay to sit in the chair.
There was only one person that could be from.
I surreptitiously wiped the requisite surfaces down anyway, and the bag, before starting toward the breakroom; I used that sink every morning anyway.
But I stopped at Madman Joseph’s cubicle first, grinning all afluster . . . .

It was a Breath of the Wild Link figure, about five inches tall, nicely articulated all over, and packing a bow and arrow.
He was too generous! It was too much! I’m no figure connoisseur, but I know they’re worth more than just pocket-change!
But he insisted and I questioned and he insisted again—said he didn’t have a stand for that one anyway; couldn’t get it to stand up!
Joseph is a figure connoisseur—I catch him at it sometimes on his computer. Just how many species of Voltron ARE there anyway?
We laughed and talked.
“I may or may not like to just sit him on my shoulder, when I play the game.”
Shifty eyes above his incendiary grin. XD
I laughed and pictured the sight.... and then pictured the little Link on my shoulder....
Huh.... I wonder how he’d like me just spitting all this out into my log. Ah but he’s a pretty carefree guy. Only a little maniacal. Too bad Erika’s not here for him to startle from behind anymore. (Well, too bad for him, not for her.) I’ve heard him lightly blame it on PTSD from his time in Iraq.
Ah I remember when they took us all out to play lasertag that one time.... and SOMEHOW (???) I had come out the top-scorer on the winning team. (“Cyborg” was the codename I had taken upon myself with that particular gun-harness; felt pretty boss.)
But Joseph? Oh how he had kept popping up and around every corner, blasting my suit again and again, and dancing away with a wicked laugh! He positively harassed me!
He was my most worthy adversary.
And in the after-battle rush, as we all came pouring out from the cracks of the maze, running together and filing toward the exit—and I spotted him—“You! What is your PROBLEM?” I allowed myself to shriek in that wild vexation only a female can assume without losing grace. I don’t think I had ever actually allowed myself to indulge in it before, and that’s the truth.
He had been that infuriating.
I don’t even remember what he said in response. But we were both smiling, and we swapped names.
And that’s how I met Joseph.

He’s a kind soul. Beneath all the crazy.... he has a good heart. And he is generous.
Was I ever like that before?
Could I ever be like that?
I haven’t always been like I am now.
When did I become so touchy, so fearfully meticulous, so.... cold?
When did I become.... like a Cyborg?

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Colossal


Waking of Saturday, January 27, 2018 ~ 2



I made sure to change back into my winter garb before I spoke to the monk. And when I exited the shrine of Kema Kosassa . . . . the sun was shining.
The storm had passed, and the cracked snowfield shone brilliant in the daylight.
And according to my map, the Eighth Heroine stood just on the other side of the mountain, off the northern edge of the saddle snowfield.
But she was missing something, some aspect that the other seven had, according to the topo: two little jutting points off the tip of the triangle of her aerial silhouette.... I guessed I’d just see it when I got there.
I tried to climb higher for my approach, but as I scaled the western steps the wind came back, blustering the world into grey once more. A few Ice Keese came out to sport, and I was happy to collect their wings (the Great Fairies would find them useful in upgrading my clothes), but when I reached the last wall of the very highest western plateau of all the Gerudo Highlands, and tried to climb it—
That prohibiting chime.
And—

You can’t go any farther.

Huh.
I was still at an uneven, skewed edge, misaligned from the cardinal directions.
So the map was not truly rectangular after all.

