Alistair studies his spellbook for a time after Greg's cleansing and his own bath. It's still hard to imagine him gone from us and nearly impossible to imagine anything, or anyone who could fill the void he left. The wizard gains more and more confidence in his magic in each encounter, but h is wise enough to know that his place is at range and hurling his spells at enemies, not swinging swords and leading the champions into battle. He sighs obviously crestfallen with the turn of events and rises from his bed, walking to the window and looking out over the bustling town of Newgate. He hungers for a Coke and maybe a couple brats. Try as he might he can't shake the current problem, nor can he fathom a way to salvage this sinking ship from the sea of despair.<br/><br/>"We need a fucking hero..." Which after spoken draws a chuckle from the young wizard. "She's gotta be strong, and she's gotta be fast, and she's gotta be fresh from the fight." He shakes his head. He puts on his clothes and heads downstairs and bellies up to the bar.<br/><br/>"Give me the highest alcohol concentration you have...and keep them coming."<br/><br/>(http://images.akamai.steamusercontent.com/ugc/488932624340336076/26EB3F388D7A6D0F273B34B138B82351780AFA11/)<br/><br/>