Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What is this nerd shit?” Husk asked as he took another sip of his beer.

The hotel residents sat around a table in the dining room. It was a peaceful night for the most part. The fireplace burned warmly and Alastor had put on some soft jazz on the radio in the corner. A chandelier was hung over the table, some of the lightbulbs flickered and Niffty missed a couple of cobwebs. Everyone was seated around a dining table that was dressed with a fine periwinkle tablecloth. Charlie stood at the head of the table, with the Player’s Handbook for Dungeons & Dragons fifth edition in her hands and a hopeful look on her face. She had just finished explaining the rules. “A team building exercise!” she exclaimed. “What better way to learn how to cooperate with other people than to go on adventures with them?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow and pulled out a pink piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Is this what this lovely invitation was for?” The writing on the paper had Charlie’s tidy cursive with a formal greeting and her royal signature.

Angel was sitting next to Husk recumbent in his chair, knees curling over the armrest. “Wha- invitation? All I got was a text message!” he said and showed his phone’s screen. The text message read, “pleese meet me in the dining room @ 8 pm 2nite. i habve a good idea 4 a new chance @ redemption! :3”

Charlie sighed, understanding Angel’s frustration. “Well, Alastor doesn’t own a cellphone, so…?” She shrugged, but felt guilty. She didn’t want to seem like she was playing favorites.

Angel put his phone back in his pocket. “Whatevah,” he said. “D&D is easy. Ya just roll the dice, say somethin’ insane, and the DM sighs,” he said with a sly smile.

Charlie lit up at that remark. “Oh! You’ve played before?”

“Oh yeah,” Angel replied. “My girl buddy Cherri Bomb was into this back when she was alive during the Satanic Panic, and she showed it to me. Gotta say, I wasn’t takin’ it seriously at first, but it’s actually a pretty good time.” He sat up and leaned his elbow on the table. “And you’re gonna be the DM, Charlie?”

Charlie and Vaggie answered in unison, though their tones were slightly different. “That’s right!” Vaggie said it with a soft and encouraging tone in her voice. Charlie practically jumped in enthusiasm as she spoke. Vaggie continued as her starry-eyed girlfriend simply beamed in excitement, “We both talked about it and we think this will be a good way to get everyone to work together and have fun doing it. It’s worth a try.”

Pentious’ eyes darted back and forth, looking slightly skeptical about the idea. He sat arms crossed and shoulders clenched when he asked, “And a ‘DM’ isssss…?” His tongue hissed sharply at the last syllable.

“Dungeon Master,” Charlie answered. “Basically, I play all of the non-player characters - or NPCs - and guide you through the story! I’m like the story’s narrator. We’ll be starting in a famous city called Waterdeep.”

“Hmm…” Pentious scratched the bottom of his chin, looking upwards in contemplation. “Can I make minions in thisss game?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes!” Charlie replied as she started making her rounds to give a copy of the game manual and a character sheet to everyone. The books were clearly used copies; still bound firmly, but the edges were tattered and the occasional stain marked some of the pages. The front cover bore the title “ D&D Player's Handbook: Everything a player needs to create heroic characters for the world's greatest roleplaying game ” and featured an image of a warrior woman ready to strike her mighty blade in the face of a fearsome giant. 

Niffty’s fingers tapped against the table in a circular rhythm as she giggled mischievously when given the material. “Hehehe! A dungeon? Will I be able to punish some bad boys?” She paused her train of thought as she flipped through the pages of the Player’s Handbook frantically. Suddenly, her single red eye widened when she came to a certain realization. “Or I could finally BE a bad boy! How fun!”

Angel slipped a character sheet from Charlie as she passed by him. “I already know what class I’m playin’. Cherri tells me bards have a reputation in D&D,” he said, single eyebrow raised and lips wearing a suggestive smirk.

Alastor accepted Charlie’s sheet and book. He looked over the book, disappointed at its worn state. Surely the princess of Hell herself could have gotten better copies? Then again, it was rare to find any kind of media from the living world. Skimming it over, he asked Angel, “And what kind of reputation would that be?”

“Glad ya asked, Smiles,” Angel responded as he leaned his chin onto the palm of his hand. “Where there’s music, there’s horny motherfuckers. We bards are known for playin’ both. That's what a way with words’ll getcha, if ya catch my meanin’.” His snapped his two lower hands and gave the Radio Demon a pair of finger guns. 

Alastor’s face hardened as he glared at Angel. “Nonsense,” he retorted, frustrated at the notion. “A proper ‘bard’ is a showman, a teller of stories, a connoisseur of music, much like--”

Niffty interrupted, slamming her book down and throwing her hands in the air. “A radio show host!” she shouted.

“Precisely!” Alastor continued. He twirled his cane as he relaxed back into his seat. “And you do the art form of entertainment a disservice by tainting it with this sexualized drivel.”

“Ha! Prude,” Angel scoffed as he filled out his character sheet. “And ‘sides, my ‘sexualized drivel’--” he enunciated the words with mocking air quotes and made a deliberately poor imitation of Alastor’s transatlantic accent “-- made me a star.”

Alastor tilted his head, unimpressed with Angel’s posturing. Husk sighed disapprovingly at Angel. He took the offered character sheet from Charlie and set it on the table before him. “Angel,” Husk started, “you don’t have to keep up with the fake bullshit. Aren’t these games supposed to be about escapism? You have the freedom here to pick any role, and you’re really not going to take advantage of that?”

“I, well…” Angel stumbled. Husk’s words seemed to resonate within him. Angel paused for a moment, looking down deep in thought with a furrowed brow and a curled lip. For only a few seconds, he looked introspective, but then his careless smirk returned to his face when he simply shrugged. “C’mon, ya know me! Every version of me has a flawless body. That’s why I’ll be…” He briefly looked back down at his sheet and finished the last lines of his character, “...a changeling bard!”

“Oh, and Angel!” Charlie interjected. “We’re starting at level four, so you get to pick your subclass, too! You’ll find bard subclasses at page--”

“College o’ Glamour!” Angel said as he put his finger in the air. “Like I said, this ain’t my first D&D game, toots.”

Charlie gave two thumbs up at Angel. “Great! Erm, everyone else, what are we thinking about for characters?” She started to pan her head around the table, gauging each individual’s expression. She had already spoken with Vaggie about their plan: Vaggie would wait until everyone else created their characters so that she could make something that would complement the rest of the party smoothly -- likely a support class. 

Vaggie sat next to Charlie patiently, holding her hand and smiling sweetly at her. Husk was still drinking his beer, looking through the handbook, so at least he was considering the idea of participating. Pentious was taking notes on the side of his character sheet, reading and writing diligently. Charlie was happy to see Pentious getting so invested. She watched him licking his lips with that forked tongue as he thought hard of who his character would be. Alastor looked disinterested, wearing his usual fake smile. She couldn’t read his expression -- it was always hard to, even when one would focus solely on his eyes. For now, the Radio Demon seemed to be doing the same thing the princess was in that moment; simply observing. He wasn’t a hotel client, so he had no obligation to participate in the game, but Charlie wanted him to choose to join. It would help him, she thought, to open up and get a less grim hobby than what he usually considers “entertainment.” Finally, Charlie caught sight of Niffty looking genuinely nervous. She was biting her nails and shaking slightly and she flipped the pages back and forth. Her single eye zipped around in all directions.

“Oh no, Niffty, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked. Her voice was deep with concern. She worried she put poor Niffty in an uncomfortable situation somehow. “You’re part of the staff, so you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to play. I do!” Niffty cried out. “I just don’t know which to pick, Charlie!” Her speech started to get faster, sentences running on. “I read the whole book right now and I know I want to be a drow bad boy but on one hand the soul knife rogue sounds great for stabbing things but the wild magic sorcerer--”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Niffty!” Vaggie said. She slowly walked up to Niffty and put her hand on her shoulder, trying to calm down the scatterbrained maid. “Slow down. One thought at a time.”

“Wait,” Charlie chimed in. “Niff, you just finished the entire book? Right now?!” 

Niffty nodded, slightly calmer, but still with a widened wet eye. 

Angel’s eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead, dumbfounded. He did indeed see her flipping through the book at an alarmingly fast pace. “But it’s like 300 pages long!”

Alastor let out a soft chuckle. “Our dear Niffty is a delightfully fast reader,” he said. This time, his smile seemed more genuine, mild and content. His comment seemed to calm down Niffty. She relaxed her shoulders and set her hands into her lap.

Charlie leaned down and smiled at Niffty. “Well, like I said, Niffty, we’re starting at level four!” She decided to test if Niffty really read and understood the contents of the book. “And you know what that means?”

Niffty wiped her tears away and grinned. “I can multiclass! Yes, yes!” She started to scribble down on her sheet. “Alright! I’m writing ALL about my drow bad boy! His name is Roachie, urchin background!” Charlie nodded and gave Niffty a hopeful look, but she stayed silent. She was just happy to see Niffty being cheered up so easily. Niffty continued describing her character.

Roachie was a dark elf orphan living on the streets of Waterdeep. He never knew his parents or his real name. The nickname was given to him by other street rats. Born a sorcerer, his magic is wild and unpredictable. It caused him many problems growing up, seeming to flare up at the worst moments. Between being a drow boy in the slums and having such raw, untamed magic that would explode at the most inconvenient times, Roachie was deeply ostracized by the citizens of Waterdeep. He made his living picking the pockets of wealthy nobles and the occasional arson or assassination job. He is loyal only to his next paycheck and people he grows fond of personally.

Charlie clapped enthusiastically. “That sounds great, Niffty!” she exclaimed as she gave the small demon a big hug. Niffty nuzzled her face into Charlie’s chest and giggled.

Angel nodded and gave Niffty four thumbs up. “Hey, Shorty, nice character. And I have my character ready to go, too. Here ya go, Charlie,” he said as he handed Charlie his sheet.

Vaez was a changeling bard of indeterminate gender who traveled from city to city, hoping to delight the people of Toril with their sensual love songs, but never settling down in one place for long. They graduated from the College of Glamour, studying the art of song from other fey beings. They changed their identity on a whim, only letting their close friends and business partners know their true identity. Sometimes they presented as a gruff bearded dwarf reciting poetry over a mug of ale, a busty slender elf maiden singing opera, a muscular orc roaring legends of old battles, or whatever the mood struck them at any given time.

Husk unceremoniously dropped a filled out character sheet in front of Charlie. “Oh! You’re done, Husk? So you ARE playing?” She heard him grumble as he sat back into his chair. Charlie looked over his sheet. “So you’re a tabaxi - one of the catfolk. A Great Old One warlock, okay. Gambler background, and your character’s name is… 

Husk was an elderly tabaxi man with a crippling gambling addiction and alcoholism. He ended up owing money to the wrong people, and his very soul was gambled away to the eldritch entities of the Far Realms. He was a tired old fart who just wanted to settle down with a cold beer, but his mysterious patron had other plans.

“Really, Husk?” Charlie sighed, seeing that Husk made a lazy self-insert, but she had no right to ask him to try harder.

“Look, I’ll play your game, princess, but don’t expect me to get creative, okay?” Husk said flatly. “I’ll just play as myself.”

Charlie looked through his sheet, feeling a bit puzzled. “If this character is supposed to be you, then why does it say that you gambled your soul away to a Great Old One of the Far Realms?”

A record scratch from the radio speakers in the corner, followed by a laugh track. Vaggie scowled at Alastor, whose smile seemed to be sharper than she had seen in a while. His chest bounced in silent laughter. She then looked back at Husk. He still looked disgruntled, drinking his beer. “What’s so funny?” Vaggie demanded from either of them.

Husk groaned. “Ask the guy laughing.”

Vaggie looked back at Alastor, who was giving the whole room a smug look. “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” he said, rubbing his fingers and thumb together. “Just a clever little reference to an inside JOKE between the two of us. A rather pathetic JOKE, if you ask me, but it brings back some delightful memories. Really, you had to have been there to get it. Well played, Husker, I do believe that made my night!”

Husk simply took another swig of his beer and flipped off the overlord, refusing to make eye contact. The rest of the hotel residents looked confused at the exchange.

Pentious finally broke his silence after setting his pen down. “I’ve finished as well, princesssss!” He held up his sheet, squaring his shoulders and sitting straight up like a soldier reporting for duty.

Charlie clapped, took the sheet from Pentious, and looked it over. “Oh, that’s great!” she shouted. “Let’s see. So your character has the ‘soldier’ background and…”

PX-1e was a mighty warforged battlemaster fighter who was built by a serpentine demonic inventor, architect of destruction, villain extraordinaire so powerful and evil that his name cannot be uttered. PX-1e was the inventor’s finest creation - a sentient weapon, a robot of devastation, and a soldier forged to bring terror. They were created to scour the lands of Toril, find artifacts of great power to return to its master, and strike fear into the hearts of the denizens of this world. Their master was truly a villain to be feared by all.

Angel couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Pfft! You too, Slithers?” he said with a chuckle between his words. “A snake demon who invented a scary robot? This is just obvious wish fulfillment.”

Pentious blushed and vehemently denied the accusation. “Abssssolutely not! I’m, er…” He stumbled on his words. “I d-don’t need a roleplaying game to be a ssssupervillain! I already am one! And PX-1e deserves proper respect! I worked- er, their masssster worked very hard on building them!”

Niffty mumbled something about ‘bad boys’ while Vaggie and Angel snickered at Pentious’ defense of his ego. Charlie shrugged off the teasing and said, “Well, with this hotel, we’ll make a superHERO out of you in no time, Pentious! You’ll see. After this campaign, you’ll see the good way is the right way! Right, Vaggie?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Vaggie turned her head up and she smiled at her girlfriend. She twirled her pen between her fingers, seemingly weighing her options. “Redemption, redemption… We need this exercise to work. I should keep everyone alive and kicking…” she thought out loud. “Hmm… the life cleric seems to be the most straightforward healer.” She whispered the word ‘redemption’ again and wrote something on her sheet. “Well, the drow are a historically evil culture. Here, take a look, sweetie. What do you think?”

Lorae was an acolyte of Eilistraee - drow goddess of love, music, joy, and an enemy to the wicked drow goddess Lolth. Lorae led a coven of Eilistraee worshippers in the drow city of Menzoberranzan. Eventually, the coven was caught and most were killed. Lorae led the survivors out of the Underdark and onto the surface world. They settled in the city of Waterdeep. Lorae hopes to redeem her people, to turn them away from Lolth’s tyrannical grasp and into the loving arms of Eilistraee.

“Awwww!” Charlie grinned and held her hands to her heart. She noticed the subtext of Vaggie’s choice in character and couldn’t help but blush. “I’m sure your character will redeem all the drow sinners! Just wait and see! Thanks for taking this seriously, hon.” Charlie pulled her lover into a tight hug and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She looked at Alastor, who was quiet for the last several minutes, watching the group in silence. “And what about you, Alastor?” Charlie asked.

Alastor hummed noncommittally. It took a moment for him to properly respond. “Yes, well, I did write a bit about my character. Here you are, my dear,” he said and handed the sheet to Charlie. He wore his everlasting smile across his face, but his bored eyes gave away his unenthusiasm.

Charlie gasped happily in response. “Oh my gosh, so you ARE going to play?” she asked, pleasantly surprised that the Radio Demon was actually going to play a roleplaying game with her. Niffty leaned her head onto Alastor’s arm. Reading his sheet, Charlie said aloud, “Okay, winged tiefling necromancer wizard, sage background…”

Alastor nodded. “The devils with wings can fly and have a bonus to intelligence. The sage background gives me proficiency in arcana and history.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. She noticed his sheet was meticulously optimized, but had nothing in the way of their character, not even their name. “Alastor, you wrote all about your character’s abilities, but nothing about who they are. I mean, what’s even their gender and name?”

“Ah…” Alastor tapped his claws on the purple tablecloth, one finger at a time. The sound was unusually loud for a nail hitting fabric. “I’ve been a man my whole existence. I might as well try being a woman for a change.” 

“And her name?” Charlie asked.

Alastor was silent for a few seconds, but kept tapping his nails on the table. “Dahlia,” he said, and stopped the motion of his fingers. “Lovely flowers, dahlias. A fitting name for a fair lady.”

“Like Rosie, sir?” Niffty asked.

Alastor gave Niffty a soft smile. “Yes indeedy!” he said warmly.

Charlie set Alastor’s character sheet down and filled in the spaces he left blank. “Alright, female tiefling named Dahlia. And her backstory, Alastor?”

“The sage background, dear,” he replied politely.

Charlie sighed. “I mean, who she is as a person. Do you need help coming up with her story? Stuff like where she came from, what her family is like, that sort of thing. I’d be thrilled to help!”

Alastor rolled his eyes and waved his hand flippantly. “Ah, all will be revealed in due time, Princess. Consider it a mystery to be solved. Dahlia is a secretive woman.”

Angel chuckled. “Ha! That’s a funny way of’ sayin’ ‘I didn’t come up with anything.’ You do you, Radio Daddy, go ahead and be a power gamin’ min-maxer.” 

“A what now?” Alastor asked with a skewed brow. “And never call me that ever again.”

“Someone who plays this game to be powerful, not to roleplay an actual character.” Angel leaned back into his chair and rested his feet on the table. “It’s fine, though. Every campaign has at least one of those. We’ve already checked so many boxes. Whiskers,” he pointed at Husk with one of his hands, “is the self-insert. You,” another hand pointed at Alastor, “are the power gamer. Hisser,” a third hand pointed at Pentious, “is the wish-fulfillment. And I,” the fourth and final hand pointed at his own face, “am the horny bard.”

“And what about me and Niffty?” Vaggie asked.

Angel shrugged and crossed all four of his arms. “Eh, remains to be seen. We’ll find out soon enough, right, Charlie?”

Charlie straightened out the character sheets and packed them neatly into a plastic folder. “We will!” she cheered, lifting both hands into the air. “With all your characters done, we’ll start our first session tomorrow night, everyone! Vaggie, thank you so, so, so, so much for helping me out with this! Alastor, I’m kinda surprised you’ll be playing with us. I didn’t think you’d even be interested…” She scratched her hair. “N-not that I’m complaining!”

Alastor’s smile widened as he replied, “But of course, my dear. I’m not just your business partner. I’m your friend.” Vaggie looked at him with suspicion. Alastor noticed, and his eyes briefly glowed a brighter red. Vaggie blinked, and it was back to normal.

Charlie squealed excitedly and shook her arms in jazz hands. “Well, that’s it, everyone! Fuck yes, this is amazing! Okay, I’ll see you all back here tomorrow!”

With that, Alastor simply faded back into the shadows with a green glow of his magic briefling lingering in the air. Pentious slithered back to his room alone, eager to cuddle his egg bois and tell them all about PX-1e. Angel followed Husk back to the bar and said, “A tabaxi gambler named Husk? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, dude…” The spider’s and the cat’s conversation trailed off as they left the dining room together.

Niffty sprung from her chair and pulled out a knife. “Bug hunting time!” she whispered to herself.

Vaggie stood, and took Charlie’s hand in hers. She looked at her with that single eye and caressed her cheek. “I think this is a good idea, babe. Probably better that what I came up with as a ‘team building exercise.’”

Charlie gave her peck on the nose. “Bonding through adventures minus the danger? Yeah, I think this’ll do. Come on, let’s get to sleep.”

Vaggie wrapped her hand around her lover’s waist as they made their way back to their bedroom. “Just sleep, huh?” she asked with a playful smirk. “All this talk of adventure, I thought you were feeling more adventurous than just going to sleep.”

Charlie’s face turned pink and she laughed while they walked down the quiet hallway. Once they reached the door to their room, Charlie responded in a low voice, “Oh! More than one kind of adventure, huh? C’mere, you!” She kissed her girlfriend deeply and slammed the bedroom door shut, but their flirtatious laughing could be heard through the cracks of the door.

Down the hall, Niffty and Keekee passed by the door chasing a particularly fast cockroach together. “Roll initiative, bug huntress!” she said to the cat.

Chapter Text

Charlie stood alongside Vaggie in the dining room, both of them meticulously setting up the table for tonight’s D&D game. It was quiet in the hotel for now, but if things went Charlie’s way, the hotel residents would be laughing and cheering in joy soon enough. The fireplace was cold, but the radio was playing some Evanescence, a remnant of musical taste from Charlie’s adolescent goth phase. She was using standard character tokens for everyone but Pentious, who gave her a miniature golden robot figurine to serve as a suitable token for his warforged. Charlie’s DM screen was a simple cutout from a cardboard box with a poorly drawn dragon on the back, scribbled on from a green crayon.

The door swung open. A tiny demon came scuttling in and lept into a chair. “Alright, I’m ready!” Niffty exclaimed. Charlie squealed with her, happy with her enthusiasm. Vaggie simply grinned.

Shortly after Niffty’s entrance came several other soon-to-be players. Angel was juggling his own set of custom hot pink dice. Husk brought in a bottle of vodka. Vaggie frowned at the sight of the alcohol. “Is drinking a good idea right now?” she asked with concern. “You might want to stay sober in this kind of game.”

“Pfft! Drunk D&D is the best!” Angel shouted with a grin. He fell into his seat and curled his legs over the armrest, sitting sideways on the chair. 

Husk set the bottle on the table, along with several shot glasses. “I might need to be at least a little buzzed if I’m going to survive ‘adventures’ with this lot,” he said gruffly and took a seat. 

Angel turned his attention to the radio. “Is that… Evanescence?” he asked in surprise. “You’re all sunshine and rainbows, Charlie. And I thought Vaggie wouldn’t be into this.”

Charlie and Vaggie laughed in unison. “I, uh, had a bit of a phase when I was a rebellious kid. And hey, I still like this stuff!” Charlie replied. “Well, I like all kinds of music, really, but this gets me feeling all nostalgic.”

Pentious and one of his egg bois walked in. Pentious came with a straight spine and squared shoulders. He was being escorted by one of his minions. The egg boi pulled out a chair for him. “In ya go, boss!” it said. When Pentious took a seat, the egg creature promptly left the room. Pentious remained silent for a few moments, keeping his chin up, trying his best to look regal. “Let the gamessss begin,” he said with a note of pretension in his tone.

Alastor was the last to show up. He glared at the radio, disgusted with the noises of the 21st century dirtying the air of the room. He snapped his fingers, and the radio shook, switching promptly playing The Ink Spots. Alastor still glared, but this time at the cold fireplace. He snapped his fingers again. The fireplace roared to life with a brilliant green flame. “Much better!” he said contently, and took a seat in the fanciest chair in the room.  

Charlie handed out everyone’s respective character sheets. “Now that we’re all here, are we ready to start our first game?” she asked with a high-pitched tone of enthusiasm.

Angel responded with four thumbs up. Husk and Alastor simply nodded. Vaggie hummed in approval. Pentious saluted, “Yes, ma’am!” And Niffty clapped her hands and said, “I’m ready to BE a bad boy!” and snickered.

“Fuck yes!” Charlie exclaimed, but quickly regained her composure. “I mean, uh… Excellent. Then let us begin.” She closed her eyes, cleared her voice, and lifted her index finger above, ready to give a proper narration. “Greetings, adventurers, to the campaign I have called ‘The Ghost of Captain Viscera’! Your adventure begins in The Mermaid’s Arms tavern in the city of Waterdeep, known to many as the Crown of the North. It is a sunny afternoon today. The fine tavern is bustling with business from all walks of life: merchants, dock workers, soldiers, and all manner of travelers coming to the City of Splendors. On such an afternoon in the best tavern in town, what are you doing?” She looked around the table, awaiting everyone’s response. “We’ll take turns. Everyone, please roll a d20 die. The highest roller goes first!”

Everyone did as the princess commanded. Charlie jotted down their names along with their results. “Vaggie 19, Angel 18, Niffty 11, Husk 8, Pentious 4, Alastor 3. That’s the order we’ll go in!” the princess yelled.

Vaggie spoke up as soon as Charlie was finished, eager to show her support. “Yes! Yes, Lorae is, uh…” She waved her hand in a circular motion in an attempt to speed up her thought process. “Hmm.”

A middle-aged drow woman with long white hair ignored the other patrons of the tavern, instead sitting in the corner with her nose buried in a book. She seemed shy, or simply too invested in her book to be aware of what exactly is happening around her. Her violet eyes focused only on what was right in front of her, paying her surroundings little mind.

Angel stretched all four arms, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his shoulders back. “Good thing I rolled so high,” he said with a wink. “You’re playin’ with a vet here. Vaez here is a changeling, so they can change their form whenever. Right now, they’re lookin’ like a satyr, y’know, one of those goat people. Allow me to set the stage for ya. Ahem…”

The stage in the Mermaid’s Arms was set, but only for one musician today. A lonesome satyr with curly brown hair and sporting a red mask played his violin on the stage. The crowd was paying him little mind at first, treating his performance as simple ambiance to the rest of the happenings of the tavern, but then it seemed a certain wave of inspiration overwhelmed the bard. He went from playing a soft melody to a fast-paced jingle on the violin. His hooves tapped on the wooden stage to set the rhythm. It got the crowd’s attention. The satyr burst into song.

And so did Angel Dust. He stood up and held one arm high in the air while the others pointed to his chest. In all his stardom spirit, he sang, “He spreads my cheeks, and he makes me scream. He's my number one daddy, gotta make him cream inside of m--”

“No,” Alastor interrupted. The radio above the fireplace playing classic jazz suddenly became much louder.

Charlie let out a loud and nervous laugh. “A-ha-alright, Angel, let’s just roll for performance, ‘kay?” She clasped her hands together and gave Angel a wide-eyed grin in a desperate attempt to keep her demand friendly.

“Fine, fine,” Angel responded as he slouched back into his chair. He crossed his arms smugly, seeming to enjoy having the power to get a rise out of those around him. “An’ with a plus 16 to performance, I’m pretty sure I got this one in the bag. Watch, and be amazed!” With that, he rolled a d20. The die spun around on the table and landed with the number 4 facing up. “See?!” Angel exclaimed. “May not be a nat 20, but that’s what I call a dirty 20. Ha!”

The crowd gathered, enamored with such a raunchy song loudening what was otherwise a quiet afternoon. The song ended, followed by a loud round of applause. The satyr bowed gracefully and humbly accepted tips from the audience. He packed up his violin, exited the stage, and took a seat at the bar.

Among the crowd was a young drow man with various scars and cheap tattoos scrawled on his skin. His eyes gushed at the satyr. What was going through his mind was anyone’s guess, but his wide eyes expressed that of a star-struck fan. He pushed through the crowd to chase down the satyr bard. The satyr was sipping from a tankard of ale, chatting with a tabaxi dressed in a simple white shirt and suspenders. The drow poked him and said in a frantic hushed whisper, “I loved your song!”

“Hmm?” the satyr swallowed the mouthful of ale and wiped his lips. With an appreciative smile, he replied, “Oh! Thanks.”

