Ayame and five other Gerudos stood with their backs against the rocks of the desert. Behind them, was the great Hylian military. The Gerudos were thieves, and their best weapons being the swords and spears they held in their hands. But this didn't bother Ayame's group. The Gerudos had found Ayame, but being there was a war going on, everyone ignored her past, pretending the murder never happened. They needed her skills, and would punish her after the war was over. If it ever ended. Her group had their hoods up, and masks covering their noses and mouths, dressed all in black. A male Gerudo named Naoto quickly looked behind the rock and turned back. He nodded to his group. The six of them nodded back, and kneeled down low to the ground. Naoto put one finger up…two…three. In an instant, the six of them ran across the desert sand, like swift floating shadows.
Ayame saw ahead of her, a helmet. She focused on it, until she saw the shine of sweaty flesh. Still running, she reached into her cloak and grabbed a hold of two daggers, one in each hand. Before the unsuspecting Hylian could react, she whipped the daggers out and threw one into the Hylians neck. The Hylian gargled in his own blood as Ayame ran past, taking her dagger back. She threw the next dagger into a Hylian's eye, running past and taking that one back as well. She jumped into a trench, throwing her daggers at every Hylian she saw. Some of her daggers bounced off their helmets, but most managed to hit their targets. Seeing that this group was heavily armored, she pulled out her Chisa-katana and started deflecting arrows that were being shot at her. She didn't scream or talk…she didn't make a sound. She remembered what she was taught. The less noise you make, the less amount of enemies who know where you are. She executed about ten Hylians, and then jumped out of the trench. She ran towards another trench, which was full of rotting corpses. She jumped into it and ducked down. This is where they were supposed to go…but where was everyone? She thought for sure she had moved too slowly and that everyone was going to meet her here. Perhaps they had gone ahead? But where? Ayame refused to panic. She ripped off a piece of cloth from one of the corpses beside her, and wiped the disgusting Hylian blood off of her sword and daggers.
Suddenly, a cloaked Gerudo fell into the trench. He landed face down, his back covered in blood. Ayame crawled to him, and turned the fallen Gerudo over. It was Naoto. Ayame leaned in close to his ear and whispered to him "Naoto, what happened? Where are the others?" "Gone Ayame…" Ayame gave a short gasp. Her heart stopped beating for a moment. How was it possible? They had trained so hard, they were the best! How had they been defeated? "Run Ayame, or the Hylians will find you and they will kill you." "Run Ayame. Because the Gerudo will find you, and they will kill you." With that, his eyes rolled back and he went limp. Ayame let go of him and leaned back against the wall of the trench. "Run…" Always running away. Her mind went blank. She held onto his hand.
"You there! Get up!" A Hylian soldier stood by the trench, and held the tip of his sword at her head. She stood up, not turning to face him. Two soldiers jumped in to grab her. She wasn't going to run. She lifted her head a little, and saw two soldiers examining Naoto's body. The silence had ended. "Leave him alone!" she shouted and charged at the soldiers. She slit their throats and as she went to grab Naoto's body, three other Hylian soldiers grabbed her. Then she felt something heavy hit the back of her head. She felt her own blood trickle down her head and neck. Everything became blurry, and then darkness.
Sirithe lay on his "bed" in the trench. Technically he wasn't on the front, but rather a trench some yards behind the front trench, for the front soldiers to sleep in, and it wasn't a bed but a pile of sand he built up. He had his armor nearby ready to jump in if the front got pushed back.
It seemed doubtful, it had been a dead stalemate here since he arrived here with his squadron, the Wolfpack. His sword and shield lay near his armor. He loved the design on his shield, a wolf's head with an inverted Triforce in it's mouth.
He clenched his teeth and rolled over trying to block out the non-stop sound of Gerudo artillery landing. First day here three of his squad were killed by the shrapnel that were formed when the large pieces of metal hit the ground.
Giving sleep up as a lost cause he sat up and loosened his tunic. He slipped it off and threw it in the corner. He stood there in his undershirt and pants and grabbed his armor. He put on the chest piece, and the legs. He slid the arm guards on and then his gloves.
Last he put on his helmet, attached his sword and sheath to his left hip, hoisted his shield on his left arm and headed toward the front trench. He kept his head low, ready to dive if any shrapnel or anything else came his way.
He made it to the front trench without incident and slid into it. Right now was a rare quiet point in there, no Gerudo charging it, and no Hylians charging the Gerudo. He looked around and saw his friend Breed, he walked over to him and waved.
Getting within hearing range he muttered "What's going on, when's our next worthless charge?"
"Better watch the way you talk Sirithe, someone may turn you in for lesser treason, I'd hate to see you in Kakariko." Breed replied.
"Point taken, but right now all I meant was every little bit we get on a charge we lose later when they charge." Sirithe said.
"I suppose you're right, but still be careful. Anyways, we're due to charge within a few minutes, why are you up here, weren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Breed said, then inquired.
"With all this fun happening who can sleep?" Sirithe sarcastically asked.