Part of me.... kind of liked that. c:

It was all right; I continued northward and eventually the winds died down. And it was awful tricky out along the sheer rock walls as the shelves for my footing wore down to narrow ledges.... but the pictograph I captured of the colossal Eighth Heroine was excellent.
I begged her pardon as I paraglided over and climbed back up her person and ran around on her outstretched arms—it was the best way to regain the snowfield, and.... I like to climb on rocks.
And back up on top I immediately gave in to the temptation of a treasure chest tightly encompassed by no fewer than six baby Talus Pebblits.
I was rewarded for my persistence with a METEOR ROD, which I had never heard of before! It was powerful! 8D
The encounter had only slightly frayed my patience.... I wanted to continue to the peak east of the snowfield saddle, but the way between was thick with enemies. I didn’t want to deal with any of them, least of all that cluster of Bokoblins near the most obvious and accessible slope.
And so it was back to the western steps for a new approach. I climbed until I could climb no further, by which time the pretextual blizzard returned—this made it difficult to determine the optimum paragliding trajectory over the snowfield.... but my HUD was enough for that. It still functioned here.
I lined myself up as best as I could manage, and took a flying leap toward the slope I could not see....
The air cleared about halfway over, and I only needed a little correction. But aside from this my solution proved to be most effective! ^_^ Leaving camps of Bokoblins and multitudes of crouching Lizalfos in the dust, I hurried up the slope to the clear, bald top of Gerudo Summit where everything was open and the blue sky was so big....
Aaaand promptly turned around and ran back the other way when I saw that prowling equine silhouette.
The Lynel didn’t see me, but I could hear it roaring as I skirted about the edges of the peak. Thank goodness the cap was so rounded—there was so little to hide behind up here; the extra horizons were most welcome.
I came behind the single, house-sized butte on the peak that could offer sufficient cover—and laid my eyes on the most abrupt spectacle: a browned and weathered sword-hilt made of stone, jutting up from a deep crack in the rounded snowcap. It was about forty times the size of life.
I peeked over the edge of the little gorge; a Moblin snoozed before the spot where the giant blade was plunged into the earth.
Hhhhrm I didn’t want to deal with him just then.
But that Lynel....
This was the high haunt of Farosh. I might get scales or hornshards here.... But I wouldn’t be able to move freely with that Lynel in the way....
A White Lynel. The most powerful according to my Compendium.
Never faced one of those before.
....
No time like the present.
I camped atop the little butte, just far back enough to be out of sight. The high, rushing winds made Bomb Golf somewhat impractical, and so I switched to strong bows and specialty arrows. Still, the monster wandered where he would, and over distance my aim was weak. It was more a matter of persistence than patience, with the Lynel. I could sometimes pique his curiosity to draw him in by showing my head and tempting his terrible question-mark-thermometer before ducking down again. But he did not always come by me as the Molduga had. And once, getting wise, he came too close—and I found myself pinned down in my only retreat, which had been discovered from the desperation of the moment: clinging still and silent to the backside of the frozen butte while the monster surveyed the top.... until he finally wandered back down into his snowy field, and I could hunt him again.
In the end, busting Duplex Bows and with nothing but fletched wooden shafts to my name, I brought him down. And it was the first time among the bits left over that I was rewarded with Lynel Guts. They were quite.... colorful as I recall.
And then the run of the Dragon’s Nest was mine.
....For the moment anyway; I did not think I would be able to abide a Blood Moon up here.
I ran around and found the landscape to be more crowded than I had expected, with Pebblits, Octoroks, and un-Magnesable treasure chests. But these were paltry hurdles to clear for the ranging over of my prize.
There was a terrific gash carved across the summit, so big it registered on my topo. Ice and stone lay in broken slabs about it and scattered along its bottom. I wondered if Farosh had done that with his passing.... just scratched it right into the mountaintop. By the look of him he’d certainly be capable of such a feat. And at the end of another such depression, that giant sword stuck in the earth.
I crept up easily on the Moblin as he dozed, and sneakstruck him in the back.
I really do love that feature. X3
But one thing I have noticed about the really tough enemies.... is that one sneakstrike will not always bring them down. :c
But I put as hefty a dent as was possible in his health meter in one go for the opening salvo, and that was good enough to go on for the moment. A few more hits and he was down, and I was free to regard the giant sword.
It stood at an angle, and, in a most artistic juxtaposition, a regular-sized sword stood plunged into the snow at a mirrored angle, just before its base. Maybe the Moblin had been guarding it, or admiring it.
It was some beautiful thing with a shining golden hilt.... Gerudo I think....
But I had no room for it in my inventory.

