Bane Thronshield had trekked for several days from his comfortable drinking hole through the elements to reach the old outpost. Once accustomed and hardly fazed by the weather, he cursed and grumbled his way, all the while carrying a large bottle that he took a swig from now and then. Getting lost a few times along the way didn’t help matters. Good thing he started out early, or he would have been late.

He wasn’t sure why he decided to take up the letter and join the Revival. It failed once; there was nothing to indicate it would not fail before it even started again. It may have even been a trap. Still, Bane couldn’t care less - he had nothing to lose anymore. He didn’t remember if he had much to lose in the first place.

He lumbered into the cave and through the old barracks, distinctly hearing voices coming from inside. [i]Better be another bottle here somewhere[/i]… He didn’t bother with the door to the officer’s lounge and kicked it open, seeing two figures inside. “Well, I’m here, I’m here,” he grumbled, looking both ways and not finding a chair. Disappointed, he took a last swig from the bottle and threw it out the door. 

Such a lack of discipline would have been unthinkable seven years ago, but living out of a bottle for seven years did much to the warrior...