Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

Traps

The thief was obviously very crafty, for they have left a few traps for the unsuspecting.

Covered Pit of Stakes: Enter this place and you will immediately fall into the dug out pit to your untimely doom and cannot play for the remainder of this round (until the thief has been found and we start again)! You are free however to describe your torment or/and death and haunting of other players.

Variety of Snakes: In one place, the thief has left a variety of poisonous and non-poisonous snakes to attack whoever enters. If you are unlucky enough to cross these snakes, you are bitten and must RP your way out of the situation. You may not guess until the next turn.

Fell Beast’s Lair: The thief has been clever enough to abduct a fellbeast and you waste a great deal of time running from the hungry, angry creature. You must RP your way out of the situation and may not guess until the next turn.

IMPORTANT: With the exception of the Pit of Stakes, just because a location has a trap, does NOT mean it is not the correct location. You might just have to try more than once to get the right combination...


The Rules of The Game

1. All posts 300+ characters and IC
2. You must post name of thief, place where the thief is hiding, and item that they stole in bold and the according color somewhere in your post
3. You may post the same combination as another player
4. All are welcome

SERIES RANKING
If you win a Thief Hunt, you will become a Minion 1st Rank Hunter. Nothing special happens.

If you win another, you will become a Minion 2nd Rank Hunter. When you reach this rank, 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.

If you win again, you become a Minion 3rd Rank Hunter, and will not be affected by any traps, in addition to the 2nd Rank abilities. If you stumble on a trap, you may redirect it to the player of your choice.

The next rank is Minion 4th Rank Hunter, where you again chooses your specialization and post two Thieves, Places, or Items, according to which specialization you choose, in addition to the 3rd Rank abilities.

The final rank is Minion 5th Rank Hunter. When someone attains this rank, they are declared the Series Winner and a new series begins.

The list of series ranks will be edited into the OP as the series progresses.

"In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine..." Frost sang half in a daze as he made his way through the rocks and crags to work at On the Rocks for the first time as the new bartender. He'd spent the previous three days and nights "testing" Írimë’s Wine Stash and now half of the bottles were more than half empty and the other half was fully empty. They had all been good though. That much he could not deny. There was a port, or there had been a port, that tasted so sweet he was back in Umbar sailing his first ship. It's possible that wine had been fortified with opium. Still, it was good. But now Frost had a problem. Who was he going to blame for taking all the wine? How was he going to get replacements? What was he going to do about the hangover?

Ducky shielded his eyes against the blowing dust. The plain of Gorgoroth was not welcoming, but the pay was good. He had been hired for his bird-level detection skills to find Grond. He had been given a list of leads, but no particular suspects; that was left up to his own superior acumen. Personally, biases aside, he hated Nessila, so he was going to start his deductions with her. It wasn't that he thought she had done it, he just (with no bias) thought she was the most disgusting slime ever to walk this Middle-earth.

He scanned the horizon. Nobody in sight, just dust storms. He decided to peek Beneath a Rock. Who knows, maybe he would get lucky.

"Hoom hom!" Robert the Plant mutters as he looks around over the Black Land. This was certainly not terrain he was used to. "Let me see here," the old Ent muttered to himself, "What did our friend from Umbar Bob the Sea-gull used to say? we'd steal away every chance we could, to the backroom, to the alley, or the trusty woods" Robert thought for a moment. That seemed like good advice. It was quite obvious The Shadows were the place to look. Now, for what was stolen? Well, those Night moves would not be possible without Írimë’s Wine Stash.

Oh, and it was obviously Turin

Winddancer entered the Thief Hunt, having heard many wild stories about this activity. Determined to see for herself what it was all about, she eyed the other contestants with suspicion before they went off to track whom they thought were the culprits. She did nod in agreement that it could be either of those already named, all those minions foul enough to commit the crime, however she had a sneaky feeling it was not one of them. She smiled with glee when she saw the One George, not having seen it since it rode on the back of one of the most horrific minions ever known and lured it over. "Go! Seek out this foul minion who dares to steal from other minions!"

