This Rock Floats

The continuing misadventures of Danmalaak, a goofy little merchant goron who finds himself neck-deep (and further!) into zorca mischief. Blog run by @semirampant-dwickery, in cahoots with @maudie-beans, and with a recurring role on the illustrated story blog @tales-from-hyrule.

[this-rock-floats]

Say hello to this incredible reference piece of Danmalaak, put together by the ever-amazing @songs-of-the-windfish!

Lore under the cut ^^

Danmalaak is non-native to Hyrule, coming to the Kingdom from a far-off archipelago called the Alae Islands. His people there are much more predisposed to water travel than your average Eldin goron, as their affinity to pumice and salt allow them to bob effortlessly on the ocean's waters. In fact, Danmalaak's buoyancy is so strong, that he has to wear a weighted diving belt to explore the ocean depths!

Of course, Danmalaak's water affinity does not stop there. The glass-like material covering the salt crystals on his back is a trademark "glaze" his people use to smooth out those nooks and crannies. It gives his body a more torpedo-like shape that helps reduce drag when swimming,, allowing him to swim surprisingly fast through the waves. It's fairly common for his people to switch between glazes as they age, repairing gouges and adding layers as they get older. As a result, elder Alaeans often look like cracked-open jawbreakers, showing layers of encrusted glaze that shimmer under the sunlight!

The sapphires across Danmalaak's front are a deliberate nod to stereotypical sailor outfits. It's also a bit of a nod to his sillier nature (even if his swim trunks are a much more obvious indicator). While Danmalaak's a fairly responsible fellow, having run a successful salvage scow before his current stint in Hyrule, his camaraderie with Cironus' goofball persona has equipped him with a lethal barrage of Dad Jokes. Expect your groaner threshold to explode when in the vicinity of these two!

Thank you again, @songs-of-the-windfish! You art is always fantastic <3

[songs-of-the-windfish]

NAYRU CLASS SEMIFINALS: MATCH SIX

 “ALLLLLL RIGHT, S.M.A.S.H.ERS! Who’s ready for another INCREDIBLE KNOCK-DOWN DRAG-OUT FIGHT?!”

Rudioso’s audience bellowed with approval. A number of them were raising gobs of various new foodstuffs with their cheers: stuffed pumpkin, pumpkin pies, pumpkin chili, fricassed pumpkin skewers, and more than a few fermenting tankards filled with something that looked suspiciously orange in color. Still more were brandishing new plushies: many bore at least a passing resemblance to common bokoblin; many more still had crudely-stuffed orange bobs shoved over their heads. By the looks of it, at least a few enterprising hucksters were making a killing off of their hastily-improvised merchandising.

“Don’t you KNOW it, folks - and I can guarantee you that this next fight’s going to be a DOOZY!”

With a flick of the wrist, Rudioso produced a pair of mallets from his robes, then swept low over the kettle drum over the Arena’s dais, covering a considerable portion of it with his massive, well-sculpted wings. Making as much a visual display as the actual sound, he bounced them low, producing a low, continuous drumroll that kept the audience’s attention downstage. 

In the three rows immediately above him, meanwhile, a flock of rito assembled, wearing color-coordinated outfits of brown, green, red, and brown again. They cheered, grabbing each other’s shoulders with their wings; thus enjoined, the three rows created a formation resembling an enormous, stylized submarine sandwich.

“Coming back to the S.M.A.S.H. stage with one of the arena’s ONLY perfect win-loss ratios on record…you’ve seen them fight! You’ve seen them fly! You’ve even seen one of their Sheikah victims eat CROW! Motivated by talent, flighty footwork, and the kind of raw hunger reserved usually for our Din-Class contenders, this one-armed wonder is ready to bring some HURT on the competition! Please put your hands together for the one, the ONLY – BIYINIAO!” @samjokjak

Not to be outdone, a group of zora flooded into the ritos’ section, not so much forcing them out so much as cramming the space above Rudioso with a throng of scales and feathers. Several of them had painted a crude set of shark teeth just below their pectorals, and they danced madly in the aisles, forming an anarchic throng of undulating fins, wings, and claws, with absolutely no sense of unified dance, motion, or even basic rhythm.

“But can they RETAIN that impossible record?! For facing them now is one baaaaad boy of the Bayou - the Shark who Put the Twili to Bed, the Volican Volcano, the Bane of Sitting Implements Everywhere! This fighting fish is no joke - You’ve seen him take a lightning bolt to the tail, and he still keeps coming, he STILL keeps swiping! Look out for his teeth, Biyiniao: you may be hungry for hoagies, but this is one fish stick who's out for some birdy barbeque! Ladies and gentlemen, won’t you give a Shattered Mast welcome back to the one, the only, THRASHIN’ THRESHHHHHH?!” @chaotic-zora

“Get ready to see some scales and feathers fly, for this is one battle that’s going to keep you at the edge of your seat - in three…two…ONE…”

dongggggggggg

“LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Jak vs. Thresh: Who will Triumph!

Jak

Thresh

Voting ended onFeb 25

[this-stone-rocks]

"GET HIS ASS, JAK! GET! HIS! ASSSSSS!"

"...Dwick, please tell me you didn’t put our winnings on the novice here? That zora looks ready to rip their throat out.”

“Naw, relax, Lydds. Ya boy ain’t dat stupid.”

“...Agree to disagree, but thank you for—”

“What I did was put a couple silvers inta da sammich shops ‘round here.”

“Silvers—Dwick, that’s a hundred rupees a pop.”

“It’s all good, Lydds! Kid’s drivin’ sammich sales left an’ right! We don’t need ‘em ter win da match, we jus’ need ‘em ter put up a good fight!”

“...To sell them as the Underdog Brand of the tournament, thereby driving up sales. Very shrewd.”

“Heh. Thought’choo’d like dat. Already payin’ diver-dends – here, wanna bite?”

“...Please tell me that’s something you bought with the profits. You’re not getting returns in foodstuffs, are you?”

“...Welllllllll…”

“DWICK.”

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Jak strolls onto the Arena with much more confidence this time, buoyed by their freshman victory over a seasoned Sheikah fighter. The fact they’re even here again (for the Semifinals, no less!) is a surprise to themself as much as it is the crowd. The fact they’ve even got groupies is a head trip, and it’s hard not to keep a strut out of their stride as they approach their opponent.

After all, they’ve already won a match they supposedly had no chance. Like the announcer said, that Sheikah was no pushover! That’s totally proof they’ve got an actual chance of taking the Championship, isn’t it—

Thresh strikes a pose across from them, hands on his hips. He looms before them, nearly a full foot taller and much more solidly built than Crystalline ever was (and, given the lack of anything covering his upper body, considerably more distracting). If it weren’t for the crooked grin and the sun overhead casting his front in shadow, he’d look almost super heroic.

He cocks his head, letting his tailfin sink low. He licks his lower lip with one long, narrow tongue.

“C’mere, pretty bird,” he says, leaning in. “Time for a takedown.”

Jak freezes, mid-step.

Oh, he thinks.  Oh no. Oh no I don’t oh no I don’t stand a chance oh Nayru what possessed me to come down here again–

“I–I, uh–” he stammers. “I-I know you are, but what am I?”

THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE–

Thresh looses a bark of laughter. He tosses his head, flicking the fins flanking it with his fingers, then raises his hands, wiggling his claws to make them sparkle in the blazing sunlight.

“Oh, come now!” he says, shifting his stance low. “Don’t be frightened, you’re just my next adorable little SNACK!”

The last word in that line is his tell; the moment he shouts it, he charges in, closing the distance between them with entirely too much speed for a literal fish out of water. Dragging his claws in the sand behind him as a makeshift drag chute, he pivots about, reaching out with his other hand to make a vicious swipe against Jak’s wing. Claws whirl in a worryingly wide arc - and if Jak had been where they were only a split second ago, they’d be sporting a nasty, gaping slash wound.

How fortuitous, then, that Jak’s instincts get the better of them. At the last instant, they leap away with a squawk of surprise: not backwards or to the side, as one might expect, but straight up, avian instinct taking over despite the missing wing to execute an impressive aerial backflip which manages to just barely clear Thresh’s swiping claws. Their tunic flaps behind them during the leap; one can almost see time slow as Thresh’s fingers pass below Jak’s hair, missing the lowest strands by a fraction of an inch.

“And we are starting with a BUNDLE of surprises from Jak!” yells Rudioso from the dais. “Who’d’ve bet on a Bokoblin Backside Rodeo from this rito?!”

Not Jak, that’s for certain. They’re so distracted by his reaction having a name that they nearly botch the landing from rubbernecking at Rudioso.

“A WHAT?”!

They’ve barely got the word out before Thresh is back on the attack, this time spinning about and leaping back for a full-body tackle. Again, Jak reacts mostly on instinct: leaping upward again, this time they descend on Thresh as he runs below, striding the length of Thresh’s head-fins as they ripple below them. A shame, perhaps, that their instincts don’t allow for more; a few choice talon squeezes along that tail would have made for some choice slash-work, pressing advantage they could use for the rest of the fight.

“--And then a Kolomo Basilisk Run to match Thrash’s Preysight launch!” calls Rudioso as Jak lands and Thresh skitters to a halt, rubbing the back of his head. “Are we really certain this is just some ordinary rito?!”

Thresh cackles, whirling about.

“Oooh, that felt nice!” he says, throwing his arms aside in a stretch. “Felt like a proper tail massage! Do it again.”

The sun glinting off his teeth is all the warning Jak gets before Thresh charges once more for them - same takeoff, same physicality, same impossible speed for someone that tall. Once again, Jak yelps and leaps - but this time, at the apex of their leap–

“--IS THAT THE JAK FROX DROP?!”

Rudioso isn’t wrong: with a flap of their wing, Jak pivots at the apex of their leap, hurtling forward with far more velocity than a simple falling object should. They angle their elbow, aiming for the back of the zora’s head, looking to catch Thresh in the same manner they managed to clock Crystalline before him–

–only for that tail fin to fly up, weave around the elbow, and catch Jak in the shoulder.

“Wh–”

Jak’s groupies wince in unison as the rito sprawls down Thresh’s tail, dazed by its sudden counter. The rito doesn’t smash into the ground, however: instead, the last of that tail’s length coils about their shoulders and flings them back up. It’s not a strong throw, just enough to keep them bobbing inexplicably in the air. That said, the force of the thrust is enough to spin Thresh such that he can catch them in his arms.

Thresh flashes them a wild-ass grin…

“Gotchu.”

…and then pounces, SMASHING them into the ground.

“Farore’s FANGS, S.M.A.S.H.-ites!” Rudioso bellows from above. “Look at that exquisite reversal straight into a Talonto Mountain Drop!”

The impact is enough to drive a plume of sand up around them. It’s perhaps fortuitous for Jak that they haven’t moved from the Arena’s center; all that loose material has taken most of the force of Thresh’s pinning attack, and Jak finds themself momentarily dazed instead of flattened. It leaves them perfectly able, however, to hear Thresh giggling into his ear.

“Oooh, I was watching that match of yours!” he coos. “You like those elbow drops, don’t you?”

“I-I mean–it worked once or twice, so—”

“For sure, for sure. I bet those hurt!...which is why I’m not gonna get hit with one.”

“Oh? Well, how about this?”

Jak shifts their weight from Thresh perspective - which immediately blurs, as Jak kicks him straight in the groin. 

