⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ JAWESOME

1. Sidon is like 80? 90? here, he's restless for some outside Domain action, but I can't imagine his dad and the court being too eager to let him run around freely with like. All the monsters and such. So this is a compromise and the boy is rather grumpy about it lol.

The armor is very roughly based on unused designs from the totk artbook (we could have had Sidon with a cape TToTT)

2. Sidon is a pretty skilled warrior, but Bazz isn't the captain for nothing lol. I like to think Sidon relies a bit more on raw power instead of technique, which works well for slaying monsters, but not as much when sparring with someone who has actual experience and knows how to use his size against him.

(Bazz could be a bit less smug about it though. Seggin’s lessons were comparably painful, but the old man didn't waste time on stupid jokes at least).

(Also Sidon’s wearing his training set here, which is basically just an appropriately bigger version of the standard guard armor.)

3. Chill time in Sidon’s rooms~ bit rare these days, with both of them being so busy with work. Bazz only comes over when he really needs a break (it is a place where he's least likely to be randomly bothered) and Sidon will use the opportunity to get his hug quota.

4. Supportive bestie!!!! Bazz might be rather dry and not too eager to express his feelings, but he is not above being earnest when the moment calls for it,,,, and Sidon’s always just a bit flustered whenever it happens (and i mean come on, honest encouragement combined with gentle hand holding and tender bump on the crest, Bazz, you know what you're doing :v)

5. One of them famous Sidon’s Bone Crushing Hugs TM. Bazz is not a fan, but sometimes it's unavoidable. He endures, but does make sure to look extra displeased the whole time.

“Aw, come here, you big lug!” Ifora says, stepping to the big zora with her arms open wide for a bear hug. “How’s the fam?! I saw you with Mr. Thresh earlier! You with anybody else here?”

“Aw, sure! Yeah, Castov’s here, too-oof!” he says, gasping slightly as she squeezes hard. “You hear how he can see again?”

“Aw, that’s great, good for him! You’ll have to fill me in after the match!”

“Uh, yeah! Speaking of which…don’t you think we really ought to get to that?”

Ifora beams - not to Esis, but to the crowd immediately behind him.

“Already started. Hee hee!”

Esis yelps as Ifora’s embrace becomes a vice, the knuckles of her fist rolling along his back and popping three vertebrae before releasing completely. His vision swims as he staggers from the impromptu spinal realignment - not in pain, per se, but certainly distracted enough for her to land a few close-quarter punches against his abdomen and chest.

“Fooled yoooou!!”

“And THERE’s our opener!” Ruidoso calls, piping up over the audience’s reaction to the match’s start as Esis finally snaps to. “Ifora starting straight from a Gor Liggs Adjustment to the Darbanian Love Tap! Looks like Esis’ recovering quickly, though, riposting with a Raybun Reach Stance of his own!”

“Where does he come up with these names?!” Ifora yells, ducking and weaving between a swipe or two of Esis’ fists.

“Oh, I can—tell you that!” he replies, dodging a swing of Ifora’s own. “He’s using Shattered Mast’s Ancient Combat Codex!”

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, yeah! It’s a huge book kept in the barracks at Warrior’s Respite, this big old study of all the moves Chell’s seen fighters use over the centuries. It’s considered a real honor when they add you to it - they’ve seen all sorts of crazy stuff through the years, after OW!”

“And being able to S.M.A.C.C.-talk, chapter and verse, is a skill required of every SMASH announcer!” chimes in Ruidoso. “For example: Ifora making excellent use of the Gaebora Gambit to sweep a Esis with a Tatl-Bop across the jaw!”

Ifora blinks, breaking concentration to glance up at Ruidoso in disbelief.

“You must be kidding me.”

“Pages 548 and 62, respectively,” he replies, unable to keep a trace of smugness out of his voice. “You should give it a read when you’re done! Chell’s a very digestible read.”

“OWWW!”

“And there’s Esis with the Scrub’n’Duster Riposte!”

Curiosity sated (and her jaw aching), Ifora returns to the skirmish, doing her best to get in under Esis’ swinging dukes for some punishing punches of her own. Esis, meanwhile, does his best to keep Ifora out of easy close-quarters range, preventing her from sticking around for close jabs with a shuffle that’s uncharacteristically fast for such a short-legged species.

“You’re fast on your feet!” Ifora remarks after one particular swing goes wide. 

“Thanks! You’re no slouch yourself!”

“But can you dodge this?!”

With that, Ifora ducks Esis’ latest whallop, using her momentum from the dodge to slide across the sand to his side. Catching him off-guard, she lunges forward, aiming to knock him off with a side tackle–

“OOF!”

–only to find the dense weave of Esis’ cotton cape absorbing the brunt of the blow.

