Member Lore

Once, long ago, there had been a warrior named Vali'i amongst the Rito. He was legendary in his skills, and he fought against the Blight bravely until the day it took his life. But his legacy had inspired countless others amongst the Rito who opted to emulate this warrior's strength and tenacity. They called themselves the Warrior's of Vali'i, and tied yellow ribbons to their bows, and donned yellow sashes to let the world know about the oath they had taken to guard their land and their people. But they were inevitably displaced from their ancestral lands, and countless numbers of their flock had perished in the Blight. Now, only a handful remain in Vhintl, and they guard the last of their legacy, and traditions. Rito who may not fight as a Warrior, but still hold the story of Vali'i within their flocks, may have yellow flags outside of their houses to mark themselves as a place of refuge for any tired Warrior.

Rudania is not immune to a good party, least of all the Dance of the Blue Flame. For years, at varying times, Death Mountain's eruptions wipe out Akkalan trees and create gas that can turn the flames on the lava blue. Eventually the village dubbed this a special event, one that celebrated the continued protection of their lands and they dance each night the blue flame persists to commemorate it!

Couriers have in between houses on the roads to each village. A safe house, as well as a buddy system! The in between houses has beds, a stable for resting mounts during deliveries, a sorting room and notebooks detailing who was where and what deliveries has happened, other types of news and who has been where and when.

The Couriers also are connected through letters sent by other Couriers so they know who is working currently and in what area.

The Red Eye Clan is a larger Rudania Shiekah clan with cultural emphasis placed on public service. Members tend to value service to Rudania and the community highly and will usually happily help their Rudanian Neighbors. This has led to a minor martyr complex, with those dying in service to Rudania treated with incredible reverence and honor.

The tribe practices animal totem rituals, with members selecting an animal totem at their coming of age. These animals have no inherit value, instead as part of this ritual, you must explain to the tribe what values you see and respect in the anima, such as; enduring, clever, loyal, powerful, gentle, swift etc. Many of the Red Eyes will wear symbols, tokens, or tattoos of their chosen totem.

The Red Eyes have no set leaders, but instead form small committees to address situations on the basis of merit. If for example, a powerful monster is spotted, the committee may include veteran hunters, the lead blacksmith, the most seasoned warriors, and the some foragers to debate if they should engage or let it simply move on. The committees form and dissolve regularly and have no set members or required size.

Also known by the locals as "Ole Zap", this large and mean Electric Lizalfos is a fierce opponent, tirelessly chasing its prey until it is rightfully defeated. He can be easily recognizable by the scar on his snout, and the vicious attitude towards any sort of traveler that crosses its path.

Once locked onto a person, the monster won't give up on its chase no matter how much one may run, and his strength is impressively unmatched by most to this day. Victims report getting the thrashing of a lifetime, losing consciousness from its powerful attacks instantly once they land.

Locals tend to be extra careful, especially during Blood Moons, when the monster seems to be most active. There is very little you can do if you ever come across Old Zap, and ideally, the best way to escape the encounter is by not being spotted at all!

Vhintl is home to a group of community elders representing the different peoples of the forest that hosts regular community meetings. These individuals are simply respected senior members of their community that were trusted enough by their people to be relied on. Among these elders is Oracle Elde of the Kokiri. The meetings the elders host are open to the community and anyone in the village young or old is privy to them. Matters such as bridge maintenance, scouting reports and other issues regarding village life, are discussed and responsibilities are often delegated to those capable of the tasks.

These elders do not form a formal council and do not govern the village, but when crisis or disaster crops up in Vhintl, they provide reliable guidance and support to their people.

Rumors circulate through the darkest rings of the capital city's underground that somewhere far away on the frozen edges of the realm is a place where Sols are created. A single small Sol would sell for a sultan's house.

The general populace has no idea how to make Sols - if they can be made at all - or where they come from.

"Electric Chuchu ball" is a sport known well amongst Vhintl's young fighters, thanks to the the ease with which small chuchus can be dispatched and the resulting availability of their jelly. The game is simple: Load up whatever bag you've got with whatever balls of jelly you've got, throw it at your friends, and try not to get hit! The game simply ends when every participant is out of ammo.

The jelly reacts to the force of hitting its target and releases a small electric shock, often an inconvenience at worst. However, inadvertently stepping on loose globs or taking multiple blows to exposed skin may cause a chain reaction, leading to frequent electrocution accidents and injury.

Naturally, this game is generally considered to be both stupid and dangerous by most of Vhintl's adult population. Despite the elders' best attempts to stamp out the practice, youngsters still occasionally present to the village's healers with telltale electrical burns.

