Although Dogura had been fighting the Goron for a long time, he was still schocked at how quick he could move. The heat was beginning to get to him now as well. he was drenched in sweat from the hot desert sun, and almost wished he could have fought Matir somewhere else. He shook it off and laughed. "You dont get it do you? My father... Actually, he doesent deserve the disrespect of being spoken about in your filthy presence." Dogura finished his sentence, by a quick dash around the backside of the Goron, and a heavy thrust of his sword staight to the back of his head. Dogura would not now, not ever. He knew that the only way to repay his eternal debt was to live his life to the fullest. And thats exactly what he intended to do.

Unfortunately for Dogura, Martir was also one who enjoyed living his life. And while that life included slaughtering mercilessly, he was proud. After all, killing was not all he enjoyed doing. Reading, hiking, and other common leisure activities were placed above his occupation. He did not know this "Dogura" fellow very well, but the mention of a father figure seemed to lighten the large merc's mood. A strange look of pity emerged from his eyes, but only for an instant. It was time to resume the slaughter.

Martir was not exactly a fast Goron, in fact, there were few of his kind that were exceptionally swift. However, he easily deflected the samurai's latest attack, rolling into a tight ball as the sword sheared t he air above him. He let out a horrendous laugh, and rolled backwards at an impressive speed. It seemed that Gorons, while in their spherical form, were capable of great agility. The rocky hide slammed into the vagabond's lower body, pushing him until he was forced to his back, laying in the sand. Of course, the momentum of the attack carried the assassin over his target, his backside scratching ferociously at Dogura as he rolled.

He stood to his feet, laughing at his fallen target. The blood induced by the Goron's rough skin had mingled with the sand of the desert, creating blotched regions of a maroon colored mud. "Who's filthy now?" came Martir's gleeful retort.

Dogura lay in the sand, that ripped at his cuts, and burned them. Dogura stood up, but standing wasnt an easy task in his current condition. "Nicely put. But Im not going down so easily." Dogura cleaned some of the sand off of him, and winced in pain, as hid calased fingers touched his wounds.

The samurai was far from beaten, but close to dehydrating. He was out of his element, and he knew it. He used a techniqe that he doesent normally like to use, but the situation called for a quick healing. A beam of light cut through the sun, and cooled him off, as well as restoring a couple of his wounds. "You arent the only one with an ace up his sleeve." Dogura scoffed.

The vagabond smirked a painful one, but did his best not to show he was hurt badly. "Dont you understand. I wont die here. I have a destiny to fulfill, and neither of us controll fate. That, my friend is up to the godesses. My destiny does not end here." He shifted his weight to his front, preparing to dash. "Yous however. Your destiny. An asassin has no will of his own. He is a puppet to money and murder.

However, ive never been an asassin, ive just encountered enough to know what they thrive on." Dogura was ready to end the crisis, once and for all, now or never, he had to do something. His backside was covered in rough armor, that a sword could not likely penitrate easily. Dogura focused his WILL and, pried into the Goron's mind. He had to use this. His best offence would be to out-smart his opponant. The vagabond toyed with the Goron's mind by creating a direct link to Matir's optic nerve.

Doing so created multiple images in front of th Goron of the samurai. Although there was only one, Matir was seeing 4. This would likely aid Dogura in battle, and possibly turn the tide in his favor. "Im not filthy." Dogura muttered, each clone dispersing in a different direction. Jumping around, and making turns to confuse the goron, all the samurais came together in one bloody encloseur upon the asassin.

Using the prominent power that the Goddesses granted upon him, Dogura was able to heal himself, but only slightly. After all, Martir had damaged the man severely enough that a healing spell did not make too great a difference. It did however, keep his open wounds from bleeding too much, and it aided in sustaining his energy and his ability top remain upright.

Martir knew he was only feeling the blade of one samurai, but the pain inflicted upon his lofty body felt multiplied, as though each mirage had been a physical form, each sword no less real than the true vagabond's weapon. He squelched in pain, doubling over and crashing into the sand as his weight pulled him faster and faster towards the sand. His face buried in the warm earth, a gasp muffling against its nullifying material.

