Riders On The Storm.
By. Doc Holliday
Prologue: Fire, Ice And Gold.
"I need a hero,
I'm holding on for hero,
'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong,
and he's gotta be fast,
and he's gotta be fresh
from the fight"
--BONNIE TYLER
"I was born with a six-gun in my hand
Behind the gun, I'll make my final stand.
That's why they call me: Bad Company
And I can't deny it.
Bad Company, till the day I die."
--BAD COMPANY
High above Kakariko Village, rises the peak of Death Mountain, a massive rock upon which the race of rock-people known as Gorons live. The Gorons are a peaceful people unless provoked, and even then they are hesitant to attack. It is for that reason that the mountain's name remains a bit of a mystery. It isn't as if it is a question the people of Kakariko toil over, but it is still one that everyone stops to think about every once in a while.
On this day just after the beginning of spring, when everything was beginning to flourish in the little village of Kakariko, the mountain suddenly lived up to the fabled name. The usually docile mountain, belched a pocket of methane into the air. This was not unusual, as the magma heats trapped gases, causing them to expand past the breaking point, thus creating a boiling effect. This methane pocket, however was gigantic.
The mountain rumbled, then belched the invisible gas into the air with a deep, unearthly growl. The snarl was animalistic, seemingly threatening the tiny village and, considering what happened next, it probably was.
The peak seemed to choose that precise moment to erupt, as if the gases escaping had jarred something loose. There was another low rumble, then a bang. A flash flew across the city of Hyrule, on it's heels was an explosion that rocked the land. The very sound of the bang sent a shockwave halfway across Hyrule field. It rocked the stone walls of the Palace and decimated trees on the edge of the village
As the flames disappeared from the skies of Kakariko, those few who were unlucky enough to find themselves outside, also found that they're skin was having trouble staying where it was. They suffered from flash burns, ranging from the mild to the already dead. People found that the skin where the burns had occurred would fall off, quite literally, to the ground. The skin was only the first few layers, but it was very dangerous and very damaging.
After the blast, it was days before people in the village noticed that the blast had a strange, but not harmful side-effect. In Hyrule field, many of the trees very close to Kakariko were stripped of branches and bark on the side facing the mountain, and, behind them, their shadows were singed into the dirt. In the village, the shadows of people were permanently burned into walls, as if they stood against the buildings and been splashed with water, leaving a dry mark in the outline of themselves.
This was the first calling card of the Necare, just a little hi-we're-your- new-neighbors type welcome.
---------------------------------------------------
The Gunslinger felt the muzzle of the gun press into the small of his back. "I'd suggest we leave," said the voice in his ear. "We got some business ta discuss."
He sat at the bar of the Villa Rica, a small wooden house in South Clock Town. It was run by Alexa, a smallish woman with auburn hair down past her waist. She stood behind the bar, but seemed more interested in the money she counted than the man to her right. The room around them was filled with the terrible smell of home-rolled cigarettes and the almost obscene sound of men laughing. They sat around the small circular tables, playing cards and drinking anything that was liquid.
He turned to look over his shoulder at the voice behind him. There sat a man, thin and wiry, in flannel shirt and canvas breeches. The shirt had almost soaked clear with sweat and the man's face was rather unpleasant. He grinned at the Gunslinger, his breath even worse than the smoke around them, almost acidic. The man was missing teeth and the few he did have were in terrible shape. Above them sat a handle bar mustache in which particles of food stood out prominently, and a bulbous nose, which had been broken at least once before. The eyes were like clouded, blue marbles sunken into their sockets just under the line of greasy hair in the small round face.
"Please, Belirao."
THE NOSE, Gunslinger thought. He studied the face of the man next to him, adding up his worth slowly. His eyes searched those next to him as if to bore down into his head and find the truth behind the man. After a few seconds he'd made his plan. AND THE ARM. The Getan next to him hadn't noticed that the Gunslinger understood him. Belirao, was Getan insult, roughly meaning "foreigner". He understood perfectly well, and would break two things for that remark, and for taking him as a fool.
