<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ab/Aelen13.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Aelen Quinrona</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=267118.msg13176342#msg13176342)<br/><em>Noble High Elf Duelist Fighter 1</em><br/><br/><strong>Location</strong>: Emperor's Flagon -> River<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>Aelen was quite pleased to get to his room, as the shots of Ogre Swill had begun to wear off and his sugar high had become a crash leaving him terribly sleepy.  He absently hugged his friends and nuzzled them, kissing cheeks before drifting into his room to peel off his clothes.  He left everything in an untidy pile at the side of his bed, then crawled under the blanket with a mewling yawn, nestling into the soft mattress happily.  The elf slept like the dead, his rump thrust into the air and his head buried under his pillow, toes peeking out from under the end of his blanket.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The next morning/afternoon, when he woke, the first sound he made was a whine.  His poor head was throbbing, he felt like death and he hadn't had his nightly wash in the nearby river the night before, so he felt icky as well.  His mouth tasted<em>atrocious</em>, and his first thought was that he hoped it hadn't tasted that bad when he'd kissed Zae.  He suspected it hadn't, since he was pretty sure the current flavor was Ogre Swill mixed with honey and further fermented.  He shuddered and flopped over to force himself to sit up, whimpering at the things it did to his head.<br/><br/>His pretty blonde hair was a tangled bush around his face, there was dried drool in the corner of his mouth and fabric creases in his left cheek...such a charmer.  Scratching his bare chest, he yawned again and sneezed softly, groaning as it made his headache worsen briefly.  Glancing vacantly around the room as his brain tried to kick into gear, he didn't even notice the trunk at first, then blinked and finally looked back at it curiously.  "Hmf?"<br/><br/>Rather than stand up, he slid liquidly out of bed and onto the floor to crawl over to the trunk and kneel in front of it.  Opening it, his aches and cat-dirt-flavored tongue were temporarily forgotten in favor of delight over the new armor, weapons and clothing.  He drew the rapier from its sheath and felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes, his chest heavy with the desire to weep with joy over the feeling of his arm being whole once more.  Sniffling, he laid the weapon lovingly back into the trunk and picked up the clothing instead, pleased that he would not be required to wear his clothes from the day before.  He usually washed them when he took his bath at night and they dried by the fire overnight.<br/><br/>He climbed to his feet with some effort and managed to pull on his dirty breeches for the walk to the river, grabbing the honeysuckle soap and clove paste he always made certain a portion of his meager funds went to buy.  He would go hungry, shovel out stables, do whatever was necessary to make certain he had his precious sweet-smelling luxuries.  Shirtless, barefoot and squinting, carrying his new clothing, hair brush and toiletries, he padded out of his room and made his way down through the building and out to the back.  The walk to the river (really little more than a stream) was a quick one, though the harsh sunlight was murder on his eyes.<br/><br/>He set his clothing down on a clean, flat rock with his brush, and carried the other two items to the edge of the water.  Stripping off his breeches, utterly unconcerned about possible prying eyes, he waded into the water a bit.