This is an RP blog for Octavo from Cadence of Hyrule: Crypt of the Necrodancer Featuring the Legend of Zelda, affiliated with Isola Radiale (but also open to indie RP).
Octavo is a bard and sorcerer who sought to subvert a divine prophecy by taking the ordained heroes out of the equation. Unfortunately he died, badly.
As punishment for his theft of the Triforce, which he used to create his magical Golden Lute, he was trapped in a time loop until he agreed to give it up. He refused, convinced he could find a way to break the cycle.
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Does your character need music lessons? Octavo can teach them.
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"Somehow I feel "Better" might be subjective." Was the only thought that could run through Rapi's mind as she followed Queen up to the Golden Ward. For something that was active not too long ago seeing it practically abandoned was just that little bit more foreboding...
"You're going to shoot a bunch of them in the air? That's not actually that bad of an idea. Not like anyone else is using them now in the first place either."
After some finagling with the fireworks, Queen sends one soaring into the comet-scarred sky. When it explodes, the resulting pattern of sparks looks vaguely like Mr. (Ant) Tenna's smiling face.
* And Now...
* We Wait
* ...
* Hmm
* This Is Taking Longer Than I Anticipated
* Perhaps I Should "Fire" Another "Work" That Looks Like：My Own Face (So He Knows Who Is Calling)
Octavo jumps as fireworks explode over his head. Were people celebrating even now? This hardly felt like the time!
...didn't that one a lot like Tenna? He frowns as he blinks the aftereffect from his eyes. It's followed by one that looks like Queen. Was she... trying to signal him somehow? That sounded like something she'd do. They knew each other, didn't they, coming from the same world. She should know what happened to him, it would only be fair.
He makes his way in the direction he'd seen the fireworks coming from, wishing he still had his stable teleportation, or his horse, or even his vespa he'd declined to bring along. Hopefully Queen would still be there by the time he reached her! Fortunately, he spots that shiny blue plastic the second he reaches the fireworks stand. She's standing with a young, red-haired woman he doesn't know.
"Queen," he greets her breathlessly. He must be quite a sight, all sweaty and tousled, the pain of last night's events still written across his taut expression. "Something's happened to Tenna. I don't know if- if that's what those fireworks were about, if you were looking for him... He's died. And he hasn't come back."
Tengen listens to whatever tirade this clearly irritated individual was on about. Not going to argue the point that his images were not of completely happy times. He was honestly doing about the same here, if not happier to have been given back friends lost to the battle against demons.
"Well, I've inhaled enough smoke to know we shouldn't stay in here after you lit it up. Now, come on." He grabs hold of Octavo's shirt sleeve and drags him out of the smoke. "Let's get out of here and have a conversation about lighting the right kinds of things on fire for flashiness."
"Don't TOUCH me!" Octavo hisses, swinging his arm back as another fireball appears in his palm, prepared to hurl it at Tengen. "You condescending-!"
A rattling noise catches his attention, and he pulls away suddenly, his expression horrified, eyes wide and ears pinned back. "I'm- I'm sorry, I- what was that?"
Something is moving in the dark. Octavo turns to look, but even his sensitive eyes can't make out anything in the gloom.
it's almost hard to listen to him. amidst octavo's recalling of the beast, of how its threatening presence may still linger, dar'khol struggles to have it all sink in over sounds of rushing blood; a quickened heartbeat playing an unsteady rhythm.
there's a tremor set in outstretched fingers, tips of them barely grazing over familiar crimson fabric before they're curled inwards. shaky, and uncertain, until nails are left pressing crescents into his palm. even his tail, hung still behind him, makes a move to wrap itself snug against dar'khol's thigh.
whatever he could manage for some sense of security. for some means of grounding himself over the crushing level of dread that pushed against him. as if left to an oceans mercy, clinging to a raft so as to avoid drowning within the coming, anxious storm.
focus, moshantu... a breath in. focus, and out.