Akrag the orc could not sleep. His thoughts were dominated by the fact that his nemesis Moriel had won the whole last series of Thief Hunt, and he had only managed to win one round himself. But she'd received a promotion, he heard. She was no longer a thief hunter but was now a thief hunt organiser. Very good, he thought to himself with pleasure. As the only other minion known to have recently captured a thief, Akrag saw himself as the new leader. Therefore, he booked himself a whole floor of Barad-dûr to revel in his own greatness.

He invited a few people and made sure to provide a feast with all the trimmings. He even had a pit of Lava Snakes cooked up, so those who had never eaten one could try. But one of his vegan guests didn't like that and tried to rescue the cooked, already dead snakes. Before he knew it the snakes were gone, even before anyone had a chance to taste them. Who was responsible for this disgrace? Akrag would find out. "Get here Dwim, you thieving vegan mongrel!" he yelled out, before he had any real proof for such an accusation.

Gwai was still drowning her sorrows of her distinct lack of Thief Hunting prowess in a glass of mead. Or at least, something she fervently hoped was mead, and had opted to not think about too closely. There was some activity on the street, apparently there was a new thief on the loose, but she barely had the energy to care. She looked at the liquid in the cup in front of her. Definitely not mead. It tasted like something one would have found with a Huge Barrel Full of Hobbits. Who was the proprietor here? Frost? Gwai wasn't certain, but was starting to get more enthusiastic about not drowning her sorrows. Or at least, drowning her sorrows with something more appetizing. Was there somewhere else to go? Not being familiar with Mordor, Gwai headed to On the Rocks, which sounded as if it would have something tasty, and hopefully ice cubes.

Ducky found a note under the rock. It read as follows:

"Mwahahahahah! Yes, it was me, Nessila! Bet you didn't expect that you doofus wizard! *points and laughs* You can find me at The Shadows, if you want to tell me how wonderful I am and how you should always be my slave. And I can show off my Pink Tricycle for you! But you probably won't because you're too stupid to figure out simple directions, like every wizard. Whatever loser!" It concluded with a horrible pink scribbling of Nessy's name.

Ducky sighed. Whether the directions were true out of arrogance or merely a ploy for her to laugh at him, Ducky did not know. He had no choice, however, but to find out.

"Lived a miner, forty-niner and he's daughter Clementine..." Frost was closing up after his shift when he thought of something. It wasn't really something helpful in his situation for replacing Írimë’s Wine but it might serve to get him the capital to replenish the stash. She hadn't been in today, something about lounging around having people make her eggs and bean juice, so he hadn't had to worry about what lie to come up with. Still, he needed cash to restock the wine, and he was never going to get enough through On the Rocks to be able to pay for 70 bottles of rare wine. Perhaps though, he might be able to procure one of the fabled Hauberk of Angmar. They were rare and actually well made. He had a few ideas on how to find one. He would just need to find a way to get word to the north.

Akrag quickly descended the spiral stairways of Barad-dûr, trying to get to Dwim before he escaped the tower. Those lava snakes were tough to cook, and he would not have the effort go to waste. He would have to apologise to his guests later for disappearing from his own party so soon.

The pursuit was fierce. Dwim had thrown many obstacles in his path. For the most part Akrag was able to jump over them or around them, but some of them he couldn't avoid, and there were now grazes on his legs and bruises already forming. As he neared the 43rd floor of the tower, a new obstacle lay before him. The orc tripped On the Rocks that had been put in his path, and he went flying and tumbling down, down below, until he landed with an intense stabbing pain coming from his side. He looked down with anguish, and there coming out of his ribs was the Mouth of Sauron’s Toothbrush.

