Glancing over to where to two unconscious patrons now lay, Torbin made a mental note to himself to put a little more stock in the names of the taverns he visited. Though I doubt the Twisted Ferret actually has a rodent tied in a knot just lying around. Making his way through the now calmed occupants, Torbin placed himself just down the wall from Fellaxe, with another table separating them. Torbin knew that as long as they didn’t start whispering like young girls, then he’d have a good chance of overhearing something. Even with all the ambient noise of the other tavern goers. Torbin laid his pack next to a chair, and used its extra bit of height to make hoisting himself into the large chair less awkward. He then stood up in the chair, and holing his money pouch in one hand, motioned with the other towards someone that appeared to be serving drinks. Once he had their attention, he sat back down in his chair and waited for his turn.

Taking the opportunity to take in the other patrons, all the while trying to catch as much of Fellaxe’s conversation as possible, Torbin noticed that sitting at the bar there was what appeared to be a drow. Although closer inspection showed his hair wasn’t quite white, and his face and ears weren’t as angular as an elf’s should be. Half-breed, I guess, but something’s still off. Meh, it’s not like I know exactly how a drow half-breed would look anyway. But seeing two drow in one day, they must be in season, he mused to himself. Tipping his server and paying for his drink, a young human girl as it turned out to be, Torbin continued to eye everyone about the tavern, while trying to pay attention to the conversation going on behind him. Trying to remain inconspicuous, he pulled a book from a pocket on the side of his pack. Small even in his gnome-sized hands, its cover appeared to be of heavy black leather, and the pages inside very fine and delicate. Flipping his book open to a random section, he pretended to read as he sipped his ale, and continued his eavesdropping.

---

"Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


- An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.

Algernon's attention for the past moments sustained merely by his own thoughts, it hadn't occurred to him to actually attempt to inspect the scene, and as such had relatively ignored the others. Not that he didn't care, just that he hadn't placed emphasis on what was going on around him, at least, until he realized that there was new information before him, and with a quick movement he soon was beside the desk.

"Esk, look around the desk for information which may hint at the whereabouts of the mission Paladin, specifically look for any drawers or false bottoms or any secret compartments of any kind."

In the meanwhile, he placed his own focus on the mirror which had been uncovered mere moments before, listening to the voice which it emitted and preparing his well scuplted mind to remember the words verbatum.

Esk, as silly as ever, hopped off of the shoulder of Algernon, and carefully walked around the many scattered items which lay before him, looking for any papers, going through a few of them, looking for information which may pertain to the case at hand, Algernon finally having decided to use him as an advantage.

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

Rutgar stared at his own reflection, his brow furrowed in thought as he inspected the mirror without replying to the voice.

Keris watched the new arrivals sit down, noting how the gnome chose a seat near to them. Seeing the gnome pull out a book, Keris looked at his eyes, and how they didn't follow the words on the page. Keris edged his bar stool cloder to the group and tried to listen in as well.

---

A Good Deed is its own reward.
That, and getting to go to heaven.

Warning:This post was made while high on medication.

 

RutgarAlgernon,and Shaala 

 As you all watch the mirror,Rutgar's reflection slowly morphs into the broad,friendly features of a young human with black hair.Behind him you can glimpse a misty,temperate forest.His brown eyes narrow in suspicion after realizing you are not who he thought you were.

 "Who are you?", he growls,"And where is Cassia?"

 

Torbin and Keris  

 Fellaxe and his men settle down in their seats,the half-orc already seated gives a snarl of impatience.

 "About time.I trust you weren't followed?,"he says in a low,suprisingly intellegent-sounding voice.  

 Fellaxe answers with a sharp nod.

 "Good...what news of the Lanthanderites?"

 "Still running around like chickens with their heads cut off,"chuckles Fellaxe,"They don't know what to do now that their precious Mornlord is dead."

The half-orc nods,seemingly not suprised by this bit of information, before asking another question.

 "What for your fellow bounty hunters?"

 "Inexperienced and unknown,save for one,a hobgoblin named Rutgar Bloodfang."

 The half-orc grins savagely,showing yellowed teeth.

 "Well then,this makes your job so much easier dosen't it?"

 Fellaxe matches the grin with his own smirk.

 "It does,dosen't it?"

  

 

 

---

The penguins...They steal my sanity

Rutgar looks to Rhys then back at the mirror before speaking, “We where wondering the same thing…” He says to the man without even looking at him, instead his eyes studied the forest behind him, what kind of trees they where, how the moss grew, the color of the soil and every other detail he could pick out as he sought to determine the location of this person. (yay knowledge geography and nature!)

Continuing to sip at his drink, and glance through his little book, Torbin made sure to keep a sharp eye on the rest of the tavern. These guys seem to be glad, or at the least ambivalent, over the death of this Mornlord. And something about that oafish looking hobgoblin? What am I getting into here?

Torbin was stirred from his thoughts, and distracted from his listening, by movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing nonchalantly in the general direction he had detected the movement, he could find noone moving about, or even towards him. Just a couple of sailors at one table, still being very discreet due to the previous incident, and the drow half-breed that sat at the bar. Torbin chided himself for letting his mind wander with too much thought and refocused on listening to the conversation going on behind him. But this time kept his showing eye wandering, glancing up from his book frequently, to assess the tavern constantly.

---

"Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


- An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.

Algernon's thoughts were unclear as he stared at the surface of the mirror, still waiting for Esk to finish his inspection of whatever papers may be on the desk, and this gave Algernon more focus toward the true action of the moment, the speaking object before him.  Still, Esk's interest in the paper soon dulled, and within a few moments he hopped back onto Algernon's shoulder, evidently finding nothing of interest.

"Talking objects.  Been awhile since I've seen that.  I haven't looked in a mirror lately."

