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Having followed the unlikely band of heroes over to the Sergeant's table, Bubbles now jumped up and down, trying to see this map thing, or even the top of the table. When jumping didn't work, he climbed on the back of his current Pink Flamingo mount and tried to see from there. He could now see over the table, but the contents of the map eluded him.

Slick and sweaty from the exertion, Bubbles slipped down off of his Pink Flamingo and leaned against it for a few seconds, regaining his breath. When he stood again on his own ability, his face was set in grim determination. It was time for The Rave.

The Rave was a dance long practiced by Bubbles and other easily frustrated people of the world. There was an art to it, a science, a craft. No two Raves were ever the same, and Bubbles knew his Rave better than most people knew the backs of their hands. It had a personality, and Bubbles had gotten to know it well over the last several years. He had courted it as one courts an ally, knowing the power inherent if he were to truly forge a master bond with his Rave. Slowly, they had circled each other for long years, analyzing each other for potential strengths and flaws, then testing each, bolstering each other through the symbiotic relationship. At this point, while there was still (minimal) room for improvement, the only thing that could be done was to fine tune different parts of the different roles played by the Raver and the Rave. It was a master dance, tailored perfectly to the tailor.

An immaculately white and toothy grin spread across Bubbles' face, and all the frustration that he had so recently expressed made a tactical retreat to his eyes, where, concentrated, it festered and boiled and belied the suddenly pleasant expression that found itself splayed across his features.

He raised his hands, and in his mind a strobe was flashing and lasers were playing on the walls and ceiling. He retracted all but his middle fingers, and in his Raver's eye they were perfect pink glow sticks. He began to wave them around as though he had ingested something illegal, and everything but his eyes giggled and laughed and danced and Raved. As he danced, the squeaks of his boots on the floor sounded like "Fuck you guys, fuck you guys, fuck you guys, fuck you guys" and so on, and the whooshes that his rapid middle fingers made as they ripped the air in their path seemed to whisper "I can't see anything, let me see, I can't see anything, let me see, I can't see anything, let me see."

It was frustrated. It was angry. It was creepy.

It was Rave.

The only indication on Maîtresse's face that she had heard what Seraphin of the Fiery Mountain had said was a slightly raised eyebrow. She walked towards Seraphin and stopped when her face was just a foot away from his face. In a calm, almost condescending tone she said:

"Mr. Seraphin I am many things and luckily for you one of those things is a patient woman. You will do well to remember your place when speaking to me. I am not some miscreant that you can command and talk to in such a manner. May this serve as a warning to you and our other traveling companions, if you or anyone else talks to me like that again I will introduce you the business end of my boot. However, I do agree with you Mr. Seraphin that we should be on our way. Since Sergeant Wang has entrusted you with the map I shall follow your lead. For now."

Maîtresse allowed a smile to cross her face, a smile that was more unsettling than reassuring. Maîtresse walked away and stood off to the side of the group and watched the one called Bubbles dance.

Royal decides that Pesmerga seems like a nice young chap, and scoots over to say hello.

Seraphin scoffs and thinks to himself "This woman has some bark to her. The bite remains to be seen, however."

After wandering over to look at the map, Cog blows on his cat whistle in an attempt to get the attention of his fellow mercenaries. Anyone who can hear high pitched things will hear it.
He would like to discuss where the party will go. If anyone pays him any attention he will suggest we go to the site of the robbery.

Additionally, Cog wonders where his delightful smell of cat-wee has gone, he makes a mental note to ask Royal about that can of his later

Inexplicably a light on Necromax's frame pops.
He wanders over to the map, scans it to his harddrive, prints a hard copy and feeds it to a nearby orphan child.
He whirs diligently, computing possible plans and their outcomes, whilst simultaneously trolling forums with ads for phentermine.

Pesmerga, for the first time since arriving, raises the brim of his jet-black bowler to reveal piercing green eyes. "Yes?" he asks Royal, cooly.

*Grin* Then lets get to walking, unless *eyeing the man reaking of ammonia up and down* you intend to ride cats? I know I didn't bring anything but my own two feet for travel and somethin' tells me none of you folk did neither. I'm content to follow the mages lead for now, seems like he's a better head on his shoulders then most of these.. gents. *smile wolf* Though some oh the others I'll gladly follow if only for the view. *readjust her pack to cross shoulder and walks on over to Seraphin and Maitresse* If the others are going to continue to gabble then they can just run to catch up, else less to split up the gep.

Mr Snuffleupagus wrote:Well are we ready to set off on our journey or not? I'm all set here.

Mr Snuffleupagus takes his lute and tuner out of his backpack, tunes his lute and begins to play an utterly distasteful tune.

Mr Snuffleupagus wrote:The quickest and safest route is clearly taking the road to Calava as the map suggests. So we should head off in a sou' sou' easterly direction. And now if you don't mind I will play a little something I wrote to help ease the journey.

Mr Snuffleupagus then starts singing along to his horrendous tune in a screeching and rasping voice:

'Womaniser, womaniser, womaniser, womaniser, oh ..."

For those unaware, Mr Snuffleupagus is cursed with a terrible sense of fashion and terrible taste in music.

Sahan wrote:

Mr Snuffleupagus wrote:'Womaniser, womaniser, womaniser, womaniser, oh ..."

In equally poor fashion, Cog joins in. Cats optional.

Cog wrote:you're a womanizer, oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer, baby

Manfried checks his travel bag, making sure that everything will hold on, determined as he is to follow what he found to be somewhat of a walking buffet.

Manfried More wrote:It looks easier than it seemed at first, especially since that dude, whatever his name was, left without a map.

And he grinned.

*Smiling over at Seraphin* So off we go then? Lets take this show on the road. I'm gettin' sick of just stayin' around all day with better things to be doin'.

You all lot coming or not?

*Starts to walk off in the appropriate direction.*

Seraphin nods and begins walking southeast.

Mr Snuffleupagus hooks himelf onto Seraphin with the aid of his hiking pole.

I'm going to be taking a nap now, so If you don't mind I'd like to be dragged along to our destination by someone please.

And with that, Mr Snuffleupagus snoozes off.