World Tree MUSH

  Although not technically a Thorn, the Kingdom of Hyrule still isn't in the greatest shape. It's a dangerous world of roaming monsters and scattered humanoid settlements trying to hold their own. Vast swaths of the landscape are afflicted by a curse called the Twilight; there the skies are a luminous, sickly orange, and embers flit skyward in strange geometric patterns at the edge of one's vision. Weirder and more dangerous beasts roam those places.

  High up the northernmost mountains, in the lofty reaches of Peak Province, there is... not much going on. In fact there aren't any villages up past Kakariko Village, down the mountains in Eldin Province. Though abandoned, the village is the last stop for civilisation, except where refugees have dispersed into smaller and more scattered settlements. Word around those suggests there's not much up the mountains except that one haunted garrison.

  Wait, what?

  Snowpeak Garrison is indeed up the mountain, but it's not haunted. It's home to a small handful of souls who are definitely not soldiers, nor affiliated directly with the Hyrulean throne. Instead, most of them are offworlders, and nobody in Hyrule really knows anybody even lives up here. Last anybody down the mountain's heard, it was abandoned at least two generations ago.

  It was... but there is a group living up there, significant enough that there's a Vine that leads out that way. It's a bit of a hike up the rest of the way to the garrison itself, but there it is, a big estate that looks as much manor as soldiers' garrison. The courtyard gates are open, and the courtyard itself has been swept clean. Or, well, it was, before it snowed.

  November in Snowpeak is dangerous, but the hike from the Vine isn't too far. Stout pine poles with large, red rags tied to them mark the way.

  Snow flurries over the mountain already, and the flurrying has been growing steadily heavier through the afternoon. It's starting to slide over the event horizon of a blizzard, now, with winds skirling around Snowpeak Garrison's main tower and its crenellated walls. It's definitely not haunted. In fact, it looks restored. A lot of the timber and masonry is actually new.

  Out in the courtyard in the worst of it is a figure in a black robe, struggling against wind and weather to chop a few logs of firewood. Stinging snow and harsh wind aren't making it easy.

 
 It was funny really.. the further he got away from home, the closer he felt to it. 
 
 A trek up a snowy mountain wasn't anything new to Muradin Bronzebeard, Mountain King and High Thane of Ironforge. A poor excuse of a dwarf he would be in fact if a steep climb and snow were enough deterrents for him to make his way up a mountain's peak. An uncomfortable journey it might be perhaps for a human, what with their long, skinny legs that can't carry much weight. But a dwarves are natural mountaineers, and when Muradin learns that his destination lies up in the snowy peaks of a nearby mountain, he simply heads in that direction and begins climbing upwards without much concern. One might even hear a dwarven climbing song being hummed from the stocky man as he walks up. 
 
 Pleasant as the trek might be for him, Muradin can't seem to get much enjoyment out of it. His latest adventures had left him with many concerns that up until now he had been ignoring. There are many creatures in the Tree, why he might even say there's an infinite amount of them, from all over the Multiverse. With so many kinds of people seemingly pulled and forced to congregate, it is not unthinkable that eventually Muradin is going to run into someone he knows from Azeroth. It could really be anyone, from a close friend, to a bitter rival, mayhap even someone from another timeline. 
 
 Having run into that woman the other day left him staggered. That.. Sheik person. Muradin had run into elves before in his travels around the Tree, elves from different realms that had never heard of Azeroth, of the Alliance or the Horde, elves that felt no animosity towards Muradin even. And while this Sheik had shown to be a trustworthy ally to Anna and her friends, that didn't mean Muradin himself could trust her. 
 
 Not when she looked like /that/. Like a Blood Elf. 
 
 Muradin just had to know more. If there was a den of Blood Elves here, sharpening their proverbial knives as it were, planning their move to take over the World Tree. He just had to know. He had to know more. Two wars with the Horde was enough for Muradin to sober up and never again allow his enemy the initiative again. While Dwarves seldom overextended and preferred to play defensively, Muradin was quite tired of letting his enemy make the first move. This time, he was going to get to the bottom of this. 
 
 Crunching steps on the snow announced the entrance of one stout dwarven warrior. Muradin casually approached the courtyard of Snowpeak Garrison, and his blue eyes noticed the cloaked figure struggling to chop wood in these cold conditions. Why, Muradin wasn't even wearing a cloak, he just had his usual splint mail armor on, to him it was like a walk in the park. 
 
 "Oi! Ye need help with that axe over there, mate??" He said over to the figure, half actually meaning to be helpful, half jeering the figure for not being able to chop wood properly. 

  At about the same time Muradin raises his voice to offer help, the robed figure finally finds her balance, bringing the axe down in a savage blow. Logs split and bounce from the larger stump they're being cut against, and with a growl, the figure stoops to collect fallen firewood. By the time she straightens, looking up and blinking, she's carrying the axe in such a way that she couldn't use it to defend herself.

  Oh. Uh. That's awkward.

  "Master Muradin." 'Sheik' bobs her head in greeting. Even such a simple gesture carries a certain aristocracy to it. Whoever this is, they're probably of noble blood of some kind. "I see you've found your way to Snowpeak Garrison. Welcome to the Kingdom of Hyrule." The 'elf' brushes past him, carrying her firewood towards the estate's iron-banded front doors. "It is much too cold to linger. A storm approaches. Come." It's with a toss of her head that 'Sheik' beckons for Muradin to follow.

  She'll wrestle the door open, and even hold it open with an ankle for him. Hm... there's smoke drifting from some of the chimneys, so it isn't like the place is abandoned, even if it does seem pretty empty.

 
 Muradin whistles as the figure finally gets a good firm grip on the axe and splits the log. Technique may be lacking a little, but they make up for it with enthusiasm, and sometimes that's all it takes to get a good proper skull splitting blow. Whoever this cloaked figure is they are definitely a warrior, they got the poise for it, they are simply just not well versed with using axes. Oh well, no one can be perfect.. 
 
 But as the figure stands up to their full height, Muradin's smirk vanishes with recognition. "Sheik." He says sternly. The grace of this woman is not lost on him, royalty recognizes royalty after all, and Muradin had spent a lot of time with nobles of many races to recognize the manners in which Sheik moves. Its interesting, she basically drips with royalty and grace and yet she's dressed in what could come off as rags. A noble in disguise perhaps? Not unlikely, after all, that's exactly what Anna has been doing. But why try to hide her identity? Indeed.. if she's trying to hide something, it might be because her origins might be less than.. actually noble. More and more, Muradin is starting to suspect this woman truly is a Blood Elf. 
 
 "Aye, very well. Thanks fer the offer." Nevertheless, Muradin accepts her invitation and moves to follow. He's at least enough of a gentleman that he actually stops and holds the door for her, insisting she goes first since she's carrying firewood after all. It wouldn't do that he is without manners. He's a noble too after all. Muradin is also not exactly afraid of entering an unfamiliar place which might be full of evil. As long as he has Mirithos and Troggbane with him, the dwarf feels as if he can take on any foe. 
 
 Let's see how well he's actually able to pull that off.. 

  Inside, lit torches line the walls. Their flickering light casts unsteady shadows over the foyer: Arched stairways curve gracefully along the walls to lead to a shadowy and less well-lit second floor. Doors down the corridor suggest that's where the guest quarters are.

