Ganondork
goo
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2010
Hey guys, Ganondork here. I've decided to start this story a bit earlier than planned. Amnesia will continue, but this is a much higher priority than Amnesia. It's rated PG-13 for my usual things; violence, sexual themes, occasional language, etc. Anyway, I hope you enjoy The Majora's Mask Salesman.
All was quiet in the town. Not a sound was present, save the clock tower’s faint clicks as it ticked the night away. The residents all were in their houses, not a child was awake. It was as if a tragedy had not befallen them those mere hours before. Only the weariest of people still allowed the images of a great moon nearly crashing into their peaceful town to stay inside their heads. And these poor souls could not help but let out a shudder of fright. Had it not been for the young boy, they would all be dead.
A light darkness loomed over this peaceful city. Small lamps lit up the darkest corners of the town but failed to illuminate the town completely. For once, any form of criminal was also tucked into their beds, trying to sleep away that awful night. And yet, no matter how peaceful the town was, the outskirts were not quite as tranquil.
A powerful man stood upon higher ground. Before him stood a vile army of corrupted men; soldiers, townsfolk, hermits even the occasional Gerudo, Zora or Goron. The man himself was a Gerudo, but his following members were few in these parts. With his orange hair, his hair lit up the night, creating an eerie glow to compliment his army of rebels. “Men, we have waited for this first invasion too little too long. It is time we attack.”
“Sir,” a soldier began, “What do you mean ‘too long?’ We have planned this assault for four days.”
“Do not question me,” the Gerudo growled, “I know best.” He lifted the corrupted man by the throat and tightened his grip. As the soldier pawed at the brute’s hands, the rest of the army watched with indifferent faces.
“Sir… Spare me… Please…” The soldier begged. With a final jerk of the Gerudo’s hand, the soldier’s neck snapped, and his limp body was released. The entire army simultaneously took a step back to avoid touching the corpse, for they had all lost respect for this once noble officer. A single soldier spat at the body, cursing ever trying to emulate the man and his actions.
“Allow this to be a warning to all of you,” the Gerudo shouted, “Never question me, for I know best.” He paused, to add emphasis as his army stared down at what was once an officer of the army. “Now men, charge the gates, take no prisoners, let none live. Kill every man, woman or child and burn their houses to the ground. I will make sure that we lay siege to Clock Town and claim it in the glorious name of Ganondorf!”
Cheers reverberated throughout the field, nearly disrupting the peace of the town. Swords raised high, they charged for the town.
A young boy silently walked across a green field. He hummed a tune as he continued forth. The world seemed irrelevant around him as he walked, as if the world held its breath as he walked forward, taking in each step, breath, and note. For once in a very long time, he was alone. All he had was his sword, shield and ocarina.
The boy paused for a moment, listening. He felt a gentle rumbling underneath his acutely sensitive feet. He looked about him, forward, backward, side to side, but nothing seemed irregular. A small drop of sweat escaped his pores as he stood there in the humid night; he knew something was wrong. The rumbling grew more powerful, finally creating a sound.
Many figures emerged from a hill in front of the boy. His understanding grew as he realized they were hiding out of sight before, but were finally taking the offensive. A charge of Clock Town had begun.
Unsheathing his sword, the boy quickly began to defend the town he had worked so hard to save. Taking many steps back, he tried to get closer to the town; if he stayed where he had been before, they could go around him and take the town.
The first man, a regular soldier, ran to the boy, his lance raised. With a sweep of his foot, the boy knocked the soldier to the ground. The soldier was finished with a kick in the head. The next approached, a Goron with a larger than average body size. The boy pounced on the Goron, knocking him over. He went to the laborious work of hacking at his body. Sparks flew as rock met with steel. With a sickening crack, the sword broke through, leaving the Goron unconscious.
Enemies came in larger numbers then, trying to overpower the boy. The crowd was indistinguishable from soldier to Goron to Zora to Gerudo; there were just too many. The enemy in front of the boy sent his spear forward. Sidestepping and grabbing the spear, the boy shoved it in the same direction, stabbing an oncoming enemy behind him. Knocking away the spear, the boy sent his blade through the first enemy’s stomach. He twisted the blade and then drew the sword out quickly. To his right, the next enemy came running with a knife. Raising his shield, he blocked the knife. He grabbed his adversary’s knife hand and sent his own knife flying back into his body.
