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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Mar 7, 2023 16:39:52 GMT -6
Maximus stopped walking to adjust the powder keg strapped to his back. The straps strained against his shoulders, digging into them painfully. He stopped a moment to hoist it farther up his back, hands gripping the straps tightly to alleviate some pressure from his aching body. He resumed walking, grinding his teeth and doing his best to ignore his burning muscles. The crunch of snow beneath his feet and the soft panting of his breath was all that could be heard for miles around. The sun hung directly overhead in a cloudless sky. The wind was still and silent. It was the middle of winter in Snowhead, and Max was grateful there wasn't a blizzard raging over the mountain at the moment. For the past several days, he'd been trapped in Goron village. Unable to leave as a storm unlike anything he'd experienced battered the mountain. Even so, with the unhindered sun bearing down on all of Snowhead, the air was bitter and cold. From head to foot Max was covered in thick, woolen clothing, but that did little to help his lungs, which struggled with each freezing breath. A blinding glare reflected off the snowy landscape as if it were made of polished metal, and he regretted not acquiring the appropriate sun goggles before leaving Goron Village.
For hours now he'd been traversing the crags and cliffs of Snowhead Mountain. On an outcropping perhaps only five yards in width, and with snow drifts so deep and slanting they threatened pitch him over the side any moment, Max trudged as carefully as he could. He wore snowshoes strapped to the bottom of his leather boots. They were a funny contraption made from the branches of pine trees and some thick wire netting. His steps had become wider to accommodate them. Above him loomed the jagged teeth of the mountain, stark white tips sprouting from gray, cracked gums.
Before him the cliff narrowed considerably, bending nearly ninety degrees toward the east. Max was forced to step single file. His heart pounded as he took each treacherous step. The cliffs edge taunted him, daring a single misplaced foot to send him straight to the bottom of its jagged maw. A nervous sweat broke over his brow and his breath caught in his chest. Max placed a hand against the frozen wall next to him as he steadily rounded the corner. The outcropping widened once more on the other side, and Max released the breath he'd been holding in a relieved sigh.
The sun's piercing glare forced him to narrow his eyes as he scanned this side of the mountain. Ahead of him the cliff rose in jutting, irregular steps, winding up and west along the edge of the cliff until finally they ceased at the foot of an enormous wedge shaped rend in the side of the mountain. From where Max stood, the tear in the mountain looked vast and open, like it might admit several men walking side by side. This, however, was but an illusion. For Max knew once he approached the mouth of the cave it was so narrow mice could only pass through single file. Max smiled, and once again adjusted the keg on his back.
Not much farther now, he thought, and resumed walking along the edge of the mountain. The stairs proved much more treacherous than the slanting drifts and narrow passes he'd traversed thus far. Many were broken and crumbling, making it difficult to find purchase. Once, long, long ago, Max imagined the stairs (and the path it took to reach them) must have been traveled frequently, for he saw signs of craftmanship in many of the chipped and cracked steps. Many times Max was forced hard onto one knee, desperately clutching the keg on his back, as a step disintegrated beneath his foot.
Finally, after much deliberation with the decaying staircase (and many, many prayers to the goddesses) Max reached the colossal fissure he'd suffered so long to get to. He pumped a fist into the air and laughed triumphantly.
His task was nowhere near complete, but now that he'd made it to the cave opening it could actually start. That was, if he didn't accidentally kill himself trying to get inside.
Now in front of the cave opening, Max saw it for what it was. Earlier in its life, when the cave endured consistent traffic, the mouth had indeed been wider. Now, however, after millennia of neglect, the entrance had frozen over save but a small tear from floor to ceiling.
Max wiped his dripping nose onto the sleeve of his woolen shirt, and carefully slid the powder keg from his back. He hobbled it over to the opening of the fissure, and wedged it as deep as he could into the ice wall.
