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Several villages away Dagorion (or was I Cangred? Ah hell I’m Dagorion from now on.) awoke to a strange feeling other than that of being in your own filth. "Oh the teifling wants me again dose he? Well he had better be willin’ to pay 12 years of bar tabs or he’s in fer some angry tavern owners.
Over the year Dagorion hadn’t changed a bit. This is not figure of speech as the Dwarf was still wearing the same clothes he had been 12 years earlier and they were now significantly dirtier. Stumbling to the nearest bathhouse the Dwarf emerges 5 hours later smelling... slightly better... And climbs into the nearest carriage headed to the area of the Palace and falls asleep.
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