They came quietly, despite the usually loud and clumsy demeanor of such a species. They wore cloaks to hide their true features, which would confound any and all castle town dwellers and would result in Royal Guard action. They couldn't afford to have those silly Knights running after them. Dressed as monks in their loose brown robes, the creatures beneath the hoods grinned like savages. But they were idiots nonetheless.

They carried in their great, bulking left hands identical spears, carved from the thickest trees of the Western kingdom. These weapons were topped by iron spearheads, but despite the unity amongst these heads they were nothing short of poor. Scratched, chipped and without emblems or fine detail, they were simply sharp, iron slabs cut to a fine point. The right hands of the robed “men” were hung loosely at their sides, but were ever-ready to grab hold of their spears in case of “emergency.” A few would step out of line to steal from children, or to scare passing townspeople. This made it frighteningly easy to tell that these were not civilized people.

Disguised as simpleton monks, they made their way to a short, dirty building. A few would step out of line to steal from children, or to scare passing townspeople. The Moblin in the lead opened the door and stood by as his small horde entered. One of the chieftains had been slaughtered mercilessly only a month before - it became excruciatingly obvious that there was someone out there who could kill them. The lower ranks were easy prey for everyday adventurers, but it was quite a great feat to take on one of the lead Moblins and prevail so horrendously. No, the power that these Moblins had been endowed with over the years was far too great for one of the higher-ups to be defeated. If the man were to know their identities... chaos.

They had been instructed by the Chief to come to the castle town dressed as monks. This was going quite well, although even monks - who could go weeks without bathing - never smelled so horrifyingly putrid. The leader of this secretive operation was ranked just below the Chief of the tribe, and was to oversee this objective carefully. Higher authorities were paying these foul, loathsome creatures a great deal to concede to this operation.

But they would not get the chance to perform their intentions. A red-haired man stepped up to the closed door, his eyes alive with concern, but remaining calm all the while. The daytime sun beat down across his back, and as he turned around it was obvious who you were looking at. Blank Fireside caught sight of you and frowned visibly before shaking off the negative emotion and replacing it with a tired smile, one that was clearly worn with apprehension. Then, without a word, he turned back, and kicked open the door. The structure of the wood was so poor that rather than swing in quickly, it splintered and broke from the impact. But the nomad hadn't noticed. He dashed inside the empty house and was lost from sight. The broken door hung open on its hinges, the quaint, abandoned house calling you in. You were faced with two options: Follow the Hylian into the house after the masquerading Moblins, or turn away. Of course, those who didn't know Blank could probably still sympathize the need to investigate the austere monks that the nomad was following.

OOC: Hello, everyone! This topic is for anyone interested, and I sincerely hope I get a lot of people to join. Do you dare follow Blank after the Moblins? See what awaits you past that shattered door; I encourage everyone to jump right in!

Worru awoke with a fright, the sound of a door breaking having been the culprit. He had looked at the aforementioned door just to see a red-headed man enter it. He had seen this man before...what was his name? Empty?...no, that wasn't it...Space? Uh-uh...Wait, his name was Blank! That was it!

Worru stood up, brushing himself off, and went to the door, now wanting to follow this man into the house. Stepping carefully over the broken parts of the door that stayed on the hinges, he entered the house slowly, ready to draw his blade, Swiftspirit, at any moment, should an enemy make itself known.

OoC: Hey Blank! I'll help you hunt down these monsters!

IC:

Sovelis was watching the 'Monks' with an intent eye as the sun shone down upon North Castle. The shabby house they had entered ws one that the Tempest had walked by many times on his way out o town, or back into town, depending on what he was doing. When he saw Blank Fireside kick the door in, and then go INSIDE, did Sovelis get a little worried. Okay...either Blank hates monks, or theirs some dirty buiesness afoot. he thought as he say the son of Labufa go inside, Worru. Well, this just gets better and better with every passing minute! I guess I beter go join this little party. I don't want to get left out, now do I? he said as he raised his hood, gripped his staff tightly in his hands, and swiftly ran across the street, stoping agianst the wall next to the door. Sovelis took a deep breath, and carefully walked inside, ready for anything...[Dodge check!]

"I wonder why A man like Blank is following some monks? Sure, they stink, but their still monks. Perhaps I should check this out." Kasei said from a distant rooftop. The mercinary ran towards the building Blank entered. Buy the time he got there, Worru and Sovelis were inside. Drawing his scimitar, Kasei cautiously went inside, letting his shiekah senses search for a potential ambush. [Dodge check]

~Chuckles was not a happy Moblin. It had been a long and tiresome day, and he had been looking forward to some slaughter earlier in the day just to have it taken from him, and then to add insult to that, he had to force his massive frame into some brown priest robes! He didn't want to be a priest, he wanted to kill the damn priests.

