Great King of Evil (Ganondorf Dragmire)
|Great King of Evil (Ganondorf Dragmire)|
|Date of Cutscene:||19 January 2020|
|Synopsis:||Ganondorf is introspective. His introspection is interrupted by some unexpected arrivals.|
|Cast of Characters:||7039|
The night was long, and Ganondorf was angry.
That wasn't new. He was always angry about something. Always powerless. All the dark might in the world and he could not simply wave his hand and fix the Gerudo's lot in life. He could walk straight into Hyrule Castle - had done so! - and practically dared them all to stop him from killing every person in the room, doom the Kingdom to anarchy and chaos, illustrate that he was completely unstoppable...and it would change nothing. The Hylians would simply redouble their efforts to break through the impenetrable canyon, enlist the aid of the Zora and perhaps even the Gorons, send envoys to the other Kingdoms...they might descend into anarchy, but not before killing every last one of the Gerudo.
That was unacceptable.
So he sat on the walls of Gerudo Town. He came up here to be alone sometimes. The whirling storm of the desert was a familiar sight. He had grown...used to it. The raging stores mirrrored his own endless hate. A stable constant. The desert hated as he did.
He sat, and he played.
The harp was beautiful. Exotic. Even among the Gerudo, famed for their musical talents, Ganondorf was a maestro. The strings echoed the peaceful night sky above, the eye of the maddening sandstorm. A rare moment where he could try, once again, to let go of his rage for just a moment, to let his hate flow into the desert and the notes and disappear, just for a moment.
The notes grew harsh. His thoughts settled on the Hero. On the Princess.
How did they not see it?
An angry plucking turned beautiful music to sharp and fast. Still excellent, but no longer peaceful. It beat with the rage already ticking back into his heart. How did they not see what they were? What they were meant to be? She, a vassal of the Triforce of Wisdom, a young Queen in an unstable Kingdom full of ambitious nobility. He, a sacrifice for a worthless race, to be spent and cast aside.
The notes grew harsher still. The song became unsettled. Out beyond the spellposts of Gerudotown, the blue lanterns of desert ghosts began to take notice of his hate. The Hero of Courage, stealing! The Princess of Wisdom, overthrown! Why could they not see as clearly as he where their paths led? Where all their paths led?
A melancholic pause. He was walking into destruction.
He knew that, clearly. His eyes had fixed on that from youth. He had sought every means of redress. Every klndness he could offer. Every welcoming hand, every attempt at diplomacy. Spurned, again, and again, and again, he no longer had kindness left in his heart. He saw the path and where it led but he no longer saw alternatives.
The last shred of Hope in the Great King of Evil's heart pushed its way forth amongst the malice for a single, echoing note in the desert storm.
Maybe they could.
If they weren't so blind.
Maybe indeed the Hero of Courage could save the Gerudo. Maybe the Princess of Wisdom could usurp power. Maybe it could be solved, if only they saw, if only they saw what he saw.
Why couldn't they see what he saw?
The endless blaze. The desert hate. The biting cold night-winds with laughing ghosts and spectral lanterns. The burning day-winds scourging skin and flesh. Why did it always come back to that? Why could he see no way to escape this, the only way to escape this, the violence and the destruction?
As a child…
A nostalgic melody. One of the songs Koume had played. Once, the Requiem of Spirit had had great meaning to the Gerudo. Now it was lost to time, and it held great meaning only to him. It had been his lullaby in dark times. His hopeful eyes. His dreaming of a brighter future.
Now lit by funeral pyres instead of joyous, gentle sun.
He set the harp down on the wall. His head sank into his hands. There was no way out.
Veran's voice was quiet as she sat down next to him. She had taken human form, brushing red hair from blue face. "You didn't have to stop. It was just getting good."
Ganondorf shook his head. "Veran. This obsession will consume me, won't it?"
She leaned against him, looking out at the desert. "With Hyrule?"
"Probably." She twirled a finger in her hair. "Aren't you fine with that? Kill the Hero in the same battle you die in. Break their last hope. Bring them sorrow that your loyal minions might swoop down and secure the world for the Gerudo."
"I don't know."
"I do." Veran took his hand in hers. It was a gentle squeeze. "You've been given a gift, my King. A gift of certainty. A gift that says that you, you, the Great King, will rule Hyrule. You will die its King, its master, as you are master to us all. This is fact, My King. You walk this path knowing that it must happen."
"Because there is no other way."
"Because there is no other way," Veran agreed. She held his hand and stared out at the desert, kicking her feet lightly as if she was a mere mortal woman. Ganondorf had long since stopped paying attention to her attempts at humanity. He knew what she was. He knew what she wanted from him. He knew what her affections made of him.
There just came a point where he could no longer care.
He released her hand and picked up the harp, and began to play that sad, melancholic song again. Veran sighed and ran her hand through her hair, shifted her top, and tugged at her pants. She could do it manually. Another little affectation of mortality. "My King, I didn't come up here just to listen to you play. It's beautiful as always, of course, and I love hearing it, but I have important news."
Ganondorf paused. "Important news?"
"It's best if you just come with me."
