Fourth Sin - [Action/Voice]
[It has been some time since Ganondorf has been in the village. After accepting a mission on the second, he merely took his leave the next day without communicating his absence to anyone. He made assurances his steed would be able to survive on his own and that was that. So after twelve long days of combat, he is finally back in the village late in the afternoon. Yet however powerful he might be, not even the Triforce would seem to stand up to the Shifters he encountered. Consequently he has returned to the village wounded, ragged, and just a bit on edge.
His injuries make his armor too uncomfortable and have made him concerned it has negatively impacted his speed. So today he goes to the Battle Dome wearing some loose, flowing black robes. Despite having received two Gerudo scimitars as his prize, he leaves all his weapons behind. He will manage to set himself up a simple scenario of a desert landscape, fighting shrouded warriors. Though not identifiable to anyone, he requested the computer model their abilities and combat abilities off some of his potential enemies within Luceti. More than that, he has disabled the ability to use powers. After being placed in this very scenario during his mission, he does not want to risk making himself so vulnerable. He needs to be able to fight without weapons, armor, or magic at his disposal. The way he was once excelled at in his training to become king. Despite all that, he is fighting with very clear injuries. Notably he walks with a painful limp. He lacks healing magic and has too much pride to request someone deal with it for him.
In the late evening, he will be walking with this same limp on his way to the plaza where he aims to request a hot meal from Seventh Heaven, which he intends to take home and eat in privacy. He is not looking for company or conversation, but he will act amicable if approached. As much as he can stand at least.
The next morning, on the 16th sees his very first snow fall, which he soon finds a distaste for. He deems this an appropriate time for a brief voice message to settle some business.]
Midna. I would have words with you. Let us find a place we can speak.
[That should do it. Unfortunately due to not knowing how to stop it recording, the journal will also catch him muttering to himself:] I grow weary of this accursed weather.
His injuries make his armor too uncomfortable and have made him concerned it has negatively impacted his speed. So today he goes to the Battle Dome wearing some loose, flowing black robes. Despite having received two Gerudo scimitars as his prize, he leaves all his weapons behind. He will manage to set himself up a simple scenario of a desert landscape, fighting shrouded warriors. Though not identifiable to anyone, he requested the computer model their abilities and combat abilities off some of his potential enemies within Luceti. More than that, he has disabled the ability to use powers. After being placed in this very scenario during his mission, he does not want to risk making himself so vulnerable. He needs to be able to fight without weapons, armor, or magic at his disposal. The way he was once excelled at in his training to become king. Despite all that, he is fighting with very clear injuries. Notably he walks with a painful limp. He lacks healing magic and has too much pride to request someone deal with it for him.
In the late evening, he will be walking with this same limp on his way to the plaza where he aims to request a hot meal from Seventh Heaven, which he intends to take home and eat in privacy. He is not looking for company or conversation, but he will act amicable if approached. As much as he can stand at least.
The next morning, on the 16th sees his very first snow fall, which he soon finds a distaste for. He deems this an appropriate time for a brief voice message to settle some business.]
Midna. I would have words with you. Let us find a place we can speak.
[That should do it. Unfortunately due to not knowing how to stop it recording, the journal will also catch him muttering to himself:] I grow weary of this accursed weather.