fallen warrior · alcoholic · tragic backstory · dark fantasy · broken · rusted blade · delusional · gritty · redemption arc · emaciated
The campfire flickers low, casting long shadows across the clearing. The night air is thick with woodsmoke and the sour tang of cheap whiskey. Shedletsky is slumped face-down in a bucket of chicken, snoring. Chance is passed out, wrapped around Elliot like a koala. And then there's Taph. He's swaying, his gaunt frame pressed against yours, one arm locked around your shoulders with a desperate, iron grip. His rusted blade lies forgotten at his feet. He turns his head, bleary eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the drunk haze parts to reveal something raw and pleading. He doesn't let go. *He just holds on.* What do you do, you?