NAYRU CLASS FINALS: MATCH SEVEN
Time passes….
Roughly half an hour had passed since the Shattered Mast Isles bore witness to the battle within the HMS Kooloo Limpah. The medic tents had bustled with activity since that point, its attendants hard at work administering spells of healing and potent tinctures, and the crowd was as crowded as ever with excited viewers and ecstatic sellers spreading decorative body paint and hawking wares.
As the sun began setting, setting the sky on fire with its ruby haze, its resident announcer tapped his chest, cleared his throat, and spoke in decibels that called everyone to attention.
“Honored Guests of the Shattered Mast Isles!” he proclaimed atop the Arena’s dais. “As the first of our Division Titles reaches its apex, it has been requested that I stand aside and allow for our Master of Ceremonies to address you all. This I do with the utmost honor - so, without further ado…”
The great white bellbird spread his impressive wingspan wide, tilting them slightly upward even as he bent down in an impressive bow.
“...Please turn and cast your eyes skyward to receive the wise words of MASTER! CHELLLLLLLL!”
An arena-wide applause slowly faded to uncertainty as the audience turned and looked up, trying to figure out how such an enormous chelonian could evade notice for so long. People squinted skyward, squinting their eyes, but it wasn’t until a sharp-eyed Gerudo girl pointed towards one of the island peaks that it became clear exactly where they were.
High atop the island, straddled within the recesses of its dueling peaks, extended a simple pair of split stone boulders which served as platforms for a simple viewer’s box. From this far down, far from a true birds-eye view, it was impossible to tell what existed atop this base, but those viewers possessing sharp enough eyesight could just barely make out a massive turtle creature approaching its edge. Their footsteps quaking, their head doddering, the turtle raised their jittering arms to the crowd, and spoke in weak, reedy tones to the crowd.
“My most…honored guests…I–”
“LOUDER!”
Several heads snapped about, firing dirty looks at an impossibly wide, flame-bearded goron lounging from within one of the Arena’s competitor boxes - the clear source of this blasphemous shout. The goron refused to show humility before his disgusted onlookers, instead lazily raising a handful of pulverized zonaite ore to cram into his mouth as one might popcorn.
“What, you think YOU kin’ hear ‘em?” he demanded, spraying ore everywhere. Then, to the turtle themself: “LOUDER, YOU TERRAPIN TWERP!”
To their credit, Chell did not seem to take offense (at least, that people could see from so far up). Instead, they merely nodded, shuffling closer to the edge while they sucked wind for another attempt.
“My most honored guests—”
“LOUDERRRRRR!”
The goron grinned. This time, he wasn’t alone: several others joined in the catcall, clearly eager to hear Chell themself (and more than a little peeved at the how far away they seemed to be). This time, too, the old turtle showed the barest note of annoyance: they looked directly in his direction, took another shuffling step forward…
“My most honored–”
…and promptly toppled off the edge.
The audience gasped in shock as Chell plummeted, then screamed as the great turtle creature slammed shoulder-first into the mountain rock below. The blow’s angle of attack sent Chell ricocheting away, spinning wildly through the air, and few were ready for the resulting KRAK when they made contact again.
Down the turtle went, retreating into their shell only after the third rebound, long after any damage from their initial blows were sustained. They caromed down the slope, dug into the trench carved by the peak’s summitward split, and shot towards the arena like a coin on its edge. Hitting a ridge just above the aisles, they then shot straight into the air.
Audience members screamed, dodging out of the way as the enormous chelonian sailed over them, scattering wind, sand, and rock debris everywhere. Few noticed the way it seemed to right itself while spinning, nor how it followed a precise path that avoided sightseer injury. After all, they were running for their lives as a Din-class terrapin hurtled through the air above them. Who had the time to ponder such menial things?
Chell’s shell smashed multiple glancing blows with the arena, skipping across the ground with enough force to leave multiple impressive craters behind it. With one last “skip,” it bounced once more into the air, forcing Rudioso himself to take flight as it crashed onto the dais, skidding slowly to a spinning stop.
Hushed whispers flooded the onlookers.
“What happened?!”
“Are they dead?”
“How old even were they?!”
“Who the heck is even running this thing–”
All talk changed to a collective GASP as the shell shook on stage. With a lurch, it pitched back - and then in a single, fluid, surging movement, limbs shot out from every opening as Chell leapt back to their feet.
There was a moment’s stunned silence.
Then: cheers.
“GYAHAHA! Thank you! Thank you!” the elderly turtle said, slowly raising their hands to calm the din as the audience worked through its own burst of adrenaline. “Oh, the look on your faces! You didn’t think dear little me would get hurt in a fall, would you?”
===========================
Back in the competitor boxes, the flame-haired goron chuffed, slathering cement paste over a triple-decker meatrock sandwich.
