Hey, thanks for reading this! This is Goldenrhino...and this is my second attempt at any sort of fanfiction whatsoever. The first one ended up not going beyond the first chapter...hopefully this doesn't happen the same way!

Anyway, please read and review! If there's any confusion in this chapter, it will be cleared up later...so enjoy!

-Goldenrhino

The warehouse was immense. It's walls seemed to stretch out endlessly, though most of it was cloaked in shadow and darkness. It was filled with assorted boxes and crates that were haphazardly stacked on one another, but a straight path had been cleared through the middle, leaving a hallway-like corridor from one end of the building to another.

At one end of the hallway there was a doorway, and in that doorway stood a boy. A tall youth, clothed in dark leather armor, with flaming red hair and glistening eyes that burned brightly even on the darkest night. On his left hand he wore a heavy metal gauntlet that was too large for him: indeed, it fitted him awkwardly, as if it were not made for him...

He stepped into the warehouse. As he walked through the path, he became aware of faces staring at him on both sides. At a second glance, he realized they were wooden puppets, crudely cut mannequins. They were not unlike any other puppets one could see at a street fair or children's theater, but these had the most grotesque expressions on their painted faces he had ever seen.

Looking forward, many more puppets became visible. Their faces were diverse—joyful, sad, angry, happy, depressed—yet each of them held pain, as if they were forced into their numerous expressions. Each puppet was more realistic than the last: while the ones at the front were hardly chunks of wood, they continued to become more lifelike, growing arms, legs, hair, joints, and feet. How many he passed, he did not know, but as he neared the end of the corridor, he could barely tell whether they were puppets or humans.

At the end, he saw a short, silhouetted figure, hunched over a large table. A small candle illuminated a multitude of wood-working equipment, along with hundreds of paints and brushes. From it the quiet scratching sound of knife on wood could be heard, as well as the soft sifting as wood shavings drifted to the ground. The craftsman did not turn around, nor made any sign of of having noticed the boy's approach, yet he spoke:

"Soon, Gail, you will make a choice."

The craftsman stood and turned around, his entire figure shrouded by a heavy cloak. He held up his latest creation for Gail to see. It was still crude, but it had joints and was movable. The craftsman bent one of the legs, then let it fall into its natural position.

"A puppet like this has no will of its own. No matter how lifelike one of these are, they have no mind, no feelings. They cannot feel pain."

He raised an arm up and down several times, looking at it carefully. He seemed to find something distasteful with its construction, and made a displeased expression.

"The master has full control over the puppet. If something does not satisfy the master..."

In a sudden movement he snapped the arm off completely. Dropping it onto the ground, he snapped his fingers in front of the rest of the puppet, and flames burst from its head. He then tossed the puppet into a nearby barrel, where it continued to burn and crackle fiercely.

"It will be destroyed."

The craftsman turned around, choosing a new block of wood from a shelf above him. He sat down with an audible sigh. In an instant the darkness seemed to encroach a bit further, and the shadows seemed to become more malevolent. The table, craftsman, and candle seemed to fade into the distance as the shadows closed in.

"The time of awakening...will be soon."

The darkness pounced, and Gail saw no more.

Kakariko. "Town of the volcano," they called it. The large town perched precariously on the mountainside, hundreds of feet above the earth below. Geographically, it stood at a focal point: the last major trade center before entering the Great Wastelands. Hundreds of merchants and caravans made their way here every year, trading and acquiring prized merchandise. On the largest of Kakariko's many Market Days, the crowds there could number in the tens of thousands.

So much for trying to find someone in that crowd.

A lone mercenary stood in front of the front gate. The guard was glaring at his identification. Sure, it was accurate, but this tall, burly warrior-type figure seemed dangerous. The leather armor and poorly-hidden sword made him even more suspicious. He would make sure to alert the command post about this...

"Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," the guard said as he handed the mercenary back his permission slip. "Have a good day."

Entering through the main gate, the mercenary immediately found himself facing an immense sea of people from all sorts of backgrounds. People from every sort of country and race, selling and buying every imaginable item, massed together in the market plaza. Wily Calatian merchants, hawking rare Goron jewelry; Ordonian herdsmen, with their prized goats and cheese; famed Labrynnan chefs, enticing customers with exotic dishes and smells; even an elusive Zora mage, selling precious magic tomes and spell books. Colorful banners hung from tall posts, advertising all sorts of products and entertainment. The mercenary clenched his teeth as he judged the impossibility of his task...

