Sir Callad [Knight_of_G] Sayomi [Razgriz] Griskin [Beefish] ________________________________________ The rock-eaters from Death Mountain were an interesting discovery for a Moblin. Impenetrable as stone, yet friendly; warm. Perhaps with more jagged edges, and a mouthful of fangs, the Gorons would have seen a different history. There was a reflection of his kind in them. He wondered if one day, monsters like himself would be treated more like that granite-skin race. Griskin cradled Grudd under a tanned tent-sheet. Stars loomed ahead of him, rotating with invisible patterns in the cool night air. Flame staggered before him in the crisp breezes which went by here and there. He swallowed a rising reverberation in his throat. He was nervous. Grudd shifted in his arms, asleep in the wake of the fire's flickering warmth. Griskin's arm flesh was going dead across the surface. He kept thinking he should go to sleep, he knew that he'd regret a late night. But even if he resettled his frame a hundred times, there was no way he could sleep. So he sat cross-legged, Octorok sprawled across his limbs, and blinked as the flame started to dry out his eyes. Tomorrow, he was going to greet the Gorons. _____________________________________ The moon rolled over, and Griskin was awakened by a sharp jolt. His vision lost its blur as he held his forehead. Grudd stared at him with an inner fierceness, blazing with impatience. "Ah Grudd." He sighed and felt around beside him on the tent floor. "Do we hafta go now?" The sun was just peeking over the sleepy southern hills. Bird chatter murmured in the distance. With another sigh, followed by a sharp inhale, Griskin climbed his height. Grudd's eyes followed with persistent hunger. Beyond the small dirt clearing, the grass was wild and long; the Moblin found himself clambering across it whilst nettles threatened his exposed legs. "This way, pal!" With a little stumbling and wide steps, Griskin headed on towards the little Goron town. Grudd snorted, before shooting after him.
Callad woke up to the grey skies that heralded the dawn of day. He broke camp quickly, gathering his things into a satchel and continuing down the road. His boots crunched gravel and the occasional hardy bramble that grew on or near the path. A village of Gorons lay ahead, and while he didn't share their appetite or stomach for rocks, their hospitality was always a warm breeze in the drizzle of his life. His tattered cape fluttered and billowed as he walked. He kept his hood down, his pointed ears visible. He was within sight of the village soon after, just as dawn broke. Callad yawned, glad of the chance to sleep in an actual bed for tonight.
Say had to admit that patrols were the worst part of her job, usually just trekking across forests or deserts or mountains for weeks at a time; so when the map revealed a Goron town just a few hours away, she shared her companion's excitement. She stuffed the tent into her pack rather than fold it and otherwise just gathered everything she had on her. The remainder of the hike was thankfully uneventful, marked only by the snapping of twigs and shifting of stones under boot until at last they crested a rocky over-looking a valley. Lush green covered the bottom and a calm river wound its way back and forth like a snake through the center. But by far the most welcome sight was the red roofs and deep brown of the palisade walls making up their designated stop. "Do you think they'll have have anything but stones to eat? I'm in the mood for something light."
Hanging between the gaping maw of a valley was their destination. The Gorons' distinct stone houses lay spotted up and down the base betwixt the giant, looming crags, like a natural wall acting as a ward for the village. All manner of field plants were overgrown along the trail to the settlement: hawk grass, milkweed, ragwort, and of course, more nettles. They seemed to climb up into a layer of green which covered the valley from top to bottom. From his distance, Griskin couldn't make out much of the village other than the crimson rooftops which stuck out among the earthier colours. He followed Grudd across the overgrowth, wading through tall grass, ignoring the bites of thorny weeds as he went, until eventually the rugged palisade of the village stood over them. The Moblin shifted his feet, gripping his spear instinctively. He'd never so boldly approached a place like that before. Not without a raggedy grey cloak, and the cover of nightfall. To pass time whilst he chewed on the edge of courage, his eyes studied the cylindrical formations across the palisade. Were they stone, or wood? He couldn't quite tell. Grudd tossed a rock against its master's thigh, and Griskin shot him back with a frown. "I know," he struck the earth with the point of his spear, "I'm just wastin' time now." Griskin began to think that maybe he hadn't thought his plan through. Why in the world would the Gorons even think about letting him in? It was surprising enough that he hadn't already been spotted lingering outside the walls. Perhaps they were all asleep. Or hiding. Or, what was that noise? His strong point was not in his ears, but in his nose. Still, there was a distinct sound across the valley, muffled shouting. Was that normal? Probably. Villages were busy, that he did know. What might have been less normal was the smell of blood. Griskin's snout pinched and he snorted a blast like agitation. The smell of blood. With a motion to his companion, and the brute strength in his arms, the pair started heaving against the gates of the village. With a little restraint, the gates scraped against the gritted, gravely floor, leaving a track behind as they went. He pulled his spear and pummeled forward into the open air, shocked to find no rock-eaters to greet him. But something was going on ahead. A crowd of Gorons, pushing and hurling, brawling against something. He squinted and jogged forward. It wasn't a something, it looked like a lot of things. A lot of large, green, angry, violent, things. Without a second thought, the Moblin and the Octorok sprinted forwards, like meager reinforcements. Griskin didn't think for a second that he might have looked just like a friend of the maddened monsters.