Rudania's Eldin Mines are a vast network of underground tunnels stretching deep into the earth. While most tunnels are safe for anybody, due to their proximity to Death Mountain, some tunnels are dangerously close to magma pockets, making it difficult for anyone except for Gorons, and non-Goron workers wearing fireproof clothing to go near.

The mines are frequently inspected for bulging, cracks, and other seismic activity that may result in tunnel collapses, or other dangers. Stakes are positioned throughout the tunnels to take measurements of the position of the ceiling, as well as any movements in the walls.

A set of study notes penned by one Maximus Ayton on the Sages and their elements

…s, the Sage of Water informed me during our meeting of two additional 'Sages', who served a separate role than that of the main Seven — while that role I was not privy to, I was allowed to know that they served as Sages of Wind and Earth respectively. This completely changes what I had been assuming about the connection to the elements and the sages: before I figured that the lack of concrete 'elements' or lack full stop meant that a separate aspect of the same element was being championed, (the prior example of Wind being represented by both Lightning and Forest comes to mind), but now?

Now it's more likely than not that the elements are separate altogether. Granted, they may still have some connections, which becomes apparent when one is active and another isn't, but at the end of the day Fire and Earth are able to coexist as can Forest and Wind. But what happens to the other elements I wonder? Are their champions located in another part of the world outside of Hyrule, or are the Elements simply rotating when they are active? Though in the latter case, that does mean a good few of the Elements would rather not take a break…maybe in one of the cases where the Sages or their equivalent don't have their Elements as public information. Though knowing how stubborn I can be in the pursuit of magical knowledge, who is to say that Water incarnate can't be even moreso. That is of course going with the idea that the Sages are chosen by their Elements or their respective deities, and not by the Goddess themselves such as in the case of the Oracles — mayhaps that might be my next line of research. Should line up with Alexander's next task, as the crown has requested that our band of knights…

…of course, while I doubt the existence of a 'mirror' world to our own, I wouldn't be too surprised. What intrigues me more about the concept is of course about their Sages — if such a world is to have a mountain of fire replaced by a mountain of ice (or a valley or pit. Opposites are complicated), then who isn't to say that a Sage of Fire could be replaced by a Sage of Ice?

The main question would then be if those elements can then be found in this world as well. Ice has always been within the fold of Water, but as I mentioned in one of my prior notes that such could be said of Wind within Forest, or Earth within Fire. I doubt I can confirm that they are truly separate (the only route to such I can see being the properties of precious stones: may be worth to look into them further), but that's the fun in theorizing: I don't have to be truly right somuch as I can help other scholars current and future reach the right answers.

With that, some ideas of what could mirror the main roster of seven — beyond the three already recorded and Ice, Curses or otherwise dark magic oft looped in with Shadow and Spirit could serve as an opposite to Light; those rumors of magicians with powers over the Mind, while possibly nonsense, could prove an opposite to the soul found in Spirit; as for the opposite of Time…that is complicated, but the sun and stars are oft connected to the passage of Time, maybe the answer could be found within Space? This is all hypotheticals of course but...

I remember grandmother's stories from nights of her sitting by my bed as she tucked me in as a child. Tales woven into pictures from mere words like a grand ancient tapestry, kept safe in her heart from nights with her own grandmother. Passing on precious memories to their children and their children's children like a torch.

I remember her describing a place unlike any i've seen in my lifetime. A place of rolling, endless sand. Where the sun bore down on the land with unforgiving heat, scorching everything but the heartiest of plants from soil that would wait months between rainfalls. Where you could see the air ripple and waver like water before your very eyes. Where visions danced on the peaks and valleys of an ever shifting landscape, churned by howling winds.

At first, I'd been horrified to imagine such a place existed. To imagine being lost alone out there and drying out like a little raisin in the sun. ... But when i'd looked to her face as she told me about it, i'd seen nothing but love in the way her smile had crinkled the corners of her eyes. She'd brushed a hand over my hair and she'd laughed and already such a place seemed not terrifying, but warm and radiant instead. She'd laughed and held me close as I'd crawled closer to huddle against her chest and she'd told me- This land was called 'a desert'. There was little to fear, she told me, for it was the very land that had birthed our people. And it was a land that loved our people to its very last grain of sand.

Its generous hands had offered our people gifts in the form of life. Its sands and clay offered us shelter from the heat of day and the cold of night, its hearty fruits and animals offered us vibrant food and flavorful drink, the howls of its winds inspired us to make and play beautiful music... It served our people's every need with love and with care, but much like any parent, the desert demanded our respect.