He had inherited most of his father's appearance. Dark teal skin, pig-like appearance and constant lust for blood were his patrilinear inheritance. However, his goron mother had given him traits just as useful; goron strength massive bulk and nearly rock hard skin. All of these were perfect for being a moblin, but even that didn't hide the heavy stentch of blood on him.

The half-goron mumbled to himself. He was currently surrounded by some of his least favorite moblins. Usually, he would just crush their skulls with his giant spiked club, but the chief had ordered for no squabbling between the ranks. Apparently their goal was more important than fights between the moblin, but the huge moblin didn't believe that rubish. Chuckles could barely restrain himself as he heard more taunts about his name. His damn mother had named him, and ever since he started to live amoung other moblins he had been insulted about it. Well, that was until he got bigger. Then he had adopted the moblin-like name "Mulnash." That commanded a great deal more respect than "Chuckles."

The moblin wouldn't be doing any of this marching at all if it weren't for the chief's orders. Although he didn't always agree with the commands, to him the chief was a god, as was the moblin in charge of this operation. He would follow them to the end, but that didn't mean he wouldn't complain about it.

Still grumbling, he had to duck his head to pass under the door frame and continue on with the other constumed moblins, while spining his mace lazily around in a circle. In his other hand, his grip on his own spear tightened. Unlike many people and moblins, he had the pure strength to be able to use two two-handed weapons at once and on the battle field, they were quite effective. However now, there wasn't anyone to impale or bash. He needed someone to kill and soon before he snapped and crushed one of his comerads.~

~Meanwhile, Pyre was watching the parade from the shadows of an alley, eyes narrowed. Although they looked like priests, he wasn't fooled. A combination of their bulky appearance and their smell kind of gave it away, and it helped that one of the moblins walking along was larger than any priest would be. Unless the church was taking gorons into service now.

Pyralin really hated moblins. Although, he had nothing against a little chaos, these beings were just filthy and evil, and deserved nothing but death. However, their numbers were quite a bit daunting. It would be hard to attack these pigs head on and survive.

The ranger was thinking about just tracking them and using gorilla tactics to pick them off one by one, until he spotted Blank slip into the building after them. It seemed that the nomad had much the same idea. The hylian slipped quietly out of the shadows, and walked across the street, quickly dissapearing through the wooden portal and onwards into the darkness after his friend.~

(((OOC: Oh, and of course, I got permission to do this...)))

(((OOC: mmmm that was a craptastic post. I'm sorry Blank. It got all the ideas down, but it's not very coherant. Oh well, I'm not a morning person.)))

This feels a bit stiff...guess I can break it in over time though. Saber thought as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was inside the clothing shop--A rarity for him, as he hardly needed more than two changes of tunics; One for day, one for night--but after a certain fiasco in which his tunic was thoroughly soaked in the blood of a rather resilient Moblin, he felt it wouldn't cause too much pain to his wallet to have it replaced.

Two minutes later, outside the shop, he realized he was wrong. His pathetically limp rupee satchel swung at his hip, the wind catching it every time he turned or moved faster than a slow walk. Not only that, but this tunic was overly tight. Especially the arms--He eyed the constricting sleeves with disgust, before reaching over and attempting to tear it off. This was a rather thick material though, as his effort was in vain and it did little but stretch slightly. Cursing, he angrily grabbed his saber and swung it withing a secong, the top of the sleeve with a hole near the shoulder. A second later, the sleeve on his right arm was being worn in the same fashion, but not for long. He ripped the sleeves down the rip furiously until they were off, and he eyed the fabric.

It was almost the exact same hue as the previous tunic; a bit lighter, but that would fade over time. He looked back to his shoulder and double-checked to be sure he hadn't injured himself, but his abnormally pale skin showed no sign of scarring. Happy at last, he stretched before stowing the saber back in it's sheath and starting on his way. In his inattentiveness, however, he nearly plowed over a particularly foul smelling monk, and was about to make a hasty apology when he realized there was a long procession of them heading towards a small shack. They didn't seem to be very monk-like, as they all held weapons and even terrorized the passing civilians. His suspicions were only furthered when Blank hurried past, apparently not even seeing the mercenary. Sabertache didn't know much about the firey-haired Nomad, but he did seem to grasp that he didn't exactly enjoy a Moblin's company. He debated following, at the same time wondering if the monks really were Moblins as he suspected, or just of a rather unorthodox sect.

