A Darkening Eventide [Open: Alyson, Claria, Gao, Raemi, Nex]

[LuckyBlackCat]

Everything spun sickeningly as the Lizalfos wrapped its tongue around Claria's arm, flinging her aside. Her fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her sword, which nearly slid from her grasp. Through the haze of dizziness, the horned shape sped closer, its crooked blade glinting in the meager light, poised to slice through the water at her.

Reacting on instinct, she shot out her fist, emitting one more laser. Not a particularly strong one, but it struck the already wounded creature point blank. As the last of her luminescence faded, she caught a glimpse of its sinking body dissipating into purple bubbles, before the surrounding ocean turned pitch black.

It was all she could do to keep her leaden limbs moving as she struggled to reorient herself and reach Raemi. The song and the vibrations alike seemed to emanate from a distance, barely registering through the fog clouding her mind, the pain wresting her attention away. By now it took immense effort just to flex the stiff, burning flaps of her gills, which kept clamping shut against damaged filaments in bursts of agony.

All she could pick up on was a massive upsurge of water before light pierced the surface. Instead of bringing relief, the renewed visibility sent a jolt of panic through her. Raemi... was she alright? Had Claria's failure, her weakness, brought the dancer's performance to a premature end?

It hadn't, thank the gods. A torrent of ink, instead of dispersing, gathered into one concentrated, rising shape, a gleam of colourful scales and membranes at its centre. As Raemi broke the surface, Claria swam upwards after her, her oxygen-starved muscles aching throughout her body. She pumped her fins and legs as hard as she could, the barrier between water and air so close, yet seemingly miles away as the ringing in her earholes grew louder and her vision tunnelled...

The sea breeze buffeted her scales. She drew in several deep, gasping, much-needed breaths, the lightheadnedness clearing, the tremors in her limbs easing. Her sharpening senses revealed the final act; one giant boar, galloping in circles on the sunlit surface, crimson ribbons drawing up into its hooves and trailing from its flank. Blood - her blood, not monster ichor. And hopefully only her own, rather than Raemi's.

At least she'd been able to contribute to the performance in some way, she thought, wiping at a cut below her helm that threatened to ooze into her eye. And contribute she still would. She pulled the remaining bottles from the Octorok skin pouch, letting them float towards the boar as if on a current, all while keeping watch for enemies. With her lights run down, she wouldn't be able to snipe them, her sword her only means of offense. Her thoughts went to the one Stamella Shroom skewer she'd had time to prepare beforehand, but even if she found a moment to consume the snack, it would take at least ten minutes for her glow to recover enough for even one beam or blade.

The arrows she and the boar wove past grew sparser, but she couldn't let her guard down. One more Lizalfos cut through the water, a blue Bokoblin on its back, spear in hand. As the Bokoblin pulled its arm back, ready to target its porcine prey, Claria held her sword out. Even as pain spiked anew, she swallowed down a cry building in her throat, darting forward with a powerful dolphin kick and impaling the reptile through its side. The Lizalfos gurgled and disappeared under the waves, the Bokoblin flailing as it followed suit.

Her gaze snapped to the island, lest any more foes capable of swimming approach. Past smoke clouds billowing from flaming trees, past thinning hordes of Bokoblins and Moblins that continued to wade and drown, so single-mindedly focused on their target they didn't seem to realise the "ground" was gone, she spotted something that drew a soft gasp from her. The aircraft, reduced to ruins.

Alyson... Was it too late for the peppy pilot? Claria clenched her fists. Her promise to protect Raemi, sadly, left her in no position to intervene. She could only pray that Gao would... and that he hadn't succumbed himself to the fire that tore through the jungle.


As Alyson's strength returned, she flung the boomerang as hard as possible at the nearest Bokoblin, toppling it onto its rear end. With her other hand, she grabbed the only other weapon available to her - one of the ink bottles. She hurled it into the crowd, mustering a rippling burst of wind behind it. The glass shattered against a Boko shield, violet ink splattering in all directions, a puff of dark fumes spreading outwards. Alyson swept her arm in a frantic arc, directing the wind to blow sand and swirling vapour around, stepping back to avoid breathing any in. "Ha... Gives a new meaning to second wind!"

Monsters stumbled through the chaos, turning blades and clubs on each other. Alyson seized the opportunity. She sprinted aside and ducked behind the wrecked Loftwing. The sight of wings, sigils, wooden beams she'd so painstakingly carved reduced to splinters made her ribs constrict, but she couldn't let herself think of that right now. Much more was at risk of destruction.

She peered over the top of the aircraft, a lump forming in her throat at the unfolding carnage. It wasn't technically by her own hand that the pirates fell, but it might as well have been. And even though these were the same types of monsters that had terrorised her family and community throughout her childhood, they were still sapient beings. She wanted to look away, yet to do so wouldn't just be cowardly, it would be unwise. Who knew how long until the confounding effect wore off? Reaching into her toolbelt pocket, gripping another vial, she prepared for such.