  It's to the kitchen that 'Sheik' appears to be heading, lugging both split logs and axe without much complaint, though even with that bulky robe, the Hylian looks too fragile for such a task. Exile has a way of tempering one's expectations out of life.

  Her head turns slightly to regard Muradin over her shoulder, but the only part of her face visible is her mouth, turned slightly downward in an expression of clear displeasure. "I'm not certain if your world bears its own rules of hospitality, but you are a guest in this hall, and as such I expect you to behave yourself for the duration of your stay."

  That warning is given crisply, and once the formalities are dispensed, 'Sheik' ducks through the swinging door to the kitchen, nodding her head in thanks as Muradin holds it. Inside, the facility is clearly meant to support a garrison: It's a huge industrial-type facility, although it's clean and its tools in good repair. 'Sheik' lugs the firewood to an open hearth, tossing the logs onto the pile and lighting them briskly with flint and tinder.

  Next comes a huge iron kettle, which sloshes, and requires a certain degree of manhandling to hang on the hook over the hearth. Once that's all set up, 'Sheik' stands on tip-toe to reach into a cabinet, withdrawing two stoneware cups and setting them on the counter.

  "Clearly you have some manner of problem with me, Mountain-King." The title is clearly one of respect, even though her tone is cool and somewhat disdainful. "It is hardly polite. May I hear your grievance, and perhaps we might settle this in a civil manner?" Shrugging out of the robe, she hangs it over a peg on the wall. Beneath she wears a simple dress in peasant grey, although the hems have been decorated with ornate stitching in what looks like goldthread. The motifs are similar to what's on the robe. Even as she stands there her posture is somehow aristocratic; straight-backed and dignified, hands folded demurely in front of herself.

 
 The warning to behave himself is a sobering reminder of who Muradin is dealing with. Elves... no matter in what manner or form does Muradin encounter them, they're always so haughty and posh and holier than thou. They always act like they're the adults of the room whilst everyone else are naught but children. Their longevity perhaps might given them the impression that they are entitled to act this way, but it always struck Muradin as highly immature to make assumptions of everyone wherever they went. After all, everyone knew what happened when you made assumptions. 
 
 It makes an ass out of you and me. 
 
 "Donna worry." Scoffs Muradin, just barely able to maintain a degree of courtesy. Really, more than a dwarf could be expected to do with an elf, Muradin is really going above and beyond here to keep his bearings. How pretentious it is to tell him to behave, if he wanted to do her harm he would have done so outside, or swing his axe to the back of her dome when she was trying to open the door for him- not wait until he was inside her fortress where he no longer had the advantage. "I'll keep me hammer and me axe to meself." 
 
 "Donna give me a reason to use 'em." His own very subltle warning to not test him. Muradin knows how to play this dance, the veiled threats of nobility. It's a game all on its own that differs great from taunting an opponent in a battle, or jeering someone in a bar, an elegant posturing as it were.. but in the end they are by nature the same. He won't let her intimidate him, or force him to overextend and make him lose face. 
 
 Muradin looks around the place and quickly discerns its meant to hold several people, perhaps field a small army. This is a home to many, and the Thane of Ironforge suspects that they might be warriors. It makes him suspect of Sheik even more, particularly when she finally removes her clothes to reveal her peasant garb. She can't fool him in that regard either, he notices the golden embroidery and all that decorated stitching. Only a noble would ever bother trying to make a villager dress look more presentable, a commoner wouldn't care less. No doubt about it, this elf is of noble blood. Slowly but surely, the dwarf is starting to peel the layers of Sheik's identity. He's just not entirely sure what he's looking at her yet.. 
 
 "Aye, I do." The Thane admits as he moves about the kitchen, circling Sheik, keeping his eyes on her, fingers flexing slightly, ever ready to summon his weapons to his hands. 
 
 "Ye want me to speak plainly? I'll be happy to." He says with a sneer as he looks up to the taller elven woman. "In me world, there are a group of people call the Blood Elves. They resemble ye greatly, fair skin, long pointed ears, golden hair and green piercing eyes just like yers." His eyebrows furrow and there's a twitch to his mouth, his nostrils flaring slightly as he keeps things to an aristocratic level. Unwilling to play the same card as Sheik and make assumptions. At least for the moment. 
 
 "Normally I'd file that under mere coincidence, but I've lived fer a long time, and I've turned me back before when I shouldn't have and gotten stabbed fer me trouble." 
 
 "I ask ye now then, Sheik." 
 
 "Are ye a Blood Elf? Or have ye had dealings with something called the Fell before?" His fingers flick again, the scent of magic in the air close to his hands, the song of Mirithos and Troggbane heard in the background as his weapons eagerly await being summoned. 

  Snowpeak Garrison may have been designed as a home to many, but right now, it's home to a scant handful of souls. In fact, nobody's been around since Muradin's arrived except for 'Sheik' herself. Does she live here alone?

  Returning to the counter once the hooded robe is hung up, 'Sheik' leans her hip against the counter, folding her arms. She's made no hostile move, and doesn't appear to be carrying weapons of any kind, with the exception of a knife stuck through her belt. It is suspiciously plain-looking, but it does look well cared for.

  Glancing down, she listens with evident interest, tilting her head as she puts the pieces together. Her hair is loose, long chestnut spilling over one shoulder at the gesture, and her mouth twists slightly. "My hair is hardly golden, Master Muradin." Zelda's smile is thin and wry as she reaches up to pluck at a lock. "And my eyes are blue, not green. Have you some trouble seeing colours? Good heavens, if--" She seems about to say something else, mirthful, but cuts herself off. The smile slides from her face like ice left in the sun. For just an instant she looks as young as her years, instead of someone with a weight carried on their shoulders.

  Her head shakes as she straightens. "No. I've no notion of what a Blood Elf is, so I can only assume that none have visited Hyrule, yet; nor have I encountered any in distant realms." A shoulder shrugs. "I am not elven, and in honesty, it is a term I hear commonly beyond this realm." There's a faint sigh. 'Sheik' reaches up to adjust the lay of a cuff, straightening it out. The embroidery gleams when it catches the light. "The people of this realm are Hylian -- those that belong in it, anyway. Oh, there are humans, here, as well. There are also Gorons, Zora, and the Twili... though we are at war with the latter, I believe."

  "There is--" She cuts herself off again, sobering even more. "There was a kingdom, in the central plains. It was called Hyrule. Up until a few years ago, it was the seat of this kingdom's power, and a large, prosperous city. One could find goods in its markets from all over Hyrule." Zelda side-steps, reaching for the kettle as it begins to boil. Two cups are poured, carefully, before she struggles her way back to the hook to hang the kettle.

  The aroma of tea wafts up with the steam from the cups. "Even now, if you look down from the heights, you can see the ruins of Hyrule Castle, and the ruins of Castle Town around its outer bailey." Somber once more, she shakes her head. "No. I am not 'Blood Elf.' I am Hylian. Hyrule Castle was once my home..." Zelda glances to Muradin from the corner of an eye. "I was a servant of the royal family. A handmaiden, to the queen, but when the Twili invaded the royal family was slain in the coup. The central government has collapsed." She reaches for her own cup, wrapping long fingers around it. Her hands are callused in the manner of archery and swordplay: This is not a completely soft noble.

