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North-farthing Moot (North-farthing Beast TP 1)

Tags: tomlin,  bulmo,  thasto,  lotho,  torebras,  paladin

Short Summary: The Thain calls an important meeting.
Date (real-life): 2011-09-01
Scene Location: Took smial, The Shire
Date (in-game): Winterfilth 28, 1453 S.R.
Time of Day: N/A
Weather: N/A
Logfile from Elendor.

Thasto enters the Tookish Great Hall, a large keg on each shoulder. He sets them down in the corner of the room near the scrumptious and vast buffet.

The hall is buzzing with activity. Hobbits of families from all parts of the Shire seems to be milling about the room, with some crowded around the buffet table. Serving-hobbits rush in and out from the swinging door, bringing out filled trays of food and drink, and taking back empty ones.

Paladin Took comes walking into the large room, his intricately-decorated cane tapping along as he moves. Smiling, he stops in the middle of the hall, and looks around at the goings-on.

Torebras Bywater has left his greatcoat and feathered hat in the entrance hall, but even without them he still cuts a fine figure in his smart satin breeches and velvet waistcoat with its silver buttons. The expatriate Breelander has a bemused look on his face as he steps into the Great Hall, clutching what at first glance appears to be a ragged piece of parchment. "Most ... interesting," he murmurs distractedly, trying to figure out whether this is honour or insult.

Lotho has arrived.

The ringing of a bell at the front door can be heard-- the Great Smials has a visitor.

The clinking and chattering and snapping of the Great Hall behind you, you pass through the Arches and into the whispery breeze of the Entrance Hall.
Great Smials: Entrance Hall
This is the well-appointed and neatly paneled entrance hall to the Great Smials. A defunct grandfather clock, clearly an antique stands proudly to the side of the hall with its richly-colored wood. The Took coat-of-arms is displayed grandly above the doorway, and a small glass table with rare bottles of brandy is displayed nearby. On your right is the stout door leading to the residence of Paladin Took, Thain of the Tooks and of the Shire, and his wife Eglantine, the Mistress of Great Smials. Directly ahead is a wide archway through which can be seen a vast hall. At your left side in the dark it looks like there is a tunnel leading off into a darker area.
Pile o' Mathoms
Obvious exits:
 Great Hall leads to Great Smials: Great Hall.
 Thain's Residence leads to Thain's Residence.
 Side Tunnel leads to Earthen Tunnel.
 Out leads to Meadow, Before Great Smials.
A sign has been posted by the pile of mathoms. It reads:
                "North-farthing Moot --- Great Hall ------->"                 

You +shout, "Do come in!"

Witch-king comes through the door.
Witch-king has arrived.

Leaving the airy Entrance Hall, you pass through the arches into the vast Great Hall, and wait a few seconds for your eyes to adjust.
Great Smials: Great Hall
This is an enormous hall (from a hobbits point of view, certainly) with several doors leading off it. There's a fire blazing merrily in a gigantic fireplace: its stone mantel is carved with the Took coat-of-arms. Before the fireplace stands a round wooden table with many armchairs set around it, and with a large candelabra set in its center. The room is distinctly dim, since the room has no windows. It is for this reason that candles are always lit here, despite the time of day. The hall is crowded with Tooks-- eating, drinking, and engaging in animated conversation. Through the swinging door in on the west wall, you can hear the sound of food being prepared.
Shire Ale Samples
North-farthing Moot Buffet
Barrel of Longbottom Leaf
Obvious exits:
 Archway leads to Great Smials: Library.
 Swinging Door leads to Great Smials: Kitchen.
 Drawing Room leads to Great Smials: Drawing Room.
 Old Took's Room leads to Old Took's Room.
 Entrance Hall leads to Great Smials: Entrance Hall.

The heat radiating from the fireplace warms you.

Witch-king walks into the room from beneath the arches.
Witch-king has arrived.

You see nothing special.

Standing at nearly two and a half feet tall, Witman is short, even among hobbits. Thick, chestnut curls frame his pudgy, slightly red face; a light peppering of grey above the ears shows his age. The hobbit's clothes are clean, but slightly faded, and well-worn - both knees of his chocolate-brown trousers have been patched at some point. A pair of hairy ankles - leading to even hairier feet - are visible below. A white shirt covers his portly frame, the sleeves usually rolled up to the elbows, while an olive-green waistcoat struggles to stretch over the top of it. The waistcoat is missing one of its brass buttons, but the remaining three are neatly polished.

