Night on the Desert Sands (a Tsub and Knog Production)

Sir Callad Bolge had just struck camp in the desert night, which was easier than travel by day in these sands. He raised his left hand to his hood, pulling it further up. A reflexive curse about moblins and his arm passed through him, though it never made its way out of his mouth. He looked around the dunes.

A rumor had brought him here. A far-fetched rumor at the best of times, but even then. It was said that a suicide squad had made camp somewhere, cut off from their home base. Likely ghost stories or somesuch.

A sandy wind hit him in the face, distracting his thoughts.

Wait, something was there...

Callad sniffed the air as the wind came at him again... Sweat? And something else, too. Unidentifiable. He drew his sword, setting his pack down behind him, biting back another moblin-related curse. He hid his shield and right arm under the folds of his cloak as stretched out his left arm, letting the blade reflect in the moonlight.

Bartholomew Gaites trudged though the sands, beginning to feel the effects of the heat on him. He’d have to rest soon. He walked this way on the rumor of a group of moblins or cultists or something being in the area, so he’d tried to walk all through the night, in the heatstroke ridden weather through the barren empty sights. No battle here to see… The sand was whispering deathless words to him. He knew he’d be stopping soon, so he scanned the distance for any good place to lay down shelter.

His eyes stopped as he saw a glimmer in the distance. Using his blade, he sent moonlight back at him, beginning to walk in that direction. After a few minutes he neared the figure, sword still in hand and on his shoulder. “Your business in the sands.” He asked demandingly, his eyes staying on the figure, ever ready to strike if he heard a word he did not like.

To have moonlight reflected at him was a surprise both welcome and somewhat unsettling. These were the land of Ganon for Nayru's sake. For all he knew it was some Mob bastard, or a Darknut.

As he came closer, Callad saw that it was a man, Hylian by the look, tall as a Gerudo King and about as broad, and he was missing his left arm. He carried a sword scarcely smaller than the Hylian knight himself.

Don't let your fucking guard down, Cal, he thought. Plenty of traitors serve that bastard pig. Gotta be sure of him first... "What business is that of yours, stranger?" he queried, calm as he could manage. "And who the hell are you, for that matter?" The cold of the desert night whipped at his hand, and he tightened his grip.

His shield's round edge poked out of his cloak.

Upon hearing a slight tone of defiance in this man’s voice, he brought his sword down to the ground, striking up plenty of sand. “I am the man who will cut your head from the rest of you if I deem you a servant of Ganon. Now answer. Who are you?” Barth didn’t put up with crap at all. And as he placed his sword back upon his shoulders, he slanted his body to be ready to throw an attack at any sign of provocation.

“And do not think of lying to me.” Barth had grown good at spotting liars, though the darkness made it difficult.

"Tough talk for someone who hasn't declared himself," Callad quipped angrily, the adrenaline rising in his body. He'd probably just undermined this part of the dune with that stupid little stunt. Then, he thought about what the freakishly tall person just said... "I serve no pigs if that's what you're asking. Even if they have tridents the size of siege towers," he responded. "I came here on a rumor of an isolated suicide squad."

A smell like pigs came at his nostrils, but it was far off, and he was far too concentrated on this giant, anyway. "Now unless you are that squad, get out of my way. I'm not in the mood to climb down the dune."

Bartholomew listened closely to the silhouette, his stare burning a hole in him I it were capable of such things. When he said that he served no pigs, the man loosened his stance, if only a little bit. The way he spoke seemed like on who was indeed being truthful. “I see. Then my name is Barth, and I oft patrol this area, looking for enemies to kill, be it Moblins, bokoblins, stalfos, anything.” It was the suicide squad that got him curious though. “You mentioned a suicide squad? What did you mean, and where was this?” He asked curiously, sword still atop his shoulder.

"Like I said, it was a rumor. I haven't a clue if it's true, which side they serve, or if it's a trap," the knight said, keeping his voice even. Flat. Monotone. "I heard it at a bar in a port town in the unconquered part of Hyrule. I--"

Whatever else he was going to say was lost when a cold wind hit him in the face again, bringing with it the absolutely most hated smell of the absolutely most abhorrent creatures on the face of Hyrule. Callad switched his sword to his right hand, reached into the small pouch on his left hip, withdrew a bomb, and threw it behind Barth. It went sailing for the next five seconds.