Even if he WAS right, and this was related to the Explosive Incident from not so long ago, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to help. After all, he ended up plowing through mud in a relentless rainstorm, getting mauled by a peevish Goron Guard who seemed to have forgotten to take his happy pills, broke his ankle and had it hastily mended by the Goddesses within a minute as he hobbled into a cave, having said cave nearly collapse on top of him because of a slight miscalculation in his battle plan, and then ending up resting against a mutilated Moblin corpse in a pool of blood. However, Blank WAS...well...they really weren't friends...they hadn't talked much, he knew practically nothing about him...Blank had also never done a thing for Saber as well...So he didn't owe him...

So I have no reason to go, but plenty to stay.Saber thought with a half smile as he saw several other figures follow Blank into the house. I guess that means... His hand twitched as it rested on the hilt of his saber. It had just felt a sharp pain in the palm for no reason. Fine...fine...I suppose I'll go and help anyways...it's the right thing to do... He trotted towards the building, drawing his saber again after examining his palm and finding nothing. Damn my morals... Was his last thought as he entered the doorway, not thinking of an ambush or anything else of the sort--So many people had gone in before him, surely any traps would have been sprung by now. He sauntered through, saber loose at his side but still ready, as he looked around curiously, tugging on his new tunic to try and make it fit a bit more comfortably as he looked for the positions of the other adventurers. [Open Target Check]

OOC: Open Target Check? That's a new one. Awareness procedure it is ^^

IC:

Saber's Open Target Check is completely successful (12+4 [Roll+INT]) vs 15 - Success), and as he stepped into the small home he could instantly catch sight of people who were all at least somewhat famous around Hyrule for their epic tales of deeds and glories... And in Kasei's case, explosions of mass chaos. Assembled in the room now were Worru, Kasei, Sovelis, Pyralin and Saber... but where was Blank? The room was well lit due to the door being wide open - sunlight streamed into the house like a beam from the heavens, and small slits of said beam could also slip in through the messily boarded windows of the building. Blank was not hiding in the bare room.

The walls were stained, and the only piece of furniture was a cabinet in the far right corner. Small holes dotted the baseboards of the seemingly abandoned homestead, just large enough for the mice who had made them. At one point there must have been carpet laid out on the floor, but now there remained only a barren wooden surface with several tracks of mud and related filth stained to it.

One thing that every man present could never miss was the incredible hole at the center of the house. It was just large enough to fit a large beast, but small enough that a half-Moblin half-Goron would have a tight fit going down. But a character like Blank? No problem for his lithe build. A rickety ladder that looked shaky but strong enough to hold several large people at once was hanging from the hole's mouth and stretched down into the dark underground, beneath the Castle Town. Snarls, grunts and thundering footsteps resonated from the dirt walls of the vertical tunnel - the “monks” were only a ladder's climb away, and that meant that the nomad was closer. The sound of feet hitting rock echoed back up to the five adventurers assembled in the house.

This was the last chance for turning back; did the Rebel Flame, Last Tempest, Tantari Mercenary Extraordinaire and the two powerful children hanging about have what it would take to face what were obviously Moblins? And in the dark? No problem! The sound of Blank giving chase seemed to beckon them to follow... although the Hylian would prefer if they didn't. But what sort of adventurer would leave a good, old-fashioned Moblin hunt to just Blank?

OOC: RG, delete this if you see it please.

Sovelis looked at the hole and ladder, then pulled out his trusty lantern, lighting the dark hole up with its bright glow. ( I actually have it in my inventory, after the quest, I went back and got it agian for stuff like this. I will never go down a dark and creepy hole without some light.) "So...who wants to go down the creepy tunnel first?" he asked. "No takers? Well, I guess I'll go first..." he said as he stuck his staff under the straps of his satchel, grabbed the handle of the lantern in his mechanical hand, and desended into the darkness that he figured Blank was down in, kicking some moblin backsides, and frontsides as well.

OOC: Okay, uyou guys aren't apparently getting it. The Kasei I am using now is different. I have been very cal,m with you people and told you numerous times that i scratched the old story. I would like you to respect that.

Explosions of chaos were never done anywhay till the end.

