AUTHOR'S NOTE: Recently, I reached a high point in my writing career. For those of you who don't know, I do have a Twitter. There's an account on Twitter called FanFiction_txt and they tweet entertaining fanfiction reviews and quotes. You can probably see where this is leading. On January 28th, my trusted friend and editor Captain Rodriguez sent me a link, and I just about had a heart attack. The Account had tweeted a review of my first story! This is what I write for, is seeing somebody out there get a kick out of my work. I even got the chance to talk to the reviewer myself, and my friend who introduced him to it. A special thanks goes out to both of them!
This chapter is most likely one of my favorite chapters yet, and I'm slowly returning to my old ways. Expect more frequent updates (please don't bite me in the ass, past statements), and the quality of the story may pick up in terms of speed. The first couple of chapters felt kind of slow and trudgy, but we're getting there.
Anyway, here's to you guys. Remember to read, review, and most importantly, enjoy!
"Cheeb? Are you okay?" Link called down the stairwell. The echoes of the small Kikwi's screams reverberated off the walls. Groose stumbled behind Link, pushing him out of the way to travel down.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Link asked, smashed against the wall by Groose's shoulder.
"I need to find Cheeb. I wish he would stop getting lost like this." Shoving Link into the wall, he bolted down the stairs, leaving only Link standing in a pale light from the lantern.
"Well shit…" Link muttered to himself, brushing his clothes off. He didn't notice the shadow forming behind him. A cold, covered hand reached around Link's mouth. He struggled as a dark robe cloaked around him. In a second, he was gone, the lantern clattering to the ground in his place. The light was extinguished.
"Cheeb?" Groose leapt down the stairs, his heart pounding against his toned, rock hard chest. It was important to stay in condition. For the ladies, he liked to say. That being said, Groose only knew four girls from Skyloft, one of which was imprisoned by a Demon Lord. Did Fi count as a girl? Groose didn't really know. Groose eventually reached the conclusion that if gelatin counted as a gender, Fi would probably fall under that.
As Groose reached the bottom of the stairs, he jumped off and landed on the ground. He held his fists up, ready to fight. His guard dropped as he saw a body laying on the floor, illuminated only by a glowing blade at his side. Walking over to it, he watched the body stir and twitch. As Groose stepped closer, the hand grasped the blade's handle very slowly, as not to draw attention to the gesture.
Groose took one step too far. The body bolted up, blade in hand. He seemingly disappeared, only to reappear behind Groose. He swung the blade around to Groose's neck, grasping it with two hands.
"No! Wait!" Groose screamed. "You… you can't kill me! I'm the hero of this story! I have this awesome pompadour! I got a mention on fanfiction_txt's Twitter! Did I mention my pompadour? It's pretty awesome!"
"Groose?" The blade dropped, and a hand rested on his shoulder.
"Oh, Ghirahim, it's you!" Groose spoke. He'd recognize that flamboyant voice anywhere. "So… this is where you went to?"
"Yeah, there was… a trap door in the ceiling."
"Oh, so have you seen Cheeb?"
"Actually, he fell on top of me."
"So you know where he is?"
"Well, after he hit me, I passed out. When I woke up, he was gone. I'm not sure where he went, though."
"Well, let's go see!" Groose marched ahead, straight into the darkness. Ghirahim followed after. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim formed a small light in the shape of-
"Let me guess: it's a diamond, isn't it?" Groose asked.
"Yes, how did you know?" Ghirahim questioned Groose, as he hadn't even turned around to look.
"I've noticed, you have a strange affixation with the shape."
Groose and Ghirahim walked down the now visible hallway, their steps echoing off the stone walls. Groose turned his head to watch the walls pass by as he walked. There were red words inscribed on the walls. They told a grim, dark tale of corruption. That's what Groose thought, at least. He couldn't actually read them, he was just looking at the pictures. There was a really happy guy, then a really sad guy, then a really angry guy. There were little people walking away from him. There was like a robot or something, too. It kind of reminded him of… of… it reminded him of something. Groose couldn't put his finger on it.
As they approached the end of the hallway, Groose could see a faint light flickering up ahead. His pace quickened as he approached the end of the tunnel. As he reached the room, he quickly surveyed the area. The first thing Groose noticed was the chest in the center of the room. His adventurous instincts kicked in, and he began to walk towards the chest. He watched his surroundings, ever so cautious of a trap. He finally reached the chest, and lifted the lid up.