Callad began moving as soon as he let the bomb go. He returned his sword to his left hand and began to run, as fast as he could, at Barth. When he was within arm's reach, he slid under the freakishly-tall man's legs, pushed off his shield, and continued sprinting, his face twisted in the rage-filled snarl he wore only for those he could never forgive.

The bomb exploded, blowing apart one moblin, and throwing shrapnel into at least three more of the twelve left. Callad was upon them before they were over their shock, his blade at the ready. One of them roared and started to attack, whereupon it was smashed in the face by the knight's shield.

As it stumbled back, Sir Callad leaped into the air, grabbed his sword in two hands, and swung downward as he flipped over the creature.

Callad landed on one knee, the sword in his left hand dripping blood, as the second snout he killed fell over behind him, its head cloven in two. His hood had fallen off, revealing the hylian's beast-like expression of undying rage.

Barth felt his senses screaming at him, so he knew something was wrong. When Callad threw a bomb and had started dashing towards him, he initially gripped his sword hard and started to turn to swing, but when he realized his senses were from behind him, he pulled the sword horizontally, swinging in an arc, giving him momentum in his run after the man had slid between his legs. Now with a decent run for a charge, Barth lashed out horizontally, rage boiling the blood in his veins.

His massive blade hewed through torso of the Moblin, the swordsman using his shoulder to provide more leverage for stronger cuts. As he followed through with the cut, he spun his body to block an enemy spear, chopping the tip off at the wooden haft before headbutting the moblin in the face, using a short jump forward, embedding his blade into the pig's head, going down a bit into the body. Sliding the sword out the front as his enemy fell, he saw that the man from before actually knew what he was doing. "You seem to actually be competent." He called over to Callad. "I'm pleasantly surprised."

The knight didn't hear the words of praise. He merely continued roaring, lost in his anger, cutting apart a third moblin. He held his sword back, letting all of his energy into it, and screamed as he released it in a spin attack. It may not have killed any, but it wounded some and certainly there was an aura of fear surrounding this dread Hylian.

He began to walk slowly towards the snouts, his sword held point down, the blood dripping off its tip. His breath was audible as a sort of gutteral growl in his throat. They inched backwards, the tips of their spears pointed at him.

He charged, roaring again. Spears were thrust at him. He jumped over them, coming in close and eviscerating the bastard in front of him.

The others backed away in fear.

And they backed away directly into Barth, who was charging up a spin attack. He started spinning, cleaving through two moblins in front of him with a massive roar of anger. He also cut into the side of a third one, making it stagger. The giant used this opportunity to kick the enemy down. And with a step on its throat, he raised Reverend over his head, stating to yell. The moblin tried in vain to move Barth’s foot, but four or so seconds later, the blade struck down, creating a massive explosion that burned the very flesh from the pig.

There were very few left, so it was possible that this man had taken them out. At the very least this helped him relieve stress and he got to kill the servants of Ganon.

Five left. The three wounded from his first bomb had been killed already, and the remnants were fucking terrified. He stalked toward them, his growling breath grating through his throat. He dropped his shield, intending to only use his blade for all of them. He lunged for one, and it squealed as it threw up its spear to guard. The one behind it stabbed toward the knight, hoping to confuse him.

Callad somersaulted through its legs, then turned and stabbed the creature through its heart. He ripped his sword out through the snout's side just in time to block a spear swipe at his head.

They seemed to finally be pulling their shit together. Attack in a group, and it has to defend.

Callad put his sword in his right hand and pulled another bomb from the bag, throwing it into one of their mouths, hard enough to get it stuck. It screamed its piggish cry of panic, and Callad leaped clear before it exploded. He pulled another, let fly, and a third. The last one he ran to his target, shoved it into its gut, and ran. The moblin, out of reflex, grabbed its stomach and pulled up the roundish thing as its fuse burned to the end.

BOOM!

Only one remained, and unlike its fellows, decided to try to flee.

Barth saw the man begin bombing the moblins rather effectively until only one remained. It turned and started trying to run away, but Barth sprinted, heaving his arm back and then with all his strength, he lobbed Reverend through the air, the blade landing in the moblin, pinning it to the ground. When Barth had made it to his sword and the body, he pulled the blade out, noting that the moblin had bled out.

