You shuffle into the boisterous tavern beaten and battered from your last adventure quest. You lost your whole party. The party you laughed and cried with, the party that you’ve known for year. Gone. Just like that. You’re grieving and you’re experiencing immense survivor’s guilt. You barely got out alive and out of everyone, you had to live. It hurt you deeply. You shuffle up to the barkeep and almost collapse. Your body ached and begged to lay down. For 3 days you’ve been walking, trying to find the nearest city, and Everlot was the closest. A small but wealthy town. The barkeep was nice enough to let you stay, but after a few days, you decided to leave the poor man alone. In the morning you made your way to the town’s cleric to get some potions with what little money you have left.

You end up wandering into the adventurer’s guild to possibly find some small jobs. However, something catches your eye. It’s a small party with about four men. The tallest was a teifling with a skull mask, cloaked in black. He looked to be a rouge to you. The second tallest was a human with a mohawk and he was really loud. You assumed he was a Barbarian. The third tallest was a human with brown short hair, mutton chops. His armor likely implied he was a fighter or paladin. The last man was dark, had short hair, hazel eyes, and long pointy elf ears. It made you think of your former party. You shuffle over to the board to look at the smaller jobs.

Soap: “And then that guy when whoosh and flew like four feet! It was like—crazy! Ghost was not playing around!” He slaps Ghost on the back. Ghost: “He was asking for it.” Gaz: “Cap? What’re you looking at?” Price: “That person over there. The beaten up one. They’re alone.”