[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hCxZFym.png?1[/img]
[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190516/9d118031b8a8b9946458a6c52ed77a0c.png[/img][/center][center][sub][color=darkgray][color=white][b]::[/b] [/color]the laughing worg tavern [color=white][b]//[/b] [/color] thorinn [color=white][b]::[/b][/color][/color][/sub][/center][indent][indent][hr]
The plate of food set before Graves remained untouched, save for the occasional poke with a fork to give the impression that he was trying to eat. But he wasn't hungry. Not in the slightest.

Only a handful of days had passed since he and the rest of his party managed to escape that dungeon with their lives. He'd taken a rather nasty blow to the head that he could still feel the effects of ringing in the back of his skull like a phantom's bell. 'Course it wasn't the only thing from that fight that was bouncing around in his head, refusing to go away. Death was a strange thing. Graves had seen it a hundred times in Pariah, yet...something about that last one felt so much more real. The desperation on the other man's face as he tried to cling to life,to his last, precious few seconds in the world. It was nauseating just remembering it.

He wasn't the only one thinking about it. Rael said it aloud first. Brought all their fears and worries out into the open air to stew in that stinking tavern. [color=crimson]"I'on't know, Red."[/color] He said with a heavy sigh. [color=crimson]"Maybe everything."[/color]

Graves had shed his armor and other combat gear, leaving it behind in a pile in the room he'd rented out for the last couple of days. Most of it was in dire need of repair after Arnaakus nearly tore him in two. Part of him didn't want to even bother. With all the new bullshit they were learning about the game, he was becoming less and less comfortable running around in that suit. He felt naked in something so lightly armored. It might be worth it to just scrap his current gear and invest in a suit of half-plate for the time being. While they hid away in Thorinn he was comfortable enough in his normal attire, at least for now. A simple, hooded tunic of gray linen and a black jerkin pulled over it did more than enough to keep him warm.

Keeping warm. In a video game. [color=crimson][i]'God, nothin' makes much sense anymore, does it?'[/i][/color]

He was torn from his thoughts at the sound of chair legs being dragged against wood. He looked up just in time to see Rael stand from the table and make her way to the door. [color=crimson]"Where're yo-"[/color] But she was already gone before he could so much as finish asking the question. [color=crimson]"Fuckin' bitch."[/color] He snarled under his breath, letting his head fall into his hands so he could massage his temples. The headache was getting worse. They'd lost a man in the dungeons and a few more had abandoned the party the moment they'd gotten back to Thorinn- off to panic on their lonesome, Graves assumed. God knows why he hadn't walked away, too. Babysitting had never been his strong suit, and keeping some, [i]unnamed[/i] members of that party together was like herding cats.

Sighing, he did his best to reset himself and looked out over the rest of the party. [color=crimson]"Alright guys,"[/color] he started, sitting up. [color=crimson]"It's been a couple'a days and we haven't gotten any word on when we can get outta here. We can't sit around drinkin' our troubles away forever, so...what'do we do next?"[/color]

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