The Arctic Journey ( A DnD Story)

A Horrible Hangover

I awoke in the middle of the street with little to no recollection of what had happened the night before. Arcenist found me and helped me to my feet. I blew chunks on the ground next to us. Arcenist seemed disgusted, but still supported my powerless body.
"Why *hiccup* was I left here again?" I croaked out.
"Umm... We... Forgot you." He clumsily replied. If I wasn't having a migraine and puking, I would have probably slapped him. But, he was basically carrying me. Right about then we were confronted by the priest in the last entry and he seemed quite concerned we weren't out of town yet. I told him we would be out of town as soon as we obtained supplies. Arcenist carried me to the weapon shop where Frank, Z'all, and a weird looking breed of elf were waiting.
"Who is that?" I turned to Arcenist.
"Remember, he was there for the barfight?" Arcenist asked.
"I don't remember anything last night."
"Well, Frank started a fight over nothing and it got pretty heated. Luckily, Oric stepped in with his wizardry. Saved some of us broken bones," he said as he looked toward the elf. I didn't really know what race of elf he was, only that he was for sure not a frost elf. His hair had a darker color than mine, and his skin seemed almost a yellow-white. He carried himself with a dignified manner. And the spell book he kept tucked under his arm told me he was definitely a wizard, not a sorcerer like Z'all. I chatted with the strange elf and learned that he was a traveling wizard who wanted to study the magic of Arcenist's keyblade. He seemed trustworthy enough, so I complied with his wanting to tag along for the journey. We then headed for the marketplace and I used my share of the gold not on weapons or fancy potions, but on camping equipment. At least one of us had to be responsible for it, so might as well be me. I haggled with the stall owner and got a decent price. At about half-past ten, we set out. We were met by a traveling merchant at about noon. Z'all seemed set on getting potions, which he failed to find at decent prices in the city. He kept getting frustrated as the merchant set his prices in stone.
"Potions are potions. They are expensive by nature," I stated.
I heard a mutter under Z'all breath to the salesman.
"It's her time of the month."
I turned to face him, making it clear I was angry.
"Take it back!" I demanded.
"Hey calm down, it's just a joke," Z'all replied.
He probably just said that to get on the salesman's good side. Tactical? Yes. Did I care? No. I reared back and gave Z'all a good kick to the stomach. He looked angrily at me and warned me not to try that again. I do not fear him. I have never feared him. Take away his spells and he is nothing. Normally I'm forgiving of Z'all's shenanigans, but this was too far. I stood my ground and gave a defiant look.
"You going to do something about it?" was screaming with the look I gave him. The salesman used this diversion to leave, not wanting to deal with the party anymore.
"Ah, and there he goes. Gods, leave it to the woman of the group."
I gave Z'all a look and he backed down. I'm still quite angry with him, even now. We all set up for the night, me wanting the first "watch." "Watch"as in "writing in my diary."