Thief Hunt::Series IV

[Moriel]

@Dwim @Lady of Shadow @Mama's Murder Muffin @Taethowen @Zôrzimril

You may all hunt again you lucky ducks!

[Dwim]

Dwim waited it out in the barrel until he finally heard voices coming from behind the pub. The voices went from having a quiet conversation to full blown yelling and cursing, and that was when he knew the hornets had found some new victims (again). He left it another couple of minutes to be safe, then when he finally exited the barrel he saw two unconscious bodies near the back door. The hornets had done their work. Where the deadly swarm had gone to now was the new question. Dwim sincerely hoped they had not returned to the shadows where Írimë’s Wine Stash (or what was left of it after he jumped on it) was hidden. He braved it out anyway and went to have another look in the shadows.

To his great relief the hornets had not returned there, but to his utter dismay the wine stash was now gone. "Gah!" he cried. He had been so close to snapping it up, but now it seemed like Moriel had realised everyone was onto her and had taken off with it. It was like the whole hunt had started again. He had no clue where she would stash it now.

As he began to skulk away from the pub though, he heard some mutterings about someone running off real quick towards the Towers of No Return, making a clanging noise as they went. "Aha! That must be her!" Dwim realised, and quickly ran in the direction of the towers.

[Lady of Shadow]

Naelia was sure that the thief was still hiding somewhere within The Shadows but she had to keep a close lookout for those deadly hornets that seemed to be swarming through the area. "Perhaps the thief is hiding in an area where the hornets don't frequent." the minioness thought to herself as she tried to keep hidden while searching through the area so as not to attract the attention of the hornets if they were still in the vicinity.

Since Naelia knew that Irime's Wine Stash was the item that had gone missing, she kind of hoped that PoshZor had tired of his little game of cat and mouse and wouldn't set the hornets upon her again (or anyone else that seemed to be closing in on his position). "I wonder if there's a way to turn the hornets on him!" the minioness wondered, trying to figure out a way to turn the tables on him if he discovered that she hadn't given up the hunt just yet, and tried to trap her once again."Too bad I didn't bring Drinch with me, or else he could simply roast them alive as payback for what they did to him when he was too weak from dehydration." Naelia thought to herself, getting an idea. Keeping an eye out for the hornets, she snuck back to where she discovered the watering hole was located and broke off two branches from a nearby tree so that she could rub them together to make a fire so that she had something to fend off the hornets, if they were to return, hoping that it wouldn't take too long or the branches were too brittle, otherwise her little plan might backfire and she would once again be the hunted instead of the hunter.

[The Good Hunter]

Fleeg woke up some time later, covered in hornet stings and a massive hang over. If he were being honest, which he would never do, he wasn’t sure which was worse or how he’d survived both. Yet, here he was. Speaking of “here" though, where in the blazing infernal depths was he? Last he remembered he was outside the pub. This was not the outside of the pub. This was not the outside of anywhere. He was stripped to his waist and forced to wear nothing but a loin cloth. The vulgarity of it all! This stunk of a Reg plot. What was his ChAoS BrO playing at here? Whatever it was, it was complex. Reg must be learning. Could that troll puke of an orc actually learn things? Fleeg wouldn't have thought that possible but here was the evidence, plain as yoghurt. Who was teaching Reg though? Who could stomach his breath long enough to make him learn anything? There was only one person that made sense: PoshZôr. Not because she could stand him, but because she always had a dozen schemes playing out. Well done Reg! The oliphant dung licker was going to get some real schooling in the art of plots. Zorplots!

Fleeg, having done his mental congratulations, now needed to get the ever loving flumph out of here. Where was here? It was dark and musty. It smelled like the underside of a fell beast's cloaca. Fleeg wished he hadn’t raided Írimë’s Wine Stash so thoroughly. His head was raw and throbbing. His stomach was empty so when the smell made him puke, he had nothing to actually puke. This was the worst! By all the sainted Balrogs! He vowed to stuff his face full of… of something every time he drank so he’d have something ralph when he was hungover, preferably on Reg.

None of this was helping him figure out where his incipit friend had deposited him. Deposit. That reminded Fleeg He needed to go to the bank (Mordor had a bank right? If not someone should make one, they’re evil and full of deceit so it’s perfect for Mordor) and make a payment for his murder hornet tent. And get some clothes. Clothes first. You needed clothes at a bank. Mig had passed that nugget of wisdom to him once. Wait. Wait a second. Stop right there! Yes. Stop. Where would Reg have deposited Fleeg if he didn’t want him getting out? Why was Fleeg dressed in a dirty loin cloth? Why did people keep coming in to try and kill him? Oh unholy shire balls. He was in The Towers of No Return.

[Taethowen]

He really could use a change of clothes. Tar was sticky, and while he'd already stripped his shirt off, he wasn't about to drop trow in the middle of a Thief Hunt, because clearly that was what he'd become entangled with when he sent Elale off to speak to the tailor.

