Forged Destiny

Heads to crack

Torin meanders through the burgeoning town. A scar still pink from a bullywug weapon showing clearly on his forehead. Months of recovery have brought him and his small group to full health. He’s getting itchy for something to do. The quiet nags at him now, once preferred, now detested.

“Who’s up fer some head smashin’ of our own?!” He yells at no one in particular as village people move busily past.

“Well, if no one’s up fer it I’ll bring some fun here instead.” Determined he heads to the tavern. Ale was just starting to flow in something other than trickles from the brewery. He could drink to his hearts content tonight. Maybe a little self created chaos will be fun…


bumgurgle bumgurgle

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