Equal
The aroma of the siege drifts up the steep cliffs of Death Mountain, pleasing Ganondorf’s senses. Though he is far out of earshot of the battle cries and screams, the distant fires do enough to ensure him all is going according to plan. King Bulbin is a useful tool, always ready for a good old-fashioned assault at the drop of a hat. He would lose scores of his kind, but they are worth less to him than the flies that circle his Bullbo. Spurring his dark steed onward, the king of thieves continues up Death Mountain Trail toward the always-present halo of clouds surrounding the volcanic peak. The sun has set beyond his home in the west, bringing a welcome shadow to the mountain. He arrives at the gates of Goron City without incident, and the pair of guards react to the dark figure’s approach far too late. Apelike in physique, the Goron race is one of strength and perseverance, their hides composed of durable skin resembling stone. Dismounting his horse with a chuckle, Ganondorf struts toward the gate, cracking his knuckles as the guards prepare to defend their city.
Attacking simultaneously, one of the pair is immediately immobilized by a subtle flick of the dark lord’s wrist. Blasting out of the ground beneath his feet, large chains of dark energy overtake the Goron like a heavy fishing net before falling back to the ground, the sheer weight of the tangled mess hopelessly restraining the warrior. Failing to notice his partner’s imprisonment, the second guard rolls into a ball, rocketing toward the intruder like a deadly boulder. Leaping into the air, Ganondorf flips forward and stomps down upon the approaching antagonist, laying the mighty warrior flat on his face upon the mountain trail as dark electricity crackles over his defeated form. Seeing his comrade defeated so easily, the remaining guard increases his struggle to free himself from the dark shackles placed upon him, finally snapping one of the many chains and freeing his arm. Continuing forward at a casual pace, the dark lord opens a hand beside his waist, an influx of dark energy pouring into his palm as he walks. Shielding himself in vain, the remaining guard is brutally thrown into a wall of rock, obliterating the stone as if it were a castle of sand. Now feeling appropriately limbered up, Ganondorf blasts the city gates apart with a conjured force field, continuing into the city without opposition.
Goron City, usually covered with the rock-eating race from top to bottom, is oddly empty. A loud ruckus can be heard from the central nexus far below, the city composed of a multitude of levels cascading down to a clearing at the bottom. Expecting far more resistance, Ganondorf decides to remain in the shadows during his descent, curious as to what could be causing the primal shouts and cheers below. Passing mighty murals of Goron ancestry, the dark lord eludes another torch’s glow, reaching an optimal vantage point. The entire city has gathered in a large circle around a fighting arena, shouting excitedly as two particularly large Goron battle in the center. The one holding the center of the ring is his target. Darbus, patriarch of the Goron tribe, is a massive individual and undefeated in the sumo ring. Knowing the former patriarch was entrusted with the medallion of fire, the king of thieves deduces the same must be true now. Prepared to intervene in the pathetic spectacle, he suddenly notices the challenger has the clear upper hand. A particularly large Goron in his own right, the contender is very unique compared to the rest of his race, encircling the battleground and shouting excitedly. He doesn’t wear the traditional sumo loincloth, nor does he utilize the crouched down horse-stance to prevent being overtaken by a sudden attack. Instead he stands upright, his hands and forearms wrapped tightly with rope and held high, leaving his legs and body completely vulnerable. Darbus dashes forward to attempt a tackle, but the challenger knocks him off course with a rapid flurry of punches and elbows. Obviously enraged, the patriarch charges again only to meet the same end. Knocked to the ground by an extra powerful knee finding his chin, his opponent does not taunt or show any signs of cockiness or flair, remaining crisp and alert as he lets Darbus back to his feet. Shaking off the blow, the patriarch is upright in seconds, looking for another opening.
