[color=darkturquoise]"…nice and cozy, last night…"[/color]

Yester evening’s blackout wilted into wrinkles, emaciated upon Wick’s forehead, as she stood in the lower lever bar area, now riddled with glass and applause. The shirtless bard served as another enticement, tickling the fancy of a hidden yearning, which was not evidently satiated by the pooled mattress shared by Katia and the warlock. Was this yen unique to her new reincarnated physique? Or youth? Or had the darkness urged a betrayal of her vows?

While deviating her vision away from the chiseled torso of Cesar, she swept the broken debris away from their exit. Glancing at the frantic wizard provided some comedic solace as virgin fear still perforated her stoic demeanor. Not of the unknown, but of the recent sensual past.

[color=ec008c]“The Hall has my lot. Today will be anointed with either feast or famine. Friends or foes. I dread that fortune no longer whispers but booms serendipity upon our venture.”[/color]

Noting the avians' flapping heralded distant squawks, Wick motioned the gnome with a welcoming arm, beckoning Birbin to lead the way.

[color=ec008c]“Let’s go, friend."[/color]