This hobbit is, at first glance, little different from most of his kind. Of average height and build, his homely face is round and rosy-cheeked, his girth is ... well, he's as fond of his food as any. However, there's a certain lift to his chin that gives him an air of confidence, and his nut-brown eyes have a tendency to grow distant every now and then - the look of a Thinker.

He is dressed quite the dandy. Over a snowy white linen shirt with starched collar and cuffs he wears a bottle-green velvet waistcoat, its polished silver buttons engraved with acorns; a complementary design of oak leaves adorns the large silver belt buckle around his prominent middle. The cocked hat that sits atop his glossy chestnut curls is decorated with a pheasant's feather. In a nod to practicality, he wears sensible black breeches.

Thasto Proudfoot is about average for a Hobbit. He's roughly two-and-five-sixths feet tall, and slightly rotund 'round the middle. His head is topped with thick, curly, sandy-coloured hair, and his bright blue eyes are surrounded with scores of laugh lines. Thasto's cheeks are bright red and full of life.

He is wearing a black-and-blue linen shirt, buttoned all the way up with dulled pewter buttons. On top of this is an darker blue waistcoat with green trim with brass buttons up the center and over the pockets.

His brown woolen trousers are cuffed just above his ankles. A darker brown belt of heavy leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a pouch or two.

The dark brown fur on his feet is well-maintained and impeccably groomed.


    A relatively tall hobbit who has lived many decades, judging by his appearance. Thick, curly hair of various shades of white and gray cover his head, and hair of a similar color and consistency grows from the top of his feet. His eyes, although the skin droops slightly around them, seem to be quite sharp somehow, as if a pool of experience or intelligence, lies beneath them. His nose is somewhat thin, with nostrils which seem to be naturally flared outwards, but not to any extreme. His ears appear to be slightly larger than they probably were in years past. He carries a respectable weight, but could probably do to put on more. All-in-all, he appears to project an aura of confidence, and perhaps even the slightest bit of pride.
     He wears a bright-yellow waistcoat, made of silk, with interesting designs embroidered in a regular pattern across the article's entirety: The embroidery depicts, presumably, the Took family crest, which may deserve closer +inspection. They are all done in a dark-red thread. White buttons, perhaps crafted out of some type of bone, run down the center, and also upon each pocket.
     A small, gold chain dangles from one of the front pockets of his waistcoat. The other end disappears through a small hole, made in line with the buttons, inside the waistcoat.
     On the lower half of his body, this hobbit wears a pair of thick trousers which are designed with both green and brown threads. They seem to dangle around his legs loosely, yet the whole thing fits quite well--it was likely custom-fitted.
     In his hand, a sturdy, elegently-decorated cane is held. Symbols representing Tooks, their daily life, and history, adorn the oaken object. The handle, which broadens and curves inward a bit, seems to be coated, or composed of silver. The end of the cane is tipped with a shiny metal, as well.
|Paladin is looking at you.|

North-farthing Moot Buffet
A buffet spread with all sorts of seasonal delights, the tables garnished with autumnal-leaf decorations. Chief among the treats are...

Among these delights are:
Asparagus                             Bacon                                 
Beans                                 Blueberry pie                         
Bread                                 Chicken legs                          
Fried mushrooms                       Ham                                   
Lambchops                             Mushroom pie                          
Mushroom salad                        Mushroom soup                         
Mushrooms                             Pound cake                            
Prunes                                Pudding                               
Roast beef                            Roasted chicken breast                
Scones                                Seedcake                              

<OOC> Type 'serve <food name>' to serve yourself.

Torebras looks over the fabulous buffet.

Lotho has someone buttoned in a corner, waving and gesticulating.

<OOC> Witman excuses himself to help a newbie.
Witman decides to head for the Shire OOC Room and disappears before your very eyes.
Witman has left.

Paladin looks over at both Torebras and Thasto as they enter. "Hello, Mr. Bywater!" he says with a warm smile. "I was not expecting you, but I am happy you have decided to come. Please, help yourself to the buffet--I think that most of the hobbits are sufficiently full, and ready to begin very soon. Hello, Mr. Proudfoot, a pleasure to see you again--especially with those barrels in tow! You could set them right over there by the buffet, if you'd like."

