The door swung open, there were fights going on, sure enough, but most of the eyes were on the large man who had just walked in the door; and for good reason. It was a very large man, big frame with heavy muscles, he had a strong face and brown hair not quite as dark as his eyes. But that was not what drew the most attention. The man had a large, flanged six-bladed battle mace strapped to his left hip, a crossbow and full complement of barbed bolts at his left shoulder, and a shortsword strapped at the right shoulder. He wore black boots, pants and a black leather belt with the silver emblem of the Wardens for the buckle. A tan leather tunic was visible under a black cloak of which the hood was down. He was the overt image of threat, and there were few men in this pub with the guts enough to confront him. But, there were the fair amount of exceptions. None of them proved very big challenges to the very big man, but they were still exceptions nonetheless.
One pair of men even stopped fighting to look at him, their eyes wide. They mouthed something in almost uniform motions. But the man paid them no heed and, instead walked straight to the bartender.
"G'evening Mr. Brandstone, -uh- Warden, sir." the barkeep said as his hands froze on the glass he polished with a rag that looked as if it had never been washed before, and could have never been a color other than brown.
"Please Tom, we've been over this. It's Chase." said the man in a deep, rumbling voice that resonated in the air. Strictly speaking, his name was Dell; Dell Brandstone, but nobody dared call him by his full name if they wanted to keep their insides on the inside. Being with the reputation and appearence that he bore, Chase was fairly skilled at intimidation, and that was what he had come for.
"Yes sir Mr. -Chase- Sir." he stammered again.
Chase rolled his eyes and changed the subject.
"You know why I'm here Tom. Why don't you tell me where the man with information on the pyromaniac bastard is?" Chase's voice had dropped to a whisper.
Tom nodded as he spoke and then tilted his head at a table, rolling his eyes in that general direction. Chase looked him in the eyes for a moment and nodded before stepping towards the table in the corner.

His footfall was heavy, and in the silent atmosphere, they sounded so much louder. Like a clock ticking down somebodies last few minutes. The sands of time for somebody were running low. Chase was very skilled with unarmed combat as well as his armed combat and so he did not draw a weapon. When he reached the table, Chase lifted the man sitting there staring at him out of his chair by the scruff of his neck.
"Come with me." he said in a low growl. As if the man had a choice?
Chase dragged him along the rough floorboard, to a door leading to the back room. Kicking the door open at the handle, he threw the man into the room and stepped in himself, kicking the door closed as he went. The silence in the room was heavy and oppressive as Chase and his victim were alone in the room. with every gathering second, the tension was getting more palpable. Then, a sudden cracking sound was heard from beyond the doorway, followed by a loud scream. Chase shouted something and then the man was screaming something else, his voice still in agony. The door swung inward again and the smaller man was flung into the room, his wrist and hand of his left arm obviously shattered.
"Pay the man for the door." Chase ordered, his face still bleak. When the man reached in his pocket with his right arm, Chase told him to add something extra for his troubles.
The big mans eyes stole slowly about the room. Searching.

Lómëdor was a nice enough place to be, but there were troubles. Typical, wherever Zandalor went, there were troubles and problems that he ended up dragging himself in. He didn't mind but for once he wanted some peace and quiet today and no evil. No such luck, Zandalor ended up walking past a town which had smoke rising from one of the buildings. The building itself was scorched by a raging fire that had ravaged and ruined all the nearby buildings as well. Zandalor rushed to heal those who had been burnt and those who had been shaken, and in the end he had found out that it was an arsonist who had set the building alight.

And that's who the traveller known as Zandalor got involved in all of this mess. He was now in Lómëdor, heading towards Drital Qu'ellar Pub, hoping that one of the tavern people would know what had happened. It was a common move to make, there were often many people who had heard things around the land that drank their troubles away. Entering the pub, the first thing that greeted Zandalor was the silence. Odd... very odd... it was never silent in this part of town.

Zandalor looked around, his sullen grey eyes taking in every detail. There were tables overturned and people with black-eyes. A fight? A bar-room brawl? So why had it all stopped? Something big and bad must have happened to stop a load of drunks kicking each other across the room. And then, something caught his eye... one of the doors to a room had a big boot-print upon it. Someone had kicked it down...