“MMMMPH!”

There’s another collective wince from the audience, and Rudioso lets out a low, sympathetic whistle.

“Oooh! From one of our talons, no less - Thresh’s going to be feeling THAT in the morning!”

Jak shoves Thesh over with their wing, taking advantage of his momentary wheezing to scramble out from under the zora’s body and onto their feet. Flinging out their wing, they crouch low, strafing around him as he slowly gets back up himself.

“Man…low blow there,” he says between pants.

“Oh, um….sorry?” Jak says back.

There’s a pause as Thresh composes himself. A moment later, that trademark grin of his spreads again.

“Why?”

Jak blinks, taken aback.

“...Huh?”

“Well, I mean…that means I get to play dirty, too.”

Once more he charges for Jak, this time with a low stance and erratic pace that lunges to either side with each stride. Jak, unable to read which way he’s going, attempts to dodge with a sideways leap - and inexplicably dodges directly into Thresh’s tackle.

“ACKPHF–”

But Thresh isn’t finished. Not content to simply throw Jak back to the ground, he continues charging forward, carrying the stunned bird under his arm like a particularly floppy, disheveled football.

“Off like a SHOT! Thresh NAILS Biyiniao with a Lynel’s Embrace and he is just FLYING across the arena, going for - is that the H.M.S. Kooloo Limpah?!”

It is. Charging for one of the beached ships dotting the stage, Thresh wrenches Jak’s protesting body back up, holding them before him as though he were some particularly naughty marionette. Before Jak has a chance to react, however, he tosses them up in the air - and dives forward, smashing them in a gnarly shoulder check against  the ship’s broadside. The wood, bleached by the sun and weakened by the salt breeze, splinters, and the two of them spill into the ship’s interior.

“Oooh!” yells Rudioso, echoing the audience’s opinion before taking flight. “Smashed STRAIGHT into the Kooloo’s hull Thresh means BUSINESS, folks, can Jak turn this fight around?!”

Fortunately for at least some of the audience, it’s still possible to see both Jak and Thresh. This is far from the ship’s first pummeling, and a majority of the deck has collapsed enough that both figures’ collapsed bodies (and the galley they now find themselves in) are still visible inside. Still, most of the ship’s walls still stand, and for a good number of the S.M.A.S.H. audience, the most that can be seen is the rising pile of dust and sand from Thresh’s shoulder check. Rudioso circles above the fray as a result, bellowing updates for those less fortunate.

Jak is the first to stand - not for a lack of battle damage, but because the alternative is continuing to lie atop a pile of sharp tinder. They stagger upright, blinking blearily from all that bell-ringing, then skitter erratically from the laughing pile of lumber shifting and opening before them.

“Ha HAH!” cackles Thresh as the planks fall away, revealing a number of superficial cuts and scrapes from the rotted but no less sharp wood they smashed through. “Did I getcha? Did I getcha, li’l bird?”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, you did–”

Jak raises their wing to their beak, cursing themself for giving Thresh something to focus on. The damage is done: still staggering from the blow himself, Thresh locks eyes with Jak and licks his lips.

“Jawesome,” he says. “Then let’s wrap this fight up!”

“Crap.”

What follows are a number of swipes, dodges, hops, and gnashing teeth as Thresh does everything in his power to bring Jak down. Rudioso reports from above, bleating move after move to the attending audience. Jak, bruised and bloodied by the previous blows, does their level best to avoid being plucked and prepped for harvest by the ever-eager sharkman. 

Oddly enough, Thresh has accidentally handicapped himself. Large as he is compared to Jak, in such close quarters (with walls, counters, chairs, cookstoves, and cabinets to dodge through), he has to work extra hard to weave in and out of the galley they now fight in. Jak, meanwhile, is falling back on some fancy footwork, bobbing and weaving within the zora’s strikes and leaving him with naught but a few stray feathers to grab onto.

“Hold STILL!” Thresh shouts, attempting a leap (and catching a cabinet door across the arm for his trouble). 

“NO!”

Indeed, Jak isn’t giving an inch. Instead, ducking below the swipe, they slam the cabinet door shut, smashing it to splinters against Thresh’s arm. This is a feint: instead of cursing the limp construction material, they use Thresh’s momentary distraction to spring up, run up the zora’s side using their talons, and deliver a sick kick to his chest that drives the two apart again.

“YES!”

“Yes, INDEED!” bellows Rudioso as Thresh wheezes. “Biyiniao delivers a BRUTAL Lizalfos Sidewinder to Thrashin’ Thresh’s solar plexus! That’s some fleet footwork they’ve deliv – CHAIR TO BIYINIAO’S FACE!!!”

It’s finally happened. Even clutching his chest, Thresh has realized there are chairs in the galley…and so chairs must be chucked. One, two, three, four, five pieces of furniture clock Jak in the face - and while they have the same particle-board strength as the rest of the ship, that’s still particle board to the face. 

“I GOT YOU!” crows Thresh. “I GOT YOU I GOT YOU I GOT YOU I GOT YOU–”

“--NOW A CHAIR TO THRESH’S FACE!”

Rudioso’s caterwaul comes as the implement (this one a bit larger than the others) catches Thresh on the chin. It’s followed by another pair of rito kicks, both aimed at Thresh’s knees - and while one misses its mark, the other hits dead-on.

“I-I saw your match, too!” stammers Jak. And I-I’ve been training, too!”

It’s unclear just what kind of chair-based training Jak could be referring to, especially given their complete failure to avoid kissing five of them in a row. Still, whether due to that training, these specimens' structural integrity, or Jak’s sheer stubborn refusal to give up, they do seem remarkably unfazed by Thresh’s attack. 

Thresh, similarly, doesn’t seem too dazed by Jak’s own fusillade. If anything, he’s smarting more from the knee shot they delivered than the one to his face: Jak may have indeed done some damage there. Still, after spitting a few teeth into his hand, the zora flashes Jak a grin, then jumps back into the fray.

“Oooh, you were watching!” he squeals between strikes, stealing glancing blows against Jak’s side and shoulder. “So what was your favorite part? The Fists? The chairs? The fire?”

Jak, still not used to fighting and definitely not versus someone so well-versed in trash talk, is too flabbergasted to respond. They’re too busy dodging Thresh’s flurry and trying to get the occasional blow in to get more than the occasional distracted grunt in. They’re not doing too bad on that front, given their novice status, but that qualifying clause has been doing some increasingly heavy lifting as the match has borne on. Jak’s getting slower. Fatigue’s setting in. Thresh is getting more and more blows in. A niggling voice in the back of Jak’s head keeps warning them that their only advantage is that they’ve got more maneuverability in this galley, and–

“--And a spectacular Kilsie Kick-Shot to Thresh’s leg!” Rudioso calls out, still soaring above them. “Jak is getting all their money’s worth out of this galley - who would have thought to use Thresh’s size difference against him?!”

Thresh blinks, looking up - and then back to Jak. The zora’s eyes go wide - and he puts his hands to his mouth.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.”

Oh no.

And with one big, shit-eating wink, Thresh darts out one of the galley’s multiple holes.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, YES!” confirms Rudioso. “Looks like Thrashin’ Thresh is finished playing indoors - but is Biyiniao ready to do the same?”

…No?

But it doesn’t look like there’s much choice. While the audience can properly see Thresh prowling about the ship again, Jak’s operating off total ignorance. What’s more, they’ve missed Thresh giving the audience a theatrical finger to the lips - and while Jak’s groupies are refusing the implied instruction, trying to shout warnings to the rito, their shouts of support come through as garbled nonsense by the time it reaches them.

“Looks like Biyiniao’ll have to come out at some point…but which way will they go? And can they take the consequences?!”

It’s a high-stakes game of shark-and-minnow. Each time Jak inches towards an entrance, they’re met with a cacophony of advice. Each time they step away, the sound dies down. Whether Thresh is moving back and forth or remaining stock-still, the image outside each hole in the boat is the same: the kicked-up sands of the Amphitheater, the ocean about them, and the waving crowd above them.

And all the while, Rudioso flying above them.

“Round and around and around they go!” he cries. “Where they stop, nobody knows!”

Eventually, the suspense is just too much. Whether by mistake or design, Jak  hears the crunch of sand outside - and bolts for the one opposite. They burst from the ship, skittering from its interior as best they can, and–

It’s no contest. The battle’s taken its toll, and Jak goes down in one final tackle. It’s a brief burst of finishers from there: a shoulder check, a grab of Jak’s talons, and a sudden yelp from the rito as Thresh twists him into a pretzel.

“Hey, relax, bud!” he whispers in the rito’s ear, soft enough for the audience to miss as he raises the contorted ball onto his shoulder. “Ride this out and I guarantee you’ll feel like a million rupees tomorrow.”

Jak, confused and baffled, can only mumble.

“O…kay?...”

“Perfect.” 

And with that, he raises the squirming rito over his head and chucks them back in a backwards body slam.

They’re out like a light.

“FANTASTIC!” bellows Rudioso. “In an incredible end to this incredible fight, Thrashin’ Thresh NAILS Biyinio with a BEAUTIFUL Gorcoron Fallaway Suplex, ending this match with a TKO!”

As Thresh gets up, he slips the teeth he’d spat into a pocket in Jak’s tunic. “A little present to remember me by,” he coos to them; then, he stands back, allowing the medic squad to swarm them both.

“What a MATCH today, am I right?!” yells Rudioso above them. “Thrashin’ Thresh takes his place as the second Finalist, defeating Biyinio’s perfect win/loss record once and for all, and will face off against Vaati the Yiga Killer in this year’s Nayru Class Championship! Who will emerge victorious in our final match of the division? Stick around, and you’ll find out…at the SHATTERED MAST AMPHITHEATRE FOR SCRAPPERS OF HYRULE!”

[3leggedmagpie]

WHAM! Ooh, now that's gonna leave a mark. Come get your fresh magpie, courtesy of our sharky chef...Thresh (@chaotic-zora)! Congrats on the win!

Thanks to Maudie and Dwick for letting me be a part of this, and for hosting such a fun event! But the show's still going, folks...keep up with the final Nayru match over at @songs-of-the-windfish. See you there! I'm gonna rest up and grab a sandwich in the meantime...

[chaotic-zora]

Thanks for the awesome match Jak ( @samjokjak )! It was a fight to remember! Thresh is gonna be out here scouring the field to see if you lost any feathers, they want to keep one XD

[this-rock-floats]

WOW! Look at these fighters GO!

Man, it is WILD seeing these two are on their feet - and the way that rito was just FLIPPING AROUND in midair! Wonder what they do on their day job to make them move around like that :O

And YOWZA, Thresh just did NOT let up that whole time! Remind me never to get into a tussle with him!

...Hey, uh, Sardon, it is safe to grab something from Concessions now, right? I, uh, don't think I can measure up with Jak if I get drafted into a match ._.

[thewolfprospers]

Commissions for Oreo!

Since my last post about our situation, our cat Oreo has had a few vet visits with the bills to follow. While @semirampant-dwickery said it's nothing dire, I still want to help out and build up the funds to help pay them off. And so I'm temporarily opening up commissions!

We're still dealing with a lot on our end, so there will be five slots, and whether they're taken or not, commissions will close on March 1st. So first come first serve ✨

Without further ado, here's what's available!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Chibis

Chibis will be simplified characterizations with some shading, highlights and minimal backgrounds depending on the scenario.

