Red Dingo

Go ahead, as long as you state that I'm the author or at least some form of crimson canine. Like I said, I can't promise I'll finish it but I'll try my best.

Ooh ooh...you could use the Mogall as a basis for their sprites!!!

Volug/Soren Support [spoiler=Support C] Volug: *sniff* *sniff*…(You are the tactician to the blue-haired one, right?) Soren: Hmm? Pardon, I cannot understand your language. Volug: You… are tactic to blue-head… Soren: Blue-head? Oh…um yes I’m Captain Ike’s strategist. And you’re one of the Wolves from Hatari? Volug: (Yes) …I mean…yes. I… Volug. Soren: Volug. My name is Soren. Volug: Soren… Soren: Yes. Are we done here? You might need to practice your speech some more. Soren turns to leave. Volug: Wait... Soren turns back. Soren: What is it now? Volug: You…(How do I say this right)…like Micaiah… Soren: What? Volug: You…half-Laguz? Soren: I’m sorry, you are mistaken! Volug: But you carry mark… Soren: I’m not Branded…this is a Spirit Charmer’s mark. Volug: Hah hah…(don’t think you can fool my nose.) Soren: That’s enough. I don’t have time to idle away! Soren Leaves Volug: (Wait…is my Common really that bad?) [spoiler=Support B] Volug: Ah…Soren! Soren: Hmm? You again? Volug: I sorry. Soren: What? Volug: Nailah say Branded hated here…called parentless by Laguz…and must hide amongst Beorc. Soren: … Volug: (She said you’re scared of others knowing because they might shun or kill you). Soren: The Goddess declared that such unions of Beorc and Laguz is an abomination, the Brand marks the offspring of such blasphemy. They embody the sins of their parents, so both Laguz and Beorc abhor them. Most often they are abandoned after they are born. In truth I find them pitiful. Volug: (I never heard of such a thing…) In Hatari…Branded not hated. Soren: … Volug: Branded accepted …part of pack like Beorc and Laguz. Soren: …Nonsense, you obviously don’t know the Common Tongue well enough to understand what you’re saying. Besides, this subject has nothing to do with me. Soren Leaves Volug: (What sort of barbaric country is this land? Beorc and Laguz fighting wars? Herons being massacred? Parents abandoning their children?) [spoiler=Support A] Soren: Volug…You said Branded were accepted in Hatari? Volug: Yes…they sacred kin. Soren: Sacred kin? Volug: Children… parents sacrifice much to bring them to world. Brand seen as sign of true love, so must be honored. Soren: Your country…sounds like a good place. Volug: Not perfect…but home. Soren: There is a green haired swordsman who is…like me. Volug: Like you? Soren: I should think he would like to speak to you of Hatari. You’d become friends. Volug: Friends? (Are you and I friends?) Soren: I guess we are… Volug: !!! Soren: … Volug: You know… Soren: A little…because you kept pestering me, I thought it might make things easier. Volug: Hahahah…

Can currently be found here: http://serenesforest.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=53872 Give it to me hard. I can take it. Chapter 2 is released. When I thought this up for a hack/fangame idea, I thought to divide the story into multiple campaigns/books.

