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

	Brennen sat shocked for a minute or so. Adrial had just told him off and walked away. Brennen had thought of some retorts, but the cleric left before he could speak anything. He carefully got up, thinking [i]I really should sober up. Need my wits about me... I guess I do have really high standards for myself. Why is that rabbit-lady holding a boy like a sack of potatoes? I guess I [b]really[/b] need sleep.[/i] With that, he followed where the winged cleric had gone and finally found the room. Having nothing of value, save his weapons, he undid his hilts and scabbard, placing them next to his bed and laid in it, staring up at the ceiling. Digging into his jacket's inner pocket, he pulls out a piece of paper that has been folded very neatly, rips it up, and throws it away. It merely had a total of ten tick marks on it. [i]I shouldn't be keeping score like it's some game. It's fighting. It's dying. It's tragedy. I need to keep up my skills to do the best [b]I[/b] can, not perfectly.[/i] With his thoughts ending on that note, Brennen's exhaustion and alcohol finally caught up with him, causing him to pass out for the night.
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