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

Waking of Friday, January 19, 2018 ~ 8

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

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. Huge—HUGE—

And it was down burrowing again.

Oh my Hylia that thing was—how could I—so big—could 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.

The Trouble with Boomers

Waking of Friday, August 11, 2017 ~ 2

The Trouble with Boomers

I still stood over the head of the Forgotten Temple Valley and—confusticate and beBOTHER the sirens of this game—I was hungry to keep exploring!

Well there was that shrine and stable I could see far to the west across the green fields.

Onward! ^_^

Oh it was a long and rainy jog to get there.

David had seen me playing at one point, or actually I think I had described to him where I was. And I’d told him I wanted to go grab that very accessible looking shrine and stable.

David scoffed and said I’d freeze before I got there.

ò.Ó

I’d said it didn’t look that cold.

But David assured me the environment would be far too cold.

Hm! I’d see about that! u_u

The road went on and on and on, and the rain did not abate. I found at least one Korok up on top of an old ruined hut, and I met.... probably Chabi again. We sheltered beneath the splintered half-roof to chat for just a bit.

There were an awful lot of arrows stuck into the ruined buildings around here. I collected them where I could, but.... it made me wonder how it had gotten like that. What rivaling powers had clashed here?

At length I came to the Serenne Stable.

And it was NOT too cold for me.

HA, David! >8D

I skipped up the adjacent hill and completed the local shrine, and then.... decided to keep following the road. North of the path, before a great mountain cliff, there was a tall tower with a lookout platform on top. It stood beside a camp of Bokoblins.

I ran in and started to climb before they could stop me, and—ah, delight of delights—found a red-barrel boomer on top. ^_^

I peered over the edge; all the Bokoblins were gathered near the base of the tower. I picked up the boomer, and just dropped it over the edge.

And then something happened I had not expected.

Evidently the very tower I stood upon was not immune to the blast. The platform fell out from beneath my feet and I found myself falling through a mess of splintered wood!

Oops.

I remembered my paraglider before I met the ground, but meet the ground I did—along with a squad of angry, burning Bokoblins.

A terrific fire-fight ensued. Grass alight. Blazing clubs swinging. Hot times down on the ground I tell you wot!

After I dispatched them I made a note to never drop any more powder kegs close to the structures I was standing on, and proceeded to climb the mountain.

The Forest of Killing Time

Waking of Wednesday, June 7, 2017

The Forest of Killing Time

Yesterday I had to reset my clock. The power had been out for a couple of hours, because some men from SRP came to our neighborhood and removed an old transformer in the alleyway, replacing it with a newer one.

Must’ve been that devil from Hateno Village again....

That night I had dreams that after the next Blood Moon.... two rusted Guardians waited down the hill from Robbie’s house.

I had seen something very strange when I downloaded the Akkala map. And now at Robbie’s house I could see it with my own eyes: far to the northeast, standing tall from the sea like some kind of prison, was a great, cubic island of black stone.

It was a maze.

And at its heart in the back the orange glow of a shrine could be seen.

David had told me it was swarming with Guardians, so I went to have a look for myself. I jumped off the seaside cliff, and paraglided through the rain....

As I neared, a Flying Guardian came into view, sweeping over the twisting passages. Anything below it would surely be trapped like a rat.

Then another came into view. And another. And another.

Four Guardian Flyers patrolled above.

And who knew what lay in wait inside....

I sure didn’t, because my stamina ran out just before I got there.

I warped from my freefall back to Robbie’s, and thence.... to the Plateau. I wanted to see if old Guardians could be salvaged more than once.

Turned out they couldn’t; none of the old rusted ones around the Temple of Time had anything left for me to find.

Feeling braver, I tried around the East Abbey—home of my first nightmares. There wasn’t much to be found there either. But I took the opportunity to mark on my map where the live Guardians were situated.

As long as I was back on the Plateau I felt like wandering through it again. I had a Warm Doublet now, and I wanted to see the top of Mount Hylia.... and pick up some treasure I’d meant to get before, high on a tower near the treehouse where I first learned to cook.... There were plenty of Koroks that turned up along the way as well....

And then there was something that Jenn had said, so long before.... “How do you beat that miniboss in the forest?”

I hadn’t seen any such miniboss.

Of course, I hadn’t combed the entire forest, either. What was it, a Hinox? A Lynel? I wandered through the trees until I came to a little open spot of ground that made me think once again what a splendid fighting arena it would make....

And a Stone Talus burst out of the earth—not even Talus Junior—just STONE TALUS.

And the Piano conjured up all its percussive friends and laughed at my blundering into the trap!

I ran. The Talus dug up huge boulders out of the earth and hurled them at me! I could only dodge them and get behind the thickest trees—oh gads, one hit with one of those....

I put some distance between me and it until it quieted down again, and then....

I ran back in and climbed up on top of it before it could fully unearth itself this time! The Piano started up again and the Talus pitched and rolled—it is HARD to stand on top of a Talus! But there was its big lump of ore sticking out—I could attack that—if I could reach it....!