"They said this would be simple," he muttered to himself. "Find the guy, deliver the message, and report back. But no...fate would have it otherwise."

His "friend" was said to be somewhere in the Northern Market District. Throwing caution to the winds, he pushed his way confidently into into the streets, and tried to make his way through. He tripped almost immediately. He tried to get back up, but was simply shoved back down again. He attempted to gain his footing, but bashed his head into a pillar. Before he could reorient himself, he found himself carried along helplessly in the crowd. Pushed on all sides by human walls, he found himself moving up a sharp incline away from the market district.

"Curse the Goddesses," he thought. "I've got to get back down there!"

He struggled to move back, forcing a path through with his strong arms, not caring about anyone in the way. He found a bit of a vantage point near an old fountain, so he waited there, shading his eyes from the sun as the crowds weaved around him. Twenty minutes of searching proved fruitless. He was about to move on, when...

"Look out!"

A runaway horse, eyes spooked with fear, came barreling through the market. A ramshackle cart, filled with crates of cuccos screaming bloody murder, came clattering behind it. The crowd in front tried to flee, but many were too late to avoid its mad charge. The horse whinnied, terrified even more, then lowered his head directly at the mercenary.

He hesitated one moment. The horse charged.

SNATCH!

A hand reached out and jerked him aside at the last minute. The mercenary hit the road hard, knocking him out of breath for a few moments. The horse continued its blind charge up the street, taking its screaming cargo away with it. The mercenary shook his head as he stood up slowly.

"You've really got to stop abusing yourself."

He turned to thank the man who had rescued him, but found that he had already gone back to his stall. The man had an unusual fashion sense, to say the least: a bright yellow performer's robe, and streaks of green pigment in his hair, complimented by the rather large silver and amethyst pendant around his neck. A dark cloak completed the entire outfit, which on anyone else would have seemed perfectly ridiculous, but seemed perfect for him...

But it wasn't the ludicrous outfit that seemed so strange, nor the strange block of wood he held in his hands, but rather at his unusually awkward movements. His eyebrows moved individually; he would make sudden, jerky movements with his hands; one of his arms would droop for long moments, then spring up again. It was unnerving, to say the least.

The mercenary forced himself to stop staring at the man's ludicrous outfit. He walked up to the stall. The man turned ever so slightly, a smile painted on his face. He extended his hand to his. "Welcome! I am the Master Puppeteer. Would you like to buy one of my puppets?"

"Has he forgotten who I was already? This guy must be crazy...it suits him." "I'd like to thank you for saving me back there."

"Hee hee...no need for thanks, Hadrian."

The mercenary was startled. "How did you know my name?"

"Hee hee...I know many things about many people, friend."

"Okay, now you're creeping me out."

Hadrian took a step away from the stall. The streets were emptier after the horse had passed through, but people were coming back to the street. He quickly scanned the stalls nearby: no sign of his target. "Looks like I'll have to go back down..."

"The friend you're looking for is to your left."

"Wah?" Hadrian whirled his head around. Sure enough, there he was...he would recognize that red cloak anywhere. "But how did you..."

"As I've said, friend, I know many things about many people." A marionette appeared in the puppeteer's hands, and did a little dance, clacking its heels on the wooden stall.

Hadrian shook his head. "I must be going. Thank you for your time."

"Hee hee...I suggest you hurry. And..." The last words faded out of hearing.

"And someone is waiting for you. A dangerous fate rests in your hands. Hurry!"

Hadrian jumped. There was no way he could have finished that phrase in his own head. Unless...

He whirled around. The stall was gone, and so was the Master Puppeteer. They had simply vanished, as if there were nothing there in the first place.

He reached for his hidden sword, fearing danger. His hand brushed against something unfamiliar tied onto his belt. He jerked, and a string snapped, letting it free.

It was a puppet. With crude limbs and no face, it was nothing more than a hunk of wood. But there was something more...magic was in the air.

He flipped it over, hoping to find answers.

A signature. A "M" and a "P," deftly carved, with a delicate, flowing script.

The Master Puppeteer.

Read and review! Tell me if you're interested in seeing another chapter! I will review reply as well...perhaps.

And if you're wondering at who the Master Puppeteer is...well, let's just say that he's somehow related to the Happy Mask Salesman. Go and read his description again, you may find something interesting...hee hee.

For your info, I tend to write how I think. And I imagine stories in individual parts, which may or may not be connected at first. So if some parts of this seem to be lacking something, they'll all fall together...but you'll have to keep reading!

-Goldenrhino