Misery Loves Company

When Glenn was done helping out the new stranger in the tavern Nathan gave him a firm nod of approval. "I liked that Glenn... This world is too cruel, kindness is always a fine sight to see." He looked over to Jason smiled that man, raising his glass. They were in this together after all...

The words sounded familiar.

"You feel it too, don't you? The emptiness. ...Like something's been taken from us, but you aren't sure what. Or am I just a madman, rambling nonsense?" he mumbled into the crackling flames.

So it wasn't just Nathan...

" Goddess below us, I need something stronger than this watered down piss to drink. " Cyndel hissed sharply reaching under her cloak into her belt poach producing a handful of coins that she dropped onto the tabletop. " Something Dwarven and bring the whole damned bottle, I'm in no mood to wait for refills tonight. "

And it wasn't just Cyndel.

Something had happened. They all lost something dear to them. Nathan found himself mindlessly fiddling with his right wrist. Something felt off. He pulled back the sleeve of his robe and found a tattoo he did not recall having before The Awakening. It was a tribal mark from one of the Northern clans, specifically one given to the mightiest warriors. Certainly not the kind of marking a spindly mage would be able to earn.

He sensed a familiarity with the marking. Yet he knew he had not had the tattoo before now. It gave him a bittersweet feeling in his heart. A memento of better times, perhaps?

It mattered not. He just wanted to drown the ache in his heart with as much alcohol as he could. He glanced to Cyndel and nodded approvingly of her demand before dropping some more coins from the mysterious coin purse and looked to the barkeep. "And a bottle of Dragon's Fire for me."

The glances Nathan was being given by some of the tougher men in the bar was clear evidence that his demand was that of a madman. Yet Nathan cared not. Tonight was a night he intended to forget.

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