Beagle’s Blot Three | Over Adunas

Confidence. It’s a wonderful thing. That is, until it’s blown away by the sour breath of reality. I am no adventurer.

Buoyed as I was by the false bravado of my manly pursuits in the employ of the inn, the frail and inflated expectations I had of myself came to be well short of requirements. For all the hammering and sawing; sweat and toil; boldness and bravado; and underneath the shallow veil, I was still a soft son of the city. The residents of that decrepit old inn may have bought my displ...