In the Goron Village, Callad was surprised that even as dawn broke, there was no one awakening to the new day. Something was wrong. His ears twitched. The sounds they picked up told him that there were plenty of people already up, and they were fighting for their lives. Against what, he couldn't tell by sound. The smell of blood was in the air, so he knew even the Gorons were having trouble. But he could help. He drew his sword and sprinted through the village until he found the great knot of fighting. It was an army of dodongos that was attacking the Gorons. Callad made a split-second decision to help them before suddenly, he heard charging footsteps. He turned, and it was a moblin and a blue octorok. Recognition and disbelief hit him like a thunderclap. An image of Keera flashed through his mind. He knew those two. Griskin and Grudd. Their eyes were locked on the Gorons, and though Callad still disliked the moblin, was still irritated at the moblin, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe they were after the dodongos, too. "Hey! Griskin!" the Hylian called out. He met the moblins eyes for a moment. "Attack from the side. Otherwise they'll think you're with the dodongos and attack you, too!" Though motivated with care, he knew the words he'd spoken weren't unprejudiced. Still, after so many years of war with the moblins under Ganon, friendly relations with moblins weren't likely to spring up overnight. The knight shut out all thought as he charged at the knot of fighting, howling, and the screams of the Goron wounded. He bounded over the first line of the Gorons. He landed in the midst of the horde of green scaled beasts, and he remembered his training; Spin attack knocked the beasts away from him, and in a couple cases right into the fists of the gorons in the front line. Callad found a small one, just the head and tail grown, and skewered the beast on his sword, raised it up, and threw it deeper into the herd. Callad raised his right arm and a shimmering shield sprang into existence. The claws of a dodongo scraped across the surface. How many of these things are there?
Sayomi woke to the sound of steel and stone; such sounds no longer startled her, her career saw to that, but the fact such sounds were in town and started while she slept did. Without any time to prepare or plan, or even don her armor, the knight grabbed her sword and shield and lunged out the door. The battle was just outside, with a crowd of Gorons swinging tools, farming implements and clubs haphazardly against the horde of Dodongos. How did so many wild animals attack a town? How did they go unnoticed? Why would they take such a risk? Without time to search for answers, and without the time (or common sense) to descend the stairs, she leapt from the window, flipping and aiming for a particularly large Dodongo in the middle of the fray. With a flip and hint of embarrassment, she slammed down toward it, splitting it's skull. The lizards wouldn't take the attack lying down, and before her sword past through the first, a half-dozen Dodongos charged her, biting and clawing at what they could get. Say managed to jam her shield in the mouth of one particularly aggressive specimen and carry the strike to closed maw of another. The timed-yet-wild swings behind her forced the others to retreat a distance, snapping at the air in anger. As Sayomi braced herself to pull the shield free, her foot lifted to change position and for a moment an opening was made: a small one, barely half the size of the others and faster for it, charged her, biting her unarmored calf. She screeched in pain while the hilt of her sword flew toward the attacker, striking just beside its eye and cracking the face-plate; a moment later, the tip of her sword found the new chink in the armor and the attacker died before hitting the ground. She knew she couldn't stand to fight so many creatures and needed to get out. She pivoted toward the Gorons as she swung her sword behind her and blocked the front with her shield, channeling her magic toward the out-stretched sword behind her. For a moment, she held the position, and the pack mentality of the Dodongos took over, jumping toward the guard in an attempt to bury her underneath them. She released the pent-up power just as the first claw broke skin, spinning her blade all around her, cutting the soft underside of the attackers as she moved toward the Gorons. Finishing the technique in a low crouch with her shield protecting her from the enemies at her front, the lizards seemed a little more hesitant to charge a line of Gorons than a lone knight. Now in relative safety, Sayomi finally had a chance to look around, the two guards seemed to be the only Hylians in the crowd, but another pair of non-Gorons caught her eye, a Moblin and an Octorok... fighting for the Gorons! Here Say was, wearing only a bathrobe, fighting an innumerable mass of Dodongos beside her much better dressed comrade, a town of untrained Gorons armed only with improvised weapons, and an spear-wielding-Moblin-Octorok pair. Even for Sayomi, this was strange.
