Levi Barenjager
The Drunken Battlemage
Levi awoke on the floor by the fireplace, sore in spots from the previous days battle and head aching a little after staying up drinking mead with the townsfolk. One of them, Filnjar, had noticed Levi's fine hand-crafted ebony armor. After some haggling, Levi had eventually traded some stamina potion for a couple of Filnjar’s ebony ingots.
He looked up out the window. It was still early, as the birds outside were just beginning to sing. Levi sat up for a moment, then stood as he noticed Rodmar sharpening his blade. They gave each other a silent nod before Levi picked up his armor and the ebony ingots and quietly stepped outside toward the forge where a workbench sat. “I should have plenty of time to make a few improvements before we depart,” he thought.
He looked up out the window. It was still early, as the birds outside were just beginning to sing. Levi sat up for a moment, then stood as he noticed Rodmar sharpening his blade. They gave each other a silent nod before Levi picked up his armor and the ebony ingots and quietly stepped outside toward the forge where a workbench sat. “I should have plenty of time to make a few improvements before we depart,” he thought.