It wasn't just the Muddle Bud haze that clouded the air, but smoke in the distance, thickening by the minute above amber flickers. Alyson bit back a whimper. That lightning bolt... It had gotten out of control, as elemental magic was wont to do. Where was Gao? Surely his ally wouldn't let any harm come to him? She blinked away tears beading beneath her goggles - just in time to see a blue Moblin snap to its senses and turn its snout towards the plane, sniffing. She scrambled back against the cliff face as the Moblin rounded on her, club raised, two newly-lucid Bokoblins in tow.

She shot out a hand, a gust sending them staggering. The spell's chaotic force struck not just the enemies, but a wing jutting at a crooked angle above her, which cracked and collapsed in a swirl of wooden shards. Alyson yelped and hunched, arms crossed over her head, the splinters that rained down bruising and scraping her skin.

Crawling from under the fallen sail, she flung a second vial at the Moblin. It hit its mark, cloaking both it and the Bokos in a noxious cloud. She staggered to her feet and skittered aside, watching the Moblin swing its club at its allies with all the grace of a drunkard.

To the east, movement stirred. Alyson allowed herself the briefest of glances towards the encroaching inferno, figures sihouetted against its glare. Was that Gao and his army on their way, or a fresh wave of enemies?

[El]

Gore: it gushed and it rained. Gao's vision swum in red, as did his sweat-slick skin. The pounding of his chest echoed the fierce rhythm of his breath, feral pants against a wardrum thunder of adrenaline highs. The swing and sweep of kissing blades. The thumps of brutalised flesh. Down went another monster, torn in two, and over its gurgling corpse the masked Sheikah pounced. Onwards through the fray.

They were family once.

With the heat of a forest-fire searing his back, and the stench of soot and viscera clogging his nostrils, there was no time to reminisce - or lament. The scholar carved his path with vicious efficiency. Feral. Reflexive. Brutally violent. It was clear the man had never received any formal training, but without the leash of restraint to bind his neck he was free to cleave and slaughter with bloodlust abandon.

They were family once, so he knew well - intimately - far more about these creatures than a simple hunter would.

He'd slept beside them. He'd tracked beside them. He'd helped roast their meals. He'd assisted in building their homes. He'd witnessed the birth of their young. He'd celebrated their wins, and mourned their losses. He'd shared their drinks. He'd danced with them around the campfires. He'd tended to their wounded and even baptised their adolescents with their first streak of warpaint.

Bokoblins.
Quick-learners with a wide variety of skills: the same feint never works twice.
Easily cowed as individuals but relentlessly brash in groups: separate them from their allies.
Impressive hearing and infinitely curious: if stealth and distraction is off the table, overwhelm their senses with loud noise.
...They also love honey and stories.

A blue-skinned warrior crumpled at Gao's already passing feet.

Lizalfos.
Incredibly agile and speedy: use their ego to exhaust them.
A penchant for mischief that enjoys stalking and playing with their prey: lure them into traps, or wait until they're mid-leap and vulnerable before striking their stomachs.
Fiercer at range with a potent natural skillset: close the distance, seize their tongues mid-sweep.
...They also love fishing and shiny baubles.

A reptile choked on its own blood and splattered Gao as he passed on by.

Moblins.
Heroic levels of upper body strength: they're top-heavy, easy to unbalance if you aim for their knees.
Commanding and selfish, utilising every tool at their disposal even if it's an ally: save them until last and whittle down their thin patience with fleetfooted swipes.
A strong sense of smell and an impressive reach: their vision is dull and their aim wide and clumsy, blast their senses with a fistful of viscera or dirt and dodge their telegraphed blows rather than meet them.
...They also love afternoon naps amidst flowers and shoulder-rubs.

Shins splintered, snorting on slobbering gore, the giant crashed downwards behind Gao who had already passed on through.

He knew their tells. Their mannerisms. The habits built by predictable lifestyles. Patterns that repeated. Urges and instincts that never faded.

But they had also taught him.

A deafening screech of failing metal punctured Gao's eardrums as his halberd finally met its demise. Weakening fractures now burst and splintered, an unintentional collision against a tough moblin's horn sounding its deathcry. Backwards the Sheikah pounced, dancing through the rain of drenched silver. He reared the shaft of his splintered weapon and thrust it forwards... only for it to be swatted aside with an arrogant snort. Gao's tired muscles failed. He lost his grip. Upwards reared the shadow of the monster, cleaver held high. Backwards the Sheikah tumbled, losing his footing on one still-moulding corpse of many.

He raised the sacrifice of his left forearm, teeth gritted, fist clenched. He braced.

—----------

The ink finally bled into transparency. Diluted, the painting bloomed its last few strokes until only water stirred and shimmered, the rampaging musculature of the giant boar cleansed into fluid crystal. Pretty, but nowhere near as effective.

Raemi crashed into the sea.

The puppetry strings had snapped, and with the relief of the finale her whole world folded into itself. Warm, were the familiar waters. Distant were the last few cries of drowning monsters. She felt the currents shift around her but the blow never came. ...An ally then?

Through the haze of encroaching slumber and dissipating shadow, Raemi pushed up her heavy eyelids. Her vision was blurred, glittering, swaying, melting. But the sigh that bubbled free from her paled lips assured her she was still in the waking world. She was alive. Somehow. And beside her bobbed a familiar silhouette, not afloat with the emptiness of a drifting soul, but treading water: Claria was alive too!