Silendra stretched and yawned and rolled over. One of her joints loosened. Alas. At least she was still in the pub - On The Rocks was as good a place as any to awaken. Her mouth tasted like Rotting Leg O Las and she desperately needed a drink. (Nothing to do with the taste in her mouth. Silendra just always needs a drink). Was that Pub Wench Frost about to pour it for her?

Keeping up with the One George was not an easy feat at the best of times and this, didnt seem to be the best of times. Several times she has almost lost the foul creature as it skittered and jumped over and around dead and rotting things, before finally vanishing into what looked like an abandoned cave. Winddancer knew well that in Mordor things were never as they seemed, but the One George had fearlessly bounced right through the opening and while she knew it was fearless, she also knew it was not stupid, which was why she slowly but carefully made her way in. Taking her time she snuck deeper and deeper inside the foul smelling cave, her crimson eyes flicking this way and that and while she could likely see better than any human in here, this was still stretching her to the limit.

Reaching into the depths of her voluminous cloak, she pulled out a flint and tinder box and quickly lit a small flame that would last long enough for her to have a quick look around. The moment the flint struck and created a flame, the light was reflected back at her from a sorce no more than a foot away. There in the dark, two huge eyes were looking back at her. But the split second was all she needed to see what, and who it was. "KETCHUP!!" she cried out with glee. "I thought I had lost you!" Dashing forward, she almost tripped over the fell beasts leg, stumbling in against him and giving him a clumsy hug. Smiling she nuzzled her face against his huge head, wincing as it gave out a loud shriek in greeting. "Woah boy, inside voice, ok?"

With a laugh, she scampered up his body, feeling him lift his leg as he would do to help her climb up and made her way to his back. "Come on George, you little hero!" She waited until she felt George on her shoulder, then she nudge Ketchup with her knee, indicating that she was ready to go and he did not hesitate, immediately making it's way to the entrance. As soon as the fell beast was out, he took to the sky, a gleeful laugh mixed with the bone shattering shriek of the fell beast and the chittering of George.

Drowning her sorrows in mead, or whatever this equivalent was, was definitely improving Gwai’s outlook on her relatively nonexistent thief hunting skills. She was somewhat regretting not stealing on of those Pink Tricycles for herself. Frost looked like the type who would have one, stolen or otherwise. But where to find him? Politely covering her mouth to cover a hiccup, Gwai pondered. He was probably far away, so she would start with something simple, such as Beneath A Rock.

Akrag nearly passed out from the pain, but decided to suck it up for the sake of catching the thief. He found his resolve and ripped the Mouth of Sauron’s Toothbrush from out of his ribs. Orc blood began to pool and then trickle out of the wound in the side of his body, bleeding into his leather armour. He should have worn his chain mail today, that way the toothbrush would never have pierced him. It was a nasty trap for Dwim to leave, and for sure he had already escaped from Barad-dûr by now. Akrag continued to jump down stairs and around corners, almost out of the dark tower himself.

The management of hunting thieves had fallen to the one and only Moriel. Mainly because she was so good she was putting everyone out of business. There needed to be supply for the demand so this was the natural way of things. Nerwen had heard a rumour that her old friend Nessila had snatched the Hauberk of Angmar from mighty Barad-dur and she was determined to catch her!

"Right, back to work! Come on Ketchup, we got this!"

Swooping over the Thief Hunt, Winddancer spotted Frost. She had heard that this minion wasn't very lucky with finding culprits and decided that following any of his leads might not be the best thing to do. Though to be fair it was always good to have someone trigger the traps. But right now she needed to find out what was stolen, having trouble chosing what had gone missing out of the stories she had been hearing. "Gosh Ketchup, time must have flown. I recall the Pink Tricycle, but for the love of me I cannot remember who it was given to! I am getting too old for this shire.."

