The Legendary Stormwind Ark
“Once, a god fell from heaven, stilling the Hebra winds.
The heavens grew lifeless, just as the air below thinned.
With the world in upheaval, we pledged to help the lord.
A line of ships soaring, built as a passage skyward.
The god ascended to heaven, leaving behind an ark.
Its winds brought us new life, thanks to its great, divine spark.”
— Song of the Stormwind Ark, Tears of the Kingdom
The heavens grew lifeless, just as the air below thinned.
With the world in upheaval, we pledged to help the lord.
A line of ships soaring, built as a passage skyward.
The god ascended to heaven, leaving behind an ark.
Its winds brought us new life, thanks to its great, divine spark.”
— Song of the Stormwind Ark, Tears of the Kingdom
What has become of the wind? What has become of the people who harnessed it? Who among us can make sense of tragedy? As the blizzard bore down upon Rito Village, it was not just daily life that was interrupted, but the order of the world itself. As warmth was sapped away by frozen gusts and the clear sky drowned out by snow, the Rito lost not just their livelihoods but their way of life. Just as in The Wind Waker, where a tormented spirit was too distressed to provide the scales that granted the Rito their wings, a new threat has thrown the cosmic balance off-kilter. In the depths of isolation, cut off from the rest of the world, where were the Rito to turn? With a chaotic present and unclear future, the Rito turned to the one surety available: the wisdom of the past. Though not a direct solution to their current emergency, this seeking after myth and legend at least helped to make sense of it and tie a thread of narrative continuity to their past hardships. So, which story did they revisit for a semblance of sense from the past? Let us read the story as presented in the Rito Records found in the Hebra Trailhead Lodge:
“One day, the winds that ought to blow in Rito Village ceased. Then the heavens grew stagnant, and the earth fell to ruin. The villagers looked skyward for a solution. They saw a figure pierce through the unmoving gray clouds and descend swiftly toward them. Believing no ordinary being could fall from the heavens, the villagers called this figure a god. And the god stood atop a hill day after day, longing to return home to their island in the heavens. The villagers, forgetting their own troubles, tried to carry the god home on their proud wings. Yet who could say how far it might be, the place this god came from? The Rito took flight in turn, each hoping to reach that place above the clouds . . . Alas, none had wings strong enough. Seeing this, the god told the leader of the village that returning to the heavens was possible if the Rito gathered materials. Their spirits high, the villagers set about doing so. The god nodded upon seeing the tall pile of materials. This, they understood, would be enough. The god poured a strange power into the pile, and several small boats were assembled. Cautiously, the villagers boarded. The small vessels began floating up into the air. With the god leading them, the boats rose higher and higher, soon passing through the thick clouds. The vastness of the heavens took the villagers' breath away. Floating islands dotted a clear blue sky. The villagers rejoiced songfully and then, with reluctance, returned to earth. One day, winds at the village roared back to life. In shock, the villagers looked to the sky. Floating above them was an enormous ship that the god had sent in gratitude. Numerous oars on both sides began to move like wings, soundlessly churning the skies . . . Air blew across Hebra once again. The skies cleared, and blooming flowers rose from the ground. The god had given them the blessing of wind. This ark that saved the village from catastrophe came to be known as the Stormwind Ark. So ends the story of the Stormwind Ark that saved the village long ago.”
The only other remnant of this tale extant in Rito culture is the children’s nursery rhyme first sung to Link by Molli, Genli, and Notts upon his arrival to the storm-bound village. The Rito have always been a musical people, and this oral history may have descended from the villagers of old, who “rejoiced songfully” before returning reluctantly to the earth. Although not immediately obvious, this children’s song does in fact contain the seeds of the Rito’s deliverance; though the details between the previous catastrophe and the current adversity differ, what ties them together is the “world in upheaval” that requires a mythic figure to bring “new life” back to the land. As Link searches Rito Village for further clues — finding that nearly all the adults have left in search of resources — he eventually stumbles upon Teba, the new village elder, Saki, his wife, and Tulin, their son. Unlike Komali, son of the Rito Chieftain in The Wind Waker, who lacks courage, Tulin evinces confidence to the point of brashness. These two, in their way, exemplify the two extremes of courage — recklessness on one hand, and cowardice on the other —, and part of Link’s role in their lives, as the embodiment of divine courage, is to help them become balanced members of their own societies. Komali gains his confidence and receives his wings, and Tulin is taught restraint and the value of pulling together. But when Link first encounters Tulin, the fledgling is trying to confront the world on his own, against his parents’ better judgment. Not only does he scorn the advice of others, but he fails to see any truth in the legend of the Stormwind Ark, writing it off as mere weakness — something to be clung to out of fear instead of humility. [1] Flying off into the blizzard, Tulin attempts to mount a campaign of his own. Pointed skyward by Teba and Saki, Link pursues Tulin through the snowy gale high into the Hebran mountains, retrieving the youth’s prized bow from enemies. It is in this moment that Tulin first hears the ancient sage’s call. It summons him upward, past Hebra’s peak, past the fallen relics of forgotten times, past the clouds themselves, and into the clear, thin air.
