Member
Grendel Kirk
Grendel's night had largely been spent laying in a puddle of mud trying to make himself as small as possible. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to cold, quite the contrary really. Gren was quite certain that he would have no trouble recovering from this tempest, that wasn't the problem. The fact that he was getting soaked to the bone wasn't an issue either, he could dry. It wasn't that he would be filthy in the morning, he could wash. It was the principle of the matter. Who the hell chooses to spend his evening getting buffeted by rain in the middle of a bloody puddle!?
The storm didn't last though. Like all the rest, it went slinking back into it's lair, waiting to unleash watery hell upon the denizens of Mashal once more. Gren used this time to wash himself and his clothes in the nearby river under cover of night, basking in the new dawn rising before him. He could barely see his reflection peeking back at his pale face, courtesy of the dim light. Tired, sleepless eyes and an ever frowning mouth... Grendel left the river, and sat for an hour or two before dressing into his still damp clothes.
The fires attracted Grendel like a bear to honey. Though his pride would refuse to admit that the moist clothes and last night's chill bothered him, his feet had thought otherwise.
Gren's mind was elsewhere as he found himself bumping into something warm and made of flesh. He stepped back swiftly, only to see Galen standing before him. "Sorry about that," He said in an even voice. "It's been a rough night. Well, rougher than usual."