She'd told me it was as much a mother's nurturing hand laid palm up to offer its child gifts as it was a mother's chiding strike to its child's bottom if they did not abide by her rules.

…

Even now, I stare off towards the sands of the sea, trying desperately to picture the lands that my grandmother spoke of. If I could multiply the strip of yellow sand that hugs the ocean enough times to overlap the blue entirely, maybe it would look like the desert she spoke of. But the land she described to me seems so far away, and soon maybe even this ocean will as well...

Mother says we must move again. Disease has crept closer once again, inching in and poisoning everything that my family grows to love. We're heading up north now. Mother hears that we may be able to find refuge there, but for now... I just want to sit here for a little longer. At least long enough to pray- to my mother and to her mother and to the mother that my Grandmother spoke of with such love, that one day we can all go home again when this is all over.

A recounting of the Spider's Curse, a precautionary tale against greed...

One of the many dangers of the wild, dense and beautiful forests of Vhintl are the spiders. But they're not just any arachnids, though those also exist in abundance... no. These are massive spiders called Skulltula which can grow to the size of bears, and larger. They build nests in the darkest areas of the forest, between the trees and in the mouths of caves and in large, dark crevices. Those skilled and careful enough are able to collect the silk from their webs, which the weavers of Vhintl use to craft fine garments.

Luckily the skulltula tend to steer clear of the village itself, for the most part- for they prefer to lie in wait of prey instead of going to it. But that does not prevent them from being a horror locked deep in the subconscious imaginations of many of Vhintl's residents.

One thing to blame for this is the tale of The Spider's Curse; an old tale cautioning against greed by telling of a family who built their treehouse around the trunk of a great and ancient apple tree which produced in overabundance. By claiming this as their home and trading their apples, over time they amassed a wealth of goods- everything they could ever need or hope for. With nothing to want and therefore nothing anyone could give them in return, they then refused to simply share their continually growing stash of apples for the benefit of their village.

With so much overabundance, they grew slothful and lazy. And because the family could not eat all of their fruit quickly enough, it spoiled and rotted… and the skulltula, drawn by the lure of insects and decay, descended upon the house of the greedy and reclaimed the tree as their own, cursing the residents within and reshaping them into grotesque mockeries of their former selves. They became spindly and insatiable person-spider hybrids who would endure an eternal hunger and never know leisurely pleasantries again, new forms preventing them from benefiting from consuming the fruit or enjoying its sweetness.

At night, some who have been foolish enough to draw close to what is now a web-covered grove of apple trees deep in the wood report seeing odd purple flames moving about as they flicker in the fog. They say that the family still lives there, eternally tending the grove… forever trapped by their own enduring greed and the lesson they refuse to learn from in order to free themselves of the curse.

Some claim that the grove is safe to enter - but only just, if one does not stray too far and takes care not to get caught in the vast expanses of webbing. A large stone placed by someone only the Kokiri likely recall lays engraved with a warning at the boundary of the grove facing Vhintl.

" Heed the tale and Beware; take only as many of the fruit as you can yourself consume and leave the rest, lest the guardians of the grove sense a kindred spirit and descend upon you... to welcome you into the family. "

Sometimes libraries guard the remnants of lives past.

Some old recordings on Hylian belief and superstition - specifically the belief in shadow selves...

Shadows.

It cannot be debated that the actions one puts into the world will always have consequences. On people, on the environment, on the self. The Hylians I spoke to believe that in order to create peace, one must choose peaceful actions. These people are of the earth--they cultivate the land and its animals, they knit clothes for each other and dance by the warmth of a hearth in the dead of winter. But that has not made them naive, in my experience. When I asked what is to be done with those who don't choose peaceful actions, what their punishment should be when they reject the rules of society, they grew very quiet. It was an old, scarred woman who stepped forward to give me an answer.

Oh, a man can be punished, she said simply. He can be chained and tied, tortured and executed. She spoke of it as if it were the weather! Her face only darkened when she continued. But a man can run. A peacebreaker can be as slippery as a snake, and there is nothing his fellow man can do about it.

Well, what then? I had asked. Is that all?

His bad actions will burn him, she answered. This weary old woman was surely facing the end of her days, but her conviction was as fortified and timeless as the sun. Every choice you make is an energy like fire. The terrible choices burn, embers at first, hurting yourself and others until the fire can never be put out again. But fire, like all energy, makes a cast off. She gestured through the air as if the fire was in front of us. I swore I felt it. The smoke, the soot, the ashes. They collect--tiny things, such little things!--but they grow and grow. When it is so small, you can breathe it in. It does not hurt. But when you grow it like a garden, it will smother you. These ashes will grow until they become your shadow.

