"Is Stadrak remodeling?" asks Flower. "That old place could use a new coat of paint. Smells like last year's wine."
Both bard and priestess, duck, cartwheel, somersault, and do a back-flip to dodge the flying dresser.
"Nice move, Mistress Ophyllia. By the way, the Temple has given me permission to offer you a new, completely outfitted, painted in the colour-of-your-choice, two-holer to replaced the one you have now. Hmmm, and we can take care of that nasty business of owing money to "M". At least for the time being. You'll have to take care of the copper yourself though. Temple doesn't play with small change."
Flower pats Ophyllia on the arm then shakes off the dust from her robes.
"As I see it, the first thing we need to do..."
RAP, RAP, TAP. RAP, RAP, RAP, TAP.
A crowd has gathered around the two story stone building of Baker's Miller. Flower approaches the group, motioning Ophyllia to follow. The crowd parts for the priestess and friend. Standing beside the open front door is a pair of gnorcs. Half gnoll, half orc. The hairy, fleshy, fly laden beasts are clad in Sure-To-Stop-Rubber-Bullets leather armor, rusty swords, and nothing else. The folks of the town are trying very hard not to look down, but can't bring themselves to look at their ugly faces either. So they look at the only other thing handy - a Mod Boyz. He has just pounded a notice to the wooden door frame and is slouching besides the gnorc guards. His shirt is untucked and open and his hair hangs over both eyes. The guards suddenly push the people back and saunter down High Street; Mod Boyz follows in their fly-clouded wake.
Towns People: "I've never heard...raggum fraggum...who do they think...grumble obscenities...this is going way...curse...wait till I get my...spit"
"Well, drink, drank, drunk! Thirty hours! Never in my life have I worked over twenty. And I'm not about to start now."
Flower flips her fleecy frock in a fierce fashion.
"Let's get going." She stomps off determinedly.
As Flower and Ophyllia round the corner of High Street and Drink Drive, a few dozen gnorcs stop them in their path. The streets seem suddenly empty. One of the gnorcs steps forward and points to Flower.
"U da Hi Priestesses of Her Lushness?"
Flower bristles at the insult and leaps right in the brute's face.
"Why you mangy, hairy end of a dog, toad eating, maggot sucking..."
The gnorc scratches his head and looks questioningly at the others.
"Yeah? So whut's u point?"
Flower is flabbergasted.
"U da 1. Get 'er."
With that, a dozen hands reach for the High Priestess, lifting her by her robes and off her feet. Spears are leveled at Ophyllia giving her the distinct impression that they will skewer her petite body should she try to follow. The gnorcs jog down the street, playing Toss-the Elf-Maiden, a game invented eons ago by the Giants of Musical Mountain.
After the dust settles, an old half-elven woman pokes her head out a window and sniffs the air - just to be sure it's clear - and looks at Ophyllia.
"Bad day for priests. Third one they've taken." She sniffs again and disappears inside.
Meanwhile...back at the Inn...
Stadrak the innkeeper huddles under the staircase, staring at a contract and muttering over and over,
"It isn't enough, it isn't enough, it isn't enough," while overhead the very beams of the inn seem to shake from the rafters.
Hours later... Rasor realizes that there is nothing else on this floor to smash. It's grown dark (past Elevenmeal) and the place is totally quiet. Downstairs there is no one to be found. The hearth's embers are burning low and the door has been barred for the night. A note lies on the bar.
Just as Rasor begins to think -
"hey - it's quiet here - why did Stadrak go away?"
Scuffing sounds come from the direction of the kitchen. Two large silhouettes can be seen through the kitchen in the window by the back door.