[Lakeshore]

As Vire reforms out of the tornado, Modarmaskin pounces with a rope, aiming to hogtie and gag the halfling before he can figure out which way is up. He has to brush a fish off the halfling before he can do so, though. The big man is cursing as he works; water is dripping from his hat, and he barely avoided getting hit by a flying fish himself. "Constarn it, Vire, have you no control over that thing." Vire glowers. "You know I don't, Modar. Just get him trussed up fast."