A/N: I own nothing except a copy of this great game. Second note: A single singer is demarked in italics "like this", while a crowd singing is demarked "like this."
They were all fools.
Fools born out of naïve optimism and noble intentions, who were unaware of the dark truths that laid underneath their feet. Oblivious to the latent danger, they looked to the future without a care for what was under their nose. But their obliviousness, while excusable and even understandable, did not change the awful reality that was dawning upon them.
Long ago, in a forgotten era on some tired battlefield, the Hero defeated The Fell Man, and once more the powers of light triumphed over the powers of darkness. But at this juncture, the Hero chose to split the soul of the Fell Man into fragments. Each fragment he scattered across time and space, destined to be forever buried in some forgotten time in some forgotten moment, passed over and neglected via the passage of time. Each of these fragments, inadvertently, were the source of the corruption of the fragile Sorceress of Time, and the origin of the war that had claimed so many lives and had taken so much innocence.
But there was a secret fragment that had also been extracted from the Fell Man's essence, a fragment that had never been told of even to the highest of the high.
The Hero had taken the most innate of the Fell Man's essence, that of his ambition and might, and had kept it under lock and key. Not trusting any era across time and space to hold this most powerful of fragments without falling to corruption and thus in turn endangering the space-time continuum, the Hero chose to leave this piece in his own era, to be held in check to the end of days by the only power that was capable of resisting it.
The Blade of Evil's Bane.
The Princess Zelda was half right. The Temple of the Sacred Sword was a monument to the Master Sword, the holiest of weapons to ever grace the Goddess' earth. A small and forgotten place, to pay tribute to the Goddesses and the magic and grace and mystery of Hyrule itself.
But it was also a prison, designed to hold the true darkness at bay. With the Master Sword as the lock and key.
Removing the Master Sword gave the heroes their greatest and only chance at defeating Cia. But it also removed the seal on the final piece of the Fell Man's essence, and in turn it began to call forth the other remaining portions of his soul. For the Darkness is patient, and can wait far longer than the light. All it needed was to wait for that moment when the light was at its dimmest, or set to extinguish, and it would be ready to return.
And now, in the midst of the supposed peace for their time, the darkness awakened.
…
He opened his eyes slowly, and looked around. He was in a small clearing in some enchanted forest. He turned around to see where he'd come from. There stood the pedestal, missing its sacred blade that had served as his lock and key. It had been the strings that tangled him forever in magic that even he could not overcome or overpower.
He sighed contently, and began to chuckle. Now the puppeteer's strings had been severed. There were no strings holding him down.
He felt a dark warmth within him as the magic that gave him strength began to return. He looked at his palms, and smiled in satisfaction as they started to glow with a dark-red fire.
He had work to do.
He let out a terrible laugh. There was a flash and a sound akin to a thunderclap, and Ganondorf vanished into the wind.
…
He opened his eyes again to the sounds of howling wind, and a gentle nipping at his exposed hands and face as the sand kicked into the air and scratched at him. He looked around. He was deep within a war-torn and water-starved land, that long ago had had the best and most hopeful of its topsoil blasted off through years of erosion and neglect and heat. He rubbed the bottom of the sole of his boot into the sand, smiling a little bit wistfully at how easily the ground stirred under his feet.
He was home.
He turned around behind him, and breathed in deeply. He felt the dark magic within him that so long had been kept in check and away from his soul, coursing through his veins. He raised a hand, and called forth the two souls from the void.
He watched with a slightly raised eyebrow as they were formed from the dust and black mist from beyond, and began to take shape. His expression turned to one of mild annoyance. They finally stepped out of that transdimensional pocket as they once more attached themselves to the mortal coil, and knelt before him. They always knelt before him.
Still, it did not hurt to have devoted allies such as this.
"Obey my every command, or else perish again." He said quietly. They looked at him reverently, and nodded in unison. And from their knees, Ghirahim and Zant stood before their master and god once more.
