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[H3]Nora[/H3]
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"Thomas," Nora said, catching the attention of the young serving boy that Vargas employed as she stroded through the hallways of the Faded Lantern. "Fetch a bucket...no two additional buckets of water. As cold as you can manage."

Nora steeled herself for the imiment confrontation she expected. She couldn't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction at the thought of teaching Y'Vanna yet another lesson. Y'Vanna was a talented enough theif when she was sober, which was seldom, and yet Nora had grown weary of her tirelless depravity. 

She put the buckets she  carried on the floor with a heavy thud. It would be a waste of water. Foolish were it not for the haste that Vargas and the situation demanded. With a deep sigh, Nora knocked on the door. She waited, frowned, and knocked again. The door creaked open with a slow gnash of wood and one of the establishments resident harlots stood in front of Nora, berfit of anything that could even generously be considered clothing. Nora frowned even more deeply and pushed past the woman without comment, sending the poor harlot stumpling backwards onto the floor.

The smell that assailed her nostrils as she stepped into the room, sent her hands moving in a quick warding motion. The fading whisps of burnt incense could not mask the odor of sweat and alcohol. A cloud of smoke still lingered, a lazy haze that mercifully shielded the young serving boy from the worst of the scene. Discarded bottles and knocked over pitchers seemed to decorate every inch of the room. With a quick flick of her eyes, Nora counted nine debauched revelers tossed across the room like spilled dust. Weighed down with water and vice.
Naked, they lay scattered across the room in a string of sweat covered skin and tousled hair. Nora did not need to use a great deal of her imagination to perceive what had passed in the long, dark hours of the night. The sight and smell that greeted her was enough.

She found Y'Vanna slumped in a corner of the room, dust still covering her nose, and three strangers wrapped around her. Nora clucked her tongue with great disapproval, shaking her head critically from side to side as she guided the serving boy carrying the buckets of water into the room. He had seen worse, much worse, she knew, but still it did not feel completely right to subject a youth to the worst of Y'Vanna's many and uncountable list of sins.

Maréngo lay dead to the world apart from Y'Vanna, a small blessing in Nora's view, snoring on a bed beneath and between two women. It was a small comfort to Nora that he was wearing nothing save a ridiculously large leather hat trimmed with an equally preposterous ostrich feather. A bottle of rum, no doubt empty, was clutched in his left hand and Nora felt certain that she could smell the rum that coursed through his blood from across the room.

Fanning the smoke out of her way as she continued to quietly walk through the room, the desert bandit noted with some concern the fur covered camelid, an alpaca as Vargas had once called it, that stood politely near the window, munching happily on a bowl of vegetables that had been strewn across the floor. Nora could not help but notice that the creature was disinterestedly wearing a most shameful collection of intimate garments around its neck. To her greater sorrow, having long regretted how she had unwilling acquired the knowledge, the Zherpanian could furthermore not help but note that some of the undergarments belonged to Y'Vanna.

Her patience finally reached an end and Nora pointed towards Y'Vanna, nodding to the the serving boy, "Please wake Miss Y'Vanna and her dear friends up, Thomas."

The serving boy shrugged, grinned, and then tossed a bucket of ice cold water over the three dreamers. In the same moment, Nora threw the drapes open with a flash of her hands, her voice firm as she spoke, "Wake up, water drinkers! Wake up drunkards. Out with all of you harlots. Away with you vile beggars. I have water enough to drown all of you and I will not wait to drench you like the rat, Y'Vanna."