Price: $20 USD

Additional character: $5 (1 character limit)

Two slots open

Examples:

Diana, Agra and Cironus belong to me, Sade belongs to Sjslayseverything, Zalfe belongs to @eve-of-halloween/@songofnewlife

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Portraits

Portraits will be colored and include more details, finer shading and highlights

Price: $40

Additional portrait: $10 (1 character limit)

Two slots open

Examples:

Vaati belongs to @kakarikotrio, Saphirion belongs to @becquerelsplash, Fin and Lurona belong to me

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Banners

Banners will feature one character fully rendered with a flat colored background

Price: $65

One slot open

Examples:

Zalfe belongs to @eve-of-halloween/@songofnewlife, Big Blue and Waves Garret belong to me

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

What I will draw!

Existing characters from fandoms, OCs, humanoids, animals/creatures, simple mech designs

Romantic/fluff that's at least PG-13

What I won't draw!

Anything racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic or ableist.

I'm not doing a "design my OC" You must already have an existing character/OC with visual references.

What you can do!

Email me at [email protected] with the title Commission.

In your email, provide which option you would like, along with details and image references of your character.

Extra info

All art will be done traditionally. I use alcohol markers, acrylic markers, gel pens and colored pencils.

Prices are in USD and payment will be taken upfront via paypal. I will send an invoice after a commission is confirmed.

When doing a commission, l'll send in a preview sketch, and when that's approved I'll get to work on finalizing it.

You may NOT use my art for NFT's, to use in training AI, or selling my work. These commissions are for personal use ONLY.

[this-rock-floats]

Commissions close March 1! Get your requests in now!

Maudie's work is PHENOMENAL and they are worth every dollar! Don't wait, get your request slot in before this offer expires!

[this-rock-floats]

Hoping to send a lil positivity and some smiles your way with Dan the man!

AAAAAAA ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

This is fantastic! I love how much chipper character you put into his features - and AAAAAA the DREDS

This really helped my day seeing this - thank you so much!

[songofnewlife]

Heading down from the So Temple, Zalfe takes a little detour to bother her "big brother" Fjord.

He loves her, he does...but he also can't stand her.

Featuring: Cironus (@tides-that-bind-us) Danmalaak (@this-rock-floats) and Vehmor (@leapingstarlight)

[songofnewlife]

Hi! This is the account behind @this-rock-floats. I'd like to submit Danmalaak for you bead project, if you're interested!

As noted in your post, here's six events, with some of the moods he experienced throughout:

Getting the first layer on his "glaze" (the material that smooths out the rocks on his back and makes it easier for him to swim)

Trepidation

Jubilant

Adolescent Glee

Finding his first shipwreck:

Elation

Surprise

Mild (earned?) Smugness

Getting caught in the explosion from the Demon Dragon's defeat:

Fear

Surprise

Blank Terror

Waking to find his ship destroyed (and all navigational charts leading home lost)

Sorrow

Grief

Self-recrimination

Self-awareness regarding the irony

Determination

Meeting Cironus and seeing him perform:

Intimidated

Surprised

Gleeful

Chummy

Finding out Cironus wants to spend time with the Zorphin (eventually without Danmalaak being around):

Sad

Guarded

Supportive

Encouraging

Direct

While the Zorphin don't have anything like a Glaze in their culture the bead that would best represent and mark the event is a green seaglass arrow. The yellowy green color speaks to it being a joyful milestone in ones story and while seaglass itself is usually tied to an event that brings clarity it serves a dual purpose of mimicing his glaze.

2. A marbled Orange and Yellow glass shell bead represents a physical discovery that was important to someone. Followed by orange and yellow swirl beads with tassles hanging from them means the event in their life garnered a bit of a rightful ego/smugness in their eyes.

3. A dark stone carved into a sharktooth represents a dangerous event the person went through followed by a warped rock with a red bead with 2 red metal tassles means that the event was a catastrophic event that posed great rist to the person. In this case a literal explosion.

4. A torn ship sail dyed red means that the specific dyed item had a deep personal tie to the person and the dark red dye meaning there is more negative emotions of sorrow when paired with pink spiral shells speaks to grief and dark rocks to the sorrow surrounding the event. With it being the sail of a ship this shows it was a ship that meant something to Danmalaak and the loss of it deeply saddened him. The green and Blue marbled gemstone rectangles mark a time of self discovery/reclimation and an evolution of ones state of being and mind.

5. A red twirled ribbon between two bones represents and unlikely meeting between two individuals with an orange to yellow gradient of beads showing that while it started with a slight wariness it warmed to a dear friendship. and Iridescent spiral shell paired with a green seaglass star means this relationship became a very dear friendship.

6. a split infinity sign bead that is purple on one side and pink on the others shows that Danmalaak went through a crossroad with someone close to him that has upset him. Seagrass represents new growth and oportunities however the purple and red color means it is for someone close to him and not him, when paired with the sandstone shell and grey square shows there is some guarded feelings and waryness to the event and the split ribbons one dark striped and one light striped means that while supporting and even encouraging their love ones to persure a new path different from their own, the idea of the seperation brings them sorrow.

overall Danmalaaks song beads tell a story of someone who tends to find the bright side of things even when life deals him a hard hand. He's steady in himself and his life for the most part but some future uncertainties around new changes have brought a tiny bit of turmoil even if its something small.

[this-rock-floats]

This is wonderful! It really conveys a lot of his character through color scheme, topology, and texture. I think you nailed it: Danmalaak is a guy who strives be genuine and supportive. He of course has his moments of personal pride, and privately worries that he is no longer the kind of person his friends really need or want - but he does his best to help them get what they need, not necessarily want.

Thank you very much for making this! I LOVE IT

[songs-of-the-windfish]

NAYRU CLASS: MATCH THREE

“Oh, honored guests of the Shattered Mast Keys, I hope you’re getting excited, because we are JUST! GETTING STARTED! 

“While our expert medical staff patches Mr. Tassa up from that incredible match, allow me to direct your attention to the shoreline - where if I understand it, our latest entrant–WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!!

“Yes, my friends, this bloody beast is just ITCHING for a fight! Just LOOK at that display with those fins! It’s going to be hard for their opponent to hold ‘em down with THOSE razor-edge clippers coming! Dare I say it - is this bitch baaaaad?!

“All right, then - put your haaaands together for Volica’s own, the Pain Train of their Domain, that burning crusade with the starry shades, THRASHIIIIIN’ THREEESSHHHHH!!!” @chaotic-zora

“And - wait, do my eyes deceive me, or is there someone else down there? 

“Yes! There, rising amongst the  shadows - friends, I think our latest fighter is out to make an impression - or, should I say, come out of one?

“…YES! There she is! 

“Folks, below you is one warrior who has been raring for this fight since the festivities started! Yes, naming Thrash as her target du joir, this Royal Guardswoman looks like she’s ready to rain some PAIN against the Roarin’ Zora! I certainly don’t want to get in the way of a good time - so whooooo’s ready for some fisticuffs from the Twilight Realm’s finest: the Transdimensional Terror, the Two-D Tanker, HERMIN THE BEEEEEAAAASSST!!!” @midonamiqui

“The fighters have officially faced off - yes, there’s that signature salute from Hermin, and – yes Thresh has flicked down their shades! 

“This is promising to be a wild fight, folks! ARE YOU READY?!

“IN THREE…

“TWO…

“ONE…

“LET’S GET READY TO RRRRRUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

dongggggggggg

Thresh vs Hermin: Who will Triumph!

Thresh

Hermin

Voting ended onNov 25, 2025

[midonamiqui]

Thresh belongs to @chaotic-zora , and the event is hosted by @tides-that-bind-us helped by @this-rock-floats !

[songs-of-the-windfish]

We resume our match directly after the events depicted here: a whirling dervish of razor fins, hair-braid ligatures, and so, so many teeth. Neither participant is above using their teeth, and it’s not long before both of them are bleeding from half a dozen bite marks. 

Both opponents have been using their individual strengths to great effect. Thresh’s size and multiple sharpened angles of attack, for example, give him a distinct range advantage. Hermin’s agility and natural teleportation ability, meanwhile, lend a distinct hand to her maneuverability and precision shots. The crowd roars as blow after blow rains down upon one another; after all, neither appears to be actively avoiding one another’s attacks, instead taking each on the chin (or from the chin, as it were) as they are delivered. This appears to be more a battle of attrition, and if the broken tooth shards in Hermin’s shoulder are any indication, both are doing a tremendous amount of attritting.

Partway through the fight, Hermin teleports herself out of the literal cloud of violence they’ve kicked up, grinning toothily from atop an opened ship’s porthole as she watches Thresh attempting to place a choke hold on his own tail fin. It takes a full six seconds before he puts together the pain at the back of his head, the strain in his wrists, and the snickering from high above him. As he looks up and lets go, she lets out a full-throated cackle, giving him a tongue-out salute as she slides around the porthole’s rim to hang from its base like a bat.

“Man, I’d’ve gone fishing if I’d known you would be beating yourself up for me!” she calls out.

“Ooooh, tough talk for someone who needs a break!” retorts Thresh. “What’s up, twili? Past  your bedtime or something?”

“Yeah - YOURS!”

She leaps from the porthole, teleporting mid-jump to catch Thresh from the back. Thresh, however, is ready for the blow this time, and Hermin’s eyes bug out as she catches a wooden chair to the chest.

“Where did THAT come from?!” 

Rudioso’s voice, heretofore telegraphing their attacks with encyclopedic accuracy, rings through both combatants’ heads even as the chair EXPLODES from the force. The accusation is obvious: has Thresh violated the rules by bringing a weapon into the arena?!

Thresh makes a face, then gestures to a pile of chairs placed haphazardly nearby, strewn in a pile of junk offloaded from one of the nearby beached ships. The implication is equally obvious.

“Oh. Well.”

Rudioso recovers quickly.

“In that case–Thashin’ Thresh just absolutely NO-SELLING the Beast’s Flash-Forward Duskercut with a Sideways Chair Pose and where did the Beast go?!”

Thresh looks around, confused, for Hermin is indeed nowhere to be seen. That same otherworldly giggle of hers projects across the arena, however, as Hermin does her level best to match Rudioso’s absurd sonic stage presence.

“Oh, don’t mind me! Just - two can play at that game!”

The chair pile explodes outward as Hermin plows through, chucking ordinance of all kinds in Thresh’s direction from the crook of her arm. Thresh just barely avoids taking a bomb fruit to the chest, which kicks up debris just behind him as it explodes - but two shock fruit and a keese’s wing nail him in the ankle, thigh, and tail fin, respectively, giving the audience a good split-second look at Thresh’s skeletal system before giving the fish-man a respectable char.

“That’s what we in the business call an Eldin Thunderstorm, folks!” cries Rudioso.  “But can Thrash come back from this?!”

Indeed, Thresh looks like he’s on the ropes - a few more blows like that, and he’s probably out for the count. Evidently sensing this, Hermin lunges forward, dropping the remaining items in her arms as she lunges out, teeth-first, for the same shoulder she nailed him in only moments previously.

Thresh tanks the hit, spinning from the attack’s momentum. In doing so, however, he backs straight into the pile of detritus, beaning Hermin as he lands shoulder-first into the ship's furniture. Hermin’s eyes cross from the blow as she disengages, rolling sideways - and comes face to face with yet another chair leg.