“C-can I have your autograph?!” the drow uttered. “For my collection!” He handed the satyr a filthy napkin that seemed to be stained with alcohol and… blood?

Angel Dust frowned. “Ew, really, Niff?”

Niffty chuckled. “Roachie wants his autograph!”

The bard cringed at the napkin handed to him. He reached into his pocket for a clean piece of parchment as they said, “Sure! Anything for a fan. And while we’re at it--” The brown hue of his skin and fur suddenly flashed a bright white. The fur receded, hooves turned to feet, brown curly hair straightened itself to a lanky white ponytail, and blue eyes changed to one solid white and one solid black. The satyr wasn’t a satyr after all, but a changeling. The bard signed the parchment with a fancy quill and gave it to the drow. “Name’s Vaez. Pleased t’meetcha.”

“Roachie.”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Roachie’s my name.”

The tabaxi sitting next to Vaez looked at the drow curiously. “What kind of name is Roachie?”

“Mine.” Roachie snickered and ran away.

Vaez and the tabaxi stared at each other in confusion. “Sorry about that, Husk,” Vaez said. “Fans, y’know?”

With Roachie scurrying off, he seemed to be replaced by another strange individual; a warforged - sentient constructs made from wood, clay, and metal - sat beside Husk. This warforged seemed to be made mostly of brass and copper, with a flashlight functioning as a singular eye. They sported a massive halberd and a heavy crossbow slung across the dusty cloak on their back. A loud thud sounded as the warforged fell into their seat. Warforged are an exceptionally rare sight, but not unheard of. The busty red-haired dwarf barmaid cleaning the countertop gazed at the warforged inquisitively. “Can I get you something to drink, or…?” she asked, looking stumped. What on Toril would a robot order from a tavern?

In a deep voice drenched in static, the warforged responded, “Just a tankard of oil, ma’am.”

The dwarf lady tilted her head with crooked eyebrows. “I’ll, uh, check if we have anything like that in storage.” And with that, she left the bar to seek out the robot’s sustenance.

The drow woman reading in the corner suddenly found herself in company. A dainty purple hand with long, sharp nails suddenly snatched the book from out of her grasp.

Vaggie groaned loudly. “Alastor,” Charlie started with a long sigh, “maybe Dahlia can just ask Lorae politely to see her book?”

Alastor chuckled and shook his head as he moved his index finger back and forth in protest. “Ah ah ah, I believe this is where ‘player agency’ comes in, hmm?”

Vaggie’s groan shifted to a growl. Charlie simply frowned and said, “Fine… roll a dexterity check.”

Alastor snapped his fingers. The die levitated into the air with a green glow. Vaggie practically bit the air in front of her as she snapped at Alastor, “I don’t think so, you cheater. Roll the dice like a normal person.”

The die landed back onto the tablecloth. Alastor gasped playfully and pressed his hand onto his chest in feigned offense, “You wound me, Vaggie. I am no cheater, but if I must roll the dice so mundanely to prove my good sportsmanship, so be it.” He picked up the die and tossed it onto the table. His smile widened smugly when he saw Vaggie sneering at him. The d20 spun around on the table and showed a 17 when it stopped.

The purple-skinned tiefling took advantage of the drow’s undivided attention into her book to seize it from her hands. 

“Hey!” the drow yelled and she fumbled her hands to take her book back.

The tiefling woman ignored the drow’s anger, instead flipping through the pages of the book. She scoffed at the contents; a clerical text on the teachings of the drow goddess Eilistraee. “Ugh, a drow holy book preaching love and beauty instead of sex and murder? How dull,” she rolled her red eyes and tossed the book back at the drow. 

The drow woman scowled at the tiefling as she caught her book before it hit the floor. “Blasted she-devil! I won’t tolera-”

Charlie interrupted her girlfriend’s incoming monologue of insults. “Suddenly! A crazed sailor barges into the tavern, making a big ruckus and turning heads!” She stood up when she spoke and put on some of her best theatrics. “‘Oh, the humanity!’ you hear him scream. ‘The mansion on the cliff! Oh, how the ghosts wail in the dark! Who will end their suffering and claim their treasure?’” Her over dramatic acting had her waving her arms and falling backwards into Vaggie’s lap.

“Ghosts?” Vaggie tilted her head.

“Treasure?” Pentious grinned.

“Suffering?!” Alastor’s ears perked up.

Charlie put her left thumb up, still lying down on Vaggie. “Yes, yes, and yes!” she exclaimed.

Angel shrugged and smirked. “Not the best written plot hook, but hey, treasure’s treasure. I go up to that lunatic and ask him what the hell he’s talkin’ about.”

Charlie got up from Vaggie’s lap, and Vaggie seemed almost sad that their cuddling moment was over. Charlie sat back down in her own chair and responded, “Uh, yeah, he seems to be insane, high, or both. But he tells you all about how people stay away from that creepy old mansion. He says he tried to pilfer the place himself, but a spooky ghost scared him away! No adventurer has been brave enough to claim the mysterious treasure after the most fearsome pirate in the Realms was killed there - Captain Viscera!” She wiggled all of her fingers and let out a little whistle to make the legend sound scarier. 

Pentious seemed to take that as a challenge. “I’m brave enough!” he shouted. “And tough enough!”

Angel laughed. “Pfft! Sure ya are, Slithers.” He leaned back a bit as he thought about his own character’s motivations. “An’ I guess Vaez would think this could make for good songwriter material. Who doesn’t love a good ghost story? I’m in. Who’s comin’ with the bard and the robot?!”

Niffty laughed and licked her lips. “Oh, oh, oh! Take me with you! I wonder what stabbing a ghost feels like?” She rubbed her hands together and gave Alastor a maniacal grin as if she was seeking his approval.

Vaggie looked around at the other players at the table and nodded. “Lorae’s a cleric. I think she’d want to give the place an exorcism,” she said and smiled at Charlie.

Alastor hummed. He looked rather bored, but Niffty’s silly antics seemed to give him just a sliver of motivation. “I suppose this group of would-be adventurers could use the expert help of a necromancy wizard when dealing with ghosts.”

Vaggie grumbled in response. “Fine. So long as you don’t steal my shit.”

“Acceptable,” Alastor replied.

After staying quiet for most of the session, Husk finally spoke up, “Can my character get another mug of beer from that barmaid?”

Angel pouted at Husk. “What?” he asked. “You ain’t comin’?”

Husk took a shot of his own vodka and shrugged.

“Charlie,” Angel said, “can I roll persuasion to convince Husk to come with?”

Charlie nodded. “I suppose we could do two r--”

Husk interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “Nah nah, don’t bother. I’m a warlock. I’ll, uh, just say I hear my patron order me to go.”

Alastor snickered at the irony of his statement. Charlie gave Husk an appreciative clap of her hands and said, “And so, the party embarks on their journey to the haunted manor overlooking the ocean!”

The six adventurers gathered outside the tavern. Clouds were starting to roll in, overcasting the sun. “Name’s Husk, by the way,” the tabaxi warlock said. 

“Dahlia, pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure,” the tiefling woman said with an aloof grin, one hand on her hip and the other examining her sharp nails.

The long-haired drow priestess bowed. “Lorae Thesryn, at your service.”

The warforged swallowed the last of their tankard of oil down, tossed the tankard aside, and straightened their posture as they saluted. “PX-1e, reporting for duty!”

Vaez snickered. “That’s a mouthful. Can we shorten that to Pixie?”

Charlie waved her hands as she narrated in her deepest voice, “The journey to the manor is a bit of a hike, but you make it there after a few hours of walking on foot. It’s raining now. When you reach the manor, it’s about as spooky as a haunted house can get; dilapidated architecture, broken windows, and tattered curtains hanging in the wind. You hear a loud crack of thunder and see a bolt of lighting strike the roof. If you listen closely, you can even hear a ghostly scream coming from within, and--”

“CHAAAARGE!” Pentious roared before Charlie could finish.

As the others were discussing how they should approach, Pixie charged forth with their fist forward. They punched the front door open, the wood shattering against its force. Three ghostly figures poured out of the building and shrieked an agonizing wail that would crack eardrums and drive the listeners mad for a moment, then they dissipated like sand in the wind.

Charlie gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Pentious, the door opens, but everyone takes 1d6 psychic damage from the ghosts’ screams.”

Vaggie and Angel booed Pentious’ recklessness. “What?” Pentious asked defensively. “I got the door open, didn’t I?” His question was met with an awkward silence and unamused stares. Husk sipped at his vodka again. Pentious decided to brush off their disapproval with his own bluster. “Ha! Did these foolish ssssspecters think they could take on the invention of the Great Sir Pentious with a pathetic little headache sssscream?! Nay! Inward, my comrades in arms! Follow my warforged and thisss manor will be ours by dawn!”

Charlie let out an anxious sigh. “With the front door wide open, what’s everyone’s next step?” she darted her eyes around the table, looking hopeful.

Angel spoke up first, “I know this whole song and dance, toots. We walk in and there will be more traps waitin’ for us.”

“Not to mention more ghosts,” Husk pointed out.

Vaggie nodded at that, “Yeah, so let’s get in there and scope the place out.” She narrowed her single eye at Pentious. “Cautiously. I only have so many spell slots to heal everyone.”

“Roger that, Vagatha! Our tactic now requires ssssubtlety.”

“That’s not my name, but okay…”

The adventurers walked through the shattered front door. The interior of the mansion was dark and dusty. Candles adorned parts of the wall with a flickering ghostly blue flame. Cobwebs dangled from the ceiling and a thick layer of dust covered the wooden floor. Rusty armored statues stood in a silent vigil down the halls. 

“Echo!” Roachie called out, and his voice reverberated throughout the entry hall. “Echo - echo - echo!” Dahlia shushed him and he covered his mouth. The mansion had no response to Roachie’s voice, but the silence was eerie.

Another crack of lightning from outside. It started to rain harder, tapping loudly on the cracked windows.

“Spooky,” Vaez whispered.

The blue flames on the candles caught Dahlia’s attention. She approached one of them and observed how it glowed. “Interesting…” she said. “It isn’t fire that lights these candles, but magic. An illusion.”

Husk opened one of the doors in the front hallway to reveal a kitchen and a pantry. The food was so long dead that it wasn’t even rotten anymore. Just ancient dust with white mushrooms spawning from what used to be meat and fruit. He entered the kitchen. A rusty meat cleaver lifted into the air and launched itself in Husk’s direction. It cut the air in its path with a loud whistle. Husk ducked at the last second, the dull blade grazing his forehead. “Shit!” he yelled. 

The others stopped their investigations and rushed over to Husk, all asking their own questions of what happened. They peered inside the kitchen. Other various utensils followed the cleaver, rising into the air and hurling themselves at the adventurers. A barrage of forks, spoons, and knives spiraling in the air like a tempest. A steak knife struck Vaez in the gut, piercing their abdomen. Vaez screamed in pain. Husk slammed the door shut before more kitchen appliances could attack them. Vaez keeled over and yanked the knife out of their diaphragm, rivulets of crimson splashing out in its path. 

“Hold still, I’ve got you!” Lorae exclaimed and she kneeled before Vaez. Her hands glowed a bright golden light as she placed her hands on Vaez’s open wound. The gash mended at her touch, closing and leaving behind a healthy, dry scab. 

Vaez looked up and smiled at the cleric. “Th-thanks,” they said as they stood. “Fucking poltergeists! Whatever’s in there ain’t worth it!”

Roachie wasted no time in fishing through what was once the servants’ quarters. He found a footlocker under one of the bunkbeds covered in tattered white sheets. There wasn’t anything special to be found; only a few gold coins and rusty jewelry. He tried to open a wardrobe, but it was locked. The old lock on the hinge proved no trouble to the mischievous sorcerer-rogue, however. He picked the lock and opened the wardrobe. He was greeted by a humanoid skeleton falling to the ground before him. The skeleton sprung to life. It let out an echoing groan as it stood. The skeleton’s eye sockets blazed a faint blue light. It was unarmed, but its bare knuckles punched and clawed at the drow who unleashed it. 

Roachie growled when the bony fist socked him in the face. The skeleton lunged at Roachie and pushed him against the wall, clawing its fingers around his neck. Roachie gagged and squirmed. A pair of magical transparent daggers manifested in his hands. He slashed his daggers at the skeleton to defend himself.

Flash! A bolt of fire struck the skeleton from behind. Dahlia emerged with her hand pointed at the skeleton, fingers holding small orbs of flame. Between Dahlia’s offensive spells and Roachie’s magic daggers, the skeleton proved little match. Slice, tear, burn. It crumbled to the floor and only burning cinders remained.

“Whoa, thanks, Alastor!” Niffty exclaimed and gave the demon sitting beside her a thankful blink.

Alastor grinned at the little cyclops. “Of course, my dear. No pile of bones is getting the better of you,” he said as he patted Niffty on the head. The interaction made Charlie happy to watch.

After a few hours of exploring the run down mansion, rummaging through rubble and dust, dodging the attacks of invisible poltergeists, covering their ears from the occasional ghostly sob or scream, they finally came across a pristine door at the topmost floor of the building. The door was polished and untouched by the cobwebs and rot of the rest of the house. An oversized golden padlock kept the door handles sealed tight. 

“Hey, Roaches,” Vaez said. “Can you pick this lock?”

Roachie grinned as he pulled out his lockpicks. “Oh boy can I!” he said, and started fiddling with the lock. The socket didn’t seem to take kindly to the drow’s tampering; it blasted at Roachie’s hand with a bone chilling spell. His fingers turned black for a few seconds, and the spell left behind a sharp, stinging pain in the depths of his palm. The lockpick was blown to bits.

A deep and strongly hoarse voice shook the hallway. “I wouldn’t try that if I were ye.” A talking skull rolled across the floor and bumped into Roachie’s ankle. It backed away and looked up at the drow. Like the skeletons they fought earlier, this one had glowing blue lights in the eye sockets.

Pixie pointed the butt of their halberd at the skull, ready to smash it. Lorae readied a sacred flame spell. Roachie simply looked down at the skull and yelled, “Owie! That hurt, little bone man! What was that for?!”

The skull opened its jaw and laughed a comically high-pitched giggle. “A security measure, wee drow.” Charlie coughed. Putting on such a scratchy voice wasn’t easy on her vocal cords. She cleared her throat and continued, “Nah mine. If ye wants t’ open it, ye’ll find the key behind the organ in the ballroom.”

Vaez rolled their eyes and scoffed. “And why would we trust the word of a talking skull? We fought quite a few skellies to get here, Bones.”

The skull faced the changeling and tilted over slightly, as if cocking its head. “If ye wants the secret t' the mansion, it’s behind that door, 'n I’m the only lead ye 'ave. Either ye get that key, or continue t' fumble in the dark. 'ave a lovely evenin'!” And with that, the strange skull swiftly rolled away. Lorae tried to cast her radiant spell at the undead, but it quickly dodged out of the way before it disappeared around the corner of the hall.

Another loud cough from Charlie, this time pounding her chest with her fist. “Ack! Sorry, everyone!” In the blink of an eye, she took one of the empty shot glasses Husk brought to the table and poured herself a shot of vodka. The liquid brought some amount of comfort to her aching throat.

Alastor tilted his head, neck cracking loudly with the sudden motion. He looked down curiously at the empty shot glass that Charlie had just slammed onto the table. “Husk,” he addressed the feline demon, but didn’t meet his eyes, “be a dear and fetch the princess some water, hmm?” Husk sighed, and exited to the kitchen. Even without Alastor’s command, it was clear what Charlie really needed.

Vaggie blinked at Charlie with concern. “Hon, maybe you should pick a different voice for that character,” she suggested.

“I’m fine!” Charlie said as she gave everyone at the table a pair of thumbs up. “Let’s just… let’s continue!” And when Husk returned with the precious water, they did just that.

Dahlia spoke up in her elegant voice, “The little bone creature has a point. Even if it’s lying, we can always grind it to dust.”

Lorae hated to agree with the arrogant tiefling, but she did. “We might as well explore that ballroom.”

Out of character, Niffty said aloud, “This is a trap!” She fidgeted with the curls of her hair anxiously.

Angel shrugged. “Yeah, no kiddin’. That’s all part o’ the fun, though, ain’t it? An’ your resident bard can make that organ sing!” He pointed at himself and smirked with pride.

“Yesssss,” Pentious agreed. “We just need to find it firssst.”

“Should we split up? We could find it faster that way,” Husk asked.

“Husk, have you ever SEEN a horror movie?!” Vaggie asked. She was leaning forward in her seat and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “We’re in a haunted house! Splitting up just means we’ll get killed off one-by-one! No, we’re staying together if we want to live. Here…” she pointed at a spot on the map laid out on the table. “Aside from the door in front of us, this area is the only part of the house we haven’t checked out yet.”

Charlie stayed silent, listening carefully to the players’ banter and exchange of ideas. Seeing them think hard about their situation made her feel proud of herself; she worked diligently on this adventure, and her players being so invested brought a strong sense of hope. “Alright!” she said after taking another long sip of water. “As you all mosey on over, please roll perception!” 

Husk’s keen feline hearing heard it before the others did; a solemn tune playing on an organ, like a funerary song of mourning. “You hear that?” he asked, and slowly, the others began to hear it, too. 

The party followed the sound that led them to a large ballroom. A massive organ on the other side played the song all on its own. That, or the musician was invisible. Rusty pipes puffed dust and a haunting melody into the air. The keys bounced up and down without an apparent organist. There was a broken crystal chandelier splayed out in the middle of the ballroom, shards of glass littering the floor. Such dim light made the scenery barely visible to everyone aside from the two drow. As Lorae stepped in first, blue candles on the wall lit up with the same illusory blue light from the candles in the hallways. Suddenly, the keys on the organ began moving at a faster rhythm. 

Charlie looked excited (and a bit nervous), when she announced, “The music becomes so catchy that it makes you want to dance! Everyone, please roll a DC12 charisma save!”

The sound of plastic and marble thrown onto the table patted loudly across the room. Dice spun and bumped into each other. Pentious and Niffty whined when they saw their numbers come up. Husk saw he passed the check, but maintained his poker face. Angel pumped all four fists at his result and silently cheered. Vaggie just smiled at her die displaying a solid 12. Despite having rolled a natural 20, Alastor seemed disinterested despite his never ending smile - bored, even. 

Charlie looked sad on behalf of Niffty and Pentious. “Erm, I so, so, so, so, so sorry, you two,” she said to them with a frown dripping down her face. Pentious looked at her with wide eyes and an anxious gulp. Niffty was simply twirling her hair with her left fingers, fearless. “Roachie and Pixie love the new music on the organ so much that they start dancing together.”

“Oooooooh~!” Niffty beamed. “Can we do the tango together?”

As the song on the organ became more upbeat, Roachie and Pixie felt an uncontrollable desire to dance along. Roachie took the robot’s metal hand and wrapped his other arm around Pixie’s waist. The involuntary dancing created a rising panic in Pixie’s chest, but Roachie embraced it fully. 

“Hey!” Vaez yelled at the two enthralled adventurers. “Snap out of it, lovebirds. We have a job to do!”

Husk’s ears twitched and his fur stood up. He could hear the pitter patter of bony feet from down the halls leading to the ballroom. Suddenly, a small mob of skeletons armed with rusty cutlasses and splintered bows emerged from around the corners, surrounding the adventurers. The party would have made easy prey had they all succumbed to the dancing curse. Husk was quick to act; the magical energy blasted from his fingers blew one of the archers off its feet. 

Arrows pierced the dust in the air, blades clashed and magic bursted on contact. All the while, the dancing melody continued to enrapture the drow and the robot. Roachie reveled in the chaos of dancing in the middle of a battle, danger and blood accompanying a catchy musical tune. Pixie, however, was not as amused by the situation. “Initiate panic protocol: save me! Save me!” they cried out in terror as they continued their graceful dance with Roachie.

Lorae chanted a prayer to her goddess. The cleric’s spell sent forth a wave of holy energy throughout the room, causing some of the skeletons to flee in terror. Just as Vaez’s hand crossbow blasted the skull off one of the skeletons, its wielder got an idea. With a jerk, the bard turned their head to the organ and stared at it with a twinkle in their eyes. They dashed as fast as they could to the instrument, dodging the blade of a skeleton hoping to slice them as they rushed by. Dahlia launched a pair of skeletons off her with her thundering magic. She crossed her eyebrows when she saw Vaez run to the ghostly organ. “The hell are you doing?!” she called out.

“H-hang on! I think I can…” Vaez started to play a tune of his own on the organ. Their fingers bounced up and down across the keys. The instrument obeyed its new musician, as if abandoning whatever spirit had been possessing it before.

Charlie squealed and kicked her feet in her chair, eyes closed and smiled wider than ever. “That is such a good idea Angel!” she said as she clapped for him. “Bravo, bravo! Gain a point of inspiration!”

Angel bowed in his chair graciously. “Thank you, thank you. As you can see, every gamin’ table needs a bard.”

With a new musician, the organ’s grasp over the minds of its victims released its grip. The dancers found themselves in their own bodies once again. “Retribution!” Pixie bellowed as their halberd slashed across a row of skeletons, knocking the skulls off their heads. Stab! Stab! Stab! The sorcerer-rogue’s magic daggers pierced bone like a hot knife through butter. Through song, magic, and the edges of blades, the adventurers stood victorious atop a pile of inanimate bones, though not without their injuries.

Vaez stopped playing the organ. As their fingers drifted away from the keys, one of the keys fell off, revealing a gold padlock key beneath it. “Well, would you look at that!” the changeling exclaimed as they held up the shiny object.

Dahlia chuckled. “A key within a key? How quaint.”

Lorae had her eyes closed, focusing on another prayer. “Vis medicandrix,” she whispered, and a wave of sparkling light washed over the room for a few moments, bringing a soothing light to their aching wounds. She spoke up in the common language after the healing spell ended, “Right. We need to open that last door. Eilistraee would want me to cleanse this place.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with,” Husk said with a tired sigh.

Through the cobweb-ridden halls, the six of them returned to the door leading to the master bedroom. Vaez inserted the key and turned. The padlock descended off the handles and the doors swung open. The room unveiled was just as ruinous as the rest of the mansion. It could have been a grand royal bedroom once upon a time, but now the same level of dust and ash littered the surfaces. A row of bookshelves ran down the left wall, some books appearing to remain intact despite the neglect. The large bed pushed into the center wall seemed to have mostly been eaten by moths and made into a rats’ nest. Wardrobes and gilded chests were organized neatly around the room. What stood out the most was a coffin in the middle of the room. 

All of the adventurers began rifling through the chests and bookshelves. All but one: Dahlia. The tiefling was less enthused by the promise of treasure like the others were. She was more interested in the coffin. As the others ogled at the gold coins and seemingly magical trinkets that the sailor alluded to in his rant, Dahlia admired the fine carving of the coffin. It was mahogany wood and gilded with silver. Surely this was the final resting place of the previous owner. She found the latch to the coffin, but it was rusted shut. The coffin appeared it would have to be broken into if someone wanted to open it. “Warforged,” she said, as through summoning Pixie. “Smash this open like you did the front door, would you?”

Pixie saluted and did as was ordered, like the good soldier they were. Their metal fist punched a hole in the side of the coffin. Dahlia grinned and slid the lid off. She was disappointed to see nothing but a desiccated headless corpse. 

A loud cackle shook the walls, shaking ancient debris off the ceiling and onto the floor. In a flash of blue light, the talking skull that taunted them before flew as fast as an arrow on the wind to reunite with the rest of its body. The corpse’s neck cracked into place, fastening the skull into the joint. The adventurers backed away instinctively from the monster they had just reawoken. Blue flame enveloped the corpse as it levitated into the air. The corpse landed on its own two feet, fowl orbs of dark energy where its eyes should be greeting the party before it.

“Dahlia, you’re a necromancer. You recognize this thing as a lich,” Charlie announced to Alastor.

“A what now?”

“An overpowered undead freak,” Angel deadpanned.

Charlie nodded. “Spooky undead of immense power, and it looks like this guy was locked away in this mansion.” Pentious sat silently in his seat, looking guilty of what his character just did, but the others didn’t seem to acknowledge it at all.

Niffty snickered. “Ooooh, so we just brought one of the Vees back to life?” Angel’s face squished in confusion at Niffty’s comment, and she elaborated, “The funny sailor mentioned Captain V-something, right?”

“Captain Viscera?” Charlie asked. “His name starts with a V, but he’s not one of THOSE Vees.” She looked down at Niffty and gave her a silly wink. “Or is he?!”

Captain Viscera pushed everyone out of his way and broke the window overlooking the ocean with a horrible, brain-splitting scream. The party couldn’t help but keel over and cover their ears, helpless to stop the lich in his tracks. The six of them scrambled to the window to see what horrors the Captain would unleash. A pirate ship emerged from the depth of the ocean, launching massive waves of ocean water onto the shore. It splashed the mansion in its wake. The ship was pure black, covered in barnacles and algae. Captain Viscera’s sinister laugh echoed across the horizon, so loud that everyone in Waterdeep would hear it and know that the dreaded pirate lich returned to torment Sword Coast once again.

“Well, shit!” Angel cursed, looking dejected yet amazed.

Husk took one last sip of his vodka. “Well shit indeed,” he said quietly.

Charlie wiggled her fingers in the air. “Aaaaaaaaaand~, that’s the end of our very first session, everyone!” she said excitedly. “Captain Viscera is back! What does this mean for citizens of Toril? Can his reign of terror be stopped? Find out at our next session of ‘The Ghost of Captain Viscera’!”

Angel, Pentious, and Niffty clapped and cheered at Charlie. It warmed her heart to see them having such fun. Husk didn’t share their enthusiasm, but raised his shot glass at Charlie to show his support. The four of them exited the dining room together, chatting happily about the events of the session. “Thank you for playing the inssstrument to ssssave me!” “Captain Viscera sounds like a BAD BOY!”

Alastor silently teleported behind Charlie and pulled her into a hug. Charlie grinned and returned his hug with a tight squeeze. “And THAT is how you end a proper part one of a story. Excellent showmanship, my dear. You’d do well as a radio show narrator.” He patted her on the top of her head with a chuckle, and then simply melted away out of the room.

Vaggie rolled her eyes at Alastor’s comment. “Qué cabrón manipulador…” she cursed under her breath, but quickly brushed off her growing resentments of the Radio Demon and turned her attention to her smiling lover. “Babe, you did a great job today!” 

Charlie’s eyes watered with tears of joy. She always had exaggerated emotions. “You mean it?!” she asked in disbelief, holding her hands to her mouth to conceal her blushing smile.

“Of course! Look how much fun everyone had!”

“So many of our exercises lately haven’t gone so smoothly. This one… this could be our most successful one yet!” Charlie led her girlfriend to join the others at Husk’s bar. She felt like she rolled a nat 20 on her performance check.