He lay still for a moment, his arms stretched ahead of him. His hands twitched lightly, his feet shifting as his legs drew to a vertical position. Slowly, the Goron was able to stand upright, shaking his head agitatedly to throw the piles of sand back to where they belonged. He blinked madly, desperately attempting to extract each grain from his burning eyes. Finally relaxing, Martir stood still and furrowed his brow. In simpler terms, Martir shot Dogura a menacing glare capable of scaring to death a young child.

Roaring intensely, the terrifying assassin charged at the target, thrashing out with his fists as he came close enough. Despite having been weakened, ill and overconfident, Martir was also furious. His rage enabled him to drive all five of his boulder-thick knuckles into Dogura's gut, and he grinned as he felt his fist hitting the man. The sheer power of the strike forced the vagabond to stagger forward, his ribs no doubt fractured in several places.

Colors. Colors everywhere. Flashing in his mind. Such pain in his stomache. He had no time to react to the blow. Sheer pain took him over, as he fell to the ground in a heap of dust and sand. He couldnt move. "D-Damn y-.." He couldnt even speak. It pained him greatly even to breath.

He called upon the godesses, however they werent feeling very generous, and granted him nothing. He had never feared death before. He had always been so sure of himself. Now... he wasnt so sure. Is this what fate has decided on me? Is this it? Is my time up? Thoughts he hadf never thought before rushed through his mind, as the sun showed mercy on him. In fact, something incredible happened.

It began to rain...

The sky clouded up, and water sprinkled the vagabonds face, before it was soon raining fairly hard. Dogura had always loved the smell of rain.. It reminded him of a time where peace reighned.. back when he used to train with his father in harsh sessions.

A memory wrote:"Daddy! I cant do it anymore!" Dogura cried frusterated and sore. "Son.." His father's noble voice made him look up. "Never give up on yourself. Even when your future seems bleak.. and you feel like you cant go on... you must believe in yourself.." Dogura stood up, sore, but ready to go. "Okay dad! I will try!" The two had resumed the session in the rain.

The flashback ended, and Dogura began to cry. It wasnt noticed, for the rain had washed his face, cloaking his tears. His fathers voice rang in his head, and he saw. Maybe a mirage. Maybe his imagination. Maybe both. But his Father appeared before him. "fa-.." Was all he could mutter before he realized that he was still in much pain.

"Son..." He extended a broad calaced hand. "D-Da.." Dogura stammered, almost forgetting about his current position. Dogura grasped the hand, and was pulled to his feet. This must have looked amazing from Matir's point of view. If it really was his imagination... "You must never stop believing in yourself... Once you give up... You lose. Trust in what I say... and believe." His father seemed to meld into his son's body. Dogura stood in the rain, and gripped his sword tightly.

"Okay dad." He said, emotions washing him like the rain that soaked his clothing. He felt a rage. a fear. a spirit. a war. It was building up inside of him like never before now. With renewed spirit, and his fathers help, he had an incredible strength building in his heart. His scream pierced the now cool and rainy air. "Okay father! I will try!" He screamed, as he took off in Matir's direction, feeling his father keeping him on his feet. With new strength, and a burning passion, Dogura drove his sword into the belly of the Goron... and watched the blood run down the gorons body, mixed with the rain that the godesses had cast from the heavens. The blade had been driven straight through the Goron. And had penetrated out the other side.

The rain washed down upon them, as the animals once filled with voice, now had nothing to say. It was completely silent. Even the rain seemed to be silent as it hit the now muddy sand. All was silent, and two different emotions had been driven deep within the Asassin...

OOC: Just two things, ZV. You should have asked me if I was alright with it raining, and you should never assume that your attack hits home. Those aside, that was a beautiful post I'll let those slide, but just for future reference...

IC:

Martir was not sure how something like this had happened. He stared down at his stomach, and at the sword protruding from it. A groan escaped his large lips; that throaty, hollow sound that Gorons are infamous for. Turning his head to the side, he was able to catch a glimpse of his back. Another section of the sword stuck out dangerously from that point as well, and yet again his racial moaning was emitted. It took a moment for him to realize the severeness of the situation in full. Stabbed through his thick, lofty torso was the blade of his enemy.