“--and a FLAWLESS Drunken Trebuchet from Thresh!” yells Rudioso. “Looks like that might have rattled Hermin a little more than she expected!”

Rudioso isn’t wrong. Hermin’s already trying to get up, but she looks a little wall-eyed. Thresh, meanwhile, has bent over, picking up another piece of unused ordinance. A grin slowly spreads across his face as he realizes what he’s picked up.

“Oh, Hylia, I JUST LOVE S.M.A.S.H.!” he yells to the audience. “Don’t you?!” 

The audience, in turn, roars in approval.

“In fact, I’d say it’s the most…”

Thresh hefts the chair…

…raises his ordinance - an unused fire-fruit…

“...Wonderful…Time…”

…plasters the chair with the fruit, setting it ablaze…

“Of the YEAR!”

….and SMASHES the back of the blazing seat against Hermin’s back.

Hermin doesn’t stand a chance. The blows rained over the battle, especially that last one from the chair pile, have finally caught up - and while the blow itself isn’t enough to do any lasting damage, the spectacle itself is enough to finally make her eyes cross. She slumps - and the crowd goes ballistic.

“INCREDIBLE!” Rudioso bellows over the audience.  “Thrash pulling a pitch-perfect Ode-to-Din Chair Pose that knocks the Beast out COLD! Medics, if you can be on the scene once I’ve done my countdown? ONE…TWO…”

As Rudioso finishes belting his referee’s count, Thresh bows low, plucking the teeth embedded in Hermin’s shoulder, and closes them in the palm of her left hand.

“Nice fight,” he whispers, grinning wide enough to show the gaps where those teeth should be. “For the road. Don’t worry, they’ll’ve grown back the next time we spar. “

The hand closes into a weak fist…but one strong enough to give a thumbs-up as Rudioso finishes his count.

“...and TEN! Folks, you’d think I’d run out of superlatives for this match, but I just can NOT get over how much each of these fighters are laying it on the line for these matches! Can I get another round of applause for Thrash and the Beast?!”

One had better believe he can.

“And ANOTHER round for S.M.A.S.H. in general! Because Thrashin’ Thresh is right - it IS the most wonderful time of the year!”

[this-rock-floats]

"WOW! I was, uh, not expecting the teeth!...Or all the zapping!"

"Hey, Sar, this how a usual match goes here? You gonna be all right when the Din matches start?"

"Does...does your dad get hit like that?!"

[this-rock-floats]

Reblog by @tides-that-bind-us · 1 image

💬 4  🔁 9  ❤️ 15 · FIN · ✨ Elsewhere on Shattered Mast Keys ✨ A nervous looking zorphin stopped in his tracks as they felt a shiver go down

Later Still...

"YOU MADE ME SWEAR THE BRO CODE!"

"YOU EVEN MADE ME INVOKE THE JB COROLLARY! And for WHAT?! What kind of disguise even IS this?!"

...Somehow, nobody else even noticed Cironus was there.

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Tour De Necluda 5.1: A Feast for the Eyes

Here we are with part 5.1 to @songofnewlife's part 5 of the Tour de Necluda! Food comas here we come!

Cironus was used to long distance swimming. His whole life revolved around migrating from place to place, but even so, as soon as they stepped ashore his legs felt like noodles.

“Tides, yes, I’m starving!” Cironus laughed. His stomach growled in response.

He shoved the embarrassment of it aside by quickly helping Zalfe and Danmalaak carry his cargo raft. She explained about the sleeping arrangements of zorphin and guests alike and smiled at the thought of a sleep pile. He couldn’t sleep in the water without fear of drowning, and on land he still only half dozed. How must it feel to get, as they say, a goodnight’s rest?

Not only that, now he and Danmalaak were going to get a hut of their own? There was something both strange and comforting about that concept. His pod was constantly on the move and even when they stayed in an area for a season; it was always out in the open. They had no permanent residence anywhere, they made no shelters. And when it came to sleeping, everyone took turns to allow each other a few hours of rest. It was all he knew, it was familiar and safe to him. Cironus never considered himself an easily jealous person, but there was an uncomfortable feeling welling up inside him.

While growing up, one of the harsher lessons in life was learning about what other zora thought of his people. According to some, his people were considered odd, reclusive, and terrifying due to their size. Because their appetites required so much he couldn’t blame others for thinking the zorca preyed on zora too. It was silly (and disgusting) but he tried to be understanding.

Now that he had a better perspective on the customs of others he couldn’t help but feel…lesser.

Are…we really just vagabonds?

Thankfully, that somber train of thought was interrupted when Zalfe brought them to their hut. As they pulled back the bead curtain to get a view of the interior, Cironus smiled.

“This is cozy!”

“Cozy?” replied Danmalaak. “It’s enormous!”

And it was. A bed large enough for Cironus to lay on was one large enough for Danmalaak to get utterly lost in. The floor plan was spacious, the shelving enormous; if either of them had harbored any concerns that Danmalaaks’ own belongings would somehow overwhelm their accommodations, those concerns died upon the opening of that beaded curtain. It even carried the acoustics of a decently-sized cavern interior, something Danmalaak’s footsteps confirmed as he scampered over to investigate the countertops.

“Looks like you’ll be sleeping in luxury, huh?” he said, running a finger over them before changing gears to look at the bedding. “Have to find out who assembled these - think they’ll ship these to Eventide?”

“Planning to go back?”

“Hm? Oh! My bad, force of habit. Still getting used to the idea of you changing addresses, is all.”

He reached up, just barely able to grab some of the linens to feel their softness.

“Still, curious who made these. I mean, you are on the tall side. Little harder to accommodate there.” 

“Well, you could always ask Zalfe!”

“Oh, right! Hey, Zalfe, who–”

The question died on Danmalaaks lips as he turned, seeing the room’s rattling shell curtains announce the zorphin’s departure.

“...Guess I’ll ask later. But yeah - what do you think, Shift-C? Think this’ll work for you?”

Cironus turned his attention back to the hut’s interior and gave it another once over.

“Definitely.”

“Cironus!” 

Cironus looked down as much as he could as Wee and Lili emerged from the shell necklace around his neck.

“Take us to that shelf over there, please.” Lili directed.

Cironus obeyed without question and took off his shell necklace and set it down on the shelf. Lili, followed by Wee, hopped out of the larger shell on his necklace and also began scampering down the length of the shelf, chattering as they did so. Cironus usually left them to their machinations…but his curiosity was piqued.

“What are you ladies up to?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wee replied. “We’re setting up our living space too!”

“Isn’t this a little small?”

Compared to your shell necklace? —no offense— No!”

Wee placed two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle, calling out the rest of the swarm that took up residence in Cironus’ shell jewelry. He began to see what Wee meant when he was reminded how many could bunker together in one individual shell.

“With some water and a bit of decor, this space will do us just fine,” Lili said,  nodding.

“Well, tell me what you need and I’ll be sure to find it for you, alright?”

“Oh, we’ll have a decent shopping list for you in no time,” Wee grinned.

Cironus let them be and turned to discuss his own arrangements with Danmalaak. It was a fun way to pass the time until Zalfe returned to fetch them for dinner.

============== After Dinner ==============

“Whoof. Boy,  when Zalfe’s mom says ‘every drop,’ she means it, doesn’t she?”

Danmalaak was curled halfway into a ball by the side of the table, his eyes slightly crossed from just how much stew he’d packed away over the evening. He’d only taken a small helping of it himself, dipping some of the nearby stones in it like a particularly rich fondue. Given the sheer scale difference between himself, Cironus, and the zorphin, though, that was far more than enough to fill him to the brim. His mouth probed the side of the stone table, more out of sheer habit than any particular desire to eat the furniture. The banquet had, after all, taken quite enough care filling him up in that fashion.

“Uuuugh…” Cironus groaned. 

Cironus was curled up in a similar fashion like Danmalaak. His stomach was on the cusp of being pleasantly full and miserable. That stew was dangerous. He considered himself a big eater, but he also had restraint. Not so when he took his first gulp of that hearty meal. He practically inhaled the contents of his first bowl, then scooped up his second, third, fourth…he lost count by his seventh.

“You can–urrp–say that again,” said Danmalaak. “Think…think I might roll anywhere I need to go for the next few hours.”

“I don't think I could get up even if I wanted to,” Cironus groaned. 

He realized that was probably the point. All around him he heard the soft snores of the zorphin, all fast asleep from the effects of a full stomach. The effect hadn’t quite hit him yet. The buzz from the Prickle Pear Wine was also doing a number on him.

“You, uh…you all right there, bud?” asked Danmalaak.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Oooogh, that’s right.”

Danmalaak winced, somewhat regretting his choice of words earlier in the day. “Sleeping in luxury” wasn’t exactly something zorca could do in the first place, something he’d been well aware of since the incident back on Eventide. 

As if reading his thoughts, Cironus said, “I’ll be alright, so long as I don’t freak the locals out with how I ‘sleep’ with an eye open.”

“...Still creepy as hell.”

The barb was clearly in jest, sold even more by the lazy grin on Danmalaak’s face. Still, though, he made an effort to stand up…and when the basic sit-up required proved too taxing for his overstuffed middle, he instead curled up and rolled in an unsteady, lurching path up to Cironus’ side.

“Ughhhh, shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, looking a little greener around the gills after uncurling than when he’d started. To Cironus, however, he looked up, slowly patting him on the tum, and said, “need someone to talk to this first night out of the water?”

“Sure, but don’t stay up past your bed time on my account,” he joked.

“Bad news there: you are my bed tonight.”

There was a brief pause as Danmalaak tried to clear his throat without inviting annoyed reproach from the hosts surrounding them.

“But seriously,” he said, keeping his voice low. “How are you doing this first night here?”

“I dunno.” Cironus groaned as he situated himself to where he could lay comfortably on his side and get a clear look at Danmalaak. “Ouugh— It’s still sinking in that we’re here. I thought once we reached the Isles something would click; that I’d find a sense of belonging. Don’t get me wrong, Zalfe has been hospitable but I still feel…out of place.”

“...Well, I mean, you did just get here.”

“Heh, yeah. And hey, no one’s lookin’ at me funny. Or you for that matter!”

“Look at us. Couple of cards.”

“Couple of dorks, is what we are.”

“And yet they tolerate you. Me, I knew they’d have no problem with, but you…?”

Cironus playfully, gently, elbowed Danmalaak in the gut.

“Mmmmph…Don’t do that, I’m having a bay-beeeeeee.”

“I’d call a doctor but I think they’re passed out too!”

“Har har…but seriously. Give it a little time. See how they act around you once they’re out of tour-guide mode. They’ve seemed fine with us on the way here - I think if anyone really objected to you being around, they’d have said something on the way in.”

“Right. And Zalfe wouldn’t have offered that invitation to join either.” Cironus bit the inside of his mouth in thought. “Just…old paranoid thoughts, that’s all.”

“I get you.” Danmalaak nodded to himself. “One of these days I’ll have to tell you about my Uncle Doloston and his time with a bunch of parakeets.”

“Wha—what’s that have to do with anything?”

“It makes more sense in context…but trust me, he also had some trouble adjusting to them as well.”

“To the parakeets?”

“Sorry…parakeet rito. I’m full, Cironus, give me some leeway here.”

“I suppose, since your stomach sure won’t,” chuckled Cironus.

Danmalaak grimaced. “That’s for sure. But seriously, Cironus. The point is, those paranoid thoughts’ll probably be there for a while yet.”