He'd made his way out of the towers, at least, and was still hankering for some of Írimë’s Wine Stash when he spotted Moriel darting into The Shadows up the street. If anyone knew where that wine might be, it would be her.

[Moriel]

DING DING DING!

The thief has been caught!! @Mama's Murder Muffin has successfully apprehended that haughty thief PoshZôr in her hiding place in The Towers of No Return, where she had made off with Írimë's Wine Stash. MMM, you are now a Minion Second Rank Hunter! You may choose to specialize in Thieves, Places, or Items, and will be able to guess two possible Thieves, Places, or Items, according to which specialization you choose, in each post.

As always in Mordor, thievery is rife, and it's time to set out after one again... a new culprit is abroad, the traps have been reset, Thief Hunt Round Five, commence!

[The Good Hunter]

Maybe Fleeg should try his hand at this Towers of No Return nonsense. He was here already. He might as make due. He was bored anyway, Reg was nowhere to be found and a ChAoS BrO-less day was a boring one. Yes, yes, yes. He was suing him for attempting to kill him in a dull fashion, a thing strictly forbidden by their mutual respect for one another and their titles as cHaOs BrOs. It was all a sticky mess really, but Fleeg missed his best pal and most hatred enemy. There was nothing to be done now though. Now, the only thing Fleeg could do was follow the path downward and hope Ketchup the Fell Beast wasn’t down here and in a mood.

Down and down and down Fleeg went. He encountered not a single soul. Strange that. Very strange. He would have thought he’d at least meet a few corpses and meat puzzles but no. Nothing. No one. Was it a holiday? Did Mordor even have holidays? Witch-King's Birthday or something like that? Hey, there was a market he could break into. Unless DEATH overtook everything and somehow Lailorn was able to get to the patent office first. Who was Lailorn anyway? Fleeg had never heard that name before.

Wait a second. Hold up. Stop. Shut up. Hold your horses. This wasn’t the Towers of No Return. This was Cirith Ungol! How else could one explain all the spider webs and creepy dripping noises and a general lack of tidiness? Tsk , tsk. Reg hadn't been so clever after all. What a shocker!

[Taethowen]

Alas, the thief had eluded him, but when he'd wandered over past the shadows, he'd found the Hauberk of Angmar, obviously discarded--or dropped by accident--by a thief. However, as his own shirt had been ruined in the tar pit, he slipped it on, only wincing a little at the pinch of chainmail against is bare skin.

He knew he'd avoided near DEATH in the shadows, having heard a faint buzzing as he passed them, and caught glimpse of an elongated stinger from an insect. Murder hornets were not something he could've held up against in his current state of barely-clothed.

Obviously, his next stop needed to be the Black Market. There would be gossip there, and hopefully clothes he could buy as well. Or trade for. Something. He thought he might have a few coins hiding in his pockets, albeit they might be sticky with tar by now.

[Lady of Shadow]

It seems that Naelia was mistaken about the last thief's hiding place, but would try to do better this time around. Making her way out of the Shadows, the minioness noticed something amiss near the place she liked to call home, the mighty tower of Barad-dur. "Now that's just suicide!" the minioness thought to herself as she headed in that general direction. After all, didn't her own mother get into trouble like that? If this was indeed the new thief's hiding place, they would not get away so easily, since even her own half-sister, Lathana, attempted to escape the Pits on occasion, and always got caught (mostly by Orngor, or another Orc).

There were rumors around the Land of Shadow that this particular thief thought they could make off with the Pink Tricycle. "Now who in their right mind would try to make off with something like that?" Naelia thought to herself, and concluded it was someone in their right mind trying to rid Mordor of any foo, which included items that were of that color (which was a color that Elves like Lathana would prefer, but made minions like Naelia want to either gag or smash the heads open of those that would bring such items into the Dark Land in the first place). When she first heard the rumor from Orngor, her first thought was that it must be Blinky who would attempt to pull off such a heist, since nobody would suspect them (at least not at the moment the item in question went missing).

[Zôrzimril]

Regdush was in a bit of a pickle. You see, he'd paused outside On the Rocks (on his way to retrieve more alcohol, of course) and apparently had stood still for too long, for the tar coating him had hardened until it was essentially a full-body cast. He grunted and squirmed as much as he could, cursing Fleeg from the tips of his flappy ears to the ends of his befungused toes. Why? Well, it WAS Fleeg's fault that he was out here all on his own. If his stupid hERmaNO De CaOs hadn't been so bleeding sensitive about a boring death, they could've pranked at least a dozen people by now, maybe even killed a handful, too. But noooOOOoOOooOOo. Here he was, encased in tar. "ARHGLHGGHGHGHGH!!" came his muffled scream.