"If you say so," he said, standing. "Alexa, I'll be right back."
"Hey, you better pay me," the little woman's head snapped up like she'd been smacked.
"Have I ever skipped out?" he held out his empty hands.
"I know where you live, Gunslinger." she pointed a small finger at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back." he turned toward the man who kept the gun against his stomach, hiding it in the folds of his waistcoat. "Let me guess, I go first?"
"Chu got it, Belirao." The grin widened.
Gunslinger turned and began toward the door, grimacing as the gun jammed into the base of his spine once more. He could have made his move now, but he would risk hurting someone if that gun went off. He moved forward, planning his moves carefully, it would only take a few special settings to pull off, but if that gun stayed in the small of his back he could do it.
The Getan are a detestable breed, liked by little, and for good reason. They are outlaws, ruthless and stupid with few exceptions. They are quick to kill but terrible fighters. Their learning curve is mostly a flat line, as the majority seems to be dumber than dirt. They earned their nasty reputations and lived up to them in every way possible. Every one of them seemed exactly the same to those around and are very easy to spot with their dirty ponchos and bandoleers of ammunition.
When holding someone at gun-point, it's unwise to hold the gun too close. The farther away you can get without losing accuracy, the better. The Getan apparently didn't know this, as the gun stayed placed against the back of the Gunslinger's coat. They moved through the door and into the deserted street. South Clock Town was quiet, as dead as it was ever going to get in the early hours of the morning. Somewhere, off in the distance of North Clock Town, the massive timepiece that the city seemed to revolve around ticked on and on.
"Stop," the Getan said, after a few steps. "Now, Belirao, if you don't mind, I would like these gun's you carry. These pretty gold ones right here." he began to remove one of the gold revolvers from its holster. If he was going to do it, he'd better do it now.
The Gunslinger spun to the right, his right hand shooting to the Getan's wrist, grabbing the greasy skin and holding the arm straight. His left curled into a fist as a shot ricocheted of the stone ground and sending some stone chips into the air. The fist smashed into the center of the elbow. There was a CRACK, followed by an airy POP and the Getan cried out in pain as the joint snapped the wrong direction. The left hand flattened into a cutting edge and flashed sideways, connecting with the bridge of the Getan's nose, and sending a spider-web of blood across his face.
It was over within seconds and the Gunslinger finished by grabbing the sweat soaked shirt in his fists. He stared into the Gentan's face, it was red from the nose, which seemed to have exploded rather than broken. It was twisted to the right, so that it now lay on his cheek. "Now," he hissed, pushing the Getan against the Villa Rica. "One: I just got these guns. Two: I know what Belirao means." his right fist released its grip and swung down in an arch. It thudded into the Getan's stomach, sending him to his knees.
His last night in Termina, spent getting drunk and ridding the world of filth. He grinned as he examined the edge of hand which had begun to swell slightly and turned red. He rested his palms on the butts of his new pistols and strolled back into the bat-wing door.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The muddy footprints that led from the banks of Lake Hylia and up into the Lakeside Laboratory belonged to the thing that now stood over the crumpled body of a single scientist. He had been old and quite easy to kill; his struggle had meant little to Aquarius. The blue man had seen the young Prince leave the Lab just before. He was asking about them, the Necare, and Aquarius knew it. So he'd come and put an end to this Lab Worker's help.
He'd slipped through the door and come up behind the old man. A simple flick of the wrist had spun him around and Aquarius had grabbed the man by his scrawny neck. "Ablegare," he hissed. "Aquarius Necare." then he'd opened his mouth and belched the stream of water. It shot out like a canon, from one mouth to the other. The old man had struggled for a moment, before the water overwhelmed him and he drown.
The old man had helped that, that Prince. He would be taken care of later. None of this would have happened if it weren't for that half-wit Aquarius called a sister. She'd pulled her cute little stunts with the eruptions on the mountains. That little twit had been playing around with her fire and thought she'd be cute. That stunt had been what had given them away, now Hyrule knew the Necare had come back. Not that it mattered. His brother and sister would soon be here.