I like to imagine the fragmented paths of the Rising Island Chain serving as an aerial city for the Rito, with vendors, bustle, and fellowship. In my mind, it is an intermediary place between their home below and the realm of the gods above. Wooden storage boxes, cooking pots, and a fishing-pool stocked with Chillfin Trout bear testament to this whim of the imagination, if they do not hint at its reality. I keep this image alive in my head, for what Link finds is a cold, stepwise ascent into a desolate world. The path itself begins on Hebra’s highest summit. Our first glimpse of ancient Rito architecture is a stepped platform of regular stone, accentuated by red paint. What are we to make of this architecture? It seems thousands of miles and years removed from the light and lofty houses and walkways of Rito Village. The stone platforms are dense and ancient; the path they form is angular, twisting, erratic. It climbs at odd angles and more than once drops away into the empty sky. It is here that the questions begin accumulating: If the ancient god returned to heaven aboard a flying ship, for whom was this path built? Were these platforms, ruins, and towers once connected? How are these blocks made to float without Zonaite? After the god returned, what was the Rito connection to this place? Ultimately, these questions chase answers we will never discover, but the fact of the ascent remains, and we must acknowledge the verticality of this part of Link’s quest. He arrives at Rito Village and must take its walkways up, only to find that he must next scale Hebra’s mountains; then, upon reaching the summit, he and Tulin find a fractured path into the sky; finally, when the path gives way, the pair must navigate the winds and launch themselves over the cloud-layer. This journey is one of ascension after ascension, and it is fitting that this adventure should relate to the Rito, whose Champion Revali once created a means of soaring straight into the sky.
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It is here I would like to call our attention back to Rito Village and the stepwise pattern so ubiquitous in Rito ceramics and textiles. In our world, a staircase, or stepped, pattern can be found in indigenous art the Americas over, from the “stair to heaven” motif found in the American Southwest to exquisite geometric Moche pottery to the intricate friezes of Mayan palaces. Among some native peoples of the Southwest United States, the stepped pyramid form, or “stair to heaven,” symbolizes “the clouds [that form the] stairs which lead to heaven.” [2] In this way, one moves artistically from a lower plane to a higher one, and the symbol becomes multilayered; it is at once evocative of upward movement, the clouds, and the sky. The ubiquity of this symbol in Rito design might speak to all these things, and, what’s more, it might nod to their ancient past and the architectural marvels floating above their heads. In this sense, while exact knowledge of the Stormwind Ark has been lost, it lives on as an archetypal image in Rito art.
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Above: Detail of a frieze on an arch in Labna, Yucatán, Mexico. Image credit: Bernard Dupont, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Left: Bottle with stepped design; Nazca, Peru, 1-400 CE. Image in the Public Domain. |
What begins as a cluster of stone islets quickly grows in complexity as Link and Tulin climb. The accumulated snow sweeps across angular designs painted in dull reds and blues upon a sandy stone. Frost-coated pillars crop up, and staircases lead only to the void. A ship is spotted. It is here that Tulin hears the otherworldly voice for the second time, and it is here that he begins to believe that the Stormwind Ark might be real — that it just might have some role to play in the saving of his people. These (what I will call going forward) skyships, built by the Rito to aid the god in returning home, were placed at junctions where no other route upward seems to have existed (and which seem to have been made for Hylians and Zonai). While the first skyships we encounter are simply placed at the edges of some islands, we soon see them become formalized into the architectural setting itself. They are enveloped in columned islands with central, sunken openings, into which Link must jump in order to push ahead. At lower altitudes, small, two-oared boats predominate. Immediately, these may call to mind the Viking longship, but this is a misconception for a number of reasons: 1) longships were notoriously thin, light, and agile, while these are wider and sturdier; 2) longships were, well, long, while these are stocky; 3) longships largely had pronounced prows and sternposts, and while the skyships have a rising keel and beautiful prow, their sterns are flat; and 4) thematically, this would make little sense, given the connections of the Rito to the pre-Columbian Americas. In the pursuit of thematic continuity, let us head there first.
