Roleplay Forums > Canelux > Kingdom of Adeluna > Ancense Ruins > Dutch Courage [event][p]
Hesiodos

Character Info
Name: Hesiodos
Age: 145
Alignment: LN
Race: Siren
Gender: Male
Class: Druidic Healer
Silver: 316
Warily, Hesios eyed the keg hefted about by the dwarf. Why, it had to weigh a good deal, and yet he swung it about as if it were a feather! The siren had heard of the strength of dwarves, but he hadn't expected to see it first-hand, let alone in such a fashion. Also, to be honest, he wasn't exactly the best at holding his drink, even despite his relative age. Alcohol hadn't ever been something he'd much bothered with, aside from using it to clean wounds and tools. Still he decided it best to be polite, considering brewing drinks was Karason's entire reason for being above ground and away from home.
"I'll be sure to let you know," was all he said, simply, hoping that he'd both not need the drink, and not need to utilise his healing skills.

"Necromancers?!" Hesios blurted, staring at Karason with wide eyes, "I mean, well, there would have to be necromancers, I suppose," the siren continued, feeling an embarrassed flush creep up his neck. Of course there would be necromancers! How else would undead get here? What a stupid thing to exclaim! Karason was probably regretting accompanying him down here already…
"I just hoped we wouldn't actually encounter them," Hesios murmured with an anxious look towards the cold fire bobbing ahead, as if afraid it would hear them.
His expression fell into one of pity as his mind chewed over what Karason told him.
"Oh, so it could have been stuck down here for, well, Tides know how long. That's…awful."

While he felt for the ghost-light, he didn't know what they could do for it - he was no medium, and he doubted Karason was, either. So when the dwarf suggested he go near the thing, Hesios stared at him like he had grown a second head. Gaping like a fish out of water - no pun intended - he watched as Karason poured a drink, and knocked it back, before grabbing a second tankard and pouring one for him.
Numbly, he took the drink, and sipped it even as he watched Karason pour himself another, and knock that one back, too. The dwarf's words barely registered before Karason was already ambling towards the ghost-light, Hesios belatedly letting out a strangled squeak.

For its part, the cold fire listlessly floating in the dark, aimlessly meandering as if searching for something, but constantly forgetting what. It felt warmth draw near, however, the first warmth it had felt in generations, and it drifted towards it, like a moth to a flame. Curious, yet without malice, tendrils reached out towards that warmth, like a frozen man would stretch his hands towards a fire.

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