So a couple years back I had an idea for a hack that chronicled the Scouring that would have been a pain in ass to actually make. I'm more of a writer than a programer. However, I couldn't let go of the idea, so I began writing the story in the style of an epic fantasy. I have present tense prologue and past tense first chapter. Both are pretty rough WIPs and I can't guarantee that I will finish the story. It's just my idea of how things may have gone down in Elibe 1000 years ago. [spoiler=Prologue] Prologue: What legend would call the Scouring began as a series of wars between Man and Dragon over a century. The Age of Peace and Prosperity that preceded it was already sparsely remembered. Once, the Dark Continent of Elibe was ruled by the mighty dragons who shared their wisdom with the newborn human race. What started the first war that catalyzed the next and the next? Perhaps it was the men who learned to tame the lesser cousins of the Sky Tribe. Perhaps it was the fire dragons, who had kept humans under a strict yoke. The truth like everything else became lost to memory, for the works of both Men and Dragons were lost to the rekindling flames of war. It was only in the very last war of the Scouring that the Eight Heroes emerged, the Ending Winter occurred, and humans finally achieved victory. On a night like any other night, the proud warriors feast and revel in their great hall, celebrating their victory against another enemy they vanquished that day earlier. It was one more victory since they built their fort on Mount Bern. The gold haired lord of the manor presides over the festivities, bestowing honors to his kinsmen. Three youths now stand before him newly blooded from their first taste of battle. The veterans sing testament to their deeds. The lord already knows of their valor having led the charge himself, but listens intently and proclaims them warriors before every man, woman, and child of the hall. The son of the lord watches with gleaming eyes. For though he is still too young to see battle, he dreams of the day he will fight by his father’s side. After that, the veterans sing each other’s deeds and make oaths of fealty to their lord once more. Deeper in the night, the children go to sleep. There brothers in arms, mirthful and drunk, take their wives to their beds aroused with passion. The gold haired lord makes love to his lady as they do every night. When they are finally spent, he and his wife fall asleep. Their chamber suddenly shakes, rousing them awake. They hear men and women scream of horror. The chamber shakes again, as though Mount Bern herself shudders. The lord’s retainers plead for him and there is no doubt: they are under attack. The lord hastily girds himself and takes up his sword while the lady goes to their son. From the battlements he sees flame and smoke in the direction of the granaries. He orders his servants to put it put it out and makes for tower, praying to that his fears are unfounded. Then his heart sinks as he hears roar and the worst is confirmed when he sees their enemy. For it had not been the flaming missile of an enemy catapult that started the fire, but the breath of an ancient foe: a dragon. For the first time in ten years, a dragon now assaults them. He orders a retinue to evacuate the wives, children, and elders, then goes to aid his men. Still weary and inebriated, they look with new and old upon sight of a wyrm. But they see their liege draw his sword and remain at their posts with courage renewed. Arrows and ballista bolts fly at the beast, and many hit. However this is not a Sky Dragon or its wyvern ilk that resides in the Highlands, but a Fire Dragon. Though not as agile as its softer cousins, its fiery wings take no damage from the wooden shafts and its hardy scales resist their iron. The lord takes command of a ballista, aims, and lets it loose. Whether by luck or skill, the bolt strikes the dragon in a soft point at the base of its neck. It howls in pain, light in its eyes go out, and its wings turn to smoke. The smoldering corps falls into the side of the mountain. The warriors cheer their golden haired lord, singing his name. A second roar drowns out their revelry and they look to see two more Fire Dragons descend upon the keep. New horror takes the lord’s heart, for he had never known three dragons of any tribe to assault just one keep. And he knew now that their home is lost. The screams of his people rouses him, and he takes off in their direction his men following after him. Then he sees a drake, just as large the first one he felled, bearing down upon his subjects, his wife and son among them. It rears its head and