Materially, we are given few clues, as boats are never made out of stone, unless for architectural ornament, as in the case of the Qianlong Emperor’s Marble Boat in Beijing, China [3], or in the case of the Stone Ship from Phantom Hourglass. There are a few examples of boats and ships made by South American cultures, from the totora-reed boats of the Moche (called caballitos de totora in Spanish) in coastal Peru to the reed boats of the Uru on Lake Titicaca between Bolivia and Peru. Farther north, in the Northwest United States, the Kwakiutl built phenomenal, intricate canoes embellished with animal motifs. And while you won’t find a one-to-one correspondence in ship design between the Rito and any of these cultures, the rough shape of the caballito is similar to that of the skyships, while the balsas of the Uru have animalistic figureheads and, occasionally, masts and sails. The animal patterning, specifically the feather motifs, may be a nod to northern Native American shipbuilding traditions. The skyships themselves are exquisite, with their varied stonework, patterning, and sails. They creak melancholically against the wind, and there is something distinctly beautiful whenever the shadow of one passes over you — the fleeting shade gives a sense of connection with the past Rito, contrasting the relative isolation of Link and Tulin in the present. I love this feeling. The figurehead at the prow, likely in homage to Vah Medoh (or, depending on the timeline, inspiration for Vah Medoh), has a broad eye — hollow, like the stone ring of a Maya ballcourt —, a curved beak, and stylized, angular feathers at its crown. For having been exposed to the elements for so long, the colors, especially in the textiles, have held up remarkably well. Aside from the birdlike prow, there are two stringcourses of layered stone feathers with alternating red and white paint, as well as an oar design similar to an abstracted, tapered feather.
Materially, we are given few clues, as boats are never made out of stone, unless for architectural ornament, as in the case of the Qianlong Emperor’s Marble Boat in Beijing, China [3], or in the case of the Stone Ship from Phantom Hourglass. There are a few examples of boats and ships made by South American cultures, from the totora-reed boats of the Moche (called caballitos de totora in Spanish) in coastal Peru to the reed boats of the Uru on Lake Titicaca between Bolivia and Peru. Farther north, in the Northwest United States, the Kwakiutl built phenomenal, intricate canoes embellished with animal motifs. And while you won’t find a one-to-one correspondence in ship design between the Rito and any of these cultures, the rough shape of the caballito is similar to that of the skyships, while the balsas of the Uru have animalistic figureheads and, occasionally, masts and sails. The animal patterning, specifically the feather motifs, may be a nod to northern Native American shipbuilding traditions. The skyships themselves are exquisite, with their varied stonework, patterning, and sails. They creak melancholically against the wind, and there is something distinctly beautiful whenever the shadow of one passes over you — the fleeting shade gives a sense of connection with the past Rito, contrasting the relative isolation of Link and Tulin in the present. I love this feeling. The figurehead at the prow, likely in homage to Vah Medoh (or, depending on the timeline, inspiration for Vah Medoh), has a broad eye — hollow, like the stone ring of a Maya ballcourt —, a curved beak, and stylized, angular feathers at its crown. For having been exposed to the elements for so long, the colors, especially in the textiles, have held up remarkably well. Aside from the birdlike prow, there are two stringcourses of layered stone feathers with alternating red and white paint, as well as an oar design similar to an abstracted, tapered feather.
Above: Moche ceramic of a caballito de totora. Image Credit: Laslovarga, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>
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Above: Kwakiutl in canoes, c. 1914. Edward S. Curtis—Edward S. Curtis Collection/Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Encyclopædia Britannica
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Above: Two-oared skyship, with attention to the sail. Below: Three-oared skyship, with attention to feather and fletching motifs.