Sheathing his sword, the boy grabbed the knife and continued. With a small leap, he thrust the knife downward, cutting an enemy soldier down the middle. He backed up, blocking the blood from his face from spraying out. He grabbed a Zora’s shoulder and took a leap forward. As he flew past the Zora, he grabbed it by the other shoulder, stabbed it in the head, landed, and then threw the corpse forward.
He ducked underneath a hermit’s blade and then shoved him back. He jumped onto the man and sent his knife into the hermit’s throat. He turned to his right and stabbed the next soldier once, twice, three times in the gut. With a small push, the soldier fell to the ground.
The army took a step back, finally intimidated by the boy and his skill. One soldier took a step to his left, and the soldier next to him took a step to his right, and a man took a step forward.
With his massive height, he loomed over the boy. His orange hair contrasted his dark armor-like clothes. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Link,” he said to the boy, “Quite a show you put on there. I didn’t know you were this powerful.”
Link didn’t say a word. Instead, he stared at what was once the Gerudo’s face. Instead of his usual face, he wore a mask. A mask Link was well acquainted with. Its purple and red color, demented eyes and spikes protruding from the sides left Link with memories flooding through him. Ganondorf was wearing Majora’s Mask.
“And now Link,” he continued, “It is time for you to die.” He took a menacing step towards Link. With his sword and shield raised, the hero prepared for a long battle. With the next step, Link stumbled back. With Ganondorf’s third step, Link’s shield broke. With a fourth step, a crack formed in Link’s sword. With his fifth step, Link’s sword shattered into hundreds of pieces. With his final step, Ganondorf loomed over the now defenseless Link. Link took a step back and fell to the ground.
Ganondorf looked down at Link, all emotions lost in Majora’s Mask. Link stared into the mask’s harsh eyes and began to feel dizzy. His eyes could not stray from the cursed Mask’s powerful eyes. Feeling light-headed, Link grasped his temples. As he finally began to lose consciousness, he heard a voice behind him. It sent chills down his spine, and he could not suppress a shiver. The words uttered out of the voice’s mouth sent fear coursing through Link’s veins, and he prayed that it was all a dream.
“You have met a terrible fate, haven’t you?”
***
All was quiet in the town. Not a sound was present, save the clock tower’s faint clicks as it ticked the night away. The residents all were in their houses, not a child was awake. It was as if a tragedy had not befallen them those mere hours before. Only the weariest of people still allowed the images of a great moon nearly crashing into their peaceful town to stay inside their heads. And these poor souls could not help but let out a shudder of fright. Had it not been for the young boy, they would all be dead.
A light darkness loomed over this peaceful city. Small lamps lit up the darkest corners of the town but failed to illuminate the town completely. For once, any form of criminal was also tucked into their beds, trying to sleep away that awful night. And yet, no matter how peaceful the town was, the outskirts were not quite as tranquil.
A powerful man stood upon higher ground. Before him stood a vile army of corrupted men; soldiers, townsfolk, hermits even the occasional Gerudo, Zora or Goron. The man himself was a Gerudo, but his following members were few in these parts. With his orange hair, his hair lit up the night, creating an eerie glow to compliment his army of rebels. “Men, we have waited for this first invasion too little too long. It is time we attack.”
“Sir,” a soldier began, “What do you mean ‘too long?’ We have planned this assault for four days.”
“Do not question me,” the Gerudo growled, “I know best.” He lifted the corrupted man by the throat and tightened his grip. As the soldier pawed at the brute’s hands, the rest of the army watched with indifferent faces.
“Sir… Spare me… Please…” The soldier begged. With a final jerk of the Gerudo’s hand, the soldier’s neck snapped, and his limp body was released. The entire army simultaneously took a step back to avoid touching the corpse, for they had all lost respect for this once noble officer. A single soldier spat at the body, cursing ever trying to emulate the man and his actions.
“Allow this to be a warning to all of you,” the Gerudo shouted, “Never question me, for I know best.” He paused, to add emphasis as his army stared down at what was once an officer of the army. “Now men, charge the gates, take no prisoners, let none live. Kill every man, woman or child and burn their houses to the ground. I will make sure that we lay siege to Clock Town and claim it in the glorious name of Ganondorf!”