Thasto looks over the fabulous buffet.

"Wha-" Torebras looks up suddenly as a darting serving-lad with a plate of cakes skids to a halt in front of him, teetering to avoid collision. One of said articles slides off the edge of the tray, leaving a cream smear across the piece of parchment. "Dear, oh dear," Torebras mutters, looking round furtively to see if any of the Took high-ups have noticed. He tries to mop it with a handkerchief, then surreptitiously licks at his fingers.

The sound of Paladin's voice sets Torebras jumping. Hastily he thrusts both parchment and sticky fingers behind him and bows deeply. "A pleasure to meet you, Thain Took. Why, with serious business at hand it would have been an insult for me to stay away! My, my, your hospitality is excellent." From the eager look on his round face, those mushrooms are calling.

Right behind Thasto, and looking none-too-pleased at having had to follow the Proudfoot in, Bulmo Bolger also arrives; the smells of the buffet soon bringing a smile to chase away any disgruntlement. Closing his eyes for a moment na dpatting his stomach gently, this jowly hobbit then finds Paladin TOok with his eyes, and nods his head in greeting.

Thasto pours himself a mug from the keg. 'Way ahead of you, Master Took.' He says. Thasto gives the buffet a once over, then does it again. 'The tables' are never bare at in the Took Estate.' He slides a pair of seed cakes onto a fine porcelan plate.
"..pay you!" Lotho's frustrated voice rises above the crowd briefly, but the hobbit he was talking to makes a swift getaway, leaving the fatter fellow standing and scowling after him, hands on his hips. After a moment, he heads towards the tables himself, still frowning.

Paladin smiles, standing near the entryway as more hobbits arrive. "Please, call me Paladin," he says to Torebras, trying to sneak a peek at the parchment before it goes behind the back. He hems, "Anyhow, you're quite welcome, as always." He notices Bulmo enter and bows politely, "Hello, thank you for coming--the buffet's over there, but hurry if you don't mind--we should get things underway soon." He makes his way in toward the buffet, and loads several seedcakes onto a plate, taking it over to a long table that has been set-up nearby. He sits down at the head, heaving a great sigh as he lowers his aging body into the chair. Suddenly, his eyes dart upward at the sound of Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

Torebras wastes no time in 'getting things underway' as their host puts it, by setting about the business of filling his plate like any decent hobbit (the cake-smeared parchment is tucked hastily into a pocket). When he looks up, who should catch his eye but the frowning Lotho. "Try shome of these mushrooms, 'ey're exshellent," he mumbles with a full mouth, holding out a three-quarters empty plate.

Paladin browses the names and comments in the guestbook.

Thasto sets his own plate down at the nearest convienient and proper seat follwed by his mug, but only after a quick swig. 'Here here. There is much to discuss.'

Nodding as he pats himself down, Bulmo eyes the buffet eagerly, but also catches sight once more of Thasto. "I'll let Mr Sackville-Baggins go first, I do believe," he mutters to himself, but loud enough to catch. "After all, don't want to step on any Proud toes, I'm sure."

Whatever Paladin has to say, Lotho ignores it, slowly and methodically piling himself a plate full of food. The mushrooms prove unable to do more than lighten his scowl, but he gives Torebras an ungracious nod, taking as many as he can hold in one hand and balancing them on top of his plate. He eyes it critically, then sets it on the corner of the table and starts on a second. He hears his name, swiveling his head towards Bulmo.

Now with a buffer between him and the Proudfoot, Bulmo too peruses the buffet, and starts filling a plate's worth.

Witch-king looks over the fabulous buffet.
Witch-king serves himself some ham.

Torebras serves himself some mushrooms.

Paladin nods, "Indeed, Thasto--" but his voice is barely audible from where he sits at the head of the table. He looks around at the crowd of Shire-folk, and, clearing his throat, taps his plate loudly with a butter knife. "Indeed," he begins again, as much of the noise winds down, and several people find seats. "Mr. Proudfoot is correct--there is much to discuss, and I was hoping we could start with you, Thasto, as you are from the northern region of the Shire, and may know a few things about the--incidents that have been taking place." He stands up slowly, and nods, "But first, I would like to thank you all for coming on such short-notice! One of the finest qualities of a Shire-hobbit," he pauses, smiling at Torebras, "indeed, of ALL hobbits, is our desire for peace and comfort. Yes, Brandebras Took, the "Bullroarer," knew of that quality, so long ago, when he, and his companions, put an end to other trouble in the North. I am confident we can take his example, and do the same today!" He takes a deep breath, and sits down again. "If everybody is ready, let's get started, then!"