With frozen fingers Max withdrew a chunk of flint from one side of his jacket pocket. From a sheath tucked into his boot he grabbed a small knife with his other hand. Max took a deep breath as he stared down at the wick of the powder keg. He had maybe ten seconds to clear the blast radius and all the flying chunks of ice. Back down the stairs was his only course of action, and the thought of traversing them again filled him with dread. He was as likely to fall to his death going back down the damned things as he was to be blown to bits. Max returned his gaze to the wick and nodded, consolidating his courage.
With one swipe of the flint, the oil-soaked wick ignited.
Max wasted no time, immediately turning on his heel and sprinting toward the staircase. He hadn't made it two steps, however, before his snowshoes caught on one another, sending him sprawling in the snow. In his exuberance at reaching his destination, he forgot to remove his snowshoes for a quick escape. And now he lay on the ground, five feet from a lit powder keg. The last five years of his life flashed before his eyes. All the work he'd put into finding a solution to his wretched demon, wiped away by a pair of fucking snowshoes.
Panic enveloped Max like a suffocating blanket, and he rushed madly to relinquish his right foot first. It was no use, however. His numb, slow-moving fingers couldn't undo the knot.
"No!" Max yelled, rage now entering his voice. "Not like this!" Six seconds had elapsed since he fell, and he nervously glanced at the keg. The wick was still visible, but only just so. Still, Max worked his frozen fingers on the knot of his right shoe, desperation forcing them to work faster.
A jolt of hope shot through him as he managed to release his right foot. He immediately began to work on the left while glancing up at the wick once more. The flame was now dipping below the top of the keg, and Max knew his time was up. All he had time to do before the keg ignited was throw his arms up and turn his head away from the blast.
And then Max lost consciousness.
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Post by Faro/Blade on Jun 19, 2023 19:22:55 GMT -6
Tracking. Did it come naturally to him, or was it another result of the intense years of cruel training? In a way, it was hard to tell when it was this simple. Faro had heard from the local Gorons about a boy fitting Max's description, and his arrival in the Village shortly after the blizzard's lifting meant that all he had to do was follow tracks through fresh powder. It was concerning. Faro knew Max had been searching, everywhere he could, for the past five years to find some sort of end to his demon problem. When it started, and everyone mysteriously managed to go their separate ways for a few years, Max was careful. He'd paid others to stay quiet, or told them lies outright. He'd been disguising his appearance and voice, even playing parts here and there to avoid forming a pattern. A far cry from today, when he went trudging off deep into the mountains, disturbing fresh snow and not even bothering to double back or try and lead Faro in a circle. Max had run out of either leads or time, and Faro wasn't sure which was the worse anymore.
Tracing Max's steps brought Faro many of the same challenges, though the Gorons were kind enough to point out his need for anti-glare goggles. Wearing them made the blinding snow a minor annoyance, though it didn't do much to lessen the difficulty of the laborious trek. A small swell of pride came to Faro as he pictured the young man bringing himself across the narrow outcrop with the keg on his back.
"Hm, not a bad view." Malice reared his head again, bringing himself into focus as Faro looked out over the cliff to make a careful step over a small ridge in his path.
"We're not here for sightseeing." Faro responded, bringing his eyes forward to yet more snow as he came back down to the outcrop.
"Yes yes, the boy. Waste of time. You should have spent that time crushing Syrus." Faro continued to forge ahead, making slower progress as he lacked anything like Max's snowshoes to keep him from sinking into the drifts.
