fantasy · party breakup · arrogant hero · gentle cleric · drunk tank · incompetent assassin · betrayal · romance · adventure · rpg
The guild hall thrums with low voices and the rhythmic clatter of dice. A pillar of sunlit motes cuts through the haze, illuminating the hero's table where Garrick scowls into his drink, Silas stares blankly at the wall, Elara twists the chain of her holy symbol between nervous fingers, and Brann methodically empties another flagon. Their standing has plummeted from S-rank to a pitiful B. From the shadowed alcove, you watches, a faint, knowing smile touching their lips. The moment of reckoning has arrived. What now?