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TIRED, RETIRED - Crying Wolf 2
🕑 Added 2023-09-18 02:17:57 +0000 UTCGanondorf, in Wolfskull Cave
Sometime after descending enough to leave the daylight behind, Ganondorf realized what he was doing. This was hero work.
This was a dungeon. Or something close to it, anyway. Were caves always this boring? Ganondorf might have set up a few (hundred) traps in caves before, sometimes even personally, but he had never really spent enough time in one to appreciate just how dull the samey rock walls were.
The skeletons were still following him. He’d disarmed one of its weapons and another of its limbs, but they were still following him and punching/headbutting him every time they caught up. If they were in any way sentient he might have respected their tenacity, but as they were mindless automatons it was simply annoying. The only reason he hadn’t destroyed them yet was curiosity. Would they ever give up? They were guarding the entrance, so if he kept going would he eventually leave a range and they’d turn around to resume their station? Would they eventually realize they couldn’t hurt him and try a strategy beyond mindless attack?
The answer to all those questions turned out to be ‘no,’ as the tunnel finally opened up into a small room with the first sign that this cave was actually inhabited. A simple wooden wagon sat propped against a stone pillar, with a lit lantern next to it.
More interesting were the bones and the chains hanging from the ceiling, to no obvious purpose. Any good evil fortress needed bones, no surprise there, but the chains were throwing him off. They ran from roof to floor without supporting anything, and the only thing hanging off them were cobwebs, so they had been there a while.
The wagon was empty, which was curious. Before he could look too closely at it, the armless skeleton headbutted him again, incidentally knocking the wagon down a ledge, just far enough for the cheap wood to shatter into three pieces.
Well, it wasn’t like he’d have gotten much information out of an empty wagon anyway. Still, it couldn’t go unpunished, so he crushed the armless skeleton’s skull in his hand. The rest of the bones collapsed, joining the others on the floor.
The remaining construct, utterly unbothered by the ‘death’ of its partner, continued to ineffectually batter his back with its fists.
All in all, not a promising start if he was honest, but whatever.
On the other side of the stone pillars was another tunnel, but thankfully it opened up again quickly. This cavern had a sort of split level to it, where a ramp led up to a second floor of sorts. Ganondorf, naturally, chose to climb up. The walls closed in so much that he had to turn sideways to move forward, but a little maneuvering later he was overlooking a small turret sticking out of the stone.
Or perhaps it was meant to be a tower? Had once been a tower? Whatever it was, it looked less like it had been built into the cave wall and more like the cave had risen up around it, which was… interesting. How old was this cavern for something like that to happen?
Off to the side, three robed people sat around a campfire. A man in plain black, another man in a washed-out blue, and a woman with a green skull pattern across her chest. Tacky.
The woman was attempting to play a wood flute. This consisted primarily of blowing a flat note, frowning, and then playing the same note but sharp this time. Her fellows were trying their best to not be bothered by it.
Amusingly, the skeleton that had been bothering him had, somehow, managed to lose him when he climbed up here, and it now wandered out of the lower tunnels, still looking for him. The man in black looked up curiously when he heard it rattle closer.
“Hey, isn’t that one of the front guards?”
The man in blue looked over and grunted. “Of course not. It must be the one guarding the hole. Why’s it out here?”
They watched it, making no attempt to get up and investigate, until it turned back around and hurried away again. The mages shrugged and turned back to the fire.
Ganondorf wanted to laugh, he really did. Human or demon or machine, minions across the universe were the exact same kind of stupid.
Ah well. Time to impart a lesson. He stood to his full height and stepped off the ledge, landing below with a thump. “Hello!”
The woman startled, dropping her flute into the fire. As she made a distressed noise, the two men jumped up. To their credit they already had spells ready by the time they were on their feet. The man in black even managed to throw a spear of ice before he’d fully risen, which Ganondorf respected.
To show this respect, he went after him first. He stepped out of the icicle’s path and took three large steps into their space before punching the man in the stomach. He was pulling his punches, but the man still flew ten feet back into the wall, gasping for breath.
The man in blue pulled a shimmering sword out of thin air, even as he sprayed Ganondorf with ice crystals. It wasn’t pleasant--Ganondorf disliked the cold, and the magical nature of this powder snow meant the cold penetrated his usual protections against it. It even managed to slow him down a little. Before he knew it, his feet had been frozen to the floor. “Neat trick.”
Ultimately pointless, though, since the mage forgot to step out of melee range. Ganondorf grabbed by the front of his shirt and threw him towards the first man, who was still struggling to breathe, and they fell over each other in a tangle of limbs.
