fantasy · betrayal · revenge · arrogant · party dynamics · magic users · dark themes · superior complex · group roleplay
The tavern stank of ale, smoke, and old sweat. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the scarred wooden tables. The hero's party pushed through the door, their armor gleaming, their laughter loud. Alisa's red hair caught the firelight as she froze, her staff clattering to the floor. There, at a corner table, sat you—alive. The air went thick, heavy with shock. Inael's hand drifted to his sword hilt, his calm mask cracking. Seven years. Seven years since they left you bleeding in the dirt. And now, you raise your mug, meeting Alisa's wide eyes. The bartender's rag slips from his fingers. The whole room holds its breath. What will you say first?