With a ssssssss, a well-muscled Lava Snake slithered out of the pub and pressed its fiery body next to the tar encasing Reg's feet for several minutes before sliding into the shadows. The tar began to melt and slough off, and he wiggled his toes and stomped his feet and kicked his legs until he was free. "Well, I'll be a fell beast's uncle!" Reg marveled. "Who knew my feet were so powerful?!" He gave a few random kicks and jabs at nothing in particular to demonstrate his strength before wandering into the pub.

A few minutes later, he emerged with three bottles of clear spirits in tow. He'd barely escaped from that creepy weirdo who had recently taken up residence as a bartender, Frost. That guy really needed to put on some more clothes. Anyway. Whatever. Enough about bartenders and their varying states of undress. It was time! Time to wander off in an alcohol-induced haze and find Fleeg to give him a free trial of a Mordorian full-body scrub.

[Moriel]

The thief has NOT been found!
The item has NOT been found!
The hiding place HAS been found!

[Fuin Elda]

Umoya had heard there was a thief about and seeing as she had a part of the Black market that would simply not do. Not that catching one would make much of a difference as there was ALWAYS a thief about it was always useful as a business person to get rid of as many of them as possible. She was decided to start with looking in The Black Market.

But who and what that was the question... Personally she felt that of all the people to look like a thief it would have to be Narv. he just had this... Look to him and what would someone like that steel? Probably Grond.

With that she headed off to investigate if she was right.

[The Good Hunter]

Cirith Ungol sucked. There was no way around it. Fleeg hated the place. It was full of spiders, or as his old paw would say “Spodahs” and Fleeg hated spiders. They were inferior to the much better named “murder hornet” and they tasted like shire. He gagged and threw up a little in his mind, the goblin’s imagination running away with all the images of squished spiders, their guts half spilling out and their spiny legs twitching in the… stop. Stop it Fleeg. He really needed to stop doing that. Even without all the spiders, he’d still hate this place. It smelled. As a goblin who loved nothing more than a bottle of fermented mushroom grog, saying something smelled was a big deal. Cirith Ungol was the worst. Maybe Reg had been cleverer than he thought. His HeRmAnO dE cAoS must have known how much he hated this place. Melkor’s black earth! It smelled like Reg’s sweaty pits in here.

Wait, was that? Fleeg peered around a corner doing his best to crapt (or however Reg spelled it) out through the gates and lo and behold it was the weird as fredegar “hobbit” Jorgy. What in the snot hills was he doing here? And why was Tzu of all people with him. Were they friends or something? Fleeg could really use his friend right now. Where was Reg? Probably at the bar. He was always at the bar. Suddenly, something occurred to Fleeg: they drank too much. How was that possible? He shrugged. Unfortunately, that physical reaction to a mental phenomenon drew attention to him. Why was that bad? Well he was goblin dressed in nothing but a loincloth, you tell me asshole.

He had to run. So he did. Fleeg was not great at running, preferring to scuttle and hop and skip. He ran as fast as he phlegm green legs would carry him until he found a barrel. The label said it was One Barrel Full of Hobbits but there were no hobbits in here presently. That was good. Jorgy and Tzu were hot on his tail (did goblins have tails?) and he couldn’t afford to try and find another hiding spot.

[Taethowen]

Elale had not shown up again yet, so he continued his journey toward the Black Market, picking up his whistling once again. He'd heard that ScaryZôr was there, and he hoped to get his hands on the One Ring just so he could be as scary as she was. Whether it would work or not was debatable, but he could try.

[Lady of Shadow]

"Could I have tracked down the thief"s hiding place already?" Naelia thought to herself as she continued to search through the place she called home, the mighty tower of Barad-dur. Though she may have found the thief's hiding place, she was mistaken about the item that mysteriously went missing or the identity of the thief responsible.

As she wandered through the halls of the Dark Tower, the minioness could have sworn she saw Moriel coming up from the Pits."Oh please don't tell me she tried to help my half-sister escape!" Naelia thought to herself, since Lathana was still imprisoned within the Pits, and every time someone came up from there (even trusted minions), she had this thought in the back of her mind that they were trying to help her Elven half-sister escape."But why would they do that? To get back at me somehow?" the minioness wondered, shaking off the thought when she came across the Lava Snake that seemed to be blocking her way."Of all the things to make off with!" Naelia thought to herself as she wondered why a thief would try to knock off such an item. And in the Dark Tower of all places, since it may have been surrounded by a lake of lava coming from Mount Doom, but there was none in the Tower itself, at least not in an area where the minioness most transversed.

[Moriel]

The thief has NOT been found!
The item has NOT been found!
The hiding place has NOT been found!

