Kheric was relieved that the guards took the young half-elf off of their hands.  They had other things to do and he didn't really want to be seen wandering aroudn town helping addicts.  Plus, they needed everyone in the squad focused on the issue at hand.  The tip about the River Rat was also useful.  At first he thought it was a reference to another ratman - or a reference to thier own.  But no, it was a tavern.

A tavern with a large and hungry half-orc doorman.  He wanted them to fetch river onions?!!  What sort of doorman asked for that?  He had no intention of becoming some fool's gopher . . . unless it would help the group.  

He took a half-step to the side - he wanted to be sure the orc could see him, but not make it seem as if he was putting himself forward.  "Come on guys.  Who ever heard of fetchin' onions?  I didn't come here to fetch nobody an onion.  I bet there are several other spots around here where we can score us some candy."  He took a step backwards and started to move away.  "Let that big guy's boss wonder why folks with cash are being sent away."  He grinned a bit showing his teeth.  "Lets see what else this night has to offer . . ."   

Catching on to Kheric's intent, Asoel watched the doorman discretely to see if the mention of candy brought any sort of reaction in the doorman. He couldn't help but think about how those who have been caught using tended to be common folk. A request to fetch onions would seem ridiculous and beneath an undercover officer, but for such common folk might be sseen as a simple and reasonable request. It may be an effort to test those who request the drug, and if so, Asoel would have no problem foraging for them if it meant getting a lead. After all, he grew up hunting and foraging for barter as a child. . .

((Asoel will do a sense motive check to see if this appears to be some sort of code or test. If the half-orc's other half is human, that's a +4. If it seems to be that, or even if Asoel is unsure, he'll spend the time on the mundane task unless some other lead comes up. +6 to survival, or +4 to profession herbalist to scrounge the onions, though I'd assume such a mundane task would allow taking 20.))

The half-orcs gaze hardens as the Dhampir flashes his sharp canines, and then bares his own jagged tusks,"Brug has sharp teeth too pale man, and Brug wants onions, not candy! You bring snack, I let you in, easy!"  With that he crosses his bulky arms across his chest and stands imposingly in your waym intent on keeping you from entering the tavern.  While the big brute may not seem like the brightest, and has a bad habit of referring to himself in the third-person it does not seem that the tactic of goading him into allowing your to pass is going to work.  Asoel's keen insight does not pick up any indication that the half-orc seeks anything other than a couple big, juicy, tear-inducing onions to munch on; as far as you're concerned the brute really is just hungry. ((19 sense motive roll, no signs of deception or misdirection of any sort))

Iaka sighed. He wasn't about to go dig onions tonight. Maybe this big dummy could yet be convinced.

Listen, Brug... we don't know where to dig for these onions... but I bet you do! Tell you what, we'll stand here and guard the door while you go get a little snack. How does that sound, buddy?

What bar owner let a bouncer demand his own personal payment before letting people in the front door?  Either Brug was an all-star bouncer or he was an idiot.  Looking at him, Kheric thought both might well be true.  He shook his head.  He didn't want to dig for onions.  There were sure to be other bars in this little town.  

But he did like Iaka's play . . .  He watched to see if the big guy would bite.  He'd known a kid back home who conned another kid into painting his fence for him.  Sometimes people really were that gullible.  If it had worked for Tom, maybe it would work for the ratman.  

Brug paused briefly, clearly thinking about Iaka's suggestion, "Mouse makes good point...Brug knows where to get onions much faster than you."  With a crack of his knuckles the brute walks off.  ((The bluff and diplomacy rolls came up in your favor, convincing the lunk to go get his own snack.))

With the mountain of muscles out of the way you are able to into the tavern.  The River Rat is a crowded, loud establishment.  The air is thick with the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat from the patrons who spent all day working out in the hot sun.  The bar is lower than one might expect, which is because the bartender (and owner) is a Ratfolk, his fur grey with age. 

He waves you over to the bar and greets you, "Welcome to The River Rat strangers, what can Rikkel get for ya?"

((Sorry for the delay, it's been hectic on my end, and then I had to overcome a bit of writer's block getting this posted.  Thank you again for your patience.))

Asoel steps up to the bar, reaching for his coin purse. He may not be the most diplomatic Elf, but he knows that bartenders speak best when paid. 

Would you happen to have any Elven wines? If not, a regular mead shall do. As he spoke, his eyes scanned the room, trying to notice anyone acting suspiciously or any sign that the inhabitants of the room would know anything of the magic candy. Before the bartender could reply, however, Asoel had a sudden inexplicable craving. Actually, this may seem like an odd request, but do you happen to have any Kobold liqours? 

