Don’t know how I ended up rifling through hobbits drawers but, Good Grimnir I’d rather the Fearless Grimni stave my godforsaken skull in right this minute, if this is to be the way of my adventures from here on in…
And what brought us to this questionable behavior?
Och!! It’s Stromdorf I tell ye. A more miserable place you never cast your eyes on. And the rain, Good Grimnir it’d make the happiest and most bearded man alive turn to misery and glumness and a cutthroat razor. And it might not stop at just the whiskers ah tell thee.
And so it is we’ve turned t’ burgling (or investigating as Brigitta the Warden likes to call it). I’m pretty sure if we get caught while ‘investigating’ in this manner we’ll be thrown in the jail. But ah suppose when the alternative t’ burglary is traipsing around in the torrential rain while knee deep in festering mud then burgling suddenly seemed like it might be a barrel load of bearded bonnie lassies of fun by comparison.
And so it was that we decided ‘pon a spot ah burglary in the old Cobblepots place. I don’t recall who drew the short straw and found the open window to let us in but watching them I was reminded of not so much those famous Catburglars of Brittany. But more like those less successful elephant burglars that never ever took on. Anyway it might not have been pretty but at least they made it inside. But once the rest were let in things began to look a bit chaotic I don’t mind telling you. As the only one with Night Vision all I can say is i’ve not seen a more inept display of fumbling around in the dark. Since Helga Foamchest let me cop my first feel for a brass penny and a flagon of ale under the Dwarf Elm tree at the back of the Rusty Nail inn. Ahhh them were the days.
As it turned out there was nae need tee bother. The place was as empty as the space between an Elves ears. No sign of naebody. Not CobblePot, Not Florian, Naebody. And so it was the burgling proper commenced. But not for us hordes of treasure, jewels and swag. Oh no! A search of the obvious places revealed nothing of note save a merchants clothing.
And so it came to the ransacking of the drawers. Now ordinarily you’d not have to ask me twice to rifle through a ladies drawers but this was not those type of drawers and this poisoned wee stumpy of a hobbit was certainly not anything close to being a lady. Thank god old Stumpy Hammerfist and Thorgred Iron cannae see me now. Troll slayer?? Knicker Ransacker more like.
Thankfully…I think it proved a fruitful search. In a corner of the drawer and supposedly hidden out of sight from the eyes of depraved prying Trollslayers was a ring. A merchants guild ring no less. And I’d stake my beard and gold tankard full of Bugman’s best bitter that this is Florian’s ring. The question now is… where is Florian and how many more pairs of underwear are we going to have to rifle through before we find him?