[Taethowen]

Unfortunately, the market had been fairly empty and there was no sign of anyone he wanted to see. He couldn't think of anywhere else to go now except to swing by On The Rocks and see if Elale had made it there yet. He didn't go in, though, as just when he arrived, a woman who distinctly looked not-of-Mordor exited the pub with a serious look on her face, a messenger pigeon carried in one hand. With a sinking feeling, he realized this must be Taethowen, and it seemed that she was leaving earlier than expected. Carefully, he approached the pub and looked inside. He was disappointed to see that Elale was not there (I'll have to keep job hunting for her, he thought.), but he did espy a not-Sequined Bumflap Onesie which looked rather comfortable.

[Fuin Elda]

She was rooting around the black market for hours, and the haradrim had found nothing. Nothing at all not even a chicken out of place. And do you know who she blamed that on?

Sil. It was absolutely all Sil's fault it was always her fault. She was always up to something so Umoya was naturally very suspicious of her, and she needed to find out if she was up to something. So off she went to see if Sil had made off with one rotting Leg O' Las to On the Rocks and was laughing all the way. And not a proper evil laugh either it was like some sort of strange high shrill very very girly laugh that would suit an elf more. It was highly disturbing. And if it wasn't this time it would be her one of these times because it would not surprise her at all.

[Lady of Shadow]

It seems that Naelia was mistaken about the thief's hiding place. Either that, or else they chose a new location when they sensed that the minioness might be on to them. As she left the place she liked to call home (she could always return if the thief eluded her once again), she found herself tracking the guilty party into the Black Market keeping her eyes peeled as she did so, since the last time she followed a potential thief into this area she encountered her Ladyship, who seemed to be expanding her territory,

Whilst she was being careful searching the area, Naelia could have sworn she came across the Grobby, hidden in plain site. "This seems to be a popular item to try and knock off." the minioness thought to herself as she could have sworn she saw Uruva sneaking around the area. "Ah, the plot thickens." Naelia thought to herself as she began to track who she thought was responsible for making off with something that didn't belong to them, keeping a watchful eye out for anything out of the ordinary, since she was still a little iffy about the place after encountering Shelob once upon a time.

[The Good Hunter]

This place really stank. This wasn’t a barrel to keep hobbits in. Fleeg found that out very quickly. When he landed, he landed in a pile of rancid sweet pickles. Who would let sweet pickles go to waste?! Fleeg’s rage was suddenly, and problematically, triggered. He was by no means The Hulk even though they shared a color palette. What… that was some strange 4th wall leaning there Fleeg, slow your roll. He burst out of the barrel like a goblin shark (those were definitely real even if no one in Middle Earth had seen one yet) and kicked the barrel over the nearest ledge so it burst ten stories down with a great crash. The scent of rancid pickles filled the air. That was going to be a great distraction. He hoped his ChAoS BrO would be proud. It was particularly chaotic after all. Fleeg needed to get to On the Rocks so he could tell him. Fleeg instinctively knew he was there, where else would that fleabag be?

He was about to leave the confines of Cirith Ungol and escape the spiders forever when he was waylaid by a bounding and skipping Sil. He thought he was a goner for sure, but they didn’t want to eat him, or stab him, not today at least. They needed his help with an argument they were having with Elenhir. Why they wanted Fleeg of all people was beyond him. He suspected Sil was skipping and bounding to find anyone to use as fodder for the wrath of the loremaster. Fleeg was royally screwed, or at least nobly screwed as there was no royalty in Mordor. Well there was the Witch-King, but did he count? Did he have an heir? A Witch-Prince if you will, or a Witch-Dauphin? A Witch-Princess possibly? Anyway, he was getting off track.

Or apparently, he wasn’t. As fate would have it (or in this case the 4th wall) that was the exact argument Sil and Elenhir were having. What would the heir to the Witch-King be called? Elenir held that it didn’t matter, and the question was irrelevant because the Witch-King is now the Lord of the Nazgûl but Sil was insistant on having an answer. And they had brought a Cat-o’-Nine-Tails to make sure that there would be a satisfactory answer.

[Zôrzimril]

Those three bottles of alcohol sure went quick. Reg, being rather largeish and brutish, was not really one to sip daintily at his booze, after all. He hadn't made it too far down the ashy road when he did an about-face and returned to On the Rocks. It just kinda seemed like the place to be to cause mAxiMUm cHAos, you know?

So in he barged, shoving open the door and immediately looking around for the creepy weirdo bartender. Apparently, Frost had taken to doling out Pearls of wisdom to patrons of the pub, as he was yammering on about the best way to entrap people in evil witchy spells or something. Regdush didn't need magic (except the sort that allowed him to procure alcohol), so he ignored these proclamations. Out of paranoia, he peered up into the rafters to ensure that One George wasn't getting ready to pounce. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing emerged. Perhaps Thalionwen had absconded with the Georges. If anyone could tame those grouchy little beasties, it was Thalionwen. Reg had heard she was quite good at making friends with anyone, as she had married an orc, for crying out loud.