It flung me off and I hit the ground and rolled to a stop.

“Get up get up get up, Link!”

I ran back in, so close to its stubby little legs—stubby, they were as tall as I was—and sheltering beneath its bulk, I thought ridiculously: The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm!

The Talus’ huge, huge hammerlike upper appendages pounded the ground—but I was too close to its body. I jumped and gained a lucky purchase on its.... back? I think. It was hard to tell—and started climbing—at times hanging almost upside-down underneath it as it rocked and lunged! But I scaled up its stony hide and got to the top once more.

I hammered away at the protrusion of ore with my Special 38 Big Stick—the Knight’s Claymore—knocking chunks of Amber off at every stroke—the stone beneath my feet rumbled and jerked so erratically—it was so difficult to maintain my stance—but then with a final swing the ore protrusion shattered and the Talus was defeated!

And as it toppled I jumped and ran for it! I’d had giants fall on me before and I was NOT going to have that again!

The Talus collapsed and exploded into a resplendent pile of glittering gems—with two Rubies this time I think—which I happily collected before skipping off on my merry way through the woods.

I beat a Talus! ^_^

When I’d had my fill of the Plateau, I thought of where else I might find Guardians to salvage. My first thought was the Valley of Terror near the Dueling Peaks. But I also thought perhaps to sweep the road between here and there....

I paraglided down into the Forest of Time just to the northeast, because that had looked interesting on my map, dodged a couple of Moblins, and headed for a tall wooden lookout tower to take shelter in. Some Stalkoblins (as I’ve learned they are called from my Compendium) popped up in my wake and started throwing rocks at me as I climbed the ladder. It hurt more than I thought it should—and then I realized I was still wearing my Warm Doublet. Not a lot of defense threaded into that one. Except from the elements.

I came out onto the high platform, and choked—the tower was loaded with high explosives.

“Oh, nope!” I shouted, heading for the first barrel. “You.” I grabbed it— “Out.” —and chucked it over the edge. It exploded in a magnificent fireball, taking at least one of the Stalkoblins with it. “And you.” And the other— “Git!” —went over in like fashion.

The volatility of my immediate surroundings now significantly lessened, I had a look around. You know, it was a nice little tower—a nice, wide platform, little guardrails.... I could see the east road I had first taken so long ago, threading away through some ruins—

And there were Guardian husks down there.

I could search those—

But no, I couldn’t. Not right now.

Because a Blood Moon was rising.

Those east road Guardians would have to wait.

I warped back to Robbie’s and paraglided down the hill, grateful it was steep enough to allow me to do so. I found the rock again . . . . and waited.

I readied myself for a scuffle—I knew there were those three Stalmoblins there at least, but the Guardian?

I waited . . . .

11:30 struck, and the ground began to smoke. Unholy embers. Hazy light. Swift red clouds. And the Piano rumbled the pained low groaning it reserved only for those moments . . . .

I stood away from the rock, and faced the space where the Guardian had been before, when Zelda’s warning came in vision to my mind once more . . . .

And when she had done speaking . . . .

THE GUARDIAN WAS BACK.

Back and awake with blue light, clicking and whirring as it swiveled its can-head, looking for things to shoot.

“Dang it!” I hopped over to the other side of the rock.

The Stalmoblins didn’t appear.

But now the Guardian was back.

How’d you manage that, Ganon? Resurrecting machinery you never even spawned in the first place?

Ah poop this was so lame....

I climbed back on the rock, and destroyed it the same way I had destroyed it before, with arrows to the eye.

And when it broke down and exploded, I looked hopefully for Ancient Gears or Cores....

But all that was there was a pile of screws.

“You cheapskate,” I muttered as I hopped down to collect them.

Well screw you too.

. . . .

You know, they might actually have been springs, but then I couldn’t have made that joke.

Grace of Life

Waking of Friday, April 14, 2017 ~ 7

Grace of Life

It was dark when I had climbed to one particularly broad thoroughfare, high over the bog. It was comprised of a very worn-down bridge extending between two tall towers. Its planks were sagging here and there; some of them were missing entirely. A few explosive barrels sat scattered along its length.

I had cleaned up my end. At the other end, a great black moblin lay snoozing. I thought about casting bombs, seeing if I could detonate the farthest explosive barrel to take him out, but.... who knew if just one barrel would do the job? Did I really want to risk duking it out with a groggy moblin way up on this bridge?

....

Okay the Groggy Moblin needs to be a restaurant now.

BESIDES, if I made such a ruckus, other baddies might wake up as well; I didn’t want to have half the camp after me. And anyway the planks in the bridge were so skewed a bomb might not even be able to hit its mark.

But there were alternative courses of action....

I stepped out onto the planks. No need to make a mess.

I crept forward, sinking into a crouch as I drew nearer the slumbering brute. One sneak-strike would do it....