Oh, tough luck for Geru-dame!” chimes in Ruidoso. “It appears Perfect Powerhouse prepared for that play!”

“Ooh, nice alliteration.”

“Thank you, sir!”

But Ifora’s not finished yet. Once again taking advantage of her momentum (and Esis’ temporary admiration for Ruidoso’s wordplay),the Gerudo grabs the bottom tips of his cape, raises them high, and then whips them down hard. The fabric ripples hard, twisting around the zora, and Esis feels a sickening lUrCh as he’s forced by the very weight of his own outfit to twist back in the opposite direction.

Ifora’s there to meet his face with her fist.

“WhaaaAAA–”

POW!

“And Ifora nails Esis with a modified Parachute Pant Plant!”

Esis staggers back from the punch as the audience cheers, clutching his snout and letting loose a string of “RAZZIN’ FRAZZIN”-style curses in the place of actively foul language as his cape, its strained knots finally giving way, SLAMS into a crumpled heap in the sand with far more finality than one might expect. Ifora, surprised, rises from the spot where she planted her fist and approaches him, arms wide and a look of concern crossing her face.

“Mr. Esis? Are you all right?” she asks.

His answer to her is a coy grin from under his hands, followed by a sudden pair of hands planted about her waist—

“HEY!”

–as he hauls her into the air.

“Oooooh, hit by a classic Liarbird Scam!” Ruidoso exclaims as the audience erupts in enthusiastic booing. “And–yes! Now he’s taking Geru-dame along for an aptly-named Gerudo Sunrise! This is why you wait for the judge’s call, folks - you never know how your opponent’s going to use your goodwill against you!”

Around and around and around he goes, gripping Ifora’s waist and swinging her like an Olympic hammer he’s about to release. Ifora yelps, trying to pry his fingers loose, but it’s a losing battle: he’s got his mitts shut tight, and a vaguely manic look crosses his bloodied face as he grins at her.

“No hard feelings, Ms. Ifora!” he says. “That trophy’s as good as mine!”

He lets go on that last word. Ifora sails clear, sprawling through the air, yelling and tumbling wildly from his haphazard release. It’s not an especially far throw (only about two to three body lengths for the young Gerudo), but the resulting impact is certainly enough to knock her silly as she spins and kicks up sand.

“Looks like Esis went for a lateral throw, folks!” narrates Ruidoso. “Only so-so on the range and speed - but you can’t beat it for sheer surprise!”

Ifora remains sprawled where she is as Esis approaches her, taking a leaf out of the previous match’s book to stretch and drink in the ostentatious fan-hate. As Ruidoso begins the countdown, noting Ifora’s prone position, he kneels down and playfully places a finger atop her forehead.

“Hope you don’t mind the trick,” he says, giving her a wink. “But thanks for the match!”

Ifora moans in response,twisting slightly at Ruidoso five-second mark.

“You’re…welcome…” she mumbles.

Then her arm lashes out, catches him behind the neck–

“...But I’M NOT DONE YET!”

—and SLAMS his face into the sand.

“Holy Farore, folks!” Ruidoso cries as Ifora springs back up, looking remarkably none the worse for her condition. “Geru-dame manages an excellent reversal on a reversal, proving even hardened veterans can fall prey to their own hubris!”

“Man, you’re right!” Ifora says as Esis stumbles back to his feet, spitting sand and other debris. “That is a handy trick!”

“Anything to–PLAGH–teach another–PTH–rookie in the ring–PTOOIE!” Esis responds, right before dragging his tongue on his wrist in an awkward attempt to get the grit out. “But this is where it gets–huh?”

This latest surprised grunt comes courtesy of Esis finally clearing his eyes and realizing Ifora is no longer anywhere to be found. His face does a triple-take as he tries to deduce her location; unfortunately for him, the same wind that let that dense cape rustle in the wind has covered up her tracks in the loose island sand.

“Hey! What gives?!” he says, glaring up at Ruidoso. “You’re supposed to be telegraphing what we’re doing!”

“Now, now, I was!” the announcer says, making a placating motion with his wings. “Though I do believe your ears were a bit blocked at the moment. I can repeat myself, if you like–”

“No need!” echoes a voice from within one of the piles of wrecked crates strewn across the arena. “Man, we REALLY ought to check these ships out more often!”

A hand waves out from the cache - as does a long, blunted wooden pole with a sharpened tusk strapped to it. A moment later, so, too, does the rest of Ifora.

“Come on, Mr. Esis!” she says, waving him over even as she looks through a box full of various armaments. “They’ve got all SORTS of stuff in here! Staves, spears, wands…bananas? Why would they have bananas in here? - oooh, and swords! C’mon, pick something out, let’s have a proper duel!”