"... had it--had it magics of its own; spells? somethin' cast against him that would--" words fail to meet an end, trailing off as the warrior stared forward. pushing passed fears persistent buzzing, his attention becomes hooked upon shards where a screen should be.
it was... odd, to say the least. to examine a man more closely comparable to that of a magitek machine, absent of blood or torn muscle. singed wire and circuitry taking the place of what offered him familiarity.
... and yet, there remained something recognizable in this aftermath. having felled both man and machine alike, having been a former wielder of his own spells and incantations.
"... he was no war machine," an obvious fact, but speaking it aloud aids in piecing his thoughts together. "his inner workin's couldn't hold out against what it delivered. a system overcharged."
.......
"... that final stab didn't mean much. there's nothing--" godsdammit. "octavo, there's nothing left. if the stars are unable to resurrect him...."
it's so loud, that rushing beat. over, and over, and over.
"I told you what I saw! That's all I know." Octavo struggles not to raise his voice, forcing it into a harsh whisper. "If the Stars could resurrect me after I was crushed into jelly by one of those giant machines, they can bring Tenna back too. They-"
He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath. "They're probably doing this on purpose. Toying with us. Making us worry that things are actually broken when they could bring him back at any point! It's all just a game. We can't let them get to us!"
"I-is that just a thing people do around here!? Die and come back like zombies!?" Whimsy flinches at her own raised voice, shooting Octavo an apologetic look as she continued her distressed pacing. "I always joked I weren't cut out for city life, but this is a bit much." A small joke to try and calm her own nerves, though it clearly wasn't working.
"I'll... I'll trust yer word on that. But... Ohhh, what do we do in the mean time!? I know he don't got his studio here, but he probably wouldn't want no one to find out how badly he got hurt... And those kids he takes care of... Gosh, they can't find out what happened! Not unless he chooses to tell em of course... He didn't give me no instructions for somethin' like this!"
The nervous pacing continues until Whimsy comes to an abrupt stop in front of Octavo, ears suddenly shooting up as an idea formed in her head.
She quickly turns to the bard, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders.
"Two questions for ya, Mister Octavo. Did ya tell anyone else about what happened to Mister Tenna? And can ya keep a secret for me?"
"They're not zombies, they're perfectly alive again! The Stars wouldn't let us escape their captivity through something as trivial as death."
Octavo stays mostly quiet as Whimsy paces and talks to herself. These were all things he would just have to face when the time came; telling Tenna's 'kids' (did he even know who they were? he can't remember their names), or his fellow darkeners. Maybe that was best left to Tenna himself. There was no possible way this was going to be permanent.
"Only Dar'khol," he says, finally meeting her eyes. "...why do you ask?"
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"B-but I was just talkin' to him the other day. He was teasin' those cute little bugs that have been crawlin' around the place! And what the hell do you mean his b-b-b....--" She can't bring herself to say the word. "--ain't disappearin' like normal? That ain't a normal thing they do!"
Whimsy clutches at her head, clearly distressed. Her tail thrashes violently behind her as she starts pacing back and forth. She didn't want to call Octavo a liar, as he was clearly just as distraught and upset as she was. Maybe he was mistaken? Yeah, that had to be it. There was no way that Tenna was...
"A-are ya sure he ain't just...powered down? That Mister Tenna, h-haha... Always a workaholic! H-hardly ever leaves the studio unless those kids call him... Y-yeah, maybe he's just all outta juice. Needs to plug in..."
That's...That's what you mean, Mister Octavo? Right?"
"Ah, I... suppose you haven't seen anybody die here, yet. That is what usually happens, yes. I'm sorry you had to find out this way." Octavo purses his lips, fidgeting with his locket as she paces. "The Stars like to keep their city tidy, but something's broken, or distracting them."
Or they're doing this to us on purpose.
