LIGHT OF HAPPINESS

The Warhound had miraculously made it through the grinder of war.

When the order came to bare down on the demons with the full unrestrained warfare which Atlas had perfected, he did so without question. It hearkened back to the days of his past, where he was truly a ferocious commander. The path of destruction he had done had swiftly liberated many towns, but made him no friends with former Shadowfall affiliates. Those who harbored or provided aide to their enemies, where dealt with swiftly.

But all of that was over, and now the Hound was merely a relic of the past. At least for now. There would be no wars to be fought for some time, and with that he would need to adjust to civilian life. There was no grand plan for him to work within. Instead, he was but simply a man trying to navigate the world no less wise than the common beggar. It was both fustrating and liberating. And as he walked through the festival, he carried with him an air of thoughtfulness.

What would be his new purpose?