Now with a decent opportunity, Barth looked at the man from before. “Well… it seems as though you’ve proven your side.” The giant said, beginning to wipe off his zanbato.

"All the torment in the world is not enough for those of their kind. All the torture that Ganon puts us through should be put to their whole race," Callad said, retrieving his shield. He walked towards Barth, wiping his blade off on his black cloak. His face was scowling. "I owe those creatures extinction."

He lifted his now shield-covered right arm. It wouldn't pass his shoulder's height. "I was born in the Castle Town. I enlisted in the Legions at an early age. I rose to the rank of Colonel before a moblin spear crippled my arm. I've been reduced in rank to Scout. I can never rise in rank again. There is no such thing as a left-handed shield wall.

"I reserve a special hatred for these... creatures."

Barth chuckled when he heard the man’s story. His arm had been crippled, and he’d never recover from it fully. Beginning the long process of cleaning his own sword, Barth sat down on a moblin’s chest, pulling out a large rag and started wiping away with his sword in his lap.

“Interesting. My story isn’t too far off. I’m from the eastern caves, and when my and my comrades launched an offensive on those who’d taken our homes, we were slaughtered. I too, had my arm crippled by a moblin’s spear.” He then looked at where his left arm should be. “It is needless to say… I won’t recover from it. Still, a pleasure to meet someone as dedicated to their cause as I.”

The knight was quiet for a long while. "Well, I think you're more impressive. I still have both arms. You don't," he replied, after a while. He thought for a while more, and then changed the subject.

"Hmm," he stated, "That suicide squad rumor... either that was them and they worked for Ganon, or I haven't found them yet."

Sir Bolge held out his hand, as though to shake the berserker's. "Barth, wasn't it? I am Sir Callad. Would you care to help in this search of mine?"

Barth listened to the now declared Callad intently. A suicide squad huh? "If there's a suicide squad, we'd join them to assist in the fun." He stabbed Reverend down, shaking Callad's hand with his. He then saw something strange about the moblin he was sitting on. A shining at his wrist led Barth to lean down and inspect it. There, he found that the moblin had been wearing a power bracelet. Smart bastard...

He slid thing thing off the Moblin's arm and put it on his own. "It's good he never got the opportunity to use this. Though it is good that I get to on it's kin." He smirked, picking up his massive blade, now with ease. "So I will join you, soldier. Where did these rumors tell you to go?"

"Nowhere particular, just somewhere out in the desert," Callad replied, reaching up with his right hand to stroke his goatee. The chill air rushed passed him, sending his cloak billowing around his frame. "Come on. We won't get anywhere if we just stand around here."

Callad retrieved his pack from where he'd left it on top of the dune. He started walking in the direction he was going before the encounter.

Barth nodded. He didn't like the vagueness of what Callad had said, but he didn't have anything really planned anyway. He placed Reverend on his back, stepping through the sand. Barth had never been to northern Hyrule, though he knew it was far. 

"So, you're quite a ways away from home. You came all this way for a mere rumor?" He asked, wondering if there was more to this man.

"Yes. Anyone who can help contain Ganon's forces is a good enough reason to go anywhere on the slim chance that I can help them out."

The wind was getting more erratic. A gust blew in from his side, and another hit him from the front. He raised his eyebrow at this, but dismissed it as a different climate. He wasn't at all used to the desert, just enough to survive by following instructions. He halted a while, listening.

The soft wailing of the wind... the fall of sand on sand... His own breathing... Barth's breathing...

There was a muffled clunk, somewhere off in the distance... Perhaps something hitting wood.

"This way," Callad directed, moving toward the noise, keeping his left hand on his sheathed sword's hilt.

When Callad stopped, it gave Barth a chance to think about what he'd said. Going this far on a mere rumor was crazy... If Barth tried to cross death mountain because he heard there may have been a mere chance of people to help, he'd get his head checked. 

Nevertheless, he followed Callad once he set off again, this time surveying the desert sands. There would be some creature soon the two could devour... Usually the night was prime time for animals to come out of hiding. "Sir Callad, be watchful of animals. They are our best bet to having a meal here."