He paused a moment, straining to find some position where he wouldn’t be nauseously overfull. When that failed, he accepted his lot and continued.

“Your job, right now? It’s to beat those thoughts back…with a stick, if you gotta. Remind yourself you’re in a place with folks who clearly like you, and who are nothing if not talkative - and that if they truly had something against you they’d say it to your face. These guys seem pretty direct, you know?”

“Yeah, you’re right…” He turned his head slightly so he could look upward at the sky without bending his dorsal fin against the ground. “The paranoid thoughts are wondering when I should start being honest with them.”

“In which way?”

“I lied to Zalfe,” he glanced over to see where she was among the sleep pile of zorphins. “I didn’t tell her the truth about my exile. She knows I got kicked out—she got so fired up about it. But the clans did it for good reason. What if being here puts them in danger?”

Danmalaak cocked an eyebrow at his massive friend.

“...Did they do it for a good reason? I seem to recall a number of power ballads claiming otherwise.”

“Look, just because something was done for the good of the clans doesn’t make it hurt any less. I can be understanding and mad as hell. I’m diverse like that!”

“Really? If you’re so diverse, you know you can’t make good decisions when miserable, alone, and scared, right?”

Cironus knew he was right and all he could answer with was a derisive “PFF!” and looked away. He was very good at tuning into the emotions of others but Cironus absolutely hated tuning into his own. Danmalaak didn’t need magic to read him, especially when the zorca had such a terrible poker face.

“...Three days.”

“Huh?”

“That’s how long you should wait. One day to muscle your way through the culture shock. One for just losing yourself in the good vibes. And one to mentally prepare yourself for a task you really don’t want to finish. Then, and only then, bite the brick.”

Danmalaak tried to push himself up onto an elbow, then immediately gave up on it when his gut protested.

“But those first two days are important. Again, you can’t make decisions like this when you’re angry, tired, and alone, right?”

Cironus was sulking. “Mm-hmm…”

“Imma find you another bowl of stew if you don’t answer,” Danmalaak threatened.

“Yes! Fine! Ugh!” Still laying on his side, he crossed his arms as best as he could.

“Good! Three days it is. And I swear, if I find out you’re psyching yourself out about this during those first two days, I’ll find Zalfe’s mom and tell her you considered tonight’s meal ‘a bit light.’.”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I even memorized her name to do it! Oh, Loqua…”

“The salt in you knows no bounds, does it?” Cironus glared.

Somehow Danmalaak had just enough mobility to cross his legs and smile at him. Even sideways, he looked like a perfectly innocent jester.

“Tides, you can be so abrasive sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s the pumice.”

Cironus could never stay angry with him. Mildly annoyed at best, and even that never lasted long. Even when Danmalaak was lecturing him there was always something endearing about the small goron. He had a moment of brief sadness when he realized this reminded him of his late night discussions with Sardon. To avoid dwelling on the memory to where it soured his mood he playfully poked Danmalaak in the stomach.

“noooooooo!” cried Danmalaak in (only slightly exaggerated) discomfort. “my soft bits!”

The goron’s all-lowercase protest made Cironus laugh louder than he intended. He was brought up short when a sharp “SHHH!” came from one of the sleep piles and the zorca flinched, but he couldn’t hide his grin. Neither could Danmalaak, even as he placed a hand on Cironus’ breast.

“...You gonna be all right?” he asked.

“That’s a loaded question, buddy.”

“Fair. Think you’ll be able to…ahh, sleep okay tonight?”

“I’ll start with digesting all this stew first and see where we go from there.”

“Good. Now put me on top of you. We’re not getting back to the room tonight, and the side of your gut’s probably the perfect padding to sleep on.”

Cironus laughed, but quieter this time. “My first girlfriend said the same thing to me.”

“Good. You come highly recommended.”

“She dumped me.”

“Well, Jennifer never realized what she had.”

“Whaleen.”

“What?”

“Her name was Whalee–”

“I’m trying to sleep, Cironus.”

“Okay! Sheesh! Goodnight!”

[this-rock-floats]

Post by @tides-that-bind-us · 2 images

💬 2  🔁 4  ❤️ 22 · Interview Time: Sardon · ❖ “All right, give it to us straight, mac. Who are you, and why are you here?” “My name’s Sardon

"...And ME!"

A diminutive goron with distinctive red dread-rocks sidles up next to Kaso. He has to gently shoulder him to get his attention; after all, despite his age, the young zorca towers over him by a foot and a half.

"Hey, there! Aww, you're Kaso, aren't you! Your brother Cironus has told me a bunch about you!"

He grins at Sardon.

"Hey, big guy! Nice interview. Looking forward to seeing how you do against your dad. Think you can teach him a few tricks?"

Before Sardon gets a word in edgewise, however, he glances over at Kaso, trying to get his attention with a purple rupee.

"Hey, Kassy! Think you can do me a favor? I've gotta talk to your bro for a bit, but I wanna get a bunch of wrestler signatures. See, I, uh, cross paths with Cironus quite a bit, and I'd love to give him a bunch of souvenirs next time we meet...."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Kaso’s expression lit up when the rupee was placed in his hand, and all his focus on Sardon vanished, replaced by potential autographs he could collect. This was his new side quest and he had work to do.

“GOTTA GO! BYE SARDON GOODLUCK!”

“Amazing how that kid moves just as fast on land as he does in water,” Sardon joked.

But like Kaso’s attention span, that lighthearted mood vanished instantly and the mood shifted. Sardon couldn't help note Danmalaak’s usual cheery self, which at any other time would be normal. And at any other time, Sardon would be only too delighted to shoot the breeze with him – Danmalaak was his friend just as much as he was Cironus’! But Sardon’s last “visit” to see his brother left him confused, hurt, and without answers. He knew Cironus and Danmalaak lived together on Eventide Island, so with Danmalaak here on the island did it mean that his brother ditched him as well? Or was Cironus here too?

As soon as he was sure that Kaso was out of earshot, Sardon knelt down and gave the grey goron a stern look.

“Where’s my brother, Dan?”

[this-rock-floats]

Danmalaak grinned as Cironus' kid brother shot off, skipping across the rocky outcroppings in an improvised game that would only ever make sense to himself. Sardon wasn't wrong; it wasn't long before Kaso was pawing his way through the local crowds, a fistful of wrestling fliers already clutched in a fist above his head.

All too soon, though, the time for vicarious joy was over. Sardon now loomed before Danmalaak, face to enormous face, and the little goron found himself with a simple question whose answer would not be accepted well.

He sighed.

Well...the only way out is through.

"You know I can't answer that," he said, doing his best to maintain a stoic facade before this mountainous monster hunter.

It lasted for a little less than four seconds, after which he threw up his hands in a desperate supplicating gesture.

"...Because he asked me not to!" he said, his voice cracking slightly as he hurried to pacify Sardon. "He invoked the Bro Code, Sardon! You know how seriously he takes that!"

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Sardon's expression did not break, even when Danmalaak's will fell to pieces. In fact, as soon as the goron mentioned "the Bro Code" the zorca could have sworn he was seeing red.

"The Bro Code."

He spoke in a deadly calm voice.

"The Bro Code?"

His tone went up an octave.

"The. Bro. Code."

Sardon's lower eyelid began to twitch.

"THE BRO CODE?"

He slammed his fist down on the ground in frustration. How could Cironus do something so ridiculous and then drag Danmalaak into it? Who would put these self imposing rules on themselv--

"He knows the rules of the Bro Code are unflinching. THIS IS SO NOT FAIR! IM HIS BROTHER DOES THAT COUNT FOR NOTHING?"

Three goobers.

One brain cell.

Danmalaak and Sardon were currently not in possession of it.

[this-rock-floats]

"He invoked the JB Corollary," said Danmalaak. "I'm sorry. My hands are tied."

The JB Corollary. Danmalaak honestly had no idea what the acronym stood for. He only knew that Cironus and Sardon only spoke of it in the gravest of terms, and that he'd been instructed to never speak of it in a setting where Kaso could overhear. Breaking the Code after the Corollary had been invoked was the greatest sin one could commit, and could only be dealt with using the severest punishment possible: complete and total excommunication from the Brohood.

...At least, until the offender came back with enough food to sate the wronged party's appetite. And as Danmalaak was a very short goron who could only carry so much, he made damned sure he respected the Code.

"I can tell you he's okay, though," he said, not wanting to leave Sardon any more in the lurch than he absolutely had to. "Honestly, when I left him - you know, where he is - he was happier than I've seen him in a good long time. Like, he hasn't rehearsed that creepy 'boneyard' elegy of his in weeks."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

"Ohhh that little shit…" Sardon growled.

When they were children, he and Cironus often got into fights with one another. When their mother got fed up with their antics she suggested they find other ways to settle their differences, and that's when they started making up complicated rules as a way to prevent each other from resorting to violence as their first form of action.

If Cironus took the biggest portion of fish and Sardon wanted it, they would "discuss" who knew more species of jellyfish.

If Sardon didn't want his little brother tagging along Cironus made up a rule about singing the most embarrassing nursery rhyme (and usually ending it with "Cironus is the best")

Of course, it never lasted very long. Even now, as adults, they still found ways to get into scraps. They were all light-hearted, and their "rules" also became a little more uh…sophisticated. Hence the bro codes were invented, which were easier ways to keep particular secrets the other didn't want known.

The JB Corollary was one of Cironus' inventions. The big vow of secrecy, more binding than a pinkie promise or a spit shake. It was, in Cironus' words "The stuff I don't want ANYONE to know. EVER"

Cironus never made Sardon take the oath no matter what secrets he shared with his brother. And Sardon never took the meaning as an invitation that he could spill his secrets either. If anything, he was proud that it meant he was trustworthy.

Or so he thought.

Sardon was feeling things that he couldn't explain to Danmalaak in a rational way. If Cironus made the goron take the oath, then it was something his brother really didn't want anyone knowing. And it hurt for two reasons:

One, Cironus didn't trust Sardon anymore.

Two, Danmalaak somehow replaced Sardon in Cironus' eyes.

Despite his anger, Sardon didn't want to take it out on Danmalaak. After all, he was simply doing what a good friend would. For the moment, all he could do was breath deep, and put on a smile to hide what he was feeling.

Like mother, like son.

"I…thanks, Danmalaak. I can't tell you how worried I've been since seeing the message he left back on Eventide."

[this-rock-floats]

Were Sardon to read Damnalaak's mind, he wouldn't be quite as hard on himself as he was. He would see how uncomfortable Danmalaak was playing messenger between behemoths who could use his body as a kickball, not to mention the aggrievement he hid while playing the role. After all, he had agreed to do so, but there had been the unspoken implication between them: this was meant to keep Danmalaak out of Cironus' metaphorical hair while the latter adjusted to life among the zorphin.

And that was fine! That was okay! Heck, Danmalaak had encouraged the guy to make the move, to spend more time with...well, okay, maybe "his kind" was stretching things, but he'd certainly have more in common with Zalfe's pod than someone who was literally borne from a pile of pumice and salt. With the zorphin, Cironus would have more people to interact with, more histories to hear, more kids to keep him in trouble than a single salt goron treasure hunter could ever provide.

The point was, if Sardon was worried he'd been replaced, he hadn't. To put a finer point on a point: even if he had, it wasn't his pal Danmalaak doing the replacing.