The throne room was alive with commotion. Shouts of fear and anger echoed off the walls. Urba, the head of the guard, had already called for Koume and Kotake, and Veran had been sent forth to fetch the Warlock King.
There were men inside the town.
Two of them were men, at any rate.
One of the voe was a tall, portly man. He wore an inverted Sheikah mask, red garb, with a gold belt buckle and black highlights. At his hips were a pair of ninja blades. He was playing, absentmindedly transfixed on some sort of stone with glowing red lines. He paid no attention at all to the guards.
The other voe was on the shorter side. He wore a royal purple pointed hat and cloak. His skin was a light shade of violet-blue, his long hair slightly darker. He had the pointed ears of a Hylian, but his eyes were a deep, dark red. He had a black-hilted sword at his hip, which he fidgeted with nervously, looking about at the spears of the Gerudo guard levelled at them.
The last was unmistakably a Poe.
A single red eye gazed out from under a purple hood. Skeletal claws stretched out of billowing sleeves, one clutching a gnarled staff, the other a lantern that held a night-black flame from which grey embers pulsed. Gold adornments covered its cloak. It had no legs, simply floating, waiting. The guards did not dare approach him.
Ganondorf strolled in, and immediately, the man in the Sheikah mask looked up from his toy. The Poe lowered its head. And the purple Hylian bent to one knee. In three large strides Ganondorf was up to the throne, Veran at his side. He turned, sat, and faced them. His head rested upon his hand.
"The penalty for entering Gerudo Town as an uninivted voe is death."
The purple Hylian tugged on his collar. The masked man knelt immediately. The Poe simply tilted its red eye up to look at him, as if to say that death was no threat to the dead.
The masked man pushed the purple Hylian forward. The young man - no older than Zelda and Link, for certain - stumbled forward, looking up at Ganondorf. "G, Great King of Evil. We ask that you show us mercy, for we are n, not here to...to invade you."
Ganondorf's hand nearly dug into the throne. "Mercy? From the Great King of Evil? Who are you that dares to ask such of me?"
The Poe slid forward. Its words were slimy, wrapped in distrustful, poisonous sound. "Master...we have come to serve you. To pledge our...allegiance...to your great and noble cause. You are...in need of us."
"I need nothing, demon." Ganondorf's anger was enough to get even the dead to back away, the Poe floating backwards to join the masked man. The masked man dared to look up.
"Maybe we should introduce ourselves, huh?" He stood up and puts his hand against his portly stomach, bowing at the hip. "Master Ganondorf, Great King of Evil, I am Kohga, Master of the Yiga. I have come to pledge my clan to yours, that we might together destroy Hyrule and the hated Sheikah. You'll find no warrior stronger than me, and no ninja stronger than the Yiga! We admire your strength, and admire the Gerudo people's tenacity against an insurmountable force - and believe that together we can, uh, surmount. That force." The portly Yiga picked up his odd rock again and started making signs against it. "Surmount, surmount...is that, uh, a word?" he muttered to himself.
The Poe also bent at an angle, its book-hand against what might be its stomach. "I am Wizzro, o Master of Evil. I, the Arch-Poe, the Lord of Ghosts, come to pledge my...heh, heh...allegiance to your cause. I was drawn from my grave by your Malice...your divine, profane Malice...heh, heh. With me at your side, even the dead will...come when you call. Heh, heh."
Ganondorf stared at them. Veran put her hand on his shoulder and leaned down until her lips brushed his ear. "My King. This may be what we needed most. Your power is vast, but you are one man. This...is an army."
The Gerudo King ran his fingers through his hair. "And all you want is to serve me? Without recompense?"
"Don't. No more titles. 'My Lord' will do for now."
The chubby Yiga tugged at his collar. "A-as you say, my lord. The destruction of the Sheikah will be our recompense. Our hated rivals, those fools who would abandon the ancient ways to serve the Hylians...we, the Yiga, are the true Sheikah inheritors! We'll destroy them and take back all that they took, all the land, all the scrolls of secrets they stole! And I'll prove that I am indeed the strongest of all Sheikah, and that I am the truest Master! Believe it, o Great King of Evil!"
The Poe laughed, a low and ominous laugh. "Hehehehe. Yes. No compensation, indeed. I am here to serve you...faithfully."
Ganondorf's eyes turned to the purple Hylian. The youth dropped to one knee upon drawing Ganondorf's gaze, his head tilted so low it nearly met the floor. Ganondorf tapped a finger on his throne. "And you, boy? What do you desire, to come so far?"
"I, I am…" The boy's voice was shaking. "I am…"
"Speak plain. And look at me."
The young man looked up. His red eyes locked upon Ganondorf's. He shook for a moment, but not with fear. Ganondorf suddenly saw excitement and ambition burning in those eyes. The young man stood, and tightened his fists. "King Ganondorf! Great King of Evil! Warlock King! King of Thieves! King of the Gerudo! King of Monsters, King of Malice, King of Wicked Things In The Night!"
The youth thumped his hand against his chest. "I am Vaati, my King! I bring nothing but myself! But I have a request of you!"
Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.
"Please!" The youth's eyes sparkled. He pumped his fists in front of him eagerly.
"Take me as your apprentice!"