  "Hyrule is in a state of anarchy, its people scattered to the four winds. I am sorry to say that you are not seeing it at its best."

 
 Not having any visible weapons is hardly a point of comfort. After all, Muradin himself is not visibly carrying any weapons either and he is in fact armed to the teeth since he could summon his bonded items with a mere gesture. It plays on the fact that Muradin is very cautious nowadays, truly there is no reason to doubt Sheik. Even if she were a Blood Elf, she helped Anna's cause without pause, a noble deed indeed, and it should be enough to put Muradin's heart at ease. But he's been betrayed too many times, fallen for rouses when he really shouldn't, fool me once as it where. If there is any possibility at all that there could be foul play from Sheik's part, it would be, on all accounts, Muradin's bad because he really should have seen it coming. At least now, he can say that he checked first. 
 
 "Hmm.." Muradin takes the jests well enough. He was expecting such, here he was, sticking his face out to see if Sheik would essentially take the opportunity to sucker punch him and in so doing reveal her true colors. If the worst Muradin gets from this encounter is Sheik poking slight fun at his eye sight then he'd actually call it a success. Better that Sheik has her fun and gets a little laugh than an evil cackle when she's digging a knife in his back. Losing slight face is worth it in this case. 
 
 "Hylian, aye? First time I've e'er heard of that term." The dwarf admits. For all his travels he has yet to explore a great deal of the Tree. He listens intently to Sheik's story, and as she goes on to reveal some of her background a few things about her start to make sense. A ruined kingdom, a loss of home. Ah.. now it's all starting to make sense. Now he knows why she dresses like a refugee, and why she wears commoner clothes when she's clearly a royal. There's an ever faint smirk from Muradin when Sheik claims to be a handmaiden. To the Queen no less. It would also explain a lot of things, how she is capable of wielding a bow as well as she did against the fould undead of the other day. 
 
 Maybe she is just a handmaiden... 
 
 But.. he doubts it. Sheik just 'oozes' with indignity, he doesn't know if its elven or 'Hylian' arrogance, after all, Sheik may call himself Hylian but for Muradin she talks like an elf, walks like an elf, looks like an elf, it's very difficult for him to not look at Sheik as anything other than an elf. But there is something beyond elven arrogance from this woman. A handmaiden may be a high ranking servant, yes, but they are nonetheless a servant. The way that Sheik seemed to struggle with the axe, the way she was so angry with the wood as if it had insulted her ancestors, it just reeks of royalty. Let's just say, as a fellow royal, Muradin suspects something. 
 
 "I see.. that's very unfortunate." He says as he glances backwards, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. He did think the village looked to be in shambles, a civilization that has certainly seen better days. "I'm no stranger to war. I know how it feels to have yer homeland ravaged by a foreign army." The dwarf looks up. 
 
 "I admit I'm not entirely convinced just yet of yer motives, Sheik. Ye resemble a Blood Elf far too much fer me liking." 
 
 "But.. I realize that's just me prejudice talking, and I'm determined to be a better dwarf 'ere than I was in me world. Besides.. ye helped Anna, and a friend of Anna is a friend of mine as well. If ye need assistance restoring yer kingdom, I can offer me axe to help." 
 
 Maybe fighting alongisde this woman can help Muradin overcome his old hatreds. 

  It's the first time he's heard of that term, Muradin says, and 'Sheik' tips one shoulder in a faint shrug. "Then it is most likely the first time you have ventured into this realm. Hylians are quite common, here. In addition to the royal family, there are a great many Hylians; as many of us as humans. Our ears are different, and many more of us become Sages, capable of wielding magic." She pauses to sip at her tea, carefully, mindful of the fact that it's piping hot. "Although the distinction is at times thin in some families, I suppose my own Hylian descent must be fairly obvious." She reaches up and flicks an earring, clasped to one long, daintily pointed ear. "My family is--was--very old, and very much Hylian."

  Her expression as she regards Muradin is one of calm, patient acceptance. She seems completely unsurprised by his inability to accept her story at face value. Indeed, she seems unsurprised that he's still convinced that she's something from his world.

  Maybe, though, he can overcome it. As he talks his way past his prejudices, the surprise that flickers across her face is genuine. That was unexpected. At the end of it she sighs and shrugs, head shaking and eyes closing briefly. The gesture is tired, and with that surprise gone, she's back to looking entirely too world-weary for the twenty-odd years she appears to be. There's a wisdom in her eyes that speaks more to the elder dragons of Azeroth, or even the Aspects, than a mere handmaiden.

  "Anna? Is that her name, then? I'm afraid I didn't have the opportunity to stay for introductions." Her mouth twists. "While it's hardly my kingdom, I appreciate the offer." Yeah uh huh everyone believes it too. "We--" She gestures toward the fortress at large, "--that is to say, those few of us staying here, are all loyalists to Hyrule's crown and wish to see the usurper overthrown and the monarchy restored. Unfortunately, it is a long and tedious road to liberation, but I appreciate the offer, and perhaps I may negotiate that offer sooner rather than later."

  She puffs a sigh, pausing for a drink of tea.

  "Enough of this place and its woes, though. Tell me of your kingdom, Mountain-King."

 
 Could Sheik fault him though? Muradin is no wide eyed youth. He may be a hero, and a bold one at that, but he's a bit too old, too embittered by life to have that wide eyed, innocent out look to life that upstart heroes. He may have been like that once, when he was a wee dwarf warrior, ready to take on the world with nothing but his axe by his side. 
 
 Now.. Muradin would have to be a blasted fool to take anything, anyone says to him at face value. More so in a place like this where nearly anything seems possible. Why, Sheik could not be Sheik at all, he could be talking to a shapeshifter this whole time and Muradin, frankly, has no way of telling. No, the Thane will keep a healthy distance, keeping Sheik at arms length as it were, or rather, at axe length, just close enough that he can still catch her with an axe swing if she does something suspicious. But close enough that he can listen, so they can talk things out. Because Sheik is right after all, better than they resolve this with civility than any other way. Muradin would very much like to believe what Sheik is telling him. But it's obvious that she's holding back on 'something' and that makes Muradin suspicious, if she's hiding something from him is because she can't trust him, and if she can't trust him yet then he cannot return the favor. Plain and simple for the Mountain King. Trust between them will have to be earned. 
 
 Then, there it is again, that oldness to Sheik's eyes that hint that she may be much, much older than she appears. Try as she might, she can't hide all her secrets from Muradin, and it is highly likely than with time the Thane will see her for what she really is. Muradin only hopes that when he sees past her layers he'll find something good, rather than.. not so good. 
 
 "Ye dinnae know her name?" Asks a bewildered Muradin. Then how was it that she came to her aid? Bah, ultimately, the dwarf just shrugs his impossibly broad shoulders as well. "Look, I dinnae much about these place's politics and wot not, but I know this much. When someone comes to back ye up in a fight, that's the side ye can trust. I dinnae see no Twii coming to aid Anna in her plight, but I saw ye, a Hylian, doing wot ye could to help the young lass, and that's enough proof fer me to throw in with yer lot. Even if I donna really trust ye yet!" Well, at least he's quite honest. To a fault even. 
 