As it was, Danmalaak returned Sardon's smile with his own, though not without a few notes of confusion.

"Oh yeah, of course! I'd hoped my own message there would at least smooth things over, but you know Cironus. When he wants to make a point--"

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Sardon's expression went blank.

"...your message?"

[this-rock-floats]

"Sure, the one underneath it! The one...telling you..."

Danmalaak's face froze as the metaphorical train delivering his message smashed into a brick wall. He clearly remembered writing that message below Cironus', going for friendly blue shades even as the big guy chose those worrying yellow ones, telling Sardon it would be okay, that he would be with friends, that, Hylia be willing, they'd meet up again soon. He remembered getting up, nodding with Cironus at the combined message, shaking hands with him, leaving the area to get his stuff together...

Danmalaak blinked.

His head turned vaguely, unconsciously towards the Isle of Song's direction.

"Ohhh, that little shit," he said.

[this-rock-floats]

Post by @tides-that-bind-us · 2 images

💬 2  🔁 4  ❤️ 22 · Interview Time: Sardon · ❖ “All right, give it to us straight, mac. Who are you, and why are you here?” “My name’s Sardon

"...And ME!"

A diminutive goron with distinctive red dread-rocks sidles up next to Kaso. He has to gently shoulder him to get his attention; after all, despite his age, the young zorca towers over him by a foot and a half.

"Hey, there! Aww, you're Kaso, aren't you! Your brother Cironus has told me a bunch about you!"

He grins at Sardon.

"Hey, big guy! Nice interview. Looking forward to seeing how you do against your dad. Think you can teach him a few tricks?"

Before Sardon gets a word in edgewise, however, he glances over at Kaso, trying to get his attention with a purple rupee.

"Hey, Kassy! Think you can do me a favor? I've gotta talk to your bro for a bit, but I wanna get a bunch of wrestler signatures. See, I, uh, cross paths with Cironus quite a bit, and I'd love to give him a bunch of souvenirs next time we meet...."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Kaso’s expression lit up when the rupee was placed in his hand, and all his focus on Sardon vanished, replaced by potential autographs he could collect. This was his new side quest and he had work to do.

“GOTTA GO! BYE SARDON GOODLUCK!”

“Amazing how that kid moves just as fast on land as he does in water,” Sardon joked.

But like Kaso’s attention span, that lighthearted mood vanished instantly and the mood shifted. Sardon couldn't help note Danmalaak’s usual cheery self, which at any other time would be normal. And at any other time, Sardon would be only too delighted to shoot the breeze with him – Danmalaak was his friend just as much as he was Cironus’! But Sardon’s last “visit” to see his brother left him confused, hurt, and without answers. He knew Cironus and Danmalaak lived together on Eventide Island, so with Danmalaak here on the island did it mean that his brother ditched him as well? Or was Cironus here too?

As soon as he was sure that Kaso was out of earshot, Sardon knelt down and gave the grey goron a stern look.

“Where’s my brother, Dan?”

[this-rock-floats]

Danmalaak grinned as Cironus' kid brother shot off, skipping across the rocky outcroppings in an improvised game that would only ever make sense to himself. Sardon wasn't wrong; it wasn't long before Kaso was pawing his way through the local crowds, a fistful of wrestling fliers already clutched in a fist above his head.

All too soon, though, the time for vicarious joy was over. Sardon now loomed before Danmalaak, face to enormous face, and the little goron found himself with a simple question whose answer would not be accepted well.

He sighed.

Well...the only way out is through.

"You know I can't answer that," he said, doing his best to maintain a stoic facade before this mountainous monster hunter.

It lasted for a little less than four seconds, after which he threw up his hands in a desperate supplicating gesture.

"...Because he asked me not to!" he said, his voice cracking slightly as he hurried to pacify Sardon. "He invoked the Bro Code, Sardon! You know how seriously he takes that!"

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Sardon's expression did not break, even when Danmalaak's will fell to pieces. In fact, as soon as the goron mentioned "the Bro Code" the zorca could have sworn he was seeing red.

"The Bro Code."

He spoke in a deadly calm voice.

"The Bro Code?"

His tone went up an octave.

"The. Bro. Code."

Sardon's lower eyelid began to twitch.

"THE BRO CODE?"

He slammed his fist down on the ground in frustration. How could Cironus do something so ridiculous and then drag Danmalaak into it? Who would put these self imposing rules on themselv--

"He knows the rules of the Bro Code are unflinching. THIS IS SO NOT FAIR! IM HIS BROTHER DOES THAT COUNT FOR NOTHING?"

Three goobers.

One brain cell.

Danmalaak and Sardon were currently not in possession of it.

[this-rock-floats]

"He invoked the JB Corollary," said Danmalaak. "I'm sorry. My hands are tied."

The JB Corollary. Danmalaak honestly had no idea what the acronym stood for. He only knew that Cironus and Sardon only spoke of it in the gravest of terms, and that he'd been instructed to never speak of it in a setting where Kaso could overhear. Breaking the Code after the Corollary had been invoked was the greatest sin one could commit, and could only be dealt with using the severest punishment possible: complete and total excommunication from the Brohood.

...At least, until the offender came back with enough food to sate the wronged party's appetite. And as Danmalaak was a very short goron who could only carry so much, he made damned sure he respected the Code.

"I can tell you he's okay, though," he said, not wanting to leave Sardon any more in the lurch than he absolutely had to. "Honestly, when I left him - you know, where he is - he was happier than I've seen him in a good long time. Like, he hasn't rehearsed that creepy 'boneyard' elegy of his in weeks."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

"Ohhh that little shit…" Sardon growled.

When they were children, he and Cironus often got into fights with one another. When their mother got fed up with their antics she suggested they find other ways to settle their differences, and that's when they started making up complicated rules as a way to prevent each other from resorting to violence as their first form of action.

If Cironus took the biggest portion of fish and Sardon wanted it, they would "discuss" who knew more species of jellyfish.

If Sardon didn't want his little brother tagging along Cironus made up a rule about singing the most embarrassing nursery rhyme (and usually ending it with "Cironus is the best")

Of course, it never lasted very long. Even now, as adults, they still found ways to get into scraps. They were all light-hearted, and their "rules" also became a little more uh…sophisticated. Hence the bro codes were invented, which were easier ways to keep particular secrets the other didn't want known.

The JB Corollary was one of Cironus' inventions. The big vow of secrecy, more binding than a pinkie promise or a spit shake. It was, in Cironus' words "The stuff I don't want ANYONE to know. EVER"

Cironus never made Sardon take the oath no matter what secrets he shared with his brother. And Sardon never took the meaning as an invitation that he could spill his secrets either. If anything, he was proud that it meant he was trustworthy.

Or so he thought.

Sardon was feeling things that he couldn't explain to Danmalaak in a rational way. If Cironus made the goron take the oath, then it was something his brother really didn't want anyone knowing. And it hurt for two reasons:

One, Cironus didn't trust Sardon anymore.

Two, Danmalaak somehow replaced Sardon in Cironus' eyes.

Despite his anger, Sardon didn't want to take it out on Danmalaak. After all, he was simply doing what a good friend would. For the moment, all he could do was breath deep, and put on a smile to hide what he was feeling.

Like mother, like son.

"I…thanks, Danmalaak. I can't tell you how worried I've been since seeing the message he left back on Eventide."

[this-rock-floats]

Were Sardon to read Damnalaak's mind, he wouldn't be quite as hard on himself as he was. He would see how uncomfortable Danmalaak was playing messenger between behemoths who could use his body as a kickball, not to mention the aggrievement he hid while playing the role. After all, he had agreed to do so, but there had been the unspoken implication between them: this was meant to keep Danmalaak out of Cironus' metaphorical hair while the latter adjusted to life among the zorphin.

And that was fine! That was okay! Heck, Danmalaak had encouraged the guy to make the move, to spend more time with...well, okay, maybe "his kind" was stretching things, but he'd certainly have more in common with Zalfe's pod than someone who was literally borne from a pile of pumice and salt. With the zorphin, Cironus would have more people to interact with, more histories to hear, more kids to keep him in trouble than a single salt goron treasure hunter could ever provide.

The point was, if Sardon was worried he'd been replaced, he hadn't. To put a finer point on a point: even if he had, it wasn't his pal Danmalaak doing the replacing.

As it was, Danmalaak returned Sardon's smile with his own, though not without a few notes of confusion.

"Oh yeah, of course! I'd hoped my own message there would at least smooth things over, but you know Cironus. When he wants to make a point--"

[gargoylesister]

GASP another one! This time it's My Other Old Man! Will your OC be a good fit with Comu!? There's only one way to find out!!! BBBBIINGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Too many big words 👀

[this-rock-floats]

First Row!

Erudite: Danmalaak’s primary hobby involves shipwreck studies, and he spends his spare time time poring over old ship manifests, star charts, and historical documents to predict wreck locations and to draw inferences on how each ship went down.

Courtly/Formal: Total miss. Danmalaak may consider his outfit sporty and a sight better than the mawashis most gorons in Hyrule wear, but most would probably find what he wears tacky to the point of offense.

Socratic: It’s the method by which he builds his theories!

Compassionate: He likes being a sounding board for his friends. He may not be able to solve their problems, as kingdom-spanning as they can be, but he’ll be there to help validate their pain and, hopefully, work their way through it.

Middle-Aged: Nope! He’s still pretty young, all things considered.

Second Row!

Scholastic: Book smart? Oh, yes! He considers it a virtue, and gets genuinely confused by people who profess contempt for the concept. 

Philosophical: It’s hard not to be when you end up losing everything and have to rebuild what you have. It keeps his brain busy in the long stretches between towns!

Refined: In artistic appreciation? Sure! In expressing it it?...not so much.

Calm: Generally, he's the most level-headed of any group he's in…outside of a fight, that is!

Direct: He gets confused by people beating around the bush. Just say what you mean! Don't make people guess at what you want!

Third Row!

Mind Over Matter: That requires a bit of physical coordination he doesn't have. Maybe for swimming and diving? But not so much anything else! 

Diligent: You get him on a project, by gum he'll keep at it ‘till it's done!

Able to withstand crushing depths of darkness: …more than you might expect! Danmalaak's got experience with pressure suits, and while his own was lost with his ship, he's well-trained in deep-sea free-diving! Give him an air supply and a way to weigh him down, and he's good to go!

Thoughtful: Danmalaak tries to pay attention to his friends’ needs, and tries to cater to them - not just in terms of finding gifts, but to encourage them to make choices that will ultimately help them grow and develop as people.

Fourth Row!

Committed: He's been in Hyrule for maybe two years and has enough material in his ledgers to freehand multiple papers on Daphnes-era ship architecture. He's committed.

Able to hold a conversation: He's got tales for every occasion, and will talk your ear off on the subjects that attract him! Even when he's unfamiliar with a given subject, however, he'll do his damnedest to listen, and will ask probing questions that'll let his conversation partner show their stuff.

Mature: Mostly? He does have a habit of dropping the brain cell at inopportune times, though - especially when in the service of a silly nonsense game that neither person's defined any rules for. Do not make him question the Bro Code.

Ethical: He's yet to be in a situation where his morals have had to be seriously tested, but by that same token he's never gone out of his way to screw someone out of a deal just to make a profit. Danmalaak's a straight shooter, and he's read enough about corrupt rulers and dickish merchants that he doesn't want to be associated with them.

Open Book: Straight as an arrow!