As the two scale higher, the boats grow in size, and the architecture becomes more monumental, the motifs showing more and more signs of Rito influence. In the architecture, we see few curved lines; aside from some rings surrounding small ponds and some massive columns of stone, everything is highly rectilinear, though not harshly so. The structures take a blocky, solid form that feels very earthy — something that stands in stark contrast to the airy and open architecture of the Rito below. Indeed, the two architectural styles could not be more dissimilar in material or form. The one area where there is some overlap is in ornament, especially in the patterns and motifs. As has been mentioned about Rito design: “A few things become immediately obvious across all Rito textiles: lines are almost always rectilinear, symmetry is consistently valued, and geometric figures obtain.” [4] Most of the motifs are various takes on triangles and chevrons, some layered in rows of different colored paint, while others are triangles within triangles. At these lower levels, most of the paint is white, tan, red, or blue, though occasionally an emerald green can be spotted. And we see incontrovertible evidence of cultural continuity from the Rito’s ancient past: Panels and columns both feature an abstracted fletching pattern, as if taken from an arrow, and the three-feather motif, present in both Rito pottery and Rito gateways, embellishes the lintels of the ancient stone gateways of the Rising Island Chain. The question emerges: Why so many ceremonial gateways? If we are to take these gates at their appearance, they likely have a religious function, perhaps in recognition of the god’s return home or a sacred pilgrimage the Rito may have taken to the Ark as part of a rite or ceremony.
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Note the stacked chevrons on the pillars and walls, which represent fletching, and the three-feather design upon the lintel.
Alongside the Rito influence, we start to see evidence of the Zonai civilization. Flanking some of the three-feather gates are Zonai lamps on squat grey pedestals. Zonai Soldier Constructs are active, all these millennia on, and Zonai devices litter the ruins. Two Zonai shrines can be found in this island chain, and there are also Ascend channels meant to assist Zonai travelers; these elevators of sorts are highly ornate, and the podia atop them are clearly meant to “center” the traversal, much as a doorway frames a door. As we will see continually, Zonai technology and implements are rarely seamlessly integrated with indigenous vernacular architecture; the soft grey stone and Zonai green seen here are placed upon or beside ancient Rito architecture. Much of the time, Zonai construction does not seek to replace Rito architecture, or to exist within it; it can only be said to exist alongside other schools of architecture — independent, self-contained, and equal in presence. At times, as with the capitals atop the columns of the Ark itself, it does join with Rito architecture, though it cannot be said to blend with it.
Ceremonial gateways and flanking pillars become more numerous as Link and Tulin climb, and the skyships become larger, three-oared vessels. Here, the sails are a patchwork of four smaller textiles, which provide even greater lift to those approaching the Stormwind Ark. And, as we climb, the music changes. What was at first piano slowly swells with strings, growing, growing, and then fading with a chill, percussive note. The wind grows stronger in intensity. The experience heightens and mounts and soars and is almost too much. It cries out for release, for a sense of arrival. So as Link soars from the sail of the utmost skyship, drifting above a massive storm supercell, we finally see the Ark below, dropping quickly, exhaling, realizing that we had almost run out of breath.
Ceremonial gateways and flanking pillars become more numerous as Link and Tulin climb, and the skyships become larger, three-oared vessels. Here, the sails are a patchwork of four smaller textiles, which provide even greater lift to those approaching the Stormwind Ark. And, as we climb, the music changes. What was at first piano slowly swells with strings, growing, growing, and then fading with a chill, percussive note. The wind grows stronger in intensity. The experience heightens and mounts and soars and is almost too much. It cries out for release, for a sense of arrival. So as Link soars from the sail of the utmost skyship, drifting above a massive storm supercell, we finally see the Ark below, dropping quickly, exhaling, realizing that we had almost run out of breath.
As we alight upon the ship, we first hear a plaintive melody, half-remembered. Ah, the children’s song from the village — “leaving behind an ark.” Why an ark?
For many cultures, the ark is a symbol of divine salvation. At least in the West, the famous ark is that of Noah, who, following God’s command, built a massive ship to outlast a global flood brought about by God due to mankind’s sins. Noah follows in a long line of flood heroes, like the Mesopotamian Utnapishtim and Ziusudra, who both heeded the ark-building commands of the deities. Flood myths and salvation via arks are also to be found in Greek legend, as in the case of Deucalion, and in the Indian tradition, as with Manu. [5] In all these stories, while the reasons for the floods change, the escape from the raging waters through a divine (or divinely-inspired) ship remains the same. So, when looking to the Stormwind Ark, we see a direct tie to salvation; the god of the Rito story sent back the Ark to once again stir the winds to life, delivering the ancient Rito from a slow decay.