 "Me kingdom..?" It's Muradin's turn to be surprised. It is perhaps the first time that a person that looks like Sheik, that is to say an elf, has showed curiosity for his origins. And no Hyouka doesn't count because she.. apparently.. is just an artificial elf who's really a human but also a dragon.. or something.. anyway, an elf wanting to know about anything other than themselves is enough to give even mighty Muradin some pause, and he considers, brushing his beard in thought. 
 
 "It's a long tale." He says at last. "Better told over some pints of ale and a roaring fire." He smirks somewhat sadly at the hearth that Sheik has going in her kitchen. Nothing at all like the blazing heat of Ironforge. "But I can tell ye it is a mighty kingdom indeed, strong and proud, nestled in the peak of mountains that look not too different like this. It stands even though it has been assailed by hordes of enemies through many years. Its gates tall and strong, steel made doors 'tween the mighty stone of Khaz Modan. Mighty and proud Ironforge.. that's me Kingdom." 
 
 A wistful smile is seen on Muradin and he looks up with amusement to Sheik. 
 
 "I'm serious though, it's a bloody long arse tale. Ye sure ye want me to talk yer ears off, lassie? We could be here all night." 

  "For whatever it may be worth, I cannot trust you, either." 'Sheik' shakes her head, calmly. There's no malice in her tone. It's simply straightforward statement of fact. "I do not know who you are. Or, indeed, whether you tell the truth about your origins, Mountain-King." Her smile is thin, and weary. "It would be irresponsible of me to trust so easily, but in this, I do not mind to be proven wrong."

  No trust is given, but it seems none is expected, either. Those world-weary eyes have seen too much to trust so easily. There's a wariness to her posture, no matter how nonchalant an appearance she might strive for.

  "No. It may behoove me to learn more of her story, however." That crisp observation is given thoughtfully, and 'Sheik' seems distracted for a moment. She and Anna would appear to have royalty in common. It may be wise to investigate further. "I have spoken with her associate. We may have business in common. If you've chosen to take up her cause, I suppose we're likely to see more of one another."

  Those summer-blue eyes linger directly on Muradin, as though curious. Yes, his kingdom. If she catches the dismissal in that glance at the hearth, she chooses to ignore it. Hmph. Hyrule Castle this is not.

  "Hyrule was a peaceful and prosperous kingdom. In the thousands of years it has stood, it has never been taken by siege or by treachery... until the coup." Her tone is soft, but also a little leaden; a tone of defeat. "It lay under siege for a candlemark; perhaps two. The princess surrendered to spare her people, though her sacrifice bought precious little." 'Sheik' shakes her head, and this time the gesture is one of dull anger. "A tragedy that did not need to happen. If only our defenses had been stronger--"

  Why would a handmaiden take such responsibility for a failed siege?

  "In any case... I should like to see Khaz Modan, some time. Perhaps after all of this--" She gestures, as though to indicate the situation at large, "--is resolved? I should like to hear the history of your home. Clearly you have pride in it." Her head bobs as though to affirm her own observation. Is she sure she wants to hear the story? "Certainly. Though if you prefer to tell it another time, I will not keep you. I will be here all the night; this is my temporary home, until Hyrule Castle is liberated and Castle Town restored to a liveable state."

  She tilts her head after a moment. "Though, if you choose to stay here, I advise caution. The roads in Hyrule are not safe, and the roads here of Peak Province are less safe than most. The weather is not your ally. We are approaching the equinox. The snows have only just begun. What you see now is mere child's play. In a few weeks' time, the roads will be near to impassable without magic or machinery." Her mouth twists. "I suppose it's clear why this place was initially abandoned."

 "Hmph, I'd call ye a bloody fool if ye trusted me implicitly already." The dwarven warrior said first as he finally decided to take a seat directly in front of his illustrious host. "Particularly after all the posturing I've been doing, it's been short of actually threating ye with me axe, mate." Of course, Muradin was wholly aware of his attitude towards Sheik up until at least recently. He had allowed her appearance to affect how he treated her, but likewise, he'd be a fool not to let profile her at least a little bit. After all, if someone sees fire the prudent thing is to step away first, even if it turned out that it wasn't fire and only something tht looked like it. 
 
 The Thane sighs though, and he lets his shoulders relax slightly, only slightly lowering his guard now before this strange elven maiden. His lips twist into a smile as she mentions not minding being proven wrong and he strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Well, I always aim to impress. I donna doubt that ye'll eventually learn to trust me if we do end up becoming allies. Not to brag but..kind of a big deal where I'm from." He leans back on his chair and flexes a powerfully built bicep, most assuredly one does not want to get punched by this dwarf, he looks like he could bend a tree by pushing it. 
 
 "Aye, I reckon we shall be seeing more of each other if ye end up helping Anna. I gotta say I liked wot I saw the other day, yer one hell of an archer Sheik, and Anna could use all the help she could get. I'd appreciate it if ye could help the lass out as much as ye can, at least, considering the situation yer in." He looks around, feeling the desolation and the despair of the hold, it is so very obvious that this kingdom has suffered hard. "Like I said though, ye scratch me back and I'll scratch yers so to speak. Seems like yer in quite a pickle yerself and I have a tendency of runnin' 'round doing good deeds. I'd love to help ye out with yer kingdom problem 'ere..." He shrugs. "Anna seems to trust ye, maybe I should too, guess we shall see." 
 
 The Mountain King laughs lightly as the elf mentions wanting to visit Khaz Modan if there's ever opportunity. "Oh, ye'd be a riot there, lemme tell ye. I'd have to somhow tell everyone not to try and dog pile ye and explain yer not a Blood Elf." He smirks, leaning slightly on his chair as he gets comfortable. "It's certainly a possibility, though me world is currently a.. bud? I think that's the propa' term? Either way, it's big and full of Big Names as it were, so I donna doubt I'll find me way back eventually. Maybe ye can tag along too, for sure, at this point I have enough folks interested that I could make it a whole expedition." He grins to himself. 
 
 Then, there it is again, Sheik talks about her kingdom and bemoans the fact that she could not do much to save it. Muradin understands that even a handmaiden would be fiercly devoted to her nation and the royal family, but between the indignity that all of this is beneath her, and that dull anger in her eyes. Muradin starts to see more and more cracks in Sheik's story. What is she trying to hide from him anyway? 
 
 He thinks about it some more and he shifts on his chair. "The story of me home.." He muses.. "Well, alright, if ye really got all night I donna see why not, mayhap it'll shed some light on who I be and why ye should trust me more. Either way, ye've shared yer story, it's polite that I do the same. Just wished we were at a pub or something." 
 
 Before he begins, he can't help but close one eye thoughtfully as the elf suggests staying in the keep, and she may be insinuating for more than just the night. "Ye know, Sheik. For saying ye donna trust me ye seem awfully willing to let me stay here in yer home. Are Hylians usually this hospitable? Or ye really want fighters on yer side that desperately?" 
 