The sound of his own name almost became a trip-hazard; his leg staggered on contact at the familiar voice. Still heading into battle, Griskin's eyes snapped onto the source of the voice. It was a man, whose scarred, black cloak followed him like a vengeful shadow. Callad. The coincidence of the knight's presence struck Griskin at first, but then, where else would such a defender be but at the fight? He decided not to be surprised. "Oh, right!" He stretched the gruff grunt into a yell, and watched his old adversary leap into the fray. His heart fell into his belly. Although the blood between himself and the knight had since staled into mere caution, the fact that the monster-hater was also lost in that sea of green, fiery violence put a seed of fear and mistrust in the Moblin's soul. Nevertheless, Callad was right. To the Gorons, Griskin and Grudd would appear to be just another couple of threats. So, as if to say don't worry, he charged in an arc away from the rock-eaters, and instead went directly for the side of the dodongos. The Gorons were fixated on the reptilian foes, and if a stray eye had seen the Moblin, they had shown no notice. Griskin had his vision fixed as well, his will was a pointed dagger towards a nearby dodongo. His spear was wedged firmly in green fists, knuckles white from anticipation as he confirmed his grip on the weapon. With a steady jump, he anchored himself to the ground, legs even apart as a firm base, then leapt forward. The beast immediately slapped his legs with three claws, but Griskin's spear had already sprung forward enough to strike - the blade-trap tip split the scales along the monster's chin and burst through the flesh. Now separated from his spear by the impact, Griskin fell to the ground. That first strike had already put his weapon firmly in the jaws of the enemy. It was stuck at the top of the dodongo's throat, pure blood leaked down like rage bubbling over. The scaled beast let out a strained roar, its nostrils flared as it displayed the blade-trap stuck in its mouth, the hole swollen by its tongue. Griskin clawed along the ground as he set himself on his feet again. The dodongo's breath chattered, and it sprang into a frenzy as suddenly as a coiled rope. The ground shuddered as it bounded towards the Moblin. Griskin let out his own frustration, and yelled, burning his lungs with battle-panic. Grudd scuttled alongside him, catching up after the hoofed man. It rattled with stones, made from hate, like evil pearls. Grudd stopped, perched like a ballista, it started to shoot the pent stones into the gaping mouth of the injured lizard. Weary from confusion and blood, the dodongo's legs curled and it rolled into the dust. Adrenaline refused to let a second fall between the rising earth - Griskin grabbed the pole of his spear, and with one quick, powerful tug he loosed it from the neck of the beast. The dodongo struggled - its legs kicked into the earth and spread the cloud into Griskin's eyes. The dirt stung and clodded his vision - but through the grey-brown mist, Griskin lunged into the soft underbelly of the reptile with red-soaked steel.
Callad stabbed the spear-like point of his weapon right below the jaw, before retreating and watching as the corpse exploded, damaging other nearby dodongos, making the fight a slight bit easier. He held his hard-light shield up as another of the beasts swiped at it, but it had more force than the knight thought, and the shield and arm were knocked aside, just as it was breathing in for a fire breath attack. Shit! he balked, knowing he couldn't retreat or reach his bomb bag in time. With no good options, he simply took it, shielding his face and ears with his sword arm. The breath didn't last long, but he still hurt afterwards. He kicked the beast in the eye to send it scuttling away before rushing it. Callad leaped into the air with a twist, swiping the blade at the dodongo's neck. The jarring shock up his arm confirmed to him that he'd struck true. He landed facing the Gorons and concentrated his energy into the blade, and spun, knocking yet more of the creatures back. Only now, he was deep within the swarm of creatures, and help was far away. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea...