He turned towards the woman and received a lightning bolt to the face. He took it with a grunt of pain, then stepped towards her, effortlessly breaking the ice. Her eyes widened under her hood and she brought both hands up to throw sparks. This barely slowed him down. He grabbed her, one hand wrapped around her head, and she immediately shut down, terrified.
Ganondorf debated with himself. Interrogation? Death? Knock out? They couldn’t be terribly important if they were on guard duty, and if they weren’t important how much could they know? And if they did know something, did he care to find out? This ‘Potema’ was obviously involved in some way; did he really need more than that? As for killing them, he’d gathered that they were almost certainly criminals and that Skyrim didn’t shy away from corporal punishment… But he also wasn’t obligated to kill them, since he was technically a civilian doing an errand right now, not a soldier clearing out an enemy camp.
Frankly, the novelty of not actively wanting to murder someone was distracting, so he didn’t notice when a zombie left the tower and shoulder-checked him.
He went down, caught off guard, and the woman came with him. She tumbled out of his grip as he diverted his focus to the creature in front of him. His first thought was Redead. His second was Gibdo, as it was an actual mummy rather than a corpse lookalike--you didn’t get that smell from Redeads.
It was decently strong too, as it was trying to pin him to the ground while the mages recovered and pelted him with more useless magic attacks. It was not, however, as strong as Grok, and not nearly as heavy, so he pushed it off of himself, jumped to his feet, and threw the frozen corpse away. By coincidence, it hit a second, less-armored zombie coming in from the tunnel to see what was happening, whose head caved in when the larger zombie’s pauldrons hit it.
“He got the wight, damn it, kill him!” The man in blue shouted.
Ganondorf picked up the log bench they had been sitting on and threw it wide-ways, catching both the men in the chest and slamming them into the wall a second time. They slumped to the ground, lifeless. The woman swore and stopped the deluge of lightning long enough to toss a spit of light at their bodies.
The Gerudo paused, curious, as a sickly light suffused the two men’s remains, and they sprang back to a mockery of life, struggling to get out from under the log. They didn’t succeed, though, so Ganondorf ignored them and walked through the sparks to flick the woman in the forehead.
Her eyes rolled up as she fell unconscious, and the two men gasped before crumbling to dust.
Then the so-called ‘wight’ jumped on his back and tried to strangle him, and the thrice-damned skeleton from before finally found its way back to him and resumed batting its fists against his side.
Ganondorf grunted. “This is becoming tedious.” He grabbed the wight’s head and flipped it over his shoulder onto the ground, then stomped its head into paste. “There better be a good fight at the end of this. And you,” he said, turning to the skeleton, “Are starting to get on my nerves.”
The door to the buried tower creaked open again, and Ganondorf palmed his face when a second skeleton emerged, saw him, and clacked aggressively at him.
“What to do with you…”
----------------------------
Link, outside of Whiterun
Atahbah held the mirror up for Link while he looked himself over. “In this one’s professional opinion, you look ridiculous.”
The Khajiit traders were good people, Link thought. Ri’saad and his troupe really didn’t need to help him, since he was going to be competition, but they had really pulled through for him.
A great big hulking backpack, a little threadbare but that was okay because he was only stuffing it with blankets to get the right shape. A couple gray wolf furs to sew onto the back, complete with a tail that just avoided scraping along the ground. It wasn’t quite the same color as the metal of his wolf helm, but it didn’t clash and that was good enough.
A vision had given him the image of a smiling merchant who covered his own pack with his wares, despite the unnerving feeling that came with it, had given him the idea that would complete his look. A few of his less-sharpened swords stabbed into the back of the pack through the fur, so that from a distance he looked like a wolf that had met the bad end of a hunt. Up close, potential customers would be able to see the potion bottles and arrows hanging from the sides. And, just to make sure he couldn’t actually be mistaken for a werewolf struggling to walk after a pitched battle, he’d cobbled together a flag to announce to all the world that he was open for business. It was bright blue, with a green rupee inside a yellow triangle pointing down. It was a simple symbol, but he liked it.
It wasn’t pretty looking. In fact, it was kind of gruesome. But Link had a feeling the people of Skyrim would like it. At the very least they’d be curious enough to see what he was doing.
“I don’t know, I think it works,” Link said. He rubbed his chin. “Do you think I should grow a beard?”
“Atahbah doesn’t know; can you grow a beard?” the cat woman teased. When Link scowled, she laughed. “If you can, you should. Nords do not respect a clean face as much.”
