World Tree MUSH

  The realm of Hyrule is vast and varied, but most of its northern reaches end in jagged, crumbling peaks that see snow for most if not all of the year. These inhospitable reaches are where the remote Snowpeak Garrison was built generations ago, abandoned, and later renovated. The compound keeps a low profile with a series of squat, connected buildings and an open courtyard. The central tower is the only structure with any real height, its rebuilt roof steep enough to shrug off the snow.

  Snowpeak's courtyard is swept and clean, its trees long since barren this late into autumn. Little signs here and there describe occupancy: Torches along the outer battlements, extinguished in the afternoon sun; fresh hay piled near the stable building. New stone pockmarks the old, light against the faded dark grante. The nearest Vines are a ways down the mountain path, so some hiking is necessary -- but the path is obviously maintained, with old pine flagpoles marking the way, their tattered pennants of red faded and frayed.

  The sound of hooves on the path is enough to alert any travellers to company, and presently a figure rounds the bend in the path and comes into view of the vine, headed uphill towards the garrison -- a massive black monster of a warhorse, the kind meant to carry a fully-armoured knight, six feet at the withers. Its sheer size dwarfs its rider, a slender figure that is either a young woman or a very feminine young man, cloaked all in black, with a bow held across its lap and a quiver full of arrows at the hip.

  Neither horse nor rider seem to be in any particular hurry.

Mariam is off exploring worlds trying to figure out a solution to her worlds problems. She's not on a horse. She's actually on her broom, sitting side saddle and shivering so hard she's making her path wobble a bit on the broom. She shoves her hands directly into her Owl's feather fluff impossibly deep and starts rooting around. This makes the owl sitting on the back of the broom jump a moment but she frowns. "I guess I left the jacket at home. I need to pack it in you..." she says thoughtfully as she seems a bit distracted from the cold and desperately trying to find her jacket.

Hooty however, points downwards towards a fortress. and a big black horse approaching it. That doesn't... look like an attack. And it's rider doesn't exactly look like black rider wanting to attack it. Thusly, she spins downwards and seems to come to a sloooow pace next to the horse, still on her broom. She holds her hands up. "Uhm. Hi! I come in peace!" she says, a show that she isn't holding a weapon or anything. Nope. "Hey uh."

"You see any big glowing orbs um... artifacts of power... stuff like that up here? Anything at all?" she asks.

  Horse and rider keep right on trudging uphill, taking no real heed of the broom floating up above. They continue to ignore it until it insinuate itself beside them, keeping pace much more easily. This close, it's clear that the going is slow. The horse is having to churn a path through the drifts, although it seems to manage by size alone.

  Mariam might get covered in churned-up snow if she gets too close, though.

  "You come in peace, but you seek artefacts of power?" One might have the impression of a brow arching. The figure's voice is that of a young woman, its inflections suggesting high aristocracy. The hood doesn't move, as though she were staring at the broom-rider, whoever she is. She doesn't speak right away; just stares, thoughtful.

  The hood tilts ever so faintly to one side, keeping balance easily as the horse digs its way through the drifts. Quiet and soft-spoken she may be, but this is no novice; subtle power radiates from her. For the moment, though, she seems more curious than offended. "Dark times are upon this realm. Such a thing could wreak great harm. Even if I knew the location of such things... why should I tell you so easily?"

  She never moves, but her hood tilts to one side, and she reaches up to sweep it back. Young woman indeed; two and twenty, perhaps, with hair of rich chestnut drawn into a simple braid and eyes of mild summer-blue. She watches Mariam curiously. "Who are you, and where do you hail from? Why do you come here to this desolate land? And most importantly to me, why do you come so blithely seeking that which is potentially dangerous, and also valuable? Unfortunately there is nothing here to seek, but I would know, all the same."

Mariam has to sort of hover the broom back a bit, and she tilts the broom so she's facing Zelda head on. The broom is still moving though without her input, backwards. She's still sitting side saddle on it. She did get snowed on and she quickly fthwaps it away a little with a hand. "Ah... excuse me." she says bluntly. "My name is Mariam Highscribe. I sensed.... well. My Owl. Sensed. some sort of power on this world and I've come exploring. My world, Pandemonium, is in danger of dying, you see.... as a black void slowly starts to swallow it up." she says tersely.

"I'm here seeking anything that might close it. Usually. Things like that always seem to be further from civilization and.... the snowy peaks I saw seemed like a good place to start." she says with a curt, matter of fact nod. She does take in her manner of speech, as she thinks about it a little.

"So is the... castle... fort up on the mountain, yours?" she asks curiously.

"Dark times, you say?" she asks. "What troubles your world?" she asks, as she places both hands down against her broom as it still travels at the speed of Zelda's horse.

Hooty, the black feathered and yellow eyed owl is just sitting on the back of her broom. Looking a little grumpy. Probably the cold.

  Another subtle touch of the reins brings the warhorse to cease his struggling through the snow, breath digging as he flicks his ears back. The young woman shakes her head and sighs; it's silent, but visible as a plume of fog. "A common story in a great many realms. The darkness is rather more literal, here."

  She gestures downhill. Far across the plains, a tiny castle is visible, surrounded by a confluence of at least two rivers. Darkness seethes around it; the sky beyond it takes on a peculiar orangish cast. One can almost imagine embers dancing in such a sky.

  The rider is silent for a moment, expression a neutral mask. Is the garrison hers?

  "No." She shakes her head. "I live there, but it is not mine."

  Dark times?

  "It would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say, travel the roads with caution, for they are not safe in recent years." The young woman eyes the witch. "If you need shelter before continuing your search, there are guest rooms up ahead, and a hot meal or two. In exchange you will be asked not to wander the grounds, or to search for your artefacts within its walls."