Sure enough, there was no trace of Nessila at The Shadows. No doubt she was spying on him with an oversized telescope from atop her comically small Pink Tricycle. The fact that she would be the one laughing at him, while in that situation, was intensely frustrating. Not to mention the fact that the Ringwraiths would be breathing down his neck soon, wondering what good he was other than Fell fodder if he couldn't find the thief. Why, he might even be dragged off to Barad-dur and tortured for eternity, seeing as how he could not die naturally from old age! A horrible fate....one he would avoid by catching this thief!

"Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine..." the words to the song were undeniable alien, but that was never something to stopped Frost before. They were comforting, if not a bit morbid. Morbid songs were good though, out here in the blasted lands of Mordor. His day of work over, Frost spent the rest of the night on the roof of the pub. He was not quite sure if his scheme to steal the Hauberk of Angmar was going to work. He hadn't been able to find his usual contacts. Most of them had all been caught by Moriel so she could place herself at the head of a thief's guild. Írimë would be coming back soon. She had sent a missive to Frost detailing exactly what she expected to return to and there were several references to the wine stash. Perhaps the best to do was hide Beneath a Rock for a while. Maybe?

Oh so NOW they decided it was important to capture the Pink Tricycle thief. Two whole rounds ago in the previous series, Akrag had made a discovery about that bike, at the Morannon, but no one had cared then. Of course, Moriel was in charge now, who was obviously a bit more in tune with these sorts of things, having been crowned Mordor's chief thief hunter. Akrag began his march away from Barad-dur with anger and loathing in his heart, ready to get on the trail of a new thief. He followed his nose as he usually did to see where it would lead him.

(OOC: Nice hunting Gwai!)

Oh hell no!

So frigging close! Winddancer knew there was someting fishy about that Frost, though she had merely thought he was good at setting off the traps, not actually being the thief. "Here George.." she called to the One George as she melded back into the Shadows, her eyes peeled. It was only going to be more difficult this time around as now the dratted thief knew they were on to them and Mordor had way too many hiding places. She endured a rough shove that almost pushed her out of the shadows again, "Alright Ketchup! Calm down, I will get you your snack, stop fretting already.."

Gwai couldn't believe it when Frost immediately confessed to stealing the pink tricycle. She hadn't even had to try any of her fancy interrogation techniques! She figuratively patted herself on the back, and congratulated herself with another glass of ale, or whatever this stuff was called here. She was a professional now! Her fame had probably spread near and far after catching the one thief this one time. All she needed now was another success, and her legend would live on. More importantly, however, she wanted to find Írimë’s Wine Stash as this ale was making her feel...odd. Normally she could hold her liquor, but this stuff...Dwim was probably available to help her celebrate, or preferably, take the heat if Gwai stole the Wine Stash herself. And where better to look for a thief than the Thief Hunt?

OOC @Dwim (Thanks!! Still surprised it wasn't @Moriel somehow )

Another day, another humiliating defeat. Ducky took a long swig from his glass of scotch, then plopped the empty glass down roughly on the table. Sooo typical. You imagine for a moment that life will be different, that victory will be within your grasp, and the universe just snatches it away. Nessila had humiliated him again, by escaping with the One George, and he was left to drown in a swamp of misery with nothing but memories of a happier time. And scotch, lots of scotch. If there was one good thing to be said for the Morannon, it was the availability, if not the quality, of scotch. Ducky leaned back in his chair and let his feelings overwhelm him, and blacked out.

"You are lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry Clementine." That had been embarrassing. He should have known not to go for anything pink. What was he thinking? Frost was very disappointed in himself. Luckily though, it was considered so odd and the tricycle so pink that he was let go with just a stern look. He had to think though. Írimë would be back soon and if she discovered her wine cellar bare he was as dead as dead could be. He had a meeting with Tzu that hopefully would alleviate the pressure a little bit. She was an old friend of Frost's. He could trust her, right? All of the sudden meeting at Dhâd Bûrz seemed like a very bad idea. He'd never been there before, personally. But the stories that he had heard about that fun things that went on there made him very nervous. If Tzu showed up with a Cat O’ Nine Tails he was going to be half way to Khand before nightfall.

