[color=ed1c24][h3]The Red Wizard[/h3][/color][hr]Hiding under a table, the red wizard was nursing his bottle of scotch while sweating profously, his eyes nervously darting back and forth. In retrospect, his earlier deduction might have led to the wrong conclusion; he wasn't sure now that he'd rather have taken his chances with old Natharghûl, soul sucking or not. This place was a madhouse, and a bad one at that (and he knew what he was talking about - he'd seen more than a few in his time). He'd tried conjuring a protective circle around him, but had so far only succeeded in creating a cute little ring of oddly colored mushrooms around him. The sight of them made his stomach rumble, but he controlled himself. He was hungry, sure, but he'd made it a rule never to eat anything magical. Especially not magical mushrooms, and [i]especially[/i] not if he was the one responsible for their unnatural existence.

Daring a peek from out of under the tablecloth, the red wizard immedietly wished he hadn't. There was a dead little raccoon lying there. Or, rather, there were two pieces of a dead little raccoon lying there. He ducked back inside his "panic room", breath coming quick, and gulped down more scotch. No. Nope. Don't think so. Although... he did feel some sympathy for the poor little pupper. It was just an animal. It didn't know anything about the big, scary world out there. An innocent. Hmm... Maybe he should do something about it. Maybe he would, at that. But not before finishing his scotch.

Yes. Great plan!