And then there was the scream. It was a scream of pure pain and agony. Zandalor looked in the direction of the scream and gripped his staff hard. A cracking sound errupted and then another scream of pain. There were two voices, a gruff voice and a weedy voice. The weedy voice was screaming something whilst the gruff voice was barking instructions of some sort.

Suddenly the door opened and a scrawny man was flung forward, his arm bent at an akward and unatural angle, broken almost in two. Then another man walked out of the room, a large man with muscles and various weapons assorted at his belt. He was wearing some sort of green garb, which indicated he was some sort of ranger. Who was this man? Why did he resort to torture to get his answers?

"And who are you sir, to resort to such measures?" Zandalor said, "I have never seen a ranger of the forest use such methods of interrogation before... who are you and what is your buisness? Explain yourself now!"

Around the room, there was silence... people awaiting the result and reply of the burly ranger. He was twice the size of Zandalor, but as always... Zandalor was not afraid... no, no dear sir, for this ranger may be skilled in sword and fisticuffs... but there were somethings that Zandalor could do that others could not. Gripping his staff, Zandalor swung it around and thumped it on the ground ready for whatever this ranger had.

Chase stood at the ready, set up to move out and pursue the arsonist he sought, when a gruff voice called him out.
"And who are you sir, to resort to such measures?" the voice called to him, "I have never seen a ranger of the forest use such methods of interrogation before; who are you and what is your buisness? Explain yourself now!"
Chase turned slowly, his eyes meeting with the speaker.
"And who are you to ask such questions? I have never seen and old man stand up to a warden and question is methods of interrogation, which are his own business between him and the questioned before." Chase countered. "Stranger still, is an ordinary old man in the vile underbelly of society, the crime ridden black hole of the Qu'ellar. You assume too much old man, and you go too far with thought that stops before your tongue." he added. Pausing and drawing a breath, he exhaled in a large sigh, his heavily muscled chest expanding.
"I have my reasons for doing as I did, and I may explain them to you, but if you try ordering me around again and we will have problems my good man."
Chase normally wore one of two expressions, one of feigned disinterest in pretty much anything, where his eyes stole slowly about the room, taking everything into account, and often giving people the seriously mistaken impression that he was not paying attention. And one that mde him look as if he were to slaughter alot of men in a very short while. He wore the second this day.
"Your motives are good my friend, but sometimes you act too rashly on your good nature. The man was a suspected accomplice to a murdering arsonist, I twisted a few fingers, so to speak, he gave me the information I needed." Chase shrugged. "Simple as that. As for why I did it, I am a warden, it is my job. I may be a ranger, as you said, but my job comes first and last."
Chase grinned a rather small grin.
"Would you wish to tag along, wizard?" he asked "Seeing as you find it so fit that justice be done, that is. Maybe you could 'keep me in line' so to speak." it was hard to discern if that was a threat, or an open invitation to something less bloody. (If only slightly.)

""And who are you to ask such questions? I have never seen and old man stand up to a warden and question is methods of interrogation, which are his own business between him and the questioned before." the stranger retorted, "Stranger still, is an ordinary old man in the vile underbelly of society, the crime ridden black hole of the Qu'ellar. You assume too much old man, and you go too far with thought that stops before your tongue.""

Zandalor neither smiled, nor did he scowl. But a fire did burn in his eyes as he spoke, a fire that was started a long time ago from.

"Oh I am old..." Zandalor spoke, his voice full of age and wisdom, "I have seen the birth and death of planets, the creation and end of life. I have been in wars that you know nothing about, I have seen things with my eyes that you would never believe possible. I am older than you, older than anyone in this room... and with age comes wisdom and power friend. So speak wisely before admitting the power that I have, for I know things that you do not and I know that torture my friend is the wrong way to go through things."

When the stranger attempted to threaten the wizard, Zandalor simply raised his eyebrows in a have-a-go expression. The wizard kept a tight grip on his staff just incase this stranger did decide to take his chance but needless to say, he didn't. That was good, it meant that the new pub windows just installed would remain for another day without being shattered.