We all face our shadow one day. It follows you in the day. It surrounds you in the night. The shadow may wear your face, or it may not. It may mimic your movement, or it may not. When it comes for you, when your punishment is due, it cannot be avoided. Whether today. Tomorrow. Years from now. There is one thing it will know, no matter what.

Your name.

None of the Hylians disagreed with this. A man offered me a story of his brother, who he declared was his shadow. He'd made him his shadow every day since they were children who berated and hated each other. Another woman spoke of her child being her shadow, a colicky infant born of a failed marriage who did not last long. They all saw their shadows somewhere in the world, and at night, they dreamed of their own faces, darkened with their backs to the light.

I wonder if I will face my shadow one day, too. Will it be conquered? Or will I fail?

A writer reflects on the local hearsay from his time

There is much to be said about these elusive folk that are well known to dwell around us within our homes and in the mountains and forests. Although most is speculation and hearsay as it is said that only well behaved children can see these helpful denizens and they are simply invisible to us adults. Perhaps it could be said that as we grow older and relinquish our childhood whimsy and wonder we simply lose the ability to see such things, even those right under our noses.

It is common around town to hear children tell stories to their mothers of small folk they have seen with pointed ears and a fuzzy tail that came to them and spoke with them, or even watched them assist with chores or fix small things around their home. Most parents believe in the tales of these folk still living amongst us, hiding in the most peculiar places, and entertain their childrens' tales. Most of us do, even if we ourselves will never see it. Some of us don't even see these things in our childhoods and must trust the words of our family and neighbors that it is true and they come to well behaved children when they are safe and alone.

There is much to be wondered about the forest folk as well, possibly living under logs or under flower patches, or even in old stumps long left to rot away. Perhaps the forests that stand just outside our homes and towns are under the care and diligence of these humble little people. There is more to wonder about them since it is not common for one to let their children run amok in the woods alone. The mountains are also a dangerous place, hardly traveled, and are also said to be home to them as well, the rocks and stone steadily and carefully being chipped away by the tiny folk that would find comfort and solace in the cold, hard tunnels and caves. Perhaps even in this harsh climate they still find ways to assist others or even the mountains themselves, who is to say that the very thing that keeps these structures from crumbling is the tiny hands of someone we can only imagine to exist beside us at the best of times.

There is something to be said about the kindness of one so small, doing things no one asked for and simply assisting those who pay them no mind simply for the fact that they can and they want to. There is truly something to reflect on when it comes to the nature of these elusive people. These miniscule folk. 'No bigger than your thumb' as my neighbor's daughter would say.

There is no doubt that there is something truly remarkable about someone that could fit in the palm of your hand at their grown age who is willing to spend their life keeping the buttons from falling off your shirt or the dust from gathering on your shelves. I would do well to remind myself to count my blessings when I find something has been done that I cannot recall doing myself, to be sure to leave something of value out in return when these tiny miracles come my way. I would advise my neighbors and readers to do the same and to take into consideration the tiny efforts of someone you will never see, never meet, or know the name of.

An excerpt from Nat Geode's Animal Journal - this page appears to be about bears!

Within Hyrule there are many blatant dangers awaiting those who step foot outside the village, however where most are monsters, the natural world has its own share of contenders. Most notable being… Bears. These massive mammals are the kings of the animal world, often attacking those they perceive as threats without a second thought.

There have been two distinct species of bear identified in Hyrule. Honeyvore and Grizzlemaw.

- Nat Geode

A broad look into a handful of Hyrule's herbs and their uses across the land. It appears to be heavily aged and delicate.

An excerpt of Nat Geode's Animal Journal - this page appears to be about frogs!

In known Hyrule, there exist a few documented species of frog. These frogs can be found fairly commonly both in deep and shallow bodies of water. Furthermore, there have been incidents of these frogs found rather far from the water too. It is thought that perhaps these amphibians willingly migrate within a territory to find new feeding grounds or even a wider variety of possible mates.

- Nat Geode

The journal of a little girl who has a little secret

I have a little friend who fits in my pocket. She wears a button for a hat, and is smaller than a mouse. I met her by the light of a lantern when she was taking a sewing needle from my box.

"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you taking my sewing needles?"

"I need to borrow this," the little not-mouse insisted. "Monsters have invaded my people's home, and we must fight. I will return it tomorrow."

