A new day

{if NOT game:slept_in_the_cellar= true} I woke up early in the morning due to captain Bain’s stiff member trying to lodge itself up my arsehole. Given everything I had been through with the orc camp recently, I was eager to avoid any accidental slippage. So, I took this as my cue to get up, get dressed and see what the day held for me. {else} I woke up early in the morning, confused as to where I was... before remembering last night’s events! I brushed myself up, then headed upstairs.{endif}

The tavern common room was quiet in the early dawn light, save for the smell of roasting oats and stale ale. Sitting near the fireplace was an odd pair that immediately caught my attention.

One was a young priestess in pristine white robes, clutching a heavy leather-bound holy book to her chest. Her eyes practically sparkled with pious zeal the second she spotted my paladin libram.

“Ah, a holy knight of the Alliance!” she squeaked, bounding up from her chair. “Sister Clara, at your service! The Light truly answers prayers - I was just praying for a sturdy protector to guide us toward the riverbank!”
“Ah... yes, the Light provides,” I said, puffing out my chest out of habit, though my lower back still throbbed with a very un-holy fatigue.
“And this is my temporary associate, Master Gerald,” Clara added, gesturing toward a pale, miserable-looking young man sitting at the table.

Gerald had massive dark circles under his eyes, messy robes, and was clutching a mug of black tea like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this mortal realm.

{if NOT game:slept_in_the_cellar= true}

I squinted at his pale face and disheveled hair, offering a simple, polite nod.

“Morning, paladin,” Gerald muttered in a raspy voice, barely looking up from his tea.
“Gerald was involved in a tragic accident last night,” Clara chimed in sympathetically, completely oblivious to his faint fel-scented aura. “He took a nasty spill down the cellar stairs while searching for... historical manuscripts! But together, with your holy shield, my healing prayers, and his... questionable offensive spells, we shall conquer the murloc menace!”

I looked at the overly enthusiastic priestess, then at the thoroughly miserable warlock who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and let out a quiet sigh.

{else}

The moment our eyes met, a flicker of uneasy recognition passed between us.

Wait a minute, I thought, staring at his disheveled hair. That’s the guy from the cellar! The wannabe warlock who got knocked out before the demon...

Gerald swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under my gaze.

“Er... morning, paladin,” he muttered, his voice raspy. “I, uh... fell down the cellar stairs last night. Nasty bump on the head. Can't remember a thing after sunset.”
“A tragic accident,” Clara chimed in sympathetically. “Poor Gerald was just down there searching for... historical manuscripts! But together, with your holy shield, my healing prayers, and his... questionable offensive spells, we shall conquer the murloc menace!”

I looked at the overly enthusiastic priestess, then at the thoroughly humiliated warlock who was desperately praying I wouldn’t mention the cellar, and let out a quiet sigh.

{endif}

“Right then,” I announced, strapping my hammer to my belt. “To the riverbank.”