With a surge of energy - brittle, but enough - the dancer broke through the surface of the sea and gasped out a pant. The sunlight was blinding, sending shards of spears through her skull as her vision flared and her stomach churned. It took her a minute before she could form words, her throat constricted over the threat of bile and painfully dry.

"D-did we-... did we... do it?"

A loose arrow bumped against her shoulder, pulling her strained gaze towards a littering of debris as far as her sight could reach. Weapons with no owners, bobbing on the ebbing tide. A few more swirls of toxic purple faded into wisps of memory.

Silence.

At least, here the coast was clear.

Ha.

With a weak smile that took far more effort to hold than she liked, Raemi was about to share her awful pun with her fellow Zora when she caught a scene unfolding on the shore. Smoke plumed from a pile of wreckage. A moblin swiped aside the last of a violet tendril, stomping a remaining bokoblin below foot and roaring with blinded rage. Terror shrill and breathless seized Raemi, but that fear was nothing compared to what came next.

The moblin had spotted a new target. It spun towards it with a below and charged, lumbering feet pounding the sand below with club in tow.

No. Not 'It'. Her.

The dancer spied a familiar figure, tanned skin and ink-black hair scrambling deeper inside the debris for shelter. It had been her glider. And now, it was going to be her tomb.

—----------

It didn't see him coming.

Knees buckled, maw agape, the creature's bulky digits stiffened, releasing its club with a tremouring thump. Blood gurgled in its throat. More spilled forth from its chest. Rolling bulging eyes forwards through the jitters and twitches, the moblin looked down at a heart. Its heart. It throbbed. Quaked. One last withering beat before SQUEALCH - the clawed hand which had seized it tight, crushed it into an exploding ball of tissue and goop.

Clean through its shattered ribs the assailant yanked back his fist, palm burning with the heat of a dying life while the monster crumpled into a decaying mass of shadow before him. It didn't take long until it fizzled and melted, the same dark sorcery which claimed its soul and body turning too the heap of flesh still firm in his grasp. It dripped like wet sand through his fingers. Faded before it hit the floor.

Ba-bump.

It was his own heart that made the noise, the Lynel Mask realised a few beats too late. His hand was empty, but it was still clawed. Tense. Fire in his veins.

Crimson eyes glowed from the pits of the stitched-fabric shadows, capturing within its sights the figure of a Hylian woman.

Ba-bump.

He didn't blink.

Ba-bump.

He didn't move.

Ba-bump.

Every visible muscle tightened, coiling up like a predator before it pounced. The veins bulged. His glare glowed sharper. The swell of his chest and the tickle of rising hairs disturbed the settling of dripping blood. Some melted away entirely, but a bulk of it still streamed from surface-level gashes and open puncture wounds. Wounds that tightened. Cuts that narrowed. A shudder trembled through the war-painted man. You could see the thirst bulge in his throat. A thirst which-

"G-GAO?!!!"

—----------

Stumbling ashore, an erratic Raemi dashed with burning feet across the sand. She tipped and swayed in a clatter of coral and pearls, losing her balance more than once but always seizing herself upright in the end.

There was a horrible feeling in her chest - and it wasn't fatigue. It wasn't even the horror of all they'd been through.

It was a fear of what was to come.

Why? She didn't have time to ask that, the Sheikah's name already shredding her throat in a desperate cry, "G-GAO?!!!"

The figure stilled. Then turned. Raemi's gut churned. A quiver of a sob squeaked through her trembling lips.

—----------

Gao...

Right. That was correct.

He was Gao.

Lifting a shuddering hand, soiled and bruised, his fingers seized the Lynel mask and tore it down and off. Air, cold and fresh rushed into his lungs with a violent force. He gasped at it, as if he'd been drowning. A half-manic smile twitched at the corners of his barred grin.

"...Gao?" The Zora croaked again. Timid. No, afraid. He met her golden stare, wide-eyed as it was, and felt a softer breath then ease the bulging of his chest.

"Well done." Gao managed, the warming expression of his gentle features at odds with the grisly growl of his throat. He coughed. Almost choked. Still holding the lynel mask in one hand he lifted instead another, brushing a flayed fist across his mouth.

Don't lick it.

After an abrupt pause, the hand fell again. Drawing in deep breaths to settle the still racing thunder of his heart, the Sheikah's seeking gaze turned then to Alyson. "Are you hurt?" The inquiry was sincere. But the weight of a frown crushed his comforting smile when he realised the truth of the wreckage she'd taken cover in. "...The coast is clear for now, so we should have a few moments at least to gather ourselves." What they could anyway.

A surprising little giggle trilled beside him then, luring his attention back to Raemi.

"Oh! S-Sorry." She spluttered, shame staining her cheeks as she clapped her hands over her mouth. "It's just that-... I thought the same pun myself just a minute ago."

Unbidden, Gao caught himself chortling a small laugh too. "...No pun intended." He sighed in wistful defeat. The groan was accompanied by another wonky smile.

Right. He was Gao.