Deja Vu

As the litch faded into nothing Nate lowered his staff and let the quickly lightening air fill his lungs. He felt weary. Yet there had been something familiar about that litch. Something he couldn't place but was there still like the maw in his soul. The cold air bit at his exposed skin still and he felt the need to return to the safety and comfort of the bed he'd been so rudely awakened from. However as he turned and saw the death and destruction that had been left in the wake of the attack he wasn't so sure if staying at this now desolate inn was a good idea.

He shrugged and looked to Glenn. "So I take it you have no clue what that thing was, and why it seemed to have a massive, throbbing, revenge-boner for you?"

Nate then set about helping those who had been injured in the fight with his magic. Out of combat he could spam the minor heal spell as the cooldown wasn't as long as it was in combat for obvious reasons. He ignored the cold and his icy bare feet in the mud. In his mind his comrades took precedence over his comfort. Helping them helped the wound in his soul somewhat. And his own added discomfort and general disregard for his own well being at the moment made him feel somewhat like a martyr. No, not a martyr. He corrected himself. He just felt the need to punish himself.

He didn't deserve the warmth. He deserved the pain. The discomfort. He worked to help heal the others in silence.

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