By. Doc Holliday
Prologue: Fire, Ice And Gold.
"I need a hero,
I'm holding on for hero,
'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong,
and he's gotta be fast,
and he's gotta be fresh
from the fight"
--BONNIE TYLER
"I was born with a six-gun in my hand
Behind the gun, I'll make my final stand.
That's why they call me: Bad Company
And I can't deny it.
Bad Company, till the day I die."
--BAD COMPANY
High above Kakariko Village, rises the peak of Death Mountain, a massive rock upon which the race of rock-people known as Gorons live. The Gorons are a peaceful people unless provoked, and even then they are hesitant to attack. It is for that reason that the mountain's name remains a bit of a mystery. It isn't as if it is a question the people of Kakariko toil over, but it is still one that everyone stops to think about every once in a while.
On this day just after the beginning of spring, when everything was beginning to flourish in the little village of Kakariko, the mountain suddenly lived up to the fabled name. The usually docile mountain, belched a pocket of methane into the air. This was not unusual, as the magma heats trapped gases, causing them to expand past the breaking point, thus creating a boiling effect. This methane pocket, however was gigantic.
The mountain rumbled, then belched the invisible gas into the air with a deep, unearthly growl. The snarl was animalistic, seemingly threatening the tiny village and, considering what happened next, it probably was.
The peak seemed to choose that precise moment to erupt, as if the gases escaping had jarred something loose. There was another low rumble, then a bang. A flash flew across the city of Hyrule, on it's heels was an explosion that rocked the land. The very sound of the bang sent a shockwave halfway across Hyrule field. It rocked the stone walls of the Palace and decimated trees on the edge of the village
As the flames disappeared from the skies of Kakariko, those few who were unlucky enough to find themselves outside, also found that they're skin was having trouble staying where it was. They suffered from flash burns, ranging from the mild to the already dead. People found that the skin where the burns had occurred would fall off, quite literally, to the ground. The skin was only the first few layers, but it was very dangerous and very damaging.
After the blast, it was days before people in the village noticed that the blast had a strange, but not harmful side-effect. In Hyrule field, many of the trees very close to Kakariko were stripped of branches and bark on the side facing the mountain, and, behind them, their shadows were singed into the dirt. In the village, the shadows of people were permanently burned into walls, as if they stood against the buildings and been splashed with water, leaving a dry mark in the outline of themselves.
This was the first calling card of the Necare, just a little hi-we're-your- new-neighbors type welcome.
---------------------------------------------------
The Gunslinger felt the muzzle of the gun press into the small of his back. "I'd suggest we leave," said the voice in his ear. "We got some business ta discuss."
He sat at the bar of the Villa Rica, a small wooden house in South Clock Town. It was run by Alexa, a smallish woman with auburn hair down past her waist. She stood behind the bar, but seemed more interested in the money she counted than the man to her right. The room around them was filled with the terrible smell of home-rolled cigarettes and the almost obscene sound of men laughing. They sat around the small circular tables, playing cards and drinking anything that was liquid.
He turned to look over his shoulder at the voice behind him. There sat a man, thin and wiry, in flannel shirt and canvas breeches. The shirt had almost soaked clear with sweat and the man's face was rather unpleasant. He grinned at the Gunslinger, his breath even worse than the smoke around them, almost acidic. The man was missing teeth and the few he did have were in terrible shape. Above them sat a handle bar mustache in which particles of food stood out prominently, and a bulbous nose, which had been broken at least once before. The eyes were like clouded, blue marbles sunken into their sockets just under the line of greasy hair in the small round face.
"Please, Belirao."
THE NOSE, Gunslinger thought. He studied the face of the man next to him, adding up his worth slowly. His eyes searched those next to him as if to bore down into his head and find the truth behind the man. After a few seconds he'd made his plan. AND THE ARM. The Getan next to him hadn't noticed that the Gunslinger understood him. Belirao, was Getan insult, roughly meaning "foreigner". He understood perfectly well, and would break two things for that remark, and for taking him as a fool.
