[b][color=9e0039][h2][u]Azerus Thorn[/u][/h2][/color][/b]

The bright light of a rising morning pierced the flesh of Azerus's thin eyelids. Groggily he shook his aching head trying to hide from the sun as the cool crisp outside air ran along his skin. It sent a shiver down his spine. Oh damn, he was outside...

It seemed to have gotten much brighter by the time he finally opened his eyes, squinting as he looked around Azerus tried to assess his location and situation. All he could see was bright white, dirt and a wall. By no means was Azerus feeling ok, right now he couldn't consider an occasion  were he had woken up feeling worse. 

His head was splitting with a pounding headache, he had poor recollection of the night before, the strong residual smell of cheap ale hung on his breath and he had the faint taste of blood on his lips. No there was nothing too unusual here. 

Despite all reasonable logic and indicators he still prayed to find himself in a large soft bed with luscious soft white sheets and an exotic strange girl wrapped in his arms. 

No such luck.

As his eyes adjusted to and filtered the piercing painful light he quickly looks around and lets out a deep loud long disappointed sigh, reality hit him hard and confirmed the initial thoughts he wanted to hide from. Azerus lay outside amongst a hay heap in a dirty small boar pen. 
Surprisingly, even though the odds were against him, he was still both saddened and disappointed by this, as it meant there would be no breakfast or other things he hoped for. 

With a groan he picks his battered, bruised and injured body off the floor and recollects the night before as he staggers towards the Southern Gate Tap to collect the belongings he had hid the night before.

[hr][center]Last Night
[i]Southern Gate Tap[/i][/center][hr][hider=events]

There it was, once again, that all too familiar taste of blood swelling within his mouth.

[b]"Son of a"[/b] he had began to slur before another fist came violently crashing into his face. His head snapped across sending the growing pool of salivate blood splattering across the wooden floor. There came a deep guttural growl from the back of his throat in reply. Azerus slowly lifted his head back up so his opponent could see the predatory rage burning within his bloodshot eyes.
[b]"Not a smart move"[/b] a maniacal smile of perfect white teeth follow his words. 

Azerus who was kneeling on the back of some big old slow hammer-fisted half Orc tavern regular, releases the the mans head to fall to the floorboards with a heavy thud. 
Only moments ago Azerus had been pounding his head into the ground while shouting nonsense and now the mans face was silhouetted by a smeared pool of his own blood. Azerus turned all his focus to the skinny righteous kid who blind sighted him. Ignoring the man at his feet and the other laying beneath the debris of a broken chandelier.

Had there been the only three in the tavern that day, Azerus might have walked out a happy man. But NO. He would not be so lucky. The skinny man before him was a squire to the knight seated behind him. One who had now grown board of the entertainment. 

-------

Broken bruised and bloody Azerus came crashing into a pile of rubbish as he was thrown out the back door into a dirty old alley way. "Cowaghds" he yells back defiantly through a broken jaw, at what must have been an upset tavern owner. Next a metal pot came hurtling at Azerus hitting him in the face hard enough to have him seeing black.
With a sputter he painfully laughs at his own misfortune before passing out.

[hr][/hider]