“You hit like your father,” the patriarch taunts with a glare of contempt, spitting to the side after rotating his jaw. “Maybe you can dance for us after you lose!” He teases, feigning another takedown attempt. Carefully maintaining his distance, the challenger’s eyes are like that of a hawk, seeing every insignificant movement and calculating his response. The crowd continues to be exceptionally energetic, no one able to give Darbus an actual fight for years. “What’s the matter? Afraid to lock up with me? I’ll put you on the ground so fast it’ll make your head spin!” He declares, charging forward and grabbing for his opponent’s legs. Tucking into a ball and rushing forward, he is confused to find his target eluding him once again, leaping into a brief backflip and landing on a single leg. Quickly crouching into a ball himself, the challenger bears down upon the unsuspecting Darbus. Not expecting the counter attack, the patriarch is caught off guard, scrambling to protect himself. A rapid flurry of jabs and uppercuts leaves Darbus shielding his face while backing up, the strikes visibly rocking the Goron’s head backward. Changing up his combinations, the challenger throws vicious body strikes, forcing his opponent to lower his guard just in time to receive a brutal elbow to the temple. The onslaught continues, parting the crowd as Darbus is backed to the wall without an answer for the hurricane of blows hammering his form. Knowing he is moments from being knocked unconscious, he drops to a knee, slapping the ground three times with his open palm. The sign of surrender. The thunderous cheers are almost instantly cut short as Ganondorf grows tired of the exhibition, dropping into the center of the ring with laughter. The collective gasps quickly turn to flight as the entire tribe rapidly pours out of the area in fear. Stepping away from the defeated Darbus, the younger Goron begins to circle the newcomer, eyeing him carefully. Staring at the new patriarch with amusement, the dark lord waits until he circles too far from his fellow Goron before making his move. Blasting over toward Darbus at blinding speed, Ganondorf grabs him by the neck and lifts him overhead while the Goron attempts to pry his deadly grip loose.
“Stop!” The new patriarch commands, marching forward.
“Do not challenge him, Link,” Darbus pleads, barely able to breathe in Ganondorf’s iron grip. Temporarily confused by the young Goron’s name, the king of thieves glares at him with hatred. His split lip and scarred face make it obvious he has led a rough life. The life of a fighter. The jagged rocks covering his back climb up and over his head in a mohawk, giving him the appearance of a rebel. The tribal tattoos coating his body are radically different from the Goron of this tribe, but the symbol of the Goron Ruby is proudly displayed on both arms. Turning his gaze back to the pathetic creature in his grasp, Ganondorf bellows a question.
“Are you in there, sage? How many must I kill for you to show yourself?”
“Drop him,” Link states bluntly. Though he has been patriarch of the tribe for only a matter of seconds, he will not tolerate anyone bringing violence upon his people. Not even the dark lord himself. Turning to face him slowly, Ganondorf’s face has changed in the seconds since he last looked upon him. Distorted by some manner of evil magic, his brow has sharpened, angling his eyes in a permanently evil scowl. His long nose has turned upward and shortened above his sharpened teeth, clamped like a livid vise. The figure inside the orb of flame has opened its arms, demanding the impudent Goron be dealt with. Ganondorf can feel the flame closing in around him, the horizon closing faster and faster, forcing him to make his choice. Will he submit to the figure in the orb, or stand against oblivion on his own?
“Drop him! Now!” Link demands once again, his voice gaining some base with the second declaration. Releasing his grasp, Ganondorf allows Darbus to fall to the ground beside him, choking for air as the dark lord stares daggers at Link. Climbing back to his feet, Darbus attempts to smile at his new patriarch when the back of a dark gauntlet smashes against his chest. Zapped into the wall as if struck by lightning, Darbus’s limp form topples to the ground and
twitches as random arcs of electricity jolt across his body. The attack was too fast for even Link to perceive, his heart sinking as the former patriarch lies inert at the warlock’s feet. His face obscured with an involuntary mask of evil energy, the king of thieves has gone too long without fulfilling his need for slaughter. The thirst for power has overwhelmed his mind, locking out all reason and restraint. Standing his ground, Link slowly raises his unique guard, his lead leg bouncing rhythmically as he prepares for the worst.
“I see you,” Ganondorf states slowly in a voice not his own. Link feels as if his wild eyes are piercing through him before the Gerudo blasts toward him in a whirlwind of dark energy. Dodging the first strike easily enough, Link is not prepared for the onslaught that follows. Able to change directions instantly, Ganondorf steps off a magic glyph where his target evaded him, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. An uppercut of extraordinary magnitude lands on the Goron’s forearm as he manages to block the telegraphed attack. Still, the force