I really.... really did need to see Mr. Hestu again.

In due course Farosh returned and I claimed a shard of his horn and sent him spiraling back into the heavens—so close now....
After this I knew it could be days before he’d make another appearance, and so set out to explore what remained to be explored. And in running all over the rest of the mountaintop, dodging Pebblits through the gouge like TIE Fighters in the Death Star’s channel, I gave in to my own peer pressure and simply demonstrated for David what the un-Magnesable chests were.... Ah I am too impatient....
As I checked my map to be sure I had swept over everything of at least visible interest, I spied a Korok circle down off the summit on the other side, the northern side. It sat low on a long plateau, with no small amount of topo lines in between. Very close laterally, but much farther away in terms of elevation. But the Kema Kosassa Shrine was enough to get me back if I wanted.
I stepped to the edge of the snowcap....
Hhhhh, there was always a hesitance. No, there was sometimes a hesitance.

You can’t fly and stay King of the Mountain.

In a wrenching jump my boots parted company with the Dragon’s Nest and I sailed down over the white northern ranges descending in rocky cascades all below me, the low plateau stretching ahead for all the world like Bright Angel Trail beyond Indian Gardens....

That freaking Korok was so much trouble....
I’ll give you a hint: No, you can’t carry the rock up that hill.

The last thing I regarded about the mountain was something I thought I had seen before, though I couldn’t remember when: Carved into the north face of the bare red rock was a large, four-pointed symbol of some kind—a lightning motif.
I was closer than I’d ever been to it. But.... I was tired. I would hike to it another time.
Instead I warped to Kakariko, and Cotera’s spring, where—wouldn’t you know it—the guts and hooves and horns I had recently taken from the Lynel came in handy in upgrading my Barbarian Helm! In fact I was able to upgrade a whole lot of clothes....
I guessed I had amassed quite a few extra materials since the last time I’d seen a Great Fairy.