 "By all means, if ye want me to fight fer ye, just go ahead and say it. I may be royalty but I never cared much fer hollow banter, I'm more of a warrior king as it were. I'm more than willing to sort out our differences by show

  Zelda doesn't respond immediately to the comment on implicit trust. She doesn't respond to the one about posturing, either. What she does is chuckle quietly. It's a soft sound; so soft it could be missed. The tone of her voice never changes, but somehow it carries that vast sense of age, again; of wisdom far beyond her apparent twenty-odd years.

  "Perhaps." This, to the matter of trust. Zelda sets her teacup aside, turning to rummage through the cabinets. She's still listening attentively, head tilting whenever Muradin has something to say, but she has the look of someone on the hunt for something specific.

  Zelda pauses mid-rummage; her head pops up from behind the cabinet door she's looking into, and when he comments on alliances being a big deal, she eyes him, blandly. Really, the same could be said of her, but she's not so arrogant as to say it out loud. Her mouth quirks a few times as though she can't quite stifle it, though. It would be a big deal for her, too: Not that she can say that, yet, but just about every Hyrulean knows who she is.

  "Hm. Thank you," she replies instead, modestly. "I was taught young never to let fly if I doubted my shot." Zelda crouches down, continuing her rummaging. "Certainly I can see what I can do, though I offer no guarantees, as you can see." Hyrule's in a bit of a state. All traces of mirth and levity vanish. When Zelda looks to Muradin again, those summer-blue eyes are solemn as the grave. "I'd be most appreciative of any aid you can offer. While I'm still deciding whether I can trust you, I should like to. I think you could be useful, here."

  There's always something around that needs a hammer to the face.

  She tips a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug regarding Anna herself. "Does she? I appreciate that, though I hardly know her well myself. I do, however, gather she is of some manner of royal blood. That could be interesting," she adds, coolly. "In the meantime, when I've the time to spare, I have no problem offering my assistance. Those few of us here in Snowpeak Garrison tend to see to our own affairs."

  Khaz Modan earns another tilt of her head, as she starts reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a few odds and ends. Dry goods, for the most part; these she balances over to a large counter, spreading them out. Baking supplies, by the look of it. Bread?

  Reaching up, Zelda takes a few sprigs of what looks and smells like rosemary, setting that aside and fetching various bowls and whisks to start her work. "Hm. Better to avoid it, then, if that's the case." If Muradin was any barometer, the welcome wouldn't be very... welcoming. "I should like to show you more of Hyrule, but frankly, it's not safe."

  She pauses in measuring out flour, tilting her head. "Oh, a Bud? Than..." Her eyes narrow in thought. "Your world is most likely inaccessible, in that case. I'm sorry." The last seems genuinely spoken. "Mayhap you'll find your way back to it. I wish you luck. If my responsibilities here do not keep me, I would be happy to help. In the meantime... no. I've no demands on my time save to knead dough and bake bread." A pub? Zelda jerks her chin, indicating a cabinet standing by itself, away from the others. "The liquor cabinet is unlocked. Take what you like, if you choose to trust."

  She pauses, looking up. Are Hylians usually this hospitable? Or ye really want fighters on yer side that desperately? Again there's that flicker of unspeakable age; of a soul far older than her apparent age. "Yes." To which one? She doesn't clarify, leaving it at that for half a second before continuing. "According to the old ways, hospitality was an art, and a way to be closer to the Goddesses." Zelda flicks her fingers carelessly, the gesture accompanied by a slight puff of flour. "Not everyone in this age cares so much, but some of us still remember the old ways."

  Her mouth twists, amusement and exhausted resignation all in one. "Also... yes. I have some need of swords... or hammers and axes," she adds, nodding towards Muradin's weapons. "You would be compensated appropriately, of course."

  In spite of her delicate appearance, 'Sheik' is apparently made of tougher stuff than that. She takes to the arduous work of baking gamely, deceptively strong, although it would explain her archery. "Very well. Will you stay? I will listen to your tale of Khaz Modan, and I will tell you the tale of Hyrule, if you care to listen."

 
 "I figured as much." Says the dwarf without sounding very worried. Azeroth was a big place that kept getting attacked by otherworldly entities almost all the time, in fact, he is surprised that he hadn't manag to tumble his way out of his world sooner. Either way, he is certain that he will find his way back somehow, or his world will open up more eventually. Muradin is.. not entirely sure how any of those things work, but he just has a lot of confidence that things will work out eventually. They usually did, just had to keep at em with a hammer, and that's what he intends on doing! 
 
 "Really!!?" For the first time since he arrived, Muradin actually seems excited about something, the somber, melancholic mood of the keep suddenly washing away from him at the mere mention of liquor. "Sheik, if ye wanted to get in me good graces ye shoulda just stared with the booze!" He says with a hearty laugh as he jumps off his chair and heads for said cabinet. Apparently, he has no fear of it being poisoned or something of the sort. Or perhaps he just trusts his own dwarven endurance to simply tough out most toxins. After all, if one is trying to assassinate a dwarf, there are easier ways to do it than poisoning the liquor. Muradin finds said cabinet and gets on his tip toes to reach a particular bottle of spirits that seems appetizing before moving back to the table. Just in time to catch Sheik's very straightforward answer to his questions. 
 
 "Hmm?" The dwarf archs an eyebrow, unsure at first which one does she mean, until she explains that the affirmative was to both. 
 
 "Ah well.. hospitality is both rare and refreshing in these dark times. I certainly appreciate it, as I'm sure most travelers do. Ye do yer people honor by acknowledging yer traditions." He uncorks the bottle and takes a whiff first. 
 
 "As for the other thing. I got no trouble working as a mercenary, but we can talk business later. After all, help Anna in her quest enough and I'll even be willing to call it just repaying a favor." 
 
 He seems thoughtful at the offer and gives it only the briefest of thoughts before shrugging. "Ah! Wot tha' hell! Ere ye are talking me up with yer hospitality and wot not, I might as well accept yer gracious offer. Hah!" At this point, it'd be rude to decline staying since it might dishonor Sheik. Muradin isn't sure he'd be staying longer than one night, but he guesses he will see where his journey takes him.

 
 "Alright, alright. 'Ere's wot everyone's been waiting fer then.. the story of Khaz Modan." 
 
 Sure enough, it was a long tale, one that decidedly required Sheik to turn around from her work a few times so that Muradin could show her some lines on the table, imaginary battle lines and all that. 
 
 Muradin did not go at length on the creation of Azeroth or how the dwarves first came to be. He was no historian or a theologist- he focused on what he knew. And that was the wars between the Alliance and the Horde. 
 
 He began with the Dark Portal, opening first in the lands of Stormwind Keep and the Orcish Hordes laying waste to the Southern Human lands. The sacrifice of King Llane and the great retreat lead by Anduin Lothar. Ironically, only after the events of the first war did Muradin mention Khaz Modan. He spoke of how Khaz Modan halted the Orc advance towards the Northern lands of Lordareon and how the Orcs, after exhausting all their resources failing to breach Ironforge, had to resort to building great ships to cross the sea and attack Lordareon directly. The Second War was won by the alliance, an alliance of Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes and Elves. And Sheik might wonder then, why did Muradin hate the elves so much if they were once his allies? 
 
 Well.. after the Second War there was the invasion of the Burning Legion and the fall of Lordareon. Muradin explained how Khaz Modan now had to halt the advances from the demons and undead from the north and once all was settled and the battle lines were drawn once again, one massive change had happened in the old Alliance. The elves had gone and joined with the Horde. 
 
