Dost thou not know thy body grows weary after the splendor and fruits of Prague? The village, be it as beautiful as the maiden's eye on a cool winters morn, may also have the bite of the Grey Wulf of the same eve. Nay shall we entertain the dancing thoughts of another eve spent in turbulent excess, for as one's body grows weary, one's mind grows weak. Nay. It be time, for the Wizard, the Medic, and the Knight to venture forth and sequester lodgings and rest our weary bones before they fade into nothingness, and leave our souls to wander the halls of Vallhalla without a companion...without a love...without a purpose... We lay our heads down for rest, at the Hostel Maerlyn, long lost of its namesake and suitor, but the markings of many a
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