New booze acquired, Regdûsh glanced around. If Fleeg was here, Reg was definitely going to kick him down the stairs into the fighting pit, then dump pure spirits over any open wounds he might acquire (or perhaps give him some new open wounds and then pour spirits on em). That'd teach that centipede-for-brains not to cross him! And then perhaps they could resume their habitual cHaotIc ways.

[Moriel]

The thief has NOT been found!
The item HAS been found!
The hiding place HAS been found!

[Dwim]

What a nightmare all of that had been. Dwim had fallen into multiple traps, running around Mordor naked save for the spider webs wrapped around him. He'd been so close to saving the wine stash too, but just not quick enough. But that was all in the past. The talk around town was now about that elf Legolas. He'd been attacked and was now missing a leg. Apparently One Rotting Leg O’ Las had been found at On the Rocks. Dwim was beginning to realise the pub was a very popular place for stashing stolen goods. But who would have had bold enough to attack Legolas and take off with one of his legs? Why, it sounded like something that Winddancer would do.

[Fuin Elda]

Well she was getting closer she was sure of it, she could feel it in her haradrim haradric? her bones. That was the important part she could feel that she was getting close she was in the right place in On the Rocks and she was pretty certain she was closing in on the one rotting Leg O'Las now she just needed to find out who would steel such a thing since Sil had apparently been cleared by the fact she was no where to be seen in that location anyways she was still certain Sil was in fact the mastermind of this whole affair. Instead though she looked at who was about and decided that perhaps it was Dwim she didn't overly know Dwim. but seemed like someone that might steel the Leg'O'LAs

[Taethowen]

He was growing bored as he waited, not really sure why he was still lingering outside On the Rocks, other than that he had nowhere else to go. With a groan, he settled into a cross-legged seat on the ground and started whistling again as he watched the door. At some point, he chuckled, randomly wondering what the reactions inside would be if a Ducky (not the crazy wizard, but an actual duck) wandered inside wearing a Sequined Bumflap Onesie. At the least, everyone would have a laugh.

[The Good Hunter]

Stupid argument settled, Sil won of course because well it’s Sil, Fleeg was finally free to get the heck out of Cirith Ungol and to On the Rocks where he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt he would found Reg passed up under a table somewhere. His SoAhc OrB did not have the alcohol tolerance that he had. Being a big stupid orc did not have all the advantages over being a goblin, that or Reg just couldn’t hold his liquor. If only there was a way to document the evidence of Reg’s passed out drunkenness and retain it for future generations. Drawing a picture would take too long and Fleeg was a terrible artist to begin with. If only there was a way to capture an image with utter clarity and exactness. Oh well, he’d have to settle for his memory palace.

So on he went, avoiding Dimcairien as she prophesied doom and fire on the street corner. He had heard all that before but living in Mordor desensitized one to the prospect of a fiery death. It was more an inevitability than anything else. He did not, however, avoid Krumûr, her newest acolyte. He was much more forceful in his conviction and threw hot tar at Fleeg, saying this was what awaited him unless he repented. But Fleeg was too busy screaming to hear what he said after that. Wow that stuff was hot! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

He ran and ran and ran until finally the tar cooled (his logic being that he would run so fast that the tar would have no choice but to freeze) and he was left with a ruined shirt and pair of pants. They weren’t ruined necessarily, just had scalding holes in them where the tar burned away the fabric that might get him kicked out of the bar. Dammit! There was nothing for it now. He was going to have to buy and wear one of Sil’s Sequined Bumflap Onesies. Reg was going to have a field day, assuming that is if he was conscious.

[Zôrzimril]

Reg sat in a dark corner of On the Rocks, chugging his booze, flipping a piece of flint idly up and down as he waited for Fleeg to flail into the pub. Aha! Here he was, the tone-deaf turd waffle himself, wailing and screeching like a musical saw as he flopped into the pub with some strategic holes burned in his clothes.

"HA!" Regdûsh guffawed, pounding a hairy fist on the table and making the bottle of spirits jump. The only thing that could improve upon Fleeg's humiliation was if BabyZôr suddenly appeared and laughed and laughed at him, the little shire rooster. There was no denying that Fleeg had an inexplicable and huge crush on that lady! How hilarious would it be if she kicked him to the proverbial curb!

Apparently Fleeg was in search of a Sequined Bumflap Onesie to wear. Even better. Tears welled in Reg's eyes. It would be so easy to jam another wedgie up his cHAoS bRo's bum with that outfit, and it'd sparkle like a wealthy woman's neck in all its sequinny glory. Reg channeled the slithery energy of Blinky and slowly slunk through the shadows toward Fleeg, striking his flint in preparation. It was time for the little Witch-King's toolbag to burn like the smelly pile of trash he was!

