[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] The Crossed Swords, Terra Firma.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] No one in particular [/indent][/center]

Growling.

It appeared the void was hungry though it filled him. The power of the emptiness coursing in the blood, attuned not the stars nor sun nor moon but to the inky void that the celestial spheres floated within. The cosmic nihility that swallowed existence itself, neither evil nor malign in itself of itself, but truly hungered to be fulfilled. As the purposefulness of empty vessel is in its potential to no longer be empty, so to is the sorcerer who serves as a conduit between the mundane and the arcane. Channeled through their very being, offering glimpses into what was, what is and what could be at any moment in reality should the arcane barriers not be put into place. The occulscience and metaphysics of these things difficult to penetrate as the nature of magic is to be an exception the rules such that it becomes a rule of exceptions. So did the force of the void threaten the thin veil that was Thomas's flesh from this world and utter destruction? Was it the ravenous beast which devoured entire galaxies whole that rumbled within his core?

Nope. He was hungry. Three hours of meditation to reflect on whatever it was, coupled with a slight buzz from the drink earlier (which explained Ziggy). And supposedly the room came with a meal, to which after a quick check of his personal effects, the Sorcerer boy crept back from his shared rooms to the barside tavern as best he could to avoid being entangled by the Trio. Funny, one would think that after a few hours apart and some reflection, Thomas would feel a little better about the whole nearly accidently kill Sana thing. But those two ladies reminded him of someone he'd rather stay away from in his past. More determined women who saw Thomas as a danger to the ones they loved. It wasn't really his fault now, it was almost as if he was cursed by the very sources that powered him. Unless of course they sought him back. A nod of acknowledgement should suffice if their eyes met his, and a sheepish hello, else Thomas would just saunter over to the bar to take his food.

There was Keystone, and Sana, and Kyra, Satilla, the Dwarf. With the 'Queensbury Rules' gent recounting a tale of epic revelry by the sounds of and looks of it. Attack at the chef's meal which looked pretty damn delicious to hungry eyes, and made Thomas wonder who they had in the kitchen that could out cook Keystone? Tankard in hand, jovially spinning yarn in his accent, before the ladies and the barkeep. Oh and the dwarf too, it was hard to not miss him given his stature.

[color=bedded]"Hrm, wonder where Ntaj and Cyne gone off to."[/color] Mid-spoonful of his meal, an actually pretty appetizing meal. Definitely not something he'd expected out of a small village inn supposedly plagued by undead. Something something Soylent Green. Hopefully the orcish ones didn't run off too, their rag-tag group was small enough already. Something something Orclent Green?