The cowardly Moblin stands still as a rock as he reaches the rocky wall at the lower corner of the woods. Tired, he sits to play on his instrument, an ancient superstition among his tribe that grants the player incredible skills in their moment of need. The flute tastes like fetid leever guts.

Blasted Goron guard! Why couldn't he get that rock out of my WAY!

Blank Mid-Dao shrinks down and hides as the pattering footsteps of angry warriors gets louder by the second.

Denning turns to Alpha and Blank.
"Did you hear that! It sounded like that moblin! Lets head on."
Denning runs tword the moblin.

Mid-Dao curses loudly as the warriors come hurtling through the woods and into the clearing. He turns in all directions but sees only dead ends. Finally giving up hope for escape, he strides casually to Alpha, Denning and Blank.

Now, we're all experienced killers here... there's no need to resort to violence, is there? Come on! I didn't do anything wrong!

Thinking he's caught his enemies off guard, the massive Moblin strikes out powerfully at Denning with his javelin.

"Sheild!"
Denning casts a sheild between him and the javelin.
"No , eh? Well two can play at that game!"
Denning dashes into the trees, using shadowmeld to hide, he trys to get behind Mid-Dao, and strike him with his staff.

Mid-Dao has seen this technique many times in raids on villages. All he could do was swing madly in circles with his spear and club. It seems effective at first, but he quickly forgets that Alpha and Blank are standing on the sidelines.

Blank dashes in and stabs at Mid-Dao's cyclone of fury, and the clash halts the moblin and disarms him. Blank then kicks Mid-Dao in the gut, and strieks with a punch to face, sending him sprawling back, easy prey for Denning or Alpha.

Denning pops up behind the Moblin and wacks him in the back, he then jumps backword and stands in a defensive position.

The Moblin falls forward with a grunt, right into Blank's sword. The blade pierces his snout, causing him to bleed and cry out in terrible pain. Blank nocks an arrow to his bow and aims at the Moblin's heart, commanding him to stay still.

It's your go, Alpha. Finish him, before more lives are taken needlessly.

Waddles races in, arriving behind Denning only to find the creature on the ground before him.
"What's this commotion over such a defenseless creature? You can easily see it had no chance. What explanation can you present me to possibly justify such actions?"
Waddles is flustered, but not entirely angry, for he knows that Denning would not do such harm without good reason, or so he hopes...

"Defenseless? He ed a building! Kill him!"

OOC: Nice one, guys. I didn't even know this topic existed until a few minutes ago...

Oh well; I found now! Time to finish what I started.

IC:
'To kill or not to kill...heh, hardly a question. He's killed, and shows no desire to stop killing. To kill it is!' Alpha's hands fly outward, and he snaps his fingers. "Fire Spell!" Flames erupt from his fingertips, flying through the air and engulfing the Moblin.

The Moblin screeches in pain as the flames whip through his body. Through the crackling noises let off by the burning lice that crawl desperately to escape their death, Mid-Dao's last words can be heard clearly as he roars in agony. His deep, throaty cries echo throughout the woods.

Bastards! You've ruined us! We were led by fate to rule over this land with an iron fist, but you... intervened! You've not seen the last of us, I have hundreds of thousands of lackies ready to take you out with the blow of a whistle! Their vengeance will be full.

In a last attempt to destroy his enemies, Blank Mid-Dao opens the satchel at his side and removes a strange, black seed. Reaching for his flute once again, he places the small nutrient into the bottom of his choice instrument.

This will create a sound powered by dark magic, and it will sound my beacon across Hyrule, no, the world. It was a sad day when you idiots stepped in my way.

He places the flute at his mouth and prepares a mighty note. But, as the air comes rushing through his burnt lungs, it falls short in the heat of his body's current temperature.

What the... No! It can't be! I--- uurk....

An arrow protrudes from his throat, silencing him yet again. The flute slides from his limp fingers and hits the ground with a light *thump* noise, followed by a much louder sound - Mid-Dao's carcass landing face first in the mud. From where the rest of the adventurers stand, Blank Fireside holds his bow in hand, with an odd grin on his face.

Had to shut him up one way or another.

The burning continues, the body is reduced to ashes, which are lost in the grimy mud surrounding the clearing. All that remains is the flute, the flute that had sparked Alpha's rage at sight and sound. The disgusting piece of woodworking is surrounded by small black beads. Blank walks over and picks one up.

He said that he could use this to call his allies. From that flute. Maybe... if we use them from an instrument of our own, we could contact each other... Call it crazy, but I'm keeping a few.

From overtop of the trees, plumes of smoke can be seen rising from Rauru Town, where the bombs had been set off to cause his event. Blank, having come in later, was still in the dark about certain things.

Just another terrorist? Who was it this time?

Denning goes near the ashes.

"Well, this man was powerful, his remains need to be secured, unlike Deoxolips', we need some sort of lockbox to keep his remains in."

Alpha nods, seemingly unconcerned with whatever happens next. "Sure Denning, take those ashes if you want."

Then he eyes the flute, and an anger swells up inside of him again. "Blank, I suggest we destroy that cursed thing. Flutes like that...argh!" He turns and walks to the edge of the area before he starts taking his flute hatred out on Blank.

Blank nods in approval.

Whatever your reasons for hating such an instrument, I will not ask. If you want it be destroyed, then we will destroy it. Just looking at it makes me sick... imagine how many grubs and insects lurk inside it.

From the glowing embers surrounding the remains of the treacherous Moblin, Blank starts a small fire. Then, grabbing the flute in his hands, he prepares to end the existance of such a vile symbol. Suddenly, he yells out in agony, dropping the flute in the flames as quickly as possible. A burst of sparks erupts forth from the fire, and small crackling noises are heard as thousands of tics, flees, lice and an assortment of other filthy grubs, some unidentified, are met with an unimaginable fiery death.

The flute is consumed instantly, and the screeching notes echo throughout the clearing as the wind and fire pass through the mangled woodwind. And then the fire dies. All that remains of the flute is ash, which is blown away bythe breeze of a coming storm.

It's done, Alpha. The flute's gone.

Blank walks over to the nearest tree and slumps down, tired. He examines his hand and is shocked and appauled to see a fresh scar, in the shape of a club and a sword crossing over each other. It seems... oddly familiar. Suddenly, his face whitens and his body goes limp, in silent realization. Looking to Denning, he stutters a few words.

If y-you can f-find a lockbox, just g-go right ahead and l-lock them up...

"Well, I wont touch those accursed things. Ha, I know!"

Denning makes a sheild around the ashes and hovers them close to him, he takes out a small box and throws the ashes in.

"Well, there secured, i suppose I should look after them, unless someone else would like to..."