Fifth Row!

Conscientious: He cares! HE CARES!

Organized: …Until you see his conspiracy mood board. That thing's like an old road map: you unfold it, it's not getting folded back up. 

Flexible: Living on the road makes you used to it. He'll make himself homey in any circumstance - provided there's enough salt around to keep him sated.

Willing to go slow: Part and parcel of the travel experience. Anyone telling you that you’ll be booking it from one side of the Kingdom to the other is either lying to you or has a long trail of dead horses behind them. Danmalaak’s of the same mind when it comes to friendships: stick to them, avoid pressing them under high stress, and give them lots of time to air out. You’ll get there in the end!Patient: Unless  you’re holding a book juuuuuuuust out of range of him (which, given his stature, is basically four feet and above for him).

[this-rock-floats]

Are you Danmalaak's Type?

Rules: Create a bingo board using traits of your OC's type. Others can fill it in as their OC and see if they get a bingo. Comment on the post that you got a bingo (or didn't), or reblog with your completed bingo board added!

Doing a chart for this little goof! Feel free to let me know if you got a bingo on his chart or not!

Art by the wonderful @tides-that-bind-us <3 <3

Blank template under the cut!

[this-rock-floats]

Tour de Necluda Part 4.1: [RE] The Re Temple

A partner piece to @songofnewlife's beautiful fourth part of the Necluda Tour!...whose wonderful art has been shamelessly repurposed by myself and @tides-that-bind-us (the actual artist here) as part of a silly gag between two absolute goofs. We hope you understand...and enjoy!

Zalfe’s sudden onboard leap certainly caught Danmalaak by surprise. It was for the best that he’d stowed his records for the time being; while the zorphin’s entrance was certainly clean and elegant, the resident Alaean's surprised squawk would have sent reams of loose notes flying overboard.

Still, the invitation was far too enticing (not to mention authoritative) to ignore. The only issue, as Zalfe would say later, was Danmalaak’s involuntary predilection for upward seaside mobility. Cironus himself looked at the goron with some degree of concern - but Danmalaak had simply raised a finger, glanced at the raft’s interior contents, and waylaid his concerns with a simple “hang on a sec.”

When he resurfaced, it was with an odd-looking garment: a loose, heavy garment that looked like a modified muumuu with entirely too many hemmed-in pockets. 

“Lead-lined,” he said, pointing to one of them as he cinched its waistband with a long line of rope. “Or at least, it’s got a bunch of lead weights hemmed in all over. Helps counteract the buoyancy! Only thing is, I just can’t start actively swimming downwards, or it all slides off and I shoot back up like a cork. Mind holding this?”

That last part came as he finished cinching the waistband, which clearly bore about eight to ten feet more slack than it needed. He handed the end of the rope to Cironus.

“Probably easiest to tug me along. Just think of me as a big, stony balloon!”

==========

So it was that Cironus and Zalfe arrived upon the underwater temple, Danmalaak bobbing several feet above Cironus’ clenched fist, his free hand scribbling notes with a grease pen across a small whiteboard as he listened to Zalfe’s descriptions.

“Wow,” Cironus said after Zalfe regaled them with the story of Fjord’s mother. “That must have been one heck of a shell she offered!”

At the mention of invasive pests like starfish and urchin, Cironus nodded with a grin.

“I can take care of those,” he said, patting his stomach for emphasis. Every task seemed simple enough and it would keep him busy when he finally got settled. Plus, he would be helping. If he could make himself of use then hopefully there’d be less of a chance he would somehow get kicked out.

Zalfe brought him back to the present when she suggested they head up, if only to make sure Danmalaak didn’t drown.

“Right!” he turned to his friend who was floating above him, still dangling from his rope. “You doin’ good, buddy?”

Danmalaak, for one, didn’t appear to be struggling too hard. He’d been strangely cagey about the specifics, but from what Cironus had gleaned, either he didn’t need to breathe (being an animated pile of rocks) or he’d been trained sufficiently well in the art of free-diving that he'd not yet betrayed any appearance of struggling. Indeed, the goron had slid another whiteboard over the first, and was mid-scribble when Cironus voiced his question. He held up a finger (apparently one thing he couldn’t do was speak underwater), after which he finished the note, holding it at an angle so Cironus could read it below him.

The note consisted of a single phrase: the words “YOUR MOM?”, alongside a crude drawing of a conch shell and an arrow pointing towards the shrine. 

Danmalaak grinned, bubbles streaming past his teeth, and gave him a wink.

==========

At this point, it is incumbent to make sense of what Danmalaak was thinking when he wrote this note.

Zalfe’s explanation of Re Temple’s geographic- and theological importance as the Temple of Wishes was certainly interesting to Danmalaak, as were the kinds of wishes she mentioned Fjord’s mother making at the foot of the statue. Reflecting on Fjord’s own build made Danmalaak consider Cironus’ own - particularly given that Danmalaak himself barely came up to the zorca’s knees. He thought it would be amusing if it turned out that Cironus’ own mother came to this shrine and offered a similar wish. After all, between Cironus and his brother Sardon, she would certainly seem similarly spoiled by Nayru’s bounty!

==========

How unfortunate, then, that he could not say this idea aloud, and could only communicate it by whiteboard, where the nuances of language could be so easily lost.

What Danmalaak was unaware of was how such a simple phrase such as “YOUR MOM” could be seen as an insult.

As such, in response, Cironus gave his goron friend a deadpan stare.

And he promptly let go of the rope.

Danmalaak shot to the surface like a keese out of the Depths, popping out of the surface by an impressive three feet before landing in an equally unimpressive belly flop. Sputtering to remain upright lest his modified muumuu slip off into the depths below, he glanced, nonplussed, at the vague zora-shaped clouds below, and gave them a shout absolutely no one besides himself could hear.

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID?!”

[this-rock-floats]

Post by @tides-that-bind-us · 2 images

💬 2  🔁 4  ❤️ 22 · Interview Time: Sardon · ❖ “All right, give it to us straight, mac. Who are you, and why are you here?” “My name’s Sardon

"...And ME!"

A diminutive goron with distinctive red dread-rocks sidles up next to Kaso. He has to gently shoulder him to get his attention; after all, despite his age, the young zorca towers over him by a foot and a half.

"Hey, there! Aww, you're Kaso, aren't you! Your brother Cironus has told me a bunch about you!"

He grins at Sardon.

"Hey, big guy! Nice interview. Looking forward to seeing how you do against your dad. Think you can teach him a few tricks?"

Before Sardon gets a word in edgewise, however, he glances over at Kaso, trying to get his attention with a purple rupee.

"Hey, Kassy! Think you can do me a favor? I've gotta talk to your bro for a bit, but I wanna get a bunch of wrestler signatures. See, I, uh, cross paths with Cironus quite a bit, and I'd love to give him a bunch of souvenirs next time we meet...."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Kaso’s expression lit up when the rupee was placed in his hand, and all his focus on Sardon vanished, replaced by potential autographs he could collect. This was his new side quest and he had work to do.

“GOTTA GO! BYE SARDON GOODLUCK!”

“Amazing how that kid moves just as fast on land as he does in water,” Sardon joked.

But like Kaso’s attention span, that lighthearted mood vanished instantly and the mood shifted. Sardon couldn't help note Danmalaak’s usual cheery self, which at any other time would be normal. And at any other time, Sardon would be only too delighted to shoot the breeze with him – Danmalaak was his friend just as much as he was Cironus’! But Sardon’s last “visit” to see his brother left him confused, hurt, and without answers. He knew Cironus and Danmalaak lived together on Eventide Island, so with Danmalaak here on the island did it mean that his brother ditched him as well? Or was Cironus here too?

As soon as he was sure that Kaso was out of earshot, Sardon knelt down and gave the grey goron a stern look.

“Where’s my brother, Dan?”

[this-rock-floats]

Danmalaak grinned as Cironus' kid brother shot off, skipping across the rocky outcroppings in an improvised game that would only ever make sense to himself. Sardon wasn't wrong; it wasn't long before Kaso was pawing his way through the local crowds, a fistful of wrestling fliers already clutched in a fist above his head.

All too soon, though, the time for vicarious joy was over. Sardon now loomed before Danmalaak, face to enormous face, and the little goron found himself with a simple question whose answer would not be accepted well.

He sighed.

Well...the only way out is through.

"You know I can't answer that," he said, doing his best to maintain a stoic facade before this mountainous monster hunter.

It lasted for a little less than four seconds, after which he threw up his hands in a desperate supplicating gesture.

"...Because he asked me not to!" he said, his voice cracking slightly as he hurried to pacify Sardon. "He invoked the Bro Code, Sardon! You know how seriously he takes that!"

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Sardon's expression did not break, even when Danmalaak's will fell to pieces. In fact, as soon as the goron mentioned "the Bro Code" the zorca could have sworn he was seeing red.

"The Bro Code."

He spoke in a deadly calm voice.

"The Bro Code?"

His tone went up an octave.

"The. Bro. Code."

Sardon's lower eyelid began to twitch.

"THE BRO CODE?"

He slammed his fist down on the ground in frustration. How could Cironus do something so ridiculous and then drag Danmalaak into it? Who would put these self imposing rules on themselv--

"He knows the rules of the Bro Code are unflinching. THIS IS SO NOT FAIR! IM HIS BROTHER DOES THAT COUNT FOR NOTHING?"

Three goobers.

One brain cell.

Danmalaak and Sardon were currently not in possession of it.

[this-rock-floats]

"He invoked the JB Corollary," said Danmalaak. "I'm sorry. My hands are tied."

The JB Corollary. Danmalaak honestly had no idea what the acronym stood for. He only knew that Cironus and Sardon only spoke of it in the gravest of terms, and that he'd been instructed to never speak of it in a setting where Kaso could overhear. Breaking the Code after the Corollary had been invoked was the greatest sin one could commit, and could only be dealt with using the severest punishment possible: complete and total excommunication from the Brohood.

...At least, until the offender came back with enough food to sate the wronged party's appetite. And as Danmalaak was a very short goron who could only carry so much, he made damned sure he respected the Code.

"I can tell you he's okay, though," he said, not wanting to leave Sardon any more in the lurch than he absolutely had to. "Honestly, when I left him - you know, where he is - he was happier than I've seen him in a good long time. Like, he hasn't rehearsed that creepy 'boneyard' elegy of his in weeks."

[this-rock-floats]

Post by @tides-that-bind-us · 2 images

💬 2  🔁 4  ❤️ 22 · Interview Time: Sardon · ❖ “All right, give it to us straight, mac. Who are you, and why are you here?” “My name’s Sardon

"...And ME!"

A diminutive goron with distinctive red dread-rocks sidles up next to Kaso. He has to gently shoulder him to get his attention; after all, despite his age, the young zorca towers over him by a foot and a half.

"Hey, there! Aww, you're Kaso, aren't you! Your brother Cironus has told me a bunch about you!"

He grins at Sardon.

"Hey, big guy! Nice interview. Looking forward to seeing how you do against your dad. Think you can teach him a few tricks?"

Before Sardon gets a word in edgewise, however, he glances over at Kaso, trying to get his attention with a purple rupee.

"Hey, Kassy! Think you can do me a favor? I've gotta talk to your bro for a bit, but I wanna get a bunch of wrestler signatures. See, I, uh, cross paths with Cironus quite a bit, and I'd love to give him a bunch of souvenirs next time we meet...."