But this is not the only strain of mythology we should follow in understanding the Stormwind Ark. In Japanese Shinto cosmology, Torinoiwakusufune, also called Amenotorifune, was born to the creator gods Izanagi and Izanami during the making of Japan. A kami of ships, it also seems that this deity was, at times, a ship itself. This deity’s name gives further color to the Stormwind Ark; it references both birds (tori) and stone (iwa), and this ship transported the gods from heaven to the lands below. [6] And this is not the only stone ship from heaven to be found in Japanese mythology; there are a number of noted megaliths across Japan, like the Iwafune Shrine in Osaka. It is said that here, Nigihayahi no Mikoto descended upon a “heavenly rock boat.” At the shrine, the megalith itself is the object of worship. [7] So, as with the skyships and the Stormwind Ark itself, these mythical vessels serve to connect the gods with the lands below. The Stormwind Ark is safely within both of these traditions as transportation for deities and salvation for mortal races. This dual homage calls to mind a host of legendary connotations, such that, even before we land on the boat, we know we are participating in the unfolding of myth.
For many cultures, the ark is a symbol of divine salvation. At least in the West, the famous ark is that of Noah, who, following God’s command, built a massive ship to outlast a global flood brought about by God due to mankind’s sins. Noah follows in a long line of flood heroes, like the Mesopotamian Utnapishtim and Ziusudra, who both heeded the ark-building commands of the deities. Flood myths and salvation via arks are also to be found in Greek legend, as in the case of Deucalion, and in the Indian tradition, as with Manu. [5] In all these stories, while the reasons for the floods change, the escape from the raging waters through a divine (or divinely-inspired) ship remains the same. So, when looking to the Stormwind Ark, we see a direct tie to salvation; the god of the Rito story sent back the Ark to once again stir the winds to life, delivering the ancient Rito from a slow decay.
But this is not the only strain of mythology we should follow in understanding the Stormwind Ark. In Japanese Shinto cosmology, Torinoiwakusufune, also called Amenotorifune, was born to the creator gods Izanagi and Izanami during the making of Japan. A kami of ships, it also seems that this deity was, at times, a ship itself. This deity’s name gives further color to the Stormwind Ark; it references both birds (tori) and stone (iwa), and this ship transported the gods from heaven to the lands below. [6] And this is not the only stone ship from heaven to be found in Japanese mythology; there are a number of noted megaliths across Japan, like the Iwafune Shrine in Osaka. It is said that here, Nigihayahi no Mikoto descended upon a “heavenly rock boat.” At the shrine, the megalith itself is the object of worship. [7] So, as with the skyships and the Stormwind Ark itself, these mythical vessels serve to connect the gods with the lands below. The Stormwind Ark is safely within both of these traditions as transportation for deities and salvation for mortal races. This dual homage calls to mind a host of legendary connotations, such that, even before we land on the boat, we know we are participating in the unfolding of myth.
Though we don’t know exactly when, a secret stone eventually came to be housed on the Stormwind Ark. So while the Ark was not constructed to house the stone, it was later retrofitted to keep it and defend it. Thus, the ship has many protective measures, from turrets to locks to laser-tripwires. It is patrolled by millennia-old Zonai Soldier and Captain Constructs. In form, the Ark is akin to the skyships below, only on a much grander scale. It has two massive figureheads, outspread wings at the prow, eight immense oars, and a five-plumed tail. Comprising three decks, the ship also contains two raised structures resembling temples: one, a squat and ancient temple, and the other in the style of the Temple of Time on the Great Sky Island. Here we see the expanded presence of Zonai construction, from torches to decorative screens to the six turbine lock mechanisms. Again, it is hard to say what the precise architectural relationship between the Zonai and the four races is; Zonai construction makes no attempts to blend with the vernacular, but neither does it seem like it is trying to overtake it. It seems simply to exist alongside, which might say something interesting about the way these people interacted in the past. In the case of the Zonai temple aboard the Ark, it takes a prominent place, though it is bounded by blocky, yet fluid Rito stonework. Chasing the origins of this stonework is not a simple task. We might first assume, as with the textiles and ceramics of Rito Village, that it comes from South America. Yet, it does not appear to come from the rough-trimmed stones of El Paraíso or the irregular masonry of Caral in Peru, nor the adobe bricks of the Moche. Likewise, it does not seem to stem from the haunting stonework of Tiahuanaco in Bolivia with its precisely cut, though irregularly sized, blocks. Chan Chan, the largest city in pre-Columbian South America, gets closer in motif, though not in material, building also with adobe. Nor can we turn to the Inca, whose chief architectural features — trapezoidal entrances and inward-sloping external walls — are conspicuously missing from the Stormwind Ark. Though the material culture of the modern Rito shows many similarities to pre-Columbian cultures in South America, the game designers seemed to have looked elsewhere for their architectural ancestors. To find them, we must look to Mesoamerica.
