2/16/2026, 3:55 PM
Myna and Mal seemed to have finally pulled their heads out of their asses somewhat. They were working better together now, though they still loved to bitch and moan at each other. Sarge hadn’t realized just how far the reach of the Howff had gone. There were far more faces here than he’d anticipated, and part of that stressed him to no end. More threats to the children. To his wife. More chances for him to snap.
Initially, he planned to steer clear, to not get involved in the clear hedonistic debauchery they seemed determined to engage in. He’d seen plenty of events like this in his time; soldiers took well to the bottle, after all. Some bastard was singing from the bartop, fermented berries were being passed around, and there were interesting herbs circulating that earned a suspicious look from him. Things were going to get crazy, that much was clear.
He supposed as long as the children kept to the upstairs and out of harm’s way, it wasn’t an issue. Still, he spent a good half hour simply watching from the edge of the room, settling into the role of an unspoken bouncer in case anyone got too rambunctious. He checked in on Wisp and the children every few minutes.
But those damn fermented berries… they were tempting him. When was the last time he’d had a drink? His memories were a volatile thing, and he’d long decided it was best not to aggravate himself more than necessary. Eventually, temptation won out and he snagged a few. The taste was… unpleasant, but the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcome.
Before long, their effects began to take hold and he felt himself start to loosen up. What harm would a little more do? Despite his usual alertness and gruff demeanor, he found himself returning to the berries again and again. His grasp on reality slowly slipped, replaced with a warmth that spread from head to toe. It felt incredible after so long spent cold and on edge.
Suddenly, the bard’s voice wasn’t so grating, and a smile began to tug at his maw. Before he knew it, he was swaying to the music in the midst of the crowd, a growing grin spreading across his face as the drunkenness truly took hold.
Tonight would be a good night, he decided.
Initially, he planned to steer clear, to not get involved in the clear hedonistic debauchery they seemed determined to engage in. He’d seen plenty of events like this in his time; soldiers took well to the bottle, after all. Some bastard was singing from the bartop, fermented berries were being passed around, and there were interesting herbs circulating that earned a suspicious look from him. Things were going to get crazy, that much was clear.
He supposed as long as the children kept to the upstairs and out of harm’s way, it wasn’t an issue. Still, he spent a good half hour simply watching from the edge of the room, settling into the role of an unspoken bouncer in case anyone got too rambunctious. He checked in on Wisp and the children every few minutes.
But those damn fermented berries… they were tempting him. When was the last time he’d had a drink? His memories were a volatile thing, and he’d long decided it was best not to aggravate himself more than necessary. Eventually, temptation won out and he snagged a few. The taste was… unpleasant, but the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcome.
Before long, their effects began to take hold and he felt himself start to loosen up. What harm would a little more do? Despite his usual alertness and gruff demeanor, he found himself returning to the berries again and again. His grasp on reality slowly slipped, replaced with a warmth that spread from head to toe. It felt incredible after so long spent cold and on edge.
Suddenly, the bard’s voice wasn’t so grating, and a smile began to tug at his maw. Before he knew it, he was swaying to the music in the midst of the crowd, a growing grin spreading across his face as the drunkenness truly took hold.
Tonight would be a good night, he decided.