TLOZ Chatroom

PREVIOUSLY.........

Zelda made a public announcement that the Gerudo were now allowed to come and go freely within the country. She also gave Ganondorf and Rabia Hyrule Castle while she “is on vacation.” Not suspicious or anything. During this announcement, Rabia also made one of her own -- SHE’S HAVING A BOY. Midna has also given up on Rabia helping the “good guys” for the time being. Link is still stuck in the competition to save Zelda, but is going to go even if he doesn’t win. Lastly... why is no one caring about anyone else in this chatroom?!

Link had nearly been disqualified from the competition because of the misconstrued story of the events the night before. Not that he really cared much, but he was still in a bad mood after his talk with the king. He sat in the dining hall, munching on his breakfast sulkily. He noticed that Marth hadn’t come down yet, and the competition was less than two hours away. Again, not that he cared much; Marth would end up winning the competition even if he didn’t show up. Link grumbled to himself in annoyance, setting his spoon down next to his bowl. He left the hall without finishing his meal and headed for his room. He spent the next hour trying to fall asleep, but to no avail. He then took as long as possible in the bath. A guard came knocking a while later, dropping off some clothes and telling him to hurry up; there were only twenty minutes left until the competition would start. He sighed and did as he was told, only taking the shirt they had delivered. It was itchy, heavy, and unnecessarily decorated with jewels. He grimaced at it in the mirror, trying to pick some of the decorations off. Another guard came moments later to escort him to the arena.
Link caught sight of some of the other entrants when they arrived. The porky man from before was giving a pep talk to his son, whom was countless times leaner and more attractive than his father. The fiery-haired man was also there with his own son -- they could be mistaken for brothers if the elder was a couple years younger. He also saw Marth and Ike conversing further down. He went to step toward and join them when he was seized by the shoulder.
“You don’t have a brain, do you boy?” Cornelius hissed, leading him the other way. He scowled at Link as he simply shrugged. “Come get a weapon so it’s at least a little more fair.” He smiled fakely at anyone that greeted him, dropping the facade when they turned away. “Come on now, hurry up and grab a sword.” Link was shoved into a room with scarcely any weapons, and he looked around with a frown. “If you hadn’t come later than everyone else, you might have had first pick,” the king said impatiently. Link looked around a table before him with only three swords -- all larger than what he was used to. Knowing there was no point in complaining, he grabbed the lightest of the three and left the room. “Good luck, Link,” Cornelius called after him, snickering to himself as he walked away. Link blinked, watching the king walk away pompously. Suddenly, a man nearly twice the size of Link approached him. His biceps were probably the size of Link’s head. He looked up at the giant man.
“Nice sword!” the man said, admiring the blade. “Where did you get that?” Link stepped back to see him better.
“I just got it from that room over there,” he answered, pointing behind him. The man pulled his own sword out, dwarfed by his massive body. He held it toward Link so they could both see it.
“My sword’s pretty nice too, you know...” he started sheepishly. “It was sharpened only yesterday...” Link surveyed the sword; it was closer in size and shape to swords he was used to.
“I’ll say,” Link answered, admiring the blade with great interest. He held his giant sword toward the other. “Wanna trade? Just for the competition?” The man grinned and nodded.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted, switching swords with Link. He held the sword in his hands, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth. It probably weighed a third of what the sword he previously held had. The other man was still grinning, slicing with his new weapon. “Thanks!” he said. He held out a massive hand and shook Link’s much smaller one. “Barty.” Link assumed this was a greeting and nodded in acknowledgement.
“Hi Barty, I’m Link,” he answered with smile. “Good luck in the tournament.” Barty gave him friendly slap on the shoulder.
“You too!” he said. He turned to walk away, but stopped and pointed to Link. “Oh, and I like your ears -- so sweet.” Link touched his ears, now observing how he was the only contender with Hylian ears. He smiled again.
“Thanks,” he replied. Barty then jogged back to his party; a small, giddy man with glasses and an androgynous woman of giant proportions. Link assumed they were his parents. He looked for Marth and Ike again, but found they were nowhere to be seen. Just then, the king started speaking to the crowd Link suddenly noticed.