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Ascent


Waking of Saturday, January 27, 2018


NomoreDAWDLING; it’s March 27 as I write this, MARCH!
I started at the Kara Kara Bazaar where Kachoo bade me good morning.
From there I barreled into the desert to find that shrine I had seen in the big tangle of cliffs beneath the mountain—the Dako Tah Shrine.
(“Dakota!” said David.)
It was difficult! Another electric path challenge....
After that I followed the foot of the mountain westward, wrapping round the jutting points until I came above the north end of those ruins I had explored before.
And wouldn’t you know it, north of the ruins was.... the Northern Ice House.
The actual house where the ice was kept was not very visible—its exterior consisted of a single trap door in the ground and a following ramp. But above this spot was a most improbable rock formation—looked kind of like a big turtle....
Up against the mountain, a solitary wolf prowled.
I ran down the ramp before it could spot me, and met the lone Gerudo manning the place. I roused her from sleep to learn that her name was Anche (“I’m gonna call you ,” I said) and that she really felt it was too early to be bothered just now.
When she finally did wake up, with my head still cracking over possible password clues, I spoke to her, but she had nothing relevant to say, and she never mentioned that Pokkiwhose name always made me want Pocky....
Nor did the Ice House hold much of anything else that was interesting. Except for ice.
I left. I followed the mountain’s foot westward further still, dodging from shadow to shadow, until I came to where the rocky pillars stood tall from the sand and Lizalfos lay in wait upon every surface.
Satan Canyon.
I’d thought about coming here again. Perhaps if I traversed its entire length I could trip something I’d missed before....
The afternoon was getting on, but the sun still burned me outside of the shade as I moved further in. I teased David again by refusing to approach certain treasure chests.... Not those ones.... And as I entered the sandy mouth of the gorge its proper name was revealed to me – Karusa Valley.
I jogged on, searching for any kind of entry point clues, but aside from a few Lizalfos for whom I did not mask soon enough and who took unkindly to my concussive salutations, it was simply a long, long trudge through the sand.
It was a while before the sandstone walls closed about me as they had before. I was grateful when the temperature dropped and I could move freely in the light.... and more grateful still when I came within sight of more solid ground at last! And momentarily surprised as, just before I reached it, the air took on a breathtaking, icy chill!
I ran—I’d forgotten how drastically the temperature could swing in the desert.
It was only a few steps, and then I was back into the windcarved sandstone, in the temperate air, with my speed blessedly unhobbled.
And there were indeed a few surprises I had missed before—like falling rocks.
I sheltered behind great rounded shelves of stone, which jutted from the sidewalls like pinball paddles, while the avalanches passed. They seemed quite large here.
Atop one of the shelves I found a stray Korok hiding in—
Those frog statues again.
I continued up the gorge and it wasn’t long before the defaced frog statues lined the paths again and the Yiga Archers came out laughing to sport with me....
I killed them all, but when I came to the door at the end.... it still wouldn’t open.
I guessed.... I had to trigger the events back in town first after all.
But there was more to draw me up here than just the Yiga Nest. I donned my Warm Doublet, Snow Boots and Ruby Circlet, and out above the canyon on the crunching snow I doubled back to the west, climbing further into the mountain.
Higher and higher I climbed, crossing glistening frozen shelves I could never have seen from the steps below. There were even a few sparse and lonely pine trees up here on the otherwise naked highlands.
And rhinoceroses! Great, woolly blue rhinoceroses, being chased around or ridden by Bokoblins. I watched them at it for a while before slipping past them and hurrying up a steep gorge—
The weather turned then. Thick grey clouds descended and the snow fell all around me. Fortunately my Snow Boots still allowed me free movement, and the rest of my clothing kept me warm from the chill. But the landscape and its denizens became steadily harsher: Visibility was limited in the blustering oblivion, gigantic chunks of ice began to appear, obstructing my way forward (and when I drew near to these and looked hard, I could see things frozen inside them.... Bokoblins, Lizalfos....), a new, hardier breed of wolf appeared, snapping its deadly dance about me, and more Bokoblins and an Ice Wizzrobe harrassed me for more attentions than I could spare. And though my clothes protected me from the cold.... their ill-tailored defense against attack had me flirting with disaster at every altercation. My hearts dropped like mercury as I took heavy damage.
But two things pierced through the blizzard to pull me onward: The first was the sounding of the Erhu—Farosh! He was so close now.... Yes, this was where I had first seen him! From the river far below on the other side of the highlands! . . . . And the second was the sudden perking of my Sheikah Slate, chiming Brreep-brreep! between the winds—There was a Shrine nearby....
I pressed on, coming to a cracked and ruptured saddle, wide and flat with broken snow between two peaks lost in the grey. Icy Lizalfos lay everywhere, and watched me as I followed the shrine signal, too frozen even to bother with anyone more than a couple of yards away.
Gigantic snowballs rolled off the muted red steps to the west, gaining mass and slowing down before crunching to a halt on the field. I dodged them, climbed over a fragmented hill of ice—and there lay the Shrine, hard against the lowest western wall in a pit unseeable from anywhere. The Kema Kosassa Shrine.
I hurried into the hidden dell—danger was everywhere—and activated it. And shrinking from the howling of the storm I fled beneath the overhang, and stepped onto the elevator.
The interior was cool, and stark, and monumentally quiet after the weather’s rage.
It was a Major Test of Strength.

_

I had never done a Major Test of Strength before. No but wasn’t there something out from Hateno...?
David was with me; I had watched him.
I was ready for this . . . .