Chapter Text

It was a fine evening in Cannibal Town. A warm fuzzy feeling wafted through the air. Demon children played in the streets, families walked the marketplace, and a band of imps played blues music at the gazebo in the center of the plaza. Every building was decorated in a bright pink and white paint, with sparkling lights dangling from the rooftops. Dahmer’s Diner, the most popular restaurant this side of the Pentagram, was booming with business that night. Rosie and Alastor sat on the patio outside, enjoying their friendly dinner. Alastor dipped his spoon into his bowl of eyeball gumbo. He chowed down on the optic orbs, savoring the way they popped under his teeth. “Mmmm, scrumptious!” he said as a small drop of blood and rice trickled down his chin. 

Rosie was enjoying her own grisly meal; a plate filled with glazed demonic meatloaf with a side of fried pinky fingers. She smirked as she watched Alastor happily gulp down his meal. “Looks like someone was hungry,” she was about to follow up her statement with telling her friend to clean his face, but he beat her to it. He patted his lips dry with a handkerchief. “Is that silly hotel not keeping their gracious host well fed?”

“The kitchen is well-stocked, but I’ve had to keep my… niche vices to be enjoyed elsewhere. Princess Charlie was able to turn a blind eye, but it was her steady who convinced her to put her foot down,” he rolled his eyes when mentioning Vaggie. “And so, now when I have certain cravings, I am to sate them away from hotel property. Quite the wet blanket, that one.”

Rosie scoffed as she took another bite of her meatloaf. “Some people are allergic to a good time, aren’t they?”

Alastor hummed and nodded in response. “Ah well, sometimes sacrifices must be made when it comes to manipulation.”

“And speaking of manipulation, are you ever going to tell me what big plans you have for this place, my friend?”

Alastor took a long and loud sip of his tea. “As much as I would love to tell you all about it, my dear, I’m afraid my current strategy calls for discretion. I can’t tell anyone about my next steps, not even you, sha. Rest assured, I plan to share my empire with you.” He placed his hand on Rosie’s.

“Charmer,” Rosie said playfully, but there was a twinge of disappointment in her words. “You must have some stories to share. C’mon, tell me about the misfits who came crawling desperately to the princess’s door!”

“A grand total of two. One is a has-been porn actor who wallows in his own self-pity and the other is an insecure fop who needs a small army of incompetent sycophants to validate his own fragile ego.”

“Oh, Alastor, I’d hardly call Angel Dust a has-been; his face is plastered on billboards all across the city,” Rosie said. She finished the final bite of her meatloaf, gently wiped the blood off of her lips with a napkin, and set her plate aside. “But please, darlin’, spill the tea on this ‘insecure fop’!” 

“He goes by the name Pentious. Talks himself up as though he’s the next Einstein, but his engineering is mediocre at best and he knows it. Ah, the sound of him crying himself to sleep at night is music to my ears.” Alastor took another sip of his tea, then put the cup back down on the porcelain plate with a quiet clink. “Watching him try to better himself and then trip on his own ineptitude is exceptionally entertaining. Take Charlie’s game, for instance. Embarrassing mistakes followed by insincere boasting. The game itself isn’t what entertains me, but watching their failures is.”

“Charlie’s game?”

“Derangements and Dragons, I think it’s called. We create our fictitious characters, and Charlie narrates us through her story. Supposedly, it was inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit.’”

Rosie swallowed the last of her tea and cocked her head to the side, looking at Alastor with confusion. “Do you play this game with them, or simply watch?”

“It isn’t exactly my style, but I take part simply to humor Charlie. I need her to trust me, and so I play her game,” Alastor replied.

“Lucky you!” she said with a chuckle. She gave him a little poke on the nose and delighted when he bleated like a fawn in response. Alastor’s smile brightened. Rosie placed her elbow on the table and leaned her head into her palm. “And while you get to play tabletop games, I’m here having to deal with HER.”

“Susan?”

“Susan.”

With a sigh, Alastor ate another spoonful of some poor deceased sinners’ eyes. “My condolences, darling.” He swallowed and considered his meal. A deliciously sadistic thought came to his mind, and his smile turned devious. “One of these days, you and I should cook her into a delicious lunch. I think her ribs would taste simply divine with the right barbeque sauce! And do get Miss Rodriguez on the phone. Susan’s stomach could make for excellent tripe in her mole de panza recipe! And surely we co--”

A familiar voice interrupted him, “Alastor? Alastor!” The Radio Demon suddenly found his head in the uncomfortably tight embrace of an old friend’s bosom.

“Mimzy!” Alastor awkwardly wrapped his arm up Mimzy’s back and patted her shoulder from behind. Being touched so unpromptedly sent shivers down his spine and made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He would have to give Mimzy a reminder about boundaries, but decided this was not the time nor the place for that conversation. Instead, he lightly pushed her off his head and straightened out his hair with his fingers. “What in the Seven Circles are you doing in this part of town?” he asked, surprised to see her wandering Cannibal Town.

Mimzy took a seat at the table, but shooed the waiter away when he tried to pass her a menu. “The food isn’t to my taste,” she said, “but the jewelers here have some of the most fabulous glitter in all of Hell!”

Rosie looked Mimzy up and down. It was true that the jewelry she was wearing looked old and worn down. “Oh, Mimzy, you simply must stop by my emporium someday, dollface!” Rosie exclaimed. “We just got a new shipment of handcrafted jewelry from Brimstone Jewelers in the Doomsday District. You’ll look simply delectable in their bloodstone necklaces!”

Alastor nodded in agreement. “Appetizing, even.” He chuckled lightly at Mimzy and playfully licked his lips.

Mimzy smiled and rolled her eyes as she waved her hand dismissively. “Careful there, honey pies! I know you two are kiddin’, but you’ll make a girl nervous with talk like that in this peculiar corner of Hell.” 

The three of them continued to chat and exchange gossip. Alastor caught Mimzy up on the part of the conversation she missed. After about an hour, the clocktower in the middle of Pentagram City rang eight times. It was loud enough to be heard across the entire city. Alastor’s eyes widened. If he was going to placate Charlie, he couldn’t afford to be late to tonight’s session. He looked down at his unfinished bowl of eyeball gumbo and his everlasting smile faltered ever so slightly; he didn’t get to finish his meal. “Oh dear,” he lamented. “Would you look at the time!” With a snap of his fingers, a clean handkerchief manifested in the air and wrapped itself around the bowl, ready to be taken home as leftovers. 

Rosie frowned with disappointment. “You're leaving already, sugar?” 

Alastor stood and gently picked up his bowl. “I’m afraid I must, sweethearts. Duty calls.” He started to look nervous, left eye twitching.

And Mimzy noticed. “Then tell Duty to hold the phone! The princess and her tacky game can wait. I'm here now! Come, sit back down and enjoy finishing your jambalaya.”

For a fraction of a second, radio dials flickered in Alastor’s eyes. Hearing someone so important to him say something so offensive triggered a visceral reaction in the depths of his gut. “Did you just call gumbo jambalaya?”

Chapter Text

Foul shadows coalesced in the hotel dining room into the form of a familiar demon. Alastor was late. Charlie and the other residents were gathered around the table already rolling their dice and laughing. 

“Alastor!” Charlie exclaimed. She sprung from her chair and rushed over to the Radio Demon and leapt onto his chest with a tight hug. Alastor nearly dropped his bowl of leftovers when he was pulled into the embrace. “I was wondering if you’d make it tonight! I would have texted you to ask, but, you know…”

He patted Charlie on the head. Twice today he had his personal space intruded upon. When Charlie let go of her hug, Alastor took a seat in his favorite chair. “Apologies, my dear. I was having a delightful dinner with a friend and lost track of time.” From under the table emerged an impish shadowed demon, one of Alastor’s little minions. He handed his bowl to the creature and gave it an order, “Take this and put it in the refrigerator, little one.” 

“Oh, that isn’t necessary, Al, you can eat that while we play,” Charlie said, looking curiously at the small monster holding Alastor’s bowl atop its head and frantically scurrying out of the dining room.

Alastor shook his head and took a seat. “No no, my dear. That would be terribly rude of me. Besides, Dahmer’s special eyeball gumbo isn’t going anywhere.” He noticed Vaggie and Angel glancing over at each other with a grimace of disgust written all over their faces. It only gave Alastor motivation to elaborate. “I can just reheat it in the morning,” he continued. “Sinner eyes go quite well with aged venison and a cup of coffee.”

Charlie chose to ignore the mental image Alastor had just described and sat back down behind the DM screen. “Let’s get you up to speed on what you missed!” she said with a rather anxious smile. 

“We got arrested,” Husk said with a sigh.

“Mmhmm,” Angel continued with a nod, “our second session in and we’re already in an interrogation room.”

Alastor chuckled, a smug and mocking smile drawn upon his lips. “My, my, in trouble with the law already? I’m somehow not surprised,” he said. “What did you lot get up to in my absence?” 

“You were there, Alastor!” Vaggie said in a disgruntled voice. “We unleashed a lich onto the Sword Coast! And I’m sure you remember opening the coffin was YOUR bright idea?!”

Niffty giggled in a playful frenzy. “Wasn’t it great?! Oh, and I wasn’t arrested; I was able to sneak away. I love being a stealthy bad boy with the Misty Step spell!” 

“Of course you weren’t arrested, Niffty dear. You’re much too clever,” Alastor said affectionately.

Husk decided to reel in the conversation and make things sound more coherent to his Overlord. “Basically, we went back to town and were immediately arrested for what happened at the mansion. Roachie got away, but the rest of us are in an interrogation room now.”

“And since you’re late, Alastor, we can just say that you managed to dodge the authorities. How do you want to say Dahlia managed to do that?” Charlie asked.

“Hmm…” Alastor took a few moments to consider, tapping his nails on the top end of his microphone. “Dahlia didn’t go back to town yet. She’s still at the mansion. If I recall, there were books galore in the master bedroom, yes? Dahlia is looking for personal information on Captain Viscera.” 

Charlie gave him a thumbs up. “Great! Roll perception, please!”

Alastor rolled the die. It spun around and displayed a 13 when it stopped. “What do I find?” he asked.

Charlie scratched her chin. “Hmm… As you look through all the musty and dusty tomes, you come across something peculiar. It looks like Captain Viscera’s journal!” 

“Ah, of course, all villains should keep their evil plans written down for do-gooders to find! A truly clever move from that decrepit pile of bones,” Alastor mocked. “Very well. Dahlia opens it up and reads it.”

“You try, but it’s written in Elvish. You’re a tiefling, so you don’t know Elvish,” Charlie replied.

“Captain Viscera is an elf?” Niffty asked, her eyebrow raised halfway up her forehead.

With a smile and a nod, Charlie answered, “A sea elf, yes. Also known as Alu’Tel’Quessir.” 

“Nerd shit,” Husk mumbled as he poured himself another drink.

“Drow are a type of elf, correct?” Alastor asked.

Angel nodded at Alastor and replied, “Yep. They’re also called ‘dark elves.’”

“Then Dahlia has two new friends who should be able to read this journal with no issue! Off she goes to find them!” Alastor said with a prideful grin on his face. Niffty leaned her head onto his arm in silent gratitude. She closed her eye and snuggled her face into his sleeve.

Vaggie rolled her singular eye and let out a frustrated sigh. “We’re NOT friends!” she snapped at Alastor, eyebrows crossed and arms folded.

“Give me an investigation check, please,” Charlie said to Alastor. He did as was asked. The dice displayed a 20 when it stopped spinning, and Charlie cheered for Alastor. “Wow! You find them with no problem! Easy peasy!”

“Mhmm. And where does Dahlia find them?” Alastor asked.

“We’ll get to that soon, Alastor,” Charlie said in hopes to deescalate her girlfriend’s frustration. “For now, let’s get back to the other players for a moment. You see…”

Lorae, Pixie, Husk, and Vaez sat awkwardly in a gray interrogation room. Cobblestone walls dimly lit with a single lantern dangling from the ceiling gave those sitting in the room a sense of hopelessness, as if they were already deemed guilty and imprisoned. It was surely by design to make the subjects of the interrogation feel uneasy and more prone to intimidation. They waited in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes, a mixture of shame and anxiety the previous night had stirred together. Finally, the interrogator swung the metal door open and sat on the opposite end of the wooden table. He was a dark-skinned human wearing chainmail armor from head-to-toe. The tabard above his armor bore the crest of Waterdeep law enforcement, and the golden badge attached to his chest showed off his rank as sheriff. He sat leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes glaring at the four detainees with both anger and disappointment.

“What do you four have to say for yourselves?” he asked in a stern tone.

The adventurers looked around at each other as if begging someone else to speak up first. Lorae decided to take one for the team. “Yes… the lich, well,” she started, twiddling her thumbs, “I am a cleric, and I sought to give that haunted mansion an exorcism.”

The sheriff placed his hands on the table and leaned in further, staring Lorae down. She shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable and fearful. The sheriff sneered and responded with a raised voice, “And so instead of going through the proper channels and gathering a team of clerics to do so, you barged in with buffoons you don’t even know and woke up one of the most feared liches in the history of Toril?!”

Pixie slammed their metal hand down. The table bounced on impact. “Excuse me?!” they bellowed, deep voice drenched in robotic static. “I am no buffoon! I am a mighty soldier on a mission to retrieve artifacts of great power to my very impressive creator, and I--”

Husk cutoff Pixie mid-sentence before they could embarrass themself further, “Oh, shut it, you bucket of bolts!”

After staying silent in apprehension, Vaez finally spoke up. “Look, mister sheriff,” they pleaded, “we fucked up, and we want to make things right. Just give us a chance!”

Lorae nodded in agreement with the changeling and said, “Yes, it’s our fault the lich escaped, so it’s our responsibility to catch him. Please, let us go after Captain Viscera and right our wrongs.”

“Y-yes!” Pixie chimed in. “I have a ship of my own ready to set sail! 

Charlie clapped for their responses. “Yes, yes, yes!” she exclaimed. “Please roll for persuasion with advantage!”

“What issss rolling with advantage?” Pentious asked.

Vaggie picked up two dice and gave them a spin as she answered his question, “It means we roll twice and the higher roll wins!”

The dice bounced on the table with a series of thuds. When they stopped, the first displayed a 1 and the other displayed a 3. Angel grimaced at the numbers. “Ouch!” he grunted. “Even with my plus 3 bonus to persuasion, that only gives us a 6 to work with! Charlie, is a 6 good enough?”

Charlie gave a pair of thumbs up. “A 6 is perfect! Congratulations, you’ve earned yourself a complete pardon!”

Vaggie nudged Charlie’s arm with her elbow and whispered, “Aggressive kindness, babe.”

Charlie backtracked on her previous statement, grateful to be reminded that a good DM will give her players a challenge. Ever the people-pleaser, she was too eager to give the players everything. “Oh! Erm, what I mean to say is…”

The sheriff looked at the four adventurers with an unimpressed frown. “You have 24 hours to leave Waterdeep. Don’t come back without proof of Captain Viscera’s demise. If you dare show your faces around here before that, you’ll be lucky if you get off with a life sentence behind bars.”

A row of relieved sighs echoed across the interrogation room. “Thank you, officer!” Vaez said.

The sheriff rolled his eyes. “This decision extends to the tiefling and the drow who managed to avoid arrest. You’d best find them and give them word before the end of the day. You’re lucky I’m feeling so merciful. Now get out of my sight!”

Pentious’ face flushed white. “I get the fuck out of there!” he yelled. Angel, Vaggie and Husk all nodded in agreement. “Uh huh,” “yup,” “same,” were heard across the table. 

“So,” Angel started, “you say your character has a ship, Slithers?”

“They do!” Pentious responded with pride. “And what a grand ship it is! You’ll ssssee! Follow my invention and look upon the might of their terrifying massssster!”

Pixie led the other three to the docks of the city and presented to them their ship. Except it wasn’t a ship, but a wooden keelboat armed with a singular ballista. The keelboat was in a dingy condition; its rugged sailing cloth and weather worn wood gave away the lack of maintenance. It had a singular cabin in the center and a trapdoor on the deck leading down to what could presumably be a small cargo bay. 

When the four adventurers arrived at the underwhelming boat, Pixie bowed before the other three and motioned their large metal arms to their run-down keelboat. “I present to you fine people, The Cherry! This marvel of engineering was…” Pixie’s robotic voice trailed off. The flashlight acting as their eye flared red when they saw a familiar tiefling woman strutting about the boat’s deck as if she owned the place. “INTRUDER ALERT!” Pixie roared as they drew their halberd and charged aboard their ship. Large metal boots stomped across the wooden deck, shaking the ground as the oversized robot darted toward the unwanted passenger. They pointed the bladed tip of their weapon at Dahlia’s neck, their blinking red eye flashing at her face with barely contained fury.

Dahlia scoffed and put her left hand on her hip, unshaken by Pixie’s posturing. “Really, warforged? THIS is all your creator could muster? Out of the way.” Her fingertips glowed bright purple as a floating spectral hand floated out from behind her. The Mage Hand spell lowered Pixie’s halberd as Dahlia walked past the seething warforged. 

She casually exited the ship and chuckled quietly at the puzzled crowd. The ordeal made quite the scene at the pier. Sailors, fishermen, and dockworkers turned their heads in confusion at the ruckus unfolding near The Cherry. Among them was Roachie, who shoved the gold coins they managed to pickpocket from clueless bystanders on the pier into his pockets. Roachie pushed the crowd out of his way and rushed toward the others. He stood beside Lorae when he waved his hand in greetings. “Hi, everyone!” he yelled. 

Dahlia spotted Lorae and Roachie conveniently standing next to each other. She sauntered over to them with a smug smirk across her face and took out the journal she found in the mansion out of her pack. “You, drow,” she said to the two of them, standoffish, as she shoved the book into Lorae’s chest, “read this.” 

Lorae narrowed her eyes at Dahlia and pushed the book away. “Beg your pardon?”

“The lich’s journal,” Dahlia replied. “It is in Elvish. Translate it.”

Roachie snatched the journal out of Dahlia’s hands. “Yes, sir!--”

Niffty covered her mouth. “Oops!” she exclaimed, looking at Alastor. Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment. She was so eager to help Alastor that she almost forgot that his character was a woman and her character was a man. “I mean, Roachie says, ‘yes, ma’am!’” 

Alastor chuckled, poked Niffty on the forehead, and responded, “Dahlia is most grateful to ONE of the dark elves. Now then, I believe the rest of the party has some information to relay to Dahlia and Roachie?”

Angel widened his eyes in that important reminder. “Oh, right!” he exclaimed. His bottom left hand was fidgeting with a pair of dice as he spoke. “Uh… Vaez fills them in on the whole ‘exile from Waterdeep until we kill the lich’ thing.” He gave Alastor and Niffty a pair of finger guns and a mildly nervous wink.

“And~!” Pentious continued. He puffed his chest in feigned confidence. “My very impressive ship shall be our vessel in thissss grand hunt of a puny wretch to be squashed underfoot!”

Angel snorted, but kept his mouth shut. Husk, however, couldn’t help but chime in. “It’s a keelboat, not a ship, dumbass,” he said flatly. 

Charlie finally spoke up, feeling that players had done plenty of uninterrupted roleplay for now. “Well, players, if you have any unfinished business in Waterdeep, you should get that wrapped up now. We won’t be returning for quite a while!” 

Vaggie was the first to say something. “Since Lorae’s getting kicked out of Waterdeep, she has to go back to her coven and appoint a new high priestess and gather her things.”

“And since the ship only has one bedroom,” Husk said unenthusiastically, “I am going to buy some sleeping bags and rations. Pixie has their own bed, so I’m grabbing five sleeping bags, right?”

Pentious laughed as though to mock Husk’s ignorance. “Aha, no! Warforged do not sleep! PX-1e ssssimply goes on standby mode in the captain’s cabin! And my wicked invention was born-- erm, consssstructed ready for the journey ahead!” 

Angel poked Husk on the shoulder and held up three fingers. “Three,” he said. “Elves don’t need to sleep; they just meditate, and Vaez has their own sleepin’ bag. They’re a travelin’ bard. Speakin’ of which, Vaez goes back to their room in the Mermaid’s Arms Inn to pack their shit. That’s really all they need ta do to get ready.”

Charlie nodded in response. “Mhmm, okay! Alastor! Niffty! Is there anything your characters need to do before they leave Waterdeep for who-knows-how-long?”

Alastor hummed in contemplation. “Just to pack her bags,” he said.

“Where does your character even live?” Angel asked.

The Radio Demon cocked his head to the side as he rolled his eyes at Angel. “That is a mystery to us all,” he said dismissively. 

“Alastor,” Charlie replied with a sigh, “as your DM, I need to know where your character lives…” She frowned when Alastor's smile widened further and seemed insistent on staying silent. After looking down at her copy of his character sheet, she decided to give him a suggestion. “Sage background. Maybe she lives at the nearby magical university?”

“Sure, why not?” Alastor responded, “Dahlia goes back to her dorm to gather her belongings and leaves a thoughtful note at the Headmaster’s Office that she’s going on vacation, but won’t be dropping out.”

Charlie grinned, satisfied with Alastor’s answer. She turned her attention to the last person to speak and gestured her hand at Niffty to encourage her to announce her character’s business. Niffty acknowledged the silent request with a devilish response, “Teeheehee! If Roachie’s getting kicked out of Waterworld, he’s going to commit one last murder on the way out!”

With a disappointed pout, Charlie asked, “Wait, is Roachie a murderer?!”

Niffty cackled wickedly and shouted, “All the best bad boys are!” 

“Yes, indeed they are!” Alastor agreed.

“Great,” Angel responded with deadpan sarcasm. “We have a murderhobo in the group.”

Niffty wore an evil smile, but her voice carried a tone of naivety when she said, “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds cool!”

Angel answered her question, not meeting her eyes, “A character who wanders the game world and just kills NPCs will-nilly. No home, no goals, just some edgelord who plays this game like they’re a mindless fuckin’ psychopath.”

Vaggie leaned forward and gave Niffty a warning, “Niffty… There will be consequences for killing innocent people. Right, Charlie?” She looked at her girlfriend as though she were pleading for her to hold players accountable for their actions. Vaggie was worried Charlie would let Niffty get off of this behavior scott free. 

“Erm, yeah, Niffty…” Charlie twiddled her fingers nervously. “I’m going to be a nice DM and ask before I make a decision. Are you SURE you want to do that?”

Niffty laughed again. “Positive!”

A woman took a shortcut through a darkened alley to make her way home. She was carrying a bowl of leftover gumbo to take home. A horrified shriek echoed down in the sketchiest part of the city as she fell to the ground, a knife freshly plunged into her chest. Her final breath escaped her nostrils, and her eyes closed for the last time. Roachie licked his dagger clean. 

Angel groaned, “Ugh. Murderhobos are the worst.”

Chapter Text

The next Dungeons & Dragons session arrived quicker than Charlie expected. Her responsibilities at the hotel kept her mind so occupied that time flew right by her. It left her less prepared than she would have liked, but she knew she had no choice but to make do. The calming jazz Alastor had playing on his radio in the room helped ease Charlie’s nerves, even if only a little. 

Now, the good demons of the hotel were gathered around the table, some more eager to get started than others. Pentious seemed to be the most invested. He was sitting comfortably, spine straight and hands clapping quietly, so eager. It made Charlie happy to see. Vaggie and Alastor sat on either side of her, Vaggie looking happy and Alastor wearing a fake smile.

Charlie let out a sigh accompanied by a high-pitched whistle. “So!” she said, trying to appear confident. “How’s everyone feeling about the game so far?”

Alastor’s smile widened even further. He looked to his left and down at Charlie’s face. “Oh, I’m very much enjoying it, my dear. You’re doing an excellent job,” he replied, appearing relaxed. 

Husk and Vaggie saw right through his lie. Vaggie could see the wicked insincerity in his eyes and the effort he put into forcing his smile, and Husk knew his master well enough to know he would have little interest in a hobby such as this. Vaggie put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “It’s great! I’m having a lot of fun,” she answered in a loving and supportive tone. She bit her tongue when Alastor met her eyes with a smug and knowing smirk. She chose to say nothing to acknowledge it, not wishing to upset her girlfriend. 

“Holy crap, thank you! Thank you so much!” Charlie cheered as she pulled Vaggie and Alastor into a tight group hug. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t notice Alastor stiffen and curl his upper lip at the unprompted physical contact.

Niffty giggled and twirled a steak knife between her little fingers. “I’m loving it, Charlie!” she said with a sharp, toothy grin. “Roachie is just the kind of bad boy I would love to punish! Hehehehe!”

“Keep that shit to yourself, Niffty,” Husk grunted. “I don’t have any strong feelings one way or another; I’m just along for the ride. I’ll keep an open mind, though.” 

Charlie finally let go of Vaggie and Alastor, then nodded at Husk. “I appreciate your honesty,” she replied to him. “It’ll grow on you, Husk. I’m sure of it.” She was hopeful but uncertain in her words, knowing her preparation for this session might prove lackluster.

Angel sat back in his chair and hooked his knees over the wooden armrest. “I’m havin’ fun,” he said as he rested his head into his upper hands. “It could be better, but I think you’re doin’ well enough for someone who’s never been a Dungeon Master before.”

Pentious huffed, seeming impatient. “Can we get ssssstarted already?!” he demanded. “My invention needs to present the lich’s power to me-- erm, to their masssster!” 

Charlie’s heart bloomed with warmth to see Pentious’ zeal. It gave her a special sense of validation in her abilities to captivate her players and guide them to a path of heroism, even if only in a tabletop game. “Right, let’s get started. Ahem:” She cleared her throat and put on her best soft-spoken narrator voice. “Adventurers, you set sail on The Cherry, PX-1e’s keelboat. You’ve been at sea for a few days now. Tell me, while you have been sailing the waters of the Sword Coast, how have you been spending your days at sea?”

Niffty, who was sitting next to Alastor as usual, raised her hand high up in the air and yelled with a wide grin, “Oh! Roachie’s been a good boy-- erm, I mean a good BAD boy and has been busy reading the journal Dahlia gave me!” She looked up at Alastor as if seeking his approval. It worked. Alastor scratched the top of her head as if petting a well-behaved cat. 

Vaggie sighed and said, “I suppose I’ve been reading it, too. The more we know, the better, right?” 

“Yes!” Charlie replied with a nod, then continued in her previous narration voice. “You open the journal and read its contents. It’s written in sloppy handwriting and an older sea elf dialect, so some of it is difficult to read. What you CAN read is that Captain Viscera was pirating and pillaging the Sword Coast not just for personal gain, but in the name of the wicked ocean goddess Umberlee - also known as the Wavemother and the Bitch Queen.”

Husk cocked his head to the side upon hearing the strange name and said, “You shitting me, Charlie? The fuck kinda name is ‘Bitch Queen’?!” 

