It's really too bad for the others in the party, that they weren't informed prior to taking on the rogue, about her ill-tempered, shaggy mount.  Had they been informed, they would likely have turned her away in favor of something less annoying, like a Kender with a caffeine and sugar addiction.  Or a gassy Orc.  However, as they had not been informed, they had been forced, for the past three days of travel, to put up with the grumbling, braying and spitting from Lydia's mount, as well as the rogue's occasional response to said bad behavior.  The Halfling often talked to the Brixashulty (http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/row_gallery/86666.jpg) as if it were perfectly capable of understanding her, and took its snarling or foot-stomping as actual responses to what she was saying.  In all other aspects, though, she seemed perfectly sane...for a rogue, anyhow.  And none of them had come up missing anything!<br/><br/>When they reached the manor, Lydia slid off Fennel, the Brixashulty, and tied him to a nearby bush, rolling her eyes at his disagreeable bleat.  "Oh hush.  It's not a thorny bush and the leaves aren't going to give you a rash, so quit complaining.  I only did that<em>once</em>and<em>I</em>was the one who had to give you the oatmeal baths and put the ointment on you."  She turns away and heads toward the house, peering up at it and squinting a bit, her head cocked slightly.<br/><br/>"I was expecting more animal print and...I dunno...maybe a grotto?"