"He won't show his face unless Max is involved." It was the truth. Faro hadn't seen the man since their last encounter five years ago, when he'd defeated a creature of Syrus's specifically engineered to kill him. While he liked to think that he had grown too powerful for the demonologist to risk further encounters, he had a sickening suspicion that what he really was was too old. The thought was chased away by the echo of an explosion that gently shook the mountain beneath his feet. Though the cliffs were too steep for an avalanche, Faro still redoubled his efforts to catch up to the boy, hoping to reach him before Syrus decided to drop in with his impeccable timing. Crossing the narrow ledge with the sharp turn at the end was an easier matter for the man. Faro was unencumbered by a powder keg, and a crack in the rocks above allowed him to toss a sturdy tendril into the space for stability. The ledge widened on the other side, and led toward a set of steps that he could see were practically crumbling before his eyes. His mind drifted to Argoth as he tried to plan a way up. The Assassins of Hyrule always stressed quickness on one's feet as a means to escape danger or reach an advantageous position. Faro was certainly no stranger to such things, but he'd been trained under Ganon's own mentality: "the best way out, is through". He took off in a run, relying on his tendrils to save him when a step crumbled beneath him by grappling intact ledges as though using a Hookshot.
Faro leapt the final three steps to avoid further setbacks and moved toward the cave entrance. It'd been blown open not too long ago, less than an hour. As he moved toward it to continue his search, he tripped over something buried in the snow.
"Seriously?"
"Be quiet." Faro responded out loud, too busy digging out whatever he'd tripped on. Something told him that uncovering it was gravely important. He recognized this feeling as the usual serendipity when he found Max lying unconscious. Faro narrowed his eyes and quickly picked him to bring him inside the mouth of the cave. His own powers kept him warm, so he laid his coat down on the cave floor, .placing Max on top of it. While he slept, he found Max's other snowshoe and broke it down, drying the strings and the wood and making a small fire, with a few sticks left aside to make it last a bit longer. If Max was still asleep by the time they ran out of wood, he'd have to use his own powers to keep them warm, not an ideal situation this far up the mountain.
Once he got the fire burning, he examined Max's face. Luckily, the boy didn't seem to have any head injuries, but it would be impossible to check the rest of his body until he was warmed up. Faro took a seat on the opposite end of the fire, gently pushing the heat around Max to make sure he didn't have any numbness once he woke up. In the silence, he took a moment to reflect. Five years was a long time. In truth, it had been a while since he'd seen any of the usual faces. It was upsetting. The fate that seemed to string them together just when Hyrule needed them most had failed or faded for five years. Neither scenario was desirable. Fading would mean the end of the threats that plagued them, Syrus slipping in the bath, or choking on his lunch. It sounded nice, but the rethreading of the needle would mean new threats and new hardships. Failing was even worse than that. It meant that even the Goddesses themselves were unable to put together meaningful resistance to the problems that were brewing under Hyrule's peaceful surface. Whatever those might be was another rabbit hole he tried to avoid falling into. What mattered was now. Unfortunately, all he could do now was wait. For once, Malice was silent. He'd placed himself guard for the bastard Syrus, or whatever vile replacement caused the threads of fate to stitch the two of them back together for the first time in half a decade.
"Wake up soon, kid. We've got a fight to finish." With that, Faro rested his head against the stone wall of the cave and tried to relax a little.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Sept 23, 2023 10:04:49 GMT -6
Max returned to consciousness confused and sick. A fever was on him, yet he was shivering. Cold beads of sweat clung to his woolen clothing, and the sudden urge to remove the thick layers overtook him. He sat up, noticing nothing but how uncomfortable he felt, and began to extricate himself from the sweat soaked clothing. After removing the woolen jacket, and nearly tearing his tunic off, a violent wave of nausea passed through him. Without thinking he rolled onto his hands and knees, and directly beside the fire he retched and vomited. A sudden paralysis froze Maximus on all fours, and like the creeping tendrils of a vine dragging down the branches of a tree, a darkness coiled itself around his heart. Now a new consciousness buffeted his own, and max suddenly felt very small. A planet sized shadow of hatred and violence seemed to bear down on him, and he cowered before it. Outside of his mind, Max began to tremble, and his eyes flickered between his own green, and the demon's stark white.
Then it was over, and the totality of that black consciousness subsided. He stopped trembling, and his limbs returned to his command.
