The lone stranger turned towards the herdsman, still quaffing his grog. A bloodshot eye stared out from under his dark mask. A nervous twitch pulled at the muscle of his leathery cheek. 'Ha!' laughed the herdsman as he waddled up to the bar, 'I do not believe the tall tales told of the ShadowLanders'. I believe them to be lies! I think they have less than half the warrior's blood that flows through my little toe!' The Nobbit snorted at his own remark, but looked disappointed when the others did not laugh with him. He turned back and stared at the stranger straight in the knee. 'For those who do not believe this, I will prove it by shedding some yellow DarkLander blood!'
Quickly, he drew his great dagger-like sword. Before the Nobbit could strike, the stranger grabbed the herdsman by the tattoo, and easily lifted him into the air. As the Nobbit began to open his mouth to cry out, the DarkLander shoved his massive fist down the herdsman's gullet. The stranger took a quick pull, and turned the Nobbit in-side-out. He dropped the bloody mess on the bar. Upon seeing this, some one gave the ancient herdsman warning cry; 'Let us move the flock out of here!' The tavern was instantly cleared.