Say knew the waves of carnivorous lizards would win this war of attrition: the three warriors would tire sooner rather than later, and none of the Gorons looked capable of taking their place. Even if they couldn't kill them all, there must be a way to distract or frighten the wild animals, an explosion or horn, or even just an amplified voice might rout them. Still, there were more pressing issues to tend to, her companion found himself surrounded from a poorly-thought out attack and the Moblin attacked alone at the flank, where he could surely be overwhelmed any moment. The knight herself was not in the best position either, having rushed into combat without the time to don her armor. 'One problem at a time.' she thought to herself, 'and the easiest one to solve is Callad's'. Using a burst of her fire breath to distract the closest one, Sayomi swung the edge of her shield into it's head, turning it away from her for a moment; and in that moment the point of her sword found it's eye, and the beast collapsed. Wasting no time she kicked the corpse toward her companion and lit the body on fire with a sustained gust of flame, hoping the resulting explosion would create an opening for Callad to retreat.
The outskirts of the monster pile rumbled against the floor, trampling stones and walls as if they were petty. The seething waves of dodongos were like one, great mouth, gnashing slowly against their simple foe. Griskin and Grudd were only on their second fight, and already the impossibility of defeating all of the lizards had become apparent. But adrenaline made the Moblin wisdom-blind. He flung his spear, gashing the second dodongo across the base of its tail, and wheeled around to face another. It took in a long, deliberate breath, and with certain death in its lungs spat hot flame towards the green-skinned man-beast. The fire tasted the edge of his skin before reflexes dragged his legs aside. Griskin choked on searing pain. He allowed a glance to his arm, a white boil was already forming over the rough pig-skin. That hurt. In less than battle-fury and more of desperation, Griskin began inhaling quickly, repeatedly, like he was taking in shots of power. Kicking up dust behind one hoof, he focussed through the fatal surges on his enemy. The dodongo licked burning lips, and bore teeth like sharpened diamonds - unbreakable and deadly. It seemed to anticipate the Moblin, it clung to the ground, claws digging into grass and stone, and opened its mouth. But he had already taken off. Griskin charged shoulder-first into the dodongo with a new source of power. Like a sentient boulder, he aimed his weight against the lizard, charged straight into the chin of the beast, its teeth sank in, but the rush of energy pushed his charge onward. Griskin rammed the dodongo into the crowd, flung the reptile onto its brethren, and it was lost amongst the scales. Drawing in vital breaths, he twisted his spear in one hand, warming his fingers. His gaze turned towards a splayed dodongo, dead on the ground. Blood oozed from a blade-wound in its eye, like post-mortem tears. His brow taught together at that sight. He hadn't struck that dodongo at all with his spear. Was it even the same monster? It was freshly alight, flame teemed at it like a pest. Flashing dimly white, like a warning, the dead reptile gave off a distinct, gunpowder smell. Unsure, quick eyes darted about, and captured at the apex of the moment he froze on a half-naked Hylian woman. Wait, what? A new confusion fizzled alongside the premonition of an explosion. The Moblin wondered if he had become dazed from his blitz attack. But his eyes did not betray him - that was definitely a Hylian lady, wrapped only in the bare decency of a dressing gown. Like some sort of casual sportslady, living in luxury, who took fights with monster hordes as a means to warm up before some kind of hobby-war with gentlemen and ladies as champions and generals. Needless to say, he didn't dwell on the thought for very long. His time to escape had ended. The dodongo swelled, white bleeding, whirling light into pressurized power. It exploded into nothing but ashes and dirt, which sped like shrapnel from the centre, leftover fire leapt out from the blast, toppling Griskin to the floor, leaving him envious of his previous burn.
Surprise radiated from the Hylian as he sensed the explosion behind him. He'd caught the paw of a Dodongo on the quillions of his sword, because his magical construct shield had shattered into a thousand pieces of light and vanished. As such, he couldn't really move, but he also heard something heavy hit the dirt. He turned the beast's claws aside, aligned his sword quickly, and thrust into the beast's neck. He leaped back and turned, seeing a rapidly closing path back to the frontlines, where he also noticed that Griskin had fallen. Callad heard the indrawn breath of a dodongo, and ran away just as flame breath blossomed out of its mouth. His cloak caught fire, so the knight gathered it in his right hand and ripped it off, showing the knight just how tattered it had become. He tossed the cloth to the beasts and took his stand near the downed Moblin and the barely clothed dame-knight. "Forget something, comrade?" the knight called over to his fellow knight, breathing hard. Sweat and blisters glistened on his skin, his hair was plastered to his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest as the adrenaline kept him alert. "Griskin, I know it hurts, but you need to get up. If you don't, you and your little friend will die here." A small Dodongo leaped into the air, aiming to bite Callad's ear. The knight responded by batting it to the ground using the pommel of his sword, crushing its neck under his boot, punting the little bastard into the throng of Dodongos, and prepping for the next one. "Goddesses, if you can hear me, send us some aid. We can't push these beasts back forever."