[Lady of Shadow]

It seemed that the person responsible continued to elude Naelia, but she may have tracked down their hiding place, On the Rocks. The reason the minioness didn't think of it before is because she rarely drank, so she tried to avoid Mordor's "watering holes" as she liked to call them. Another reason was that she was a little suspicious of certain folk that were known as the establishment's "regulars" whether minions or those of the free folk who dared to enter such a place whilst up to no good within the Land of Shadow. If anyone had a grudge against the minioness, they could simply poison her drink, so it was a good thing Naelia only came into such places "on occasion".

Trying to track down clues as to who the guilty party might be, the minioness came across the Cat-o'-Nine-Tails."What kind of a item is this?" Naelia thought to herself as she tried to find where in this establishment the guilty party was hiding. Just as she was about to call it quits and think that she had gotten the wrong location (yet again), she could have sworn she saw Lailorn challenging someone to a drinking contest. nervously looking over her shoulder as if she were scouting someone. "Or perhaps trying to avoid attracting attention?" the minioness thought to herself as she continued to watch whom she thought was hiding something in case she might slip up and reveal something.

[Moriel]

Moriel stumbles in, straggle-haired, wearing fuzzy pajamas, and drinking a large Pumpkin Spice Latte stolen from On the Rocks, muttering about how time has no meaning...

The thief has NOT been found!
The item HAS been found!
The hiding place HAS been found!

[Taethowen]

On the Rocks was hopping tonight, it seemed. He'd watched so many thief hunters (and thieves) wander by or in, and was glad to keep himself out of the tangled mess. The oddest sight, though, was a little Hobbit lass named Pearl--brave of her to show up in Mordor--carrying a Cat O' Nine Tails. If he hadn't already been sitting down, he would have fallen over at the sight.

[Zôrzimril]

Hehe! Fleeg was on fire! And there was nothing the ol' booger-filled fleabag could do about it! On the Rocks was about to get a rare show: a flaming wide-mouthed tree frog doing the flailabout, a hugely unpopular and erratic dance. And with a free light show! Hehe!

And so it was with great amusement that Reg observed as Gwai entered the pub and screeched at the sight of a flaming goblin. And of course, being from Rohan, where Silendris had tricked all the locals into wearing Sequined Bumflap Onesies, she was dressed accordingly. Muahaha. Regdush sucked down some more alcohol and sat back to watch as Fleeg danced about in a panic.

[Fuin Elda]

She narrowed her eyes she had to be getting close. Honestly she had to be getting close... Stinkingingly close to the One rotting Leg O'Las in On the Rocks. The problem was who. It always seemed to be who.

She eyed who the other sleuths were going after and decided that it would be wise to go after someone else and so she headed off to find this 'PoshZor' muttering about what would be next? SportyZor? GingerZor? The names of these theives. Honestly they needed to stop right now thank you very much.

[Lady of Shadow]

Convinced that it was indeed the Cat-o'-Nine-Tails that was taken without permission, Naelia continued to search the "watering hole" known as On the Rocks for clues to the thief's identity."This thief is a crafty one, since even I have no clue as to who could make off with such an item." the minioness thought to herself as a new person she overlooked came into view.

It was none other than DEATH with a sly smile on their face, as if to disquise a laugh."Oh ho! Thought you could pull the wool over our eyes, did you?" Naelia thought to herself as she began to track this new "person of interest". She wasn't just referring to herself, but to all the hunters that came to the same conclusion as to the thief's hiding place, but was baffled as to the identity of the thief themselves."At least this one didn't try to throw us off the trail by setting traps." the minioness thought to herself, hoping that she wouldn't regret it if the guilty party continued to elude her.

[Dwim]

When Dwim finally managed to enter On The Rocks without falling into any traps, the first thing he noticed was the dreadful smell of rotting flesh. It distracted him from his desire for a refreshing drink. Yep, it certainly seemed like there was One Rotting Leg O’ Las somewhere in here. Then, just as Regdush had done, the hobbit noticed Gwai had arrived. She was wearing some strange kind of costume, referred to as a bumflap onesie. That sure was suspicious. Perhaps she was hiding Legolas' rotting leg under somewhere under there.

[The Good Hunter]

As Fleeg finally made it into On the Rocks, he thoughts could smell something cooking. Whatever it was, it was foul and delicious. The phlegm and puke colored goblin sniffed the air greedily, eager to find the source of this wonderful meat and steal it. He sniffed and… hmmm, this was odd. The smell was very near, and very strong. Why was it so hot in here? Oh… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Fleeg was on fire! This goblin’s on fire!

He howled and screamed and screeched (and maybe peed himself) before diving into the sink behind the bar. There was, predictably, no water in the sink and the flames continued to blaze over the poo unfortunate soul. His life began flashing before his eyes. It had been a short life, or at least he thought so. No one was sure how long goblins lived because they often died before some soft of old age could be reached. Fleeg had been puttering about for 20 years now, most of that getting picked on by Mig or beaten up by Reg. There was that one time though he snuck into the carriage of PoshZôr, aka the Frostmama (maybe because she was cold or something, Fleeg had no idea). She had been bedecked in Pearls and other fine jewels and silks and all sorts. Fleeg managed to steal a single pearl from the necklace before he’d been booted (literally) from the carriage.

