[color=14cedb][u][b][center][h3]Brennen Garron[/h3][/center][/b][/u]

	Brennen was disappointed by how many casualties on his side. [i]I should have micromanaged them. If we'd had more help, I could have more directly commanded the villagers while the Cleric and other help took out the Screecher.[/i] Feeling frustration, Brennen launches an angry fireball off in the distance, away from town, shouting a long string of curses. [i]It's my fault they're dead...[/i] With that, Brennen heads to this Tavern of Heroes that's been set up for the convenience of the Heroes and pays for a strong ale. Being asked how strong, Brennen's only response was "strong enough to make me forget today even happened." Once served his drink, he took to a small booth along the wall, just hoping to black out. Brennen has only had any alcohol once before this drink, and it was because he was testing his skills while impaired. He still beat his opponent in... whatever game it was, but by a much smaller margin than when he was sober.
	By the time he finished his glass, he was barely conscious, crying heavily yet quietly, head buried in his arms on the table. [i]We won. We achieved the objective. Why don't I feel like it was a victory, though? It feels like I lost the battle. Twenty-fucking-four volunteers died because I was too involved with that parent-fukcing, ass-faced screecher. I should have focused on the people, not the enemy... Dammit. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."[/i] His last thought slipped through his mouth, but it wasn't more than a drunken, slurred mumble. [/color]