Monday, July 23, 2018

The City Again


Waking of Friday, January 19, 2018 ~ 9



Dang it, where had my sand seal gone? Hopefully back home....
No matter; I could just warp back to town.... And I did, Molduga guts in tow, before doing myself up like a girl once again and heading for the gate.
Before I got there, however, I bumped into Bozai.
I guessed this was the first time he’d seen me as a girl; he positively fell all over himself making an introduction.
“So yeah, hey, the name’s Bozai. I’m 35, single, and I LOVE jogging. Especially on sand.”
Oh yeah those Sand Boots! He said he might give them to a girl!
At once I started trying to weasel them out of him, and I heard him mumble something to himself about a golden chance to woo.... But he seemed quite attached and he kept playing coy, and in the end he said he’d only give them to me if I could first do him the favor of finding the legendary Eighth Heroine, somewhere in the Gerudo Highlands.
And to help me out he lent me a pair of.... SNOW BOOTS?
Well HANDYSAUCE I guess! ‹8D
I checked my map—I’d heard tell of the Seven Heroines, and I was pretty sure I knew what those had to be. I found that circle of Desert Colossi I had seen, and counted—there were seven.
And if those Colossi were big enough to register on my topo.... my eyes swept over the Gerudo Highlands....
Ah! There it was. :) Way up round the north side where I hadn’t been able to reach before.
But with my new Snow Boots, and my Warm Doublet AND the cold-resistant circlet from that nice lady back in town....! 8D
But.... that was an excursion for another time; I had some business at present.
As the day became stronger I stepped into the city, and immediately got lost in the sprawling tangle. Where was Malena? I went looking here, looking there, looking for Malena—no, the area full of guards was the wrong place—I needed the front of the palace....
And even as I veered to correct my course, I bumped right into her as she walked up the street!
Malena! ^_^
And I gave her the Molduga guts.
And she was in disbelief, she was so grateful—“OH, SARQSO!” she cried! and promptly became all sniffly with emotion. “This will save him...”
She wished she could give me more in thanks, but I graciously accepted her proffered 300 rupees.
“I never asked your name, did I?”
I told her it was Link.
“Sounds like a sturdy voe name to me,” she said.
Ah, hehh.... ^_^;
“May I... possibly... name my vehvi after you? If I ever have one, that is!”
AwwwWWW! There was a Gerudo word for BABIES!  ^___^ <3
“Deepest Sarqso, Link. I’ll never forget about you.”

Dang that felt good.

As I moved further about the city I found yet more areas that I had never encountered. One odd corner of town brought me to an old woman named Muava, sitting alone on a rug, and further along the wall, on the other side of.... what looked like a pile of rubbish.... a Goddess Statue.
I spoke to Muava, and she recognized me for a voe! But she wasn’t going to tell anyone. Actually she liked the idea of chatting with a voe once again.
She said she was quite a trveler, and a beauty, when she was younger. She had looked all over for the Lover’s Pond, but she never found it—I knew where that was—and before she knew it she was old.
Now.... she was just lonely. Lonely and alone, and she appreciated the time I spent talking with her.


Hhhhhhh, makes me want to.... I don’t know. I don’t know any cut-off and detatched elderly people. Though I suppose if they were cut off, how would they inform anyone?
What a cruel joke.
....
I wonder if I’ll end up like that, since I’m not very outgoing.
....
At the very least we could Christmas carol to a nursing home again.
Oh, the way their eyes light up and their smiles come to life....


I prayed at the Goddess Statue, and received another stamina vessel, which made now for two complete wheels.
Back at the clothing shop—Armor Shop?—I attempted to explore a little deeper beyond the front stall—but the attendant told me that door was “for employees only”.
Huh.
So I combed the outside of the building until I found another door. But when I attempted entry here, a voice from within asked me for a password.
! So this was the password door!
I had a wild guess at it anyway. Not unexpectedly, I got it wrong.
The voice chided me and told me to go back to the tavern and order.... milk or something or some such words.
I turned and ran back to the square, passing Jules in the street—we momentarily reveled in our sharing the secret. Hee.
But I hurried on to the tavern—I wanted to learn the password!
As it turned out there was indeed a new option to order milk from the bartender—but when I tried it she told me off just the same!
I got the feeling both the bartender and that voice behind the door each thought the other were playing tricks on her....
The only other things the bartender talked about were one Pokki and some purported Ice House which aided in their business. Of neither of which I found any sign as I looked all over.
I spoke to another patron in the bar, Pritana, but she only said I didn’t look old enough to be in there. “How old are you really?” she asked.
“I’m over 100!” I answered, selecting the answer before I realized the dialogue had given me options.
Pritana laughed and told me what a funny vai I was. “When you’re older,” she said, “let’s have a drink together!”
Fed up and unable to squeeze anything further from the canteen, I threw the barrel at those lounge ladies once again before plunging back into the city.