IC: The second he was in, Kasei noticed Sovelis light a lantern, then rush down the tunnel. With no further light, Kasei made use of his fire scroll, and lit his own lantern, following the footsteps of Sovelis into the unknown darkness.

(((OOC: National Treasure quote Sovelis? You can't hide from me Saber..... his response will be priceless... priceless.... Oh and Blank, "Powerful Child" doesn't work for Pyre. He would prefer to be called "the beast." )))

~Pyre watched as Sovelis took the lead, slipping down the hole and descending into the darkness.... after taking some words out of his own mouth just before he was going to speak. He stared forward a moment, still disgruntled before walking foward slowly and beginning the climb into the darkness. A reckless rush like he was going to make just a moment before, would no longer be dignified after Sovelis had beat him to it.

As he climbed though, his mind started to drift away from such trivial matters, and to more pressing ones. What were the moblins doing here for example, and why weren't the guards taking action. This is was not some litte raid on a countryside town that could be left for adventurers to sort out. This was the job of the military. Of course that wouldn't keep adventurers from interfering, but some of the castle guard should be helping to sort this out. For now though, it was time to go complaining to the guards. It was time to kill some moblins!~

--

~Meanwhile, Chuckles was about to snap and kill something. He was in an even worse temper than before. The sqeeze down the narrow hold had not been enjoyable. He still had cuts and bruises from all the nasty protrusions that were natural to such a space but a regular sized moblin could avoid. He had been cursing to himself about the wisdom of taking this stupid route when his fellow moblins had began anew their abuse, and he could almost smell the delicious scent of their blood dripping through his hands, and the wonderful sound of entrails falling to floor after eviceration. If only someone like a silly travelling nomad would stumble into their midst for him to squash...~

(((OOC: And Kasei. It won't help us respect you and your desicions if your IC post is only three lines long... even Saber's joke post is longer....)))

The assembled group of adventurers-turned-spelunkers managed to reach the bottom of the drop with relative ease. Such a rickety ladder would have been expected to snap or break under the weight of the men, but this climb was free of such cliché, fortunately enough for them. After all, there had been several Moblins hanging from it only moments ago; even five adventurers were normally relatively lightweight compared to a platoon of boar-men.

At the bottom of the long climb the sounds of echoing footsteps became clear as the trilling of a songbird in the summer. Blank's jog became one with the thundering march of the Moblins who were quickly gaining distance. Even after taking a few steps, one could feel the difference in the makeup of the ground here. It was no longer an earthen road, but one of cloth. There was no light at this point of the tunnel save for the firelight coming from the lantern, but what Hyrule's esteemed adventurers were treading on was obvious: the robes of the monks.

The Moblin party had dropped the charade just as they had reached the bottom of the hole. The dirtied, brown cloaks reeked of their odor; musty, unclean and stale, the smell of blood and barbarians.

Far ahead, the Moblins trudged on at an alarming rate, oblivious of the two separate parties following in their stead. The leader halted them after a long trek, and lit the torch in his right hand, finally shedding some light in the tunnel. The other Moblins said nothing as they looked at the newly revealed spectacle - a large open room filled with all manner of explosives. Powder kegs, Bombchus, and just plain old Bombs (if that suits your fancy). The head Moblin urged the other terrible creatures into the room.

Blank looked at the Moblins with disgust from where he stood, watching them gather up as many explosives as they could muster in one go. Here he had found the storeroom of the Moblins explosives. And with the plan formulating in his head, there would not be another Explosive Incident in a long, long time.

Without a word, the nomad strode casually into the mass of Mid-Dao Moblins and tapped one on the shoulder. “Excuse me?” he said in mock politeness. It turned on him, and gasped as the nomad's sword plunged through its gut and out its back. Its eyes clouded over and it growled loudly as the wooden blade slid back out, and Blank kicked it harshly in the face. Immediately the swarm of Moblins turned on the nomad, and began to advance on him. But Blank was already putting his newest idea into play.

Hopping up on top of a barrel of Bombs, the nomad grinned ruthlessly as a small flicker of flame grew at the tip of his finger. Blank was horribly clumsy and lacking proficiency with magic, but he was confident enough to pull this off. All he need was a small bit of fire. He launched the Fire spell like a projectile to the far side of the room, and it disappeared like a fallen flair behind some of the heaps of explosives. The Moblins turned on the nomad once more, assuming that his spell had gone wrong. But they were met by a frighteningly clever grin before he hopped off his podium and darted back down the tunnel.