Akrag continued to follow his nose, investigating leads here and there. After a while it became clear to him that this whole saga of the stolen Pink Tricycle was not over. Frost the thief had been taken away to Dhâd Bûrz to be tortured for his crime of being caught riding around Mordor on the little tricycle. For whatever reason, it had also been brought to the Black Pits with the prisoner. But Frost was cunning, and rumour was he had somehow managed to escape the Pits, WITH the tricycle! The thief was back at large, and his little pink vehicle of terror had been seen spinning its wheels around the Dark Lands once more.

Nerwen, hunting them thieves

Another day another thief. Now that Moriel was running the show it seemed there was more variety and spice in the thief hunt. So far they had a good idea about the location and the item but not so much an idea of the perpetrator. It seemed Dhâd Bûrz could be a likely place for Sil to hide with Írimë’s Wine Stash. Perhaps Nerwen should go and have a look, or a drink? No just a look...or perhaps a drink. She grinned and decided to make a diversion to the nearest pub, doing what dwarves do best!

Almarëa, who was this Almarëa? Winddancer had not heard of this name in Mordor before, surely it was some mistake as that sounded decidedly like an elf. Looking up at the One George on her shoulder as they hid in the Shadows, Winddancer whispered to it "I think this must be the culprit! But, if she is an elf, not only is she a thief, she must be some kind of undercover agent! We need to find her now! Ketchup! Let's go!" Crawling back onto Ketchup's back, the trio took to the skies, all eyes peeled to find this elf, which should surely stand out like a sore thumb in a land like Mordor.

Gwai wandered down toward the Towers of No Return, still sipping on Írimë’s Wine Stash which she had appropriated (saved a lot of trouble saving receipts and waiting for reimbursement). She still needed to hunt another thief, to ensure her eternal fame and glory. There was no shortage of likely suspects around these parts. She decided to start investigating Thalionwen as a possible suspect. Everyone knew, after all, that Rohirrim were famous for their sneaky thefts.

"Light she was and like a fairy, and her shoes were number nine..." Frost hummed the tune mindlessly. Having avoided Tzu at Dhâd Bûrz and what seemed a vast array of sharp knives (she always did like have at least a dozen different varieties on her person at any given time), Frost found himself in need of a friendly face or, barring that, a face that wasn't going to turn him in. Enter Narv, cave troll extraordinaire. He might not be able to help with Frost's current need to restock Írimë’s Wine Stash but at least he would listen to Frost's woes.

Ducky was dragged from his drunken stupor by a heavy knock on the door. "Come in," he croaked, dry throat aching. The door opened, revealing [b]Frost.[/b] Not that Ducky knew his name. All he saw was another job posting from another minion. "Buzz off, you could pick anyone else on the Morannon." he said. "I'm not taking new jobs." But when Frost explained that there was still a possibility that the One George was recoverable, Ducky began to pay better attention. The promise of plenty of pay helped too.

Akrag didn't have the energy to go chasing Frost around again. He and his tricycle (if the rumours were even true) could pedal their way through Mordor as they pleased. The orc had bigger fish to fry. For with one piece of news came other related pieces, and it was told that there'd been another thievery at Dhâd Bûrz. A supsicious elf had been seen snooping around, probably had escaped her cage, and now the One George was missing. Who was the most suspicious elf he knew? Why, it had to be Almarëa. Akrag bolted towards the black pits before she could get too far.

The One George let out an excited chittering squeal and began running back and forth on her shoulders, occasionally nibbling at her ears. "What! Oooh ok, I see, well done!" Winddancer nudged Ketchup with her knees and the fellbeast began decending towards the Morannon. She could now see the elf known as Almarëa as well and with an evil smirk she patted the fellbeast on the neck and it immediately let out a terrifying screech that would loosen even the bravest person's bladder. Swooping past the elf, Winddancer motioned with her hands and knees for the fellbeast to turn and they made another pass with yet another screech ripping the silence apart.