"Your motives are good my friend, but sometimes you act too rashly on your good nature. The man was a suspected accomplice to a murdering arsonist, I twisted a few fingers, so to speak, he gave me the information I needed. Simple as that. As for why I did it, I am a warden, it is my job. I may be a ranger, as you said, but my job comes first and last."

An arsonist? Then Zandalor was on the right track then, the arsonist was close... or had been here before. But this man who had his arm broken would not talk to anyone anymore. Zandalor didn't try to use magic, it wouldn't be right. No, instead he simply looked at the man and spoke...

"If the arsonist you are looking for is the same as my target then we have a common goal, I will follow you. But no more broken bones... there are other ways of getting the truth and all of them don't involve breaking bones."

"Oh I am old..." the wizard said, most eyes of the pub on him now, rather than Chase's large frame.
"I have the birth and death of planets, the creation and end of life. I have been in wars that you know nothing about, I have seen things with my eyes that you would never believe possible. I am older than you, older than anyone in this room... and with age comes wisdom and power friend. So speak wisely before admitting the power that I have, for I know things that you do not and I know that torture my friend is the wrong way to go through things."
Chase lifted an eyebrow. Torture? He grinned.
The old man's voice did certainly carry age, and a certain wisdom that went beyond the rest of the crowded room.
"If the arsonist you are looking for is the same as my target then we have a common goal, I will follow you. But no more broken bones... there are other ways of getting the truth and all of them don't involve breaking bones."
Chase suddenly laughed.
"Oh, that. No-" he inhaled, his eyes darkening. "The bastard pulled a knife on me when I tried to get the answers, I should have killed him, but I needed answers, so I had to take measures to -er-, disarm him. Pardon the pun, it was the only phrase I could think of." The big man clarified.
"Usually my presence and my gear, not to mention the belt buckle-" he pointed to the silver Warden's emblem that was the buckle of his belt.
"-is enough to persuade the lowest. I won't lie, sometimes a few fingers must be twisted, but never usually to an extent such as this. I can generally intimidate the answers out of most." he gestured at the man he spoke of with a swift, though not overly hard kick in the ribs.
"But, I do believe we have a common goal, there pretty much being only one major arsonist in the city. Now he is another story. He gets no pass, and has forfeited the right to his life, once over for every person he has killed and once again for each life he has changed. Be as lethal as you want, and if anybody bothers you about that, tell 'em Chase told you to and that they would be answering to him if they go against it; but nobody ought to bother you. If you're ready." he paused, looking at the old man's eyes.
"By the way, friend, I don't believe I caught your name, or shall I just be calling you 'Wizard'?"

Owen sat in the far corner of the pub. His hood hiding his face in the shadows. He had a small glass of fine ale in front of him as he sipper it as he seemed focused at the Warden in the pub but he still showed no emotion as he seemed intent in finishing his drink. His eyes scanned now the old man who had a strange appearance. Of course looks could be deceiving. He finished his drink then dropped a few copper coins upon the table. He then made his way towards the warden. He moved with no emotion his hand resting on the hilt of his blade… ”Mayhaps I cam be of assistance Warden?” He asked softly his voice was full of mystery and held no emotion as if he was in a constant xen like state. His eyes never leaving the wardens. ”I specailise in the ways of tracking and catching known fugitives in an efficient way….” He added as he stood up straight.He then looked at the old man there was something strange. No! Mystical about him. He closed his eyes as he looked back to the warden in front of him. “Only one question though…. How much is the bounty on this man?” He asked as his eyes now wandered the pub. His hand slowly pulled back from the hilt as he rested both of his hands to the side. He then took in a deep breath as he looked back the old man. ”Hmm…” He said in deep thought as he awaited the reply of the Warden.

((Sorry for the short post I had to rush))

Caranrendis arrived slightly ahead of schedule and wondered who she would be working with. She had been given the basic information about the man and been told what she was to do but stories didn’t really tell you much. She knew that the man was an arsonist and a murderer but she was rather violent herself and had taken part in a number of murders over the year. She didn’t know why she had been sent to help him this time as everything she had heard said that he had always worked alone but she figured that she would find out soon enough.