"Oh, most great and glorious Ganondorf, I pledge eternal loyalty to you until the end of time and then beyond," Zant said breathlessly. "However may we serve your desires?"
"You may start by dispensing with the groveling." Ganondorf replied. He frowned. "Or are you not The Usurper King?"
Cowed, Zant bowed his head and looked away. Ghirahim huffed, and examined his nails.
"Come now, Zant. It's one thing to express your devotion to the Demon King, but to slobber over him is unbefitting a man of your stature. Granted, that isn't much, but it is still something to protect."
The Twili shot him a hateful glance, but said nothing. Ghirahim turned towards Ganondorf, who was staring pensively out into the distance.
"I cannot say that I expected to come back from the void, especially considering the way that everything ended." He grinned. "Of course, I also did not expect that I would be able to serve my master faithfully."
"Your flattery is no better than his." Ganondorf finally remarked, turning to face the Demon Tribe leader. "I'm already starting to regret raising the two of you from the dead to assist me in this quest."
That was enough to get Ghirahim to momentarily pale, and Zant to quiver in fear. Ganondorf looked around.
"This place was beautiful…once. The desert sands gleamed in the sunset, and the rock formations were like temples of long forgotten empires, worn away in the endless passage of time. Now look at it." He said, gesturing around them with a sweeping hand motion. "War. Famine. Pestilence. Countless squabbling factions, all shedding pointless blood in an effort to fight for the last drop of resources in this forsaken land. They miss the biggest picture. Everyone always does." He looked in the distance, and gestured to a small set of campfires in the distance. "We make our way there first."
"Um, oh grand and glorious leader?" Zant asked.
"Yes?" Ganondorf asked, impatience clear in his voice.
"Couldn't…couldn't you simply march into wherever it is that you wish to go yourself, and do it all alone?" Zant finally managed to ask. "The chances of them stopping you are next to none!"
Ganondorf smirked.
"Perhaps. But a chance is still a chance. And I do not intend to be undone by leaving my plans up to chance." He drew his swords, those massive and ugly Dark Swords that were so dark they did not even allow the sun to reflect off of them, and started to walk in the general direction of the campfires. "Come with me, if you wish to see the dawn of a new age."
"What are you going to do, my master?" Ghirahim asked with some curiosity.
Though he did not turn around, Ganondorf smiled. It was not a pleasant sight.
"What I do best. Hostile takeover."
…
"Hey, gimme that you flea-bitten hog!" Hooknose snarled. The Bokoblin smacked his companion upside the head, as the latter was lazily munching on a small piece of meat.
"Get bent, maggot. This is my food." The sitting Bokoblin, an ugly fellow named Roughhide, growled. He stood up, and got in the face of Hooknose. "Unless you're fixin' to take it from my dead 'ands, filth." Hooknose gave a dangerous smile.
"Don't give me ideas, worm." He said. He was discreetly reaching towards his hip as they spoke. Roughhide did not notice the danger, and instead grinned.
"What're ya gonna do, meat? Stab me?" He asked, making the utterly brilliant decision to stick his head out and forward towards Hooknose.
"Now that you mention it…" Hooknose replied.
He pulled his dagger from his hip, and plunged the blade into Roughhide's belly before the Bokolin knew what had happened. As Roughhide fell to the ground, screeching in pain, Hooknose hopped astride him and starting punching and stabbing him with his fists and blade. The rest of the camp, all consisting of similarly hungry and restless degenerates, raced in to break up the fight…and perhaps score a few shots at those that they didn't like as well.
"Oh, how positively grand."
A voice cut through the air. It was deep and sonorous, and yet condescending at the same time. As if on cue, all fighting ceased throughout the camp. The leader of the camp, a squat and rather ineffectual Moblin, stomped forward.
"Who dares ta barge inta my camp, and talk ta us like that?" He snapped.
