Voaer

Life blows.

Well, not “blows” blows, of course, because the gods know you could be using some of that right now. I mean, we could say “life sucks”, or “life’s a ****”, but you’ve tried both and, to be honest, you wouldn’t mind a bit of either right now.

The jail cell was dirty and cramped when the guards shoved you in here, and things haven’t improved much since you were last conscious a few minutes ago. The pile of straw in the corner smells like something drenched in **** just died there recently, and seeing how you don’t see any sanitary devices around these parts, chances are you probably wouldn’t be too far off with that guess. Your complimentary “room mates” aren’t exactly your first choice either: there’s this sullen guy in one corner in black and another new guy they just dragged in. Great.

You don’t suppose the other cells have it any better either. There’s this creepy elf in the opposite cell with a bloodied blindfold over his eyes who keeps smiling to himself while a nervous gnome keeps pacing up and down and muttering and chewing at this fingertips and generally doing everything he can to aggravate your hangover even more. If only you knew that you’ll be stuck with these people, you probably wouldn’t have polished off that last round of drinks…

It was all grossly unfair anyway. What did you do to deserve this? All you did was chat up the wrong girl, that’s all. It wasn’t as if she was anything special either; you’ve had better. Huh. Now that you think about it, it probably wasn’t such a good idea to tell her that. Or, for that matter, that you didn’t intend to stay too long in her general vicinity after the deed was done. Still.

Well, more than enough time to feel miserable later. Go make some friends or something!