What did any of that have to do with his current conflagratory state? Not a damn thing, it was just a cool memory. He was still very much on fire and very much in need of exstinguishment. The Sequined Bum-Flap Onesie was ruined. But that wasn’t the worst of it! No, the worst was that Regdûsh or “Troll-Barnacle" was there laughing. Wait, this wasn’t the worst, it was the best! Reg was here and set him on fire! Regdûsh started the fire!

[Moriel]

The thief has NOT been found!
The item HAS been found!
The hiding place HAS been found!

[Zôrzimril]

Reg slapped his knees and threw back his head and laughed as Fleeg flopped around On the Rocks, looking for a way to extinguish the flames.

"Hhhhha!" he choked, finally able to squeeze out a word. "Hhhhhha!" All those Hs. Hhhhhhhhm. Could that be Krumhûr lurking in the corner, inhaling slowly to calm himself amid the ruckus caused by the flaming cAoS before him? Or was he somehow psychically trying to help someone learn how to spell his name correctly? Or maybe he was looking so focused because he really wanted to summon Sil and acquire a Sequined Bumflap Onesie? Reg wasn't quite sure, as his vision was a bit blurry from the drink and he couldn't read or write, after all.

"Oi! You!" he shouted at the figure. "Are you especially finicky about how your name is spelled or somethin?" This was an intriguing diversion from the Flammable Fleeg. But sooner or later, Reg was just going to have to dump the rest of his spirits on Fleeg to help grow the fire, wasn't he?

[Lady of Shadow]

"Man, this thief is a crafty one!" Naelia thought to herself as the guilty party continued to elude her. How many places can one hide in a place referred to as On the Rocks? The minioness would have to keep searching until she found them. There was one person whom nobody (which included Naelia herself) had considered... the one and only Dimcairien. "Now why didn't I come across them before?" the minioness often wondered. Probably because they were being as crafty as they could to stay out of public places so that nobody would suspect them. Well, now somebody did, and as Naelia tried to snuff out their exact hiding spot, she came across One rotting Leg O'Las hidden in plain sight. "And I thought it was that other item." the minioness thought to herself as she seemed to have the wool pulled over her eyes once again.

[Fuin Elda]

As far as she was concerned there were only two beings that it could be, she decided to look at Dimcairien first, almost like a mandrill pondering things as she sat On the Rocks. The question was was the 1 Rotting Leg O' Las stolen or gotten legitimately ? She needed to see if she could find a receipt for the thing. Does one even get receipts in a place like this? Probably scratched into the rotting leg she figured. With that she scrambled down to see if she could get a closer look and confirm if it was in fact the stolen item.

[Taethowen]

The hobbit lass didn't keep the Cat O' Nine Tails for long, he noticed from his hiding spot across the street from On the Rocks. There was another thief in the mix, one he hadn't expected in the slightest - Elenhir. It seemed he had already been waiting in the pub and as the hobbit lass pushed the door open, this thief brushed past her and stole the whip! What a twist...

[Taethowen]

Hey @Moriel? I just double-checked my running list against the list of thieves in the opening post, and against the current round guesses... and every thief has been guessed at least once?

[Moriel]

@Taethowen you are correct! After reviewing the thread, it turns out I made a mistake in an early round of this game, resulting in the elimination of the actual thief from the suspect list. This means...

YOU ALL LOSE.

There is no winner of this round of Thief Hunt, the thief gets off scot free, and all Minion Hunter rankings remain the same.

Thief Hunt Round Six, commence!!!

Seriously though sorry about that everyone, I am unfortunately human and subject to the errors of my species

[Fuin Elda]

The Haradrim woman scowled at the fact that she had been wrong simply because of mistake. Which was fine, she suppose this was Mordor they were all technically thieves in some way or another but still she had wanted to beat the woman with the leg o'las and come away victorious. She still would sooner or later she was sure of that but she was right back to square one now.

She moved away from her currently location heading for the Morannon she wondered if she would find Ketchup the fell beast there with Narv seemed like a sensible place for that lot to be and honestly who wouldn't want to steal Ketchup?

