When time flows as if its fled.
Where the lands turn from green to red.
Why the paths of heroes have gone untread.
How the crown is dead.
Whom holds power, rules instead.
-A Founder's Requiem
A lone figure in a forest green cloak sat cross legged before a fire, two fairies fluttering around veiled shoulders and twittering in high pitched voices. A hat and high cowl obscured the figure's facial features, save for the hints of two pointed ears and piercing blue eyes. There was a certain music bubbling from out of the surrounding forest, something familiar and yet oh so ancient. It was a song from so very long ago, and the figure seemed to be put at ease by it, almost hypnotised into letting down a guard. Almost.
Thus it was to the horror of the Moblyn ambushers when their surprise attack was met with cold blue steel and devilish fairy fire. A long and magnificently crafted sword was peeking by several feet from out of the folds of the green cloak, held by a warrior's glove tooled in the finest titan's leather. Where once the figure had been sitting, listening; now it was standing and the Moblyns were no more. One sword flick and then another, the two opportunistic creatures paying for their foolhardy ambitions. Blue steel was sheathed, and forest green cloak enveloped a figure's form once again.
'Look,' pitched one fairy, 'Listen,' said another. The figure cocked its head, a pointed ear tip becoming clearly visible; the song from out the forrest had stopped.
Sharp blue eyes followed the voice of the first fairy to something buried on the corpse of the smaller of the two Moblyns. It was buried in the tunic of the Moblyn, attached by a leather thong and worn around the neck. The first fairy darted and dashed in and out of the clothing, retrieving the item by the cord. Fluttering up, the fairy dangled it in front of the figure's shaded face; it was an artifact of memory, and a device matching something the figure already carried. It was an ocarina, a forest ocarina. A maker's mark was etched on the corner of ocarina device; seeing it made the figure blanch visibly, obvious even in the dark of the night and the concealment of a voluminous cloak. It was the mark of Saria.