I walked to the tavern with a slight discomfort on how I maneuver this body. It's thinner than what I'm used to but it's twice heaver. Not to mention, my foot is bare and mud is coursing between my toes. I should feel disgusted by how retching my feet are but it feels like I'm used to it by now. It was as if I've lived this way for a long time, a lifetime even.
I opened the tavern door and I was met by a gloomy crowd. In most RPGs I played, there should be a bard playing in the corner while mercenaries hit their flagons for the adventures that will come. My expectations were crumpled, thrown and spat into the ground. A few people are sitting as far away from anyone as possible. They were busy musing about dark thoughts and darker intentions. Darker than the clouds above. I approach...