From out of the sandy haze, a stone came whistling through the air. It struck the captain in the head with enough force to crack his skull, killing him before he hit the ground. As soon as he clattered lifelessly to the ground, Ganondorf revealed himself.
The Bokoblins were not stupid. Though they had only heard myths and stories of the tall man in red hair that was their god*, they knew that the monstrous man before them was the one that they had heard and told so much of. In unison, they all dropped their weapons and knelt. Some of them wet themselves in fear. Ganondorf stared at them, and smirked.
"Is this truly the best of life that you think you can make? Fighting and killing each other for scraps of rotting and uncooked meat?" Ganondorf asked. As he spoke, Zant and Ghirahim emerged from the mist and stood at his sides. "Long before any of you climbed out of the primordial ooze, I rode with your ancestors. I battled with the ancestors of your ancestors. They were hardy and violent and ruthless beings, and they served alongside me with might and power. With them, I forged a nation out of the ashes of the old. And the new age was glorious, and there was food for all." He narrowed his eyes. "Am I to believe that, in a few generations, the Bokoblin has been reduced to a fringe of society? Pushed to the edge of extinction?"
"No, your holiness!" One of them, a rather stout looking one, said. He stood up and stared Ganondorf in the eye. "We want to prove that we are to be feared!" Ganondorf smirked.
"What is your name?" He asked.
"Deathclaw." The Bokoblin spit, terribly proud of his violent and dark name. Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.
"Who is your commander?" He asked. Deathclaw pointed to the still form of the Moblin laying on the ground, bleeding from the forehead. Ganondorf stepped over the corpse, absently kicking it as he did. He stood over Deathclaw, delighting in the fact that he towered over this creature. "Do I have to ask again?" He asked quietly.
Deathclaw shook his head. Ganondorf nodded, and then turned towards the rest of the camp.
"Put no faith in your former leaders, for they are soft and selfish creatures that were never built to understand or handle the totality of war. Put your faith only in one being, and from there you shall be rewarded with spoils of war beyond your wildest dreams." He paused. "Put your faith in me."
In unison, the Bokoblins raised their weapons and roared in unison. Ganondorf smirked.
"Good choice." He turned to Deathclaw. "Where are your rivals?" He asked. Deathclaw pointed to the north.
"A camp of Bokoblins, commanded by Lizalfos and Aeralfos." He pointed to the south. "A command of dark magic. The remnants of the Sorceress, army of bones and darkness. Darknuts lead that faction." But the Bokoblin saved the most of his contempt when he pointed straight ahead, towards the west. "The Bulblin confederacy* lies directly ahead. Those mudakka* prevent all from entering the Outlands."
Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.
"They fancy themselves a government, hmm?" He mused. He nodded. "Fair enough." He turned to Ghirahim and Zant. "We will divide and conquer. Zant, you will take half of the camp and lead them to the Lizalfos camp. Ghirahim, you will take the other camp and take them to the Darknut camp. Kill those that resist, convert those who wish to join our cause. Make it known loud and across the land that the Demon King has returned…I will deal with the Bulblins."
"M-master and grandest Ganondorf?" Zant asked hesitantly.
"What?" Ganondorf asked.
"You-you didn't leave any soldiers for…um…" Zant said.
Ganondorf gave him a moment to think about who exactly it was that he was questioning.
"N-never mind, sire." Zant said. Ganondorf cleared his throat.
"I have no patience for those that hesitate on the battlefield. If I find anyone dead with a clean sword, I will stamp on the head of their worthless corpse." He said. "Go forth." He said quietly. A roar went up through the camp, and as if conducted by an invisible hand the forces split in two and headed for the north and the south. That left the Demon King alone. He watched them go with a small smirk.
He heard a wheezing sound, a gasping and dying noise. He slowly turned to see Roughhide crawling on the ground, bleeding profusely on the ground from multiple stab wounds and several blunt force traumas across his face and upper body. Ganondorf walked over to him, and stood above the pathetic creature. He sighed. He hated to see this sort of thing.