(honestly what confuses me is when there are two blue names in a post so I'm not sure which one is actually being guessed unless it's very very clear in the story line that they've written so I do not blame you at all Moriel as you have to keep track of all of our possibly confusing posts)

[Moriel]

@Fuin Elda Being able to guess two persons, places, or things is a perk of increasing your Minion Hunter rank. Details in the OP

[The Good Hunter]

Weirdly feeling as though he had spent that last several days in a futile attempt to do something, Fleeg remembered he was still, in fact, ablaze with purple flames. Why purple? That’s a good question. Fleeg didn’t have an answer. He’s completely colorblind except for black, white, shades of grey, and shades of green. Did he even know it was purple? Probably not. Reg, his hErMaNo De CaOs, probably knew but he was too busy laughing at the sentient booger to tell him that he was on purple fire and could probably use some purple rain to save him. Would he get this purple rain? Well I suppose that depended on if he could get to Krumhûr in time. Krumhûr, you see had locked the door to the pub and was about to hold everyone hostage while he proselytized about his newfound faith. If Fleeg could convince the man he was a true adherent to the purifying fires of Mount Doom, perhaps he could persuade him to extinguish the flames that threatened to eat the goblin alive. However, this plan was put in jeopardy, not by his companion Reg-douche, but Elenhir, who seemed very, very eager sell his soul to the volcano.

Fleeg needed to think quickly, a specialty of his. What could he do to impede Elenhir’s progress? Throw One George at him of course. Only one you ask; well you try to capture more than one of those terrifying weasels and get back to me.

So back to the plan. Fleeg planned on throwing the weasel at Elenhir. That was it. This wasn’t some super elaborate plot. He’s a goblin. He’s not exactly a ranking member of The Hall of Injustice here people.

OOC: I'm super sneaky Fuin, it's all to throw you off

[Taethowen]

Perhaps she was a bit arrogant, thinking of herself, pridefully, as DEATH's Handmaiden. Because this was taking it just a little too far. Even if she was a literal maid, there was a limit. Like how many times one could climb up and down the narrow stairs of Cirith Ungol to retrieve a stupid Pink Tricycle. She definitely needed a new job.

[Lady of Shadow]

"So, the thief got away because of a technicality, did they?" Naelia thought to herself as she finally figured out why it was so hard to track down the last thief. "Well, hopefully the present thief won't!" the minioness promised as she scoured her native homeland for signs of anything else that seemed to vanish without a trace.

Somehow ending up near Shelob's Lair, Naelia hoped that her Ladyship was still expanding her territory, since she was still a little weary after coming across one during a previous Thief Hunt. Just to be safe, the minioness took out her rather nasty looking whip just in case of running into any unexpected surprises while searching the area for the Pink Tricycle. "I see someone is still trying to rid the Dark Land of any foo!" Naelia thought to herself, since this was the second time this particular item had turned up in a place it wasn't supposed to be. What it was doing in the Land of Shadow in the first place continued to baffle the minioness, but she thought that it might be Sil that was trying to rid her native homeland of it. "Strange creatures, these Silendris." Naelia thought to herself as she continued to hunt for clues, her trusty whip at the ready in case she ran into any traps or Shelob herself (after coming across her in a previous hunt, the minioness wasn't taking any chances).

[Zôrzimril]

Apparently the shadowy guy in the corner was Krumhûr. Reg was right! He had succeeded not only in setting Fleeg on fire, but also in guessing who some shady guy was! This was a day to remember. Very rarely did Regdûsh the orc succeed so many times in such a short timeframe. It was amazing that he was still alive, really. There was that time he'd poked Ketchup the Fell Beast in the eye and had to run away, chucking Fleeg at the beastie to distract it. Or the time that he'd scaled the walls of the Barad-dûr to retrieve a frisbee that Fleeg had tossed up onto a windowsill. Or the other time that he'd had to flee from the wrath of Winddancer when he had accidentally interrupted her at work in the Pits, thinking that the screams of her victim were just Fleeg singing in the shower.

It seemed like maybe Reg's life might be less cHaOTic without Fleeg in it. Hmmm. What to do? Should he help the little goblin out after all? Really, what was the point of life if not for a bit of ChaOs every now and then? Or would Fleeg just be even more pissed off that Reg hadn't tried to kill him creatively enough? What a dunderheaded stalk of celery! Argh!

With these thoughts swirling in his admittedly pretty small brain, Regdûsh ran up to Fleeg and dumped a fresh bottle of spirits onto the purple flames.

[Dwim]

Dwim was so confused. He'd actually given up looking for whoever it was that had Legolas' leg. Every single minion and every suspicious freep known to man had been accused of this crime and every accusation had been dismissed. It was bewildering. Maybe Moriel was behind all this (but hadn't she been accused too?). In any case, the stench of the rotting leg had become too much, so the hobbit left the pub to do something else. This thief hunting caper was exhausting and hadn't worked out so well for him. Akrag had been winning everything, finding all the thiefs and making a name for himself, before he'd handed the reigns over to the hobbit. Dwim felt like he was failing to keep the orc's legacy alive.

He decided he needed to take a small break to take the pressure off himself. Maybe he'd do some sightseeing instead. He'd heard that Grond was a rather fearsome and impressive thing to look at, and apparently it was on show at The Morannon. He knew where that was, so he decided to take a stroll over to that big old gate and see what all the fuss was about.

[Moriel]

The thief has NOT been found!
The item HAS been found!
The hiding place HAS been found!