We get the lack-of-picture. And so, The Order of the Stick defeated the horde of enemies with savvy, panache, and a splash page featuring Elan's sparkly cloak. Predictably, there were no further encounters preventing them from later-that-nighting their way to the heroes celebration party.
The city pulled out all the stops for the victorious adventurers. There were ice sculptures, pony rides, and games. There was treasure, dancing, treasure dancing (a big crowd watched Haley develop this new art), a Xykon piñata, and of course, food and booze.
"Haf a bit o' beer," Durkon urged Vaarsuvius, cheeks ruddy with mirth.
"Thank you, but most alcohol is not to my taste."
"Fine elven wine?" offered a partygoer who'd overheard. "My uncle owns a vineyard in the homelands and picks the grapes by hand."
Vaarsuvius accepted a sample from the stranger, making Durkon laugh at their reaction of unexpected approval.
"Hey, Belkar, hold up a minute. I've been meaning to talk to you."
Belkar had been next in line for a keg stand and frowned at Roy's timing, but nevertheless allowed Roy to lead him to a private area to speak alone.
"This better be good enough to justify my continued sobriety."
"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it: when I died, I spoke to the Oracle as a ghost and he gave me a prophecy. About you."
"That I would drink three times my body weight in Dwarven beer and impregnate every hooker in town tonight?" Belkar joked. Roy appeared troubled.
"That you would draw your last breath ever before the Southern New Year."
Belkar stared blankly at Roy for a long moment.
"You're telling me I'm going to bite the big one by the end of the week?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Another long pause.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
A deep sigh escaped Roy's chest.
"I was afraid interfering might make it worse somehow. And, honestly, I assumed you would die gloriously in battle. When Xykon took you down in the Final Dungeon, I thought that was it. But you're still here. I'm sorry, Belkar. I truly am."
Belkar's voice and face remained expressionless as he attempted to absorb this information.
"Why are you telling me now?"
The question took Roy by surprise and he struggled to form a response.
"I guess… because if I were in your position, I would want to know. So I could have the chance to be intentional with my remaining time. I also wanted to tell you how much our friendship—is friendship the right word?—how much your company means to me."
"Before I die," Belkar clarified.
"Right," Roy agreed uncomfortably. He had never encountered a silence so awkward. Belkar didn't appear to be experiencing any sort of emotional reaction yet. "Do you need anything?"
"Nah. I'll be okay."
"Seriously? Are you sure?"
The ranger's expression remained unchanged.
"Yeah. It makes sense. Deep down, I always knew I'd live fast and die young. No big."
Roy wasn't completely convinced, but Celia had found him on the balcony.
"There you are," she smiled, kissing Roy's cheek. "My hero! I've been looking for you, aaand I've got something downstairs for *~us~*"
"I'm actually in the middle of—"
"Nothing. We're good," Belkar interrupted firmly. "Catch you later, Roy."
Belkar watched Roy slowly release his hesitation and join Celia elsewhere.
For Belkar, the rest of the event smeared into a numb haze.
He didn't remember talking to anyone, or drinking, or participating in any games.
He remembered holding a full cup in his hand and staring, unfocused, standing around, wandering through the rooms of the party and the streets outside, observing others without being fully present.
Until suddenly he realized his collection of moments had grown into hours, the party was winding down, and he was completely sober and alone.