Daric drank from the half empty bottle as he listened. As much as he hated to admit it the resistance in the area were really just a bunch of punks messing with the soldiers. The dwarves and other races that came to his inn seemed willing to help enough, though it may’ve been due to intoxication.<br/><br/>He was admittedly startled when he heard the sound of Vennar smacking the table. When she asked him if Vennar looked like he was in a condition to go on a journey he looked up and down at the old man. Sure he’s in great great shape but it didn’t negate the fact that he was in his forties. Daric downed the rest of the bottle’s content and slam it onto the table, making a loud sound but not breaking it. Daric placed his hand on Vennar’s shoulder, massaging it a little “you’re like a brother to me if not a father, and a great friend. I know you have a few good years of fighting left in you but I don’t even know if I’d survive it and I’m half your age!” Daric took a deep breath “the last thing I want is for me to lose my second father because of that asshole, not again” Daric looked vulnerable as he said those words.