A group of Moblins stands outside of the Stock Pot Inn. With them they carry a massive sack of stolen bombs, which they pillaged from the Goro-Goro Cartel. You can only imagine how many Gorons lay slain at the Cartel Docks. The largest one, who you notice is a foot taller than the other three, and twice as muscular, opens the sack and removes a bomb.

These Moblins are of a different breed, you can tell that they do not hail from the great land of Hyrule. One key difference is the speech. Although gruff and barbaric, the fiends speak the Human language fluently, to a point. The leader stares at the bomb in his hand and laughs.

Eh-heh-heh, well boys, it's been a long time, but we finally did it. Let this "demonstration" be a reminder to the people of Hyrule that we, the strong and fearsome Mid-Dao tribe of eastern Calatia are far superior to the puny races of this wretched country.

Let the smoke of the fuse dehydrate the Zoras, the concussive blast obliterate the Gorons' rough hide.

Let Faeries be lost in an age of destruction, and the Hylian empire fall to its own tactics.

Let the Sheikah be exposed to the blinding flash, and the Dekus burn up in the fire we shall create.

Let me, Blank Mid-Dao, son of the great and powerful Ulkra Mid-Dao, rule over this land with the greatest esteem.

Let this inn be the first to feel our wrath. Bugor, Verdik, and you, too, Fillog, bombard this "humble abode" with your explosive rage.

The four Moblins begin to pelt the inn with their stolen bombs, and people can be heard screaming from inside. At this point there are lives on the line. It is clearly a pitiful attempt for a lowly group of foreign Moblins to try and force their way into rulership, but they are murderers nonetheless.

Does your warrior's passion burn brightly? Or does it flicker out as you watch the Moblins bring sorrow to your people? You are faced with that decision.

(OOC : If you are interested, you may want to read my backstory in my profile to find out who these guys are, if you havn't already.)

As the Moblins continue to throw bombs, the explosives suddenly begin pouring back out of the Inn! Inside is Alpha, using his staff as a bat to hit the bombs back where they came from, an angry expression on his face at the sight of such senseless murder.

One of the bombs hits the fattest Moblin, Fillog, in his left arm, causing him to drop a bomb. The bomb that hit him blasted through his limb, severing it and tearing it from his body, while the second bursts at his knee and causes him to stumble over, and he squeals in pain. The largest, Blank, yells out savagely at the other cronies.

Get your lazy hides into that inn, kill the Sheikah! He'll not ruin us like he ruined Wide Fillog!

Bugor and Verdik realize that Alpha is a true warrior and would not spare their lives if he gained the upper hand, but they can't stand to think of how Blank will kill them if they betray their leader. And so, fearing death either way, they enter the inn and climb the stairs to the second level, and corner Alpha in the room where he stands deflecting the explosives.

Just give up, Sheikah, it'll only hurt for a moment.

Verdik grinned maliciously as he drew a spined blade, which was the most unclean piece of steel to ever reflect daylight. It is caked with remnants of what were once body parts, and the actual blade is dyed orange from sundried blood. Flakes of dead skin crumble from the weapon and float lazily to the floor as he unsheathes his tool of murder. It is an attrocious sight.

Heh-heh, I'll stick you good, Shadow-man. Prepare for dea.... Oh, damnit.

As Verdik the Moblin utters his last words, a bomb comes sailing through the window, intentionally meant to decapitate a destracted Alpha. But further below, Blank Mid-Dao's aim and calculations are a tad askew. Rather than hitting the Sheikah dead-on, it flies past and strikes Verdik in his ugly snout, and he collapses, yelling a string of curses as the bomb removes his existence in mid-fall.

Bugor cries in agony at losing two of his brethren, but more at the loss of a double-team tactic. He draws a rusted scimitar and advances on Alpha, feeling less sure of himself after the death of Verdik.

Silently Denning enters the inn. He casts sheild on Alpha then, with staff in hand advances.

"Well, what are you boys doing? About to try and fight Alpha? Well, im here too, so youll have to fight me."

Denning gets into a battle stance and waits.

Bugor the cowardly Moblin jumps in fright. He glances at Denning and Alpha, two scholars, notorious as excellent spellcasters.

Two magic users? No way! I gotta get out of here!

As the Moblin turns tail and flees, he stumbles on the severed leg of Verdik and falls flat on his face. Realizing he's lost his only chance to escape, he shrinks to the corner of the room and begs for his life.

Please don't kill me! I never hurt a fly! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Just spare me!

Inside, however, even the most unintelligent of Moblins coould easily tell when life was about to desert them. Bugor realizes that this is his time.

"Denning!" Alpha yells out at the sight of his old companion. "Good to see you again; it's been some time."

Then the Moblin turns and tries to escape, falling on one of his former ally's legs. Alpha stifles a chuckle at the irony of that - a dead companion leading to his companion's death - but the fact is that the Moblin couldn't have escaped anyway. "You never hurt a fly, did you? There were at least three or four flies that were buzzing around my food when your bombs destroyed it! I'm sure you got at least one of them!"