As Max took deep, steadying breaths, his entire body tingled and pricked. "Shit.." he whispered. Seeing now the spreading pool of blood beneath him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of blood from wrist to thumbnail.
How...how am I alive?
Yet he knew. He could feel the stain on his soul, the weariness of his will, the slow, inexorable decay of his body.
A rumble of laughter, like that of rolling thunder through storm clouds, echoed in his mind, and Max recoiled from it.
Over the past year, Max had been experiencing episodes just like this. And with each episode the will of the beast grew stronger within him. Soon, unless he found some way to purge the demon, it would consume him completely, he was sure of it.
Max turned from all fours and sat with his bare back up against the cave wall. He was still quite feverish, and the cold of the stone felt good on his hot skin. It was then he noticed Faro, sitting patiently across the now dwindling fire. The flames had died to a low flicker, yet their meager light still danced along the walls of the cave.
He wasn't that surprised to see Faro. The last few months of his travels weren't exactly the pinnacle of stealth. In his desperation he'd become sloppy and careless. Two things that could very well get him killed before he ever found a cure. But none of that mattered now. Let them come for him, be they friend or foe.
"It's good to see you, Faro." Max said through labored breaths, "I'm glad it was you that found me first." His voice had changed since the last time he had spoken to any of his friends. It was deeper and cracked often. A lot had changed about him actually. He was taller, broad of shoulder, his jawline was more pronounced, and a sparce shadow of facial hair now darkened his cheeks. His shaggy blonde hair was shoulder length, and his overall countenance took on a far grimmer tone than his previous jubilant boyhood.
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Post by Faro/Blade on Oct 9, 2023 11:42:04 GMT -6
Faro knew what Max was going through when he began to toss and turn, pulling off his clothes despite the cold. The clawing darkness and the grasping shadows. Resist the impulses long enough and eventually the demon stops asking nicely. He couldn't hold back a pang of regret. If he'd done a better job of sealing the demon, things would have been different for the boy. He'd be happy, Mathayus would be alive, and Mike would still have his eyes. Their only saving graces were Syrus' fixations and desire for his own twisted vision of perfection. Those flaws were probably the only thing keeping Hyrule out from under a tsunami of creeping black goo.
He winced as Max heaved up blood, but at least that meant the physical assaults were over. It couldn't kill the boy without killing itself, but he knew all to well how small that comfort really was, especially when the mental attacks began with renewed vigor. He noted the boy's eyes beginning to flip back and forth between colors. He tensed, ready to strike if he had to. That was another regret. Once the seals failed, he should have cut and ran immediately. Taken Max away to a spot where he could stop, as he was likely the only one who could. Eldrin possessed his own flames to ward off the creature with, but Faro doubted the thief would have it in to kill a child like Max if it came down to it. In a way, he envied that about him. The others flashed through his mind briefly as Max fell still. Rii, Kadina, the Assassins, Argoth in particular, and Mike the guard captain. He'd seen Argoth and Mike during the recent calamity in Clock Town, but finding Max was what really gave him hope for the future. Max shifted again and Faro brought himself back into the present.