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Kaso’s expression lit up when the rupee was placed in his hand, and all his focus on Sardon vanished, replaced by potential autographs he could collect. This was his new side quest and he had work to do.

“GOTTA GO! BYE SARDON GOODLUCK!”

“Amazing how that kid moves just as fast on land as he does in water,” Sardon joked.

But like Kaso’s attention span, that lighthearted mood vanished instantly and the mood shifted. Sardon couldn't help note Danmalaak’s usual cheery self, which at any other time would be normal. And at any other time, Sardon would be only too delighted to shoot the breeze with him – Danmalaak was his friend just as much as he was Cironus’! But Sardon’s last “visit” to see his brother left him confused, hurt, and without answers. He knew Cironus and Danmalaak lived together on Eventide Island, so with Danmalaak here on the island did it mean that his brother ditched him as well? Or was Cironus here too?

As soon as he was sure that Kaso was out of earshot, Sardon knelt down and gave the grey goron a stern look.

“Where’s my brother, Dan?”

[this-rock-floats]

Danmalaak grinned as Cironus' kid brother shot off, skipping across the rocky outcroppings in an improvised game that would only ever make sense to himself. Sardon wasn't wrong; it wasn't long before Kaso was pawing his way through the local crowds, a fistful of wrestling fliers already clutched in a fist above his head.

All too soon, though, the time for vicarious joy was over. Sardon now loomed before Danmalaak, face to enormous face, and the little goron found himself with a simple question whose answer would not be accepted well.

He sighed.

Well...the only way out is through.

"You know I can't answer that," he said, doing his best to maintain a stoic facade before this mountainous monster hunter.

It lasted for a little less than four seconds, after which he threw up his hands in a desperate supplicating gesture.

"...Because he asked me not to!" he said, his voice cracking slightly as he hurried to pacify Sardon. "He invoked the Bro Code, Sardon! You know how seriously he takes that!"

[songs-of-the-windfish]

Interview Time: Big Blue

❖ “All right, give it to us straight, mac. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“All right?? All right yourself, reporter lady. Now, see–” 

He jabs himself in the chest with his thumb.

“–I say I’m Big Blue, buuuuuuuut people around these parts call me Boss Brawler. Why? Because when Chell is gone?”

He spreads his palms wide, giving a lopsided, assured grin.

“Oh, yeah. I’m in charge.”

⟡ “What has been your experience in training and conditioning for this event?”

“Oh, nothing special, just your booooog-standard strict schedule every morning, noon, and night.”

He luxuriates in dwelling on the same syllable for several seconds straight, though he eventually starts ticking off items on his fingers.

“Let’s see. Morning, you’ve got your salmon and halibut-studded omelet - nothing too heavy,  but plenty of egg, you know, to get the gullet going. Then you’ve got your trout shakes before your early morning constitutional through the islands, stopping to sample the coconut palms out by Parella Haven - you’ll have to make sure ones you crack open are the proper ripeness, nothing upsets a good workout like a dry rind before noon - and, of course, bait-balling that school of cod that shows up in the southeast part of the archipelago. ‘Course, I’ve got a rule about the cod. You know, a hundred chinups in Tijo Skerry for each pass you make through that school, minus the number you manage to catch in the maw passin’ through.” 

He sniffs, closing his eyes. 

“Encourages precision, y’see. Work smarter, not harder, get a trout in the mouth, you ain’t goin’ south.”

A nonplussed Tracy glances over at an equally confused Oohuu, shaking her head and muttering an exasperated “what?!” Penn, meanwhile, is dutifully and eagerly jotting down every word as gospel truth.

“Then you got your practice bouts in the Amphitheater. Get your glutes in a good lather (Fat Fin goes for the legs, you see), then a couple rounds punching the walls on Steel Islet southeast of there. Now, you’ll want to pick up some of the tilapia skewers on the way. People say they’re a bit on the faaaaaatty side to do any good for you, really, but they’re not really working up the rich and powerful lather I am, so it’s not really any big deal. And you’ll need that calorie count for when you’re doing your evening laps around the main isle, though not if you’re just in time for the Grouper looper that comes in around the early evening time. Then you go down the continental shelf for a bit, down by the clam beds, and you spend some time wrenching open the giant clams that show up down there. Remember, only dine on every tenth one you open - don’t want the harvest to dry up, you know?”

There’s a long pause…and he lets out a single laugh.

“Heh.”

Beat.

“Dry up. Because we’re in the ocean.”

He grins casually at Tracy, who looks back, agog.

”I crack myself up.”

Beat.

“...What was the question again?”

❖ “Why do you think you have what it takes to be a S.M.A.S.H Champion?”

“Ohhh, Tracy bo-basey, I don’t have to think about what it takes–”

“Good thing, too.”

“HEY! Wait your turn, Fat Fin, the adults are talking.”

Big Blue shoots a dirty look at Fat Fin–who lazes in his seat, clearly unconcerned with Big Blue’s warning, openly licking his lips as he grins at the whale zora.

“Now, as I was saying, I don’t have to think about what it takes to be a champ. Because I am that champ. I snag that belt off Master Chell’s shell every few years–”

“When they let you.”

“Fin, I am warning you.”

⟡ “What do you think separates you from the rest of the fighters?”

“Well, I–”

He breaks off, narrowing his eyes at Fat Fin, daring him to interrupt again. Fat Fin, for his part, smiles innocently, squirming in his seat like the scheming little screwball he is.

“...As I was saying. Er. As you heard Master Chell say. What I have that the others don’t is wee little thing I like to call gumption. Iiiiiiiit takes a lot to keep up with the Master’s teachings, but as their premier student and seventh-generation master-in-training, I make it my life’s work to preserve the fighting arts for the world to enjoy. I like to learn, you see, and to teach the Sacred Arts to anyone worthy of coming to these here islands. Really teach the kiddies how to open up a can of whup-ass, you know?”

❖ “I see you looking at that roster! Who’s on that list that you’re looking forward to taking on?”

“Here, gimme.”

Big Blue lets out a long chuckle, holding the chart in his hands and leaning against the table as he looks down the tournament schedule.

“Oooohhhhhh, gotta say I like these new faces! Just an absolute…sea of eager youngin’s looking to bring the hurt on us old-timey boys! Well, I look forward to seeing you try. I warn you - you better bring your best, because I don’t go down easy!”

His expression just SOURS as he sees Fat Fin’s face on the placard. He GLARES at the real deal, whose grin is becoming positively Grinch-like as he tilts his head in Big Blue’s direction.

“DON’T. SAY. ANYTHING.”

Fat Fin tosses his head, miming a zipping motion over his mouth – then clicks his teeth at the whale, whose face is growing positively red.

Big Blue addresses the reporters.

“See? SEE?! AND THEN THERE’S THIS ASSHOLE! That…BLOWHOLE BREATHER! That no-good, freeloading, smarmy, sponging, attention hogging SHOWBOAT of a–”

“You breathe through your blowhole too, B.B.”

“MY NAME IS NOT BEEBEE!”

Big Blue forces himself to stop, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he draws a hand over his face. After a few seconds, he addresses the reporters again.

"You see what I have to deal with, here?...but moving on. With…certain exceptions, everyone on this list is a wonderful candidate for this year’s smashing! You’ve got Esis, Mr. Perfect Powerhouse himself? (@gargoylesister)...Well, for certain definitions of the word, definitely, hahah!  The kid can really bounce back! Wonder if he’s learned anything in the meantime? Ooh, and you’ve got the Yiga Killer showing up! (@kakarikotrio) Always good to see a rook get in the ring. New blood, new technique, it’ll be interesting seeing if they cross paths with the Master of the Yiga. (@aleielle-of-roshar) And Booooooob Koblin! (@gohan2z) Talk about a hit from out of nowhere, was he on anyone’s radar last year?  Oooh, yes, and over in the Din Class bracket…”

He scans the heavyweight bracket. See Sardon’s name.

He looks over to Fat Fin, tapping the boy’s face on the placard.

“...This your brat?”

Fat Fin shrugs.

“He’ll kick your ass either way.”

Somewhere off in the distance, a faint call of “Thanks, Dad!” can be heard.

“Moving on. Ah, I remember your promo, Fjord! (@songofnewlife) That’s riiiiight, you think you can take me on because your dad’s a blue whale!...Well. I won’t stop you trying. Everyone deserves their fair shake at the title! Everyone deserves to try their hand at the best–”

He freezes, seeing Dwick’s name. (@this-stone-rocks)

If his face had gone red earlier, now it goes positively crimson.

“EXCEPT YOU, YOU DISGUSTING! DISGRACEFUL!, BLOATED! ROTTING SAD-SACK PILE OF DISCOUNT AEROCUDA GUANO! WHAT’D YOU SPAWN FROM, SOME COMPOST HEAP MADE OF DURIANS SOMEONE SHOVED IN A MOBLIN’S SNOUT?!”

Big Blue throws the placard on the ground before him with such force that it explodes in a million pieces. Tracy and Oohuu take a step back, glancing at one another; Penn, however, seeing a moment for some perfect timing, leaps forward, pen in hand, and yells the next question to him.

⟡ “What do you want to say to them?”

“I AM GOING TO END YOU, THUNDERCRUSHER! I AM GOING TO RUN YOUR REMAINS THROUGH A BOMB FLOWER REFINERY! AND THEN I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU EAT YOUR WORDS!...OR MAYBE I MIGHT DO THAT BEFORE THE BOMB THING! I DON’T CARE!”

He pauses, not so much to calm down as to load more threats into the chamber.

“ACTUALLY I DO CARE! I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU EAT YOUR WORDS! AND THEN I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU EAT DIRT! AND I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU EAT THE DIRT THAT THE WORMS EAT! AND THEN THE BOMB REFINERY THING! YEAH! THAT! YOU’RE GONNA RUE THE DAY YOU TALKED SHIT ABOUT MASTER CHELL, YOU HEAR ME? RUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEE!”

His veins are popping out of the side of his skull.

❖ “How do you see that match going? What’s your strategy for going in?”

“Oh, you know, I think I’m just going to kick his ass.”

This time it’s Penn and Oohuu who look at each other.

⟡ “Is there anyone on there you’re afraid of taking on?”

“Afraid of? Pssssshhhh. Big Blue doesnt afraid of anything. They could all come at me at the same time and I wouldn’t even blink.

And, uh. I’ve got the history to back it. See, you go back to, say, SMASHELL ROYALE XXXVIII? That year? Whole roster decided, you know, “hey, let’s all gank the big guy together. We’ll all share credit, everyone gets a better chance of reaching the Finals, yeah? Except I’m there waiting for it since they all decided to talk about it ahead of time.  Fifty guys. Me. Barracks over on Warrior’s Respite.”

Big Blue runs a thumb across his chin.

“Short tournament that year. That I’ll tell you.”

❖ “And what do you want to say to THEM?”

“Boss Brawler’s waiting for you. And baby, you tussle with the Boss?

Big Blue clicks his tongue.

“You gonna get demoted.”

⟡ “Anything you want to say to your fans?”

“Nawwww.” 

He winks.

“Boss Brawler speaks through his fists, not his words.”

“COULD’VE FOOLED ME!”

“OH, THAT IS IT–”

The reporters flee for their lives as Big Blue and Fat Fin "stage" an impromptu “exhibition match.”

[this-rock-floats]

GROUPER

LOOPER

grouper looper

WHAT