Suddenly, a hand shot out of the ground. Then there were two. Soon, an entire army of cursed Bokoblin had surrounded Groose. He frantically hummed the jingle, then pulled out his item. He held in his hand a rusty glove with a strange, smooth chunk of ore in the palm. A black and red arrow design adorned the top of the glove.
"What the hell is this!?" Groose screamed aloud, panic in his voice.
"That is the glove of Coarstle." A cursed Bokoblin spoke up, his jaw clacking every time he moved his mouth. A stream of bloody drool began to roll down his cheek. "The ancient leader of this Cistern had his magical powers of telekinesis infixed into this very glove, and we as the sole remaining followers of Coarstle shall guard it with our lives."
Groose took a step back, fastening the glove around his hand as he did. Whatever this thing was, it had better help him. He held it out at the Bokoblins. Nothing happened. He shook it. Still nothing. Maybe it needed some magic words?, he thought.
Groose held out the glove once more, focusing all his energy on three words. "Klaatu… verata… ni…" A long silence followed.
Shit.
As the cursed Bokoblin laughed at his loss of memory, Groose shook his head. The Bokoblin then slowly began to move towards him, limping and trudging at him until he was backed up against the wall. He was doomed. He held up his hands to cover his face, and more importantly, his pompadour. As he held the glove up, he felt it begin to vibrate. His glove violently rattled around on his hand, and he held it out to look at it.
A Bokoblin screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Groose saw a twisted chunk of metal fly towards him. "Goddess be damned! My hip implant! Shit!" he screamed, writhing around on the ground. The other Bokoblins stared at Groose, who was now holding the metal in his hand. He held it out in front of him, slowly edging his way though the crowd. He reached the end of the room, and stopped to look behind him.
"Fear the Pompadour!" he screamed, throwing the twisted metal piece at the crowd. It lodged itself in a Bokoblin's eye socket, which the Bokoblin didn't seem to mind. Groose pointed to his pompadour, then spun around and bolted down the hallway. He hadn't even noticed that Ghirahim had vanished.
Link slowly faded into his senses, like a specter returning from the grave. His eyes sharpened along with the rest of his senses. The first thing he could see was the sight of a little Kikwi tied to a pole, as was another man to a separate one. He looked like the type to say fabulous a lot… wait a minute… Link recognized that Kikwi and fabulous man! Link attempted to reach out to the both of them, but found that he too was bound tightly. His mouth was not inhibited however. He called out to Cheeb in a hushed voice.
"Cheeb. Cheeb!"
The Kikwi stirred from his slumber. That stir turned to a jolt as Cheeb realized the severity of his situation. He began to kick his feet back and forth frantically, bending the pole in the process. Link made a "shh" noise, but Cheeb didn't play attention.
A weight suddenly clamped down on the pole. Cheeb was frozen with fear as a pale face surrounded by a dark cloak lowered down in front of him. Perched from atop the pole, he draped the robe around Cheeb's bonds. "Hello. Do you know who I am?" he said. His voice made the Kikwi shudder.
"N-no… Who are you?"
The pale face gave no verbal response, only a slight chuckle. He swung around Cheeb, disappearing along with the ropes. Cheeb fell to the ground, quickly rolling up into a ball.
"Oh, what fun!" a voice rang out. Link could only watch in shock. The cloaked figure reappeared behind Cheeb, and gave him a swift kick. He was sent flying into the air, screeching at the top of his little Kikwi lungs. The man seemingly dissipated and reformed up in the air. He did a quick spin, raising his leg just enough to smash the Kikwi in the face, and send him flying again. He repeated this over and over again. His chuckle slowly grew to a wicked laugh, amused with the Kikwi's pain.
"Let him go!" Link finally called out. Unexpectedly, the man decided to comply. He spun around, capturing a flying Cheeb in his robe as he disappeared. He formed one last time, shooting the Kikwi out and into the pole. With a fanciful gesture, he shot the ropes out of his cloak, wrapping them around the fainted Kikwi.
He spun to face Link, slowly pacing the floor towards him. "Ooh, this shall be the greatest of feats. I can't wait to hear you cry out in pain, my friend." He brought his cloak up to Link's chin, forcing it upwards. "But I suppose I should wait. It wouldn't be fair to let your good friend Groose miss out on all the fun, now would it?" With a snap, the cloaked figure disappeared before Link's eyes. A wave of familar, yet unknown terror washed over Link. Where was Groose?