When Gods Stir

Meanwhile, Adika wandered deeper into the village, stumbling upon a small, dimly lit tavern. The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air as he stepped inside. A few tired villagers glanced up from their drinks, their eyes showing a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"Looking for something?" the barkeep asked, wiping down the bar with a rag that had clearly seen better days. "What's your business with the gods?"

"Just a little work," Adika replied casually, leaning against the bar. "Heard some talk about gods wandering these parts. Thought I'd check if there's any truth to it."

The barkeep smirked, pouring a tankard of ale. "Truth? Around here, the only truth is that gods are cruel and unpredictable. They've abandoned us, and we're left to survive on our own. If you're hunting one, you're either brave or foolish—or maybe both."

Adika raised an eyebrow, interested. "Foolishness has its uses. Got any leads?"