Suddenly she caught sight of movement in the shadows between buildings. A tall man emerged and he was covered almost completely in black. She had not been so smart in her attire but then she hadn’t been given much of a choice. She worked with an elite group and if they wanted her to go somewhere wearing a specific outfit then she would do so. She was wearing a purple shirt and a black skirt but she had a fair amount of skin showing and would be much more likely to be noticed standing out on the street. Her mind was running through all the reasons that may have been possible for her to have been sent there and for her to be wearing the outfit she was wearing but nothing seemed to make sense.

The man finally came up beside her and said, “I don’t like to work with anyone but for this job I find that a little assistance is the only way that I can assure that I will escape with my life. I will not allow myself to be captured and I will not come back to save you if you are caught. If I learn someday that you betrayed me and gave anyone information about me then know that the pain you will feel will be greater then anything you can even imagine. As for your job, you are to go into the building and lay out a trail of oil to help the fire to burn. This building is not as flammable as many that I have taken out before and the people inside all must die.”

Caranrendis was rather angry at how the man was acting. She was a professional and the last thing she would ever do was give away information on anyone she had worked with. She also still didn’t understand why he would need her nor how she was to be able to do such a job and not have them be found out. She was good at sneaking through houses and seeming hidden but a party was taking place in the building and she expected that someone was bound to notice her. She glared up at him and said, “Don’t treat me like some amateur who doesn’t know the code. I’ll do the job and never pass on any information but I would like to know how it is you think I will be able to complete such a task with so many people indoors.”

“Well missy,” he replied, “You are to act as one of the serving wenches and as you walk about serving the alcohol you will be spilling the oil across the floor. It shouldn’t be too hard. By the way, what is your name, I may need it if you succeed and I need help again someday.”

She growled at him slightly and said, “Don’t call me missy. My name is Caranrendis and I will complete the job, all you need to worry about is completing your part. Also, if you get so much information about me I think it only fair that I know more about you. Maybe I’ll have a job someday that I may be able to pass on to you.”

In response he said, “You might not want to push it too far or I may have to cause you some pain ahead of time.” He pushed the hood back off his head and said, “You know the name I go by and no one gets my real name. What you know is all you will get to know and you’ll have to settle for that.” Caranrendis could see that he had dark hair and very dark eyes but she couldn’t get a definite color in the lighting. She also suspected that he had been caught in one of his own fires at some point in his life as she could see what looked like old burn marks across part of his face. He wasn’t a man who would be overlooked, she expected that anywhere he went people would at least take a look at him, though she doubted any had the courage to speak to him.

He gave her the rest of the directions for what she was to do and she headed off with the oil tucked under her skirt. When she got inside she realized why she had been given the outfit she wore, all of the serving wenches word the same outfit. She had entered through the kitchen that led out to the alley and the first thing she did was grab a tray with ale. She managed to shift the oil so that it would soak the rag in the bottle and slowly drip across the ground. She then headed about throughout the party and made sure to cover all the pertinent areas. She spent a good deal of time making sure that the doors were covered and left the main rooms with oil over a fair percentage of the ground. No one seemed to notice and after only a short time she slipped back out the kitchen door and into the alley.

As she began to move back out to the street she was to leave from she sensed someone coming up behind her. She didn’t have time to turn completely before a fist came down on her temple and she fell to the ground knocked out. She didn’t know it but the man she had sent to help had knocked her out and though he drug her to the opposite side of the alley where she wasn’t likely to get burnt he left her lying there. He had planned the whole thing out so that she would not be able to tag along until they were safe and once he had set the fire and made sure that the building was fully alight he took off into the night.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Next Day

Caranrendis woke with a massive headache and a grotesque smell filling her nose. She didn’t realize it but the smell was of burned flesh and the headache was from a hard knock on the head. She couldn’t remember anything that had happened the night before because it had all happened in her evil personality and while she slept her mind had slipped over to her good personality. This caused her a great deal of confusion because she didn’t know where she was and when she opened her eyes she didn’t understand what was going on.

She could see the burned out shell of a house and realized that she was covered in soot but that didn’t tell her what had happened. The pain in her head was making her dizzy and the smell in the air was making her naseous. She also had some pain in her leg where unknown to her a small amount of the fire had caught but she had been lucky in that water had been being dumped all over the area and some had gotten on her. All she knew for sure was that there had been a fire and she had been in the area but beyond that she was completely lost.