readies its flame, an arrow strikes its eye and it sees the lord, who drops his bow and draws his Wyrmslayer. The lord charges forward closing the distancing. The dragon inhales. He jumps with his sword raised. The dragons looses its flametongue. The lord screams as the flesh on his side sears and blisters and burns. But through the pain unthinkable, he strikes at its head. The enchanted steel splits through the hide and skull, into the brains of the wrym. Blood spurts up like a fount. The beast roars and swings its head up in its death throes, throwing off its slayer. Its wings go out and its un-pierced eye goes dim. Then the Fire Dragon crumbles. The son and the lady go to the lord, his side cooked and his leg shattered from his fall, but still he lives; still he rises; still he stands. Yet he knows his death is near. So he orders his surviving warriors to take his family hence. He commands them escape the fallen keep and find safer lands. His men reluctantly obey and take his crying wife and boy and subjects to the secret tunnels to slopes of Mount Bern. The lord waits alone in his ruined fortress as the third Fire Dragon, far larger than the first two, looks down upon him. He looks the creature in the eye smiles at his fate. The son sees the rest as he is carried off towards the tunnels. He sees the dragon’s hateful breath immolate his father. He will see it again and again in his dreams as he and his people flee the Highlands as it is overwhelmed by dragons in numbers unheard of. That night, the boy makes a vow to whatever god might hear him, an unforgiving vow to rid the land of dragonkind. He swears it on his name. A name that shall live on in legend: Hartmut. [spoiler=Chapter 1: The Little Hero] For nigh a century, humans and dragons fought in a bloody war. Dragons, for all their superior vitality and wisdom, could neither match nor replenish their numbers as prolifically as humans. Both sides suffered severe losses until the Fire Dragon leader, Logi, was defeated decades ago. For a time, the humans settled and divided amongst themselves. Then the Highlands fell to a surge of Fire Dragons and the flames of the Scouring were once again renewed. Seven years later, the First Kingdom of Men, Aquleia, readies itself for war. Their monarch, Karolus Magnus, dispatches an army to the lands known as the Lycian Coast, to secure their borders against oncoming menace. It was sunrise when the Aquleian Army reached sight of their destination: a fortified town on a hill along the bend of the River Laus. Their leader, Lord Roland surveyed the landscape of the enemy army with his two lieutenants. He was somewhat short for a man his age, with blue hair and blue eyes. He wore a gold embroidered blue tunic over tan breeches and under a blue cloak and pauldrons. Strapped to his side was a thin rapier. “What do you think my lord?” asked Sir Loholt the Green, a cavalier so named for the color of his hair and armor. “Shall charge against their heathen axe fighters and crush them beneath our hooves?” asked the other cavalier in a fiery tone befitting his unkempt crimson hair and matching plates. “I think not, Sir Griflet.” Roland answered calmly. “We may have an advantage in numbers but they have the high ground. We could not take the town without suffering considerable losses on both sides.” “Perhaps, my lord, we should consult the defector,” said Loholt. “Good idea, have Reyance bring him to me.” “With pleasure, my lord,” said the green cavalier, pretending not to notice Sir Grif rolling his eyes. Roland smiled at the rivalry going on between those two. Loholt was always dutiful and formal in his language whereas Griflet would be overly familiar even to his superiors. Where the former would only share his opinions when asked, the latter was quick to make suggestions. Where Loholt was meticulous and careful, Grif was hot blooded and headstrong. Both came to blows over a myriad of sundry things from the substantial to the superficial. Loholt returned with a two men behind him. One was bald headed Sir Reyance, clad in heavy blue armor. The other was an unshaven man dressed in rags, Wiglaf. The cloaked defector bowed before the mounted lord. “How may I be of service today,” asked Wiglaf. “How may I be of service today, my liege,” Loholt corrected. “No need for etiquette lessons, Loholt,” said Roland. “I request advice considering how to approach our foes before us.” Wiglaf blinked. “I don’t see what your issue is. Just storm and burn the city like you did our stronghold.” “Watch your tongue villain,” said Grif. “Lord Roland didn’t spare a thief like you just so you might insult him.” “Peace,” said