((OOC: This whole thread is really out of character for Rownan....oh well!))

Rownan knew, without a doubt, that he was thoroughly, completely and almost irrevocably drunk. The kind of drunk that only happens when a person has had either a very good or a very bad day. Or a day when relatives come to visit. Rownan strained his bleary eyes, tried to see where he had set down his mug of ale. "Heeeeey...." His voice sounded like that of a sweet virgin having bridal jitters. Rownan cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey! Where's me ale! Alllee c'mere! Ale! Sweet ale!" Rownan looked under his chair and nearly fell over. Nope, his ale was not under his chair. Frowning as much as his facial muscles would allow Rownan turned to the man next to him. "Ye horses buttum cheeks! What'd ye do with my ale, huh?" At least, that was what he had meant to say. Who knows how his words had slurred from his mind to his mouth... and then onto the floor like so much vomit. Rownan began looking for his ale in the pockets of the man next to him. Briefly, he wondered what he was doing here, in this dirty inn. Why would he be drinking cheap ale till he no longer remembered the name of the man next to him? And it was a very important name. Ede? Rownan shrugged. This person had probably stuffed his ale in his boots! Angered by the thought, Rownan tried to pull the boots off Ede's feet, in order to have a look inside. As he felt stinging blows landed on his head, he again wondered why he was here. Oh yes. The Orders. The orders from the Nar'blis...Nae'nlis....whatever....that had commanded us to wait here for orders. And who would wait from orders from the hand of the dark without taking a few drinks? There are just some things no man should have to face sober! With that comforting thought, Rownan continued to pull on the boot.

Ale. Edeleas could not understand how the other Dieb Cha, a couple of Aman Val, a Doon m'Taal and three merry N'Dores managed to convince him to go out and sit in a bar in the middle of their noisy company. He sat wedged between the three N'Dores who were now annoyingly drunk and (Light forbid!) singing their hearts out. Edeleas snorted in disgust as he struggled to keep his ale from slopping down his front, but he was failing miserably. His pants were already wet in a tight spot (he would NOT stand until it dried entirely), and still the N'Dores had their arms around him. They were singing a fool song that he could not put a title to, and they seemed to be enjoying it. Edeleas certainly wasn't - he felt as if he were on a ship being tossed out at a stormy sea instead of a bar, safe and sound on land.

"Shing with ush, Ede!" the redhead Aman Val shouted. "Come on, don't be a...a...a...a..." and there was a crash as he finally slid down onto the floor. Edeleas bit his lower lip as he tried to heave the N'Dores off him. But Shadow take him, they were unreasonably strong and heavy! He grunted and finally managed to pry and arm off him, and that still left the other two. Edeleas looked around for anything that might be of help until his gaze stopped on...wait. Was that Rownan? He felt a tug down his foot and Edeleas gaped in surprise to see that Rownan was trying to pull off his bloody boot!

"Stop that!" he yelled.

From somewhere in the dim, fuzzy regeions of his mind, Rownan heard the man yell at him. Yelling, yell, yell, yell. It seemed that's all that ever happened to him since he came to the Tower. People yelled at him from morning till night. 'Rowan, tuck in your shirt!' 'Rowan go play nice with the other kids.' 'Rowan, lighting people on fire in NOT an acceptable form of amusement!' Everybody all the time yelling about the silliest things. His mother had always set annoying things on fire. His father had probably set things on fire. Everyone, at one point or another, set something aflame. Why shouldn't he? Just because he chose people instead of objects, did that make him a monster? No! Some people HAD to be singed for the sake of humanity! Rownan nodded and continued to pull on the boot, although he could no longer remember exactly why he was doing so. "Must...pull...da boot....off!" He muttered giving a final tug. The leather sprung free of the appendage. Unfortunatly the give came unexpectedly and Rownan tipped backwards. He had three seconds of balance before gravity took over and he fell onto the floor, knocking someone else with him. "I gotten da boot! I gotten da boot!" Rownan yelled triumphantly.

Just then, there was a gust of cold air. Rownan looked up in time to see a tall man standing over him with a frown of disapproval. For one sickening moment, the man looked just like Rialt. Oh no wait! It's just the Nae'nlis. Nothing to worry about. Rownan choaked and then scrambled to his feet. That's right, he had orders to recieve! "Yea, sir?" Rownan fought to straighten his thick tongue.

"You are drunk you worthless piece of dung!" the Nae'blis said accusingly.