Algernon merely looked at him as one would look at a puppy who had unknowingly pooped on the floor, and then broke it with a rare smile.  It was sure to be a long while since they would be allowed to enjoy themselves, and at least Esk would make the most of the circumstance.  Then, Algernon placed all focus back on the object.

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

((ROFLMEAO!!!!!

Blood, Yashwi's your character in the "We are not Alone" roleplay... not this one!!! Your character is Algernon the Maenad Psion.))

Shaala continued to peer curiously at the mirror. Apparently, the man on the other end could see them too. She had no idea how such a device would work through machines- it must be magic. Fascinating.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

I'm baaccckkk!

 

Algernon,Rutgar,and Shaala

 

 The dark-haired man in the mirror looks at the group with an incredulous  and somewhat puzzled expression.Then he notices Rhys,who has just come to stand beside Rutgar to peer at the mirror.

 "You're one of Cassia's order!",he says in suprise,apparently recognizing the armour emblazened with symbols unique to the Lathanderian order,"I beg pardon for my harsh words,but these folk do not look like paladins."

 "That's because they are not,"replies the holy warrior,"Who are you?"

 "I am Kale,of Clan Durandir",says the man,"And who are you,master paladin,and what of your companions?"

 Suddenly Kale's eyes widen as Rutgar's words sink in.

 "Wait a minute,what do you mean you don't know where Cassia is?! I though your order knew how to to keep track of its members!"

 

 Torbin and Keris 

 

 As the men and half-orc are about to continue speaking,another fight breaks out. Apparently one of the men sent flying into the wall by the barkeep earlier has regained consciousness and,seeming to not have learned his lesson,confronts the old man.Said elderly wizard does not take too kindly to being yelled at by a drunken sot.

 All eyes are on the subsequent beat-down as the man is thrown all over the room.As the flying body narowly avoids hitting Torbin,Fellaxe's eyes,which had been watching the spectacle in amusement,fall on the gnome.

 For a moment he seems not to recognize Torbin,but then his eyes narrow in suspicion.With a gesture towards his men and the half-orc,Fellaxe fingers his greataxe as he rises from his seat,fellows in tow.They make their way unerringly towards Torbin's table.

 

---

The penguins...They steal my sanity

"She went missing recently." Shaala said cautiously, scanning the image in the mirror to see if she could recognize anything. "We intend to find her. Can you help us?"

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

   Torbin tensed up as he leaned quickly to his left, just enough to allow the loud-mouthed drunk to soar by without clipping anything important. The smell of cheap ale was unmistakably saturating the surrounding air as the man came to an unconscious rest against the wall behind him. Loosing a soft sigh, Torbin was glad that he hadn't had to dive for cover and risk losing his spot next to Fellaxe's table. As Torbin went back to feign reading his book again, he caught a glimpse of the drow half-breed along the bar looking cautiously in his direction. It intrigued Torbin, not in that it was a stare of sizing up an opponent, at least not quite. It was more along the lines of trying to decide the better between a couple of race horses that were about to run the quarter mile. 

   And it was then that Torbin heard the charis at the table behind him slide back suddenly and quietly, followed by numerous footsteps and the shifting of armor and sword belts. Knowing all too well now that the tavern keeper had zero tolerance for rough housing within his establishment, and suddenly began to wish he had ducked away during the ruckus, and get out while he was still ahead. It was obvious to Torbin now that he was probably going to be unable to follow Fellaxe and his men anymore, and set his mind to figuring out to get out of this newest mess of his. To help his mind along, he intentionally flipped to a particular passage of his book that he liked to read before setting off to do his giant slayings, one stanza in particular.

   "Approaching combat should be done with the care of petting a scorpion. Though at the best of times it will seem as if you are in control, a stinger could easily strike true if you are not prepared to leap away when necessary. In these times, one should not only leap away, but run away, for once the stinger has struck out once, there is no calming it. But escape is not always possible or even forthcoming. It is in these times, when cornered or outnumbered, that all gnomes should remember just three things. Swing low. Strike hard. Stay quick."

   Slowly and methodically, Torbin repeated this mantra in his head. Swing low, strike hard, stay quick. He had no need to calm nerves, or build himself up to take on this challenge, but he found that it helped to focus his mind on the task at hand. As the sound of footfalls ceased directly behind him, and the sound of chairs being scooted ever so slowly away from his table by the other patrons, Torbin tucked his small book into a vest pocket. Taking a slow and deliberate breath, and continuing his mantra in short form, Torbin waited as non-chalantly as possible for the stinger to drop.

Low, hard, quick.

Low, hard, quick.

Low, hard quick.

---

"Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


- An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.

Algernon,Rutgar and Shaala

 Kale's face goes ashen at Shaala's words and he looks to be supporting himself with a nearby tree trunk.The man whom seems to be in what you recognize as the Etherian Forest is muttering half to himself and half to you.

 "Damn....not her too...I should have known...I've been tryng to contact her for the last two days....First Jordyll,now her."

 Kerris and Torbin

 The men and half-orc slowly spread out around Torbin's table,using their bodies to hide the impending events from the rowdy and oblivious bystanders.They close in,their movements akin to hounds surrounding the fox.

 Torbin can hear movement as one of Fellaxe's men comes up from behind,obviously intent on catching hold of the gnome.

 

---

The penguins...They steal my sanity

"What's happened to her?" Shaala asks curiously, taking the mirror from Rutgar.

"Anything you know would be a help."

While listening to any response Kale gives, She turns the mirror over in her hands, trying to see anything interesting about the rest of it, and possibly guess it's origins.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

The hulking hobgoblin glares at Shaala with a cold hatred when she takes the mirror from his hand and crosses his arms, still listening to what is being said on the mirror despite the fact that he can’t study it any longer.