He lifted his foot, and stomped his boot as hard as he could on the creature's head. He felt his boot go through to the ground, and shook his head.
He had no time for weakness. Those that could fight would fight. Those that could not, died. It was the law of the jungle.
And he was the King of the Beasts.
…
Ghirahim found himself easily running ahead of the pack of Bokoblins, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the fact that they were a malnourished and utterly pathetic lot. It was true that they were the best that his lord and master could do, but did they have to be so useless? He figured that he would be more than enough to do the job himself.
They burst into the Lizalfos camp shortly after the camp was settling down for midday meals, creating a moment of surreal nature: instead of attacking, both sides stared at each other with stunned expressions, as if neither could quite comprehend the audacity of an outnumbered group of Bokoblins suicide-rushing a heavily-guarded position like this. Ghirahim cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen! A good day to you all. I come bringing the tidings of the great and glorious King of Darkness, the Lord and Master of the Triforce of Power! Rejoice, for I am the herald of your ascension! Ganondorf, the Demon King, has returned! And he has come to liberate you from your poverty and your pathetic standing in society. Shall you recant your false beliefs, and worship the one true deity of power? Shall you serve your new master in his great glory?" He asked, in a manner similar to a farmers' market salesman. There was an incredulous pause. One of the Lizalfos, a nasty-looking fellow with a blinded eye that had a milky film glazed over it, stomped forward.
"I don't know who thisssss Ganondorf isssss." It hissed. "But thou art misssstaken. The Lizzzzalfossss and their men sssserve one massster and one masssster alone." Ghirahim looked genuinely confused.
"Oh? And who might that be?" He asked. The Lizalfos sneered, and pointed to his chest.
"That would be me, you ssssssstupid man." It said. Ghirahim smiled pleasantly.
"Ah! I see." He said. "A fair argument."
The Lizalfos grinned, licking its lips. It was still smiling when Ghirahim leapt forward with inhuman speed, drawing his sword and stabbing it through the side of the Lizalfos commander's neck, so deep that the hilt of the blade hit the side of the creature's skull. Ghirahim yanked upwards, freeing his blade while splitting the dead creature's skull. The Lizalfos hit the ground. He wiped his blade on the tunic of the dead Lizalfos, and turned towards the stunned garrison. He smiled pleasantly.
"And that is my counter-argument. Does anyone else have any objections?"
Somewhat fearfully, the Lizalfos-led camp decided that there was no objection to the words of this foppish and yet altogether terrifying man.
…
"AIYEYEYEYEYEYEYIIII!"
Zant shrieked like a banshee, as he hacked and slashed through the army of Stalchildren like a manic wheat thresher. The forces had not listened to the words of the Twili, as Stalchildren were creatures that were raised to follow their orders unquestioningly, even when the opponent had a superior argument. That left Zant forced to deal with things the old-fashioned way: get to the shaman and the Darknut that was in charge of everything, and make them see things his way. Preferably without bloodshed of course…but then again…
Zant drew his second sword, and lopped the head off of a Stalmaster. The Bokoblins that had come with him were tired and underequipped, and were willing to let Zant do the majority of the heavy lifting in this fight. It got to the point where Zant was the only one fighting through the Stalchildren, as he made a way to the inner tents of the camp. He felt cuts and pricks from their blades, but those injuries only served to strengthen him. He was the Usurper King. These beasts were but ants beneath his boot.
He reached the center of the camp, and faced the command of the force. There was a quartet of Darknuts, all standing at the ready, protecting the Poe that was keeping the Stalchildren alive and animated. They weren't looking like they were going to be intimidated easily. He'd just have to try harder.
Zant removed his helmet, so that they could see him face to face. He figured that those Darknut fighters had never seen a Twili before. His gaunt and long-necked face was enough to get them to go rigid with uncertainty. But Zant had another (if unintentional) strength: over the course of his fighting, as he had hacked and slashed through the enemy and allowed himself to be caught up in the moment…he had started to froth at the mouth.
He grinned, eyes widen, teeth bared, and drool and froth leaking down the sides of his lips. He leaned forward, and began to twist around his back so that he was like a corkscrew and facing them while his head was upside down. He let out a sort of moaning, hissing noise, and cackled.
"Do you wish to go against the will of the Demon King Ganondorf, maggots?" He whinnied.
The Darknuts, armored from head to toe, looked at him. And then they looked at each other. And then they all sheathed their swords. They were warriors first. They were fighters that were determined to hold the line against any that threatened them or crossed them or otherwise claimed to attack them. And though they worshipped the Demon King as their deity, there were plenty of times when false prophets had made their presence known and had proclaimed that they were the new voice of Ganondorf.
But, then again, all of the previous "prophets" didn't cut through their armies like butter, didn't shriek like a banshee, and didn't froth at the mouth while staring at them like he was going to try to eat them.
Perhaps they had better give him the benefit of the doubt.
…
He strolled leisurely into the camp, ignoring the warnings of the pikemen at the gate ordering him to identify himself. He could almost feel the temperature of the air descend, as the many Bulblins stared at him in mixtures of horror, awe, and even contempt. That last one was rather surprising. He had not expected that.
He made his way into the center of the camp. A large firepit burned in the mid-day heat, serving as a way to remove waste and keep warm. It would last throughout the night, when the sun would set and the howling and freezing winds would rip through the desert like a vengeful spirit. But he was not interested in pausing and observing the inner mysteries of nature. He had work to do.
One of the Bulblins approached him, his spear drawn.
"We don't taken kindly to outsiders invading our camps without so much as saying hello." He growled. Ganondorf wrinkled his nose at the sight of this creature. The disrespect was truly staggering. For a brief moment, he debated slashing the thing's throat, and then killing everyone else in the camp. But that was not what he had come for.
"Bring me your leader." Ganondorf said. The Bulblin sneered.
"Lord King Bulblin does not make time for outlanders!" He said. Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.
"Does he make time for the Demon King?" He asked. The Bulblin captain went noticeably pale, even with the green pallor of its skin, and gulped.
"H-he is not present." The Bulblin said. "He will return soon with the hunting party."
"Interesting." Ganondorf said. "Well then, in the meantime it would appear that I have to settle. Are you the acting commander of this…confederacy?" He asked, his disdain radiating off of each word. The Bulblin captain puffed up his chest.
"Aye." He said. The Demon King nodded.
"Good."
He flash-stepped forward, backhanding the creature with the jeweled gauntlet on his right arm. He felt the cheekbone crumple under his fist, and the Bulblin went flying through the air. Ganondorf stalked forward, watching as the bleeding creature got back to his feet.
"Admirable of you to stand against me, boy." Ganondorf said. "But even you must know the futility of it. You cannot possibly win against me. None of the beings in this confederacy of yours can. You might as well fight against a hurricane."
"I can and I…will stand against you." The Bulblin said. He shakily pointed his spear towards Ganondorf. "You will not bully me or the Bulblin race like we are your mindless minions. We are…a proud people, and you gaze upon a hero!" The Bulblin sneered in defiance. Ganondorf laughed.
"You? A hero? Don't be absurd." He said. "I've outlived more heroes than you could possibly imagine, boy. And believe me when I say this, uttered from the very depth of the fibers of my being. You? You are an ant, not a hero." He thought about drawing his Dark Swords, but then decided against it. "Do you sincerely wish to throw your life away, in front of these men?"
The Bulblin captain growled, and charged with a defiant roar. Ganondorf caught the spear, twirled around and threw the Bulblin captain away. Now holding the creature's spear, he broke it over his knee like a twig. The Bulblin staggered back to his feet, and threw a left hook. Ganondorf blocked it with his knee, feeling the creature's knuckles break on impact with his joint. He then lashed his hand out, grabbing the Bulblin by the neck. He hoisted the creature up into the air, so that its feet were dangling up high.