Angel put his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hold back his laughter, but he couldn’t hold it in when he spoke, “Look, Whiskers, the lore of D&D can get pretty goddamn weird. A goddess named ‘Bitch Queen’ is nothin’ compared to shit like giant space hamsters and evil squid aliens who reproduce by puttin’ their sperm in your eye.” 

“Oooouuuugh!” Niffty beamed. “How scandalous! I’d like to meet one. Will I meet one? Oh, please say yes, Charlie! I think Roachie would fall in love.”

Vaggie disregarded the crass comments of the others and continued her line of questions. She poked Charlie on her forearm and asked, “Should I roll for investigation or something to find any leads in the journal?”

Charlie paused and hummed. “Eh, no no, no rolls necessary,” she answered. “It may be in an older dialect, but Elvish is still your native language. The Captain’s journal also says stuff about a big spooky evil lair on an island near a shrine to Umberlee. The journal looks decades if not centuries old, so does this place even still exist? Let’s see if you can figure that out!”

Pentious raised his hand and said before Charlie could tell him to speak up, “PX-1e is an expert ssssailor! Give me a map, and I shall guide ussss to victory!”

“Great!” Charlie replied. “You can roll either survival to navigate your map, or roll religion to find Umberlee holy sites.”

“I’m a cleric; so I have proficiency in religion,” Vaggie said. “Pentious, how about you roll survival, and I roll religion? Alastor, you’re proficient in history. Maybe you could roll history to see if you can recall where this famous lich comes from? Husk, you--”

“Actually,” Charlie interjected. “Let’s make this simpler. Just one intelligence check with advantage.”

Vaggie nodded. “Right, that simplifies things. Uh, I cast Guidance on myself and…” she rolled a pair of d20 dice. “A 7 and a 19, nice!”

Charlie clapped and replied in an approving voice, “With the power of friendship and cooperation, you’re able to narrow things down to a remote island about 20 to 30 days away.” 

Niffty placed her hands on her cheeks and gasped. “A whole month?! Roachie can’t sit still for an entire month!”

Angel spoke up to reassure Niffty. “Calm down, shortstack! Having a month just means we have downtime. We can spend it improvin’ our skills, right Charlie?” 

Charlie nodded in response. “Yes! With a whole month ahead of you, feel free to check the Player’s Handbook on downtime activities. You’re on a boat, so your options aren’t exactly vast, but you can still find ways to practice your skills and spells.” 

Throughout the month, the intrepid adventurers found ways to keep themselves busy aboard The Cherry. The rations held up well after Dahlia gave the cargo room a “lady’s touch,” but Roachie decided to befriend some of the filthy vermin hiding in the corners of the lower deck. He called them Roachie’s Roaches, much to the disgust of the more sanitary crew. When he found a rat, he roasted it and ate it. Vaez kept spirits high when playing their violin and cracking jokes with the other passengers. Lorae spent her days and nights praying to Eilistraee for guidance and inscribing various scrolls of her magical healing spells; she expected the journey ahead to be perilous. Dahlia took one of Lorae’s Scrolls of Revivify to study for herself. Husk simply kept his skills sharp; sparring or low-stakes gambling with this group he found himself strung along with. Pixie was busy handling the boat and maintaining the ballista, making sure it would be ready to fire if they needed it.

27 days came and went faster than they had thought. Just as they were getting comfortable aboard The Cherry, a strip of land revealed itself on the horizon. 

“Land ho!” Pixie called out on that bright afternoon.

Cheers sounded across the boat. Lorae gave a quiet thanks to her goddess for their luck. Dahlia, who was reading in the cargo bay, teleported to the top deck to see the view of the beach. Vaez and Roachie jumped for joy and began to sing and dance with each other. Husk seemed less than enthusiastic when he heard a suspicious noise coming from the shore. His keen feline ears twitched when he heard it. Singing. Beautiful voices carrying a seductive melody on the warm summer winds.

Charlie grinned with both excitement and nervousness. “Everyone, please roll a DC 12 wisdom save!”

“Wait, what?!” Pentious exclaimed.

Charlie nodded at Pentious and said, “Sirens! Seductive mermaid creatures that lure sailors to their deaths with their musical numbers. You hear them singing, and you’ll have to pass a DC 12 wisdom save to resist their alluring song.”

Husk grumbled and said, “Charlie, this is the second time you’ve had us roll dice to not lose our minds to music.”

“Well, yeah,” Charlie replied, carrying a tone as if the circumstances should be plainly obvious. “Music is magical and amazing. Don’t you lose yourself in songs all the time? Now come on, show me your wisdom saves!”

The sound of dice rolling and clinking sounded across the periwinkle tablecloth. Vaggie quietly cheered at her natural 20 and Pentious seethed when he saw his natural 1. The other players stared disappointedly at their dice. All but Vaggie failed. 

“This is complete rubbish!” Alastor protested. Charlie widened her eyes at Alastor’s first genuinely emotional response to the game. His smile turned sharp in exasperated disbelief. “They have nothing to offer that could tempt me. I am immune to such crass charms!”

Husk snorted. “That’s not what the dice say,” he said flippantly. Suddenly, he pawed at his neck, feeling pressure tighten at the invisible chain around his neck. His eyes met Alastor’s. The Radio Demon’s eyes briefly glowed a brighter red. Husk gulped in fear, and Alastor relaxed, the chain relenting. 

“I have an idea! I have the Calm Emotions spell,” Vaggie declared as looked down at her spell list. Her finger stroked the paper as she read aloud the spell description, “ ‘You attempt to suppress strong emotions in a group of people. Each humanoid in a 20-foot-radius sphere centered on a point you choose within range must make a Charisma saving throw; a creature can choose to fail this saving throw if it wishes. If a creature fails its saving throw, choose one of the following two effects. You can suppress any effect causing a target to be charmed or frightened. When this spell ends, any suppressed effect resumes, provided that its duration has not expired in the meantime.’ ” She looked back up at Charlie and continued her line of thought, “I can use this spell to end the sirens’ charm effect so long as everyone stays within 20 feet of me, right?” 

Charlie nodded in response. “Yeah. So long as Lorae doesn't break her concentration, everyone’s free from the charm effect, but everyone will have to reroll if your concentration ends,” Charlie said, then thought again about providing a challenge to her players, then added a complication, “Except Pixie- sorry, PX-1e.”

“I beg your finesssst pardon?!” Pentious’ frustrated glare turned darker and hotter. He stood tall from his chair and crashed his fists on the table. “WHY?!”

Charlie poked her index fingers together. “You crit failed, so Lorae’s spell doesn’t work on you. I’m sorry to say it, but you remain under the siren’s charm. Uh…” she paused and considered the effects of the sirens’ song. She picked up Pentious’ character token - a small golden figurine of a robot - and moved it away from the ship and toward the direction of the shore. “So… Pixie jumps overboard and tries to swim to the sirens.”

Pentious fell back into his seat with a long frown and crossed arms. He slouched onto the backrest of the chair, his forked tongue hissing quietly. A heavy breath in and out his nose calmed him down somewhat. After taking a few seconds, he remained furious, but more collected as he said, “One of you musssst rescue my precioussss minion from being disassembled by foul mermaids THIS INSTANT!” His attempts to dampen his anger evaporated at the end of his sentence. 

An idea came to Angel’s mind. He snapped his finger and pointed at Alastor. “Hey, Smiles,” he called to him.

“Yes?”

“Dally’s got wings. Maybe she should swoop in and save Pixie’s robo-ass?” Angel suggested.

Alastor chuckled smugly, reveling in the idea of having someone’s fate tied between his fingers. He mused, “Ah, of course, Dahlia does have very elegant wings indeed. Very well. With a strength score of 8, she’s unlikely able to carry the metal simpleton, but a trusty Levitation spell should do the trick. Man the ship, you four, Dahlia has a less-than-buoyant box of metal to fetch from mortal peril.” 

Lorae was focused on her continuing spell to save her new friends from the siren’s call. Along with chanting her spell, she could only pray to her goddess that the others could take control of the ship and end the siren threat. 

“I need to save my roaches!” Roachie screamed. He dashed toward the trapdoor leading to the cargo deck and jumped down. The door above him slammed shut. 

It was up to Vaez and Husk to sail the keelboat to safety. They looked at each other hopelessly; neither of them knew how to run a boat. The Cherry sailed in the correct direction, towards the shore. Soon, all of them were able to see the sirens singing together on the beach. Unlike their soft and enchanting voices, their physical appearance betrayed their real nature. They were a trio of scaly greenish blue serpents with four arms, crested heads, sharp claws, finned tails, rows of jagged teeth like sharks, and human-like faces. They slithered in a circle, as though putting on a performance. One of them made direct eye contact with Lorae, scowling upon seeing the drow woman chanting a spell counteracting their own.

The inexperience Vaez and Husk had in sailing paid its price; the boat was heading straight for a cleft of sharp rocks. Roachie emerged from the cargo bay, shoving live cockroaches into his pockets. He summoned his soul knives into his palms, ready for the impending crash and the fight that would surely follow. He saw the sirens as beautiful creatures, but Lorae’s spell kept his thoughts in line. Just before the ship crashed onto the land, the adventurers all dived overboard to escape the impact. 

“Vaggie, you just jumped into the water. Please roll to keep your concentration,” Charlie requested. “A 1 to 9 is a failure. A 10 to 20 is a success.”

Vaggie did as asked. “Shit!” she exclaimed when her die showed her a measly 3.

Charlie frowned and seemed truly sad when she explained, “Oh no! Your spell ends. Dahlia, Husk, Vaez, Roachie, please reroll your DC 12 wisdom saves! Lorae, your critical success from before means you automatically succeed. PX-1e, your critical failure… means you fail this one, too. I’m sorry!” 

Pentious said nothing. He simply continued to pout and hiss in his helplessness. His red slitted eyes were locked on the map in the middle of the table, glaring bitter resentment at the free will of the other players. He fidgeted his nails on his crossed elbows as his eyes narrowed even further.

The other players rolled their dice. Alastor looked much more pleased at his own die when he saw a 13. “Ah, much better!” he said. “Dahlia is above these temptations, as any reasonable person should be.” He looked around the table to see the others didn’t look as satisfied with their rolls as he was, and for good reason. Once again, Husk, Niffty, and Angel sighed at dice that seemed determined to see them fail. Their disappointment cheered the Radio Demon up. His satisfaction didn’t last long, however.

Vaggie sank into her seat as her eyebrows crossed when she looked at Alastor. She was not looking forward to having to work with him and him alone to save the rest of the party. 

Lorae struggled against the tidal currents when she jumped off the boat to avoid the crash. The ocean flooded her sinuses with salty water as the force of the waves shoved her face into the wet, thick sand. She desperately scrambled to the shore and wiped her eyes clean from the mud, only to see her companions shambling like zombies toward the foul sirens. 

The monsters stopped dancing in a circle and faced their victims, opening their arms as if inviting an embrace. Their song continued, louder and more captivating than ever. As they sang, they looked at their helpless prey and began to foam at the mouth. Pixie, hopelessly charmed, slowly wandered towards the mermaids beckoning them. A siren wrapped her claws around Pixie’s shoulder and ripped their arm clean out of the socket. Severed cables spewed out electric sparks and bits of black oil, but the warforged remained enraptured and helpless as before. Their flashlight head blinked a pink light, as though reciting a love poem in morse code.

Lorae coughed up seawater and leaned on her broadsword to stand back up on her feet. A suspiciously clean hand grabbed her shoulder. Lorae spun around and lifted her sword, but lowered it when she saw Dahlia grinning at her. 

Dahlia laughed wickedly. “Point that blade of yours at our real enemy, drow,” she spat. The palm of her free hand and her malicious eyes started to glow a brilliant purple light. Dahlia flapped her wings and launched into the air. She shouted, “Detono!” A crash of thunder shattered the bedding of sand beneath the sirens following Dahlia’s spell. They covered their ears at the booming sound of an explosion. 

One of the sirens stopped her singing when her voice cracked. Her slit pupils dilated and the whole of her eyes turned solid black in rage. She hissed and squealed as she charged towards Lorae, massive claws brandished and ready to dig into Lorae’s soft, delicious flesh. Lorae dodged out of the way of the attack and countered by plunging her sword into the siren’s back. She pulled her sword back out, splashes of deep violet fish blood squirting from the impact and dripping down the blade. The siren shrieked in pain and spun around. Thick, sharp claws sank into Lorae’s left arm. Lorae screamed and tried to yank her arm free. Another loud crash sounded from beside Lorae, and the siren ripping into her was suddenly shoved aside by a violent force. 

“You’re welcome!” Dahlia said with a sense of superiority tinged in her voice. Her Thunderwave spell saved Lorae from being mauled. Lorae huffed and nodded at Dahlia with gratitude. 

The siren was sent spiraling off to the side, and she crashed into the base of a palm tree headfirst. Her concussed skull sent more blood squirting out of her mouth and nose. She scrambled upwards, but only to feel the tip of a blade slice across her neck from behind. Lorae dug her blade even deeper, cutting the siren’s head off cleanly. The siren’s torso fell forward onto the tree and her blood stained the sand beneath her. 

Lorae tossed the severed head aside like a soiled cloth. She whispered a small healing spell into her arm and pointed her sword to the sky to cast her Calm Emotions spell once again. “Vincere est vivere!” she called out. An orb of soft golden light bursted out from her sword and washed over her companions. Vaez, Husk, and Roachie came to their senses.

Angel snickered mischievously. “It’s finally my turn, and oh-ho-ho, I know just what to do now! Time to give these fish broads a taste of their own meds and do what bards do best!” he said as his eyes moved back and forth in a silly contemplation. “I’m a changeling. I change into the form of a merman, take out my violin, and roll to seduce one of the sirens! Charlie, am I rollin’ performance or persuasion for this one?”

Charlie leaned her elbows onto the table and lowered her face into her hands. With an exasperated groan, she whispered to herself, “Ugh, I should have expected this…” She took a few moments to collect her disappointment, then looked back up at Angel. Her hands still covered her mouth to hide her long frown, but her half-closed eyes and crossed brows betrayed her irritation. “Fine,” she said, “just roll performance.” She closed her eyes and simply listened to the die rolling. When she opened them, she looked down at Angel’s die and saw the number 17.

Angel was clearly satisfied with himself. He wore a wide, self-congratulatory grin as he rested his chin onto his palm. “I have a plus 16 to performance,” he said in a low voice. “Charlie, I take it a 33 passes?” 

Charlie planted her forehead onto the table as she shook her fists in the air. Her hands quickly collapsed into her scalp and she groaned even louder. “Yes,” she whimpered in defeat. “Yes yes, a 33 works. Vaez manages to… seduce a siren. Go ahead.” 

Vaez’s body lurched, twisted, and contorted into a new form. Their soft pale skin hardened into silver scales as their white hair thickened and molded into tentacles. The scrawny changeling quickly became a buff merman, muscles angular and a chin sharp enough to cut a diamond. Vaez started to play their violin. Their eyes, one opal and one onyx, looked straight into the gaze of one of the sirens. The changeling gave her a sly smirk and motioned their lips as though they blew her kiss. The siren’s blue cheeks flushed a blazing purple. Her song shifted to a flirtatious hum as she slithered to the hunk of a merman before her. She placed her hands on his muscular abdomen and licked her long, slimy tongue on his neck. The merman lowered his violin and led the siren to what remained of the captain’s cabin of The Cherry. 

Husk quietly got up from his chair and started to make his way out of the room. Charlie stood and lifted her finger as though to say something, but Vaggie beat her to it. “Husk!” she yelled. “Where are you going?!”

Husk turned his head. “I’m getting some more liquor,” he said. “I’m gonna need it if I’m going to make it through Angel’s bullshit.”

“Oh, and Husker,” Alastor addressed. “Do pour me a couple fingers of rye, would you? Thank you, darling.” His voice was full of ridicule.

Angel decided to place an order to the assigned waiter as well. “Can ya get me some cheese sticks, pussy cat?” Husk simply grunted and gave Angel and Alastor the middle finger before leaving the room.

Once Husk was out of the room, Niffty raised her hand. She had a devilish simper from ear to ear on her face. Alastor looked at her with his own smile, as though giving her a wordless award. Charlie held her hand out to Niffty and said, “Got an idea, Niff?”

“Oh boy, do I! Can I roll for stealth?” Niffty asked, shaking in anticipation. She continued in a low, menacing voice, “I have a plan! I’m going to follow them, and I have a PERFECT surprise!”

Angel’s playful smirk quickly turned upside down when he heard that. He was taken aback and unsettled by the notion. “‘Scuse me, shorty? I don’t think you should. I don’t even know what freaky shit fishfolk get up to durin’ sex.”

“For once, I agree with Angel,” Alastor responded. “My dearest Niffty, I doubt you--”

Niffty cut both of them off with crossing both of her arms dramatically. “No no, really! You’ll like my surprise, I promise! Even you, Alastor, especially you!”

Vaggie decided to sway the topic back on track. “Okay okay, look, one siren is left and Pentious is still charmed, so the rest of us need to take care of her. When Husk comes back, Alastor and I will have to finish this off.”

Pentious still simmered in the pot of his own anger. His temper boiled and burst out of the bitter soup. “Angel Dusssst, I demand you keep blood and cum sssstains off the remains of my beautiful ship, or there shall be Hell to pay! You hear me?! HELL! The whole time, I’ve been completely--”

A loud creak from the door to the dining room interrupted Pentious’ incoming rant. Husk returned from the kitchen with a large bowl of cheese sticks, a bottle of cheap beer, and two shots of whiskey for Alastor. He set the items at their respective spots on the table. “Alright, what did I miss?” Husk asked as he crashed into his seat.

Charlie’s face rested in the palms of both of her hands. As she looked up at Husk, her fingers pulled her lower eyelids down as though peeling down wrapping paper. She looked entirely distraught, with her brows wrinkling her forehead. With a large and fed up exhale, she answered Husk’s question, “Vaez is doing the do with the siren and Roachie is… watching, I guess?”

Niffty vibrated in her chair as she said with an energetic giggle in her voice, “Don’t worry, it’s all part of the plan!” Husk simply buried his forehead into his paw. 

The final siren growled as she stopped singing. Why bother when that morsel of a drow insisted on pulling her meals out of their charmed stupor? Rage and fear crushed her heart when she realized just how outnumbered she was, laced with jealousy that her darling sister got to take that lucious beefcake of a merman to bed. She knew her only hope was to flee, and so she tried to dash and slither away while she still had her scales intact. 

Husk, ever the perceptive feline warlock, noticed the siren’s feeble attempt at escape. He wouldn’t let this seductress lure another sailor to their death. He held out his paw and his patron’s dark magic expelled from his claws. The siren felt a wave of eldritch magic envelop her entire body, like an octopus trapping its prey in its tentacles. She found herself helpless and completely unable to move. A wet and sharp crunch from behind. Steel pierced her chest, and the heat was the last thing she felt before the warlock, the cleric, and the wizard scorched her body in fire and holy light.

“Vile monsters,” Lorae said, catching her breath after the battle. “Death is too good for them.”

Dahlia wiped the sweat from her brow. “You’re one to talk, drow,” she retorted, pretending to be entirely unbothered. “As if such sorry harlots could possibly get the best of me. Now then, I do believe we have an inadequate warforged to repair?”

Pixie’s eye stopped blinking a pink light and went back to its usual steady yellow. They shook their head frantically as they came back to their senses. “Missing parts detected… My arm. MY ARM!” The warforged let out a series of loud electric honk sounds like a machine being bombarded with critical errors. Pixie’s shoulder socket spat out more dim sparks as they picked up their severed arm and tried to reattach it. “This will take HOURS to fix!”

Husk ignored Pixie and instead looked around, confused. “Where the fuck are Roachie and Vaez?” 

Lorae pointed at the remains of the captain’s cabin of The Cherry. The door to it burst open. A siren’s corpse fell out with stab wounds covering her body from head to tail. Vaez, back to their true changeling form, emerged fully clothed, with Roachie following behind them drenched in violet mermaid blood. The pair gave each other a high five, basking in the wonders of trickery and teamwork. Roachie dispelled his magical knives, the purple liquid dripping to the broken floor. 

Laughter erupted from the gaming table. All of the players regaled the events of the fight with satisfaction and contentment, all except Pentious. As the others laughed about the session, Pentious melted backwards into his chair. He watched their expressions intently, feeling indignation at each and every one of them. Angel and Niffty praised each other over their actions to sneakily dispose of an enemy. Vaggie patted Charlie on the back, and Charlie looked back at her with cheerful smile. Husk’s usual discourteous demeanor lightened, and he seemed more upbeat. He poured everyone a shot of whiskey. Even Alastor chuckled at the events of the session. But what about himself? Cast off to the side, shafted, rendered helpless with a simple unlucky roll. Pentious usually expressed his emotions with such a dramatic flair, but this time, he felt just too damn tired to even bother. Even as he slinked away from the room full of whimsy and hysterics, no one noticed.

But Vaggie noticed. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a snake in a tall hat and a black striped coat leave the room without so much as a goodbye. She pecked Charlie on the cheek and promised she would be right back.

Pentious slowly made his way down the hall towards his room when he felt a hand gently grab his shoulder from behind. He flinched and looked behind him, seeing Vaggie looking up at him with a concerned frown. 

“Hey,” Vaggie said. She studied Pentious’ expression and replayed the events of the game in her memory. The downturn of his lips and hunched back gave away exactly what was bothering him. “That was some crappy luck for you, wasn’t it?”

Pentious pouted, his eyebrows crossing. He felt defeated, like a single dice roll mocked how he felt about himself in his afterlife; useless. But he wouldn’t admit that, and he bit his tongue instead. 

Vaggie took a step closer and looked him straight in the eyes, giving him all the sympathy she could afford. “Look, Pentious, it’s just a game. Everyone in that room back there is only looking to have a good time,” she reassured.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pentious spat, frustrated. He turned his head away. “It’s jussst bad luck that I didn’t even get to play at all when I had ONE bad roll, right?!”

Vaggie looked down, thinking. She remembered his single critical failure, something that wasn’t even his fault. It was true Pentious had next to no agency this session because of it. “Oh shit,” she cursed. “Bad luck happens, but yeah, Charlie screwed that up. I’ll talk to her, okay? A player shouldn’t have to sit out an entire session because of one roll.” Her sorrow deepened when Pentious didn’t respond. Something clicked in the back of her mind, a puzzle piece locking into place. She walked in front of him to meet his eyes head-on. “Pentious, if it wasn’t for your character, we wouldn’t have made it to the island. YOU got us there! Your character’s ship can be fixed, and it’s not like a robot can’t reattach their limb, you know? We’ll make it work, and I’ll make sure you and everyone else gets their special moments to shine.”

Finally, Pentious’ frown faltered and turned up just a little bit. He nodded silently, and his lips slowly formed a small smile. “Thank you, Vagatha,” he said just above a whisper and walked away. Vaggie didn’t bother to correct him on her name this time.

He threw the door to his room open. The egg bois gathered around and awaited their master’s orders. Pentious scowled at them like a tyrant in rage. He pointed down at them and yelled, “Ssssoldiers! Shower me with compliments and flattery immediately! On the double!”

From across the small crowd of eggs, low voices chirped, “You’re the best, mightiest, and scariest boss ever, boss!” “Oh boy, you’re just pretty swell!” “Will you shoot ME with your raygun next?” 

The egg bois competed with each other in a match to be Hell’s greatest sycophant. Pentious drank in their brown-nosing, using their compliments as the adhesive that could repair his shattered pride. He grinned, and as he listened to the endless flattery of his minions, he shut off the light. “That’s the ssssstuff! Now ssssilence, minions! It is bedtime,” he announced as he curled up on his bed. The eggs bounced and rolled to cuddle the snake as he went to sleep.

Chapter Text

The bar at the Hazbin Hotel was quiet that evening. Husk was reorganizing the liquor cabinet and taking inventory alone. The lights were dim, just bright enough to let everyone know that the service was still open. Alastor’s radio box on the shelf played classical piano songs to fill the void of sound that chatty patrons would usually cover.

“Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve…” Husk pointed his finger at each individual slot in the refrigerator as he counted the amount of servings left on each item. He jotted down something on the clipboard. 

His concentration was shattered when he heard the front door to the hotel burst open and then slam with a whistling creak. Angel came barging in. Dark grey bags sagged under his eyelids, his fur and hair were frazzled all over, and his corset was crooked. He fell into a stool at Husk’s bar with a loud thud.

“Another shit day at the studio?” Husk asked with barely any emotion in his voice. He carried a tone as if repeating a memorized script. He knew the drill at this point.

Angel set his upper elbows onto the counter and let his head fall into his palms. “You have no idea…” he answered, his voice cracking in weariness.

“Look, drinking to forget your problems isn’t going to help,” Husk advised. He slid a glass of ice water in Angel’s direction before Angel could even place an order.

The exhausted spider nodded in appreciation at the offered water. He took a sip and replied, “I’m not lookin’ to drink to forget, at least not tonight. I just wanna cold beer to cool off. That’s all. But damn, do I hate my fuckin’ job sometimes.” He pointed to the beer tap. “Somethin’ frosty. Gimme a pale ale with some foam.”

Husk started to pour Angel’s order. “If you hate your job so much, why continue to pretend to be some kind of sex symbol in that dice rolling game?” he asked as he topped off the beer with some foam. “I thought you’d want some escapism from it all. You had the opportunity to be anything else, but why keep torturing yourself by being the thing you hate being?” He handed Angel the icy drink, accompanied by an empathetic upturn of his lips.

“Yeah, I remember ya mentioned that at session zero,” Angel responded. He took a long swig of his drink, then set it back down on the counter with a gravely exhale. Looking back up at Husk with a tired expression, he continued, “I’ll level with ya; truth is, I feel like I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t just drop it, even among friends. I dunno, it doesn’t make sense to me either. You and Cherri are the only people I can really let go around.”

“C’mon, Angel, you think Charlie and the others give a shit if you keep that stupid mask on?” Husk asked, rolling his eyes. “If anything, Charlie would be over the moon to see… what’s the term, ‘character development’?”

Angel started to run his fingers through his hair and straighten his clothes, maintaining his image as he spoke, “I want people to see me a certain way just to feel comfortable in my own skin, so I guess I just gotta keep that mask on, y’know?”

“Hmm…” Husk eyed Angel up and down, observing his meticulous attempt to repair his appearance to suit his narrative. “Is that why you went with the shape changing race?”

Angel paused to consider, then nodded. “Huh… Yeah. I think it is. I think havin’ the ability to change what I look like at will, to appear as someone I’m not… I think that’s the escapism I’m really after.”