My father would have called it “a lack of situational awareness”.

A flash of red color, in some inward, downward motion—from above?—from the side?

A clatter, a boom, and the world exploded, and I was flying forward, beyond the moblin, passing on its left, arcing and whirling like a drill bit—I paused, I needed food, no but was I dead?—and the moblin was awake, and its bright blue eye was open, and it was on fire, and then it crumpled down dead—and I was mad with pausing—what had happened?—what had I been foolish enough to miss?—what had I not seen?—and I skidded onto the planks near the other tower, inside the other tower, and a glowing, glimmering teal angel with a long head-fin and beautiful arms like an enfolding shroud shimmered up in the air around me, dissipating into twinkling lights like fireflies.

“Mipha, no—” I choked, feverishly pausing again. I didn’t want to waste her gift on something so foolish—

It would revive me, she had said, the moment my strength was completely depleted.

It would bring me back to life.

Like a fairy, I had thought.

Oh why hadn’t I just been able to use a fairy, and preserve Mipha’s Grace for a time more needed than this?

Was there really any silence after the blast? How could there be?

I staggered to my feet.

I was alive.

I had extra hearts.

I was strong.

But Mipha’s Grace—

I paused again.

Would it still be there?

And to my shock it was. There in my inventory. But it was hollow. No longer gleaming in holy blue flames, but empty, and stark, and red with its usage.

I hadn’t wanted to waste it on something like this....

But as I looked again—there was a timer beside it. Counting down. And the words “Ready in”....

OH SWEET NAYRU IT WASN’T WASTED! I had been so afraid that I would only be able to use it once—but it was going to come back!

Mipha’s Grace would come back!

It would take time, but it was there.

It was still there.

She was still with me.

I took stock of my surroundings. One bokoblin snuffled around, alert, on the platform directly above me. That must have been the one that—

Must’ve cast an arrow, or thrown something.

That blue bokoblin....

Or maybe it really was black this time.

Augh, Black! Blue! What’s it matter anyway? They would all end up both of those colors when I got through with them!

Not So Simple

Waking of Friday, April 14, 2017 ~ 6

Not So Simple

There seemed to be a rugged but fairly clear path straight up into the foothills and toward the tower. I followed it, but.... not for too long. I soon found myself vaulting over the knolls to the left, keeping to higher ground, wanting to skirt the bare open spaces. I didn’t like to make myself a welcome target.

Left was the wrong choice, though, I soon discovered. Not by any imminent attacking danger—but by hazard of the environment.

Unseeable from the river valley below, pools upon pools of sticky brown bogwater festered in these high sort of paddies or spills.... The land was depressed enough up here to hold them. The landscaping might even have been man-made, for there were ruins up here, too. This was the Military Training Camp....?

Hm, but I am hesitant to call them ruins exactly; everything seemed mostly made of wood. Which I don’t suppose disqualifies it, but.... Well, the majority of it seemed to have been smashed and scattered all over itself, but the thing was it looked as if it could have happened only days ago.

Ruin enough anyway, I suppose.... An enormous tangle of tilted boardwalks, listing platforms.... and deadly spills into the bubbling ooze.

It was also crawling with blue bokoblins, and peppered with high explosives.

I moved carefully, and progressed by my bow.

The bokoblins didn’t pose too much of a threat. But it was a little disheartening seeing so many spoils lost to the bog. There was simply no recovering them. I tried to use my arrows sparingly.

The camp was extensive, to put it mildly. Onward and upward the splintered woodwork and wonky boardwalks led, until I came to one very large brown bog at the crest of the whole dead hill. Rickety wooden spires and questionable platforms spread over its glistening surface in an unpleasantly sun-simmered complex that looked thick and navigable enough from the shore. But moving out amidst it, treading over its narrow planks and planting myself on its sorry little islands of scrap boxes and upturned bridge-segments made into ladders and walls....

No, the ways here were few and constricted. The avenues were sparse, and I’d only have one dimension to move around in. I could see a few blue moblins tromping around on patrol up on some of the higher levels.... and blue bokoblins camped out high on some of the towers.

We may as well have been moving through tunnels. There would be no skirting around these guys. Sooner or later, I would have to face them, and take them down.

Because the Sheikah Tower was jutting from this bog too. And if I could just make my way to that high, high platform beside it.... I could reach it, and scale it.

To make it even more interesting, there were two or three lizalfos churning through the mud below. Dratted reptiles, that they could swim in that muck....

With a little Magnesis to move a large metal box for an extra platform, I got just close enough to take out the lizalfos first, not giving them enough time between my arrows to spit back at me. But there were still plenty of bokoblins to get through on the scrapwood islands—and I did not want to upset any of their explosives!

The sun went down. Rain came and went. The trek was longer than I’d thought it would be. There were so many dead-ended platforms reachable only by paraglider, traps low in the mud.... For where could you go once you landed?

This place would be so much easier to shake down once the tower was activated....