Angered by the creature's (failed) attack, Alpha decides to try out one of the spells he's never actually used. He holds out his hand in the direction of the cowering Moblin. "Fire Spell!" He quickly snaps his fingers, and a burst of flame engulfs the beast's head, quickly burning through the skin and skull and taking out its brain, before it even feels the first flashes of pain. 'Quick and painless...not exactly what he deserved, but it's the same end result...and it makes me feel somewhat more merciful.'

Alpha quickly leaps out of the window and confronts the remaining Moblin. "Give it up, Moblin," he commands. The Sheikah holds out his staff, ready to either deflect bombs or cast spells, depending on the way the creature replies to his presence.

"Hm, perhaps you would do well as a meat sheild against my attack on Deoxolips, if he comes back, perhaps you are of use to me alive."

Denning smiles, he lets out a small laugh and aims the tip of his staff at the moblin, hopeing he did not know what Dennings magic was.

The last remaining Moblin snarls violently and drops the bag of explosives. Not wanting to be anhilated by Denning's magic after already being humiliated by Alpha, he decides that the war-beast's rule of cowardice was all he could resort to. And like all foolish masters, Blank Mid-Dao leaves his "army" to fight for him. Reaching to the pouch tied sloppily around his waist, he extracts a beaten, ugly flute, which looks as if it were an artifact from ancient Hyrulian times. It could definitely use some stain and varnishing, and the holes are clogged with pieces of rotting, undesirable meats. He places the sickening trinket at his disease-ridden hog lips and emits a loud piercing note. After the sound dies down, he is heard laughing hysterically. And in that instant, the Moblin Blank Mid-Dao turns from his fallen comrades and the warriors who are responsible for this humiliation and disappears into the woods. In his place, a score of Moblins, followed by a score of Goriyas arrive on the scene. They cackle evilly at the given opportunity to kill those who stand in their way. Blank can be heard yelling obscenities as his voice fades from range of hearing.

You think you've won, wizards? Well I never forget the faces of my enemies. I'll see your blood drained into the ground in front of me! You'll see! I'll return someday, and you'll wish you'd been staying at any other inn, mark my words.

As the arrogant beast's empty threat passes by, the forty monsters begin to assault the inn in their leader's place. Once again the bombs begin to fly. If only they knew who they were dealing with.

Alpha stands there the entire time, looking at the ground. Even as the Moblin flees into the woods, the only movement Alpha makes is clenching his fists together.

As the army of monsters charges forward, Alpha begins to shake...in anger. "A...a...

"A FLUTE!!!"

Anger rushes throughout the Sheikah's entire body. Flutes were the instruments of Zaboorak, had been used to destroy his home, had ruined his entire life. His memory burns with hatred, and so will his opponents, soon enough.

Alpha holds his hands, shaking with rage, vertically. "Fire Spell!" He slams his two hands together, and a loud clap is heard through the whole area. A infernal stream erupts from his fingertips and rushes outward, burning anything in its path to a crisp. And its path takes it through every single member of the opposing force.

One Moblin stands alive, but severely burned. His former expression of glee is replaced with anguish and pain. His entire body throbs and pulses, still lit in some spots. There is no skin left on his body, he is only a mass of bone, blood, muscle and overcooked meat. Every agonizing movement he makes causes more and more of his vital fluids to splash out. He has only enough energy to scream and commend Alpha and Denning for their valiance.

Oh my Go-... How in the hell... Why? WHY?! Augh! You bastards! Ughn... Such anger... well done, scholars, never have we been so easily defeated. But you havn't touched our leader. Mid-Dao is a tricky one, for a coward, anyway. He can get reinforcements. Then you'll pay, for what you've done to us... You, you just had to interfere... so typical for you non-chaos aligned goodies. Gah!

His last words desert him as he is drained of his limit of blood. The charred Moblin falls dead, like the other forty-two around him.

Blank Fireside arrives at the inn, but can barely breathe from the smell of the burning carcasses of the murdering tribe of bandits. He spots Denning and Alpha in the window above and waves, then enters the inn and speaks to them.

What... just happened here, you two? That smell is attrocious!

Alpha turns to face Blank, an angry scowl still on his face. "Some idiotic, cowardly, flute-playing Moblin just attacked this place with bombs. Now every one of his forces are dead except for the flute-player himself." The way Alpha speaks suggests that he considers the flute-playing the most insultory part of his speech.

"Hey you guys, I hope you remember this place is full of !"
Denning rushes to using his spell, he shiels the and lets them explode in the sheilds. He then rushes back to the group.

Damn, thanks Denning... this blood looks freshly spilled, this was just a few minutes ago? Maybe he didn't get too far away. Sounds like you bear a strong hatred to him and his flute. Should we follow him and make sure he never tootles on the damn thing again?

Alpha nods. "Most certainly." He glances around and his features suddenly soften. "Uh, Denning? Which way did he go, anyway?"

Denning looks around
"He ran into the woods. We should get going...now...he could not have gotten to far. In case theres an ambush, we should go with a sheild."
As Denning speaks he turns to the woods and starts walking.