I think inwardly.... I only wanted to put off my quest for a little longer. I wanted to play, and yet I also wanted to keep from doing the important things in the game.... because I was always behind on my log, and I wanted to catch up on my writing first before playing deeper into the main storyline....
Though I’m sure you can see the lot of good that has done me in my writing. Sometimes it doesn’t matter whether it’s important or inane, main storyline or not. The moment that strikes you has no preferred time or place or shape or color or taste. It manifests when it wants to, and you can only try your best to bottle it with your words.
Like that whole Molduga chapter.... How did two or three sentences of notes become three or four pages of log?
I guess because the moment was familiar.
Maybe I am the spider in the web, perservering motionless for endless hours.
I am Buck in the wilderness.
I’m Pangur Bán hunting mice.
I’m the scholar, hunting words.
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.
Better far than praise of men
‘Tis to sit with book and pen...
Translated from the Irish by Robin Flower (1881 – 1946)

A walk around some very high walls with enormous planters and palm trees in the corners gave me a view of one more sand seal paddock, containing only one animal.
I floated down—this sand seal was different, and had a stronger color.
Padda, the single Gerudo standing by, informed me that this was the chief’s favorite sand seal, Patricia.
I regarded the creature.
She had a tiny red bow at the front of her scruffy mane, but I think.... it only accentuated what great hulking squash-faced beasts they are.
Padda further explained that Patricia was an oracle.
WAT.  ._.
“Offer her fruit, and she will give you words of wisdom,” says Padda.
So I gave her an apple.
She ate it, and then proceeded to bark and grunt and flap her big flippers with a great deal of show.
Padda translated for me: “‘The southern desert is...searing hot during the day! Bring gear made for it!’ I’ve spared you the painful seal pun,” she added.
OH GOSH. |-D
Thanks, Padda.

I think.... I’d had enough.
I got out of town, grabbed a seal, sealed back to the Bazaar, headed to the inn....
And went to bed.
Good night.