And yet, he felt no real pain from the maneuver. Had autopsies and forensics been all the rage at the time, it would be discovered that Dogura's Deku sword had narrowly avoided any vital organs inside the assassin's body. Martir's spine - fortunately for him - had been passed. Had Dogura been successful in piercing that, Martir would have been laying paralyzed in the sand by that point. The attack caused a slight burning inside, but altogether, the Goron had not noticed the attack.

His next move was successfully his last. Shoving the vagabond violently away from him, Martir grabbed for the hilt and withdrew the sword, tossing it behind him. It landed point-first in the sand, stained with the mercenary's blood. A moment passed before what could be perceived as the expected occurred. Martir's hands appeared calm, but then suddenly jolted to his stomach. An expression of agony crossed his face, and the blood flowed quickly from the wide wound on his front side. But this was not what struck his concern.

It was the coughing that followed. An intense hack-fit began, blood being pushed from his mouth as it happened. In his chest, his lungs began to slow, his air supply growing faint. His heart shut down completely, ending the cycle of blood-flow through his stream. Without any energy being carried to his limbs, Martir was forced to the ground, choking and grasping his throat with his large hands. Had extracting his target's sword set off his disease? The heavy rock-eater could not guess what had happened, but his illness was attacking him in full force. He could not feel his own heartbeat, and his pulse had diminished. He felt his brain shutting down, and already he felt his own body beginning to fester and rot. "How is this possible?" he screamed angrily, confused as to how this turn of events had happened.

It did not take another second afterwards to see Martir's face fall into the sand yet again, for the final time. The assassin had died, perhaps from Dogura's valiant lunge, or perhaps the virus was simply waiting for the right moment and had stricken just before Martir was able to defeat the vagabond. It didn't matter. Dogura was the victor of the struggle.

Before the samurai could react, rejoice or even feel sympathy for the fallen man, three hooded men appeared as if from nowhere. The sun had regained dominance over the sky, the rain becoming only a memory. These men did not appear to be drenched as Martir and Dogura were. One carried Dogura's sword, the others stood with arms crossed and staring at their discovery. They noticed instantly a fallen comrade; a Goron garbed in the cloak of their organization. Their first reaction? Anger, of course. But rather than attacking the weary vagabond, the first of the two with folded arms gestured to the slain Goron.

"Who are you?" The question also seemed to imply other interrogative inquiries. "Why did you do this?", to name the more important of any.

Weak, the samurai would have collapsed if his father's spirit was not guiding him. "I did this..." He muttered before raising a hand. "Let me finish!" He choked out, looking up. "He.. was an asassin. He f-followed me here... I had no reason of violence, other than self defence." He managed to say, clutching his ribs, which were most likely shattered.

"Please... I only fought for my own defence... If you decide to kill me, I pass no judgement. I would kill for a friend too..." This said, he fell to a knee, and coughed up something foul. Before long he would die, without proper medical attention.

OOC: Sorry Blank, i just noticed that you were posting my ribs shattering, and I figured I could land a blow. I figured since it was not real stat based fighting, I could do so, but im sorry, and thanks, its amoung my best

The blinding sun beat down on the four men gathered in the remote region of Hyrule. The three mysterious individuals seemed to conference with each other, before nodding and turning their attention to the wounded samurai. The leader of the group raised his left arms and pointed in Dogura's general direction, signalling one of the others to approach.

The man who held the vagabond's wooden sword stirred quietly, stepping silently through the sand towards Dogura. When he was within a foot or two, he lifted his right hand, bringing the sword up with it. From a distance, it looked as though he was preparing to kill the weakened man.

But after a moment, the hilt of the sword appeared before Dogura, the blade digging into the ground. The two other men had disappeared, and the remainder of the party stood further away than he had been just then, arms folded and staring down at Dogura, facial features hidden from view and attitude, identity and purpose unknown. He lobbed a vial towards Dogura - it was a thin glass tube, with a cork topping it and sealing the red liquid inside. Was it blood? No, it was far thicker a substance.

"Red Potion." explained the man in a hushed tone.