Cheers reverberated throughout the field, nearly disrupting the peace of the town. Swords raised high, they charged for the town.
***
A young boy silently walked across a green field. He hummed a tune as he continued forth. The world seemed irrelevant around him as he walked, as if the world held its breath as he walked forward, taking in each step, breath, and note. For once in a very long time, he was alone. All he had was his sword, shield and ocarina.
The boy paused for a moment, listening. He felt a gentle rumbling underneath his acutely sensitive feet. He looked about him, forward, backward, side to side, but nothing seemed irregular. A small drop of sweat escaped his pores as he stood there in the humid night; he knew something was wrong. The rumbling grew more powerful, finally creating a sound.
Many figures emerged from a hill in front of the boy. His understanding grew as he realized they were hiding out of sight before, but were finally taking the offensive. A charge of Clock Town had begun.
Unsheathing his sword, the boy quickly began to defend the town he had worked so hard to save. Taking many steps back, he tried to get closer to the town; if he stayed where he had been before, they could go around him and take the town.
The first man, a regular soldier, ran to the boy, his lance raised. With a sweep of his foot, the boy knocked the soldier to the ground. The soldier was finished with a kick in the head. The next approached, a Goron with a larger than average body size. The boy pounced on the Goron, knocking him over. He went to the laborious work of hacking at his body. Sparks flew as rock met with steel. With a sickening crack, the sword broke through, leaving the Goron unconscious.
Enemies came in larger numbers then, trying to overpower the boy. The crowd was indistinguishable from soldier to Goron to Zora to Gerudo; there were just too many. The enemy in front of the boy sent his spear forward. Sidestepping and grabbing the spear, the boy shoved it in the same direction, stabbing an oncoming enemy behind him. Knocking away the spear, the boy sent his blade through the first enemy’s stomach. He twisted the blade and then drew the sword out quickly. To his right, the next enemy came running with a knife. Raising his shield, he blocked the knife. He grabbed his adversary’s knife hand and sent his own knife flying back into his body.
Sheathing his sword, the boy grabbed the knife and continued. With a small leap, he thrust the knife downward, cutting an enemy soldier down the middle. He backed up, blocking the blood from his face from spraying out. He grabbed a Zora’s shoulder and took a leap forward. As he flew past the Zora, he grabbed it by the other shoulder, stabbed it in the head, landed, and then threw the corpse forward.
He ducked underneath a hermit’s blade and then shoved him back. He jumped onto the man and sent his knife into the hermit’s throat. He turned to his right and stabbed the next soldier once, twice, three times in the gut. With a small push, the soldier fell to the ground.
The army took a step back, finally intimidated by the boy and his skill. One soldier took a step to his left, and the soldier next to him took a step to his right, and a man took a step forward.
With his massive height, he loomed over the boy. His orange hair contrasted his dark armor-like clothes. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Link,” he said to the boy, “Quite a show you put on there. I didn’t know you were this powerful.”
Link didn’t say a word. Instead, he stared at what was once the Gerudo’s face. Instead of his usual face, he wore a mask. A mask Link was well acquainted with. Its purple and red color, demented eyes and spikes protruding from the sides left Link with memories flooding through him. Ganondorf was wearing Majora’s Mask.
“And now Link,” he continued, “It is time for you to die.” He took a menacing step towards Link. With his sword and shield raised, the hero prepared for a long battle. With the next step, Link stumbled back. With Ganondorf’s third step, Link’s shield broke. With a fourth step, a crack formed in Link’s sword. With his fifth step, Link’s sword shattered into hundreds of pieces. With his final step, Ganondorf loomed over the now defenseless Link. Link took a step back and fell to the ground.
Ganondorf looked down at Link, all emotions lost in Majora’s Mask. Link stared into the mask’s harsh eyes and began to feel dizzy. His eyes could not stray from the cursed Mask’s powerful eyes. Feeling light-headed, Link grasped his temples. As he finally began to lose consciousness, he heard a voice behind him. It sent chills down his spine, and he could not suppress a shiver. The words uttered out of the voice’s mouth sent fear coursing through Link’s veins, and he prayed that it was all a dream.
“You have met a terrible fate, haven’t you?”
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