“Welcome, Altea, to this small tournament of sorts!” Cornelius called as the noise died down. “We will now start with the first rounds! The duelists are paired with people based on ability and size, and the last two men standing will battle for the victory!” The crowd erupted in cheers. “Now on to the tournament!” He began calling names; Marth’s name was called first, his opponent being someone named Baldwin. Link watched as a small, (quite appropriately) bald man emerged from a row of entrants. This didn’t seem fair at all, of course, because Marth wasn’t that small. This man also appeared to have a slight limp. Link figured the whole competition would be this rigged, however. A few more names were called before Link’s -- including the plump man’s son, Carin, who walked toward his foe confidently. Eventually, Link’s name was called. He slowly walked forward, looking around for an “Icewing Nghrarsrad.” Soon, his eyes caught sight of a towering man with the head of a dragon situated on the top of his head. He wore warpaints and pants made of a thick hide. He was shirtless, revealing his muscles to be even larger and more defined than Barty’s. He stepped forward, his look menacing. Link noticed his eyes were a pale, glazed pink, looking distant.
“Hello,” Link greeted, looking cautiously at the spiked whip in the man’s hand. The man burst into sound, crying in an unrecognizable language. His eyes still looked distant as he spoke. Link wondered if he had just been set up to fight with a blind man, but was sure he would find out in a moment. Barty had been paired with Ike, it appeared, as the two greeted each other and chatted. Link awkwardly avoided Icewing’s gaze -- or lack thereof.
Once the king had given every contender an opponent, he announced for the first round to commence. Immediately, Icewing cracked his deadly whip at Link, slicing a wound on his neck and jaw. Link yelped and jumped away, touching his neck gingerly. Icewing roared and started lassoing his whip around. Link saw that he still didn’t seem to be looking directly at anything, so he crouched down low and stayed silent. Icewing stopped after a moment to listen to sound, at which Link was sure not to move. He crawled as cautiously as he could forward when his opponent began to make a weird clicking sound. Link was almost to Icewing’s whip hand when the latter’s head suddenly craned down, staring straight through him. Link paused, but before he could back away he was whipped again. A spike had broken off by his left shoulder blade, causing him to howl in pain. He quickly rolled away to avoid being whipped again. Icewing continued to make his strange sound, now suddenly able to perceive where Link was much more accurately.
Link ran around him, trying to avoid his range of motion. He picked up a few rocks and tossed them on the other side of Icewing, trying to make him turn the other way. After a couple attempts (and having to lie right on his back to avoid, what Link assumed was, his echolocation), he finally turned around. He continued to click, walking threateningly toward another opponent in a nearby duel. Link rushed after him, deftly swiping at his whip hand and disarming him. Icewing turned with a swing, knocking Link right in the side of the head with his giant fist. He hit the ground with a thud, his head pounding so hard he could barely hear. He rolled away before Icewing pounded straight into the ground, narrowly avoiding probably being killed right there. Icewing pulled his fist from the ground and clicked around again, searching for Link. He figured his best bet was to stay close to the ground because he wasn’t as easily found then. He snuck around his challenger before rushing in at his legs and knocking him over. Icewing fell forward, roughly hitting the ground. He roared and kicked Link off, effectively knocking the wind out of him. He rolled away again before he was nearly pummeled.
Link wasn’t really sure how either were supposed to win this match; he had a feeling he wouldn’t be walking out alive if this kept up. He avoided most of Icewing’s attacks, rarely attempting any on his own. Minutes later, Link had formulated a plan (sort of) and began to act on it. He raced over to Icewing’s whip on the ground and quickly wrapped it around his opponents legs. As Icewing roared and spluttered in his native language, Link dragged his heavy body to the edge of their marked “rink.” He pushed him with all his strength out of the boundaries of their battlezone. Apparently, this pleased the crowd because they roared with applause. Other duelists followed his example, now trying to get their foes out of the marked space. A few moments later, all of the battles of the first round had been won. The king acknowledged this and began formulating next round’s pairs with a few other chairmen by his seat.
Link held a hand out to Icewing to offer him help off the ground. “Good match, you were a difficult opponent,” he said. Icewing ripped his whip roughly off his legs, tearing some spots of hide. He smacked Link’s hand away and stood.
“That was not a good match,” he chortled, his accent thicker than Link’s skull (Link: HEY!!!). “Never in my life have I ever been so ashamed,” he continued, pointing a finger at Link’s chest. “There will be no welcome for me when I return to my home.”
“I’m sorry,” Link said, only being half honest. “If I had known, I...” He trailed off, figuring he shouldn’t continue with “I would have let you win.” That would probably anger Icewing more, which Link intended to avoid doing. Icewing turned away, leaving the arena with the other defeated men angrily. Barty was leaving along with them, looking glum and upset. Link sighed.