"If you say so," he said, standing. "Alexa, I'll be right back."
"Hey, you better pay me," the little woman's head snapped up like she'd been smacked.
"Have I ever skipped out?" he held out his empty hands.
"I know where you live, Gunslinger." she pointed a small finger at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back." he turned toward the man who kept the gun against his stomach, hiding it in the folds of his waistcoat. "Let me guess, I go first?"
"Chu got it, Belirao." The grin widened.
Gunslinger turned and began toward the door, grimacing as the gun jammed into the base of his spine once more. He could have made his move now, but he would risk hurting someone if that gun went off. He moved forward, planning his moves carefully, it would only take a few special settings to pull off, but if that gun stayed in the small of his back he could do it.
The Getan are a detestable breed, liked by little, and for good reason. They are outlaws, ruthless and stupid with few exceptions. They are quick to kill but terrible fighters. Their learning curve is mostly a flat line, as the majority seems to be dumber than dirt. They earned their nasty reputations and lived up to them in every way possible. Every one of them seemed exactly the same to those around and are very easy to spot with their dirty ponchos and bandoleers of ammunition.
When holding someone at gun-point, it's unwise to hold the gun too close. The farther away you can get without losing accuracy, the better. The Getan apparently didn't know this, as the gun stayed placed against the back of the Gunslinger's coat. They moved through the door and into the deserted street. South Clock Town was quiet, as dead as it was ever going to get in the early hours of the morning. Somewhere, off in the distance of North Clock Town, the massive timepiece that the city seemed to revolve around ticked on and on.
"Stop," the Getan said, after a few steps. "Now, Belirao, if you don't mind, I would like these gun's you carry. These pretty gold ones right here." he began to remove one of the gold revolvers from its holster. If he was going to do it, he'd better do it now.
The Gunslinger spun to the right, his right hand shooting to the Getan's wrist, grabbing the greasy skin and holding the arm straight. His left curled into a fist as a shot ricocheted of the stone ground and sending some stone chips into the air. The fist smashed into the center of the elbow. There was a CRACK, followed by an airy POP and the Getan cried out in pain as the joint snapped the wrong direction. The left hand flattened into a cutting edge and flashed sideways, connecting with the bridge of the Getan's nose, and sending a spider-web of blood across his face.
It was over within seconds and the Gunslinger finished by grabbing the sweat soaked shirt in his fists. He stared into the Gentan's face, it was red from the nose, which seemed to have exploded rather than broken. It was twisted to the right, so that it now lay on his cheek. "Now," he hissed, pushing the Getan against the Villa Rica. "One: I just got these guns. Two: I know what Belirao means." his right fist released its grip and swung down in an arch. It thudded into the Getan's stomach, sending him to his knees.
His last night in Termina, spent getting drunk and ridding the world of filth. He grinned as he examined the edge of hand which had begun to swell slightly and turned red. He rested his palms on the butts of his new pistols and strolled back into the bat-wing door.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The muddy footprints that led from the banks of Lake Hylia and up into the Lakeside Laboratory belonged to the thing that now stood over the crumpled body of a single scientist. He had been old and quite easy to kill; his struggle had meant little to Aquarius. The blue man had seen the young Prince leave the Lab just before. He was asking about them, the Necare, and Aquarius knew it. So he'd come and put an end to this Lab Worker's help.
He'd slipped through the door and come up behind the old man. A simple flick of the wrist had spun him around and Aquarius had grabbed the man by his scrawny neck. "Ablegare," he hissed. "Aquarius Necare." then he'd opened his mouth and belched the stream of water. It shot out like a canon, from one mouth to the other. The old man had struggled for a moment, before the water overwhelmed him and he drown.
The old man had helped that, that Prince. He would be taken care of later. None of this would have happened if it weren't for that half-wit Aquarius called a sister. She'd pulled her cute little stunts with the eruptions on the mountains. That little twit had been playing around with her fire and thought she'd be cute. That stunt had been what had given them away, now Hyrule knew the Necare had come back. Not that it mattered. His brother and sister would soon be here.