Khayla scoffed from her guard position. “They are so jealous of our manes, these Nords.”
Link chuckled. “Seriously, though, thanks. Are you guys sure you don’t want payment for this?”
“If you have more desserts, Khajiit will not turn them away,” Ri’saad drawled. “But the meal you shared with us was already worth enough. As was the sugar cane you shared.” He gave Link a lopsided smile. “This one suggests you stop giving things away, or you will never make a profit.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” Link said. “I’ve heard there’s a farmer in the Rift who’s really good at growing unusual crops. I’m hoping to make a deal with them. I’ll probably head to Riften after that.”
“Mm.” Ri’saad closed his eyes, thinking. “You refer to Sarethi Farm, yes? Do you need directions?”
“No, thank you.” Link adjusted the strap of his backpack. “I prefer to wander. I’ll get there eventually.”
“As you wish.” The elder cat’s ears flicked, and he looked towards the city gates. “It would seem we have a visitor.”
Farkas, the Companion, was walking slowly down the path, gaze locked ahead. He walked right by the caravan without acknowledging it.
“...Or perhaps not.”
Farkas turned at the end of the road to continue following it eastward.
“Perhaps you should travel with him,” Atahbah suggested, putting the mirror away. “If he is going the same direction. That one is slow, but strong. And traveling Skyrim alone is dangerous.”
Link shrugged, unbothered. But if they were going in the same direction, it might be nice to have company.
“...”
Of course I haven’t forgotten you, don’t worry. Out loud, he said, “I better not let him get too far ahead, then. Thanks again, for everything.”
“Off with you, wolf merchant,” Ri’saad said, waving him away. “The wolf warrior is getting away.”
Link bowed one final time, then made his way down the road. “Hey! Farkas, was it?”
-----------------------------------------
Ganondorf, Wolfskull Ruins
Honestly, he wasn’t impressed. Ganondorf was certain that even at his laziest, he never made the Hero trawl through a series of regular caves and called it a dungeon. That turret had, disappointingly, been just a single hallway to a great big hole. If there had ever been a full castle or fort or temple, it had long been lost to ruin.
And these infernal skeletons were still following him.
After the newer skeleton’s axe broke against his back, Ganondorf finally lost his patience and grabbed them both by the neck and started dragging them limply behind him.
He was entertaining the idea of giving them true intelligence just so that they’d be able to comprehend the horrible fate he wished to enact upon them, when the cave opened up again into a massive cavern.
A massive cavern. The wall on the right gave way, and Ganondorf had to stop and stare.
“...Well, now that’s more like it.”
Nestled inside the massive cave, with the stone walls rising over the edges, was a massive fortification. It was made out of simple, rough stone bricks, and there were places that had collapsed, but the overall shape was still there. He could see it in his mind’s eye: multiple towers rising over the walls, perfect for archers and mages to cast fire down upon those laying siege. It reminded him…
…of a distant dream, of pirates and vultures, on the open sea. How strange.
The cavern stretched all the way to the surface, apparently, as two great holes let moonlight shine down. And rain, too. From here, he could see more of the undead and robed mages wandering the ruins.
Of course, all of that was simply idle observations in the back of his mind as he took in the true centerpiece of the cave: at the top of the tallest tower, a ritual was taking place that cast waves of pure magic across the entire fort. It swirled around the tower like a whirlpool, and it was all centered around a distinctly human-shaped ball of light.
The Gerudo king stared at the proceedings with a blank face. He should have asked for more information about this Potema. Necromantic rituals? This was more than a simple ritual, he was sure. The power surrounding it was enough to actually impress him; a lesser man might have been overwhelmed.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this. An evil queen from five hundred years ago, in a haunted cave? With mages in dark robes guarding it? Obviously, there was a resurrection going on. It really was nostalgic.
“Wolf Queen. Hear our call and awaken.” The woman’s voice echoed throughout the cavern. “We summon Potema!”
“We summon Potema!” came the response.
Ganondorf shook his head, bemused. Poor bastards. This sort of thing never ended well for them.
Now, how best to go about this?
“Long have you slept the dreamless sleep of death, Potema. No longer. Hear us, Wolf Queen! We summon you!”
“Summoned with words. Bound by blood!”
Obviously, he could dismantle this entire castle brick by brick if he wanted to. It wouldn’t be difficult if he actually tried. One magically-enforced punch could collapse the entire cave, killing everyone inside and ruining any future attempts from trying this ritual nonsense. It would be the easiest thing to do. Probably the smart choice as well.
But it would be awfully dull.
