[h3][color=00a651][b][center]Malkus[/center][/b][/color][/h3] [Center][color=00a651][b]Location:[/b][/color] Road north of Salarn 
[color=00a651][b]Actions:[/b][/color] Wandering around[/center]

Malkus was in the middle of a battlefield. But this wasn’t a back-alley brawl or a slaughter. He could tell because unlike usual times, he is wearing armor. Intimidating but masterfully crafted leathers and chainmail, adorned with a helmet with wicked horns as sharp as scimitars. In his hands were two daggers which Malkus knew was crafted from the claws of a dragon. He was slicing through foes as if they were blades of grass, but even in his dream he knew he had overextended and was going to get overwhelmed. But then a warrior arrived with a greatsword, cleaving through the horde and giving Malkus room to retreat. The warrior was another half-orc like himself, yet the more Malkus looked at him, the more he noticed that the warrior was getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger, until eventually the warrior had become a giant, stomping through the battlefield and cutting swathes through the army. Malkus followed this giant, cutting down any survivors in his wake.

And then Malkus woke up. [color=00a651]”Hmph. Just 'nother fantasy I suppose.”[/color] Gren looked around his surroundings, immediately noticing that it was raining and he was cold. Deathly so even. His nap was interrupted when he felt his ass getting wet, and sure enough he was sitting in a puddle. Annoying. Weakly he stood up and tried to find a dry spot, but none of the tree’s had wide enough branches to provide any good cover. And bushes weren't’ known to ward off rain very well, so the best Gren could do was tighten the poncho around his body and look for somewhere else to sleep. He had to admit, while he was still very tired, he was just getting comfortable.

Looking down Malkus noticed he still had the flute in his hand. However when he tried to play it, all he could get was a measly few notes before he tired out. He was in no condition to play, so he just shoved the instrument into his waistband and continued onward. Not even attempting stealth Malkus began to whistle his aimless tune, though it was hard to hear it over the raindrops. He wondered if he could use his Sleeves of Many Garments to make himself a suit made of pillows. Once he was out of the rain he would give this a try. He began to shuffle down the road, looking gaunt and thin, like he was a zombie. He picked up his staff and used it to keep himself upright as he lazily looked around for safer shelter.