It is hard to pinpoint where in Mesoamerica to begin, as the cultural continuity in that area, from the Olmecs to the Toltecs to the Maya, is so fluid and almost seamless. However, I want to call attention to a few things that might help to illuminate the cultural context of the ancient Rito. The Olmecs were “the first culture in Central America to produce a formal architectural vocabulary out of permanent material . . . .” [8] They believed that the sky was partially ruled by a bird entity, and the volcano featured heavily in their cosmology, where it was represented as a dragon whose mouth was the gateway to the underworld. [9] I’d first like to highlight a so-called “Pavement” from the Olmec site of La Venta in southeast Mexico; several mosaics, made of serpentine (the name of this stone alone does some Zelda cultural work for us), were uncovered there, like the one below. Here I merely want to call into view the angularity, the use of square and rectangular stone, as well as some of the geometric designs.
It is hard to pinpoint where in Mesoamerica to begin, as the cultural continuity in that area, from the Olmecs to the Toltecs to the Maya, is so fluid and almost seamless. However, I want to call attention to a few things that might help to illuminate the cultural context of the ancient Rito. The Olmecs were “the first culture in Central America to produce a formal architectural vocabulary out of permanent material . . . .” [8] They believed that the sky was partially ruled by a bird entity, and the volcano featured heavily in their cosmology, where it was represented as a dragon whose mouth was the gateway to the underworld. [9] I’d first like to highlight a so-called “Pavement” from the Olmec site of La Venta in southeast Mexico; several mosaics, made of serpentine (the name of this stone alone does some Zelda cultural work for us), were uncovered there, like the one below. Here I merely want to call into view the angularity, the use of square and rectangular stone, as well as some of the geometric designs.
An Olmec mosaic from La Venta, Mexico. Image Credit: Ruben Charles, (http://www.rubencharles.com), CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>
Next, I would like to show you Building K from the Zapotec site of Monte Albán in southern Mexico — a hugely important archaeological site, it is comprised of a number of buildings, plazas, funerary mounds, and a ball-court. For our purposes, notice the bands of ashlar masonry (even, regular, and blocky) and the overhanging projections which seem to brood over the building as they jut out. This architecture feels heavy, much like the architecture of the ancient Rito. Building upon these things in various ways, we next travel to the Veracruz city of El Tajín in eastern Mexico. This site is remarkable for many reasons, but the most stunning architectural feature is likely the Pyramid of the Niches, named for the 365 niches carved all around it, echoing the importance of the solar year. [10] While there are certainly niches in the architecture of the ancient Rito (usually where we find the emerald green paint, interestingly), I would like us to keep the heavy overhangs and fretwork along the staircase in mind.
Building K at Monte Albán. Image Credit: Alberto Talavera Ortiz, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>
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Pyramid of the Niches at El Tajín. Image Credit: Frank C. Müller, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>
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Another critical stop on our journey is in Teotihuacán, in the central Valley of Mexico, where we should pick up three important stylistic influences. The first is the famous feathered serpent undulating around each layer of the Temple of the Feathered Serpent. The second is the talud-tablero (slope-and-panel) motif, consisting of an outward sloping section (the talud) and the straight, vertical projection (the tablero), which was commonly used to frame a frieze (as in the case of the feathered serpent above). This profile first appeared here in Teotihuacán around 150 CE, but it can be found with regional variation almost everywhere in Mesoamerica. [11] This talud-tablero profile is something we will see in several modes in the Rising Island Chain and the Stormwind Ark. And last, something else closer to home: a relief of a mythological bird from the pillars of the Palacio de Quetzalpapálotl, first mentioned in my previous article on Dragon Roost Island, where a likeness of this bird can be seen on either side of Prince Komali’s room. [12] In this way, the ancient ancestors of the Rito from Tears of the Kingdom have some connection to the Rito of The Wind Waker. At least for me, having now written on this subject for a full decade (where does the time go?), this is very meaningful.