((If anyone looks at him oddly at that request, which I assume they do, he'll reply with a shrug)) Always been a guilty pleasure of mine. My friends often joke that I used to be a Kobold in a past life. 

((As the bartender does his thing, Asoel will continue his examination of the room. Perception +10, Sense motive on the occupents +2 if non-human, +4 if human))

Kheric almost laughed out loud as the big half-orc left to fetch himself some onions.  He held it in so as to not offend the sensitve beast, but it was tempting.  Ol' Tom would have been proud.  

After Brug had left He complimented the ratman on his ploy.  "Nice job Asoel.  It seems he really wanted those onions."  As the rest of the group moved into the now open bar he thought about what had been promised.  "I'm going to wait here for the big guy.  Making a friend of this dives star bouncer might not be a bad idea, plus I can keep an eye on whoever is coming and going.  I doubt it will take the Brug long to find his onions, so I'll be in soon."  

He then leaned up against the wall of the bar and crossed his arms across his chest.  It was time to play doorman for a bit.  He didn't plan on actually stopping anyone from entering, but if anyone approached it should give him a chance to open some dialogue.  

Rikkel reached under the bar and pulled out a clay jug and a tin cup, "Rikkel has something for all tastes, inlcuding the odd long-ear that likes lizard liquor."  He unstops the jug and pours a glass before sliding it across the bar to Asoel.  "So what brings an out-of-towner like yourself all the way to The River Rat?  Your kind usually sticks to The Two Moons,  only the locals come this deep into the slums."

Kheric's time as doorman passes by uneventfully, boring even.  After twenty minutes of no one coming or going he begins to question at why The River Rat had a doorman if traffic was this slow.  Another ten minutes pass by and Brug comes stomping back from his trek across the river munching on an onion, smacking as he approaches.  "Hi Pale-man, Brug is back!"  He extends his hand out, offering a half-eaten onion to Kheric, the pungent odor of onion filling the dhampir's sensitive nostrils, "Pale-man want some?"

Asoel passed on his payment for the glass, then allowed the drink to sit in his mouth to capture the full flavor before swallowing it. It was much too course a taste than would have been appreciated by most of his elven friends, yet Asoel couldn't deny that enjoyed the way it burned in his throat. Smiling, and realizing that the sublter aspects of asking for delicate information may be better handled by those of smoother tongue than he, he contented himself by passing on payment for another glass and merely saying, "The Two Moons doesn't stock my favorite drink as you do. Besides, I may be a 'long ear', as you say, but I was not born in the Norwood. Your fine establishment reminds me of my original home." 

Asoel did have questions to ask, but though he was trained in the arts of physical stealth, he had to admit that his compatriots seemed far superior at suchs acts. Such deficiency annoyed Asoel, of course. He was never one who enjyed being worse at something. Yet the wise words of his people echoed in his head: hangga't makitid ang kumot, matutong mamaluktot (When the blanket is short, learn to how to bend). His vocal skills being his lacking blanket, he'd bend within what skills he did have and make do. Being careful to be descreet, he whispered into Iaka's ear, "I'll let you lead the discussion for now. I'm going to see what my eyes can discern."

Asoel scanned again through the faces of the customers of the establishment, trying his best to appear as if he was looking for an empty table for his comrades. In reality he searched for any sign of user or dealer of the candy. If no one was obvious enough to have a guilty appearance, then perhaps a secluded hall or door would be visible. You never know when establishments such as these lend themselves as locations for such dirty dealings. So, Asoel simply tried to soak in every detail of the place and see if anyting was amiss.

"Pale want some?"

Kheric had to admit that he really did not want some.  But he took it anyway.  "Thanks, Brug.  They smell strong and good."  he looked around for a moment and added, "Are your nights always this boring?  Absolutely nobody has even come this way in the time since you left.  Not much for a big guy like you to do around here."

Rikkel pours Asoel another glass before limping down the bar to refill another patron's glass.  Asoel's eyes having finally adjusted to the smoke and dim light of the bar, scans the other patrons with his keen eyes, trying to single out anyone that looks as though they had sinister motives or who may be seeking to unload drugs in their possession.  None of the patrons jumps out at him as being specifically suspicious, most seeming in fact to be common working folk enjoying a drink after an arduous day working out in the sun.  Around a corner behind the bar he spots a glimpse of a staircase that leads down into either a cellar or basement, and another staircase at the opposite end of the bar that leads up to an upstairs dining area that doesn't look entirely stable compared to the treetop homes and platforms of his adopted homeland within the Norwood.

