HEROIC REALMS

Orogom staggers down from the Manor House wearily, looking like he hasn't slept well in weeks. Strapped to his back is a keg of ale and in his arms is another one. As he stumbles wearily down the muddy paths, trying to avoid slipping, he suddenly stops and shakes his foot, cursing loudly.

Finishing his way to the tavern, he puts the kegs down by the bar, then lifts up his foot and examines the sole of his boot. His eyes open wide at the size of the hole in the bottom, and he leans out the tavern door and calls out, "Hey! Anybody seen a thief with a similar foot size to me? I need some new boots!"

((OOG: Just a reminder, there's a note on the tavern door in Artha's handwriting, since nobody has responded to the other thread. ^^; ))

Getting no response, Orogom curses and turns to put the kegs away when he notices the paper attached to the door. Taking it down, he heads back to and places it on the bar. Unlocking the back room, he puts both barrels of ale away, locks the room back up and sinks into the chair behind the bar. Lifting his foot up, he pulls off his boot and wet sock, leaves the boot on the floor and wrings the sock out before putting it on the back of the chair. If anything nasty tried to come in, a thrown boot and wet sock to the face would provide some amusement for him.

Slowly, he picks up the note and reads it hesitantly, recalling how the last note he read was Eliora's goodbye note.

((OOG: sorry, needed an excuse to get down to it :-p))

Hearing Orogom yell to her, her brows arched under her mask at his rather peculiar question. Making her way closer to the tavern she stops by the door to look inside. "Im afraid I don't make a habit of measuring the feet of others... perhaps one of the townfolk who dables in armouring can help?"

Letting her eyes adjust to the light inside she steps in, albeit cautiously, given the warning of potentially exposed and possibly ripe feet. "I... was uh, looking for you Orogom... Something I wanted to ask you about..."

Orogom smiles at the Druid and beckons her closer, not willing to walk around barefoot unless he has to. "Don't worry, I bathed last night," he jests, noting her look of distaste, then he sees her eyes and all jocularity leaves his voice as he leans forward and says softly, "What's going on?"

She leans closer, her tone a soft whisper as she speaks to Orogom. "I was speaking with Taldrin, who asked me to inquire from certain individuals any information pertaining to our new acting lord." She sits down remaining discreet, "A name... really anything at this point. I know you are aware of the "uncertain" mood that is spreading... so anything you can offer would be appreciated as we work together piecing this puzzle."

Orogom stifles a laugh and ends up with a paroxysm of coughing. Once he is done, he whispers softly ((OOG: PM to follow))

The druid listens quietly to what Orogom has to say before leaning over and engaging his ear in a long whispered dialogue.

((oog pm sent))

After several moments of a whispered conversation, the Druid stands and nods at Orogom, then without any hesitation heads outside the Tavern and disappears off into the woods.

Orogom, for his part, looks down at his boot and, cursing, pulls it back on without the sock, then storms out of the tavern and heads out towards Dark Entry Road...there were usually some thieves hanging out around there.

As he approaches the road warily, on guard for an ambush...((OOG: Keith? Anyone?))

Cursing that there is nobody on Dark Entry Road, Orogom moves back down the path towards the Dragon's Spine, dagger concealed in one hand, deliberately jingling the few coins in his pocket to attract any bandits from the woods. He feels the mud squishing into his boot and he grumbles about how a good pair of boots can't seem to last more than twenty to twenty five years. When he hears a rustling in the leaves on the ground, he tenses and waits, preparing to spin around and fling his dagger into a neck...

Orogom looks down at the squirrel that pops out from the leaves and brush. The squirrel picks up an acorn and sits on its haunches, nibbling away at the outer shell. It only takes a flick of his wrist and the throwing dagger neatly takes the squirrel's head off, and the Triclopse picks the body up by the tail and grins while thinking, "Hmm...nice and fat...this will make a good lunch."

Cleaning the blood off his dagger with the nearby leaves, he resheathes it and carries the squirrel up to the Ranger Station where he starts a fire in the pit and looks around for a good branch to use as a spit, grumbling under his breath about a lack of even travel cooking utensils around the Stronghold. Once he has everything set and begins cooking, the sweet smell of the meat travels with the wind: an undeniably mouth-watering smell, and Orogom is well aware of the types of things that might be attracted by it...

Orogom finished his lunch of squirrel-on-a-stick and stands up. The fire had been small and was smoldering ashes at this point, so he kicked dirt on it until he could no longer see any smoke. His mumbling curses starting up again, Orogom heads down to the Undead Ent by way of the cave, eyes scanning for movement or flashes that might indicate jewels on the ground. With every step he takes, the Triclopse feels the hole in the sole of his shoe rub roughly on the bottom of his foot and let in little bits of water and dirt.