Rownan thought about that. "Yea I believe so, suh." Rownan tried to think of something that would appease the hand of the dark. "But I gotten da boot!"

"For that, I am not going to sober you. You are going to have to do this job drunk!"

"Ok!" Rownan said pleasently.

"Here are your orders...Edeleas, you particurlarly, should care about them." The Nae'blis smiled most unpleasently, but Rownan was too busy, looking for his ale, which had apparently disaappeared. Perhaps it's in the boot...

Edeleas glared at the Dedicated that was resolutely trying to pull of his boot. Rownan was drunk, and the way he was acting now did not heighten him in Edeleas' standards. The boy! And to think I respected him! Edeleas growled in his own head. He raised his leg so he could kick Rownan in the face and thus shoot him back to being sober, but the boy managed to pull his boot off! Shadow take him, it was good he was wearing a black sock! Sparks flew off Edeleas' dead eyes. If looks could kill, you'd be triple dead by now! He yelled in annoyance. "I gotten da boot! I gotten da boot!" Rownan yelled triumphantly. Edeleas made a mental note that he should alter the permissions and NEVER allow the boys to go roaming Tar Valon until they were well into Asha'man level. Rownan was apparently disgracing not only himself but also the Great Lord!

This horrible boy! Edeleas wanted to tear his hair in frustration. He had to use force now, and the N'Dores behind him still haven't let him go. He channeled Air and swatted them off his back. Bloody drunk goatkissers! he snarled. He returned his green eyes to Rownan.

"You are drunk you worthless piece of dung!" he said angrily.

Rownan thought about that. "Yea I believe so, suh." Rownan waved his boot. "But I gotten da boot!"

"For that, I am not going to sober you. You are going to have to do this job drunk!" Edeleas spat.

"Ok!" Rownan said pleasently.

"Here are your orders..." The Dreadlord smiled most unpleasently. "You...have...to...kill...the...M'Hael's...chicken."

ooc -- :huh:

((OOC: So what if this thread is completely bonkers? So what if it is totally out of character? We were bored. We needed something to do. :jitter: ))


Rownan waited patiently for his stomach to stop churning before replying to the words of the Nanny'less, the Needy'lips....whatever. Rownan grinned, though he was not sure why. Perhaps it was because the man Ede did nothing but frown. Yes. Weren't his teachers always saying there had to be a balance for everything? One frown for every smile? The world needed to do a better job balancing. It tipped ever so badly. Back and forth like a ship. Up and down and up and down....and a quarter to the right....and one turn to the left.....then back up and down again....

"Here are your orders. You...have...to...kill...the...M'Hael's...chicken."

Rownan tipped the boot he held over and shook it...just to be sure there was no ale hidden anywhere inside it. It took a few moments for what the man said to even sound wrong. "A cluck cluck? You want me to kill the M'heenie's cluck cluck?" Rownan felt tears pricking his eyes. "Wha'd the poor little cluck cluck ever do ta you, suh?" A sudden understanding found its way through his foggy brain. "Oooooh. Ye want me to kill The Chicken." Even his tongue, which felt as hard as a plank, could put the captial letters in the words. There were stories circulating through the tower that a mysterious fowl strutted through the corridors at night. "Yesssss. That chicken is a a creature of the light." Rownan slammed the boot down hard on the counter. "It must be stopped!"

"A cluck cluck? You want me to kill the M'heenie's cluck cluck?" Rownan felt tears pricking his eyes. "Wha'd the poor little cluck cluck ever do ta you, suh? Oooooh. Ye want me to kill The Chicken. Yesssss. That chicken is a a creature of the light." Rownan slammed the boot down hard on the counter. "It must be stopped!"

Edeleas rolled his eyes. The boy was horrificly drunk. Zekieal had no chickens, of course, that was absurd - but Edeleas did not like his Shadow students to behave in such a...a...degrading fashion. He sneered inwardly. Would Rownan actually survive attacking the M'Hael's office at this Lightforsaken hour? He wouldn't know until tomorrow. Besides, this was also a form of punishment now that he thought about it. Edeleas was working his way back to the Light, but as long as he was in the Shadow, he would uphold its rules for as long as he could just to stay alive.

"Yes." Edeleas said in a hushed voice. "Zekieal's chicken must be stopped." He straightened up and admitted that his boot was a lost cause. It would be another cold day in the Pit of Doom when the time came for his socks to be washed. He paused. What did Rownan say? "The Nar'blis has spoken. Go kill the M'Hael's chicken and roast him in oyster sauce and serve him to me."