Say was relieved that Callad still had his wits about him after the explosion, but the situation had only degraded: Say couldn't breath fire forever; the burns on her companion would soon be swollen with blood and pus; and the Moblin fought bravely but far too wildly, he would be overrun within a minute unless something changed. She searched desperately for something to turn the tide in her favour, but the village was not built to resist such an assault. The search took her attention at a vital moment, and one of the larger Dodongos snapped its jaws forward giving the knight only enough time to raise her shield in a reflexive defense. The shield caught the strike, but teeth had caught the shield as well, and held it firmly. The knight swung and stabbed her sword into lizard, but her sword was on the wrong side of its body and each blow could only glance off the bone protrusions of its skull. A metallic whining coupled with a few sharp snaps gave the knight only enough warning to pull back her arm as the shield disappeared behind rows of razor teeth. Taking the moment of confusion to strike as the beast had done seconds earlier, Sayomi's sword ran through its eye and ended its life. A deep red glow from the core of its belly signaled what was to come and the definitive end of the shield. The counter had bought Sayomi only seconds in the brawl, and it seemed as though all hope was lost. Dodongos had begun to surge forward in the wake of their exploding brethren, pushing ever harder against the mob as others regained the ground they had lost to the explosions by the prone Griskin as they prepared to finish him off and take the flank. Indeed the clamour was so great that even the sound of galloping hooves was drowned out.
Griskin caught his forehead in his hands, skin seared, shards of stone bit into his flesh like mosquitoes. The blast left white noise in his ears, a long, loud screeching orbited his head. Snout smelling only raw iron, maybe weapons maybe blood, maybe both, he put a green arm ahead on the ground and used it like a crutch, rising from the earth. He spun as he set himself on two pig-hooves, the burn of light in his retinas was eaten back quickly, and he could see the battle again. Grudd scurried up onto the Moblin's back, and clung to him like travel baggage. The Dodongos numbers seemed insatiable. Where was his spear? Eyes went from point to point, from nearby lizard teeth, to dirt, to Hylians and blade-flurries. All around him, the images of Dodongos became ever clearer. He was surrounded, without a spear, with Grudd frightened, spitting rocks uselessly against scale armour. He looked down into his hands, open, bare, monster hands. He had other weapons. Outstretching a trembling arm, Griskin started recalling magic in his mind. He was by no means experienced in calling monsters, but the gift of his ChuChu friends was not a complicated summon. With concentration, his brow knotted against frowning lips. The air in front of him seemed to drip, with consistency like jelly, reality shifting to allow faraway passengers. The dripping became colour, erasing the weird bending of the air with real form. Red goo hung in the air, then splashed down in front of Griskin, a puddle of red too primary for blood. It was all over in seconds, Griskin clenched his chest with a hand. The puddle stirred, shuddered like something being prodded with a stick, then leapt up. Silly eyes, translucent ChuChu wobbled before the fellow monsters. Now they were a small unit of three, like a microcosm of Ganon's armies of old. There was no time to lose, teeth encompassed them all. "Quick, we need t'get out!" Moblin eyes searched for an exit, a smaller Dodongo leapt on his side, Griskin countered it with huge arms - threw it aside. The circle grew tighter as fangs threatened the monsters, desperate eyes turned to the jelly newcomer. "Help us!" ChuChu responded with the same empty smile its species were known for. But as the lizards dove into the little group, the slime jumped into the mouth of a Dodongo in front of them. Rubbery, cold flesh surprised the giant reptile, its teeth bit against the Chu, puzzling. Griskin ached at the sight of sacrifice, but used the distraction to weave under the Dodongo. Fire chased him. Grudd squealed. They ran towards an open space in the field, Griskin scanned along the ground for signs of hope, life, anything. There was something. A familiar polearm. Without giving a second thought, he tumbled alongside it, scooped it into two hands. He turned over his shoulder, jabbed the spear into the air. He almost gutted a horse. A horse? Lots of horses. Dozens in fact. Driven by men clad in thick armour, uniform in colour and pattern, the horses sharing the cloth. They charged in with a warcry, confused lizards hissed and peddled backwards. Still in a half-crouch, Griskin watched the enigmatic scene unfold. "Ye-owch!" A heavy clunk smacked his shoulder blade, and a soldier galloped past him, shouting into the sky, looking back at the Moblin. A bile of wrong and worry bubbled in Griskin's stomach.