"Good spread," Lotho says to Bulmo, letting Paladin's words wash across him unheeded.
Torebras swallows a mushroom with a loud gulp as Paladin's gaze settles on him, then starts coughing. He turns red in the face as he tries to keep it quiet.

Standing, Thasto removes the napkin from his lap and places it on the table. 'Right, right.' Thasto says, putting on his public speaking voice. 'A-hrm. As I'm sure many of you have heard by now, there has been something terrorizing the folk of the North Farthing. Farmers' crops have been uprooted and their stores raided. Sheperds losing the occassional lamb or ewe, only to have its remains pop up rather uncleanly a day or two later. Lately, the Bounders have been busy with issues in other parts of the Shire, so the people of the North Farthing have had to try and investigate the issue on their own.'

     He takes a quick swig to refresh before he continuing. 'Contrary to what many might believe, I do not feel it is a "monster." There are tracks easy enough to follow, and it doesn't look made from a something bigger than large dog.'
Several whispers go up amongst the crowd at the word 'monster.'

In the meanwhile, Bulmo seems just as keen to ignore Thasto as Lotho is to ignore Paladin, and so with a pointed sniff he nods. "The ham is a little tough, mind, for my tastes," says he to the son of Lobelia.

Torebras manages to calm his cough, by dint of the glass of wine passed to him by a concerned onlooker (I mean, if they don't shut that daft Outsider out, noone will ever hear anything good!). At the word 'monster' he pales, and takes another sip of wine to fortify himself.
One hobbit, a curly-haired lass in her tweens, bounces on her toes and then puts her hand up. "Mister Proudfoot? Mister Proudfoot? Dogs don't eat crops!"

Thasto waves his hand back and forth. 'Oh nonono. It's about the /size/ of a large dog. Not to say that /is/ one yet.'

Paladin grimaces at the grim report, though his glance wanders over toward those still talking at the buffet table. "Yes, unfortunately, the Bounders are fewer than they once were, and there are few in the North-farthing willing or able to investigate the matter, without assistance." He takes a sip from a wine-glass, and leans back in his chair. "Tell us, Mr. Proudfoot--if it isn't a monster, as so many rumors are saying, then what is it? What do the Proudfoots believe?" He taps his chin thoughtfully, "And, what parts of the North-farthing are affected? Has any such incident happened in your own village, Oatbarton?"

'Outside of Oatbarton, there isn't much in the way of towns, then, Master Took.' Thasto says. 'Mostly whatever it is has been raiding the farms North of Oatbarton. Could be a bear, then again it could be a hungry badger what's on the loose.'

The comes an anxious knock upon the open door at this point, and with his mouth full of ham (despite its rumoured toughness) Bulmo peers over at the newest arirval. A timid-looking hobbit is this, who wrings the hem of his shirt nervously as he inches in. "Hallo, my boy," greets the Bolger following a swallow. "And who might you be?"

"T-tomlin Halfhedge, sir," replies the anxious fellow, and his eyes sweep the grand room. "I was told to come and see Master Took, again..."

A bear? Shocked gasps echo round the room. Some adventurous Took youngsters have worked their way in, despite the fact they really shouldn't be here, and when the knock at the door comes the youngest, a girl, dives behind the buffet table screaming, "Save us! Save us!"
Torebras meanwhile, is looking quite alarmed at the tale. "Only the Proudfoots, hmm?" he murmurs, casting a practised eye over the rest of the group. "I wonder ..."

"Bear, pah," says Lotho. "Hasn't been no bears in the Shire since... since... He probably saw a badger." He stuffs a mushroom into his mouth.

"A bear!" exclaims Paladin. "I have heard many stories of bear sightings, just beyond the Bounds, but rarely on the Inside." The childish scream doesn't seem to bother him, as it was probably expected, but he pauses when the newcomer arrives. "Ah," he says from across the Hall, "Please, come in lad--this is Mr. Tomlin Halfhedge, from across The Water, and he has a story of his own to tell, which might be of interest to us. But first," he gestures toward Torebras, "what do you think, Master Torebras? Do the Bree-folk have many encounters with bears? Have there been any similar disappearances there?"