Esis, slightly taken aback, stammers for a moment.

“Uh-um, sure?”

Then he perks up a bit.

“You know what? Yeah! Sure! Let’s do this!”

“Well, this is certainly a change, folks!” Ruidioso announces as Esis lopes over to join.  “Rookie Geru-dame FORFEITS HER CHANCE to press the attack with her martial superiority UNTIL both of them are equally kitted out! What do you think he’ll pick out, folks?”

It’s a modest collection, all told, once Esis gets a chance to pore over it. There are no legendary weapons here, no Swords of Mastery with which one might effect another’s demise. All the items are certainly capable of producing lethal results, but it’s clear that either (a) their intent was only ever to train with, or (b) they’ve been so neglected over time that they’d break if they were ever used for anything but that. 

There’s a moment as the two of them stand shoulder to shoulder, peering at the items with some interest. Their heads turn in tandem, even tilting at the same time and at the same angle to stare questioningly at the offending fruit on the side. As Esis reaches out to grab an item, however, he’s met with a choir of “oooh’s” from the audience - one that appears to grow in intensity the closer he reaches for it, and lowers as he shies away. He looks up to the crowds, reaching blindly for each item, noticing a similar reaction, and tries to gauge from their intensity which item they approve of.

“So what do you think you’ll go with?” asks Ifora.

“Hrm…”

Esis considers for a moment more, looking to the audience…then shrugs and sucker-punches her instead.

“I’m just more of a fists guy, you know?” 

Esis’ fist sends Ifora sprawling amidst a choir of boos. This time, however, the Gerudo’s ready to play. Before Ruidoso can even name his technique (a Bulbin Bash, for those interested), Ifora digs her new spear into the sand, reducing her skid to a halt, and leverages her grip to swing an about-face back to Esis. Planting her feet in the sand with a dry plaph, she yanks her spear up, twirls it about with a ninja’s flourish, and jabs it back at him, grinning.

"Got me again, Mr. Esis!" she says, laughing. “Now let’s see those fists up FRONT!”

“This newbie’s not backing down for an instant, folks!” Ruidoso calls out as she leaps back. “Going from a Kiki Sliding Recovery to a Lanian Riposte–”

“Now those can’t be real–”

“Two-sixteen and twelve-eighty-two--and it certainly looks like Powerhouse won’t be making it easy, either: just look at that fancy footwork!”

He’s certainly not wrong on the footwork: while Ifora’s found one way to circumvent Esis’ range superiority with her spear, Esis is also moving far faster than he had during the early stages of the fight, twisting and shuffling in ways that frustrate her swings and jabs. Skittering along the sand like some particularly top-heavy basilisk, he dodges again and again, even bouncing through a hastily-improvised cartwheel at one point to dodge Ifora’s forward lunge.

“Just LOOK at that Darmani Starter Roll!” continues Ruidoso, bellowing  over the crowd’s roars. “Perfect Powerhouse is certainly proving the ‘Power’ in his name - just how is he managing to speed up this far in the match?!”

“Yeah, how ARE you doing it?!” demands Ifora, ducking one of his own punches - but a split second later, she gasps.

“Of course!” she exclaims. “The CAPE!”

Esis grins. 

“Thought–it came off by itself–didn’t you?” he says, breathing a little heavily as he twists from dodge to attack. “That was—a tactic!”

art by @gargoylesister!

This time, it’s the audience that responds, with half of it looking at the other in confusion.

“A tactic?!”

Clearly the use of Brains Over Brawn is a spice most spectators don’t experience in their Esis Stew.

“That’s right!” he breathes, slapping aside Ifora’s spear as he monkeys about in place. “That cape’s – a POWER LIMITER - keeps me from moving about too much in the early stages – so that when you’re tiring out–I! FIRE! UP!”

Esis punctuates this with a forward lunge of his own that ducks Ifora’s spear, his tail snaking around it on all sides, and delivering a vicious uppercut that connects with Ifora’s solar plexus.  It’s an attack that sends her stumbling back, clutching her spear and gasping for breath, and leaving Ruidoso’s beak running a mile a minute above.

“A SURPRISE ATTACK from the Powerhouse! Going from a CLASSIC Hinox Ballast Drop into the Barban Serpentine and WHAT A CONNECTION! Geru-dame’s not looking too good after that shot, can she recover in time?!”

“You’re–really good, you know that?” Ifora gasps, tapping her fist against her chest in an attempt to regulate her breathing. “That was - a real surprise!”

“Hah–thanks!” replies Esis, himself breathing hard before swallowing. “You, uh–th-think you’re ready to surrender yet?”