"I'm afraid he's been hurt very badly. It's not a case of simply losing power. I know how sudden and terrible it is, but that is just how it happens sometimes. Perhaps things are just- I don't know. A bit behind schedule, and he'll be back again by tomorrow. We can only hope."
killed. single word alone sends a series of glitching stutters across the warrior's face. brows that wished to furrow, lips that wanted to be drawn tight -- a means of steeling himself against the realization staring him square in the face -- all lost. fury's mask no longer fit, kicked away by abrupt static.
the concept of death never sat well with him. not in passing, not witnessed. even less by his own hands. yet, here he stood, with news of death perched within his ears, with a means of revival nowhere to be had.
... and the evidence of it all painted, clear as day, before him.
"... he's actually--..." of course he was. he needn't repeat it; needn't question it. the proof was there, right there!
lifeless, cold, unmoving. even drawing near, with no sign of so much as a twitch -- no dull, static hum. his ears kept perking, now and again, trying to hear.... something. anything. even as the warrior knelt down, a hand extended towards the departed... there was nothing, still.
"what," dar'khol starts, only to pause. taking a moment to swallow down a building dryness that threatened to rend his voice null. again, he tries, "what monster, exactly." he'd not witnessed any, thus far, that held such a level of ferocity.
"....we're suppose to come back," comes a quiet whisper. laced with a bubbling desperation, it's spoken almost as a plea. there's hope to be proven wrong. he wants to be proven wrong. spontaneously, abruptly -- come back and prove him wrong, dammit!
I summoned it. Octavo bites his tongue. That part is not important. It was not a mistake he'd make again. He was sorry. This was all going to be fixed and the only person who had to know this was his fault was Tenna.
"It might still be there. My spells didn't affect it. You shouldn't risk yourself if that's what you're thinking. With everything all wrong as it is, who knows what could happen?"
He wrings his hands, unable to look Dar in the eye.
"The way it attacked him, it... it didn't make sense. It didn't even look like it had touched him, and then it stabbed him through the stomach with something I couldn't even see."
Zelda took a moment to think. Even though she was in her princess persona, that selfish part of her crept in slowly. She didn't want to waste time if he hadn't brought over anything, including his own cat. She had to handle this with tact.
"Wow, that does sound unusual for her. My dear bard, are you sure you brought her along?" Zelda asked gently, furrowing her brows with faux concern. "After all, none of your decor are here. Not even a cat tree."
"Yes!" Octavo answers quickly, but even as the word comes out of his mouth, he finds himself unsure. "I- I think so. Why wouldn't I bring my pet? I can't just leave her alone back there. Gods know what's happening in the other city. But I could only bring so much, so I only took what we really needed. I could always get another cat tree."
"Sorry for bein' nosy, but I didn't catch much of what ya said outside of Mister Tenna's name, and ya seem real distressed. What's wrong? Can't find him? Did he turn real small and fall down a crack in the sidewalk or somethin'?"
Dar was well-acquainted with death, but Octavo isn't sure he wants Whimsy to see this. "There was an accident. I think he's been killed, but his body isn't disappearing as they normally do. The Stars will probably fix it though, so there's no need to worry!"
spoken with a dropping stomach, dar'khol's head tilts. a step forward being taken in octavo's direction, he almost dares not repeat the name spoken. as though saying it aloud, along with his lingering question, would somehow make things worse.
as if the musicians words hadn't set an emotional weight to begin with.
"octavo, what do you mean it isn't workin'? what happened."
"He was- he was killed by a monster, and his body is still here. I tried to move him somewhere dry..."
Octavo numbly walks to the bookstore entrance he'd dragged Tenna through. The TV's limp body is lying against a couch, his screen blown out. There's a massive gash through his abdomen as well.
"Unless he's not actually dead, but I don't see how he couldn't be!"
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A cat? Zelda's face softened and she nodded her head in understanding. Even if she was still a little miffed from the melon incident, she couldn't just let Octavo be without his precious cat!
"I'll help you, but you probably shouldn't drink so much to the point you lose your pet!" she scolded him lightly. She'll never understand why so many adults drank alcohol like it was water.