While Bulmo goes on chewing, his hand slipping to refill his late subtly, young Mr. Halfhedge shuffles forward self-consciously, holding his peace until asked to speak.

<OOC> Witch-king says, "plate*"

Torebras looks quite startled at the attention. "I don't believe I recall any bears around Bree," he says carefully, addressing his speech to PAladin but pitching it loud enough that all may hear. "There was talk of wolves once - but generally incidents such as you describe were found to have a rather more unpleasant source." He lowers his voice, then murmurs dramatically, "Trolls." After having paused long enough for that to sink in, he adds, glancing at Thasto, "I would be interested to hear if families other than the Proudfeet have been affected by these odd happenings?"

A mixture of chuckles, gasps, and grave murmurings erupt among some of the present Tooks.

Paladin nods his head, and looks around. "Well, yes, it seems that not many here have had experiences with bears. I think it is safe to say that they generally stay out of the Four Farthings, or at least aren't interested in our domesticated animals. But," he looks over at Torebras, his face noticably paler. "Before I encountered Mr. Halfhedge, I would have dismissed your idea about trolls right away--but go on, lad," he says to Tomlin, "Tell us what you saw."

"Trolls." Lotho's voice is dismissive and scornful. "Such nonsense." Fastidiously, he chews, swallows and wipes his mouth with his napkin - and darts his eyes towards Tomlin.

Thasto sits back down and begins munching on his seed cakes while Tomlin answers before he replies to Torebras.

As the eyes turn to him, Tomlin seems suddenly paralyzed among so many important and well-respected personages, and wrings his shirt all the more. But, at length, colour comes to his cheeks, and the young gentlehobbit relays: "Begging your pardons, sirs, but I come from across the River, and, it might be that not just the Northfarthing is at risk."

He swallows deeply, ere he adds: "Y'see, the Great Road that runs to Bree passes by my family's hole, and, we foten go checking on the passerbys and whatnot, to catch a bit of news. You know how it is. But, just a week or two past... we found something horrid instead!"

He shudders, and shivers, before Tomlin pulls himself together to finish: "There was an empty cart, just adandoned, and a big, nasty club lying by the road with a big spike through it! I tell you, I half wndered there and then if a monster had been around too!"

Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.

Paladin adds, "I assumed it was a broken fence-post, the way he described it, but Mr. Halfhedge assures me it wasn't!"

Tomlin shakes his head vigorously. "I've seen my share of posts, Master Took, and this were meaner by far!"
At Tomlin's tale Torebras pales, swiping a none-too-clean napkin across his forehead and then - oddly - beginning to pat his pockets. "Wh-what size of club?" The wine is gone, but perhaps a seedcake will keep up his strength. He grabs, munches.

Several hobbits turn from Torebras to gaze anxiously back at Tomlin.

Thasto hrms. 'That would be troubling news, but why would a monster leave its club behind. Wouldn't it need it again?' He takes another pull at his porter. 'Now, to answer Master Bywater, Ol' Farmer Digger has lost three sheep this year, and the Bunces from just South of the Greenfields had their grainhouse broken into. I'm sure there are others, but we don't see many of the Hobbits living further North until after the harvest.

Paladin takes a large bite of a seedcake as the others speak, spilling seeds on his lap, and the plate in front of him. He pops the rest in his mouth, and polishes it off, still retaining a serious look on his face. Picking up a napkin, he brushes off his hands, and drops it over his thigh. Leaning forward, the Thain taps the table in thought, and shakes his head.

"Perhaps Thasto and Pim--" he stops himself, and blushes, looking over at Lotho. "Excuse me. Perhaps Mr. Sackville-Baggins is correct. I've never heard of trolls outside of fairy stories and tall tales. If you'll pardon me, Mr. Halfhedge, we cannot assume that what you saw on that strange road was anything crafted by a, er, troll. You say these beasts have been seen--in Bree, Mr. Torebras?

Lotho turns a decidedly dubious expression towards Torebras. 'Outsiders', his face seems to say. 'Not to be trusted.'

<OOC> Lotho didn't say that outloud, in case anyone isn't sure.

As the conversation moves along, the self-conscious Mr Halfhedge falls quiet and wrings his short anew as he watches.

Torebras nods distractedly at Thasto - clearly this is not just some prank being played on the Proudfoots. "I see," he mumbles. "I had no /idea/ the problem was so widespread."