“Hannggghhhhh–no, no, no, no!” says Ifora, making one last sucking gasp before standing tall and brandishing her spear. “I’m here ‘till you pin me or knock me out! Come on, Mr. Esis, let’s do this!”

“...Crap.”

Ifora moves in for another barrage  of attacks - and while Esis manages to keep his footwork going, the reason for his swearing becomes immediately apparent: it appears his massive speed boost was a massive miscalculation. Ifora is beginning to flag; that much is obvious from the speed of her swings and jabs. However, the rate at which she’s beginning to fatigue is nowhere near his own. Esis is panting hard, stumbling between dodges, and his tail is flailing badly as he fights to maintain balance. As his shuffling in the dry sand becomes more haphazard, Ifora begins to connect more and more blows on him, hitting with vicious blunt jabs to his pectorals, abdomen, and triceps.

“Oooooof, that has got to hurt!” Ruidoso reports as Esis staggers. Geru-dame catching up fast on Perfect Powerhouse, getting him with the Boko One-to-Three! Can he keep his reserves up long enough to pull ahead? Could this be it for the Perfect Powerhouse?!”

“Come on—Mr. Esis–don’t give up!” Ifora cheers, between gasps of breath. “I’m giving it–all I got…”

She readies her spear for a particularly nasty shot for his abdomen.

“You should–too–!”

And she stabs forth.

As the spear rockets toward him, Esis’ hands clap onto it on either side, halting it just before it can punch the breath from his lungs. Shouts of surprise and disbelief rise from the crowd as the two of them stand, locked in place, Ifora trying to pull her spear from Esis’ clutches, Esis trying to tear it from her hands. For several seconds, neither of them move, save for their grunts of effort - and the crowds cheer all the harder.

“We’ve a Rusted Keyhole Gambit, S.M.A.S.H.ers!” yells Ruidoso. “Both opponents are losing strength fast - who will emerge victorious?!”

“I’m not…giving…up!” growls Esis.

“Neither…am…I!” Ifora growls back.

The tension builds as the seconds tick by, the two of them heaving on either end of the spear, doing their best to get it under their control. Sweat pours down Ifora’s face in the blazing island heat as her hands slip along the spear’s rough contours, trying to break his grip and force it forward. Esis’ jaw sets askew and his triceps twist and ripple, his already-slick hide shedding water at an alarming rate as he attempts to lift both spear and Gerudo from their intended target.

With an almighty strain, the two of them shout in unison - and at long last, worn down both by the match and years (decades?) of use and neglect, the spear shatters, splinters flying into the air as the remaining fragments tear out of both fighters’ hands.

“AH-HAAAAAH–”

Esis’ cry of victory is cut short as Ifora barrels into him, using the forward momentum of her earlier exertion to exert a brutal forward tackle. Esis’ eyes bulge as over seven feet of solid Gerudo muscle lines up behind her shoulder, and his body folds in around his sternum as she connects all that force into that point of his body.

“GOTCHA!”

Esis falls back on the sand, eyes crossing as Ifora lands atop him. Before he’s even aware of what’s happening, she worms one arm under his neck, wrapping around the side of his head and clamping her fingers on the base of his tail. He’s only dimly aware of her other hand and how his other leg moves, seeming only of its own accord, folding up against his abdomen until he’s looking nearly at his own foot. Interminable seconds pass in which his hamstring sears, feeling set afire, and then—

“--THREE!”

“YEAHHHHH!”

The haze of pain from that hyperextension fades as Ifora releases, scrambling to her feet to pump her fists as the crowd cheers. Senses gradually return to Esis as his thigh comes back down, and he has to brace himself as a pair of hands tug him back to upright before he’s quite ready.

“Goddess Din, what a GREAT fight!” Ifora exclaims, swinging Esis’ hand up with her own. “And you do this all the time?!”

“I, uh..yeah,” he breathes, still winded from the fight (and especially the tackle). “Less so, these days, but–”

“Then I’ve got to come here more often, if only to see you in them!” 

Ifora’s looking similarly beat, heaving for breath, several ugly bruises and a black eye already beginning to form on her face and shoulders. Her expression is positively beaming, however, and the subject of that joy blushes slightly as he scratches the base of his tail in stupefaction.

“Well, ah, you might not find yourself too impressed with my record,  but–”

“Oh, pish-posh!” she cuts in. “You gave me an incredible fight - there’s no way I could get tired of seeing you out there! And hey - there’s always the next fight, am I right?”

Esis grins sheepishly despite himself. 

“Yeah, you’re right!” he says. “I look forward to seeing you at more of them!”

“You got it!”

=========

As both Gerudo and zora wave to the crowd, Ruidoso flaps above them, gesticulating animatedly at them with every blast of his enormous downy wings.