Husk smiled, satisfied with Angel’s answer. Angel returned the smile with a wide one of his own. Playfully, he turned the conversation around by saying, “And are ya REALLY the one to talk after the ‘character’ you made? A cat boy named Husk who gambled his soul away. Ya didn’t even hide that he’s a self-insert. What about YOUR escapism, huh?” 

“Pfft, you think I felt creative?” Husk laughed back at him with a wave of his paw. “And, well, maybe my own escapism is to go on an adventure as myself, rather than as someone else. I think I’d rather just be me, no matter where I go.” 

“Makes sense.” Angel chugged down the last of his frosty ale and licked his lips. “Ah, that hits the spot, lemme tell ya!”

“Want another one?” Husk asked, pointing at Angel’s empty glass.

“Nah, just some more water. I don’t wanna be hung over for tomorrow’s session!” Angel replied. He downed the ice water Husk gave him in a lengthy series of gulps. “Y’know, if I could let go of the horny bard persona, I think I’d be a paladin.”

Husk laughed heartily from deep in his gut. “A paladin? YOU?!” he said in disbelief. “Some holy knight in shining fucking armor?”

Angel giggled, too. “Yeah, I’d be a beefy fucker in gold plate, smiting’ bad guys with a big ass hammer and givin’ exactly zero shits if people think my Oath is stupid.” He relaxed forward onto the countertop and thought about Vaez, the scrawny changeling violinist. Angel formed his index finger and thumb into the shape of a zero, and looked at the circle of his fingers as he thought of the ‘give zero shits’ sentiment. The idea of such unapologetic behavior made him smile. “Heh, maybe I’ll multiclass Vaez into a paladin when the time is right.” 

From under the counter, a diminutive cyclops popped into the scene. Niffty leapt onto the wooden surface and laughed maniacally right in Angel’s face. “Hehehehe! Vaez is one of the Vees, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” 

Husk and Angel flinched at Niffty’s sudden appearance. Angel dropped his glass, the remaining ice spilling onto the floor. Husk started to berate Niffty for her intrusion. “Jeez, Niffty, how long were you hiding under there? You can’t just sneak up on people like that! You trying to give us a goddamn heart attack?!”

Angel interrupted his scolding, “Oh shit, Vaez and Vees do sound real fuckin’ familiar, don’t they?” Angel watched Niffty clean up the spilled ice, ever the diligent maid she was. She was smiling and humming a jazzy tune. Husk simply grumbled at the situation. Angel, however, widened his eyes at the realization. He hadn’t noticed let alone considered the similarity in the names before, then he decided he was too sober to think of all the ways someone could psychoanalyze the hidden meaning there. “Hey, Whiskers,” he called out to Husk. “I changed my mind; maybe I could use another drink. Just some red wine.”

Niffty swiftly put the spilled ice cubes in the nearby wastebasket, then climbed onto a stool and sat down with crossed legs. “Work’s done! I’ll have a blood orange margarita with less ice and one of those adorable little umbrellas in it, extra salt on the rim and just a splash of lemon juice, please!”

Husk chuckled. “Coming right up, losers.”

Chapter Text

The hotel residents sat around their circular table with the periwinkle tablecloth, ready for their next Dungeons & Dragons game. Charlie did her best to appear confident, but under her feigned poise was dread; she had a certain chat with Vaggie just the previous week about how her attempt to provide a challenge led to Pentious feeling excluded from the game. She tried to instill within herself a new resolve, but the knot in her stomach tightened when she saw Pentious’ exaggerated pout staring back at her. Charlie scanned the faces of the other players, to try to gauge a temperature check. Husk maintained his unreadable poker face, which didn’t help Charlie’s confidence. Alastor looked disinterested in the game as ever, despite his signature grin. Niffty and Angel, however, looked excited for the game to start, which helped Charlie feel a little better. Vaggie gave Charlie a reassuring pat on the back and an encouraging smile.

The princess took in a deep breath to collect her nerves, then exhaled with a subtle whistle. “Thanks for coming, everyone!” she announced, burying her tension behind her voice. “Last session was…”

“Hot,” Angel interrupted.

“Fun!” Niffty exclaimed.

“A disassster,” Pentious sneered.

Vaggie frowned at Pentious’ reaction, seeing he was still hurt by the results of the previous session. “Let’s just focus on what can be done. We’re stranded on an island with a broken boat- erm, ship.” She looked at Pentious when she corrected herself. “Some of us are injured, Lorae and Dahlia are low on spell slots, and we’re running low on rations. I’d say step one is to repair the ship and gather food.”

Angel was quick to disagree, “Fixin’ the boat could take days, and the more time we waste, the further away the Captain Boner goes. I say we cut our losses and just chase the skelly.”

Vaggie shook her head at Angel. “We need to have a long rest. I’m the healer, and I’m out of spell slots. We’ll catch up to the lich, but we need to be ready. We need food, rest, and a way to go home if we need to escape.”

Niffty raised her hand and spoke up before anyone called on her, “Alastor, Dahlia’s a necromancer. Use Animate Dead on the fish ladies and get them to fix the boat!”

“Ah, a lovely idea as always, Niffty dear,” Alastor replied. 

Dahlia gathered the bodies of the fallen sirens, one burned, one full of stab wounds, and one with a missing head. Her eyes began to glow a bright green, a foul and wicked color, as she gestured her slender fingers at the corpses to rise up from the ground. The fatal injuries covering the bodies of the sirens lit up with the same sickly green glowing smoke coursing out of Dahlia’s eyes. Their bodies arose from death as meat puppets to Dahlia’s will.

“Get to work on repairing this boat, servants,” Dahlia ordered. She clapped her hands together twice sharply. “Off you go to work now, shoo!”

Roachie beamed at the sight, marveling in Dahlia’s necromantic power. “That’s so cool!” he whispered to himself, staring in awe. 

Vaggie smiled at Alastor, truly a rare sight. Alastor noticed and simply rolled his eyes at her dismissively. “Great,” Vaggie said with a sigh before Alastor could say something snarky, then turned her attention to Pentious, eager to calm his apprehension. “Pentious, I have the Mending spell. I can fix your arm.” Vaggie paused to consider rekindling Pentious’ enthusiasm for the game, then continued her line of thinking. “In fact, I can use the Mending spell to help repair your ship, too.”

Pentious’ expression softened, and he nodded at Vaggie with a grin. “Excellent! My minion deserves only the bessst maintenance in this mission! PX-1e shall sssupervise these undead cretins and expect nothing lesssss than perfection in repairs! Onwards, zombie slaves, ressstore The Cherry to her former glory!”

Charlie placed her hands on her chest and smiled warmly at Pentious with a soft, quiet squeal upon seeing him having faith in the campaign once again. She then looked to Husk, who was silently sipping away at his mug. “Husk, you’ve been quiet so far. Any thoughts?” 

“Hmph,” Husk grunted. “I think I have an idea…”

Hours passed in the world of Toril. Pixie, Dahlia, and Lorae stayed behind with the undead sirens, allowing Lorae to mend Pixie’s arm and making sure the repairs were nothing short of excellent, while the Vaez, Roachie, and Husk split off to hunt and forage for supplies. 

Dahlia supervised her zombified sirens as they toiled away at The Cherry. “Faster, slaves! Chop chop!” she demanded, standing atop a rock overlooking The Cherry.

The golden light emanating from Lorae’s hand dimmed as her healing and mending spells ended, and she rubbed Pixie’s shoulder joint, the severed arm successfully reconnected.

“How are you feeling, PX?” Lorae asked.

Pixie curled their shoulder in a circular motion and twiddled their fingers. “Good as new,” they replied. “Gratitude protocol engaged: thank you, doctor.”

Lorae chuckled humbly. “Think nothing of it, and I am no doctor. The Dark Dancer teaches her followers to show compassion for the injured.”

Dahlia scoffed in response and whispered something to herself in Infernal. Lorae and Pixie couldn’t understand what she said, but her aloof nature insinuated that her comment was anything but kind.

The sun was starting to set over the horizon. Pinks and purples decorated the sky and shimmered on the ocean waves. Vaez and Roachie returned to the site of the beach. Roachie dragged the freshly killed corpse of a wild boar behind him, the meat already tenderized from being stabbed repeatedly. Vaez, however, looked disheveled and filthy; covered in banana peels, bruises, and excrement.

Roachie looked at Vaez’s physical state and laughed in their face. “Well, you look like shit in more ways than one. What happened to you?” he asked.

Vaez sighed. “Got unlucky with a troop of monkeys when I went foraging for bananas.” Without further elaboration, the Vaez set his rapier down on the sand and dove into the ocean waters, rinsing off the filth from their pearly white skin and leather armor. 

Another hour passed, but Husk had not returned quite yet. Vaez, wanting to make up for their lack of gathered food, set up a campfire. Dahlia got the fire going, courtesy of some wizard magic to ignite the wood. The boar Roachie killed proved to be more than enough for their meal on the beach. As the adventurers began to roast the prey, a certain tabaxi warlock emerged from the jungle trees. Husk had a handful of coconuts and lemons cradled in his arms, ready to make just the perfect beverage to compliment fresh pork.

Niffty clapped excitedly at Husk’s idea. “Oooooh!” she beamed. “Cocktails with piggy meat? Sounds like a delicious picnic on the beach!” 

“Doing what you do best, I see. Ever the servile bartender,” Alastor teased at Husk.

The tabaxi cracked open on the coconuts and mixed in juice squirted straight out of the lemons into the coconut milk as Roachie and Dahlia worked together to roast the boar. Vaez returned to the boat, desperate to see if their precious violin survived the crash. They were relieved to find the violin untouched by the carnage of the fight. Vaez wrapped their arms around the violin and held it close, as if hugging a reunited friend. 

Charlie let out a soft squeak as she put her hands on her cheeks. “Aww, Angel, that’s so cute!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling when imagining the endearing scene. “Your bard loves their musical gizmo like a best friend!”

Angel nodded in approval. “Of course! And Vaez also shapeshifts into an elf broad with massive tits when they play the violin around the campfire for everyone. Get ready for a show, motherfuckers!”

Vaez, taking the form of a curvaceous elf maiden, got down to their performance as soon as possible. Their violin, now clean and dry, played a slow and relaxing melody to accompany Vaez’s sensual love songs. The party appreciated Vaez’s special way of helping everyone relax from their stressful predicaments - the lich, the fight with the sirens, the broken boat - and relaxing songs helped everyone forget about their problem, even if only for this moment. Dahlia, however, seemed to be tuning out the words of the songs, wanting only to enjoy music sans the lyrics singing of bedroom talk. The bard took notice, and stopped playing their violin briefly to speak.

“Y’know, Wings-and-Horns, if I’ve got you all flustered, I could give you your own private show,” Vaez said in a low and flirtatious tone, eyebrows rising up and down suggestively.

Dahlia gave Vaez an unamused stare. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll order my zombies to whack you upside the head, shifter,” she retorted with her voice flat and flippant.

Husk cracked open the coconuts with one of Roachie’s many daggers. He blended a fusion of berries and lemon juice into the shells and shook the concoction with the flourish of a mixologist at work. The adventurers feasted on roasted boar coconut berry lemonade, except for Pixie, who instead refilled their steam engine with ocean water. The food was filling, but the silence was palpable. Husk, ever the gracious host, chose to be the first to break the ice. “So, Miss Thesryn,” he started, his gaze meeting Lorae’s bright red eyes. “You seem like a very compassionate lady.”

Lorae noticed the implication, a sentiment she was used to by now. “Many are used to drow being treacherous and tyrannical to outsiders. I don’t blame their prejudices; my people have earned your distrust.”

“Hey!” Roachie spat. “I didn’t do nothin’!”

Pixie let out a sound of sputtering static that could be interpreted as the warforged equivalent of a chuckle. Roachie noticed and bit back, “Okay, I did a lot, but it isn’t my fault people think I’ll kill them just because I’m a drow! I’ll kill them because I want their shinies!”

Dahlia smiled at the thought. “A meaningful distinction indeed,” she replied. 

“Adapting colloquial language model: Shinies are important,” Pixie agreed with the sentiment. “My master requires me to return with only the most powerful shinies. Mark my words, mortals, when I present Captain Viscera’s soul to my master, all the Realms will fear his eternal reign of terror!”

Roachie’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Who’s your master?” he asked, tapping his fingers together in enthusiasm. “Are they scary? Evil? Irredeemably vile?”

“All that and more,” Pixie replied. “A serpentine devil from Avernus. He competes for the title of Archdevil with Zariel. My master’s wickedness cannot be compared to. He invented me - a construct of war - to bring fear to Toril, and seize the finest of magical artifacts! One day, he will slay Archduchess Zariel and take her head as a trophy! He is a true creator of chaos and destruction!” From Pixie’s audio distributor, a recording of maniacal laughter played. 

“Oooh, he’s a bad boy!” Roachie exclaimed.

Dahlia laughed in Pixie’s face. “Ha! Well, if all that’s true, you’d think I’d’ve heard of him!” she mocked, twirling her hair. 

Pixie tried to defend their master’s honor. “He attacked Waterdeep literally last week,” they said, their already robotic voice flat in disbelief. Dahlia simply tilted her head in confusion.

Vaez stopped playing the violin with the bow and instead started to play pizzicato style, a quieter sound. With their left hand, they plucked the strings of the violin, playing a slow melody, calming and warm. “All this talk of masters and servants is a bore,” they said. “Just tell the guy to piss off. Why keep dancing to his tune? Don’t you want freedom? If you can, ditch him and travel at your little mechanical heart’s content. Learn an instrument. Whatevah you want.”

Pixie’s flashlight eye rolled around in its socket. “Ah… Silence, Vaez!” they snapped. “I am a model minion and I won’t question my dark master.”

Husk shook his head in disappointment. “If you can get out of your service to him, you should,” he said with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “If you can’t, then you just gotta make the best out of a shitty situation. I know that better than anyone.” 

As Husk said the words his character would say, he suddenly felt a hand patting him on the head. He looked up, and saw Alastor’s red fingers petting his fur with condescending and smug affection. Husk growled and pushed Alastor’s hand away. Vaggie - ever the hotel’s vigilant sentinel - noticed the tension rising, even if she couldn’t truly place her finger on why, and so she chose to redirect the conversation.

“No one deserves slavery,” Lorae said. “Perhaps it sounds strange to hear such words from a drow, but Lady Eilistraee teaches freedom. That said, if you, PX-1e, are content in serving such a patron, then by all means, do so. Live and let live. But know this, warforged: if your little pilgrimage threatens innocent people…” Her welcoming demeanor suddenly darkened, her red eyes pierced Pixie’s gaze, and her voice took on a hint of a threat, “I won’t hesitate to destroy you. In the meantime, we have a lich to pursue in the morning.” 

Charlie applauded Vaggie’s roleplay of the zealous cleric. “Bravo, bravo, Vaggie!” she said and wrapped her arms around Vaggie’s head. “Lorae is such a bad ass. I swear, she would totally stomp into the scariest place and save everyone!”

Vaggie blushed, honored, but unsure if her short little speech deserved such praise. “So, uh, how about that long rest everyone?” she asked the other players. Nods and small murmurs of agreement passed around the gaming table. 

With an enthusiastic wave of her index finger, Charlie grinned and pointed at Husk, “Husk! You’re a Great Old One warlock. You have some, uh… interesting dreams tonight!”

Husk sighed. “Uh oh, here we go…”

“Ahem,” Charlie cleared her throat, ready to give her pre-written narration. She turned the pages of her notebook and read aloud from her own writing, “Husk, you have a scary dream! Your patron gives you a vision of a carving of a giant skull into the side of a cliff that leads to a dark, dank cave with a bunch of skeletons with pirate hats on their heads. You see a tabaxi village here on the island. Your vision cuts to Captain Viscera at an Umberlee Shine, receiving her wicked blessing and becoming her Chosen! Oh no!” She quickly perked up her head to glance at Husk and observe his reaction. He was leaning his face on his paw as he sipped his drink without a care in the world. Charlie was disappointed, but continued, “Then you see Waterdeep crumbling, flooded by black water and noxious smoke. You wake up in a cold sweat. It’s dawn, and the others are already awake. What do you do? Do you tell them about the vision your patron just gave you? Or something else?”

“I tell my patron to go fuck itself,” Husk replied, averting Charlie’s eyes. A laugh track played from Alastor’s radio in the corner.

Angel crossed all four of his arms and pouted at Husk. “C’mon, Furball,” he pleaded playfully. “Pretty please? For me?” Angel blinked repeatedly, putting on sad puppy eyes. 

Husk gave Angel an emotionless poker face, appearing unpersuaded by Angel’s sly antics. Despite his lack of investment, he gave in anyway. “Ugh fine, sure. I tell you all about it. Happy?”

Niffty clapped. “Thrilled! We have a cave to find! I can’t wait to find the bad boy’s lair. I bet it’s creepy!”

Alastor was staring off into the distance as if his mind was a million miles away, but his ears remained alert, paying attention to what everyone was saying. When he heard what his little friend had just said, his left ear flicked and smile widened, becoming just a bit more sincere. “Be sure to skewer the decaying scoundrel, would you, darling?” Niffty giggled and nodded at him.

After hours of tracking, the adventurers finally found the cave in Husk’s vision. It was just as terrifying in person as it was in his dreams. The mouth of the cave was indeed carved into the shape of a giant skull, leading to a cavern almost entirely devoid of light. An overgrowth of moss covered the skull’s forehead and the eye sockets wept a downpour of seaweed, but the open jaw displayed jagged sharp rocks covered in hardened sand like tartar enveloping rotting teeth. The stench of death oozed from the cave, the foul breath of putrid corpse’s maw.

Pixie tapped their flashlight head, a small flicker to illuminate the path before them. Vaez unsheathed their rapier. “Fiat lux,” they whispered, and their rapier began to glow a bright silver light.

Entering the cave, the party was immediately greeted by a familiar black pirate ship docked in the cavern. Captain Viscera was here. 

Chapter Text

“I cast Turn Undead,” Vaggie declared. 

The six adventurers battled undead pirates on board the top deck of Captain Viscera’s ship, a mix of shambling zombies and skeletal crew members. Lorae raised her sword up high, brandished her holy pendant, and called upon the divine power of her goddess. “Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance!” Lorae chanted.

A flash of silver light swept across the cave. For a moment, the foul miasma of undeath vanished from the air, replaced with the warm glow of Eilistaee’s compassion. The undead foes dropped their cutlasses and dived overboard, skittering and screaming in fear. 

“Finish them all so they can’t report to the Captain!” Pixie boomed as they chased down one of the skeletons and slashed its skull clean off. The party slew some of the fleeing undead while others managed to escape the battlefield, retreating further down the winding cave and into the darkness beneath. Pixie set the butt of their halberd on the wooden floor. “Engage looting sequence: scour the ship, soldiers! Let us gather the fruits of our labor,” ordered Pixie.

Charlie gave her players a round of applause, eyes closed and clapping hands above her head. “Congratulations, heroes! You just emptied Captain Viscera’s ship of baddies, for now at least,” she said as she stood and bowed before her victorious players. 

Niffty giggled wickedly and tapped her fingers on the periwinkle tablecloth. “Let’s loot the place!” she exclaimed. 

“So, Charlie,” Angel started, “what did we win?” He rested one of his elbows on the table and leaned in, giving Charlie a hopeful stare and eagerly awaiting his prize.

The victors looted the spoils of war, but there was still no sign of Captain Viscera himself. When they finally left the ship, Roachie had an infernal idea. “Burn the ship!” he yelled out. “That stupid lich won’t be able to pillage The Sword Coast again if he doesn’t have a ship!”

Vaez shrugged, but soon nodded in agreement. “Could be worth it. We’d still have to kill him if we wanna go back to Waterdeep, but at least he couldn’t sail away on it.”

Husk buried his paw into his hands. Lorae simply shook her head and said, “I disagree. Acting so rashly could ha--” She was suddenly interrupted when the sorcerer-rogue shot a firebolt out of his fingertips. The flame struck the ship, but it dimed down to tiny sparks upon contact. Roachie casted firebolt again and again, bombarding the ship repeatedly with rays of fire, first at the bow, then at the stern, at the tattered sails, the windows, the cannons. The fire simply couldn’t maintain a blaze. Soft, rotten wood and moldy sails were too damp to get caught in a sustainable fire.

“Niffty, darling, may I make a suggestion?” Alastor asked, leaning forward and holding a finger up. Niffty silently nodded in response and paid close attention. Alastor continued, “The proper way to commit arson is to douse a flammable substance over your target first.”

Niffty puffed her chest and let out her best evil laugh she could muster. “Mwahahaha! I know, Alastor! Dahlia and Roachie should cast Grease all over it!”

“Greassse?” Pentious repeated, confused.

Niffty nodded. “Grease!” She snatched her character sheet off the table and pointed at the description of her spell, and read it aloud with frantic enthusiasm tinged in her voice. “Ahem! ‘Slick grease covers the ground in a 10-foot square centered on a point within range and turns it into difficult terrain for the duration. When the grease appears, each creature standing in its area must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone. A creature that enters the area or ends its turn there must also succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or fall prone.’ Hehe! Gross, but it’s flammable, too!” She tugged on Alastor’s sleeve. “C’mon, Al, Dahlia should help Roachie Grease up the ship and blow it to smithereens!”

Husk took one final swig of his drink. “That’s dumb,” he said flatly. “10-foot square? The ship is huge. That’s gonna eat up your spell slots.”

Despite the disagreements of the rest of the party, Dahlia extended her wings and flew into the air, taking her time flying around the ship and finding the perfect spots to cast her greasy spell. Roachie, however, was less meticulous. He pranced around the top deck, running around in circles and screaming the incantation to cast the spell all around him. 

“This is a really bad idea!” Lorae tried to warn Roachie and Dahlia against their antics. “We should be looking for the lich, not wasting our time on this nonsense!”

“The ship should be MINE! Stop this instant!” Pixie pleaded.

The sorcerer-rogue and the wizardess blissfully ignored the protesters and continued covering the ship and magical grease. Roachie heard Dahlia swoop down and land back down on the cave floor, and he followed suit by jumping off the side of the ship and leaping overboard, landing on his feet like a nimble cat onto the stone. 

“Let’s light ‘er up, Dally!” Roachie exclaimed. 

Dahlia put her hand on her hip and shook her finger back and forth coyly. “Now, now, little drow, that is surely no way to make a request,” she replied in a soft, playful tone. “Perhaps a certain someone could benefit from learning just a smidge of decorum and etiquette. Let’s try again, shall we?”

Roachie laughed and played along. He bowed before the fair tiefling lady before him. “Of course, Miss Dahlia. May I humbly request your sizzling, fire-blasting fingertips to come to my aid?”

Dahlia’s pearly white smile lit up in approval. “Ah, excellent form! You are a quick learner, young gentleman.”

Vaez laughed. “Hell, I’d light it up, too, if I had the same magic know-how as you folks!”

And Angel continued out-of-character. “Shame bards don’t get that cantrip,” he whispered with a sigh.

“You guys are idiots,” Vaggie commented.

A raging inferno quickly engulfed Captain Viscera’s ship at the very second Roachie and Dahlia cast their fiery cantrips. The booming sound of outbursts of fire echoed throughout the cave. The sound was near deafening. The humanoids of the party covered their ears, while the warforged simply honked in angry disapproval, lamenting at the loss of a potential addition to their master’s navy of doom. Roachie cackled delightedly while Dahlia admired her handiwork in action. Vaez stood behind the pair, simply watching the chaos unfolding before their eyes. Husk and Lorae seethed in frustration. 

The destruction attracted unwanted attention. From behind the party, steel footsteps tapped the stone floor. A high-pitched scratchy voice echoed across the cavern, “Who dares t’ vandalize me ship?!” A newcomer stood above the adventurers on a ledge behind them. 

Charlie coughed and pounded her chest after giving her idea of the Captain’s voice another shot. The high-pitched scratch she tried to perform left a sensation of a vacuum in her throat. Vaggie pat Charlie on the shoulder and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher. Niffty watched the exchange and steepled her fingers together. “Hehehehe,” she giggled, “the bad boy is here!”

“Brilliant fuckin’ plan, people!” Husk roared. “You burned your spell slots and pissed off the lich!”

Pentious hissed his tongue in anger. “The ship should have been MINE to possssess!”

Charlie gulped down the water and sighed. “I am officially giving Captain Viscera a new voice. Please bear with me. Erm, ahem:”

The barnacled undead captain glared at the intrepid arsonists with glowing blue eyes steaming with hatred. He growled, a low and menacing sound full of hatred. His grey lips peeled a layer of dry skin as he sneered with fury, barring the few brown teeth he had left in his rotting mouth. His voice boomed a deep sound, “Ye reckon yer wee fire can stop me?” Captain Viscera waved his hand, a sharp motion cutting the air in front of him.

“The Captain casts Gust of Wind,” Charlie announced. “It puts out the fire, and I’ll need everyone to roll a strength save if you don't want to get pushed over.” 

The sound of rolling plastic danced across the tablecloth. All but Pixie failed. Pentious couldn’t help but crack a smile to see that he was finally having the first bit of luck in a while for him, even at the expense of the other players. Charlie frowned along with Niffty and Angel upon seeing their results, though Vaggie, Husk, and Alastor remained unbothered by their low rolls. “Oh, no!” Charlie cried out. “Pixie remains standing tall, but the rest of you are knocked to the ground.” Charlie moved their respective character tokens a few spaces back and sighed in disappointment as she noted Husk and Vaez got knocked into the water. 

“I cast Turn Undead,” Vaggie declared once again.

“Uh… say what, now?” Charlie looked at her girlfriend, confused.

Vaggie’s expression remained neutral and calm. “You heard me,” she insisted. “I get back up, and use my last Channel Divinity charge to make that bastard run away.”

“Eh, babe, let me see the spell real quick…” Charlie took Vaggie’s sheet and read aloud the spell’s text: “Hmm… ‘As an action, you present your holy symbol and speak a prayer censuring the undead. Each undead that can see or hear you within 30 feet of you must make a Wisdom saving throw. If the creature fails its saving throw, it is turned for 1 minute or until it takes any damage. A turned creature must spend its turns trying to move as far away from you as it can, and it can't willingly move to a space within 30 feet of you. It also can't take reactions. For its action, it can use only the Dash action or try to escape from an effect that prevents it from moving. If there's nowhere to move, the creature can use the Dodge action.’” Charlie scratched her scalp and cursed under her breath. She picked up a d20 die and gave it a spin, then sighed when she saw the results. “I… see… Huh. Congratulations, hon, you just sent a big scary lich running for the hills, but, uh, we’ll have to talk about game balance later, ‘kay? Ahem…”

The silver glow of Eilistraee’s glory shone a blinding light in Captain Viscera’s eyes. The lich recoiled at the holy conviction of the drow woman before him. “It burns!” he shrieked. “Ye pitiful scallywags reckon ye can hinder me? Yer soft Eilistraee has nah power in me domain! I go t’ me Mistress Umberlee. The unholy waves o’ the Bitch Queen be swallowin’ ye whole soon enough! First ye, then all o’ Toril! I be returnin', ye cretins. Oh aye, I be returnin'!” Captain Viscera pulled his moldy cloak over his face as he casted Plane Shift, and in an instant, he was gone, spirited away to another realm. His wicked laughter was the last thing the adventurers heard before any trace of the Captain was left.

