06-04-2015, 05:17 AM
Night had fallen upon Karl Jak’s island of death, a clouded sky making Ganondorf’s trek through the forest all the more treacherous. The Demon Lord scowled as he peered into the darkness around him, eyes squinted in an attempt to make out his surroundings. Though he moved slowly and deliberately, he still was struck repeatedly by tree branches, and tripped by jutting roots. Yet, he soldiered on, even when the branches would snag his broken arm and send a fresh bolt of pain through his agonized body.
With his sight diminished, the Gerudo’s other senses had begun to heighten, to horrifying proportions. The great King could hear as his bones scraped along his armor. He could smell the coppery scent of blood, the musty smell of powdered bone, and the sickly sweet of infection. Every bruise and scrape on his body was felt anew as his mind attempted to compensate for Ganondorf’s lack of sight. Worse still, the darkness was setting a fatigue into his bones; an exhaustion that the King of Evil had been able to keep at bay mostly through the extraordinary pain he was under. He hadn’t slept since reviving at the Nexus, partly because he hadn’t trusted Link to let him live through a night asleep, and the sleep debt was beginning to take its toll. The Gerudo’s feet were beginning to drag through the brush and forest debris, staggering even when no root had caught his foot. He pulled himself along with his good arm, moving from tree to tree like a dead man walking. Probably because he was.
Eventually, one of those stumbled turned into an actual fall and the great Gerudo King landed amidst the leaves and detritus with a soft thump. He found he didn’t have the energy to rise again, despite his struggles, and Ganondorf eventually gave up trying. His arm, blazing with agony before, had dulled… numbed, and he truly and sincerely smiled. For the first time since he’d come to this competition, the Demon Lord was at peace. Perhaps he would make it through the night, he pondered, his eyes sliding closed against his will. Perhaps someone will come across me and think me dead already. And perhaps they’ll be right.
With his sight diminished, the Gerudo’s other senses had begun to heighten, to horrifying proportions. The great King could hear as his bones scraped along his armor. He could smell the coppery scent of blood, the musty smell of powdered bone, and the sickly sweet of infection. Every bruise and scrape on his body was felt anew as his mind attempted to compensate for Ganondorf’s lack of sight. Worse still, the darkness was setting a fatigue into his bones; an exhaustion that the King of Evil had been able to keep at bay mostly through the extraordinary pain he was under. He hadn’t slept since reviving at the Nexus, partly because he hadn’t trusted Link to let him live through a night asleep, and the sleep debt was beginning to take its toll. The Gerudo’s feet were beginning to drag through the brush and forest debris, staggering even when no root had caught his foot. He pulled himself along with his good arm, moving from tree to tree like a dead man walking. Probably because he was.
Eventually, one of those stumbled turned into an actual fall and the great Gerudo King landed amidst the leaves and detritus with a soft thump. He found he didn’t have the energy to rise again, despite his struggles, and Ganondorf eventually gave up trying. His arm, blazing with agony before, had dulled… numbed, and he truly and sincerely smiled. For the first time since he’d come to this competition, the Demon Lord was at peace. Perhaps he would make it through the night, he pondered, his eyes sliding closed against his will. Perhaps someone will come across me and think me dead already. And perhaps they’ll be right.