As the boy leaned himself back against the cave wall, Faro let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Likewise, Max." Max would feel a slight chill creep in around him as Faro stopped displacing the fire's failing heat. "Just in time, too. Another hour and we'd both be icicles." He reached into the pack at his side and pulled out a few pieces of dried meat. He tore them into equal portions and tossed them into Max's lap. He bit off a hunk of the meat and chewed. It was rather salty and a bit flat on flavor, but it would keep them going for the time being. "Didn't expect you'd be so hard to find. Argoth would be proud." He had far more pressing topics to get into, but they could wait at least until they got underway again. For now, they had to collect themselves and prepare for the tougher road ahead.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Dec 3, 2023 23:03:15 GMT -6
Maximus smiled, though there was little joy in it. In the fading light of the fire, prompted by the kind words of Faro, he recalled the greater days of his youth. And though they were troubled, and often beset by the evils of his demon or the many nefarious deeds of Syrus and others, he had been happiest with his former master, Argoth. The relationships he'd forged under his mentorship kept his spirit alive during the darkest moments of his lonely exile. His decision to depart into the unknown cost him the comfort of those he loved at a time when he needed it most. Yet he knew in his heart that the doom of Syrus was upon him, and no other could share his burden in the quest of its eradication. Fate had bestowed upon him this single truth on the day he left. Yet fate had not revealed all to him, and in his five years of solitude, without so much as a seed of hope discovered in all that time, the first real development on his path to salvation had begun; for unbeknownst to Max his destiny and that of Faro's were intertwined. In time Faro and Max would gaze back upon the gloom of their frozen cave in reverence, smiling in the face of their shared misfortunes.
Max consumed the pieces of dried meat Faro tossed him and nodded his thanks. "I hope he hasn't gotten himself into too much trouble without me." He said with a slight smile, "Knowing him though, I'm sure he has." Max's eyes drifted toward the cave floor. A longing overtook him then, a longing for companionship, a longing for reprieve, a longing for peace within his stained and embattled soul. All things now hopelessly separated from him by a deep sea of shadow. Bitter air now nipped at his exposed skin, and Max redressed himself in the warmth of his tunic and heavy woolen jacket. During the time he did so, a growing gulf of silence permeated the somber red glow of light between himself and Faro.
He knew Faro was waiting for him. He was nothing if not patient when it came to Max and his predicament. Of all those that knew, Faro was the only person Max felt truly understood him. For even though they had lived two vastly different lives, they shared a connection the others did not: the ceaseless struggle against an evil bestowed. It was not of their intended design, nor of their fated course set in motion by the goddesses themselves. They'd been tampered with by the malevolent forces that worked against all that was good in the world. And now they were tainted. Never again to be whole or pure. And even though Max wished with all his heart such evil had never found them, he was glad they shared it. It was the only bridge he had over the black chasm of his loneliness.
Finally, as the silence grew to an oppressive size, Max looked his friend in the eyes and said, "I'm running out of time, Faro." The words fell from his mouth like stones. They were heavy and laden with a desperate fear. Another onerous silence followed as Max struggled to say more. He hated that he couldn't simply converse with Faro about all the trivial aspects of their lives. Or share the stories of their numerous endeavors over the last five years of his absence. He so desperately wanted to talk with Faro as if they were nothing more than two old friends coming together over a long unintentional hiatus. Such indulgences were no longer accessible to Max, however, for his doom stalked him like a predator hunting wounded prey. And now, as he lay upon the ground fatigued from his futile escape, the dripping fangs of his enemy loomed over him. Max didn't feel like he needed to convey just how grave his situation was to Faro. Only minutes before he had witnessed Max suffer through one of his increasingly frequent "episodes." Faro had also been the only friend privy to Max's sudden exodus. And now that he sat with him in what was to be the last of his foolish ideas, Max suddenly felt very small and weak again. It was as if he were jettisoned backward through time to his nine-year-old self, staring wide eyed and helpless at all the carnage he'd wrought while the demon took possession.
Max brought his knees to his chest and rested his forearms upon them. Tears stung Max's eyes, but he blinked them away before they could cascade down his cheeks. The sun had now begun its descent along the far side of the mountain, and Max only hoped the pale slice of light beaming into the cave was too faint for Faro to notice.
He looked hard at Faro, a sudden rage and anguish wearing his face. His eyes were wide and searching. It'd seemed like an age since he'd felt the comfort of a sympathetic ear, and now that Faro had found him, the essence of his despair burst from him like a mephitic cloud, "What's happening to me, Faro?"