Monday, July 2, 2018

That Patience Which Holds Motionless for Endless Hours the Spider in its Web


Waking of Friday, January 19, 2018 ~ 8


In the dark of the night I sailed out west behind my rented sand seal, skirting giant bones and Lizalfos habitations.
My trajectory was vague at best and I had no idea what I was looking for—what did Moldugas look like?
Were they gigantic and woolly? Did they walk on their knuckles? Did they have tusks? Would I know one when I saw it?
As it turned out I did—I knew it before I saw it.
The music gave it away.
Like the Talus and its pounding percussion, the Hinox and its fatshnazzy brass band—the Molduga’s name and life-meter appeared at the top of the screen, accompanied by an insistent, repetitive, Phrygian ambush of cellos, arpeggiating sans the third beneath a dancing tambourine pacesetter as if it had been a race!
I banked hard in a panic—the arc was too wide and slow—and charged back the way I had come—!
And the music did not follow me.
I try to be a good steward; I did not want to bring the sand seal to any harm, especially as it was not my own.
But I think it would be a lie to say I was not also fleeing to save my own skin.
Once I was sure I had put a sufficient distance between myself and the monster, I stopped, and had a look back.
The Molduga was somewhere in among those stones, I was sure of it: Great, gargantuan juts of sandstone pushing up out of the earth like enormous toadstools. —And there was movement.
I scoped in.
As the day began to dawn I could see: Something large was.... swimming beneath the surface of the sand, casting up a wake. Burrowing. I could see the hump of earth rolling along, indicating where it was.... but what did the thing itself actually look
It breached the surface. Whale. Crocodile. Jaws. Teeth. Spoonbill. Little arms waggling. Manatee tail. Thrash. Twist. Snap. HugeHUGE
And it was down burrowing again.
Oh my Hylia that thing was—how could I—so bigcould it sense me even here?
I watched it. A long, long time I watched it; and it did not stray beyond the confines of its great stone toadstool ring, but only cycled around within it.
It must have been moving so fast and yet.... every circuit took.... what seemed like several minutes. With a few breaches along the way.
So big.
Was the Compendium lying, when it said the Hinox was the largest monster to call Hyrule home?
Or was this not a part of Hyrule after all?
I eased my sand seal toward it again, timing our pace to arrive at one of the gigantic rounded rocks just as the monster was on the far side of its circuit from us.
The cellos were nowhere to be heard.
I left the sand seal near the stone, on the outside of the ring. Removed enough to be out of harm’s way, but close enough to be called at short notice.
I meanwhile climbed up on top of the squat rock formation, and watched.... and waited.
I dared not move a muscle as the Molduga came pummeling back round the circle, clockwise, coming in hard from the right.
It would pass near me soon; I would have an opportunity to strike. And given the enormity of the circuit, I could see just how sparse and precious that opportunity would be. No time for test shots here—it would be imprudent to attempt anything less than maximum damage.
I selected the strongest Lynel Bow I had, nocked a Bomb Arrow, and prepared to demand the attention of a carnivore one hundred times my size....
And with perfect timing the Molduga flew up out of the sand before my eyes, blue-grey-green and enormous, huge jaws snapping, tiny limbs flapping pointless, and I took my best guess at distance, at arcing, at my quarry’s momentum, and let fly—

I wonder how much was skill at this point, and how much was luck.