A mild sandstorm was approaching from behind him. He stepped into it, undoing his hood as he went. The wispy, tan colored typhoon of sand surrounded him, making his features unnoticeable still. It passed quickly; it was only a brief column of dust. And yet the cloaked man had managed to use it to exit the scene.

As if from no direction in particular, his voice echoed through the area. He was nowhere to be seen, but his message carried.

"We will come for you. Trust the untrustworthy. Seek the wolf."

The region fell deathly silent.

Dogura stood there, shocked, holding the vile. He quickly uncorked the bottle, and drank the entire bottle in one tip. He felt as good as new, all except for something tugging at his mind. "Seek the wolf..." Dogura said aloud, as he dropped the vile into the sand, and stared off into the sandstorm that was blowing in.

He gripped his weapon and pulled it forth. He turned the words over in his head, only one word escaped his dry lips, in a raspy, but clear tone. "Myst..." With that word, he too sank into the shadows, and seeked the man refered to as, "The wolf"

OOC: Nice ending Alpha. And I do assume you were speaking of Myst Wolfeye correct? Im loving this

Zelda Veteran wrote:OOC: Nice ending Alpha. And I do assume you were speaking of Myst Wolfeye correct? Im loving this

Alpha? Why, he had nothing to do with it Yeah, I know what you meant

IC:

A man staggered through the desert, towards the site of the supposed elimination of Dogura. As he neared his destination, a look of shock sprang to his face. Laying dead in the sand was Martir Gavin, one of Killtactic's surviving members. Well, he was no survivor at that point, but before this day that would have been a fitting title.

The awkward man, clad in an eloquent green-and-purple jacket and an odd green cap, produced a thin quill from a pocket, as well as a neat scrap of parchment. He began to joy down his observations, speaking them aloud as he wrote.

"Martir Gavin, the Rock, has fallen. Clearly this Dogura has been underestimated. Files to be updated: Calatia 5B4D20 and Hyrule 8C4C14. Time of notation: Noon of the eleventh day of the seventh month."

Lerimus Dublin sneered at the corpse before him. "Mercenary scum," he muttered, bringing a quantity of spit into his mouth and ejecting it onto the slain Goron. He then kicked sand over the already half-buried assassin, before turning and exiting the scene. He would have to report to his temporary abode to create the full report. Already, three members of the mercenary troupe referred to as Killtactic Assassination had been dissolved, their identities blown away by the advantages of the good adventurers of Hyrule.

Dublin would have a lot to explain. His lord did not take disappointment lightly.

------------------------------------------

From high on Mount Highpeak stood an archer. Radley Rivers watched the Calatian senator hobble away from the corpse, and he knew exactly who the man was. Aiming his bow with excellent precision, he set an arrow in place and pulled.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder lightly, causing him to jump, and yet he maintained control over his weapon. Beside to the cloaked sniper stood another black-hooded man. He spoke calmly to the ranger. "Let Calatia play their games," he said, implying well that he knew exactly what had come to pass. From this vantage point, Dogura was easily seen trudging away from the site, and the second man pointed to the rejuvenated samurai.

"I want that man to be protected at all costs. Calatia is after him, although I am unsure why. It would be in your best interests to see to it that he remains unharmed, Radley." Although the man's voice gave a commanding tone, it retained a kindly air, indicating the somewhat friendly nature of the individual. He let out a hoarse cough, staring down at the dead Goron. He, too, suffered my pain. I am truly thankful to be standing here; may the goddesses have mercy on him.

Radley understood the man's command very well. Standing and turning away from the desert below, he proceeded into a cave opening directly where the second man stood. In passing, he expressed his comprehension of his task. "If that's how it has to be, then I guess I'll have to comply. You don't sound too great..."

"I'll be fine. I just need rest..." came the quick reply, almost jolted from the man's mouth as if the statement had been expected. As Radley disappeared into the cave, the second man looked down upon the vagabond. He then turned and followed the sniper into his current home, to rest. Myst Wolfeye needed all the rest he could get.

OOC: Alrighty then, this is done. Royal Guard, you can lock this up. ZV (or anyone else who may have been reading this), send any comments or questions in a PM. I'd rather not fill up an ended thread with a dozen OOC posts XD