“Focus more on that instead and less about dropping me into a lake.” Zant decided to keep a reasonable distance between himself and said Demon Lord. At that point, the helmet slid closed and the darkling gave a chuckle. “Though that lake would be more of a welcome than this damned desert.” The clothes he wore and the helmet were more meant to guard him against the harsh sunlight, and of course that did little to combat the heat. “Shall we gather our forces and march out?”
“Maybe the desert heat would bother you a little less if you deemed to wear a few less layers of clothes, Twili.” Ghirahim reached out to pluck at Zant’s sleeve. “Surely you must be wearing at least double your own weight in clothing.”
Letting out a rather dramatic sigh, the demon lord did his best to ignore his headache and tried to let some of his usual bloodlust make him feel better about this situation. “That plan is agreeable to me. The sooner I find something to kill, the sooner I can forget about this thrice-damned hangover.”
Zant was trying to focus on leading the troops to the keep over the hill and less about what Ghirahim was saying about his amazing clothes. Just the hangover talking,which he could respect. After all, his own wasn’t being to pleasant. Every cry of the moblins made a ringing in his helmet which was about to drive him insane. While the Usurper made it over the hill before the Demon Lord, he gave a sharp cry. “AMBUSH!!” He screamed aloud. The Hylians must have anticipated where they would be.
Ghirahim fell a little bit behind Zant as they walked, looking determinedly at the ground in an attempt to not feel too sick. His head snapped up at the Twili's cry, though, and in an instant he'd summoned two wickedly sharp swords to his hands.
"Ambush? Oh, please, I'd like to see them get past me." He ran forward, a little surprised at just how large the Hylian army seemed to be growing these days. Oh well, no matter. He could take them on. They were pathetic, nothing more than livestock to him.