Charlie stood, curled her elbows, and wiggled her fingers. “HAHAHAHA!” she cackled as hard as she could, doing her best to sound as terrifying as she envisioned her villain to be. 

Alastor stared at her, unimpressed. “Charlie, my dear, your evil laugh could use some practice.”

Chapter Text

Niffty sat behind the coffee table in the hotel living room, ready to put on a show! Charlie’s pizza party was over, and Niffty knew just how to put the empty pizza boxes to use. One of the boxes was propped up, serving as her makeshift stage. Her puppets consisted of dead cockroaches, ones she exterminated en masse from the hotel the previous night, simply sparkling in disinfectant, stitched to yarn and tied to knitting needles. 

The hotel residents sat on the couch, gathered to what Niffty told them was going to be her finest performance yet. Such a statement clearly didn’t make much of an impression on the audience aside from Alastor, who was sitting up straight in a leather recliner and eagerly awaiting the show. He quietly sipped coffee from his “Oh Deer!” mug. 

Charlie sat with an awkward posture, her shoulders hunched and hands fidgeting with the fabric of her pant pockets. Vaggie was sitting next to Charlie with her elbow propped up on the armrest as she leaned her head into her left palm, and her right hand gently rubbing Charlie’s knee. Charlie whispered in Vaggie’s ear, “Give Niffty a chance, babe. You never know!” Vaggie rolled her eye with a dismissive smile and gave Charlie’s knee an affectionate squeeze.

Pentious was laying down on the floor, clutching his egg bois like a security blanket; he would never admit it, but he found Niffty’s puppet shows to be scarier than any horror movie put to film. The egg bois shivered in fear, their shells tapping together loudly, but they knew their mission was to serve as emotional support to their temperamental master, so they stayed silent and kept their own anxiety unspoken.

Angel Dust and Husk weren’t even watching. Husk stared past the coffee table and into the fireplace as he sipped his beer, his mind a million worlds away. Angel had Vaez’s character sheet on a clipboard in one hand, the Player’s Handbook in another, and a pen in a third hand diligently leveling up his character. He used Niffty’s show as background noise to help him focus.

Niffty jumped up from behind the pizza box and faced her audience. She picked up a pizza cutter and used it as though it were a microphone. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of the Hazbin Hotel, to the greatest puppet show in all of Hell! Tonight, you shall witness death and debauchery, courtesy of my latest VICTIMS!” She took a bow and took a few steps to the side, displaying her taxidermied cockroaches ready for a performance. 

Pentious’ crest puffed out at the sight, a rattling sound followed by a hiss of terror at the sight of the dead bugs. He held on tighter to one of the egg bois. The egg creature patted its hand on Pentious’ shoulder to soothe his fear. Niffty noticed, and she grinned wickedly at Pentious, seeming to enjoy his revulsion. She leaped back behind the pizza box stage, ready to put on a show.

The knitting needles served as crutches that held up the strings of the marionettes. Niffty’s little fingers manipulated the needles quite smoothly. From behind the pizza box, she narrated the story. “It was a pretty day in Bugtown, when Professor Roachbuse and her apprentice Bugbutt talked about the finer points of philosophy during a picnic. Heavy topics such as bug’s cruelty to his fellow bug, are we living in a simulation, and, of course, life after death!”

With the deepest voice she could muster, Niffty play-acted the roach, “Professor Roachbuse, where do bugs go when they die?” She started shaking around the puppet on the left, a roach with tiny glasses stuck on its carapace with bubblegum.

Niffty shook around the stick of the other puppet. This roach had a wig made of yarn stuck to its dead face, and the voice Niffty gave it was her attempt at an impersonation of an old lady’s nasally speech. “Well, I dunno, Bugbutt. Let’s find out!” Niffty sliced and diced the roach puppet with the pizza cutter. She screamed and wailed, imitating the sounds of a tortured victim, but the sparkle in her eye and upturned lips betrayed her sadistic glee. 

One of Pentious’ eggs leaped out of the pile and started to run away in terror. “No, minion! Come back! Come back!” Pentious yelled and started to chase the egg down the hallway.

Alastor spat out his coffee and nearly fell off the side of his seat from his roaring laughter. He slapped his knee and stood with a loud clap of his hands. “Bravo!” A soundtrack of a round of applause and cheering echoed from his radio. “My dear Niffty, that was simply a phenomenal show! Well done, as always.”

Charlie darted her eyes back and forth nervously. She didn’t want to discourage Niffty from her creative sparks or hurt her feelings, so she clapped her hands in feigned congratulations. The cringe on her lips didn’t seem to bother Niffty; the cyclops bowed.

“Thank you, thank you!” Niffty said and imagined a starstruck audience showering her stage with freshly-picked roses and glitter.

Vaggie peered her head at Husk and asked, “Is this the kind of shit Niffty did before coming to the hotel?”

Husk waved his hand and set down his glass of beer. “Pfft. This is tame in comparison,” he replied. “At least this ain’t a ‘dust bunny burlesque show’.”

“Excellent showmanship, Niffty. Your enthusiasm for a macabre spectacle is absolutely infectious. I must say, you’re a much better performer than… whatever THAT is!” Alastor tapped the end of his cane on Angel Dust’s character sheet. 

Angel glanced up at Alastor with a raised eyebrow, looking more confused than offended by the remark. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“That was uncalled for!” Vaggie snapped at Alastor. 

“Alastor, please be nice to Angel. We’ll all be happier if we just get along!” Charlie added with a disappointed frown.

Alastor waved his hand at the couple’s direction as if shooing away their concerns and gently poked Angel on the top of his head with his cane. “I don’t mean this effeminate fellow!” He then prodded his cane at Angel’s clipboard. “I mean THIS. They who substitute the dramatic flair of a proper bard with cheap parlor tricks and sex appeal. It’s unbecoming. Such a shame, but the audience grows bored of repetition. This one-trick pony of a harlot bard could learn a thing or two from a showwoman as talented as Niffty the puppeteer.”

Angel laughed in Alastor’s face as he straightened his posture and leaned back on the couch. “Ha! Ya say that like it’s a bad thing. Vaez found their niche and wears the ‘harlot bard’ title like a badge of fuckin’ honor. Clutch your pearls all ya want, Mister Speakeasy Jazz Man, the rest of us ain’t so prissy.”

Charlie watched the exchange with a face creased with concern and confliction. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the forehead of a little fluffy friend. KeeKee pawed at Charlie to get her attention, then presented Charlie with a trophy; a freshly killed corpse of a giant cockroach. Charlie quivered at the sight, her hair frizzing out as a shiver ran down her spine. Niffty noticed and applauded KeeKee.

“Omigosh, KeeKee is the best roach huntress ever,” Niffty exclaimed and clapped her hands frantically. “This big bug will make for a great puppet! Time to get my SPECIAL taxidermy needles. I’ll call this one… Roachzilla!”

Chapter Text

Niffty was the last person to arrive at the gaming table that night for Charlie’s D&D session. She brought a plate carrying a pile of freshly baked cookies and set it in the middle of the table. “I made snickerdoodles for everyone!” she announced with a wide, yellow smile sparkling with pride. “Dig in, but save one for Alastor when he comes back!”

Charlie snatched a cookie from the pile and took a large bite from it. “Thanks, Niffty!”

“An’ where is Freaky Face, by the by?” Angel asked as he helped himself to a cookie. 

Husk poured himself another drink. “He said he had to go to an overlord meeting,” he replied as he made his way back to his chair and got comfortable.

Charlie nodded in response. With a mouth full of a delicious cookie, she continued, “Yep, we talked it over, and Alastor said that Dahlia will go back to The Cherry and make sure her undead sirens are doing their repairs.”

Pentious didn’t eat a cookie; the idea of eating anything made with eggs disturbed him. Instead, he thought about his character’s ship. “Can PX-1e go with her?” he asked, then shook his head no at his own question and mumbled, “Hmm, no, I don’t want to missss out on the adventure…”

With Alastor gone, his radio, usually playing smooth jazz in the corner of the room, was silent. Angel decided to remedy that. He stood from his chair and hooked up his phone to play his own choice of music: “Vacay to Bonetown” by Hell’s beloved pop star Verosika Mayday, along with other songs from his personal playlist. 

Once Angel returned to the table, Charlie started the session. “Ahem, welcome back, adventurers, to another session of The Ghost of Captain Viscera!” she began. “The Captain himself is at large after Vaggie- erm, I mean Lorae made him run away to another plane of existence. Dahlia flies back to The Cherry to oversee repairs, but the cave remains unexplored aside from this cavern where the ship you tried to burn was docked.”

“Tried and failed,” Husk remarked with a roll of his eyes.

Niffty was entirely unbothered by Husk’s comment, or at the very least chose to ignore it. “Time to explore the scary cave. My knives are ready!”

The caves under the cliffside beach wound down into a spiraling tunnel. Vaez’s rapier, illuminated by a Light spell, lit the way as the adventurers made their way down the cave. The halls of rock were damp with muddy water and the stench of undeath. Spiders and bats scurried away from the light of Vaez’s blade. 

“Can I roll for stealth?” Niffty asked Charlie.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, thinking such a roll was unnecessary, but she handed Niffty a d20 die anyway. “Sure thing, Niff!” 

Niffty threw the die on the table as hard as she could. The bit of plastic bounced across the table and slammed into Charlie’s DM screen, almost knocking it over. Vaggie was about to ask Niffty to calm down, but realized such a request would go unheard when everyone saw the dreadful 1 displayed on the die. “Aw, shucks! Uh… Tides of Chaos!” Niffty called out as she tossed the die again.

Husk tilted his head at Niffty and asked, “Tides of what now?”

“It’s a feature of the wild magic subclass for sorcerers,” Charlie answered. “You may have noticed Niffty rolling a d20 every time Roachie casts a spell. If she rolls a 1, a wild magic surge happens. She can gain advantage on most rolls if she uses the Tides of Chaos feature, but it will increase the chance of a wild magic surge to 50% instead of 5% next time she casts a spell.”

Niffty clapped and cheered at her much more favorable result of her roll: a 16. She elaborated on Charlie for Husk, “I haven’t had a single wild magic thingy this whole campaign, but I’d better finally get one today!”

Angel noticed Husk was still looking confused and chimed in, “Look, Pussycat, alls ya need to know is you should stand the fuck back next time the murder hobo casts a spell or you might, I dunno, turn blue for a week, or your clothes will get teleported to space, or somethin’ just as whacky.”

“And now I’m silent as the grave!” Niffty yelled proudly.

The party’s footsteps echoed with every tap of their boots. All except Roachie, the stealthy sorcerer-rogue knowing how to move unheard with the assistance of just a bit of wild magic.

This place seemed to have served as a base of operations for Captain Viscera’s pirate crew once upon a time. The adventurer’s passed by portions of the cave that housed what used to be an armory, one that failed the test of time. Decay got the better of the armaments displayed within; cutlasses chipped, chainmail links rusted together, and unloaded blunderbusses housed next to barrels of expired gunpowder. Other corners of the cave had hints of the stronghold this place must have been before Captain Viscera was imprisoned in the Waterdeep mansion. 

Angel let out a disappointed sigh. “Is there seriously no good loot here?” he asked, dramatically shrugging his upper shoulders with palms facing up and lower arms pointed at the map on the table. “It’s a lich’s stronghold, and all he has to show for it is a buncha broken crap?”

Charlie frowned. She hated to see her players disappointed, but Vaggie chimed in to defend her lover’s honor. “Be patient, Angel. We haven’t explored the whole place yet,” Vaggie said flatly.

After a while, Pixie was the one to find something noteworthy. A large, circular stone gate stood before him, carved into the wall of the cave. Around the rim of the door were letters of an unfamiliar language etched into the stone. “Typography: unrecognizable. Sequence to request assistance initiating: Team!” the warforced called, “I found something!” 

The other adventurers gathered at Pixie to see what they found. They proceeded to investigate and discuss the strange door.

Charlie pointed her finger up when she said, “Okay, there are lots of rolls you can make to figure this thing out. I say play to your strengths! Pick one of your skills and see what you can find! Let’s all roll at once, and I can get to everyone after I see those numbers.” She turned her gaze to Angel Dust and told him a rehearsed line, “No, Angel, you can’t seduce the door. You’ll have to pick something else.”

“I’m rolling perception on that thing,” Angel declared, impatient as ever, and rolled a d20 before Charlie could acknowledge his actions. The die displayed an 11 when it stopped. 

“May I roll invesssstigation, princesssss?” Pentious asked with a long shake of his forked tongue. Charlie nodded at him with a hopeful grin and handed him a d20 die. Pentious shook with joy and squeaked lightly when he saw the number 20 facing upward.

“I’m a cleric,” Vaggie stated, “so I’ll roll religion.” She spun the die and smiled at the result. “16! With a plus 5 modifier, that’s a 21,” she followed up with a tone of pride in her voice.

Husk picked up his d20 die and said a single, simple word to announce his roll. “Arcana,” he spoke bluntly and rolled his die. He grunted softly at the measly 4 displayed when the die stopped rolling.

Charlie handed Niffty a d20 die, but before she could even ask what Niffty would roll for, Niffty gently pushed her hand away. “I cast Detect Magic!” Niffty hollered. 

“Aw, crap,” Angel muttered, snapping his fingers under his chin. He just knew Niffty’s decision to cast a spell instead of rolling a skill check was simply because she wanted her wild magic surge.

Niffty took out a cobalt coin from her pocket, the currency of Hell. “Heads, and there’s no wild magic. Tails, and something crazy happens!” With a dramatic flick of her wrist, Niffty flipped the coin. Upon the tablecloth, the coin landed, and the tail of a majestic duck etched on the metal faced the ceiling. Upon seeing the duck’s tail, Niffty started bouncing in her chair and stared at Charlie in vibrating anticipation. “WILD MAGIC SURGE!” she yelled. Charlie then picked up her 100 sided die and gave it a spin.

The untamed magic around Roachie’s palms exploded into a blaze of chaotic energy. A cloud of pink smoke enveloped him. The smoke coalesced into pastel dust and settled on the ground, revealing the fate of the intrepid sorcerer-rogue. 

A potted plant.

“So how long is my bad boy stuck as a potted plant?” Niffty asked with a giggle.

“One minute,” Charlie answered, and her expression turned regretful, her lips pouting and eyebrows crossing upward. “I’m soooooo sorry, Niffty, I really wish it was the one where you got all your sorcery points back!”

Husk responded to Roachie’s fate with a shrug. “Ah, that ain’t so bad,” he said. 

Niffty didn’t look bummed out by her character’s fate in the slightest. In fact, she was quite entertained by the idea. She twirled her hair and chuckled again. “Hehe, so what magic does Roachie the potted plant detect?” 

Charlie relaxed and leaned back into her chair, relieved at Niffty’s amusement. “Okay!” she mumbled with a sigh. “Uh, Roachie detects that the door is locked by magic, not by a mechanical lock. But~, you’re still a plant, so you can’t relay that info yet. Sorry!”

“But what about the resssst of ussss?” Pentious hissed, growing impatient. 

“Right, right, right. I’ll go from lowest to highest,” Charlie said and stood from her chair again to review everyone’s rolls. “Husk, with a 4 in your arcana roll, you don’t find anything noteworthy. B-but if you want, I could--”

Husk shook his paw in the air, dismissing Charlie’s guilt. “Nah, it’s fine. A 4 is a 4,” he said reassuringly.

“Angel,” Charlie started, bowing her head slightly at Angel, “with an 11 plus 2 modifier, your 13 result in perception means that you PERCEIVE that there actually isn’t any lock to pick. There must be another way to open it, but you don’t actually know what that could be.”

Angel shrugged and leaned backwards into his seat, cupping his upper hands together behind his neck and resting his head into them. “Whatevah, saves Roachie the trouble of trying to pick something that ain’t there when he stops bein’ a plant.”

Charlie sat back down next to Vaggie and wrapped her arm around her lover’s back, gripping Vaggie’s shoulder gently as she spoke, “Vaggie, with your 21 religion roll, you notice symbols of Umberlee. No surprise there, but these symbols are ones inscribed on the sites of sacrificial altars. Yikes!”

Vaggie nodded and replied, “So there’s probably a sacrifice room on the other side. Maybe it’ll be the Umberlee shrine in Husk’s vision?” She tapped her chin, thinking. “A religious pirate. Odd to think about.”

Charlie clasped her hands together and pointed both fingers at Pentious, who was eagerly awaiting the result of his natural 20. Pentious stared at Charlie with an enthusiastic smile drawn on his face from end-to-end. He stayed silent, simply blinking and smiling. “Sir Pentious! You got a critical success! Like Vaez, PX-1e sees that there isn’t a lock, but you also notice a stone sink of some kind carved into the floor just beneath the door, and you can tell that it’s activated by… blood. Oooooh, gross!” 

Pixie kneeled down, their flashlight head dilating as they scanned the bowl dug into the rocky floor of the cave. “Dried humanoid fluids detected, blood required. Error: this unit does not contain blood,” Pixie stated. They stood back on their feet and faced their more fleshy teammates, including the plant quivering with roaches within the leaves in its ceramic pot. 

The music playing from the stereo in the corner sang an especially explicit line. Charlie cringed at the lyrics and blushed, feeling flustered and awkward. She glanced over at Angel and requested, “Angel, maybe you could put on something different? I don’t think songs with lyrics like ‘Fuck me in the ass ‘cause I love Jesus’ is… appropriate for the atmosphere.” 

Husk nodded in agreement, but kept his expression flat as he mumbled, “Never thought I’d miss Al’s tacky jazz.”

Without a word, Niffty leapt from her seat and scuttled to the stereo to put on her own playlist. Heavy beats and a high screech screaming of rotting souls in the underworld. It seemed Niffty was in the mood for death metal. 

Charlie opened her mouth to object to the new music, but Vaggie placed her hand on Charlie’s shoulder, catching her attention with a reassuring touch. “I’ve got this, babe,” Vaggie said. She stood and plugged her phone into the stereo, playing some calming salsa tunes. Everyone but Angel and Niffty gave their thanks. Charlie pecked her girlfriend on the cheek as she sat back down. Vaggie took the opportunity to take action in the game.

Lorae approached the sink and gazed into the basin. “Blood? I volunteer to spill a bit of mine,” she said as she drew her sword and removed her left gauntlet. With a small prick of her thumb, she held her hand above the basin and squeezed a few drops, letting her blood spill into the bowl. Just a few moments after, Lorae dropped her sword and covered her pointed ears, falling backwards onto her behind and smearing a bit of the blood on her finger onto her cheeks. A maddening whisper echoed in the back of her skull.

Charlie twisted her fingers together in apprehension of her own story. “So, Vaggie, you hear a voice whispering in your head, but no one else hears anything. The voice says that only the blood of a dying sacrifice will open the door.” 

Angel tilted his head looking surprised at the revelation. “Shit, Cap V kills someone every time he opens this door? Charlie, I had no idea you could think up somethin’ that dark. I bet Smiles would be proud of ya!” Husk grumbled at Angel’s comment, but didn’t say anything. 

“Oh!” Charlie sputtered. “And Roachie’s wild magic just wore off. He’s back to being a drow.”

Ceramic shattered as the roots of the plant burst from the dirt keeping it in place. The roots and stem grew out rapidly with snaps and cracks, bark and sap and leaves turning back into skin and blood and white hair. Roachie was himself once again, and wasted no time in contributing. “It’s a magical lock, and it needs blood and death!” Roachie yelled as he spat out dirt from his mouth. He seemed unfazed by the spontaneous curse thrust upon him, as if such chaos was a regular occurrence in his troubled life. He took out a squirming cockroach from his pocket and held it still just above the bowl. His dagger squashed the writhing sacrifice. The poor insect splattered its inner fluids all over the sink basin. Roachie’s eyes lit up with wicked mirth. He flipped his dagger upside down and squashed what remained of the cockroach with the butt of the hilt. Such efforts, however enthused, were just as futile as Lorae’s. Roachie, too, heard a maddening whisper creep up from his spine and into the back of his shattered mind. “Your offering is insulting! Umberlee demands the sacrifice of an innocent humanoid!” the whisper chastised. 

Click, snap, cruch. Within a blink of an eye, Roachie suddenly felt a sharp pain in his gut. He looked down and saw a crossbow bolt lodged into his flesh just under his ribcage, the iron tip rusted by the passage of time making the poor drow all the more fearful of his attacker.

“Goshdarnit!” Niffty lamented. “Am I gonna get tetanus?!”

Charlie responded with two simple words, “Constitution save.” When she heard Niffty’s dice roll and stop, she checked over the result and announced Roachie’s fate. “14? You don’t get sick or poisoned from anything, but you still take 5 damage from being shot.” 

Niffty pulled at her hair, grimacing at her knowledge and mumbling anxiously, “Roachie says ‘ouchie!’”

“Cure Wounds, coming right up, Niffty,” Vaggie reassured. Niffty thanked her and sighed with relief.

Angel glanced over at Alastor’s empty chair. With a knowing smirk at Husk, he suggested sarcastically, “Heh. Too bad Dally ain’t here. We’d get rid o’ the door and that cold bitch in one swoop. Killin’ two birds with one stone!”

Husk and Pentious laughed, but Charlie and Niffty clearly didn’t find it funny - Charlie frowned with disappointment while Niffty looked suddenly angry. Even Vaggie, with her low opinion of Alastor, scoffed at such divisive thinking. Charlie cleared her throat. Niffty’s usual cute and manic demeanor turned icy. She narrowed her single eye at Angel and snapped, “Hey! You shouldn’t talk about Miss Dahlia like that, asshole! She’s a great wizard, and Roachie’s new best friend!”

Angel flew all four hands in the air defensively as he straightened his spine and leaned back in his chair. “Whoa, simmer down, toots! I’m fuckin’ with ya.” He plopped his upper elbows on the table and pressed his cheeks into his palms with a disgruntled pout. “So this is a dead end, ain’t it?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“It would sssseem sssso,” Pentious agreed.

Husk’s eyes darted to the side. “Hmm, not exactly,” he said. “Remember my character’s vision? There’s a village on the island we could go to. Could be more info there. Maybe one of the locals knows their shit.”

Niffty’s cold anger warmed into an enthused grin. “Oh yes! We can just kidnap one of them and slice them into ribbons here!” she exclaimed with a playful shake of her arms.

“No!” Vaggie snapped back. “Absolutely not. No innocent sacrifice. We’ll find out more information at the village, but Lorae isn’t going to tolerate killing an innocent person!” 

Charlie nodded along as she listened to Vaggie’s stalwart morality in action. “That’s the spirit, hon! Aaaanyway,” she turned her attention to the group at large, “I think that’s a pretty natural stopping point for tonight, yes?” 

While sounds of agreement echoed across the gaming table, it was sounds of screams that echoed across the clocktower park in the Pentagram’s downtown. Two glasses of bloodwine clinked against each other, followed by the delighted chuckles of a pair of demon overlords. Alastor told a half-truth; there was no meeting of overlords taking place that night, but he was meeting one overlord. The crowd in the park cleared out at the sight of the Radio Demon and Auntie Rosie making their entrance, the citizens of Hell running away in fear. The two overlords sat on a picnic blanket, enjoying having the park all to themselves.

Alastor closed his eyes and sipped his wine. “Ah~,” he sighed in bliss, then looked into Rosie’s pitch dark eyes. “I do so love the peace and quiet of this beautiful park after our very presence sends the rabble fleeing in such delicious terror. Don’t you, my dear?”

“Of course, sugar!” Rosie replied with a wink. “But let’s be honest, darlin’, they’re just overwhelmed by our impeccable style and class.”

Rosie and Alastor laughed. They poured another round of bloodwine and marveled at Hell’s red night sky, the atmosphere resonating with gunshots and cries in the distance.

Chapter Text

Charlie and Vaggie sat close to each other at the gaming table. They met up before the session was scheduled to start to discuss rebalancing the spell Turn Undead. The lighting was dim for now, the chandelier flickering lightly; Vaggie often found it easier to focus in softer lights. Charlie had the fifth edition of Monster Manual in front of her. The princess stuck her tongue out and clicked her pen as she considered how to give a fair nerf to Vaggie’s overpowered spell.

“Look, babe,” Vaggie said, putting her hand on Charlie’s arm. “I can just promise to not use the spell when we fight the lich at the end of the campaign.”

Charlie shook her head, her eyes still glued to the Monster Manual as she reread the entry on liches. “Noooooo, hon, I want you to be fully into your character when the time comes. Hmm…” She stopped twirling her pen when an idea came to mind. With a gasp, she started writing in her dungeon master notes. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh! I know! Instead of making the lich run away from the fight, the spell will just give him the ‘frightened’ condition.” Charlie tossed Monster Manual aside and opened up another rule book. After flipping through the index, she read aloud the mechanics of frightened creatures. “Right here, ‘A frightened creature has disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls while the source of its fear is within line of sight. The creature can’t willingly move closer to the source of its fear.’ You’ll still scare him, but he won’t run away from the battlefield. How’s that sound?”

Vaggie nodded. In truth, she found the nerf to be unnecessary, but she let Charlie fuss over fairness anyway. “That sounds good enough to me, sweetie.”

The dining room door burst open. Angel and Pentious walked in and took their respective seats. Angel’s eyes sagged with grey bags. He rubbed his temples and planted his face on the purple tablecloth with a loud thud. “Ugh, fuckin’ hangovers!” he groaned.

Husk followed Angel behind him with several bottles of Demonade - Hell’s most popular brand of thirst quenchers for athletes and murderers. Husk set the bottles next to Angel’s head on the table. “Stay hydrated, buddy,” he said as he sat down and rubbed Angel’s back softly. 

Charlie frowned with concern at Angel, watching him chug his drink and sigh in misery. She clenched her fist and pressed her fingers into her chest. Her brow wrinkled with worry. “Oh no, Angel, you don’t have to play tonight. Your health is always more important!” She leaned in as she awaited his response. 

“Nah, toots, I’ve had worse hangovers before. ‘Sides, I could use the… escapism,” Angel looked at Husk and started to smile, even just a little. “Really, don’t ya fret about my fuzzy ass, Charlie. I got this.”

Charlie’s face didn’t relax at such reassurances. She still looked worried about him, but nodded in defeat. “Well, if you’re sure, but if you change your mind, I think we’ll all understand,” she replied.