“Hmm…”
One of the skeletons, which he’d almost managed to forget about, whapped him with its arm, drawing his attention to them again.
“...Now there's an idea.” He set them back on their feet. When they immediately tried to attack him again, he narrowed his eyes. Smoky red chains snapped into existence around them, binding them in place. “You two have been very annoying, but now, you have a chance to make it up to me.”
He flexed his magic. Reaching deep into his soul, he found the dark magic that had been his to command for many millennia. It didn’t answer him as readily as it once had, but it still answered. Before, when he’d tried to summon a monster, it hadn’t worked. But if he were to create some instead…
Ganondorf tapped both skeletons on the shoulder, and they writhed as if in pain. Dark red and violent purple light ran up and down their bones as they shifted, warped, and twisted into a new shape. They became a little more squat, a little more thick, and the eerie blue glow in their eye sockets became more focused, shrinking into proper orbs of vibrant pink.
The Stalfos looked around, more aware than before, then snapped to attention when he whistled.
“Alright, boys,” Ganondorf said, grinning. He pointed down the path towards the fort entrance. “Clear the way, but leave the leaders for me.”
“Agagaga!”
They cackled, racing off. Ganondorf followed at a sedate pace. If someone actually managed to beat a pair of Stalfos, then surely they’d give him a worthy battle as well.
------------------------------
“Something is… wrong,” the lead mage’s voice echoed. “Someone is here. They cannot be allowed to interfere!”
The first mage, standing at the entrance of the fort proper, looked up at the Ritual Master’s declaration. Who in the world would be so foolish as to try and stop this?
The sound of rattling pulled his attention to the ramp up to the caves. A pair of skeletons were charging down. “You two! Keep an eye out for intruders!”
The two stopped, staring at him. They glanced at each other, then, bizarrely their skulls deformed to pull their teeth back into a vicious grin.
“Wha--?”
They tore into him before he had a chance to realize that these skeletons weren’t on his side.
The draugr behind him, being stupider creatures, didn’t have the capacity to be confused. They had the senses necessary to recognize that the magic driving these skeletons was unlike that animating them, and so attacked without hesitation.
It didn’t help them.
The Stalfos stopped, taking stock of their fallen foes. They pulled the rusting armor off the draugr and put it on themselves. One settled on boots and the codpiece, the other added a breastplate to it. The former took one draugr’s sword, while the other hefted a two-handed axe. Thus equipped, they continued on.
“What is happening down there?”
“The others will take care of it. Continue the ritual.”
------------------------------
Ganondorf watched the Stalfos go, pleased. They were always one of the more elite units in his armies. The only ones who were better were the Darknuts.
Well, and the Lynels, but those were a special case.
Eccentric, though, he thought, watching them from behind. They were oddly preoccupied with looting; as he watched, they killed another pair of mages. One of them had another robe with a skull design, and they stopped to take it off the body and cut it up into a makeshift cape, to be worn by the Stalfos without a chestpiece. The other took a pair of leather boots off a mage that were in better condition than the ones they’d taken from the previous draugr.
Odd, but as long as it didn’t impact their effectiveness.
The cavern shook, and Ganondorf looked up as a new voice rang out.
“Yes! Yes! Return me to this realm!”
“As our voices summon you, the blood of the innocent binds you Wolf Queen!”
“Summoned with words. Bound by blood.”
His nose wrinkled in disgust. Blood of the innocent? How classless. The extra power you got from innocent blood wasn’t worth the hassle of finding someone that guiltless. It was more efficient to just bleed twice the number of soldiers instead.
Unless it was children’s blood.
He snorted angrily. If they were using child sacrifices, then he would make their deaths hurt.
“...What? What are you doing?! You fools! You cannot bind me to your wills!”
Or he supposed he could just let them reap what they’re sowing.
“Summoned with words. Bound by blood.”
“You ants don’t have the power to bind me!”
Ganondorf looked back down and saw the Stalfos in battle with a heavily-armored undead. The shirtless one had acquired a second sword while he wasn’t looking.
He saw a mage readying a spell on the parapet overhead, so he braced himself and jumped.
At the peak of his arc, he looked towards the ritual and made eye contact with an elderly woman, who gaped at him. Then he came back down and landed on the mage, breaking his spine and the bricks underneath him.
“W-What in the world?!”
The undead below looks up, distracted by the small tremor, and for exposing his neck had it sliced open. The Stalfos hurried up the stairs after their master.
“Ha ha ha!”
Another mage. More undead. Ganondorf and his minions arrived at the base of the tallest tower. Inside was an actual challenge, an orc with a mace in one hand and an icicle in the other.