"I haven't been drinking! That was just an example!" He snaps at her, and immediately shuts his eyes tight, breathing in. "Sorry. I'm just- I am anxious about this and it's making me impatient. Her name is Steinway. She usually doesn't go far from the apartment, but everything's different, all the decor is gone... Maybe she doesn't remember how to get home."
As it moves forward, the CRT moves back, watching it like one would a beast in a nature documentary. Try as he might to grow tall enough to intimidate the thing outright, he found it difficult to pass seven feet.
When it moves to lunge, Tenna puts a hand into his coat to grab at his pistol to fire--only to find it missing.
Of course. The bug fixes.
At the very least, he was focused enough to dodge and try to pivot.
"Watch it! I just got this thing dry-cleaned!"
Thankfully, the violint creature seems to attack slowly and obviously. Boss predictability 101, really.
"Eyes on me, Big Guy! Tavo, while it's distracted! Make it--"
A sound cuts the Darkner off abruptly; it's the raw, harsh noise that wheezes out of his speakers, like something grinding to a halt in his body. For a moment, he's stunned silent, as if the reality of it all just dawned on the host. The pain begins digging upward, into the control panel under his plating, lifting the man by a knife with the blade upward in cleave.
"O - O c t a v--"
It almost sounds like a plea before he's hoisted upward, his own weight only pushing his body further down one of its blades. Whatever agonized pitch emitted from those antennae can be picked up by nearby machines, but out of the range of typical hearing. With growing panic and desperation, his claws half-sink into whatever abomination of wood and wire this thing is made of, trying to physically rip the appendage from its base. Electricity erupts from his fingertips, in desperation. The fabric that kept this monster together began to rip and singe...
This thing was made from an electric violin, though. So the electricity coursing through its body is routed right back to the desperate, struggling figure trying to rip itself away from its attacker.
One surge, and it was over.
A single powerful shock: right through his system. His processor couldn't take it; his head couldn't take it. The deafening BANG of the vacuum tubes in his head cause an implosion that shatters his screen into atoms, all shooting violently into the violin beast that Octavo's magic manifested. And as it wailed in pain, it changes its mind and throws the Darkner away from it, rubbing its face onto the floor to try and dislodge the spray of glass that shattered into its head.
The thud that hits the ground when Tenna's body makes contact with the street is so heavy and final against the concrete. The empty, plastic shell of an old TV stares forward, hollow and lifeless.
Any hope Octavo has of making it out alive evaporate with that explosion. "Gods- oh gods," he gasps, his eyes watering as the monster lets out an ear-splitting whine. Another long, unbroken note at unspeakable volume. It leaves his head ringing.
As the monster writhes, Octavo pushes his way past it and grabs onto Tenna's discarded body. Anywhere but this, he thinks as he teleports.
The next thing he feels is rain, heavy and cold, soaking into his shirt and hair. Tenna didn't like water, but... Octavo supposes that doesn't make any difference now. He couldn't possibly have survived that explosion. The drumming of the rain is blissful compared to that abomination's shrieking.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, sitting up and wincing at the blackened shell of Tenna's head. "That was foolish of me. I hope it was... quick." When Tenna was back, he'd apologize properly. What a terrible way to start off their adventure. If all his spells were going to be this unstable, he might be better off just not using them until this was all over.
Tenna's body should be vanishing any moment now. It had been so quick the last time. But the longer Octavo waits, the deeper uneasiness sinks into his guts. Why wasn't the body vanishing? Was... Tenna not really dead?
"Tenna?" Octavo whispers, leaning over to try and listen for the mechanical hum the TV usually emitted. There's nothing, his warmth already mostly faded. The inside of his boxy head is completely hollowed out. Octavo knew that was the real him, where his vitals were. He couldn't possibly be alive. Why was his body still here?