Callad looked up as a chorus of battlecries rang out from the field, his ears perking towards the sound. Those weren't monster battlecries! And when the first horse showed up, lo and behold, a knight in shining armor held aloft a black-bladed spear. It was almost as if he were a man dying of thirst and these knights were pure, sweet water. He heard the orders the lead rider shouted. "To the Goron's defense! Sweep these scaly lizards against the mountain and crush them!" The scout raised his sword in salute before raising his shield to block the next blows from the dodongos. He flicked his glances in the direction of the knights again, and noticed that over their shining breastplates they wore black surcoats, with golden threading that depicted a spear pointing straight up. He raised his foot and caught the beast in the neck, leveraging his weight into throwing the dodongo upside-down. Before he could do anything else, a rider skewered the helpless beast. His eyes widened. The Order of the Sable Spear! He felt elated. They were saved! But something wasn't right. Some hidden piece of knowledge that he'd forgotten niggled at the back of his mind. He tried remembering, but for the life of him he couldn't. Something just told him that this wasn't quite the rescue party they'd been wanting. Just then, some of the warcries changed. He looked off in that direction and noticed Griskin, having recovered his spear. He looked... Well, not happy, at any rate. It was hard to read moblin expressions for him, having hated them for so long beforehand.
Sayomi turned her head just in time to see the glint of a rider's boot as he charged head-long into the gnashing mob. She didn't recognize the sigil on their armor, but from their tactics it was obvious they were veterans: The bulk of the force attacked head-on, while the flanks pulled away from their comrades before circling back to strike the dodongos’ side. Hopefully the encirclement would panic the monsters and cause a rout, but even if it didn’t, the strategy would surely thin the herd. This was by far the largest battle the girl had ever been in; the sounds of hoof and claw, the smell of blood and steel, and the sight of two armies crashing against each other like two great waves on the ocean nearly overwhelmed her, only the threat on her life kept her present, completely forgetting about the embarrassment her current accouterments should have caused. She barely had the presence of mind to continue fighting, jumping back then lunging forward to skewer a smaller one that slipped through the lines. For the first time since this all started, Sayomi though they could win this, and drive the dodongos back. She afforded herself a look around the battlefield to find her companion or the Moblin he seemed to know, and while the Gorons had pulled back away from the battle, the two were lost among the carnage.
He didn't have time to reflect on the tension which boiled up and down his arm. Horses stampeded against lizards, formations like links of chain against chaos. His breath was dust and earth, all that was in his nose was iron. He couldn't spare another moment to consider their rescuers on horseback; this was starting to look like an all-out war. Griskin reminded himself of power, lifting his spear as he flung himself forward, tentacled Grudd clung to his shoulder. The black-gold soldiers were already waist deep in danger, fighting with a hidden might which sated their passion, slashing through dodongoes like reapers amongst the wheat. The slaughter was immense and effective. Just as Griskin had thrust his spear into the belly of a reptile, two of the Sable Spear has casually displaced its tail and moved on to the next, slashing with deadly accuracy, biting right into the scale-armour of the beasts. It was becoming fast clear by colour and shape alone who the victors would be. In less than ten minutes the sudden appearance of the Order had left the foe in minority. But still the crazed creatures went on, ignorant of their impending defeat, desiring only to take more flesh before they died. The Moblin stood amongst the charred remains of exploded dodongoes, balancing his spear uselessly in two hands, watching as a distant clatter of knights picked off the last straggles of lizards. Little groups of soldiers were starting to band off, scouring the battle-damage for survivors - or perhaps more enemies. Into a clearing surrounded by half-wrecked Goron homes, he noticed a single knight, set on his horse, armour now speckled with sadistic red, obsidian-coloured spear pointing casually towards the open sky. The leader surveyed the damage with mild interest. Under that helmet, he might have given a glance to each of the strangers in the town.