At least in part, the tripled Bomb Arrow connected! and the huge whale of a creature slammed onto the surface of the sand and lay there heaving in its blubbery vastness.
My gosh I couldn’t believe it! A direct hit on the first go! Great shot! ^_^ And I looked at its life-meter.... It had gone down a bit! Maybe not an overly substantial amount, but—
What was I doing it was immobile I could hit it again
In the folly of my hesitation I got off only another shot or two before the Mulduga regained itself and burrowed back into the sand, safe and untouchable once more.
And off it went around the circuit.
And the music went with it.
The day became lighter and I was alone. On a few of the other sandstone towers to my right and left and into the distance, little camps of monsters could be seen. On the central hub, a large, wide stone like my own but on a greater scale, seemed to be the biggest party of them all, with a fire, a few storage crates, and no small supply of boomers. On the sands in between, camouflaged Lizalfos crouched still as statues.
The Molduga breached away in its course.
The timing was off—it did not breach in the same places on every revolution. It wouldn’t breach directly in front of me again for . . . . I didn’t know how many cycles.
Landing those hits really had been fortuitous.
But how long was this going to take?
I waited for it to pass by me again, and the arcing sun grew stronger.... I watched my thermometer tip further and further toward the red until it was too hot for me to stay where I was. My clothes could not protect me. I didn’t want to guzzle elixirs, not that I had that many. What could I—
Hm.
The Molduga was far away. I stepped forward and dropped onto the sand on the inside of the ring, landing in the shade.
There was something about letting myself down into the territory, the element, of my enemy that felt.... unnerving at best.
But at least I was protected here.
Well . . . . protected from the sun.
I didn’t like that Lizalfos half a stone’s cast away from me, though. I took the time to dispatch it before returning to the little strip of shade beneath the brim of the toadstool rock, where once again.... I waited.
And waited.
The Molduga slowly arced back around, breaching, as I had anticipated, well out of range of my arrows. How many circuits would it have to make before it would breach where I could reach it again?
I considered. I could try for the central stone hub....
But there were so many baddies there; it could take a moment too long to do away with them all—the Molduga might very well detect the ruckus, and then what? Or would it just as soon detect me making a break for that spot in the first place? To say nothing of what to do with all the Lizalfos in between....
The Molduga’s senses were sharp; I had stepped and jumped around in investigating this, when I was still on top of the rock, and my movements had caught its attention over impressive distances. And every time, I had stopped and ducked before the question mark could develop into anything further, stilling in time to let the monster be on its way. But I dared not shift my footing again down on the sand.
The day passed.
My sliver of shade narrowed. But the cool of the evening returned before it disappeared completely.
I had long since plucked what scanty plants there were in the vicinity. A Rushroom. Some Safflina.
The monster arced around.
Some breaches were nearer, some I could hit, away at the edge of my range, where as many arrows missed as hit their mark. Maybe more. Couldn’t risk a direct hit with something uselessly weak.
And the Molduga’s life-meter would drop by a small degree.
Chip by chip, piece by piece.
By and by the thought came to me, as I employed my projectile weaponry.... The Molduga responds to the faintest vibrations.... I can’t move when it’s near.... But perhaps.... my BOW.
The Molduga came round again. Its breaches would be far out of reach I could see.
But before it came even with me, I nocked a normal arrow into a weak, wooden Bokoblin bow, and fired off into the sand before its path.
The dread question mark appeared again, and this time—the monster breached where the arrow had struck!
I scrambled to switch out my equipment for something stronger again! Lynel Bow! Bomb Arrows! Fire! FIRE!
I could induce a breach from the beast.
I cut down its life-meter by a much more gratifying portion before it was able to escape again.... though my bow-work was become a bit sloppy in my excitement. I knew Bomb Arrows didn’t come cheap, but by this point I would rather have lost arrows than lost time spent refining my aim. Enough had connected that I was sufficed.
And I waited for the beast’s return.
And waited.
And waited.
Round and again the great Molduga came, and I lured it up each time, unmoving in my pocket of shade, in my refuge from the chill, and cast arrow after arrow after arrow.
Quivers ran dry. Bows broke. It was becoming increasingly expensive....
But the desert was not unfeeling toward my plight.
Once as I stood through the long and lonely night, watching and waiting as the stars winked overhead and the Molduga thrashed soundlessly in the far distance, something glimmered over the sand out in front of me.
There was a kind of twinkling, a little way off, but it vanished almost at once. And then it came again, in a different spot—and disappeared once more. Pulsing like a satellite. What in the world....?
Another sparkle, and I could see faint dark movement against the bluebeige of the moonwashed sand. Something was making that light.
And it was coming closer.
And then I recognized the glittering—that was an item I could grab!
But.... moving? Smooth as a shark-fin—was it a lizard?
And as it came nearer, listing away to my right, I saw it clearly: The kindly desert breeze had found one of my stray arrows, and blown it back toward me, rolling it over the dunes.
I ran to collect it as it blew against a far section of my rock, and then trudged back to the place where I had chosen to wait.
The sand—it slows you down.

It was in the nighttime that the mighty Molduga finally succumbed to my Assault of a Thousand Arrows, writhing in the air on the last hit with an almighty bellow before crashing to the ground in an ignominious explosion of wasted darkness.
I was running straight away—already the fickle wind was beginning to toy with the leftover parts and blow them about.... I picked up so many fins, AND . . . . the guts!
Got it! Molduga Guts! HAHHH, that was a HARD-EARNED PRIZE.
And there were yet a few lingering Lizalfos from whose claws I had to pry it.
After this I was not waiting for the next Blood Moon—I stormed and looted the central hub for all that it was worth. And I realized that while I had been hunting the Molduga, some of my incendiary arrows must have ignited a few of the boomers strewed about the sand. For there was a great swath of them missing where I had made my attacks.
Inadvertently handy!
I rejoiced in my spoils, I felt mighty in my accomplishment, but after days and nights in the wilderness of the Wasteland.... the time really did feel ripe to head back.
I trudged back toward my squat little hunting rock to harness up my sand seal once more.

It was gone.