[center] [h1][color=green]Reggie The Rumbler[/color][/h1][/center]


  Reggie was really starting to become annoyed with this little elf that was leading their group. He would rather Timothy just kept his trap shut instead of constantly making promises about being "almost there". His bag was heavy as shit from all the mead and wine he packed in his bag. Reggie was a bit ashamed of this, but he had packed more alcohol than anything else. He had even foregone some more essential items just to make room for his precious booze. It made Reggie feel like a fool for being the alcoholic he was. But he couldn't risk being sober, he was afraid of it.

  Crows cried out overhead and from the treetops. Reggie never did like crows. His mother, or the woman he always knew as mother, had always warned him to avoid crows. She had gotten into his head with the superstition that crows were wicked fiends who foreshadowed evil. Her story was that crows were servants of Death herself. The crows would hunt down prey for Death and when they found a good target they would call for Death to come and she would claim her victim. He's still not sure if this was a religious thing for her or if she was just screwing with him. As a child he swallowed the legend up, but now as a man he knew better than to believe in superstition. But...some fears you can never quite get rid of. He hurried up his pace, hoping the others would maybe follow suit. As silly as he knew it was, he wanted nothing more than to escape these crows.