She forced herself to a sitting position and could see that many people seemed to be wondering about either in a daze or in a state of rage. When she was able to stand she tried to catch the nearest person’s attention but no one seemed ready to help her in any way. She stumbled along in search of someone who would be willing to tell her what had happened and who might be able to help her in some way.

Somehow she ended up outside the Drital Qu'ellar Pub and when she heard the commotion inside she pushed through the doors. She was beginning to find it hard to stand and when she had gotten into the pub her legs gave out causing her to slide to the ground against the wall next to the door. The world was a little hazy and she wasn’t sure what was going on but she hoped that someone would help her. She needed help and she needed answers but she didn’t know if anyone would help her and so she sat waiting and hoping.

She was still wearing the outfit from the night before but again this was something she didn’t realize. She also didn’t know that she had been a part of setting the fire or that a part of her knew what the lead arsonist looked like; if she had known any of that she wouldn’t have sat there where it seemed someone was ready to do anything necessary to get his own answers. As it was, she wanted to know what happened and wondered if she may be able to help in some way. She thought it possible that somewhere in her mind there may have been some information and if she was able to help in any way she was ready to do so.

((I hope what I’ve done is ok but if you want something changed I can make changes. My next post will likely be shorter as it won’t have two parts but I felt that I needed both parts to really place myself in the story.))

(Wonderful post, Cara!)

Before Chase could get the questions that he directed to the wizard answered, a man who looked every bit the mercenary strode up.
”Mayhaps I can be of assistance Warden?” He asked quietly. There was little discernable tone to the man's voice, but Chase didn't need to hear one anyway.
”I specailise in the ways of tracking and catching known fugitives in an efficient way.” Closing his eyes, he inhaled breath to say something else. “Only one question though; how much is the bounty on this man?” this time when he spoke however, his eyes stole about as Chase's sometimes did.
Chase's eyes still locked dead on to the eyes of the bounty hunter.
"You've got some guts." he said with a shrug.
"Not only are you volunteering to a job that has a good amount of potential to kill you, you come up to a Warden in this part of town, resting your hand on the hilt of a weapon, then you ask him, of all things, about how much money he would pay you if you helped him in a job of his." Chase stood silent for a moment, his own fingers drumming an ominous metronome on his mace handle.

A grin suddenly split his features.
"You'd make a fair Warden yourself; if you weren't so motivated by money that is, you've certainly got the gall for it." his tone changed to one as business-like as a man like Chase could make it. "If you joined with me, you would recieve what I saw fit to give you based on your services." the big man informed the bounty hunter.
"But I already know where to go for what I want, so I really wouldn't be enlisting your aid as a tracker. I can do that fair enough on my own. It might just be could to have some extra muscle, a different viewpoint, and an extra set of hands." Chase paused, stealing a glance at the wizard.
"Don't break too many peoples bones or spill too much blood in front of my old friend there, he's a bit aversed." Chase told the new man. Before his eyes could resume their regular scanning of the room, however, they fell across a very beautiful woman. The ranger's eyebrows raised up a fraction as his eyes fell upon hers.
"Pleasent evening, Ma'am." he nodded at her, she looked to be a bit dazed.
"Something I can do for you?" he inquired politely, it seemed as if he had nearly forgotten the old wizard. This was not the case, but it still appeared that way. Chase just figured that the wizard would speak when he was ready to speak, so he did not press the matter, and after the interuption, it might be a bit rude of him to barge in on Chase's new conversations.

Zandalor broke off from the warder, wondering where to go from here. In all this confusion, the arsonist would now have a head start in getting away. He could be miles from here, or he could be under their noses as they spoke. Zandalor ignored the noise all around him and closed his eyes, trying to think what to do next. He looked around at everyone and saw that some people were getting annoyed at the group being here... no secret there. The folks at the Drital Qu'ellar Pub didn't like good people, they only liked drunk who could drink their body weight in beer.

"By the way, friend, I don't believe I caught your name, or shall I just be calling you 'Wizard'?" asked the so called 'Warder'.

Zandalor looked at him again.

"People call me Zandalor, it's a good a name as any I suppose."

