A Highway in Necluda

A murmur of voices rose from around the far bend in the road. With it the sound of horse hooves clopping on the dirt, wooden wheels creaking on loose axles, and the shuffled of dozens of feet came, too. The first line of faces were caravan guards, their faces weary but resolute all the same. They held old spears and halberds each of shoddy make, with shortswords linked to their belts as secondary measures. Behind them came the first wagon, drawn by two horses each controlled by a merchant holding the reins. Another line of guards, and another wagon, and so on and so forth until a veritable parade filled the winding pass beneath the cliffs. Though the guards looked about for anything abnormal, their vision was obscured by the high stone face to one side and uneven ground that forced their eyes forward and downward both. An easy target, for anyone with the knowledge and skill to take advantage.

The opportunity was not squandered. The sounds of wagons and footsteps was joined by crossbow bolts zipping through the air. The first volley met unsuspecting targets with ease, taking out half the guard and sending the rest into disarray. When the second bunch of shots came seconds later, many of the remaining guards and merchants had found cover in or around the wagons. An unsettling scream sounded from the head of the caravan, and there stood a bearded beast of a man with a curved blade in each hand. He followed his shout with a charge towards the survivors near the front wagon, and soon half a dozen more faces dashed down the road ahead of the merchant line. They ran down the trader's party, cutting down any standing in the road and ransacking each wagon, pulling out any cowering within to spill their blood upon the dirt as well. Within just a couple minutes, the majority of the merchants and their bodyguards were dead, and the remaining few began running in fear the way they came. But in a moment, their hurried footsteps were swapped for shrieks of terror, and then just silence.

From behind the caravan approached a monstrous looking Zora, larger by many of his breed in regards to mass. He bore the head of a killer shark, and his grey, scarred skin resembled that of a bloated, drowned corpse. He held a polearm in each hand, both now dripping with blood from their points and each radiating with unnatural energies. The brutal Zora approached the wagon furthest in the back, and wiped his bloody weapons on the cloth canopy. The bearded bandit approached and offered some sort of odd salute, and the two exchanged quiet words unheard to any at a distance. The sigil on the back of the bearded man's coat, however, was very plain to see. It was the same that each of the others had sewn somewhere on their outfit, apart from the spear-wielding Zora. The banner depicted a milky, swolen face under azure waves and above a bed of coral. The face had no eyes, with barnacles riddling its right half and a tattoo of crossed harpoons on the left cheek. It was a symbol known to many who lived on or by the seas of Hyrule's coasts. The Submerged. The remaining pirates began to grab the supplies from the wagons and toss them into the streets, eager to find the most valuable possessions first.

*Cue Damien*

Ugh.. What a morning. Damien had stopped a little too long at the latest inn. He had met two nice ladies and had a little too much wine. He had snuck out before the two ladies had awoken and continued his trip to find the rebels. Most of his hangover was gone now,  only a slight headache remained. He was sitting on the horse he had rented, named Old Dante, a cloak and hood wrapped around his massive shoulders to hide his identity. As the winds increased in strength, they cooled him off a bit, and he let out a sigh of relief as his headache eased ever so slightly.

Be it that he was now an exile, he was still popular among the ladies with his impressive physique and charm. He had thought long and hard (while Damien wasn't STUPID, he just wasn't always the fastest thinker), and had decided to join the rebels. It was time for a change. The king needed to be removed, hopefully without violence. He had nothing against Elphias personally, the man was just doing what was expected of him, but he was still part of the faulty system at the end of the day.

Grunting slightly every now and then, he was interrupted by the sound of clashing, of a battle! Immediately snapping to attention Damien approached the sound and eventually spotted the source. It took him one look at the men robbing the caravan and their emblem to recognize them. The Submerged, eh? Nasty fellas those, but Damien was nastier. He loosened 'Usurper' from the ropes tying it to the horse and dismounted. "Stay here, old boy", his deep voice muttered to the horse, almost bellowing even when he tried keeping it down. Sword in one hand now, the massive figure that was Damien Lyonsbane approached the caravan. 

Gently slapping his own cheeks to wake up properly, he arrived within earshot of the robbery in process. "You fellas seem like you need a hand", he told Vox and his people. "Good thing I showed up. I haven't kicked any pirate ass in quite a while. Even though I want as much of the fun as possible, don't just sit there pissing your pants, feel free to join in". He spat on the ground next to him, now adressing the pirates instead. "Aight, listen up, scumbags. Here's how this is gonna go down. I'm gonna count to three, and by then you will put down the loot and get the fuck out of my sight, or I'm gonna shove my boot so far up your asses you'll be pulling shoelaces out your nose". He counted the pirates, still a little too groggy to get their exact number. 'Crap', he thought. 'There's not enough of them.. How disappointing'. He still had not lowered his hood but these fellas weren't worth it anyway. He cracked his knuckles one at a time, loud enough for the faint of heart to cringe at the sound. "Bring it on, sissies", he said with a mocking tone, making a beckoning gesture with one of his hands. His giant sword now rested on his shoulder, and he was ready to roll.

From what he had heard the leader of the Submerged was quite a fighter and not one to be underestimated, but the rest of his little circus troupe weren't shit to Damien, and he'd squash'em in mere moments so he could focus on the bigger fish.. Pun intended.