The Inn was still waking up and the day was beginning when a moaning heap shifted at a table far in the corner. Margaret felt like she had two heads, her normal one and one on the inside of it, much bigger and pushing out on her own head in all directions. The ale she could down with ease, but the liquors at the Inn she could have sworn were made out of divine tears.

Blinking her eyes as the morning light mercilessly assaulted them and sent a few more stabbing sensations through her skull, the witch winces as she raised her face from the table she passed out at last night. It would appear the drinking got out of hand again. Well, she did always believe the body shouldn’t go to the grave unused.

Patting her side to check her satchel was still there and intact, she ran a hand through her red mane and looked around. The people were still sparse, much like any serious work opportunity lately. It was what lead her to this place. She heard from a few other mercs one could live here in return for service alone, which was exactly what she needed for now.

Her wares sold here as well, many adventurers in need of a good healing salve or a magic dissolving charm coming through. However there was no thrill in it. She didn’t come here to turn into a merchant. But luck was not on her side so she had to find the cure for the boredom on the bottom of the glass. Even the quick glance over to the mission board confirmed her suspicion. It even got taken down for the frame to be repaired!

Margaret was itching to get out and bash some heads - right after soaking her own in a barrel of cold water - but the Gods just didn’t want her out there. Even her cards agreed. Last night she drawn them for herself, and ended up with ‘The Fool’, ‘The Magician’, and ‘Temperance’. Much to her dismay, over the time she noticed the combination of the fool and the magician usually indicated her self. And in this particular interpretation, she took Temperance for Boredom. Things were looking grim.