Zandalor then walked around upstairs and examined the rooms of the bar, since most of the occupants ran out of the room when the painful screams of a man getting his arm snapped in two filled the air. When he got to the fifth room however, Zandalor's nose spotted something most men wouldn't notice. A smell... a burnt smell. Odd. Zandalor took a deep sniff before walking towards the bed and taking off the sheet, only to find that the matress was completley burnt. It was as if someone had set fire to it.

Then Zandalor walked backwards and looked at the doorknob on the inside of the room, only to find it too was singed, as if something very hot had touched it. The evidence explained one thing, this man seemed to be able to set things on fire by touching them. His body had touched the matress and burnt it, so the man had covered it with a sheet. He had touched the doorknob and burnt it.

Did he mean to burn those things? Or was this person simply in possession of some fire-starting gift they couldn't control. How very odd. At least he had a prominent clue to work on. Zandalor exited the room, the first thing he heard was Chase's loud booming voice,

"Don't break too many peoples bones or spill too much blood in front of my old friend there, he's a bit aversed."

Zandalor walked over to the bar-keep, a stout fat man whose name-tag was covered in blood, spit and other liquids Zandalor didn't really want to know about. Amongst all the liquids however, was a name. Tom Baker.

"I want to know who was in that fifth room Mr. Baker," Zandalor asked.

Tom looked at a big book that was on his bar, filled with names and other pieces of information about people who had entered the bar.

"Some person calling themselves Akom T'Ber, I couldn't see their head... it was kept hidden by a cloak."

Zandalor placed a gold coin on the bar and got ready to leave the bar, a smile on his face. He had learnt all he could about this so called arsonist, more than torture could ever find out.

"So then Warden, if you want to learn how we can find this person quicker then you should come with me.", Zandalor piped to the Warden, "If you'd rather go gallavanting around pretending to know what you're doing whilst flirting with the young lady there then by all means..."

Caranrendis sat on the ground where she had slid down the wall and hoped that someone would help her. The pain in her head didn’t seem to want to lessen and the pain in her leg had gotten much worse as she had walked on it. The pain was making her dizzy and she could still smell the horrible smell that she had woken up to. She tried to focus on what was going on around her but the pounding in her head made that very difficult to do and so she only caught a small amount of what was going on around her.

She caught something about how someone would make a fair warden themselves and hearing this she felt a small amount of hope surge through her. She couldn’t seem to find the strength to get back to her feet on her own but she thought that the comment meant a warden was in the pub and if that was true then all she would need to do would be to get his attention and she thought that then she may get the help and answers that she needed. She wasn’t sure what she should do to get his attention as she could feel that the pub was not the best place to find help in general and she didn’t want to get the attention of all the other patrons but she thought that if he didn’t see her soon she would have to call out to him.

As she ran these thoughts through her head she missed a great deal of the conversation and just as she was about to speak up herself she heard the man she believed to be a warden say, “Pleasant evening, Ma’am.” She looked up to see that he had been talking to you and when he said, “Something I can do for you?” she prepared to speak but was cut off by another man.

She heard the other man say, “So then Warden, if you want to learn how we can find this person quicker then you should come with me. If you'd rather go gallavanting around pretending to know what you're doing whilst flirting with the young lady there then by all means...” Whenj he said this she got a bit flustered because it seemed that when someone was finally prepared to help her this other man was going to try to keep him from doing so.

She decided to ignore what the second man had said and respond to the first one anyways in hopes that he would also ignore the comment. Looking up at the man she believed to be a warden she said, “I’m not sure if you can help me or not but I hope you can.” Her voice came out raspy from the smoke inhalation and she was finding that talking made her throat begin to hurt.

She coughed slightly and continued by saying, “My head is pounding, my leg hurts badly, and I can’t remember anything from last night.” She again coughed before continuing, “I woke up in an alley and the building beside me was nothing more then a burned out shell. There was this smell,” her voice began to shake and got more raspy as she continued, “it was horrible and I’m still smelling it. I’m covered in what I believe to be soot and, and…” she stuttered, “I need to know what happened.”

She had to stop then because her throat was much too dry to continue speaking. A hacking cough was coming out of her mouth and she was beginning to have a hard time breathing. She forced herself to speak and said, “Water,” in a low and very raspy voice that she wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to understand. She couldn’t speak anymore and her energy was draining even more.

