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> They're at an Inn in the lands of Whitekeep, but do not sleep. When asked why, the human merely states that sleep scares them to death. Ever since evil pretending to be heroes, stole their brother's life. -- Anon Guest

[AN: Whitekeep's just one region in all of Alfarell. For most of the history, it was a quiet little Earldom that nobody cared about]

Bors was a man of rituals and superstition. If there was a day that he failed to don a protective charm, it was a day where he was laid up and incapable. He even took the time to ward his sleeping arrangements on the days where he _had_ to sleep.

Betterment honestly believed that it was some kind of stoic warrior thing. No matter how often they berated the team's Fighter, he growled, "I have my reasons."

As the team's healer, they had had enough. "Are those reasons in any way related to giving me more work than I need?" the Hellkin nagged. "There's enough trouble in the world without you and your exhaustion making everything more difficult."

"I _have_ my _reasons_," repeated Bors.

Their Sorcerer, Valorie, looked up from her own studies. "If you don't tell us what it is, we're not helping you beat your exhaustion any more. Betterment's had enough of your shit. Melody's had enough of your shit. _I've_ had enough of your shit. Fucking talk to us for a change. Token Human."

"Gentle reminder, Bors," said Melody as she tuned her lute. "We're in Whitekeep. They're much kinder to Hellkin here. So we don't need you for verisimilitude."

"Basically," said Valorie. "Talk to us or get the fuck out."

Bors glared down his Hellkin crew, then transferred his hatred to a small charm he'd recently added to his pommel. He tore that off and threw it into the hearth. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll tell you of the last time I let down my guard..."

Bors, like most Adventurers, had had a shitty childhood. Poverty, hardship, disasters, and whatnot. He had been in charge of his baby brother amongst a rising heap of other duties and tasks. And, like a lot of kids in such a predicament, along came a hero.

Or so they claimed.

The details were unclear, because Bors had fallen sick with a dreadful malady for most of it. By the time he got better, the village was a much better place, _but_... his baby brother was gone.

His father showed him the fresh grave, and blamed the hero.

Bors spent the rest of his life there learning how to battle, so he could find this evil 'hero' and avenge his brother's death.

"I'm still looking for that asshole," said Bors. "And I dare not sleep until I know he's dead. I have _no_ idea if he remembers me, or what kind of foul sorcery he might enact when I allow myself a moment of weakness."

"That's... dumb," said Melody.

"Wait. This illness," said Valorie. "What were the symptoms?"

"Nausea, vomiting, a persistent cough, the sore throat and breathing might have been related. My guts hurt all the time and my hands and feet always felt like I'd cut my circulation off. Da did what he could, but his medicine always made it worse." Bors laughed. "Weird thing... before I got sick? All I could think of was taking my brother Taadl and running off with the Adventurer."

"That sounds a hell of a lot like arsenic poisoning," said Betterment. "Are you _sure_ your brother died?"

"If I was writing this," said Melody, "I'd believe your father betrayed you and tried to poison both of you. Then the Adventurer saved who he could."

"I still won't know until I find him," grumbled Bors.

Betterment held up a palm, "Who else votes we tie this maniac down and _make_ him fucking sleep?"

[Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@adi_botica?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Adrian Botica</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/a-large-white-house-sitting-in-the-middle-of-a-forest-_K4d19tmLQU?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Unsplash</a>]

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