The Temple of the Feathered Serpent at Teotihuacán. Notice the undulating serpent. Image Credit: Arian Zwegers, Belgium, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>
The final stop on our cultural pilgrimage is another Zapotec site: Mitla. What to say about Mitla, except that its architecture is incredible? Its many buildings are absolutely, utterly, and impossibly coated in exquisite, meandering, eye-catching fretwork. Although the stair-step design of Mitla is more similar to the motifs of the modern Rito, we must note the serpentine meanders and layered triangles found prominent on several structures.
Notice not only the incredible fretwork (which also shows the staircase motif we discussed earlier) but the slant of the buildings upward and outward. That is critical. Image Credit: Mauriciosalinasmoreno, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>
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Left: Image Credit: Gengiskanhg, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>
Above: LBM1948, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0> |
We arrive from our circuitous Mesoamerican journey back at the Stormwind Ark. While the ancestors of the Rito may have had a hand in building this ship, we do not know to what degree Rito vernacular architecture played in the design. All we know is that the Rito contributed materials to the skyships, which were themselves assembled by the god, though likely with some influence from the appearance of the Rito, who have been formalized and abstracted into the architecture itself. The architecture can be characterized by a few unique features. First, nearly every surface is embellished in some way. Normally, this is done in blue, white, red, and green paint, taking the usual triangle or chevron patterns we first noticed in the Rising Island Chain. In the ship’s passageways, the ornamentation is taken to new heights, with a meander running the lower wall, a series of projecting stringcourses (again covered in layered triangles), chevrons (representing fletching) at different heights, and beautiful pilasters, from which spring almost multifoil arches, such as one might see in Islamic architecture from Iberia to India. The coloring, set off by a low orange light from the wall sconces, is gorgeous, evincing a sacred feeling. Second, everything exists in layers; from the interior walls to the exterior of the two temple structures on the main deck, this architecture builds on itself, and in unique ways. Before, we mentioned the talud-tablero from Teotihuacán, with its sloping, tabling profile. Indeed, here too we see its normal form at times in the Rising Island Chain, but we also see something fascinating: its opposite. In both of the temple structures, we see a talud that slopes outward as it ascends, which makes the Temple of Time’s architectural setting seem to almost explode out of the deck.
Above: Even in the Rising Island Chain, we see the beginnings of the talud-tablero profile.
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Above: Inside the hallways of the Stormwind Ark, we see high attention to detail in the fretwork, coloring, and archways.
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Below: Note the outward-sloping wall of this "temple," as at Mitla, as well as the number of avian designs and geometric patterns.
We also see more avian symbolism at play, whether it be in the fletching pattern above the wind-turbines, in the three-feather motif adorning the capitals of the inner pilasters, or in the avian face upon some of the lintels. The three-feather motif is also present on the smaller temple’s facade, where it forms overhanging eaves at the roofline. The most obvious homage to the Rito is the flanking pair of statues at the entrance to the Temple of Time structure; these immense statues, composed of brickwork and stone, have the same heads as those on the skyships, this time bowing slightly in reverence, perhaps to the god, and perhaps to the Sage. Their wings are folded behind their backs, and their angularity creates a feeling of monumental regality.
Overall, that is very much the feeling I get when exploring the Stormwind Ark: a reminder of my time at Angkor Wat or Chacchoben, though far removed from any jungle — a reminder of histories that stretch away into unattainable legend. I am reminded of vastness, of stillness, and of forgetfulness. I like to find a nice spot and gaze out upon the crewless, lifeless ships slowly wending their way through the heavens. When the sky is just the right shade of blue, it calls to mind the jetstream of planes from the afterlife in the movie Porco Rosso, a perennial favorite of mine. The image of these ships floating for countless years, circling, circling is both lovely and sad. As we stare out into the boundless sky, I wonder if this place will ever again be visited. Now that the storm has gone and the path upward has been reestablished, will the Rito take up the pilgrimage to visit a place so intimately tied to their people? Or, isolated by distance and time, will it remain as it is: salvific, beautiful, but utterly still? Will its stones weather more untold millennia? Will its oars one day cease to enliven the winds below? Up here, these questions are as momentary as the wind. Here, at the roof of the sky, we may have finally seen the bird of myth instead of simply grasping after its shadow.