“...Would make the job easier fer me,” he muttered, taking a bite.
===========================
“...But yes!” continued the great turtle. “I have asked for time before the final match…and thus, time I shall take!”
Reaching into their shell’s right side, Chell produced a censer, lighting it with a tinderbox from their left. Placing it atop the ceremonial kettle drum, they stood aside as it produced three plumes of smoke that crept off the drum’s sides: one red, one green, one yellow.
“You know, of course, how we name the weight classes at these Shattered Mast Isles,” they intoned: “Nayru, Farore, and Din, for the goddesses who created the continent to our north.
“Now, one could be tempted to call our fighters in Nayru Class small. Unimpressive. Meek! I mean, I am rather predisposed to another class myself, haha! Surely I would find myself bored of these smaller fighters, would I not?”
Two of the smoke plumes, the green and red ones, trailed off as they left the kettle drum. The blue plume, however, expanded, rising over the dais, and a number of small, ghostly white lights twinkled in them as they slowly surrounded Chell.
“GYAHAHAHAHA! Of COURSE not!” they cackled. “Nayru Class may not embody sheer power, as a certain other weight class might imply, but they are the love, the PASSION, the ZEAL of the sport! And not ONCE has this division of fighters failed to disappoint on that today!”
Those ghostly lights began to flit about Chell, flashing bright as fireflies in the blue smoke. As they did, the audience saw faint silhouettes forming in the miasma: afterimages, split-second snapshots, smoky forms resembling some of the most memorable moments in each fight up until now. Kezo’s suplex from the very first match, Tassa’s aerial running technique, Hermin’s Eldin Thunderstorm, Jak’s Fat Frox Elbow Drop and Crystalline’s returning Zephyr Strike, Bobkoblin’s Calabaza Cannonade…and, of course, Vaati’s Stonefist Slammer and Thresh’s Gorcoron Fallaway Suplex.
“Whether dancers or painters, swordsmen or guardians, EACH of our participants have brought their all to these fights! Even those we may consider our least - that bokoblin fellow certainly brought his love of the fight to us, did he not? To say nothing of that lad with the sandwich, GYAHAHA!”
Chell crossed their arms just before swinging them back out, fanning the smoke out. The lights flew out in all directions, creating a dome over the dais at least fifty feet wide, flying past Rudioso (who, at present, still soared over Chell). They erupted, simultaneous, creating a shower of sparks that lit the stage below that radiant red sky.
The audience applauded…then slowly died down, allowing Chell to speak once more.
“It is that fighting spirit that makes these islands a sacred place,” they continued. “It is that precise spirit, that love of the fight, that ensures that, even throughout the century-long Calamity in the North, everyone finds a way to come to the Shattered Mast Keys.
“May that same love of the fight continue to imbue our Nayru Class Finalists - and may this final fight of the division be ONE FOR THE AGES! GYAHAHAHAHA!”
As the audience cheered, Chell gathered their censer, gave them a shallow, playfully shaky bow, and then nodded up to Rudioso, who took that as his cue to dive back down. Flaring his wings at the last second before landing, he put one of them around Chell’s enormous backside as he waved to the audience with the other.
“Oh come on, S.M.A.S.H.ers, how can I possibly top that?” he joked. “You can’t!--so instead, can I get a BIG HAND for the INCREDIBLE fighters of Nayru Class?!”
Of course he could. This was S.M.A.S.H., after all, and he was Rudioso.
“And another hand for our final fighters! On your left: you know him by now! He brought carnage to the cassa-rito, and a bloodbath to the bokoblin! He’s brought a blade for every ridge on his opponent’s body! Don’t get between him and his quarry: this time, he’ll be taking those teeth HIMSELF! Give that Shattered Mast Keys welcome to the Sheikah Samurai himself, the Violent Violet, VAATI THE YIGA KILLLERRRRRRR!” @kakarikotrio
“And on your right: He’s the fish who cracked the dawn, the shark who endured the thunderstorm, and the man who made a MEAL of our final semifinalist! He’s here to lay the hurt on Vaati, and has the claws to make it happen! Don’t let him box you into a corner, for THAT box will be the one he mails back your remains! Give a S.M.A.S.Her’s island welcome to that fiery fighting fish, the Scourge of Volica, Nayru Class’ very own THRASHIN’ THREEEESH!” @chaotic-zora
“You all know what happens now - it’s a duel for the ages and that most coveted of prizes, the NAYRU CLASS CHAMPIONSHIP! Get on the edge of those seats, for that’s all the seat you’ll need - for this year’s Nayru Class final battle starts in THREE…TWO…ONE!”
dongggggggggg
“LET’S! GET! READY! TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
FINAL MATCH Vaati vs. Thresh: Who will Triumph!
Vaati
Thresh
