[h3]Drostan Welm/"Osmund Griff" - Dalenham, Ethora[/h3]

[hr]

Sunlight streamed through the window and directly into Drostan's eyes, as he groaned into hesitant consciousness. His head hurt, his throat felt dry. He hadn't even thought he'd drank that much the previous night, but his body begged to differ. He was glad that he'd managed to drag himself back to his room at some point, though the rented bed hadn't done much to ease the various aches and brusies from the last job. And, as he thought about jobs, he remembered with a subdued despair that he had another one to do that morning. He weighed his options. It would be oh-so-easy to remain in bed, sleep for another few hours, and then hightail it out of Ethora before any of his more responsible comrades could confront him.

Or, he could wake up and do what he said he'd do. 

He sat upright, rubbed his eyes and was up for the day. He splashed some water from the room's washpan in his face and then began the long process of armoring himself. A process, to be sure. He didn't wear full plate, couldn't afford it even if he wanted to, instead opting for a hodgepodge of leather, chain, and the odd bit of solid metal. It was the result of many repairs, by many blacksmiths of various skill. It didn't look [i]terrible[/i], he supposed, but he'd still wear it even if it did. After all, he hadn't gotten killed yet. Once his armor was dealt with, all that was left was to strap his shield and spear to his back and his sword to his waist. 

About ten minutes later, he found his companions, stepping into their midst squinting against the sunlight. 

"I'm not late, am I?" He looked around, nodded at Edon and Varian. As he looked at the highman, his eyes widened as though remembering something, followed by a small, knowing smile. "Ah, Varian, I think I lost track of you last night. What happened to your head?" He wanted to ask about the girl that he vaguely remembered seeing him with, but he supposed it wasn't his business. He wanted to say something to Edon, but he wasn't sure what. The man hadn't joined in with his and Varian's carousing. Well, Drostan hadn't done much carousing, unless that definition included sitting in the same spot and drinking for a few hours. The way he felt, though, he had to admit that Edon might have had the right idea.