Roland and the red cavalier fell silent. “The stronghold was filled with only brigands and thieves. This town is home to elders, women, children, and craftsmen. I’d prefer if we could take it without doing much harm to them.” “I didn’t think you Aquleians were so concerned about that…heheh,” said the thief. At that Loholt moved for his sword but a gesture from Roland stayed his hand. A grateful Wiglaf continued, “If I recall correctly, Ambrose is the leader of this town. He will not surrender so readily without bloodshed. “However, the people of the Coast have a little a method of resolving fights between evenly matched armies in order to avoid lengthy and unnecessary battles. Each army selects their strongest representative to fight in mortal combat with army of the defeated submitting to the victor.” “Would they agree to such an arrangement with us?” “Perhaps…I suppose it would depend on what you want from them.” “Very well, we shall send a missive to Ambrose to meet with us.” Roland started back from his tent, his men following him. Under the sun of noon, the leaders of the two armies met. Roland and his retinue stood before the tall swarthy Ambrose and his thanes. “So you are the one called Roland who threatens our land,” said the axe wielder. “And you must be Ambrose. On behalf of the First Kingdom of Men, well met,” said Roland. “The First Kingdom of Men…is that what you Aquleians call yourselves? Tell me, why do you invade our lands?” “We seek to unite humans against the threat of the dragons. I’m sure you are familiar with the fall of the Highlands.” “Aye, we have heard such news from people in east.” “King Magnus believes its only matter of time before they attempt to take the rest of Elibe, including the Lycian Coast.” “So he’s sent you to conquer us before they do?” Ambrose grinned. “I’ll admit, that is the truth of things,” said Roland. “He believes that humankind must be united in the coming war by any means necessary. But I will be honest though, as mighty as our forces currently are, I’d rather not destroy your town in open warfare.” “Hah! You make it sound like you could.” “For sooth, I cannot say for certain. We are superior in numbers and well equipped. While we could eventually overwhelm your men, it would not be without great loss. You have an advantageous position and a mighty reputation as a fighter, Ambrose. You could win out a war of attrition should the winds favor you, but not without a great cost to your side as well. Join our forces as part of the First Kingdom so that we proclaim ourselves both victors of this battle and whatever the future holds in store for us.” The fighter scratched his beard. “You have a way with words, Roland. Truth be told, the news of dragons has been a great concern of mine. I remember as a child, the bloody battles my forefathers fought in those bygone days. However do not think that I am deceived. You would have me bend the knee to a foreign king with naught a drop of bloodshed. Furthermore, you already are in a superior position. I have no assurance that we will not be made slaves in this First Kingdom of Men.” “If there must be bloodshed, then let it be that of two warriors of our choosing as I heard the people here are custom to do,” said Roland. “I volunteer myself for this contest.” This surprised both Ambrose and Roland’s comrades. Loholt and Griflet thought for sure that one of them would be chosen to champion for Roland’s army and nearly came to blows again over which it should be. Ambrose however had not expected this azure haired youth to be familiar with the customs of these lands and traditionally the leader selected his second in command to fight in such contests. “You certainly have surprised me. Why do you put your own life on the line?” “You said why yourself. I’m already in a superior position, so this is to make double sure of my intentions by betting my own life. Either outcome, the least amount of blood will have been shed for victory. So do you accept such terms?” Ambrose did, though he hesitated when deciding his own champion. He considered volunteering himself as young Roland but decided against it. Though he felt slightly ashamed at not being as brave or fool hardy as the little lord, part of him did not want to be the one to kill this man. Part of him did not want this lad to die at all, though he did not know why. But someone had to fight and die. That was their way. Instead his comrade, Breoca, volunteered to himself to fight Roland. He was as tall and hardy swordfighter, proven on the battlefield. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were green. He wore a leather jerkin along with woolen trousers. His iron broadsword was strapped to his back by a bandolier. “I’ll break this man’s puny weapon and show these invaders our might,” he boasted to his roused comrades and to Ambrose, who quietly nodded with conflict in his heart. On the other side of the field Roland’s men did their best to dissuade him from this course. “Surely you can’t mean to risk your head for the sake of these barbarians,” said Loholt. “Let take on this fool. Even on foot, I can match his blade.” “No, let me,” said Grif. “No one can best my lance.” Reyance, known amongst the company for his reticence, broke his silence for the first time today, “My lord Roland, it is indeed unbefitting of your station to fight this underling. That is the place of we who are sworn to serve you.” “I thank you all for your concern,” said Roland. “However it is for sake of both our armies and the families that live here that I do this. This is the path of least bloodshed, and I intend to walk it.” He walked past his retainers but then paused and looked back. “I am slain today then Loholt, I trust to honor our agreement and take our army back to Fort Ostia. Reyance, I hope you will deliver the news to my father. And Grif…try not to get yourself killed in some ill fated attack vengeance.” All three knights saluted him and he continued his march. On a clearing with a lone tree, Breoca waited, sword in hand. Roland drew his own rapier. The fighters saluted and began their duel. The two first circled, sizing each other up. Breoca closed the distance first with his sword raised. Roland sidestepped the strike and thrust his sword at his foe. Quick witted Breoca retreated and blocked the lord’s stab. Roland threw his cape over his rapier and thrust again. Breoca retreated blocked again…his sword blocked air. Roland had feinted and lunged, hitting his mark in the side and drawing first blood. Breoca groaned and doubled back, gripping his wound. It might have been fatal had he not retreated in time. However he knew he could not afford to fight on the defensive now. He leapt up, somersaulting into an overhead swing, which Roland just barely dodged. He followed with another swing, then another. The blue haired lord backed once and blocked once, nearly knocked off balance by Breoca’s larger sword. His foe seized on the chance and thrust forward. At the same time Roland twisted away towards the lone tree. Blood ran down his left arm where Breoca’s sword had cut him. The dark haired swordfighter pursued with another overhead strike. His sword jerked in his hands, its blade caught on a branch. Roland flourished his rapier, light going down the length of its blade, and lunged. He struck home, stabbing his foe in the heart. Breoca’s eyes bulged and blood seeped from his mouth. His grip on his sword weakened. He sank to his knees, looking through his killer at nothing. His mind kept racing, desperately trying to get blood but it continued to pour through the hole in his heart. Then his vision darkened, until Breoca finally passed away. The people on both sides held their breath. Roland solemnly walked back to his comrades. Ambrose’s men took Breoca’s body and sword to bury together. Ambrose himself walked up Roland and acknowledged his defeat by Roland’s army. “Still I mourn the loss of my comrade.” “Let Breoca be remembered by both our peoples as a hero, one who gave his life that we may be united,” Roland proclaimed. “You are a strange man to sing the praises of a mortal foe, Lord Roland. However, you are one that I can trust. I’d be glad to fight beside you,” said Ambrose. Roland smiled and but then grew faint. He was taken back to the camp where his wounds were treated with vulneraries by Einhart the steward. As endured the chastisements of his friends, Roland made plans to join forces with the people of the Laus River and add their strength to the First Kingdom of Men. Roland had no knowledge of the eyes that watched him from afar in a dark chamber. They were the eyes of robed men and women peering into a looking glass, a wondrous device from the lost age of Prosperity. One leader amongst raised a staff before the image of Roland. It was a staff whose head was a rune marked band that looped in the shape of arrowhead around the red crystaline center. Bands of red cloth hung from the sides of the staff. The crystal in the staff glowed. “He has potential,” said the holder of the staff. “Are you certain?” said a hooded woman. “The Aum staff does not lie. He has an ample amount of Aegir…” “But will he resonate with one of the weapons.” “We can only hope,” their leader replied. “It is not long until the dragons make their next move.”