 "Bloody Oathbreakers!!" Muradin slammed his meaty fist on the table- momentarily forgetting himself. "Sorry! Just.. get very emotional thinking about it.. we lost so many men defending Quel'thalas in the Second War, the homeland of the elves. Seeing them turn coat and join with the Horde years later just.... ugh...." He shakes his head. 
 
 "Anyway, that's the long and short of it. There's a bit more, but largely Khaz Modan wasn't involved with all the affairs of Azeroth." Plus, Muradin doesn't want to reveal all his cards just like that. He spoke at length of Azeroth, Khaz Modan and Ironforge... but he kept his story largely academic and not the least bit personal. He'd have to know Sheik a lot better to ever tell her about the tale of Prince Arthas. 
 

  The Hylian tilts her head, regarding Muradin with a raised brow and hooded eyes. His blatant and obvious joy about accessing the treasure troves of Hylian liquor are noted, but aside from a fleeting half-smile, she doesn't comment on it.

  "Thank you." Zelda dips her head briefly. The gesture is graceful, aristocratic; one could even consider it regal, despite her apparent youth. Her gaze strays to his selection, and as the cork pops, she tilts her head, eyes closing for a moment. "Mm. Goron firewater. Aged a minimum of two centuries. Oaken barrels, if I'm not mistaken." Her eyes open. "Drink all you like. The road to Death Mountain is open once more, though dangerous, and I can always trade for more of this."

  Honestly all she'd have to do is say 'I like this' and they'd be heaping cases of the stuff on her until she were sick half to death of it. Pity. If Castle Town's markets weren't rubble and ruin, she'd be able to ply this dwarven lord with spirits from all across Hyrule.

  Zelda turns her attention back to her bread, and if she punches the dough just a little harder than usual, well, no one's bound to notice. Kneading dough is hard work. She keeps the noise to a minimum, though, listening attentively through the story. When indicated she twists to note the lines drawn over the scarred wood of Snowpeak's counters. Her brows arch at Azeroth's history of war -- writ in blood, as some of Hyrule's histories were.

  "Perhaps circumstances had changed." Looking down, Zelda busies herself with shaping the dough onto wooden paddles and loading them into the garrison's huge ovens. She must have lit those earlier, which explains why the kitchen isn't completely cold. "Perhaps the Alliance that they had joined was no longer the Alliance that they knew."

  "It sounds like history is tumultuous, in your world," she muses, softly, taking up her teacup and leaning her hip against the counter again. "I expect such alliances must shift over the decades and centuries." Again, there's that weird element of age to her distant stare and her soft, distracted tone. She comes back into focus a moment later, glancing sidelong to Muradin. "You have satisfied my request, and in more measure than I had expected. I thank you." Zelda dips her head. "Shall I tell you of Hyrule...?"

 
 "Hmm! Goron Firewater, aye? Tis the good stuff!" Muradin approves wholeheartedly and one could always trust a dwarf's opinion when it came to liquor. He drinks from it heartily and all through his tale, perhaps more than Sheik might be accustomed to seeing from a non-Goron. But well, with the people that wander here it is possible that Sheik had seen people down the stuff nearly as much as Muradin is currently doing. 
 
 It would not be a bad idea to try and pay the Mountain King for his services with barrels of the Goron spirits, though it would also be highly suspicious for Muradin. He's already quite intrigued why this handmaiden commands so much power over Hyrule's subjects. To the point that she almost seems like the regent in the absence of the royal family. Not to mention her power, she is clearly more than just a handmaiden, a bodyguard as well considering her prowess in archery. All highly suspicious thoughts.. though ultimately thoughts that Muradin at this point doesn't care for investigating much. He is a warrior after all, not a detective, if Sheik really wants to keep all those secrets he might as well let her. Just as long as he bashes skulls, gets paid in some way, and that Anna doesn't get devoured by demons... the dwarven lord thinks that will suffice. 
 
 "Ah, 'course ye'd try to get on their side." Mutters Muradin as Sheik offers a different perspective to the betrayal of the Elves. He sighs though, rather than get absolutely libid as he would have otherwise done in the past. "Oh go ahead and advocate for 'em I guess, i'm certain it seemed just and fair from their perspective. After all, despite our best efforts, Quel'thalas eventually did fall to the Forsaken. I canna think wot me and my people would have done if Khaz Modan had fallen to an invader." He grits his teeth and drinks another long gulp of firewater. "Still.. it doesn't change that they're Oathbreakers, the worst thing a person can be in the eyes of a dwarf like me. Hmph!" One way or another, Muradin's low opinion of the new Blood Elves wasn't going to change. Though at least he wasn't lumping Sheik with them anymore. 
 
 "Oh aye, by all means." He says, his good mood returning. Honestly, despite all the horrors and betrayals of the past, its difficult for Muradin to stay mad for too long when he has some good drink in hand and the Goron Firewater is definitely doing it for him. "Tell me yer tale o' handmaiden, that I may know ye better." 

  "While considered authorities in the fields of mining and metalworking, there are many fine Goron traditions of brewing ale. Of course, much of the raw agricultural material is imported to Death Mountain from Hyrule, but the results speak for themselves." Zelda gestures towards the bottle with her teacup. "I happen to know the current master brewer. Positively ancient, and quite a talented fellow."

  She pauses to sip from her tea, regarding the dwarf lord evenly. No doubt the idea of paying Muradin in Goron spirits has crossed her mind; no doubt some corner of her mind is even now plotting how to get several casks up to Snowpeak Garrison safely.

  "Would I?" Zelda inquires, patiently raising a brow. "Bear in mind that I have no point of reference for any of these people, no matter which side they fall within: Alliance or Horde. The divisions are, as of yet, arbitrary to me. Of your people, I have met none but a dwarf." The Hylian shakes her head. "I do not even know if the humans of your world are the same as mine." That might be an interesting tidbit to research, later, when she has time enough to think about exploring new realms for the sake of it.

  She shakes her head at his bluster about the Blood Elves, but she doesn't comment, beyond a soft, resigned, and somewhat exasperated sigh. No, there's certainly no disguising how little he thinks of the Blood Elves. So much so that she even seems to expect it of him now.

  Turning, Zelda paces in front of the ovens, leaning over at the waist to eye them. It's starting to smell pretty good in the kitchens, but it doesn't look like they're ready. She turns, leaning her hip against the counter closest to her, wrapping her fingers around her stoneware cup.

  "Hyrule was created eons ago by the three Goddesses. Din shaped the red earth. Farore gave life to that earth. Nayru created the natural laws that govern all." Her narrative is soft, but it carries the cant of a lay-speaker; equal parts ritual narrative, driven by its own sense of flow. "When They finished Their task, They departed from this realm, leaving behind a relic."

  "Wars were fought for the sake of the Power of Gold. Tribes were torn asunder as brother fought against brother. Hyrule's history is writ in blood, as well, in its own measure. In time, however, seven wise men created a seal upon the Power of Gold, banishing it to its own realm for the good of all. Peace and prosperity returned to Hyrule."