Well at least Zelda doesn’t have to meet Icewing... he thought. He looked for Marth and Ike and saw them congratulating each other. Neither looked at him.The king announced the next round soon after, in which Link was to fight “Antony Opaliveours.” This opponent seemed more evenly matched -- about Link’s height and size, also bearing a sword. He was weaker than he looked however, and he was knocked out of the ring moments after the match had started. He looked around to see Marth was fighting a thin man with completely black eyes. He was nimble and good with a sword, but was also knocked out of the boundary soon. Link tried to catch Marth’s eye, but Marth wasn’t even looking in his direction.
The round after that, Link fought the plump man’s son, Carin Veguardente. He started the match with good sportsmanship, shaking hands with Link unlike most of the others, and didn’t throw in any dirty shots during the match. He was more of a challenge for Link than Antony was, avoiding and blocking many of his advances. In the end, however, he stepped too far and fell right out of the ring on his own. He accepted his defeat better than most, however he still looked disappointed as he left the arena.
Six rounds later, Link had thrown a wannabe sorcerer out of the marks of the rink and was one of the last men standing. As predicted, his opponent would be Marth -- the only other contender that remained. They approached each other as the crowd grew silent. A moment passed before either of them moved, in which Link bowed deeply.
“You still don’t want to accept my offer?” he whispered as Marth hesitatingly did the same. Marth glowered.
“You should just forfeit now; my dad already--” he started.
“Let’s just have a fair fight, okay?” Link asked with a sigh. Marth continued to stare at him for another moment before nodding.
“Okay,” he answered. The two drew their swords and stepped away from each other. Then, as if snapping out of something, Marth jumped around Link and sliced twice at him. Link cried out in shock before leaping away, a warm pain growing in his side. He turned to strike Marth, but was quickly blocked by his sword. Link pushed abruptly forward, barely managing to move Marth an inch backward. He struggled to hold Marth off him as he released their swords. Link swiped his sword horizontally, hoping to at least make a cut on his partner, whom didn’t even have a hair out of place. He succeeded, slicing a rip in the shirt he wore. Marth looked at the tear and growled before slicing at Link himself. He missed, however, as Link had predicted his response a second before. Link knocked Marth’s hand, trying to disarm him. He failed, and Marth just bumped him in the nose in the process. Marth went to strike Link again, knocking the sword Barty had lent him from his hand. He raced to grab for it, but Marth quickly kicked it out of bounds. Link scowled.
“I thought you said we would have a fair fight,” he said in annoyance.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Link, this is fair,” Marth answered, circling closer to him. Link sighed before running full force forward into Marth’s stomach, trying to push him out of the lines. Marth was strong though; he held onto Link’s arms and tried to push him right back. After a second, he knocked Link off him and held his sword toward him threateningly.
“You’re foot’s out of bounds!” Link cried, drawing his attention down. Marth complied, looking down. Link took his chance and pushed again, this time actually knocking Marth out of bounds. He fell backward and landed hard on the ground. Link breathed hard, dusting his pants off with a smile. “Try to rig that, Cornelius,” he said with a small, satisfied laugh. The two looked to the king’s box, and saw he looked flushed and angry. He stood to address the crowd.
“Well...” he started, pausing to look around at his cabinet. He then turned back and huddled to talk with them. Link stepped forward and held a hand out to Marth.
“Good match, Marth,” he said, panting and wiping his forehead with his other hand. Marth hesitated before accepting his gesture and being helped up. He dusted himself off as well, the dirt staining parts of his white pants. “Sorry about your pants.”
“That’s okay,” Marth answered glumly. He stood close to Link’s side, his head slightly tilted toward him. “You know he’s going to find a way to say you cheated...” Link didn’t answer; he already knew that was true. He would offer help to Marth anyway, even if he had to reword the question three hundred times. They waited in silence until the king finally turned around with a smug smile on his face. Marth sighed. “I told you...”
“We have come to a conclusion for the winner of this match,” he began. “Although Link managed to knock Prince Marth out of the boundaries, he has used an illegal manner to do it.” Noise from the crowd sounded, mostly cheers. Link looked at the ground and let out a breath of defeat. “Because he didn’t fight honorably to earn his victory, it has been unanimously decided that Marth should be declared victorious instead!” The crowd cheered wildly, but Marth stared at his feet ashamed. He sheathed his sword and avoided Link’s gaze. Link gave him a friendly nudge.
“Good job, Marth,” he said. Marth didn’t look or respond to him. Marth’s father and company were making there way over to him as the crowd soon began to file out. Link was quickly pushed out of the ring of supporters as Marth was congratulated. He continued to stare at his feet, his eyebrows knitted together. Link turned and left the arena alone.