"Last chance." Ganondorf intoned. The Bulblin captain, eye swollen shut, stared at Ganondorf with hate in his eyes. He hocked something deep in his throat and then spit directly in the Demon King's face. Ganondorf sighed. "Very well."
He threw the creature down hard to the ground, breaking its back on impact. Ganondorf then knelt down atop the creature, and proceeded to throw punches to the creature's face and throat and chest. He could sense the fight leaving the hearts of the rest of the Bulblin camp, as a dawning sense of horror filled their every being. He could feel the life leaving the pathetic being's body with each strike. And he kept going. He could hear one of them, in a pathetic attempt at mercy, plead for him to stop. And he kept going.
Something told him to stop.
He didn't listen.
The Bulblin Lord King returned shortly thereafter, riding a tamed wildbeast like the rest of his trusted cavalry. He noticed that something was terribly wrong when he saw that the archers who were watched the camp from their battlements were not at their posts. The rudimentary gate to their camp was lightly swinging open. He ordered his men to keep their swords drawn, and with a roar ordered them to breach his own keep.
There, standing in the center of the camp, standing right in the middle of the campfire, was a man of terrible size and power. The fire burned bright and mightily, and yet not a flame licked his body or scorched his clothes. It was as if it was afraid to touch him. The Bulblin Lord King knew who it was that stood in the midst of his camp, and felt an ice dagger spike his heart. He looked down at the foot of the fire, and let out a wail of agony at the sight of the bloodied corpse before him. He dismounted from his wildbeast, and raced forward to the body. Collapsing to his aging knees, he cradled the body of the fallen Bulblin and sobbed heartily. He heard footsteps, and saw that the Fell Man was now standing over him. His tears turned from agony to rage.
"You…DEMON!" He managed to snarl through gritted teeth.
"Flattery will get you nowhere." Ganondorf replied. He gestured dismissively towards the dead Bulblin. "He was the foolish one. The rest of your army was smart."
The Bulblin Lord King stood to his feet, and even then only came up to the Fell Man's chest.
"My army…will cut you to pieces." He managed to spit. Ganondorf laughed.
"You may try. And you will fail. But rest assured…my army will cut you to pieces." The Demon King said. He gestured behind the Bulblin Lord King. Now, as if from out of nowhere, the Bulblin camp was surrounded by Bokoblins, Lizalfos, Aeralfos, Darknuts, and Stalchildren. All of the forces that the Bulblin Lord King had struggled to contain in this hellish landscape were now at his doorstep. In his kingdom. In his house.
Two figures, one preening like a peacock and one with lunacy radiating off of him, stood by the side of the Demon King. They stared at the Bulblin Lord King, and sneered derisively at this supposedly mighty king. Ganondorf smirked, and spoke for all to hear.
"Bow to your king."
And they did.
…
Later that night, as the Bulblin were kept under watch by the armies recruited by Ghirahim and Zant, the brain trust of the new coalition met under cover of darkness. Ganondorf stood facing the dark expanse of the desert, gazing up at the stars as Ghirahim and Zant came up to him.
"A most excellent day's work, if I do say so myself." Ghirahim finally remarked. He roughly pushed the Bulblin Lord King forward, as the beast was currently in chains. "Three armies, melded into one. Only you could do it, and with such ease!" He said to Ganondorf.
"I imagine, most glorious and mighty leader, that our next step is to crush the forces in that pathetic land of Hyrule?" Zant asked. "I highly doubt that they are capable of fighting another war so shortly after the first. That lovesick witch, pathetic as she was, was certainly useful for something after all."
"Heard she was killed." Ghirahim said dismissively. "So sad. Boo hoo, I think I might just weep."