"People call me Zandalor, it's a good a name as any I suppose." the wizard responded to Chase's question before he began a scrupulous examination of the rest of the pub.
After getting a closer look at the girl by the door however, Chase seemingly ignored him. She was covered from head to foot in dark soot. Chase moved closer, the brackish scent of black powder flooded his sense of smell, mixing and overpowering the now dim, dismal and sometimes disgusting odor of the Drital.
Chase's eyes still showed no emotion as he surveyed her, his thoughts now completely drowning out the rest of the wizard's words while he put the pieces together. Her eyes were slightly pink, the smell of smoke and black powder surrounded her like a miasma, and she looked more exhausted than most people Chase usualy found in this particular bar, even after Tom dished out some of his strongest stuff.
“So then Warden, if you want to learn how we can find this person quicker then you should come with me. If you'd rather go gallavanting around pretending to know what you're doing whilst flirting with the young lady there then by all means...”
Then she spoke.
“I’m not sure if you can help me or not, but I hope you can.” she said, her voice carrying a certain tired rasp. That was the sign Chase was looking and waiting for. That was the sort of rasp one had after inhaling way too much smoke, soot and often liquids or powders used to start fires or blow things up. She seemed to ignore Zandalor's harsh words as she spoke to the Warden.
A small cough made the interlude between her plight and her tale.
“My head is pounding, my leg hurts badly, and I can’t remember anything from last night.” Another cough, “I woke up in an alley and the building beside me was nothing more then a burned out shell. There was this smell,” her voice took the tone of one that was about to cry uncontrollably, and the rasping got worse “it was horrible and I’m still smelling it. I’m covered in what I believe to be soot and, and…” the rasping made her voice trail off into silence, Chase already looked for Tom bu then the smallest of sounds, which never would have been heard in this bar, caught his ear. That was when Chase really got the picture. The bar was totally silent. All eyes and ears were on what was going on. A few of the people even left. That was why he heard the distant sounding cry for...
"Water."
"Tom, bring us a glass of water," he paused and frowned. "Make that clean water Tom, preferably cool if you have it." As Chase spoke, he rifled around in his pocket for whatever he had. He didn't have much on him, but he pulled some out anyway. He turned his head back to the girl on the floor. He stepped towards her, crouching down to her level.
"It's going to be fine, don't worry. You can call me Chase, I am a Warden of Lómëdor and I am here to help you." he paused a moment, and thought to lighten the mood. In a low voice so that Zandalor wouldn't hear, he added.
"-and so is that ancient pile of robes over there, despite the fact that he can act like a pumice stone sometimes." Mentally, Chase amended that to 'most of the time'.
Tom came over with the water in a ceramic cup of moderate size. Chase rose to his feet and took the cup, exchanging it for the money he had taken out of his pocket. Tom glanced down at his palm.
"Mr- Chase," he said, "You only ordered water, not a keg of whiskey." ordinarily, Chase knew Tom would've taken the money without complaint, but his apparent fear of the Warden brought out his honest side.
"It's alright Tom, I've given you some trouble tonight and I can not promise that there will be no more. Keep the extra for your troubles."
Tom grinned awkwardly, showing a few missing teeth.
"Thank you Mr. Brandstone!" he said, forgetting the preferential name as he scuffled back to the counter to count what he had just gained.

Chase extended the water out to the woman.
"Here you go." he said in a soft voice, meant to keep her calm.
"Well then, Zandalor." he said in a louder voice. "In my pretend knowledge in what I am doing, performing my so called job with feigned competence, I seem to have stumbled upon something here." he said in response to what the girl had said.
"In my outrageous flirtation with this young woman, I accidently discovered another victim of our arsonist, who might be able to give us some assistance."
Chase turned his head slightly to the side, his deep eyes glancing at the Wizard as best as they could given the angle. In a determined and much slower voice, Chase icily said.
"How, extraordinarily, lucky-" he paused and drew breath, his fingers resumed their metronome on his mace handle.
"-that I have bumbled my way into this situation; wouldn't you say?" as he spoke that last line, he cocked his right eyebrow in mock curiosity.