Gwai was still enjoying appropriating Írimë’s Wine Stash as she continued her hunt for another elusive thief. She probably needed to find some sort of underground network of spies. Around here, probably just called regular citizens. Narv seemed a good minion to start with. Where he could be skulking about, though, remained a mystery. Could he be in Dhâd Bûrz? It was entirely possible. Now to just try to find it. It wouldn't do to wander in circles again.

"Herring boxes without topses, sandals for my Clementine..." It was Thalionwen! Somehow she had figured out that Írimë’s Wine Stash had been consumed, for lack of a better word, and she went and told her! Now Frost was in real trouble! Írimë was not known for her mercy. Frantically, desperately, he began wracking his brain for a solution. Now that she was on the warpath, Írimë would be at the pub in a matter of hours. There was no delaying her at this point. What to do, what to do. If he didn't think of something fast, he was bound for a date with her in Dhâd Bûrz

The One George was not something lightly stolen. That was what Thalionwen had told him when he had begun following the leads by interrogating the local townsfolk. She had been certain that no local would do it. Not only did they have a reverence for the power of Mordor, they were also too much of simpletons to attempt something requiring such finesse. She thought it had to be somebody from Dhâd Bûrz. Ducky thought it more likely that was where the perpetrator would end up, not where they were from. But he knew better than to insult his sources of information. It had been several hours since his last whiskey at 9 AM. Time for another.

"Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine..." Oh balls. Frost suddenly found himself on the wrong side of the law again. Was there really a law to be on the wrong side of in Mordor? If there was, he was in trouble. How had this all happened? He was on the run again. He didn’t need to end up in the wrong side of Dhâd Bûrz again, his kidney still aches when it rained. How was he going to explain this? The One George, whatever the hell that was, had been found in his manse. Had Írimë set him up? Or Thali? Either was possible. This was bad. He was going to have to disappear into the shadows for a while and plan his revenge or his apology. He hoped it was revenge, he was actually good at that.

Akrag found out that Almarëa had an alibi. She was in the Shire solving riddles and guessing games, and had made quite the name for herself there. But his investigation still led to Dhâd Bûrz. The fact that the One George had been stolen from there by an elf was still common knowledge. There was only one elf suspect left that he knew of. Well, it seemed like she was an elf anyway. It had to have been the CounSILlor of Imladris. After asking around, the general consensus was that she had gone "that way!". The fingers were all pointing in that direction. So that way is where he went.

Gwai was starting to run low on Írimë’s Wine Stash, and wondered if it would be possible to hire a thief to get her some more of someone else's stash, as she was probably persona non grata there right now. Sil most likely could get her some more. She was well known as a clever thief, though, and it would take a bit to track her down. She was probably at Dhâd Bûrz, where Gwai already was, but Sil was being quite sneaky in not being found.

The One George started bouncing excitedly on her shoulder as the person by The Morannon dived to the ground and covered their ears. But even so Winddancer could see that this was no elf and therefore could not be this Almarëa person. "Ketchup, down!" she commanded the fellbeast, jumping off of it's back to go and take a look at who it was. "Oh it's you Frost! What the hell are you doing here?" Grinning she reached out and helped him up. "Say, there are talks of a thief being on the loose, do you know anything about that? I mean well, I know it is Mordor, don't give me that look. Yes yes, I know pretty much everyone is a thief, but this one can get me a bounty!"

Frost had given him a lead at the beginning, and then disappeared. Where could Ducky find him to report back and garner any new information? The Morannon? That was now a long walk, again. It was a good thing Ducky had some rum to get him through the journey. Time vanished when there was alcohol involved. And so did the memories, the painful memories...

Ducky wondered if he would need Írimë’s Wine Stash before all this was over...