Notes and Works Cited:
[1] “It's a song for children, mind you. Few adults still parrot it as if it were true. Still, every now and then, you get reports among the Rito of a flying ship. Combine that with the blizzard caused by this Upheaval, and it seems less far-fetched. Even if the Song of the Stormwind Ark is just a children's rhyme, I suspect that there is something lurking high in the sky. But the air is so turbulent now that no Rito can fly close enough to look into it. This is why I saw we need to make careful preparations to find the truth, but Tulin . . . He thinks we cling to that song out of cowardice.” — Teba, Tears of the Kingdom
[2] Bruggman, M., & Acatos, S. Pueblos: Prehistoric Indian Cultures of the Southwest. Facts on File, 1989, p. 216.
[3] Erected in the Summer Palace beginning in 1755. It was destroyed during the Second Opium War and rebuilt by the whimsical Empress Dowager Cixi in 1893.
[4] Hook, Talbot. “Rito Village and the Wild’s Frontier.” The Architecture of the Legend of Zelda. https://www.architectureofzelda.com/rito-village-and-the-wilds-frontier.html
[5] The Editors of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Flood Myth. Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc. https://www.britannica.com/topic/flood-myth
[6] Mizue, M. Torinoiwakusufune. Digital Museum of Kokugakuin University. https://d-museum.kokugakuin.ac.jp/eos/detail/?id=9140
[7] Iwafune Jinja. About Iwafune Shrine. Iwafune Shrine. https://www.iwafune-jinja.net/en
[8] Ching, F. D. K., Jarzombek, M. M., & Prakash, Vikramaditya. A Global History of Architecture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007, p. 84.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Cole, Emily. The Grammar of Architecture. Bulfinch Press, 2002, p. 76.
[11] Ibid., p. 77. See also: Ching, F. D. K. A Visual Dictionary of Architecture. Jon Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2012, p. 270.
[12] Hook, Talbot. “Dragon Roost Island.” The Architecture of the Legend of Zelda.
https://www.architectureofzelda.com/dragon-roost-island.html
[1] “It's a song for children, mind you. Few adults still parrot it as if it were true. Still, every now and then, you get reports among the Rito of a flying ship. Combine that with the blizzard caused by this Upheaval, and it seems less far-fetched. Even if the Song of the Stormwind Ark is just a children's rhyme, I suspect that there is something lurking high in the sky. But the air is so turbulent now that no Rito can fly close enough to look into it. This is why I saw we need to make careful preparations to find the truth, but Tulin . . . He thinks we cling to that song out of cowardice.” — Teba, Tears of the Kingdom
[2] Bruggman, M., & Acatos, S. Pueblos: Prehistoric Indian Cultures of the Southwest. Facts on File, 1989, p. 216.
[3] Erected in the Summer Palace beginning in 1755. It was destroyed during the Second Opium War and rebuilt by the whimsical Empress Dowager Cixi in 1893.
[4] Hook, Talbot. “Rito Village and the Wild’s Frontier.” The Architecture of the Legend of Zelda. https://www.architectureofzelda.com/rito-village-and-the-wilds-frontier.html
[5] The Editors of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Flood Myth. Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc. https://www.britannica.com/topic/flood-myth
[6] Mizue, M. Torinoiwakusufune. Digital Museum of Kokugakuin University. https://d-museum.kokugakuin.ac.jp/eos/detail/?id=9140
[7] Iwafune Jinja. About Iwafune Shrine. Iwafune Shrine. https://www.iwafune-jinja.net/en
[8] Ching, F. D. K., Jarzombek, M. M., & Prakash, Vikramaditya. A Global History of Architecture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007, p. 84.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Cole, Emily. The Grammar of Architecture. Bulfinch Press, 2002, p. 76.
[11] Ibid., p. 77. See also: Ching, F. D. K. A Visual Dictionary of Architecture. Jon Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2012, p. 270.
[12] Hook, Talbot. “Dragon Roost Island.” The Architecture of the Legend of Zelda.
https://www.architectureofzelda.com/dragon-roost-island.html