Preparing for war part 2

Macloren woke his neck and head had absorbed some of the cold from his saddle that he had used as a pillow and he could smell the ram’s sweat that had soaked in to its underside, he could barely move the freezing chill had gone to every one of his joints and a delicate frost had settled on his armor.
He forced strength in to his limbs and threw him self in to a sitting position black spots rushed over his eye as the blood in his head rushed to the rest of his body struggling to give its warmth to the cold limbs.
Macloren felt trapped by his blanket that had become ridged in the night’s air and made a sound like autumn leaves crunching underfoot as he pulled it of his body
He could not open his write eye and the sensation made him hold his breath with instant worry almost as soon as the feeling had come over him it had been dispelled by his realization that he no longer had the eye the sensation of feeling was just a phantom response to a mind still partly residing In the dream world.
There was nothing good about this morning Vaknors words were still there In the back of his mind and would sting like malt vinegar in a forgotten wound when ever he tried to cast his mind back.
“Dam him what did he no who died and made him the one to tell the fist of retribution how to inspire his men”.
The cruel words he had spoken to Kaylaruna still danced in the back of his mind and macloren looked at the five empty bottles of Whisky surrounding him some stuck in the sand like the defensive stakes at his back and others just littered by his side and realized that sleep had come to him a great expense.
He was saving the dark black whisky for the road ahead as an ailment for the bitter cold he had paid over the odds for the potent stuff knowing that Osborn Daniels was a master distiller and had developed a way to duplicate whisky the way nature makes rain evaporating the yeast liquid in to a vapor then condensing it back In to a liquid a man who was destined for great things, his son Jack was keen and had already mastered the prosess surly this skill would see the youngster threw his life.
Macloren started thumbling with the closest bottle realizing there was about half a cup still in the strange square cast glass container.
He let the liquid poor down his throat and hit the back of his neck a rush of warmth fused with his tongue and his good eye came to life he no longer felt as cold and decided it was fuel another for breakfast.
When the Paladin stood he put his back at full extension lifting his chest to take a deep breath of the cold morning air and realized that his hole site was engulfed in fog he had fist assumed it was a remnant his slumber then cast it aside as a nasty aftermath of his drinking, but when he studied it the fog had lay heavy like a swollen pillar of smoke pushed over on its side, he could make out the pale gray of the day chasseing the night away and new soon Valiance keep would be awake.

Macloren makes his way over to his ram and realize it is still sleeping despite his noisy clumsy steps and the loud profanities he keeps shouting at his head for not letting him take simple steps.
When Macloren reaches the head he understands why the beast cannot be woken besides hit bucket of water is the last bottle of whisky and Mac starts to remember making a start at his apology to the white fleased charger with the offer of the black liquid.
“It appears I did not drink alone last night “.
Macloren says to him self.
“I hope that’s all that happened”.

it would seam that Macloren the alchoholic is making a return! thing's must indeed be bad if he is turning to the bottle again...

great story though, I realy get the impresion of waiking up outside after a heavy night of drinking.

What do you mean?
Louïse is looking at the lord whit a questionable face. She is holding some cheese, bread and some coffee. “I thought you good use this. I saw you out here most be cold.” She hands Macloren the coffee.
Macloren looks mad at Louïse not happy the girl heard that remark. “You always listen in on your lord.” Smacking the coffee to the side and looking mad at the girl. Louïse never expected a reaction like that and toke a step back. Her Tabard now covered whit coffee. She looks down at it and looks up to Macloren. Suddenly she screams. “You idiot I just cleaned it. You know how much work that is?” She looks very mad and her head turns all red. “Now I get why Kay is crying all night. You’re a big jerk.” She turns around and runs off.
Macloren rubs his head. The girls screaming did not make his head feel any better. “Girls…”

Macloren wrote:it would seam that Macloren the alchoholic is making a return! thing's must indeed be bad if he is turning to the bottle again...

great story though, I realy get the impresion of waiking up outside after a heavy night of drinking.

A return?