Alastor finally showed up with Niffty on his head. He paused and snapped his fingers, starting the radio in the corner to play his usual line of music. Niffty slid off his head, crawled into her seat, and tapped her sharp little nails on the tablecloth. Alastor sat beside her, as always, still apathetic about the game. His smile became a bit more genuine upon seeing Niffty’s enthusiasm.

Upon seeing Angel’s collection of Demonade flavors on the table, Alastor chuckled and snapped his fingers again. The music stopped, and Alastor’s voice on the radio played a pre-recorded old-timey ad, complete with whimsical sound effects and drum rolls, “When life gives you demons, make DEMONADE! Try our new DEMONADE now 100% free of angel blood! We’ve replaced it with ANGEL DUST!! Get your high and say goodbye to the grogginess! DEMONADE, get your kicks at 666!!!”

Angel pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “I’m partnered with Demonade now? Shit, do I hafta yell at my agent after the game?” he asked as he looked down at the fine print of the bottle in his hand. Nowhere did he see anything mentioning his brand.

Husk stared at Alastor unamused. “No,” he replied to Angel, not meeting his eyes. “Al’s fucking with you.”

Pentious ignored the exchange and focused on Charlie. He was eager as always to start. “Ssso, Charlie, is my gloriousss ship repaired and ready to meet the open sssea once again?” his voice was mixed with a dash of curiosity and a sprinkle of impatience when he asked.

“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed. She jumped out of her seat to grab everyone’s attention and cleared her throat.

Lorae, Vaez, Pixie, Roachie, and Husk left the cavern. They were happy to breathe the scent of fresh air instead of the stench of death within the cave. It was the middle of the afternoon. The two drow shielded their eyes from the blinding sun. “Straj ssussun,” Lorae cursed under her breath. She knew welcoming the surface radiance should be a blessing, but her eyes never fully adjusted to the brightness of the surface world quite yet. Roachie seemed to be faring better, but even he squinted his eyes when facing away from the sun. Vaez and Husk, however, sighed in relief at the sight of the warm blue sky once again.

The five of them made their way along the beach back to the crash site of The Cherry. Warm sand under their feet, occasionally cooled by the ebb and flow of the ocean waves dancing on the shore. Dahlia was lying down on the beach in her undergarments, sunbathing. Her purple skin already looked a few tones darker. She had cucumber slices resting on her eyelids as she sipped coconut milk from a cracked-open coconut shell. 

Meanwhile, the skeletal sirens hammered and fastened planks of wood onto The Cherry. Clearly they did most of the work as their necromancer lazed about on the beach. The gaping hole in the hull was finally patched up. The replacing wood lacked the red paint that decorated the rest of the boat. It looked like a functional - if unattractive - scab over an open wound. Remarkably, The Cherry looked passably seaworthy once again. Pixie’s flashlight head flickered a warm yellow light, a sign of approval from the otherwise discouraged warforged. Soft beeps rang from Pixie’s speakers, like a squeal of excitement. They jumped up and down and sprinted towards the undead sirens, kicking up a trail of sand behind their heavy feet. Pixie pulled the skeletons into a suffocating embrace with a loud line of morse code beeping from their head. “-  ....  .-  -.  -.-  /  -.--  ---  ..-!! Translation: thank you, thank you, thank you!!” Pixie roared.

The cucumber slices on Dahlia’s eyes slid off her face when she flinched and sat up to see the commotion. She jumped to her feet and scolded Pixie, “Hey, be careful, you reckless stupe! You’ll crush my--” Before she could finish her sentence, the sun-bleached skeletons crumbled to dust in Pixie’s arms. “Ugh, fine. As you can see, the repairs are finished anyway. You’re welcome.” 

Pentious snatched one of the unopened bottles of Demonade off the table and clutched it in his arms, as if acting out the gestures of his character. Angel wiggled his arm out as Pentious stole his drink, but he leaned back in defeat, not even bothering to demand his energy drink back. 

The adventurers filled in Dahlia on everything they knew so far; Husk’s vision, the locked door, the voice whispering demands of spilled blood. Husk had an idea in mind. “Dahlia,” he started, “can you fly up and see if you can find the village?”

Dahlia, ever eager to show off her haughty merits, nodded with a sharp and smug grin. “Of course I can,” she responded with her hand on her hip. “Such a place might have more information, or even a worthy sacrifice.”

Roachie beamed in agreement. “That’s what I thought, too!” he exclaimed.

“No!” Lorae protested. “Information. We’ll find a way past that door without killing an innocent person.”

Alastor rolled his eyes at Vaggie. “Oh, Vaggie, you’re no fun, my dear,” he said with a flat tone of disappointment. Vaggie narrowed her eye and said nothing, simply staring Alastor down and refusing to budge her intentions. Despite Alastor’s persistent smile, his sigh and tilted head made his own stubbornness apparent. “Hmm, we’ll just have to see what ends up really happening when this little ragtag of misfits makes it there. Charlie, darling, consider Dahlia the group’s eye in the sky.”

Charlie smiled and nodded in response. She placed a d20 die atop Alastor’s character sheet and said the only word necessary, “Perception.”

The jungle beyond the beach was hot and humid. All but Husk and Pixie were sweating bullets as the group trekked through the jungle and towards the village Dahlia spotted and marked on a rough map sketched within her journal. What the jungle lacked in comfortable weather it made up for in its scenery; bright greens dotted with colorful flowers and fungi were spread in all directions. The croaking of frogs, the buzzing of dragonflies, and the chirping of parrots echoed beneath the thick canopy of the rainforest. As the sun began to set, a downcast of rainbow light peered between the leaves, shining down on the mossy floor. The journey to the village took an entire day and a half. The adventurers camped in the jungle, taking shelter in a tiny cave. It wasn’t until late the next morning that they finally spotted the signs of civilization beyond a creek. The thick forest cleared into a village spaced just beside a waterfall. Houses made of adobe mudbrick, erected in spherical forms, with bright cloth covering each window. No two buildings shared the same exact color, but each one had its own unique vibrance and geometric patterns. 

Charlie went on to describe the cute little village she clearly put a lot of thought into. She was standing tall and smiling as she narrated her idea of a village paradise, “And all the buildings are rainbow colors! The cat people are all so cute, and their clothes have floral patterns, and the market is very, very busy. Oh! And a lot of them have regular house cats as pets! You see a bunch of adorable little kitties meowing in the street and chasing yarn and--”

“Fightin’ bugs?!” Niffty interrupted. 

Vaggie gave Charlie a little poke. “Babe, aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked with a mildly concerned smile. 

Charlie frowned. “Oh, right… Ahem,” she sat back down in her chair as her tone turned somber. “Unfortunately, some of those pretty buildings are smashed. Parts of the village are in rubble after what you can assume to be Captain Viscera’s most recent rampage.” Charlie closed her eyes to put herself in the shoes of her characters, reminding herself of the feeling of grief upon seeing her own city suffering the aftermath of the Exterminations. She placed her hands on the table and continued setting the stage of the recent tragedy. “The town used to be so beautiful, but the area you enter is in the early stages of rebuilding. Some tabaxi cry in the streets, mourning their losses.”

The villagers welcomed Husk with open arms. Even in the wake of loss, these peaceful yet resilient tabaxi were simply happy to see another member of their kind entering the village. The other adventurers, however, experienced a rather mixed reception. Pixie was given inquisitive looks, something Pixie was used to; warforged are a rare sight to behold just about anywhere, but even rarer in remote communities such as this. When Vaez noticed the way the townspeople looked at them, they snuck around a corner to change their form. The changeling quickly morphed into the illusion of a petit tabaxi woman with white fur and dark eyes. The adventurers to receive the most suspicion were Dahlia, Lorae, and Roachie. Locals would give nasty stares and sneers as the three of them passed through the street. The tiefling and the drow were hardly unsurprised by such treatment, but Roachie resented it all the same. 

“Angel, you’re trying to pass yourself off as a tabaxi?” Charlie asked.

Angel responded by giving Charlie three thumbs up, his fourth hand still rubbing his forehead to soothe his headache. “And I’ll be posing as a mute. I don’t speak Kitten.”

Charlie nodded, passed him a 20-sided die, and added, “Then I’ll need a roll for deception, please.” Without a word, Angel took the die and gave it a spin. The number 17 rolled on the top of the die. Charlie smiled and continued, “With a plus two modifier, that’s a 19! The townspeople buy it, but you’ll still have to rely on Husk to do the talking.”

“Giggity,” Angel replied with a flat, hoarse voice. He snatched another flask of Demonade and drank its contents in a single swig.

Alastor looked down at Angel, and something almost like pity flickered in his eyes. He snapped his fingers, a dark cloud of foul vapors coalesced into the shape of a small medical bottle. A plastic container puffed into existence and fell onto the table with a loud plop in front of Angel. “Hngh?” Angel groaned and picked up the bottle. He squinted at the label, then nodded at Alastor with gratitude. “Thanks, Smiles, but I think I might need something a little stronger than Impuprofen to clear this hangover.” Just before Angel could unscrew the cap, Alastor snapped his fingers again. The plastic container suddenly disappeared with a puff of smoke and reappeared as a glass bottle. The faded paper on the glass labeled itself as, ‘LIQUID MORPHINE SULFATE: migraine and toothache relief © Luci Lilly Pharmaceuticals, 1921’

Vaggie sat having her cheek scrunched into her palm with her elbow resting on the table. She glared at the bottle and said in a commanding tone, “No hard drugs in the hotel.” Alastor hummed, then snapped his fingers a third time, and the morphine drink shifted back into Impuprofen. Without another word of protest, Angel took two tablets and swallowed it with a large gulp of Demonade, finally ready to continue the D&D session.

The six adventurers wandered the town. If half of it wasn’t in ruins, it would have been a quaint little rural village. As they explored the colorful streets, they came across the cultural heart of the town; a bustling plaza with a red stone pyramid adorned with brilliant gold on the far end, the final stop of town before walking into the wild jungle once again. The first floor of the pyramid’s interior was a small library.

“Analyzing: center of higher learning detected,” Pixie remarked.

“Indeed,” Dahlia concurred with a nod. “Our best shot at learning more about this insipid lich.”

The group approached the pyramid, the stone door wide open, welcoming anyone who wished to read. Within the first floor of the pyramid was a room with tall wooden shelves lining the walls, filled side-to-side and top-to-bottom with tomes bound with leather and full of pages made of amatl paper. Just inside, a tabaxi woman with orange fur and large glasses sat at the front desk. An armed guard stood beside her, a beefy tabaxi whose massive battle axe made himself look puny in comparison. The woman looked up and greeted Husk and Vaez warmly, speaking Chultan, the native tabaxi language. Vaez kept up their ruse of playing the mute. Pixie’s welcome wasn’t as warm, but it was the drow and the tiefling who received the librarian’s cold stare. She narrowed her eyes at them and sneered as she spoke in a disdainful tone. One did not need to speak Chultan to know that Roachie, Lorae, and Dahlia were not welcome here. 

Dahlia rolled her eyes and dismissed the librarian’s xenophobic ramblings. “I have no time for this nonsense,” she spat, despite the librarian not speaking a word of Common. Roachie flipped off his middle finger at the librarian and stormed out furiously. Without a word, Lorae simply left, unfazed by the distrust of surface dwellers. The three rejected individuals congregated outside.

“What a bitch!” Roachie snarled. 

Lorae rubbed his shoulder, hoping to soothe his anger. “It stings, I know, but it is the struggle of the drow who choose to live on the surface.”

“Cheer up, Roachie,” Dahlia reassured. Lorae was surprised to see her being sympathetic for once. Dahlia continued sharing her thoughts, “It just means that we can seek information elsewhere while the others try to read books in a language they don’t understand.”

Lorae nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” she said. “I say we ask around town, find someone who knows Common. This village is rural, but surely there are a handful of people who know the most common language in the world, right? Perhaps in a social environment, like a tavern.”

Roachie groaned in frustration. “Ugh, no!” he spat.

Niffty pouted and stuck her tongue out at Vaggie teasingly. “I don’t care about another dumb tavern in this game. I’m here to be a bad boy, goshdarnit! Charlie, I’m not stealthing through town and picking kitty pockets instead.” 

“Sure thing, Niffty!” Charlie replied, and planted a d20 in front of Niffty with a smile on her face. “Give me a slight-of-hand roll, please.” 

Niffty spun the die and snapped her fingers with a flick of her arm. “Aw, shucks! A 6!”

Charlie’s smile swiftly turned upside down into a small frown. “That’s a shame,” she lamented. “Uh… you pick one person’s pocket, but they didn’t have anything worthwhile on them. The second person you pickpocket notices you, and he turns around and lunges at you to reach for his purse! What do you do?”

Niffty rolled her single eye and giggled mischievously. “Roachie stabs ‘em, of course!”

Angel, who started to feel a bit better with a painkiller and some hydration, scoffed and leaned back in his chair with his head resting on his hands behind him. “Pssh. Typical murder hobo shit,” he said quietly. 

Vaggie spoke up to clear the tension. “Sweetheart, about that tavern…”

Dahlia and Lorae explored the town without Roachie, eventually coming across a quaint little watering hole. It was a small venue, a red adobe hut with a sign that read in Cultan with a Common translation beneath it, THE CURSED CAT. It was one of the few buildings in town that seemed entirely untouched by Captain Viscera’s rampage.

“Charming name,” Dahlia commented. “And the sign is in Common. How… convenient. I’m sure the owner has a word or two for us, don’t you think?”

Lorae nodded in agreement, but said nothing. She opened the front door to see the tavern busy, full of distressed tabaxi drinking their grief away. It was brilliantly lit with candles dangling from the ceiling, and intricate patterns painted on the mudbrick wall. The bartender at the counter wasn’t a tabaxi, but a half-orc. He was a tall and bald middle-aged man with green skin and large tusks protruding from his sharp lower jaw, pouring drinks and cleaning the counter. He waved at Dahlia and Lorae with a warm smile on his wrinkly lips. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome, new blood!” he greeted and gestured at the stools before him, inviting the two women to take a seat. “Ain’t everyday we see fresh faces in Otali, ‘specially in troubled times like these. What can I getcha tonight, ladies?”

Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a seat. “Finally, someone with a shred of hospitality. Whiskey, neat.”

“Common, thank Eilistraee,” Lorae whispered as she got comfortable on the wooden stool. “Just water for now.”

The half-orc slid a mug of water and a shot of whiskey to the women. “Ah, don’t mind the locals, they’ll warm up to you eventually if you’re plannin’ to stick around. I been here ‘bout 5 years now. Otali is usually friendlier, but as you can see, we had something of a battle just a couple nights ago. So what brings a tiefling and a drow to these parts?” 

“We’re undead hunters,” Dahlia lied. “And we’re hunting a powerful lich, probably the shambling fool responsible for all this carnage: Captain Viscera.”

The bartender gave a solemn nod and a mournful sigh. “Aye. ‘Round here, he’s called Katla-Visha, and he was nothing but a ghost story until two days ago.”

Lorae ignored Dahlia’s lie, and simply asked, “What can you tell us about him? Any information, no matter how small, could mean his end, forever.”

“I reckon everybody here would hail you a hero for putting that menace to end,” the bartender said. “Stories of Katla-Visha were about an undead lord who stole children in the night to turn them into mindless servants of Umberlee.”

Dahlia chuckled, unphased by such a legend. “Your Katla-Visha sounds like a smart fellow. Is he looking for friends?” she asked mockingly.

The bartender growled at Dahlia, “Best keep comments like that to yerself ‘round here, missy. That’s a mighty sensitive topic. You’re risking a beatdown.” 

“Ignore my prickly associate, sir,” Lorae interjected, and drank her water. “So this lich is much more than just a story now, isn’t he?”

The half-orc nodded as he started to wipe the counter clean and said, “Most thought it was just a story to keep kids from sneaking out at night. Y’know, scare ‘em into listening to their parents. Then two nights ago happened, and that old wives’ tale killed at least a third of our population. We’re lucky he had his eyes on something past the village, and not in it, or else you’d be looking at a ghost town… Heh. Probably literally.”

Lorae frowned with sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss. For all your losses. Your town is grieving.” She briefly gave Dahlia a small, chastising glare before continuing her conversation with The Cursed Cat’s bartender. “Despite my friend’s occasional insensitive comments, we’re here to help, to stop the lich once and for all. Tell me, do you know about a cave in the shape of a skull with a sealed door at the bottom?” 

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… I think I heard mention of somethin’ like that. But I just pour drinks and listen to town gossip, ma’am. If you want more information on local folklore, I reckon you should speak with the town shaman. Careful, though, she’s a bit… reclusive, and might not want to help a drow or a tiefling at first. You’ll have to convince her to help you. Her name is Cloud Runner, old tabaxi lady. Grey fur, wears ugly robes and too much jewelry. You’ll find her at the top of that pyramid most days.”

Dahlia and Lorae nodded at each other. “Then we should speak with her tomorrow. Our team is composed of six people. How much for us to stay for a few nights, sir?” Lorae asked.

The half-orc sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Tell you what, if you’re serious undead hunters and you’re here to hunt Katla-Visha, I’ll rent you two rooms at a discount. We need all the help we can get.”

“Done!” Dahlia shouted before Lorae could put in a word to disagree.

“Sssssso, resssearch time in thisss vasssst library, Charlie?” Pentious asked, fluttering his eyelids and making an effort to draw out the S’s along his tongue for dramatic effect. “May the three of usss roll for invessstigation?” 

Charlie nodded with an inquisitive raise of her eyebrow. “Absolutely! But what exactly are you investigating?” 

“Liches, of course!” Pentious answered with his ambitious enthusiasm. “I sssseek their power! To exploit their weaknesssses!” 

Angel, feeling much better already, perked up his fuzzy head with a fresh smile flitting across his face. His sudden dapper mood made him wonder if Alastor simply disguised his morphine sulfate as Impuprofen after all. “Your bard is lookin’ for info on Bitch Queen cults or whatevah in the area. I bet Captain V-Bones is out there simpin’ hard for his dom as we speak.”  

Husk shrugged. “I’ll just use the help action so they can roll at advantage,” he said. “Might as well give these dorks a helping hand.” He turned his head to face Angel, and he noted how Angel was kicking his feet and humming contently, as if his crippling hangover was a distant memory. Husk narrowed his eyes and briefly glared at Alastor; he knew his master never did favors for anyone without expecting something in return eventually. Alastor seemed to notice, and grinned wider at his minion with feigned innocent eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Pentious and Angel rolled their respective dice, a total of four little plastic stones bouncing on the tablecloth. They rolled high, thanks to Husk’s assistance. Charlie smiled at the results, and eagerly delivered a long list of information she had jotted down on her clipboard. “Fuck yes!” she exclaimed, clearly more excited than any of her players. She pointed her finger at Pentious as she read aloud some of her DM notes on her sheets. “Ahem… Pentious! Pixie learns a lot about liches. These tabaxi have extensive knowledge on their local enemies. Liches are undead, as you know, but they can’t exactly die… Unless! You find their phylactery, also known as a spirit jar. Basically, people become liches by putting their soul into a jar. When they are killed, they simply come back to life near their phylactery. The only way to permanently kill a lich is to destroy their phylactery, then defeat the lich. Soooo~, that’s gonna be what it takes to finally put an end to Captain Viscera. Of course, this means that liches would protect their phylacteries by hiding them away and sealing them in something hard to break through.” 

Pentious widened his eyes and nodded along as he listened intently, excited at the prospect of delivering the very soul of a lich to Pixie’s terrifying inventor. His mind wandered to the idea of one of his egg bois returning from a mission of great peril, offering him the soul of a Goetia prince, finally making him not just an Overlord, but the most powerful Overlord in the entire Pride Ring. Surely Pixie’s creator would reward his invention handsomely for delivering such a prize. 

Though Alastor’s character wasn’t present to hear this information, Alastor himself still showed just a small glimmer of interest at the current topic. His ears perked up and his left eyebrow raised halfway up his forehead. He let out a small hum as he considered Charlie’s explanation on how lich phylacteries worked in the Forgotten Realms. It was almost as if he saw the potential for an interesting story to be had, and if nothing else, the Radio Demon enjoyed a good story.

Charlie moved her hand to point at Angel Dust. “Angel!” she called out. “You’re able to pour over maps and historical clues to find the exact location of an old Umberlee shrine!”

Angel gave the princess a big, dopey smile, his gold tooth glinting in the light of the chandelier above him. “Understood, toots! Think we’ll find the Captain’s Umberlee body pillow there?” Niffty giggled at Angel’s little joke. 

Hours passed. Roachie, Husk, Vaez, Pixie, Dahlia, and Lorae finally recongregated under the roof of The Cursed Cat. Between the half-orc’s hospitality in dark times and the information snooped at the library, the six adventurers felt like they had a bit of direction at last.

Vaez, still taking the form of a mute tabaxi woman, played their violin on stage for tips. They chose more upbeat tunes, knowing that if these sorrowful villagers needed anything, it was some energetic music to make their day just a little bit brighter.

As Roachie, Lorae, and Husk all smiled at the performance and agreed to stay up to enjoy the village nightlife. Pixie concurred, if only to analyze the behavior of tabaxi culture. “Come with us, Dahlia!” Roachie called to her as the group sat at the bar and watched Vaez’s show from the other side of the tavern.

Dahlia stayed seated, her eyes glued to the notes from the library regarding liches. “Hmm? Oh no, my good man, I simply must stay up and learn more about what we’re up against.” She glanced up at Roachie and playfully shooed him away. “Really, please have fun without me. In fact… I think I’ll retire a tad early tonight. That orc fellow said we’re in room 4 and 5, yes? I’ll meet you all in our rooms soon. I have something interesting to concentrate on.” As she watched Roachie and the others fall into the crowd to enjoy some late night entertainment, she gathered up all the notes, checked out books, and maps in her arms and made her way up the red brick stairs to the inn room alone. “Something very interesting indeed…” she whispered, her nails tapping on the books.

The clock on the wall sounded its little bell twelve times, signaling the tick of midnight. “It’s getting late,” Charlie said. “I think we’re good to call it a night. Thank you so, so, so much for playing, everyone! It’s been a magical experience for me so far! Erm… Later this week, before the next game session, I want to meet with every one of you about an idea Vaggie had.” Vaggie blushed quietly and gave her girlfriend a thumbs up, a signal to continue. Charlie’s sweet smile widened. “Coming up are a series of side quests, featuring each of you to get the spotlight for a whole session! They’re all specially tailored to give your characters’ story arcs their time to shine! I want each of you to go through the list of items that adventurers can have, and pick ONE rare or very rare magical item that you want as a reward for your quests.”

Niffty, Angel, and Pentious all immediately started pouring through the Player’s Handbook to search for the catalogue of items. Husk was listening, but his face was so expressionless as to display his lack of enthusiasm. Alastor’s persistent smile didn’t falter or widen at Charlie’s words; it wasn’t a childish imaginary reward he cared about. The only reward he wanted was Charlie’s trust and devotion, but a potentially good ghost story would suffice. 

Angel set aside his Player’s Handbook to peruse later. “Eh, I’ll deal with it another time. I ain’t no loot goblin,” he said carelessly, just happy to be among friends. “A simple health potion does wonders, don’t it?”

Alastor’s smile turned wicked. He chuckled at such delicious possibilities.

Chapter Text

The front door to the Hazbin Hotel burst open. Pentious slithered in and pointed his index finger in the air as he called out in a commanding tone, “Hellions, gather around at oncccce! I have new material!”

Husk and Angel Dust, who were chatting peacefully at the bar, flinched at the sudden intrusion. Angel peered his head around the corner with a curious look. Husk simply looked annoyed as he walked into the foyer to inspect Pentious’ antics. “What the hell are you talking about?” Husk asked.

A gate to a ventilation shaft fell open and Niffty poked her little head out. “Ooooooh, you mean some steamy new reading material? I love fanfiction!” 

“Nonsensssse!” Pentious snapped, then started to rub his palms together as he contemplated his new evil plan. “Nay, I have Tasha’s Cauldron of EVERYTHING!” He held up a run down copy of the Dungeons & Dragons expansion sourcebook, featuring its title and a painting of a witch casting a spell from a magic tome. “AND MORE!” Pentious continued, “a new devilish game. Minion! Bring in… the cards!”

Frank the egg boi followed suit, strutting into the hotel and carrying a blue box with a cartoon snake painted on the surface above his head. He dropped the box on the floor to show off to everyone. The cover read, “The Silly Selling Party Game: SNAKE OIL - It Cures What Ails Ya!”

Angel grinned upon seeing the book. “Hell yeah, new shit!” he exclaimed as he approached the box and leaned down onto his knees to take a closer look. “And Snake Oil?” he asked.

“Sssssnake Oil!” Pentious replied with a wide smile and a nod of his head.

Frank elaborated on his master’s behalf. “Mister Boss Man found it when looking for Dungeons and Dorks books at the game store,” he said in that low-pitched bouncy voice of his.

Pentious hissed at his own minion for daring to call him something as filthy as a ‘dork.’ “What did you just call me, you fried chicken fetusss? Insssubordination! Return to the lair for punishment immediately!” he hissed

The egg creature quivered in fear with a rattling sound as he twiddled his thumbs and protested, “B-b-but, Boss, I haven’t explained the rules ye--”

“SILENCE!” Pentious interrupted, and pointed in the general direction of his hotel room. Frank murmured a coo of disappointment as he slowly walked back to Pentious’ room, looking down at the floor in shame. Pentious narrowed his eyes as he saw his minion leave and hop up the stairs.

Husk ignored the drama as he opened the box and flipped through the rule book of the card game. He started reading aloud in a flat tone, “‘To set up Snake Oil, each player takes six purple word cards. The customer for the round draws a customer card and announces it. Inventors quickly combine two purple word cards from their hand to form a crazy new product to sell to that customer. When ready, each inventor quickly pitches his or her product directly to the customer. The customer can end any pitch that goes longer than thirty seconds. The customer decides which product to buy and gives the inventor of that product the round's customer card as the prize. Inventors discard all used word cards and take two new word cards each. The player to the left of the customer becomes the next round's customer. Play repeats until each player has been the customer once. Whoever collects the most customer cards wins the game.’ Hmm, sounds like a decent party game, but I prefer poker myself.”

“Fuck it, let’s play a game!” Angel said with a playful shrug of his shoulder. He looked over at Niffty, who was still scrunched up inside the ventilation shaft, with a small smile. “Yo, Half-Pint, go grab Charlie, Vagina, and Smiles.”

Niffty saluted and disappeared back into the vents, slamming the gate behind her.