Foraging – occasionally restores a small amount of hp when unit stands on natural terrain. (skill+luck/2)% Treasure Hunter – occasionally gain a small amount of Gold when unit stands on manmade terrain. (skill+luck/2)% Shade – unit will not be attacked by enemies with less skill while standing on evasion boosting terrain. Graceful Body – higher avoid with max hp.

Yes, I read up about Thracia's movement stars and thought, "how can I make this $#!%%ier?"

If you fix That One Level, I will bless your feet (figuratively speaking).

Or you could do that.

I was trying to think of some way to balance it out so that it would be all but impossible to activate more than once on any given turn. In other words something that avoids the following scenario: Tethys dances for Ephraim Encore Activates Tethys dances for Franz Encore Activates Etc. But maybe it should be a different formula could allow for a more reliable activation rate like (Lvl/2 - (X*Lvl/2))% where X is the number of times the skill activated on that given turn. This way, at Level 20 your Dancer has a 10% chance of being able to dance again which turns to 0 after 1 activation.

Encore - Str% that a Dancer can be selected again after dancing (thereby letting you renew movement for more than unit per a turn).

I've been fiddling with it a little bit and made a Deku Scrub animation similar to Deku Link's slide attack. Of course I don't know enough about hacking to properly to make it a working attack that the actor will use in addition to it's regular movements.

Someone beat me to it. They were impressed and wanted to invite you to their community. By the way, do you know about Hylian tool box? It's a tool developed for hacking OoT. You can create custom enemies, custom maps, and even replace Link with different characters. With this you could even...oh I don't know, create Hylian guards that might spawn and attack Link when he kills NPCs?

So the skellies have been drinking their milk this time around, eh? Will the story go into further details about the origins of monsters and the Demon King?

The Dragon Tribes of the Jugdral/Akaneia Storyline have more in common with the Goddess of Tellius than they do laguz (the ability to indwell mortals, creating blessed weapons and bloodlines, reincarnation), I'm not so sure they are descended from the Zunanma.

The mod itself is cancelled but the I think records of its development were for future hacking reference. Despite the ultimate break down of the project, they really did learn how to do some really neat stuff. There a multitude of less ambitious but very impressive mods underway that owe their existence to the work these people did. [/media] [media]

The site might be unsightly but the community has developed several hacking tools to put custom maps and even completely new models into the game. You can even create custom enemies and animations. If you want to include features in your mod like say royal guards that actually try to attack you and defend NPCs, this is the place. The Ura Restoration Project was an attempt to mod OoT into what people believed Nintendo actually wanted Ura Zelda (the planned DD extension to OoT) to be. Not just having remixed dungeons like Master Quest did but entirely new items, enemies, cutscenes, the works. The project progressed and evolved over several years, however it was cancelled when a simmering conflict between the leader and the rest of the community came to a boil. I'll spare you the details, just that there were a lot of delays, some lying, and abuse of power involved. However, this website has a host of resources from the efforts of the people who worked on that project. There are hacks in the works that have entirely new areas inserted into the game. I really think you could learn a lot from the community there, and they probably would be interested in what you've managed to do.

I'd be more interested in a Support covering the implications of a Laguz-Beorc romance since Laguz lose their ability to transform and when they have a child with a Beorc.

https://www.the-gcn.com/ Have you been to this website? It's dedicated to Legend of Zelda Rom hacking projects and the members there would really be interested what you've accomplished. I suggest you register and post your work there. Just don't ask about the URA project since it's a bit of a sore spot.

Stephen Colbert is gonna rant about this one.

Where's the bear mug?

It's a bit rough around the edges right now but you've got a great foundation to build on.

There are a lot of punctuation and grammar mistakes. For one thing, you confuse the plural and singular forms of verbs almost regularly. For another, there's also needless repetition of words. Some of your choices prolong sentences that would be better off more concise. For instance: "She explains emotionless and she tilts her head down to glance toward the throne, where Zephiel would had sat if he lives." Revised, it would be: "She explains emotionlessly while glancing at the throne where Zephiel would have sat if he lived." Other than that, there are plenty of other writing errors that are too varied and numerous to specify. Finally, you need to break up your paragraphs, because a lot of your story is one big wall of words. Separate your lines based on what part of the narrative you wish to convey in which paragraph. Also a character's dialogue usually deserves to be its own line rather than spliced to bigger passages. I don't intend to be mean but I get the feeling that either English is not your first language or that you wrote this down in a hurry.

This is so yes.

Honestly, that was the impression I got from Varkade's scene. However, if you want to illustrate his tactic further, have him remark "A good answer..." or "Very well," to signal to his approval or, more accurately, lack of disapproval to Renair.