Chapitre 1: Chapter 1
The group of moblins sneaked through the forest, making sure to make as little noise as possible. They were a long way from the lair, but they hadn't found any food in the upper reaches of Death Mountain, which forced them down, and away.
But Gorons guarded these woods, so the moblins were careful to carry their spears with both hands, without letting the butts hit the ground. Prowling, the only noise they allowed themselves was a quiet grunting through their pig-like noses.
They made good head-way, moving silently through the trees, despite their bulky frames, and the dark-blue moblin leading the group suddenly raised its spear above its head to signal the group to stop.
In the distance, looking through the space between the trunks, he'd spotted a deer, and pointed at it for the others to see. They readied themselves to approach in complete silence, when…
"MOBLINS."
The moblins should have fled, but they were so hungry that frustration made the leader release a war-cry, and charge in the direction the shout came from. All but a single red moblin followed him. This more sensible one turned around and left.
It didn't take long for the attackers to spot the goron that had announced their presence. It was still shouting, alerting someone, but it looked like it was alone. The blue moblin sneered. Gorons were hard to kill, but if they were alone…
A rolling boulder took out the last moblin in the charging party. Then, another boulder took out the one in front. Three more moblins were run over by as many boulders, and only the blue one in front was left.
The goron in front smiled cockily, chuckled, and simply crossed its arms.
Goaded, the moblin threw its spear, but it did nothing to the goron, bouncing off its stony hide. Enraged, the moblin screamed and threw itself at the goron, who simply slapped the monster aside.
"They never learn," said the goron, and laughed.
He was soon joined by his companions, who bumped their forearms, clapped their backs, and walked away to continue their patrol.
#
The sun was half-way down when the fleeing moblin made it back to the top of Death Mountain, and approached the camp of its tribe. He dismissed the questioning grunts and squeals of demand from the others by simply saying, "gorons", and approached its mate.
She'd given birth while he was away. The female moblin squealed excitedly as she saw her mate approach, and held the new-born forward for him to see it.
It was light blue.
Holding it up in the air, the proud father gave off a squeal of joy, which attracted the other moblins of the tribe. When they saw the babe's color, they joined the celebration. The child would grow to be the strongest of them all.
Despite being monsters, despite being his servants, no moblin there had any way of knowing that their master, their king, had just been reborn.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone