Gloomcaller (The Legend of Zelda BoTW/ToTK x Male Reader)

(I): Calamity

  The tale of the Calamity is one often told. The greatest tragedy of Hyrule, the battle that ended with the death of the kingdom's hope, and the sealing of evil itself within the iron gates of Hyrule Castle. An event that turned what was once a symbol of prosperity and hope into one of dread, of doom. A symbol of Calamity.

  Many a person now only recall tales from their parents parents of those who fought and died in the Calamity to protect their brethren, and many more recall the brave deeds of a swordsman who had been fated to battle in the front lines...

  Few, however, could ever recall the tale of one soldier in particular. One soldier who, in times of desperation and depravity, turned against his own. By giving himself to assist the same force he had sworn to help destroy, the man people once saw as a mere knight had became a force untamable, indomitable. A monster, truly terrifying, vicious, and calamitous, much like the master he served.

  Few survived the path of destruction left in his wake, but those who did gave him a name befitting of that death and despair.

  He was called the Gloomcaller, named for the dread he commanded from those who stood before him.

In the present day, one hundred years after the conclusion of the initial Calamity, few now know the name. A bitter irony from one who gave everything to be seen, only to be left without the same significance of his master, and left to be forgotten by history as the days passed...

...

Crack

...

Pop

...

Crackle

...

"..."

...

"...Awaken..."

  A sudden jerk and a deep breath in granted form to the world around a lone figure, starting with the low glow of a pile of coals. This marker of what had once been a blazing fire now only stood as a short bed, barely heating even the cool, musty air around it. The occasional crack or pop of the coals cooling off brought ambience to the area as the figure resting beside the fire began to stir.

  A few scattered pieces of plate armor loosely covered various parts of the body, from covering the entire left arm, shoulder to hands, to only protecting the hand and elbow of the right arm. Conversely, both legs were suitably armored below the knee, leaving the thighs unarmored. All these parts, these pieces of armor, had been carefully tied onto the body in an incomplete mess of a suit of armor, with the missing pieces sloppily replaced by sleeves of chain mail instead. All of this, worn by a lone figure with the final piece, a dented helmet sitting nearby, just beside a strange-looking device.

  A simple, metal handle that would fit comfortably in a grown adults hand would have seemed to make up the entire item, if it hadn't been for the lights that danced across it. Glowing a bright red, various lines and seams in the design gave the strange object an ancient, technological aesthetic, a relic one would expect to only find in ancient ruins.

  That same, strange device was snatched up in the armored right hand of the one resting by the campfire, turned over in an inspection that didn't last five seconds, and quickly slipped into a leather sheathe that seemed designed for it. From the wet grass, the worn helmet was similarly snatched up, as to avoid rust from the moisture that had gathered around it.

  This lone adventurer lifted their arms upward in a lengthy stretch outward as they let out a long groan of effort, freshly awake from their rest at the fading campfire. A shake of the head quickly whipped a mop of long hair into place, before it was pushed backward, behind the ears to be supported by a cheap hairband.