[IC] Feast of Thanks Year Two

[Lance]

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Fanfare and cheer reverberated all throughout the guild hall of Galas'nor. The turkeys were soundly defeated and their colossal leader, Dave, lay dead in the courtyard. But the aftermath was just as rowdy and chaotic as the fighting itself, or perhaps even more so given the nature of Galas'nor. Guild members from all around were immediately put to work tending to the wounded and preparing a great feast, but Lyolf would have none of it. He was drained both physically and mentally from pushing his body's limits against this most recent ordeal. And as soon as the fighting ended, he collapsed in an unceremonious heap atop a makeshift bed of turkey feathers, plucked from the giant turkey's unmoving carcass.

The elf sighed weakly, but contentedly, allowing his body and mind some well-earned rest. Exhaustion was too weak a word to describe how he felt. Couple that with the mind-numbing migraine now plaguing his mind and he was completely and utterly "out of it."

"Not gonna join them?" a certain raven teased after some time had passed. "...You're joking," Lyolf wanly responded. Even now, he still retained enough strength and reason to respond appropriately to his familiar's odd sense of humor.

"Of course I am, but still..." Uli cocked her head slightly, obviously trying to think up a reasonable excuse.

"Aha~" the familiar suddenly burst out, giving the raven-equivalent of a smile basked in triumph. "All the food'll run out if you don't join them so-."

"I doubt that." Lyolf interjected and the raven could only stare at him silently and in annoyance, unable to argue back. "But..."

"I see your point," he completed, while getting up and leaving the comfort of his turkey bed. He then turned towards the loud, boisterous commotion known only as Galas'nor, and began slowly walking towards it, a raven perched atop his shoulder, and an eager gleam in his eye.

"Let's join in."