As he ran he collided with Sovelis, and recognizing the Tempest he quickly jumped to his feet and urged the others to run for their lives. “Go! Get up the ladder!” he shouted wildly, practically pushing them along the tunnel as he ran.

As Sovelis climbed back up, he shouted t Blank. "Why? What did you do this time? Are those monks after us?" Sovelis asked as he reached the halfway point. He was close, but not close enough to the top of the ladder to use his jump spell to clear the last of it.

Saber had arrived just in time to see everybody slide down a rather unstable ladder. He listened to the rhythmic beating of feet against the ground and nodded his head from side to side in keeping with the beat. Kinda catchy...he thought, before shaking it off. He just saw Pyre's flaming hair drop out of sight before he considered the situation. I can pretty much assure myself that Blank is down there, probably overwhelmed by that horde, and he probably needs help to take care of them all. However, he also has a habit of dragging me into...unsavory situations.

He stepped back with one foot and stared at the ceiling and pondered the situation a bit more, knuckles rapping the saber hilt. Then, hearing panicked speech from below, he decided there was nothing for it. I won't let them all die...not alone anyways. He thought as he swung one leg onto a shaky rung. Fear gripping him again as he tested the unstable wooden transport, he chastised himself once again for having a good upbringing. He hurriedly shimmied down the ladder, leaving Worru alone as he tried to avoid contact with the rungs as much as possible, afraid of breaking the ladder and being stuck in the depression.

He heard the shouts getting louder as he neared the bottom, and one sentence finally fell on his oblong ears in a decipherable manner. "Go! Get up the ladder!" Get up the ladder? Didn't we just come down? What did he do this time? Saber pondered for a while, until he felt a rather hard shove on his hind quarters, and glanced downwards to see a blonde ponytail flying out over the depths of the tunnel. Up it is...He thought with a sigh as he frantically flew up just as fast as he had down, emerging from the hole within thirty seconds and hurling himself across the ground, watching Sovelis come up after him and wondering yet again what the hell was going on. He shifted his gaze to Worru and waved. "So then." He asked the child casually. "When's the last time you went clothes shopping?"

(((OOC: I'm gonna pull a Saber, and ignore Blank on this one.)))

~When Pyre hit the floor and began to run once again, he was actually starting to look forward to carving up some Moblin hides with his swords. However, at around that time, everything came to an abrupt stop... or at least Sovelis did. At the same time the Last Tempest crashed into Blank, Pyre slammed into from behind, trying to move out of the way at the same time, and as a result went tumbling to the floor just to the right of the other too. Then Blank went thundering past, shouting about 'getting out of here' or some other such nonsense.

The ranger stared in surprise as Blank and Sovelis began, once again, to retreat away from where the Moblins had obviously gone. He didn't know about the Tempest, but he was shocked that the nomad made such a cowardly escape. However, he was also a little frigthened. What was bad enough to send Blank fleeing from his prey? In a moment, he would see the answer, but still not completely comprehend the situation. In this case, one could assume the old maxim is very very wrong. What one doesn't know can hurt them.

Soon, the hylian came bursting into the room containing the explosives, the moblins and Chuckles. Moments before, the half goron had been lifting a powder keg into the air with his goron strength when Blank had rushed into the room, and then cast a fire spell. Chuckles wasn't known for his intellect, but all moblins knew that when burning red stuff touched the boom powder things took a turn for the worse.

But nothing happened when the spell seemed to hit his target, and he assumed that the foolish nomad, who he was certain had fought the Mid Dao before, had blotched his spellwork, and failed at igniting the volatile weapons. Chuckles was just looking forward to chucking the powder keg he held at Blank's head when the nomad went fleeing from the room, shouting something. That was when Pyre entered the room. Unfortunately for the ranger, most of the moblins were still looking towards the door, wondering what in the hell the silly nomad was doing down here. When he suddenly found himself facing so many hostile glares, and many different explosive devices, he felt a tingle of fear shoot through him. Alone and against overwhelming numbers and firepower was not the way he imagined himself fighting. It would be a glorious way to die of course, but he didn't want to cut his lifespan so short. It would be a hideously pathetic thing to run away like Blank and Sovelis had done, so now he was left with a delicate desicion. Fight or Flight?

Pyralin chose fight. Others were coming behind him anyways, he would have back up soon... or so he thought. He whipped out his blades, and gripped the hilts a little tighter than was usual. Then he settled into a croutch and assumed a defensive stance. Something told him this wasn't going to be fun... He had no idea how right he was.~

(((OOC: Its my funeral )))