Outside Kheric timidly bit into the small onion that Brug had brought him, the smell immediately causing his eyes to water as his sharp canines pierce the onion's outer layers.  Brug smiles, "Onion good, yes?" and replies to Kheric's comment about the lack of foot traffic, "Brug knows, waited long time for someone to come, did not think to go get onions for self.  Brug has onions now, so Brug go home.  Thank you Pale-man, and tell Mouse thank you too."  Brug then grasps the dhampir in a tight, back cracking hug, slaps him heartily on the back and trods off into the night.  It takes Kheric a couple seconds to realize that Brug was no doorman, only a hungry brute who hoped to find someone willing to get him a snack by standing in the way.

"'Night Brug.  And thanks for the onion."  Kheric winced a bit at the big orc-hug.  They had made a friend, which was good.  And a big one with lots of muscle, which was doubly good when he wasn't busy hugging you.  But who knew if he would ever see Brug again.  And he wasn't even a doorman, just a big brute-of-a-Brug waylaying people at the door because he couldn't figure out that he could fetch his own onions.  He silently mouthed a little, "wow" and turned and entered the tavern.

He saw the others up near the bar, but decided he would not join them immediately.  He headed towards the other end of the bar to order an ale.  He normally liked mead, but the events of earlier this evening had left the honey-flavored beverage distasteful.  He hoped his taste for the stuff had not been ruined forever.  

Once he had his beverage he turned and looked for an open seat.  He normally preferred a spot near the fire - and near other groups.  He looked for such  a spot and went to have a seat - a loner or traveler out for a drink.  He kept his ears open and looked for an opening to join in the conversation around him.  It was something he was normally quite good at.  He'd catch an annecdote and ask about it.  If nothing else, he'd play the role of a traveler and ask about work or food in the area.  Maybe road or river travel conditions.  It didn't take much.  Those with a pint in their hands usually welcomed a charismatic stranger into their midst.  

After tending to his other patrons, Kheric included, Rikkel limped back over to where Iaka and Asoel are seated by the bar, leans against the bar and doing his best to look the elf in the eyes states, "You'll find, long-ears, that around these parts you're more likely to get information if you talk for yourself, besides, it seems your friend isn't feeling chatty anyway."  Before Asoel can even try to object Rikkel continues, "Rikkel may be gray, and Rikkel's reflexes aren't what they once were, but Rikkel's ears are as sharp as ever!  So tell me long-ears, what is it you wanted your friend to speak to Rikkel about?"  Rikkel then reaches under the bar, retreiving the kobold liquor and pouring Asoel another glass, "Perhaps this will loosen your tongue up, eh long-ears?" and chuckles at himself, waiting to hear what Asoel has to say for himself.

Kheric, drink in hand wanders over to the cluster of tables near the fireplace, and after a moment found himself a spot near a group of what appeared to be millworkers in for a post-workday brew.  Over the din of the crowded little bar he was able to make out quite a bit of their conversation, with two workers' voices rising above the noise more easily than others.

Man 1: "Can you believe the nerve of Jirolin putting up those notices everywhere trying to get outsiders involved, he may as well be advertising that his men can't handle themselves and as far as I'm concerned, airing the town's dirty laundry just invites further chaos!"

Man 2: "I dunno Edgar, seems with the way this Candy is tearing through our town we can use all the help we can get, even if it is just people traveling through."

Edgar: "Jirolin knows damn well he could have recruited from within our population, no need getting outsiders involved in something we natives should be taking care of Wade!"

Wade: "Edgar if you feel so strongly about it then go take it up with Jirolin.  Personally I welcome the help, the workload has gotten out of hand lately anyway with so many of our coworkers not coming to work because they are out of their minds on this damned Candy."

Edgar: "I know what you mean, I don't know how much longer I can keep doing the work of 4 men before my back gives out completely.  If the damn Candy doesn't ruin our town the collapse of our economy when those of us still working can't carry on will."

It seems not everyone in the town is thrilled with the idea of inviting outside aid in dealing with the troubles plagueing their streets, but they seem to at least agree that something needs to be done about it.

Kheric listened to the men talk with interest.   They might not be happy about his role in things, but they didn’t like the candy in their town.  While they wouldn’t be a great source of information, they might have some, so he decided to poke his nose into their business. 

“Hey fellas.  I didn’t mean to listen in, but I couldn’t help hearing a bit of what you said.  I’m new in the area and this is probably the fifth or sixth time I’ve heard or seen the word ‘candy’ used around here.  What is this stuff?  Is it really crashing all your co-workers?  I’ve seen those notices you mentioned.  Hard to miss ‘em.” 

He didn’t really know what he was looking for, but that was what fishing was all about, you just took advantage of whatever bit the hook.  And sometimes you got nothing.