<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/gICaxXK.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Torner, the Hanged Man</strong></span></span></div><br/>Torner was making his way around the most squalid part of the Gate district. There were some eyes that likely turned upon him in fear - a giant, hulking man with a greatsword slung across his back was no comforting sight - but his intentions were good.<br/><br/>He came bearing bread for the hungry, and he distributed quartered loaves to the needy he found. Torner prioritized children in his distribution, and for children, he gave entire loaves of bread for them. It hurt his heart to see children hungry and to go without, and he felt a bitter jab of impotent anger at knowing just how little that loaf of bread would do in the larger scheme. It was a curse of the semi-scholastic upbringing he been subjected to - he and his four siblings gathered at the foot of some learned sage who had spent their entire life in a cloister and surrounded by scrolls. Torner would be the first to admit that he had failed to grasp the finer points of philosophy that the sages had attempted to impart to him.<br/><br/>Such failings did not shame the man that Torner had grown up to become, though they had shamed the boy he was. Today, it only left him with the certain knowledge that for today, at least, there were children who would not go hungry. But from past he instruction, the clawing, unmerciful cries of 'what of tomorrow?' would give him no peace or succor. Tomorrow these children and wretches would be no better off than they were today. Torner had to tell himself he was only man, and that tomorrow would look to itself.<br/><br/>But he was here, today, and he gave bread. And though it took him several trips from the Gate district and the Market district, Torner distributed some two hundred loaves of bread.<br/><br/>When he was finished with that endeavor, Torner lumbered to the Whiskered Squid. The raucous sound was not unfamiliar to him - such places abounded, and there he would find familiar fare. The music seemed a touch better than some places he had stayed, but the real measure of the place would be in the beer. He despaired of finding any sort of mead worth the name in all of the lands of Wivensi. It was as though some ancient curse had been levied upon all of the territories of Wivensi, and some unseen terrible force rendered the boundless goodness of honey into something miserable when any within Wivensi tried to turn their hand to the brewing of mead.<br/><br/>The majority of the occupants, unsurprisingly, seemed to be local lay folk - labourers, craftsmen, and other folk who made their livelihoods with honest work. Not for them the hack and hew, nor the battle-sweat. They were men that Torner had been taught to respect, and after long years of making fat and plump untold scores of ravens, came to respect honestly. Torner made his way past a group of masons sharing around a pitcher of wine, talking of some building they had finished, and the left corner of Torner's mouth turned up into a small half-smile. These men had real courage. They built. They created with their own two hands a future. They left behind a lasting thing, and a history. Perhaps nothing that the bards would sing of, but when Torner was ash and dust and the bard's voice lost in the winds, what these men built would remain.<br/><br/>Men like Torner? He built nothing. He left behind only a history of violence. But in this world there were men who could be naught but what they were: wolves. The only thing that set Torner apart was his choice to abide by the old code, the Legend's code. And that was a choice he had to affirm and cling to each day. Some days were easier than others.<br/><br/>In his way through the Squid, Torner noted, by mere chance, someone who stood out from the rest, much like himself. A youth in mismatched armor and a foppish, fancy lad hat.<br/><br/>"Hail and well met, friend." Torner said, his voice deep and discordant, like he regularly gargled gravel for pleasure as a lifestyle choice. The hanging had not done wonders for Torner's voice. He gave Leigh a lopsided grin that was as friendly as could be. "I'd prefer not drink alone. Share a table with me, and I'll buy the first few rounds - a drink always tastes better in good company, eh?"<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Expenses</div><div class="spoiler_body">Spent 4 gp on bread for this, and made the change to my sheet.</div></div>