Things in the city were not working properly, or at least seemed not to be. It could be as much of an illusion as anything else, and it would all be back to normal soon. That thought is of little comfort as he stares down at Tenna's corpse, rain beginning to fill the hollow of his head. Octavo couldn't just leave him here! What if he did eventually wake up? This... it was his fault this had happened in the first place.
"Hang on," he reassures, shaking as he wraps his arms around Tenna again. "I'll- I'll get us somewhere, just hang on."
iloren wishes for the voices of his advisors in his ear. they are still there, vague indications in each direction he could take these thoughts. still, the real thing would be much more useful.
' maybe if you kill enough of their wards, they'd be forced to face you. to break an enemy, you have to break their army first. '
a war is decided by numbers. if you found each of these agents, figured out how to get rid of them, even temporarily ... wouldn't it at least attract the attention of the stars?
at the very least, it'd annoy them. it's worth something.
he leans his elbow on the arm of the chair, fingers against his temple. the inquisitor is seriously considering their possibilities while watching octavo eat his food, but eventually he gives a weary sigh.
' we don't have the numbers. it's a fruitless task unless we find more people to join us. and a conversation for later. '
"If we could identify more of them..." Octavo muses idly. "You're right, though. We wouldn't be able to do this on our own. I've met a few like-minded folks, but the Stars have such complete control over us... Most people are apathetic, especially those who've been here for years. And even others don't want the status quo interrupted because it's better than where they come from. I'm sympathetic to that, but..."
It wasn't a problem with any sort of easy solution. Octavo settles for sipping some more of his soup. "Perhaps that's the best we can wish for right now. An audience."
If there was one thing Tenna was good at, it was standing diligently while someone else performed. The antenna on top of his head crane forward curiously at the new being given form. Ordinarily, what was 'scary' to Tenna was pretty limited; lots of monsters looked terrifying, but were quite polite and social. This one, though...
Only one other person he knew had those twitching, glitching movements, seeming to phase in and out of reality with every rattle and rave... In Spamton, it got worse when he was upset. In this thing...
("Oh @#$%.")
Tenna's not sure if it can stop.
"Forget it--turn that thing back into a weird violin and let's get the hell out of here!"
He takes a step back as Octavo does.
"--Tavo?? Y-you've gotta make that thing turn back! I don't like the way it's--"
But the bard shouts at it all to stop, and the creature is only moving closer. It was time to take some initiative!
With a snap of his fingers, Octavo found himself in some kind of weird plastic ball contraption, which Tenna kicked away to roll the other to a safer (quieter) distance. The low droning is making waves of static across his screen.
"Hey--don't look at that thing rolling around! Look at this!"
Though, the word itself seems to jumble incomprehensibly. Maybe that's to their benefit right now, though?
The next thing he knows, Octavo is tumbling head over heels in some sort of sphere. It bumps against a railing and stops, sending him toppling over. Unsteadily, he gets to his feet, trying not to rock the orb. Through its filmy plastic shell, he can make out the monster approaching Tenna. Its legs move, but it appears to glide independent of their motions.
Cursing, he tries the strings again. Some of them make noise, but it's out of tune, too quiet, and all the while the Lute keeps shrieking at him to DO SOMETHING, that obviously this was HIS fault. The Lute was never powerless, only its performer was.
The violin beast's heads twitch, flickering at different angles, but Tenna does seem to have its attention. It rears back slowly, then bows its neck, heads swinging downward. Nothing appears to happen at first, and Octavo isn't even sure it's trying to attack. A few beats pass, then an unseen blade skewers Tenna through the middle, suddenly jerking him towards the creature. He dangles off the side of its head, floating there impossibly.
Octavo teleports out of the orb, landing on the other side of the creature. "Put him down!" he barks, hurling a fireball at it. It vanishes harmlessly as it hits, not even dissipating, just blipping out of existence. He feels sick, head splitting between his pounding heart and the continued noise of the Lute. "Tenna! I'm- I'll get you down, just hang on!"
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