The little not-mouse kept her promise and returned, but I said she could keep the needle. I had many more, and momma wasn't mad that one was missing. She just told me to watch my step so I wouldn't get hurt. But I knew it would be fine, because the little not-mouse had taken the needle somewhere else.

"Are the monsters gone?" I asked the little not-mouse while sitting on the floor.

"Yes!" she answered. "If I may–" and the little not-mouse climbed up onto my knee to speak to me. I offered her my hand, and she climbed into it.

"Our people are most grateful," the little not-mouse said. Up close, I could see her tiny black eyes, her pointed nose, and large ears. "Thanks to your generosity, we were able to protect our homes. My people love to aid you much taller folk unseen - we take joy in giving back when there is much we take from you in secret. If there is anything my people can do to aid you, do not hesitate to ask."

"Well, my momma is a seamstress, and she sometimes has too much work to do, and she never has time to teach me to sew…but you couldn't possibly help with that…you're far too small. "

The little not-mouse bowed with a flourish. "Nothing is impossible. You shall see! A promise is a promise. As thanks, my people will aid you and your mother. But you must promise me something in return!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"You must tell nobody that you saw me! Not even your mother!"

"I promise!" I answered.

And the little not-mouse vanished once more. The next day, I heard my momma say that hemming had been done, but she could not remember doing it. She thought she had forgotten to check it off. But I thought perhaps my little friend had helped.

The next day, the embroidery on a colourful skirt had been dutifully completed according to the pattern on a sheet my mother left out. It should have taken me three days, my momma insisted. But instead, it was completed in a night, thanks to my little friend.

The next night, I tiptoed out of my room to peek into the workroom, and saw my little friend with her many small friends stitching the final seams in a quilt that had torn and was in need of mending. In secret, I watched. And in secret, I made sure to leave bowls of finely chopped fruit and nuts around the workbench. They were empty the next morning, and dozens of socks had been darned.

My momma does not understand how, and I cross my fingers behind my back and tell a lie, because I have a promise to keep.

"Momma," I would say. "You are so good at sewing that you can do it in your sleep.

"She laughs. "Well, come here, dear. I am ahead of my work. Come show me your sewing.

Thanks to my little friend, my momma doesn't have to work so hard anymore.

Down by the shore, there's a story about a singing seashell. Down by the shore, where the waves pushed polished stones and sand into tide pools filled with coral and fish, a little girl tucked a freshly picked hibiscus into her hair. She sang to the flowers. The palm trees. The crabs that scuttled through the sand. The seabirds that circled far above, awaiting the schools that would rise to the surface when they sensed danger. Amongst the waves, she spotted a seashell. It was large, bigger than her small hands, and filled with enough seawater to make it heavy. But when she turned the shell over, expecting to find the hermit crab that lived within it, she instead heard a faint melody. She had no need to hold a shell to her ear to hear the ocean, for she lived beside it every day. But she wanted to know what song the ocean was singing to her so she could learn it for herself.

The little girl learned it well, and brought the shell with her so she could share the secret it held back home. But when she walked the shores back towards her village, she could no longer find the way.

Down by the shore, where the waves ushered in the debris from ships lost at sea, a little boy combed the beaches for a necklace he'd dropped. The tide was coming in, and it was only a matter of time before that which he had lost would be gone forever. Waves began to crash closer and closer, and the clouds warned of an incoming storm. The little boy quickened his frantic search.

But the little boy could not find his treasure. The waves began to knock against his ankles, and then his knees. He felt the sharp bump of a shell strike his shins. The waves left it at his feet. Curiously, the boy picked it up. He heard a song from within the shell, but he could not make out the words. He held it to his ear, and heard the sound of a little girl singing.

In a dream, in a dream…the sleeping island waits…In a dream, you will find what you seek…

Excitement filled the little boy, and he rushed along the beach to bring the seashell home. But when he tried to show it to others, they could no longer see him.

The little boy found the necklace he'd lost in his pocket.

Down by the shore, where the fisherman hauled in his catch, he spotted a seashell amongst the fish. He carefully plucked it out, intending to bring it to his wife as a gift when he heard the song emanating from its depths.

Sensing danger, the fisherman threw the shell back into the ocean, but not without fear that it was already too late. A siren song from the depths, calling souls searching for meaning to a place that could only be visited in dreams. The fisherman did not bring in the rest of his catch that morning. Instead, he opened the nets and set the fish free out of fear of more singing seashells.

When the fisherman returned home that day, it was to his family who welcomed him with open arms.

That day, the fisherman did not bring in his catch. But that night, he dreamed of crashing waves, a secret island, and the song of the sea. When he woke, it was to a world much richer, because he knew it was real.