"We go to the Valley of the Seers." Ganondorf said quietly.
"To the north?" Zant asked. "Why do that? Hyrule is to the southwest of where we are!"
"I know." Ganondorf said.
"Then why are we going to the northeast?" Ghirahim asked. "Isn't the Sorceress of Time dead?"
"She is." Ganondorf said.
"Then why, my dear and wonderous leader, are we-"
"Do you have something to smoke?" Ganondorf asked, turning towards the Bulblin leader.
"What?" The Bulblin commander asked, thoroughly confused.
"Do. You. Have. Something. To smoke?" Ganondorf asked.
"Erm…we have wrapped cigars. Hand-hand wrapped cigars." The Bulblin Lord King admitted somewhat lamely. Ganondorf sighed.
"It'll do, I suppose. Do you have one on you?" He asked. The Bulblin Lord King nodded. "Where?"
The Bulblin Lord King gestured to the satchel he had slung over his right shoulder and resting at his left hip. Ganondorf nodded, and Ghirahim rifled through it to find a stogie. Ganondorf took it, cut it, and then placed it in his mouth. He held his thumb underneath the cigar, and a small flame flicked out from his thumb, igniting the cigar. He puffed a few times in obvious bliss, seemingly oblivious to Zant's and Ghirahim's increasing agitation.
"M-master Ganondor-" Zant began, but was cut off.
"The Sorceress of Time still lives." Ganondorf said. "From a certain point of view. Her other half has usurped her position. But she remains in the Valley of the Seers, still holding onto something."
"T-the Triforce of Power, yes?" Zant asked. "But, but you are near-omniscient without it! You can raise the dead! You can unite quarrelsome races beneath your boot! You are unkillable! You are-"
"Yes, yes. Very flattering of you to state the obvious, Zant." Ganondorf replied dismissively. "That doesn't change the fact that this…girl has something of mine. And I'd like it back."
He puffed once more on his cigar, and turned to face them all. The light from his cigar illuminated his face in a menacing combination of shadows and light.
"I think it's only fair that we pay her a visit…don't you?"
A/N: UH OH.
HYRULIAN CODEX
Bokoblin Belief Systems – The Bokoblins are a rather nasty species, intemperate by nature and annoyingly obtuse. It doesn't seem likely that they would have a belief system, and yet surprisingly there is a sense of religiosity in their communities. However, it is mostly a sense of spirit-based belief, in that they ascribe deity-status to elements of the earth, such as trees or rivers or even other such elements. However, they treat the Demon King as the Lord above all, so the physical sight of him would immediately cause them to abandon their systems to obey his every command.
Bulblin Confederacy – Bulblins are a proud and rather complicated race. Traditionally, they have been at odds with the Hyrulian people, and plenty of blood has been spilt amongst the two sides. However, over time some of the more enlightened of the Bulblin commanders and Lord Kings started to analyze why it is that, institutionally, they continually were defeated by the Hyrulians and the armies of light. Their conclusion was that, instead of being a disconnected band of rather disjointed and quarrelsome tribes, perhaps the best way to stay solvent as a people is to form a loose government that they all ascribe to. The Bulblin "confederacy" is a rather recent development, and they have almost completely cut off contact with Hyrule in recent years. While on one hand this is to prevent the Hyrulians from discovering what they were up to and perhaps squashing them in this transitory period, on the other it is also due to their focus on making sure that they've ironed out the kinks in their new experiment before letting the world know what they're up to.
It is a fragile time period in the Bulblin race, and it is ripe for exploitation…provided the exploiter has a proper amount of might and charisma.
"mudakka" – A Bokoblin curse word. As Bokoblin language doesn't really correlate well with Hylian or Zoruta or Goronese or even Eldic (the basic language spoken between all races, supposedly a language the Goddesses themselves gave the living creatures on the earth to use), it is difficult to properly translate. Roughly translated, however, the word means "one who violently fornicates with one's own mother."