He saw Breed grin and nod before he heard the horn that meant to charge. Unsheathing his sword he ran out of the trench, weaving his way to the nearest Gerudo trench.
He lost sight of Breed when a large piece of shrapnel came near them, he wasn't sure how, but he knew Breed was dead. He made it to the trench a few minutes later and jumped in.
It was a small trench, but nonetheless had two Gerudo in it. He swung towards one as he jumped and saw him fall, the odds were even now. The remaining Gerudo swung at him, and Sirithe raised his shield in a position to parry.
There was a loud clang of metal on metal as the sword collided with the shield. He made a retaliatory slice but to no avail, the Gerudo jumped back out of harm's way.
Sirithe didn't give the Gerudo a chance to retailiate but stabbed out at him. He was rewarded with a grunt and saw blood pouring from a wound in the Gerudo's stomach. The Gerudo went down and Sirithe let loose a sigh of relief.
That sigh was premature as he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Had his shield not been attached to his armor it would have dropped to the sand floor.
He whirled around and saw the Gerudo he thought he had killed behind him, and a dagger in the side of his left shoulder.
He swung his sword at the Gerudo and was rewarded with the sight of the Gerudo's head rolling along in the sand, leaving a trail of blood.
He climbed out of the trench and began his way back to the Hylian trenches to get patched up. He walked on a weavy line, weavy this time because he was in pain and struggling to remain conscious.
He saw the trench and dropped in calling for a medic. One came to him almost immediately, and took off his shoulder armor. He pulled the dagger out and Sirithe barely kept from screaming through the pain, this stupid war, caused by the stupidness of the "government" had now injured both his shoulders, and lost him his best friend.
The medic sent him back to the rest trench, telling him he would be fine in a few days. Sirithe didn't care, he just wanted this hellish day to be over...
Albert was trapped in a cellar of a noble's manor. He had discovered that he exsists 300 years past his time. He wondered how he could still be in top physical condition, but he decided he would figure that out later. For now, he had to get out of this cell, find his equipment, and leave.
He looked around the room he was in. It wasn't a comfortable room; then again, the last thing on the noble's mind is his prisoner's comfort. The door had been barred shut with a 2x4 from the outside, and 2 guards were stationed outside of that. There wasn't any windows, but judging by the stillness outside, it was night. Graveyard hour, Albert thought to himself. Perfect.
He decided now was a good time to leave. He looked at the door, and he charged at it, stopping before ramming it to turn around and fling his butt into the door, a technique he likes to call "The Flying Anus". The 2x4 snapped outside, and the door with it. The guards were on the alert, ready to aprehend him, but Albert, being a more seasoned fighter, beat them into submission.
After flinging the guards into the room, Albert began searching for his equipment. He didn't want to bring too much attention to himself, but luckily he was wearing his black clothes. Using the shadows as cover, Albert tried finding a way out of the cellar.
After searching for a few minutes, he grew tired, but he didn't give up. He eventually found the staircase that lead upstairs. he ventured into the Grand Hall; It was decorated with Gold and Crimson Color, complete with a marble staircase and a portrait of the noble's ancestor.
Albert began climbing the stairs, and found himself right outside the noble's bedroom. He was wondering why there weren't any guards waiting for him in the hall. For good measure, he found a logger's axe shaft that could be used as a combat staff. He entered the noble's room.
The room wasn't much different from the grand hall; gold and crimson everywhere. He noticed a big heap of something lying on the bed. He crept closer to find out it was the noble himself. He looked much fatter than his decendant, and very much out of shape. He could not supress his laughter watching his belly rise up and down.
When the man awoke, he fell out of the bed, and began calling the guards, but there were no guards that came. So, he decided, as a noble, he'll handle it himself. He grabbed a knife from his dresser, and the 2 combatants began to spar.
The fatter man lunged at Albert, who sucessfully parried the attack and cleverly swung the staff square in the gutt of the man. He fell over, but quickly got up, madder than ever. He began fighting wildly, and Albert had no choice but to block. They eventually made way to the balcony 2 stories off the ground.
The man used his belly to push Albert back, until Albert was at the edge of the balcony, touching the railing. The noble laughed hysterically, and thrust downward at Albert's unprotected shoulder. He ducked, sending the man toppling forward, and putting him at the edge of the balcony. Albert had one shot. He ran forward, and flung his butt at the man. The impact caused the railing to give, sending the fat noble falling to the ground. He landed with a muffled thud, groaning a few seconds later.
Albert, satisfied with his work, ran back to the room. He found over his bed 2 swords. They weren't the swords he was familiar with, but he took them anyway. Engraved on them were: "Grayswandir-Alvein" and "Fenrir-Alvein". He could not believe his eyes; these were his family's most prized weapons!
He quietly snuck out through the front, and sucessfully escaped, only having to deal with one lone guard. He looked at the wreckage he caused. This is one night that fat noble will never forget, Albert thought. Maybe he should exercise more. Turning, and chuckling under his breath, he strode into the nightlife.