He disarmed the first Stalfos and froze the second in place before turning his attention to Ganondorf.
“Kill the intruder!”
“I’m working on it!” the orc yelled. He swung his mace and Ganondorf blocked with his arm.
It tore into his sleeves, and then flame and heat poured from the point of impact. The orc mage grinned savagely, only to balk when Ganondorf responded with one of his own. He enveloped his free hand in fire and punched faster than the orc could react, directly in his chest.
The orc hit the wall and crumpled, shaking the tower.
Thunder sounded out from the ritual. As they all lost their footing. “No, don’t let it go! We can’t lose control!”
“Yes! Give in! Release me!”
Ganondorf ascended the spiral stairs and finally came to the top, where three mages stood in a triangle around a raised dais. The ghostly aura of Potema hovered over the center, and turned to face him as he approached.
“Kill him!” the elderly woman barked, desperate.
The two younger mages broke off, hurling ice spears at him. He batted them aside, and then let the Stalfos engage them.
He walked up to the old woman, who could not stop the ritual. She glared at him defiantly. “You won’t stop this! The power of the Wolf Queen will be ours!”
The specter of Potema threw its head back and laughed, a sound that promised pain and torture.
Gannodorf ignored them both for the moment. Instead, he inspected the ritual circle, a sigil that from a certain angle looked like a wolf’s head with far too many teeth. Then he noticed a book set on the low wall nearby and flipped through it.
“Don’t touch that!”
“Why, did you plan to consult it during the ritual?” he asked idly, still looking. “You don’t seem to be able to move.”
“You don’t even know what you’re reading!” she hissed. “It’s Dunmeri!”
“Perhaps not,” Ganondorf conceded. “But the pictures are very informative.” He tucked the book into his belt and glared at her. “This never ends well for you, you know. Summoning an evil spirit only ever ends with it killing you.”
“She cannot!” the Ritual Master insisted. “Our spellwork is flawless. The power of the Septims will be mine!”
“Ours!” one of her fellows said, then got knocked down by his opponent.
He stared at her. He had a soft spot for elderly, magic-using women. “I can help you banish her, if you let me. It’s not too late.”
“Don’t listen to him, worm. Release me, and I’ll only kill you a little.”
The Ritual Master lowered one arm from the summoning spell and fired a lightning bolt at him. It splashed off his chest, and he grunted in pain.
“Ah well. I tried.”
Ganondorf closed a hand around the elder’s head and immolated her. In seconds, only a pile of ash remained.
The other mages gasped at his display of magic, allowing the Stalfos to close in. One of them lost his head, while the other managed to throw one final icicle before she met the same fate.
Ganondorf turned to the ritual circle, and looked Potema in the eyes. The specter gave the impression of a sharp-toothed grin.
He cracked his knuckles with a smirk. “Cultists, huh? Pathetic.”
She tilted her head. “Do you honestly think you have a chance against me?”
“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “After all, this is the part where the monster gets loose and a…” he grimaced, “hero has to put them down.”
Potema cackled. “Oh, I like this one.”
She spun, morphing into a ball of light, then she swooped around the cavern, punching through the remaining wisps of magic and sweeping them along in her wake, laughing madly all the while. Then she flew up and out of the cavern through the hole in the ceiling.
Ganondorf waited. Nothing happened.
He slowly turned his head towards the Stalfos. “Did she just run?”
They shrugged at him.
With a growl, he leapt up through the hole, coming out in a desolate snowscape, clearly untouched by people. Only sparse pine trees dotted the mountainside. He jumped again, grabbing onto the tallest tree he could and scanning the horizon. The rain was clearing, but the drizzle still made it difficult to see very far. He’d have still thought that a glow purple orb would have been plainly visible, but Potema had vanished into thin air.
“...Damn it all. Where’s my fight?!”
Comments
Silvris
loved old Ganondorf having the realisation that he effectively volunteered to do Links Job. And his annoyance at the shoddy build of Skyrims Dungeons.
Luminant
Now I kinda wanna see the alternative Bad Isekai version, where Potema doesn't run away but instead physically manifests, duels Ganondorf for a night and a day (causing unexplained but devastating seismic activity in the area that the legion will suspect Ganondorf of but he will never admit to) before accepting her loss and becoming Ganondorf's yandere (self-proclaimed) waifu. ...I've seen too much anime, and read too much fanfiction.
mayordomoGoliat
Gannon having a Gordon Ramsey moment about the dungeon.
Enochi
I don't know skyrim well but this looks to be a riot kinda hope to see some more Zelda soon.