  "Then came the Twili, walkers of the realm between light and shadow." Zelda frowns and shakes her head, slowly. "Not even Hyrule's finest sages could protect us from the magic they wielded. The soldiers' arrows and spears found no mark on the hides of the usurper's beasts." Those summer-blue eyes harden, and though her face is still cool and detached, something in her eyes and her voice hints at real anger. "They murdered the royal family in their beds." Her mouth tightens. "The princess..."

  She cuts herself off, shaking her head. "I escaped, Goddesses know how. I fled Castle Town; but like a plague, the Twilight has spread out from Hyrule Castle like a blight on the land." She flicks a hand southward. "Even now you can see the husk of it from here, rotting from within, though I suppose the only boon is that the rains have cleared the smoke." There's a pause as Zelda sips at her tea, and the movement somehow telegraphs her annoyance. "The Twilight King cannot rule what he has captured, because he has no interest in it. He would not even think to maintain. I've no doubt the whole of the city is unsalvageable at this point." Her sigh is a little dejected. "Goddesses. If we ever have Castle Town back, the repairs will take decades."

 
 "Hm.. these Goron folk sound a lot like Dwarves." Muses Muradin. It all makes odd sense to him now. If there are humans in Hyrule, and there are Hylans as well, which look like Elves, then surely, there is the Dwarven equivalent as well. Interesting. The more he travels the realms, the more familiar everything appears to be. It is as if all is one universe with many alternative paths. If he was any smarter, Muradin would try to dig deeper into these great mysteries, but currently he is far more interested in crushing skulls with his hammer. One could hardly blame him for that- it has its own appeal. 
 
 "I suppose." The dwarf relents when Sheik wisely reminds him that all she has to say is from a complete impartial perspective. She may look like a Blood Elf but she is by no means beholden to any of them, nor does she truly know of any of the intricate politics of the Alliance and the Horde. It's funny actaully, someone like Sheik would thrive in there, she seems to have a knack for fancy talk. It may be why its so difficult for Muradin to not imagine her as a politician. "Sorry, again, I ain't trying to throw any blame around anymore. The betrayal of the Blood Elves is just something that's deeply personal. So much that its hard fer me to look at it from a different angle.." Muradin doubts that Sheik would ever understand, not unless she comes face to face with the dealings of Azeroth, but that will have to be a tale for another time- if ever it is told indeed. 
 
 For now, the dwarven lord focuses and listens on Sheik's tale. She has a way with words this one, where Muradin spoke his tale like a documentary, Sheik's prose is like poetry, an epic tale told by a story teller rather than a historian. The dwarf finds himself leaning back on his chair again, picturing the three godesses, and the relic they left behind, and the wars that followed. And the dreaded Twili. 
 
 "Ah! So that's where those gits come from!" Finally, a little bit of info about their enemy. Muradin never asks who he fights, or how many, he just wants to know where are they so he can march up and bash skulls- but he'd be an idiot to refuse information as a whole. So, it seems these Twili guys are some kind of monsters that are highly resistant to phsyical attacks. No wonder they were able to overwhelm Sheik's forces and what not. 
 
 "Well, unfortunately for them magical weapons are a staple of Ironforge. Mithrios and Troggbane in particular are built specifically to rend through unnatural hide. Ye've done well in recruiting me." He assures her, already eager to test the mettle of these Twili. 
 
 Of course, Muradin's enthusiasm doesn't last long this time, not after Sheik's finishes off with what the Twili did to the Royal Family and what has happened to the lands. These monsters sound worse than the Horde, they might actually have more in common with the Burning Legion if all they want to do is destroy for the sake of destroying. 
 
 At the end of Sheik's tale, Muradin can feel her despair, and the anger that even if they were to drive the enemy back the damage would take a long time to heal. It makes him frown. It reminds him of Anna in a way.. her rage and despair and lust for vengeance. Say one thing for Muradin.. say that he knows how it is to hold on to a grudge. 
 
 "Oi.." The dwarf isn't much for consoling folk, but sometimes all he can really do is his best. He tries to reach for Sheik's arm and grip her there slightly. "It's alright. I told ye I'll help ye." 
 
 He leans back again on his chair with a soft smile. "One way or another, I got yer back from now on, mate." 

  Zelda may shrug a shoulder, but she doesn't look entirely convinced over the parallel between Dwarves and Gorons. There might be certain similarities, but she's pretty sure that Dwarves don't include rocks and minerals as part of their regular diet.

  You never know, though. Weirder things happen in the Tree.

  To the issue of Blood Elves, she can only shake her head, sipping at her tea. A hand moves to swill around what's left in her cup. When it comes down to it, she doesn't have a horse in that race. It's simply in her nature to be more objective than Muradin's knee-jerk emotional reaction. Too much emotion can obscure the real issues.

  "Yes." Setting aside her cup, 'Sheik' glances back to Muradin, summer-blue eyes sharp. "They come from the Twilight Realm. It is more complicated than that, but yes, that is where they have arrived in Hyrule from." Her eyes turn back to the oven as she speaks. "Mm. Perhaps your weapons will succeed where others have failed, but that is not so simple an issue, either. "I cannot doubt your courage, in any case."

  As the Dwarf reaches out, the Hylian is already moving to evade, neatly stepping away before his hand can close around her. Her eyes are cool and distant, but her smile is at least apologetic. This is a person who dislikes being touched.

  "I appreciate the sentiment. Rest assured that you will be compensated appropriately." Zelda tips her head faintly. "Perhaps in time I will tell you more of the tale."

 
 Sure, Muradin's emotions are very strong- one might say that the fires of his forge burn incredibly bright. However, as a royal he knows that there's a lot of value in being prudent. He wouldn't have made it very far in his position, or in life for that matter, if he simply went with the first assumption that came to his head. Why, in fact, he wouldn't be sitting in front of Zelda at this very moment as he would have done -something- to antagonize her merely for looking like a Blood Elf. As he told her earlier, he's trying hard to be a better dwarf that he had been in the past. Perhaps old Muradin, a Muradin from Azeroth, would have scoffed at the idea and ignored all this business of helping a kingdom populated by elven look alikes. Xenophobia and stupidity ran rampant in that world, a world so absolutely scarred by war that everyone was prone to do knee-jerk reactions in order to protect themselves. That usually ended up causing more problems as Muradin had learned and he thought it was time to turn over a new leaf. Ultimately, Muradin understand what the real issue here is, he just doesn't like approaching it and also lacks Zelda's more traditional royal tact. 
 
 "Hmm.." Muradin listens as 'Sheik' explains further to the nature of these Twili, all whilst taking a big great gulp of the Goron Firewater. More than just a fearsome fighter, Muradin is a commander and a general in a huge army. Gears are already turning in his head on how best approach this foe that seems to be resistant to mundane weapons, so much that even his mighty Mirithos and Troggbane might have trouble. "Sure wish me older brother was here." He muses. "Magni was a master smith, and he could dish out great legendary weapons like nobody's business. He coulda forged ye a proper sword or some such that'd be sure to pierce through those blighters--" 
 
 He seems taken back when Zelda avoids the grasp to her arm. Again, knee-jerk reactions against calm cold emotions, Muradin had sought to console her in the dwarven way and show solidarity by grasping her forearm, but Zelda was the type that valued her personal place. Oof.. that's awkward. Muradin makes an embarassed grin when he realizes that he was taking too many liberties there and tries to laugh it off. 
 