At the Thain's question he hurriedly swallows the rest of his seedcake. "Bree has dealt with a several troll incursions, yes. Extremely unpleasant. Bad for business. Of course, we soon dealt with them in my day." He fails to elaborate on quite how, instead asking in a near-whisper, "Mister Halfedge - the /size/ of the .. ah, weapon, please?"

"Oh," says Tomlin, his face whitening anew. "It were longer than I am tall, that's for sure..."

As voices rise up all together, Paladin shakes his head, "Now, now. I don't know much about these 'trolls' of Bree. I am reluctant, but perhaps we should send a group to Bree to discuss that matter with their mayor. I don't believe such a thing what's causing trouble in the Shire--after all, Mr. Proudfoot has already said that he doesn't believe it to be a monster. Could it be wolves, Thasto? It is unlikely, but they have caused trouble in the north-Farthing before."

"Robbers, no doubt," is Lotho's contribution. "Thieving things away and blaming it all on monsters!"

Oddly, Torebras looks quite relieved at Tomlin's description of a gigantic weapon. The hand that had been fiddling with his waistcoat-pocket drops away - only to return, clutching convulsively, as Lotho's comment echoes.

At Paladin's words he says huffily, "Of course, it is for the Shirefolk to deal with such matters as they see fit. Should anyone at a later date wish my advice, I would be happy to give it." And with that he returns to the buffet, keeping an ear open for further developments.

Thasto shakes his head. 'Not sure. Doubt it's wolves though. Signs don't much look like wolves. My brother Todo an' I are going to put together a band now that the Season's over and we can get some free hands and eyes.' He takes a bite from the cake. 'Though, tracking is easy. If it's something that needs doing away with, however. . .' He trails off.

Paladin tilts his head toward Lotho, "Well, I've rarely heard of a robber in the Shire, let alone one that mutilates farm animals. It's unheard of. Besides, I have not heard any rumors of anything being stolen, though perhaps someone could correct me on that."

He watches Torebras walk to the buffet, and hems, "I didn't quite mean it that way, Mr. Bywater--I simply thought that the Bree-folk would want to know about trolls wandering the Road out there. Anyhow, Thasto had said that it was the size of a dog, or so I think he did. You are right, Mr. Proudfoot--we've got to do something, before fearful rumors are all that the Shire is talking about, but surely we can come up with a better way to stop whatever is happening."

<OOC> Thasto is going to have to head out for a while, folks. :^/
<OOC> Paladin says, "Thanks for the RP Thasto"
<OOC> Thasto writes up a quick end pose
<OOC> Witch-king rawrs and thanks for letting me join :)

Thasto says, "We'll go take a look and see if we can't track whatever it is now. A few extra eyes and feet would sure be welcome if anyone wanted to join the hunt. Maybe once we find out what it is, we can figure out a plan for dealing with it."

Thasto has disconnected.

"Well, tisn't any troll, nor any monster either," Lotho says obstinately. "Yes, yes, that's a good fellow," he tells Thasto. "Go and track it down. Then we'll know where we stand."

[Paladin] "Hold on, now, Mr. Proudfoot," he says with concern. "Are you sure that's wise? Perhaps we consider setting traps before anyone tries to approach it." He looks around the room, and suppressing a yawn, adds, "Perhaps we should stop, and take a few days to consider this. Then, we might gather again, and discuss the best way to go about this. Is there anybody else who would like to say anything on the matter?"

Frodo has connected.

Paladin nods, standing from his seat, "Very well. Let's agree to stay in the area, if you are all willing and able, and reconvene at a later time. Thank you all for your input, and please don't forget your mathoms on the way out--they're in the entry hall!" He smiles, "There are a lot of old things we simply don't have space to store any longer, so please, take them along!" He makes his way back to the buffet table.

[+SET] You go Out Of Character.

Though he said little, Bulmo's ears perk at the mention of mathoms, and with a lick of his fingers he is among the first to slip out the door in search fo such gifts.

And Tomlin? He stand among these important hobbits with a yet nervous expression, though as the meeting appears to have been concluded he too slips slowly towards the door; ever stepping forwardt to leave, and ever stepping back again to let another pass first. Finally, when he is one of the last, he exits.

End of the Log.

Date added: 2011-09-01 19:40:32    Hits: 156
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