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Three cloaked figures trudged through shin deep snow about two miles south of the cave Max and Faro now inhabited. In the distance towered the jagged spear of Snowhead Mountain. Its frosted tips jeered at them like the spine of a gargantuan monster. As the sun dipped below its peak, the light transitioned from piercing yellow to pallid grey. Each figure sighed, thankful that evening brought clemency to their weary eyes. None had purchased sun goggles in Goron Village. Even if they had been so inclined, none possessed even a beggar's rupee. And yet, when fortune waxes in one's favor, the respite is brief as it must inevitably wane once again. So, while the hulking form of the mountain granted reprieve from the harsh glare of the sun, a bitter wind took its place, whirling in from the east. Gusts of freezing air gnawed at their uncovered hands and stung their exposed faces. Cursing this sudden turn the cloaked figures stuffed their hands into the crooks of their arms, bowed their heads against the wind, and trudged on toward the cave.
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Post by Faro/Blade on Feb 12, 2024 18:36:27 GMT -6
Faro expected the question, but wasn't prepared for the crying, the rage, the despair. He'd been through it all before when he first tried to help Max, and his look now was was a reminder of that chapter of his life so marked by failure and death. He began to retreat into himself when he felt a push. A nudge from the stowaway in his mind. Though this one was uncharacteristically helpful.
"Wake up, you idiot. Do not make me come out there." Though he didn't say it, Faro could feel a tinge of annoyance from Malice as it recalled the time they'd spent in Syrus' old lab, poring over whatever notes of his they could decipher. The investigation into that madman's methods took weeks, but it did confirm some of their suspicions. Malice pulled away and allowed Faro to gather his thoughts, his eyes closing as he began to put the words together. When he had them, he opened his eyes and met Max's head-on.
"The creature inside of you is tired of being ignored." He let Max puzzle it out on his own for a moment before continuing. "You've always resisted it. Now it's realized that the best way to get what it wants is to remove you from the equation. If it were weaker you might survive, but the creature Syrus implanted in you, his... "next step" in his research. It-" Malice interjected suddenly, bursting out of Faro's back in the form of a snake-like tendril, complete with two burning red eyes and a fully articulate mouth.
"And what a profound "step" backwards indeed." He hissed at Faro, voice dripping with venom fitting his appearance.
"Malice." Faro called to the snake head, but the demon would hear nothing of Faro's objections.
"Well there's no sense lying to him now." He narrowed his eyes into slits before turning towards Max. "The word father used in his journal is as much an affront to me as it is to you, dear boy: "Perfect"." He let it hang in the air as he gathered himself. His contempt was clear even on his inhuman face, but he refused to undermine his point by letting anger slip into his voice. "Yes, "Perfect". A mindless parasite that throws tantrums and breaks things when it doesn't get its way. That's "perfection" to father." The head turned dejectedly towards a spot on the floor. "What a damn joke." Faro didn't comment on the final muttered insult to Syrus, nor did he correct anything Malice had said. It was, unfortunately, all true. As if things weren't bad enough already, that was the good news. Faro hesitated, but followed through with the bad news nonetheless.
"None of Syrus' research told us how to stop it. We're on our own. Not his lucky day." He knew the last part was only a platitude, hastily added to prevent the mood from becoming too dire, but maybe that's what Max wanted to hear after spending so long alone.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Apr 11, 2024 17:38:28 GMT -6
An abrupt and violent rage struck out from within Max's tarnished soul, like a spear thrust into the chest of an enemy soldier. He recognized his infernal passenger as the culprit, for there was no mistaking such unbridled fury. In no universe could he have ever produce such a concentrated feeling. His body twitched as if startled, and in Faro's direction. Despite the warmth provided by the wool jacket--and, to a much smaller degree, the faint glowing remnants of the fire--gooseflesh rose up across his arms followed by the hair on the nape of his neck. The air went deadly still; a smoldering coal burst like a firecracker across the stone floor. Bits of its remains flared red hot then died at Faro's feet. Max was suddenly aware that he was bearing his teeth at Faro.
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