"Yes, Zekieal's chicken must be stopped. The Nar'blis has spoken. Go kill the M'Hael's chicken and roast him in oyster sauce and serve him to me."

Rownan nodded firmly, his eyes intese. That cluck cluck...er...chicken was history. It just didn't know it yet. It's very hours were numbered. It would soon be pushing up daisies. Joining a chior of angels in the arms of the Light. "Yesss." Rownan rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This will be a piece of cake! I mean chicken, it will be a piece of chicken." Rownan blinked that had sounded so much smarter when he had thought it out in his head. Oh well. Something that Ede had said tickled at his mind. "Oyster sauce? Surely not! A chicken is best cooked in butter, basil and sherry wine! Oyster sauce is too robust for white meat!" Rownan patted Ede on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I will make it right. "

Rownan glanced wildly about. He knew the man Ede thought he was crazy. But How long had it been since Ede had been Dedicated? Ede did not live in fear of The Chicken, the Light bathed chcicken of Light. It strutted about the halls when the moon was full, looking to peck things that had no business being pecked. Many had tried to kill The Chicken, but none had succeeded. "There is a problem. A mighty problem that chicken is taver'speen. It doth bendeth the Pattern around it. How can I go against such power?"

"Yesss." Rownan rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This will be a piece of cake! I mean chicken, it will be a piece of chicken. Oyster sauce? Surely not! A chicken is best cooked in butter, basil and sherry wine! Oyster sauce is too robust for white meat!" Rownan patted Ede on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I will make it right. "

Edeleas shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. The boy was going to die soon if he did not get himself sobered. "Fine, whatever sauce you like. Kill the chicken without mess." He ordered. Rownan still did not let go of his shoulder.

"There is a problem. A mighty problem that chicken is taver'speen. It doth bendeth the Pattern around it. How can I go against such power?"

Taver...what? Edeleas blinked and looked at the Dedicated incredulously. Taver...ah. Taver'en. The Dreadlord scoffed and slapped away Rownan's hand. "The chicken is no...uh...taver'speen, Rownan, that much I can assure you. It has nothing special about itself except for a really large red comb that covers nearly half of its face and very nearly touches the floor." He said.

The N'Dores who were with the Dieb Cha started singing again. One of them walked forward and had an arm around both Rownan and Edeleas. The Dreadlord winced. Oh, if I could just balefire them all right now... he thought furiously.

Rownan felt himself begin to recover. The blurry edges around the world faded. There was still the incessant desire to giggle, but with a tramendous effort, Rownan supressed it. A sudden niggling sense of propriety, which for the past few hours, had abandoned him returned. Returned and told him that laughing in the Ninia'grits face may not be such a great idea. Hmmm. Rownan set down the boot he was holding, very carefully and tried to work out the problem in his mind.

Yes, The Chicken still had to die. There was nothing crazy about that. Nothing at all. "...nothing special about itself except for a really large red comb that covers nearly half of its face and very nearly touches the floor." Rownan stared at the man. I am sitting next to a madman. Everyone knows that The Chicken is tanning'spoon. Best not let him know that I know he's cracked. He might take it hard. Poor little madman.

"There is only one way to kill a chicken with that kind of power is to catch it unawares." Rownan pratically had to shout over the din of the singing men. Why wouldn't they shut up? Rownan calmly tossed a cup of ale, which had been sitting, perfectly balanced on top of his head for quite some time. Rownan frowned. Why in the world had he put it up there?

"There is only one way to kill a chicken with that kind of power is to catch it unawares." Rownan pratically had to shout over the din of the singing men. Why wouldn't they shut up? Rownan calmly tossed a cup of ale, which had been sitting, perfectly balanced on top of his head for quite some time. Rownan frowned. Why in the world had he put it up there?

Edeleas sighed deeply and stood up, finally managing to disentangle himself from the N'Dores who had forgotten all dignity, it seemed. He looked at Rownan hard - the boy had seemed to have regained some seriousness, but there was a little telltale sign from the pink on his cheeks. Edeleas peered at the Dedicated, who blinked oddly at him.

"I'm counting on you, boy, don't fail me." He said. "The...Nar'blis says so." So saying he turned on his heels and walked away, boots in hand. He was going to have a hard time washing his lightblasted socks, but hey, it was better than burning his eyes out from the paperwork. He needed a break, himself.