Here's the next part; 
His mind was thumping with pain as if taken a beating by a tenfold of Hobbes, his eyes hurt from the light of the lanterns dotted along the streets and his feet felt heavy as if his legs were turned into stone. The beer clouded his eyes and with each clumsy step he took, his foot got stuck in every single possible crack in the brick road under him, constantly tripping him to his knees. He peered around the dimly lit street. It took him a while to see things clearly, but once his eyes had adjusted and his mind cleared he could focus long enough to make out the features of the big doors of the main gate out of the town. He was suddenly overcome by a powerful feeling of nausea and hunched over, grabbing his stomach. In doing so he tipped the mug of beer he had been holding. He was disgusted at the feeling of the now warm beer running down his stomach and down his right leg. The earlier events of the evening came creeping back into his mind as he stared down into the empty mug. His head was hit by a sudden pulse of pain as the face of the mayor took shape in his mind. She had been flirting with him all night, but that was her ways. Always flirting. Teasing. A simple man as him could never get her, hells, no man seemed good enough for her, he thought. The flame of a nearby torch cast it light over his face, licking it as he stood there like a buffoon, smiling, fantasizing about the beautiful mayor. Then, just as the effects of the beer began to cease, he was hit by a pain worse than anything before as the image of yet another event earlier in the evening took shape. It was the face of the mayor, but this time she was furious and she looked wet. Now he jumped back a yet again in his mind, this time it was the image of himself standing there looking like a fool but now with the mug of beer and the mayor beside him looked even more angry than before. Now it all came back… he… poured beer… on the mayor? As he came to the realization he suddenly felt very sick and had to crouch down on one knee and throw up. As he did, he felt his consciousness slipping away and he passed out.
He didn’t know what the time was when he woke up, but he felt sober again. He turned over on his back and stared at the sky. It was still dark, maybe early morning. He turned around on his belly and pushed his hands against the ground to get up when he nudged the beer mug with his hand as it was laying on the ground before him. Now everything came back, how he made a fool out of himself… His face turned red, due to both a bit of rage and a lot of shame as he quickly grabbed the beer mug of the ground and stormed up on his feet and walked towards the gate. He ran towards the gate when he was suddenly hit by the feeling of nausea yet again and he stumbled the last few steps towards the gate doors, slamming his shoulder against them, making a loud booming noise as they flew open. He crashed out on the meadow in front of the gates on the other side. The beer mug flew out of his hand and came to a stop after rolling a few feet away from him. He hastily crawled towards it, grabbing it and clasping it hard in his hand in anger. He was never going to let himself be a fool again, especially in front of her. He stretched his arm out and was just about to let the mug fly when he noticed them; the long trail of torches that was slowly getting closer to the town along the road approaching it. He saw perhaps fifty torches but only a few of the people that made up this ghastly parade were carrying torches, so they were sure to number a lot more than that. After an hour of watching the trail of people the first few of the mysterious travellers passed him by. The sun had started to rise and in the new light he got a good look on their faces; sooth and dirt covered their faces, some smeared with dried blood. Their clothes were in the same condition and in addition to the ragged clothes some were wearing crudely wrapped bandages. As they made their way past him, he could not help but to lower his head – he could not bear to look in their faces. He had seen the same faces many times before; the children were crying, the women had tear filled eyes but did not dare to cry not to upset their children even more and the men who looked equally saddened but too proud to cry. For their family’s sake. Amidst all the crying and screaming he could make out a message that chilled him to the bones: “Oakvale is burning”…
