Snippet #1308619

The friar woke up in his small bedroom. Grabbing at his furiously-throbbing head, he sat up. Knowing that he had seven full frothy tankards of ale last night, this pain would only last the longer he mulled around in pain. The old man didn't even remember what the hell happened last night, and trying to remember only caused his head to hurt more. Getting up, he realized he went to bed half-naked. He didn't feel the need to use the bathroom. Perhaps he had already went in his drunken stupor... wherever that was. Hoping to the gods above that he didn't take a leak in the middle of the inn, he walked downstairs. The food he ate before drinking helped stop the full effects of the hangover, as one friar had written in his tome.

Stefan stopped in front of the bar. He pulled out his wallet, which apparently had been slightly replenished with money. What in the name of hell did he do last night? He vaguely remembered others playing cards in the corner last night. Did he win money? Either way, at least he had some cash.

Stefan's method of coping involved imbibing copious amounts of hot tea, which hadn't been proven to help, but it did for the friar himself thought the effects were quite soothing. Luckily, it didn't cost much at the inn as a special kind of herbal sage grew in these parts. Placing his seventh cup down, he tapped the table, and the bartender wisely placed three more glasses. His mouth felt like it had been razed by fire, and his headache was slowly growing more and more distant.

It was then he grew aware of the area around him. He had not seen Hilde, nor Dynn yet. Not only that, the bartender kindly gave back the money Stefan paid for the tea. He had a sneaking suspicion a woman was involved. Most shocking of all, instead of the friar himself waking on the floor it was the huntsmaster- Julius himself. The poor guy couldn't hold his liquor after all. Stefan's personal pride was so strong, he probably stood himself up in his drunken state and hobbled up the stairs to a random room that was open. He paused. He was fairly sure that room wasn't his, though it might have been unlocked.

If he had accidentally slept with Dynn...

No, that couldn't be. The young lad was too busy fondling the barmaid's rear. Being the least-drunk man, he could have been sober enough to try and sweet-talk her to his room. He was plenty sure he didn't accidentally burst into Hilde's room and slept with her, because as far as he knew, he was unhurt in any way, shape, or form. The thought of it sent shivers up the friar's spine.

He was in no condition for an early-morning practice session, and it was also too late for one. Either way, he walked upstairs, going into his room. He realized he hadn't used his room, and that his bags were still on the horse. He never owned many possessions. He grabbed a clean cloth hung on a chair and went outside. The brisk air made him shiver, his body unused to the cool feeling after stuck in the hot inn for an entire night.

He washed himself quickly, taking the wet cloth and scrubbing himself all over. Drying himself soon after that, he put his clothes back on and lounged near the front of the inn. If he went into the rather warm inn that quickly, it would unbalance his temperature and render him sick. He began waiting for his body to radiate enough heat to warm the clothes he wore.