Several hours later, inside one of Ashenveil's inns, the door to a private room slowly opened as a group of adventurers began to leave.
None of them looked particularly well. Anger, exhaustion, grief, and frustration mixed together across their faces, leaving them looking far older than they had only a few hours ago.
Yet despite the emotions weighing heavily upon them, nobody said a word as they stepped into the hallway and disappeared one after another.
There was simply nothing left to say.
Everything that needed to be said had already been thrown at the person remaining behind.
The room itself looked as though a fight had broken out. A table had been overturned, one of the chairs had been reduced to splinters, and several pieces of furniture had either been shoved aside or broken entirely.
And sitting amongst the aftermath was Varkesh.
The tiger beastkin leaned against the wall, one eye swollen shut, while dark bruises spread across much of his body.