 "Haah, come on, lass! Ye donna have to be so formal with me. all this talk of payment and such-- why don't ye wait till I've knocked some skulls for ye first before we sign any contracts hm? But hey! Ye've already seen me in action, I have a knack fer bashing skulls from undead and shadowy critters! Hah! I'll have these Twili running fer the hills before ye know it!" He takes another gulp of some of that liquid bravery and sets down his mug. 
 
 "Ah! Ye wanna know how they called me in me home of Azeroth?? Mura-WIN! HAHAHA! Get it?? Muradin? More-wins?? Pretty clever, aye??" 
 
 He cackles loudly at his own joke before clearing his throat and rubbing his beard to try and calm down. "But aye, more of yer tale would be appreciate it. I'm honored that ye'd share that with me." 

  The Hylian cringes slightly at the sight of Muradin gulping down Goron firewater. To the best of her knowledge, the stuff is at the top of the scale when it comes to Hyrulean spirits. Guardsmen have been known to use it as a very effective cleaning solution for things like 'eating rust' or 'making wounds sterile.' Just imagine what it must do to the innards.

  "A sword..." That draws a reaction from the woman. Her face remains neutral, but there's something almost irritated in her voice. "Oh, yes. Hyrule has many storied weapons in its histories. There are none so storied as the Blade of Evil's Bane. The Master Sword: A blade forged by the Goddess Hylia herself, smithed from a fallen star. Yes, that would do..."

  "However, I cannot wield it." She sighs. Curiously, it sounds more than resigned. "In every age, there is born one whose soul is that of the Chosen Hero; Hylia's chosen champion." Zelda swills the dregs of her tea around in her cup, looking down at it. "I know where the Master Sword sleeps, but I could not even remove it from its dais."

  "The spread of the Twilight is accelerating." Zelda puffs a sigh, and again there's a flicker of frightening age in those summer-blue eyes. At least they don't glow like a Blood Elf's. Oh, and at least her eyebrows are normal. Actually, if not for the ears, she'd look pretty human, if one of slim build. "I do not doubt that it has spread from its footholds throughout central Hyrule."

  She shakes her head in the face of his laughter, but she doesn't close the distance. Evidently this one is unusually skittish, and values her personal space.

  "While I must commend your courage and confidence in your own skills," she comments blandly, setting her empty cup aside, "I sincerely doubt the matter will be quite so easy in practise." She straightens, sobering. "I would advise you to have a little caution, too. Surely something that has laid low an entire kingdom is worth some caution, yes?"

  ...Mura-win.

  Zelda's expression remains extremely bland.

  "...In any case," Moving right along, "I will be sure to tell you when I have the details. There is still research I must do before I commit to a course of action, and action will also be at the mercy of the weather." A slim hand flicks to indicate the wind howling outside. "Travel in and out of Peak Province can be a narrow window, and a dangerous one."

 
 Why.. that's just good proper ale! For a human gulping down such powerful concoctions might be very unhealthy, if not fatal, but as a dwarf Muradin drinks this kind of stuff daily. Yet another reason that he suspects there might be some similarity between dwarves and Gorons, particularly if both races are able to knock drinks down like this... though he's not really worrying too much about it. Really, it seems that at worst he would have let out a big burp if he wasn't around polite company, but he realizes that he'd probably earn Sheik's eternal disgust if he did that in her presence so he puts his mouth to the back of his forearm and stifles the burp a little more politely. "Hm, that's some good stuff." He says appreciating the liquor. 
 
 The dwarven lord notices the change of tone from Sheik's voice. Why did the mention of a sword seemed to irritate her so? His eyebrows furrow and he listens to the tale of this alleged Master Sword. "Huh! Now that sounds like a proper blade!" Imagine that! A sword forged by a goddess from a fallen star! Why are they not using that right now against the Twili!? 
 
 "Oh..." Sheik quickly answers Muradin's unsaid question as she explains that this Mster Sword is meant for someone else. An apparent Chosen Hero, and that without him Sheik isn't even capable of pulling it out of the dais. "Well, sounds to me like this hero isn't doing his bloody job then. Where is he even??" Muttes the dwarf as he takes yet another big gulp of the firewater. At this point a human would probably be sprawled out on the ground, and yet the dwarf just keeps tossing them back. 
 
 He scratches at his bearded chin thoughtfully. Thinking about it, this is yet another Big Problem he's had with a sword, he only hopes that this Master Sword isn't at all like the last sword expedition he had. Getting Frostmourne was... a dozzy to say the least, it kinda sorta killed him even. Thankfully this Master Sword doesn't seem like the cursed type so maybe Muradin may still be able to do something about retrieving it. Maybe find this hero and drag him to the dais- kicking and screaming if he has to. 
 
 As he thinks of that he notices Sheik puffing a bit again and he arches his eyebrow at her. He's started to learn that whenever the elven maiden does that she's about to say something serious and important 
 
 "Then its imperative that we move quickly." He says with his usual urgency as Sheik reminds him that the Twilight is spreading. "The more we linger 'ere waiting for the Hero to show up, the more time we're giving the Twili to get foothold in yer lands. The least that we can do is push 'em back till we can use the Master Sword against them. Right now, ye donna need a Hero, Sheik. Ye need warriors with propa' gear. I may not be able to forge magical weapons like me brother but I can.. I can try and do something with the proper resources. If we can get me a forge I can probably arm yer soldiers with at least-- I dunno, something! On that note, how many warriors do ye have at yer disposal? It's not just me, aye?" 
 
 Of course, he was expecting her to say that he wasn't taking the threat with the proper amount of caution, but it's quite the contrary. Muradin is eager to go meet it in battle because he recognizes how dangerous it seems to be. The sooner he can butt heads with a Twili, the faster he can learn what are their strengths and weaknesses. 
 
 "I know, I know, I ain't underestimating yer Twilight situation." He assures her. "But lemme tell ye with pure honesty here, I've dealt with many -many- forces that have laid low entire kingdoms. The Scourge, The Burning Legion, hell, the whole Orc Horde invasion just seems like a warm up at this point. I have.. a wee bit of experience with these things. Lemme assure ye I'm taking all the precautions necessary here." Muradin's bravado might look very theatric but he has indeed seen a lot of combat that has shattered entire nations.

 
 Muradin can't say he's surprised that Sheik found no amusement from his joke, but at least it looks like it broke the ice a little bit. Maybe? Anyway, she tells him that there is yet much to consider before they can sally forth to even fight the Twili and he nods, settling down a bit more. "Aye, aye. Just lemme know when it'll be a good time. It's yer lands and ye know them better." 
 
 He huffs a bit.. Muradin is not very patient.. and the sooner he could get into fighting the better. Even now he purses his lips and thinks of how best to spend his time, he could be stuck in this keep for a while after all. 
 
 He trails his finger across the table as he gets in idea. "Say... Sheik..." He glances warily at her. "Wot do ye know... about gunpowder?" 
 
 Of course.. when magic isn't readily available.. turn to technology. That's what gave the Alliance an edge over the Horde at the beginning of the wars.