Chapter Text
The Chain found themselves backed into a corner, an onslaught of attacks greeted them through the unforgiving marsh of Faron Wetlands. They pushed through the wet earth and damp air to gather their weapons and intel on what managed to swoop in under their radar.
Wizzrobes.
It just had to be Wizzrobes.
The magic monsters danced around the chain, shooting out elemental beams at the sopping-wet heroes.
Wild was quick to trade his standard garb for a fish head and then began shoving various jewelry onto those who didn’t pack different outfits. Legend pulled a fur coat over his head and shoved a dozen rings onto his fingers.
With new outfits equipped, they began their assult.
The Ice and Fire Wizzrobes were the first to fall to the might of Time and Legend. The old man taking on the brunt of the fire-based attacks as if they didn’t hurt, and the veteran doing the same for Ice.
Landing blow after blow, hit after hit until their opponents were gone in a cloud of purple smoke.
Wild took care of the Electric Wizzrobe, firing a barrage of arrows by the dozen as Four backed him up with his sword, Topaz Earrings engulfing his petite pointed ears as he waited until the Wizzrobe floated closer to the ground to strike.
An arrow to the head finished it off.
Wind whooped in delight.
That had to be the easiest and quickest battle the group had had in a while. But just as they were about to put their weapons away and change outfits, a magic attack missed Twilight by an inch. It was by some miracle that Twilight leaned away when he did.
The team jumped to surround the rancher, swords in hand as they searched for the new threat.
There. Dancing in the near distance, was another Wizzrobe. But something was off with it, it didn’t blast them with any elements, or care about staying out of sword range. It was unusual, and for a monster, that means only one thing: Black-Blood.
Time and Warriors took the lead, protecting their fellow heroes as the Wizzrobe unleashed sporadic attacks, most hitting the forests and lakes that surrounded them, draining the life out of nature and leaving rotting corpses in its wake.
Great. Just great. Add that to the notes: Black-Blooded Wizzrobes = Dark Magic.
Wind was beginning to rescind his earlier cheers. The monster's brethren had been of normal blood and elemental power, and were easily taken down in little time by the finely tuned team. But with this jerk they found themselves corralled by the stronger-than-usual monster.
Back to back to back to back, they did their best to hold their own against the Wizzrobe, the archers taking their shots when it danced in front of them, the others pitching in with whatever items they had. Most of their heavier attacks missed as it evaded, taunting, and dancing in circles. It didn't allow itself to be hit with any attack larger than a paper cut.
The dancing and laughing was starting to get on Legend's nerves, teeth grating as he threw a handful of Gale Seeds at the bitch, throwing them just as it reappeared in front.
Legend was going to scream as he watched the Wizzrobe vanish in the blink of an eye before the newly formed tornadoes could take that son of a- back to Ganon.
In the corner of his eyes, above the group he saw the monster with its arms raised back, gathering up a giant ball of Dark Magic
Legend tried to push the group apart - the circle of heroes too close for anyone to be spared - but at most, he got a couple of them to look up, and another couple to duck and cover their heads. Both of which helped for nothing as the magic engulfed them, swirling around before sinking into their bodies.
With a shudder, Wind was the first to recover, he felt the same as before, all his limbs right where he left them, and nothing odd seemed to be speaking to him.
Throwing his boomerang blindly he pulled off a lucky shot as the Wizzrobe died in a puff of smoke, leaving nothing valuable behind, typical.
One by one the heroes shook off the poor excuse of a spell. Wind packed his battle-winning weapon away just as Hyrule started checking everyone over for injuries. “Wassit just me,” Wind started, looking at his brothers in defeat, “or was that the lamest Wizzrobe ever?”
Legend cracked his joints, allowing the aches and pains of being a veteran hero to weasel out of his constantly hurting body. “No shit. The others at least had the decency to try and paralyze us for a bit. That was a waste of Dark Magic and of my items.” With a groan, Legend got his neck to release with a pop as Time took stock.
Not of items, of course, but of how the group was feeling. “Has anyone felt any different since that last attack?” When he was met with unanimous ‘no’s’ he started to ponder aloud. “Strange that a Dark Magic wielder would waste their energy on a spell that does nothing. Was it that its attack failed, or that it has yet to activate? If so, what causes it to activate? Was it a physical attack or an emotional one? Perhaps mental?”
The sun was nearing the horizon, the world around them winding down for the night as the heroes found a place to make camp, still no different than they were that morning.
Finishing up their dinners and rolling out their bedrolls, each hero gazed up at the starry sky, constellations regarded throughout the varying eras greeted them, a shooting star passed by urging them to make a wish and hold it close.
One by one the heroes said goodnight to the stars and each other, ready to wash away the craze of the day.
Happy to sigh in content and snuggle further down into their covers, hoping tomorrow would be a good day as well, “I had to kill my Bride just to see these stars again.” Something told them it wasn’t going to be.