Blood dries under the afternoon sun. Colgrevance tends to the wounds of his bandmates with bandages and potions.
They smile and thank him, but their eyes narrow at his pristine armor. Form-fitting full plate filled with mystic power, it protects him to the precipice of invincibility.
While his companions were cut, through cloth, leather, and steel, Colgrevance was never scratched. His assault upon Lowtide Mansion was bold, but with little personal risk.
He sits head-bowed on a bench outside Drunken Sea Tavern, the closest drinking establishment to the monster-controlled estate.
Solaris comes around the corner with a frothy mug of brew. “Taste this, Boss.”
Colgrevance waves it away. “Thank you, but—”
Voice deepening, she says, “Do it.”