The hotel residents gathered at the bar, green and purple cards laid all over the countertop. Husk abstained from playing, choosing to serve drinks for everyone instead. Alastor found the game amusing, a good way to practice his manipulation skills when his victims knew they were being manipulated, and as part of a game, no less. Niffty, Angel, and Pentious seemed to be enjoying themselves. Niffty in particular loved coming up with macabre products like the ‘shovel knife’ and the ‘crowd vacuum.’ Pentious sat with his shoulders squared, looking proud of himself for finding this card game. Charlie was wasted, giggling uncontrollably at her own improv. “Sooooo~, Angel! Hehe, hey, hey Angel. Angel, hey,” she slurred quietly.

Angel was already on his third drink, but remained stone-cold sober as ever. He had the customer card labeled ‘journalist’ right in front of him. Pentious already pitched the ‘microphone umbrella’ - a microphone attached to the bottom of an umbrella that could both keep the journalist dry from Hell’s acid rain and broadcast their news report. Niffty proposed that Angel the Journalist buy her ‘drone pajamas’ - a cute decoration for the inquisitive rumormonger to spy on the denizens of Hell in style! Vaggie’s pitch was the product of having an unlucky hand of cards; the ‘pocket soap’ so the journalist could remain clean when in the dirtier parts of Pentagram City. Charlie and Alastor had yet to perform their improvised sales pitches. Alastor patiently waited his turn, holding his two cards and ready to speak whenever Charlie concluded selling her drunken invention. 

“Mhmm?” Angel hummed and nodded with a crooked brow, allowing Charlie to speak.

“You’re a journalist. Pfffhehehe. A journalist!” Charlie continued. She found the idea of Angel as a journalist to be absurd.

“That’s what my card says, yeah,” Angel replied with a deadpan voice.

Charlie chuckled again, leaning her elbow on the counter and shaking her hands lazily. “Okay, okay, okay.” She held up her cards and began to deliver her pitch. “Most journalists, like, get the truth or something, right? Or maybe sensational tabloid gossip, right? Right?”

Husk observed Charlie’s drunken antics and slid her a glass of water instead of pouring her another shot of vodka, saying nothing. Angel nodded again, saying nothing.

“Okay, so, get this… What if… WHAT IF!” Charlie started. She had to look back down at her two cards to remind herself of her own product. “What if you could just slide through the crowd of paparazzi with some… butter skin?” She held up her two cards with their respective names on it. Charlie burst out laughing again.

Angel paused. He squinted at Charlie with his eyebrows furrowed and raised up his forehead. “Butter skin?” he asked in disbelief.

Charlie’s laughter quieted down and she nodded with her eyes closed and a wide grin on her face. “B-butter skin!” she repeated. When she looked around the bar, she expected to see everyone laughing as much as she was. To her surprise, her companions looked more confused than entertained. She may have been drunk, but even a drunken Hellborn such as herself could recognize that Vaggie’s awkward clapping was to placate her. 

“Uh-huh… Charlie, ‘butter skin’ sounds like a brand of lube I’d find at a sex shop,” Angel replied. He shook his head and rolled his eyes when Charlie simply continued snickering. He pointed at Alastor, who was sitting at the opposite end of the bar. “Whatcha got for me, strawberry pimp?” 

Alastor’s eyes lit up in excitement. He held up his cards and spoke like he was announcing any other commercial sponsorship on his radio show, “Ah yes, well, nosy journalist, why settle for reporting on tragedies when you can create your own? With the all new ‘tragedy grenade,’ you can simply BE the inside scoop. Toss this party starter into any crowd of civilians and watch as the sinners simply write your story for you! Get your next sensationalist segment today, with the ‘tragedy grenade’!” He held the pair of cards up by his lip and clicked his tongue, then tossed the cards over to Angel like he was throwing a real grenade. 

Angel played along. He ducked for cover under the bar in mock terror. “That wins, you creepy motherfucker,” he said as he poked his head up from under the bar with a smile and walked over to Alastor to give him a pat on the back. He placed the ‘journalist’ card in front of Alastor, signifying his victory in this round. Alastor had 9 other cards. He was clearly winning the game.

“Thank you, my good man,” Alastor replied with a courteous bow. “Always happy to peddle unsavory products to the unsuspecting sinner.”

Charlie set her head on Vaggie’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Vaggie lifted her arm and ran her fingers through her lover’s hair. “Getting sleepy, hon?” Vaggie asked. Charlie nodded in response. Vaggie replied with, “Then I think it’s time we called it a night.”

Niffty kicked her feet and clapped her hands. “This was fun! So, who wins?” she asked.

Vaggie counted everyone’s cards, poking her finger in and out of her fist as her eye scanned the contents laid atop the counter and her mouth silently whispered each number. “Hmm… Alastor wins with 10 cards,” she called out. “Pentious, you’re a close second with 9 cards.” Pentious applauded himself in pride as Vaggie continued announcing everyone’s score. “Angel, Niffty, you tie for third place with 7 cards.” Niffty leapt out of her stool and skipped on top of the counter to give Angel a high five. Vaggie then announced the two lowest scoring players. “Charlie, you’re second to last with 4 cards, and I… fucking lost with just 2.”

Charlie pouted and her eyes shined with sorrow for Vaggie’s loss. “Aww, babe, I didn’t want you to lose!”

Vaggie picked up Charlie by her knees and back, cradling her in her arms. “It’s fine. I’m not a sore loser. Now, let’s get you to bed, sweetie.”

The couple were about to make their exit for the night. The others began to chat around the bar, revisiting each other’s strange products. Alastor pressed his index and middle fingers together and waved them lightly to catch Vaggie’s and Charlie’s attention before they left. “A moment, my dears,” he called out as he faded into the shadows and reappeared behind Vaggie with a sudden spark of radio static. It startled Vaggie and made her hair stand on end. Charlie looked entirely unbothered upon seeing Alastor’s sinister grin suddenly manifest right above her head. Alastor snapped his fingers, and a piece of notebook paper appeared out of thin air just before dropping onto Charlie’s lap. “Charlie, darling, I decided on what dear Dahlia will get as her reward.”

Vaggie set Charlie down back on her own two feet as Charlie read the paper in her hands. It was written in Alastor’s usual sloppy handwriting, describing a homebrewed spell that made Charlie’s eyelids droop, and not just because she was drunk. “This is just a teensy tiny bit, um… unbalanced, Alastor…” she told him.

Alastor tilted his head to the side, his neck cracking loudly as if snapping. “My my, why do you say that?”

Angel’s fuzzy face perked up from the crowd at the bar. He left the conversation with Husk, Niffty, and Pentious to poke his nose into Alastor’s idea of a homebrew. “Gimme that!” he said and snatched the paper out of Charlie’s hand and read the spell aloud, “Level 5 necromancy: Raise Undead Guardian. Casting time: instant. You touch a humanoid corpse and raise it as an undead guardian that will serve you indefinitely, as long as it is a challenge-rating is equal to or less than the level of the caster. Its creature type changes to undead, gains 60 foot darkvision, its strength becomes 18, its constitution becomes 16, it becomes proficient in simple and martial weapons, it gains immunity to diseases, poison, and necrotic damage. Being undead, it doesn’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe. It rolls its own initiative in combat. It gains a zombie’s Undead Fortitude, restoring itself to 1 HP when dropped to 0 HP. Any damage it causes now deals necrotic…” He voice trailed off, refusing to continue upon seeing that the spell’s description would only get worse. He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Smiles, the fuck is this?” Angel asked.

Charlie laughed sluggishly. “Sure, Al, you can have the spell!”

Vaggie wrapped her arm across Charlie’s shoulder. “Honey, you can worry about that later,” she said, then looked Alastor straight in the eyes suspiciously. “When you’re sober.”

Angel returned to the counter. Niffty had already left for the night, leaving just Husk and Pentious at the bar. As Husk took everyone’s empty glasses to put in the dishwasher, Pentious was packing up the Snake Oil cards to put them back in the box that was opened just beside his copy of Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. Angel picked up the book and started flipping through the pages, hoping to find a more balanced item that could satisfy Alastor’s desire of being the most powerful player at the table within reason. However, before Angel could find anything noteworthy, Pentious hissed at him and yanked the book away. “MINE!” he shouted and clamped his arms around the book.

“Don’t be like that, Slithers. Sharin’ is carin’, ain’t it? I’ll give it back,” Angel replied as he gave his best convincing smile. “Or d’you want Mister Power-Gamin’-Freaky-Fuck over there to outshine your little robot when the chips are down?” He pointed all four thumbs over at Alastor, who noticed the gesture and simply grinned back at him. Pentious relaxed his shoulders, and the two of them agreed to browse the book together over a mug of hot cocoa.

Chapter Text

The mouth of the cave smelled just as Dahlia’s companions described it. A foul miasma of rotting flesh picked up on the wind as the evening breeze brushed past the entrance. Dahlia’s nose wrinkled at the scent. Her feet were planted on the cold sand on the beach before the cave. Roachie stood beside her, waving his hand in front of his face to shoo away the smell. Despite the putrid aroma, the young man looked excited to be back here, standing before Captain Viscera’s vile lair, waiting in hiding to watch the lich leave the cave to sneak in. It was just the two of them on their little reconnaissance mission. Vaez, Lorae, Pixie, and Husk were up to their own misadventures back in the tabaxi village of Otali. Dahlia had decided to investigate this wicked place that she missed before. Perhaps there was information valuable to her own personal ambitions hidden in the decrepit halls of the lich - ambitions she could never see fulfilled in the Eltorchul Academy of Waterdeep. 

The air was heavy and humid, just as any other spot on this island. Even as the sun set and the full moon rose, the heat wouldn’t dissipate; it merely cooled. Yet as the drow and the tiefling approached the cave, the air suddenly chilled and the scent of tropical flowers decayed into putrescence. 

A rumbling sound boomed from the cave’s mouth. Black water poured out. Roachie and Dahlia stayed hidden behind the trees, watching as the Captain’s ship set sail. Dahlia’s yellow eyes squinted, spotting a familiar decrepit pirate lich at the wheel of the ship. Captain Viscera himself was withdrawing from his sanctuary, leaving only a small handful of pathetic skeletal guards to watch over his territory. Now was the perfect moment to dig through his personal effects.

Angel scoffed as he leaned over the table to watch the game. “So Smiles’ personal quest is just snoopin’ around?” he asked.

This session was Charlie’s first of many “personal quests” for each player’s character. Pentious was absent from the gaming table that night, and Husk was still running fashionably late, but Vaggie, Angel, and Niffty remained to watch or even participate in Dahlia’s adventure. “Well~,” Charlie started with a defensive tone at Angel’s question, “be patient. Alastor missed out on the game where you guys explored the cave, remember?”

“And Dahlia knows better than to leave any stone unturned,” Alastor concluded with a sly grin plastered on his face.

“Come along now,” Dahlia said to Roachie. “Let’s see what delightful secrets Umberlee’s pet has laying around.” She held out her hand, beckoning Roachie to follow, pleased to have an accomplice in her darker interests. 

Roachie saluted. Like an insect escaping into a crevice in the walls, Roachie seemed to disappear like a shadow into the darkness of the cave.

Bounce, roll, click. The number 11 faced up from the die when it stopped spinning. Niffty leaned over the table and tapped her fingers onto the surface, her eye darting from side to side mischievously. Charlie grinned at Niffty with a congratulatory nod and a single clap of her hands. “You sneak past those skeletons with no problem,” she said.

Alastor’s smile was as dishonest as ever, with his upper eyelids flat across the midsection of his irises. “Well well well,” Alastor started, putting on his act of enthusiasm, “it seems our antagonist is overconfident in his subjects’ abilities to guard his dirty laundry.”

Charlie wiggled her fingers back and forth in skepticism. “Ehhh, you still need to roll your stealth check, Alastor,” she replied. Just before she handed Alastor a 20 sided die, Alastor shook his hand with his eyes closed.

Dahlia muttered a spell under her breath, and her form simply vanished into thin air. Exploring the cave was child’s play for a simple invisibility spell. The cave was nearly devoid of any sentient presence, with only a few walking skeletons patrolling the inner walls. Even if her spell failed, Dahlia had every confidence in her and Roachie’s abilities to fight off the Captain’s little sentries. Even so, the two agreed to keep a low profile so the lich would be none the wiser. The sneaky rogue and the clever wizardess were smarter than to raise the alarm and draw even more attention to themselves.

The magical door at the bottom of the cave was still locked tight, but now that the Captain had come and gone, so did some of the evidence of his activities come to light. In one of the corners of the hall, scrolls and books laid wide open. Parchment, daggers with dried tabaxi blood, and quills using the very same blood for ink were splayed out on the table. Dahlia’s eyes glowed a little brighter at the sight. A specific item grabbed her attention: a large book sitting atop the stone desk, bound by skin and a literal spine holding the pages together. The face of a skull was sunken into the front cover, the mouth agape, just like the entrance of the cave.

Niffty kicked her feet under her seat as Charlie called her name to catch her attention, enthusiasm sparkling in her wide little eye. 

“Remember the journal Roachie and Lorae translated?” Charlie asked, her smile echoing the eagerness of Niffty’s. Niffty nodded in response, her hair bouncing with her delighted motion. Charlie continued her narration.

Roachie dusted off the journal he pulled out from his pack. The very document that started their chase for Captain Viscera across the open seas. Roachie held the journal carefully as he flipped gently through the old parchment pages, for he feared any movements too sudden could crumble these brittle pages to dust. “Miss Dahlia, wait!” he called out to his friend in a croaky whisper, keeping his voice low and quiet. Dahlia spun around, Roachie’s voice catching her focus just before she picked up the macabre book. Roachie pulled Dahlia by the sleeve of her dress. He shoved the book in front of her face to show her the contents of the open page, even though he knew Dahlia could not read Elvish. He pointed at a specific line of text and sputtered, “It’s a- a…”

“‘Libram of Souls and Flesh’?” Vaggie repeated, her face looking disappointed by Charlie’s choice of a quest reward.

Alastor chuckled at the name. “My my, such a chipper title,” he said as he rubbed his index finger and thumb together. 

Angel pointed at himself with a self-congratulatory smirk. “Not to toot my own horn, but I was the one who found that thing in that sourcebook Slithers brought back from the gamin’ store.” He leaned back in his seat, cradled his head in his hands behind him, and lifted his legs onto the table to rest his feet on the surface. 

“Aaaaand, it’s just the kind of thing you were looking for, Alastor!” Charlie beamed. She showed Alastor an open page from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, containing the description of the item. “It has all kinds of spooky spells your character can cast!”

Dahlia laughed wickedly as her gaze drifted from Roachie and onto the grotesque book on the desk. The sight of it looked all the more tantalizing to her eyes, and she noticed a camouflaged pressure plate just beneath the surface of where the book was set upon. “Our lich friend truly has a refined taste in literature,” she mumbled. Her hand slowly gripped Roachie’s shoulder, her long fingernails quietly tapping on the leather pauldron. “Now, my kleptomaniacal companion, I trust your light-fingered antics can make short work of whatever trap that pressure plate is wired to, hmm?”

Roachie and Dahlia sat back in their rented room of The Cursed Cat Inn. The moonlight shining in through the window seemed to dim when Dahlia opened the stolen Libram of Souls and Flesh, as if light itself was repulsed by the evil magic of the book. Most of the text was written in Infernal, the language of the Hells, which just happened to be Dhalia’s mother tongue as a tiefling. As Dahlia poured over the book, Roachie sat beside her, sharpening the daggers stolen from Captain Viscera’s lair. Dahlia chuckled wickedly when she found a particularly tantalizing passage tucked away in the index.

“‘Ritual of Endless Night’? By Mammon’s oversized trousers, what a delightful find!” she whispered to herself. Her finger followed the lines of text as she read the instructions for the ritual with a wide smile. As she read, her eyes glowed with a fierce hunger.

Charlie handed Alastor a torn page of notebook paper. The notes on the side of the text were illustrated with crudely drawn skulls with hearts and cartoon kitties in pointy witch hats. “You’ll need this Alastor. I recommend adding this to your character sheet,” she suggested.

Dahlia quietly whispered the recipe for a disgusting and obscenely powerful potion aloud, “‘Potion of Transformation, an ambitious necromancer’s first step in ascension to lichdom. Ingredients: 2 drops of arsenic, 1 drop of belladonna, 1 quart of blood of an infant killed with wyvern venom, 1 quart of blood of a vampire, 1 intact heart of a humanoid killed with a mixture of arsenic and belladonna poison, 7 ground up reproductive glands from giant moths, 1 pint of fresh phase spider venom.’ Well then, I certainly have a new pet project in mind.”

Roachie slammed his dagger into the wooden nightstand, cracking the surface as he giggled with a sadistic enthusiasm. “Time to go shopping!” he exclaimed with a maniacal cackle. “And harvesting, of course. For our collection!”

Alastor chuckled at the list. “Hmm… seven reproductive glands from giant moths? Aha! I think I know a certain someone who would relish the opportunity to slaughter moth creatures and harvest their testicles…”

Angel stopped texting on his phone and perked his head up to meet Alastor’s eyes with an enthusiastic grin. “Say no more!”

“Ooooh, welcome to the hunting party, Angel!” Niffty exclaimed with a delighted giggle. “Vaggie, want to come with us? I can add the moth’s fluff to a cutesy new coat!”

Vaggie crossed her arms. Her eyelids drooped and her curve of her lips drew into a flat line. “I’m not helping someone become a lich.”

“Now now, Vaggie,” Alastor waved his hand flippantly as he chastised in a mocking tone, “your uptight, humorless cleric hardly knows anything about what this great moth hunt is truly all about. For all she knows, this is simply to procure ingredients for a devilishly delicious bowl of moth stew.”

Angel nodded in agreement with Alastor and nonchalantly smirked at Vaggie. “Yeah, no meta-gamin’ allowed. C’mon, Vag, dontcha wanna get some mothballs?” 

Niffty whispered, “It’s an excellent pesticide!”

“Ugh, fine,” Vaggie groaned. “Someone has to keep everyone from falling apart.”

Charlie beamed with a small and heartening squeak. Vaggie’s expression softened upon seeing Charlie’s antics, and she patted her shoulder softly. Charlie gave Vaggie a quick peck on the cheek before clearing her throat and announcing, “Well, it just so happens that you saw giant moths in the jungles when you were hiking into town! They are nocturnal, so you’ll have to wait until night to hunt them.” 

Vaggie nodded at Charlie, but Angel was fixated on Niffty instead. Niffty could feel herself getting fully into her character. She twirled a dining fork like it was Roachie’s dagger and snickered wickedly. “Teehee! C’mon, Dahlia! Let’s buy some pretty flowers and a poison!” she enthused as she lightly tapped the points of the fork onto the tablecloth, emulating a stabbing motion. “And if it’s too expensive, we can steal it, hehehe…” 

A door to the town apothecary creaked open, the little bell attached chiming loudly with the motion. Roachie held the door open for his comrades and gave a deliberately graceful bow as they strutted inside. The first thing they noticed was the strong incense wafting through the air, like lavender and paprika. Stone shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Lotions, potions, poisons, and all sorts of alchemical reagents stocked the shelves. Baskets brimming with herbs, jars of powder, ceramic pots behind the counter growing fungi and lush flowers. 

From around the corner, an adolescent tabaxi girl wearing an apron stained with potion residue emerged. Just before waltzing into the shop from behind the storage room, she started speaking what sounded like a greeting to new customers. It wasn’t until she saw the tiefling and the drow that she stopped in her tracks. Her orange spotted fur puffed out as her eyes widened in surprise. She called out a name, and an elderly tabaxi man soon followed. He wore a large pointy hat and sported safety glasses over his dilated eyes. His grey fur was frazzled and unkempt, his smile bore chipped teeth, and an old chemical burn scarred his left ear and cheek.

In a heavy Chultan accent, he spoke, “Been a while since I’ve seen a new face. Welcome in, welcome in. Browse as much as you like.” The alchemist held out his paw, eager to shake hands with his customers, even if he secretly felt nervous at such unusual clienteles.

Lorae shook his hand gently with a bow of her head. Vaez was less graceful, pulling the alchemist’s hand into a tight grip and shook his paw with exaggerated force. 

As Vaez and Lorae inquired about potions of healing and polish for musical instruments, Dahlia poked Roachie in the back with her tail and whispered in his ear, “I’ll distract the clerk, you find and steal the wyvern poison.” Without another word, Roachie started perusing the shelves with his tongue stuck out as he concentrated hard, looking for a wyvern poison or at least wyvern fangs to turn into a poison. Meanwhile, Dahlia casually crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter, her tail calmly wagging from side-to-side. “Good day, sir. I’m looking for some belladona flowers and, well, perhaps you have a section of your shop containing heavy metals? Mercury, arsenic, that kind of thing. I’ve found such poison is ideal for exterminating particularly stubborn… ah, pests. Yes, that’s it, pests.” 

20

The highly coveted number appeared face up for Niffty’s sleight-of-hand check. Alastor leaned back in his chair with a smug grin on his face. Niffty clapped excitedly at such luck. Vaggie chuckled, not at Niffty’s roll, but at something else that caught her attention. “So, let me get this straight: Dahlia makes the clerk so suspicious by just admitting she’s doing something nefarious that Roachie steals everything unnoticed?”

“Uh… Yes?” Charlie replied with a long, puzzled pause. “Yeah, Niffty, you steal the poison and the alchemist just doesn’t even see you. He’s talking to Dahlia.”

“Pfft, you two have the subtlety of a fuckin’ sledgehammer!” Angel teased with a hearty laugh. He stood and made his way towards the door of the dining room and snapped all four fingers, pointing in the general direction of the table with a small turn. “I’m gettin’ snacks. Be right back, toots.”

Dahlia and Roachie swiftly scurried out of the apothecary shop. Dahlia with her paper bag of deadly nightshade and heavy metals, and Roachie with the stolen vial of wyvern poison hidden in his pocket.

“Excellent job, young sir!” she whispered to him as she patted him on the back. “I doubt all of the ingredients are available to us on the island, however. Tell you what: how about after all of this Captain Viscera nonsense ends, would you care to join me in my journeys? I could use a magical rogue like you as a long-term companion.” 

Roachie silently cheered with a small bounce in his step as he nodded with glee. “Absolutely, Miss Dahlia! Waterdeep treated me like a freak. Faerûn ain’t ready for partners-in-crime like us!” 

Dahlia chuckled with a sly grin. Dark thoughts flooded her mind, and her eyes glowed with a wicked spark of joy as she mused, “Just Faerûn? Oh, I think we can be more ambitious than that. But one thing at a time, sweetie.”

“One thing at a time…” Roachie repeated. He took out the vial of poison, admiring the sickly green liquid within. A quiet ring squealed from his sheath as he brandished his dagger. “And we’re not done gathering yet. You get a heart, I’ll find an infant sacrifice!”

Niffty snatched a bottle of Demonade and dipped her fork into the drink, imagining it to be the poison Roachie would coat his dagger with. Her toothy smile twitched as she giggled. She looked to Charlie from below, holding her Demonade-soaked fork up high. “Charlie, is there a nursery I can poison a kitten in? My best friend demands itty-bitty kitty blood!”

The pink dots decorating Charlie’s cheeks suddenly flushed white. “Oh dear, what have I done?” she asked herself with a quiet croak in her voice as she rubbed her temples. It was at that moment that Charlie felt the sting of regret in introducing the formula to her players. Vaggie gave Charlie a reassuring pat on her shoulder. 

Even Alastor looked a bit taken aback at Niffty’s declaration of her intentions. He glanced at Charlie, then back at Niffty. He tilted his head at her with a crack of his vertebrae. After a few seconds, he chuckled at Niffty’s sinister enthusiasm. “Niffty, darling, why don’t you demonstrate to Charlie here your skills at… elimination? I’m sure she’d be impressed at your meticulous skill with a knife.” Charlie groaned, followed by a disappointed whimper.

A loud creak echoed across the dining room. Angel returned from the kitchen with a plate of chicken nuggets. To Charlie’s surprise, Husk followed behind him with a pitcher of wine. Just as Angel set the plate down in the middle of the table, Niffty snatched a nugget and gave Angel a snap and a thumbs up, like she was imitating his mannerisms. Husk and Angel took their seats next to each other.

“Finally made it, did you?” Vaggie asked Husk, a sarcastic smile on her lips.

Husk nodded, looking less-than-pleased to make it to the game. “Fuckin’ delivery boy held me up for hours. Anyway, what’d I miss?” He set the pitcher of wine on the table.

Angel snacked on the chicken nuggets with a careless posture. “Yeah, anythin’ crazy while I was grabbin’ food?” 

Charlie poured herself a large serving of wine. “Niffty is off to do unspeakable evil…”

“Ha! I bet she is! Speakin’ of crazy shit…” Angel tossed a nugget in his mouth and poked Husk. As his lips smacked and teeth chewed, he said with a full mouth, “Say, Furball, wanna join us in pickin’ some nutsacks?”

Angel stared at Husk. His playful smirk suggested he was hoping for a shocked response, but Husk remained unfazed. He slid into his chair at the table and sighed, “Okay, it sounds like I have context to catch up on…” he droned, unamused.

Alastor’s smile widened. “Don’t worry, Husker, it’s all for a good cause!” he said with a shrug, pretending as though he was up to no good.

Chapter Text

Pentious sat in the hotel dining room alone, tapping away at his phone anxiously. He arrived at the gaming table much earlier than the session was scheduled to start, but he just couldn’t help himself. After all, Charlie announced ahead of time that he was up next in her series of personal quests. For now, Pentious had the D&D wiki pulled up on his phone’s browser to reread the text of the item he picked out to be his reward - The Lucent Destroyer:

This magic weapon is a triple-barreled bronze musket. You gain a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with it. It requires no ammunition, its damage is radiant instead of piercing, and it doesn’t have the loading property. The base of the weapon is emblazoned with the light rune. Additionally, while attuned to the weapon, you can cast Dancing Lights from the musket at will. Invoking the Rune. As an action, you can invoke the weapon’s rune to cast the Sunbeam spell (save DC 17) with it. Once the rune has been invoked, it can’t be invoked again until the next dawn.

Pentious could picture it now, like one of his egg bois presenting him with a glorious trophy, but even better. His Skin-Flayer 11000 was one of his best inventions, but a robotic minion coming back with a Lucent Destroyer would blow anything he could cobble together out of the water. An image of PX-1e brandishing the musket appeared in his mind’s eye. The robot would be disintegrating puny Sinners in the streets of Pentagram City with the full concentrated power of the Sun. Pentious blinked slowly, lost in his daydream.

Suddenly, he was brought back to reality when he heard a pair of hands clapping next to him. Charlie rubbed her hands together with a little squeal of cheeriness. “Eeeee! Pentious, are you excited? Because I am!” Vaggie and Angel followed shortly behind Charlie.

Pentious hissed as his cobra-like hood flared out. He jumped out of his seat and nearly fell backwards behind him. “You can’t just sssneak up on people like that, Charlie!” He scrambled to regain his balance and got comfortable back into his chair. His renewed senses didn’t last when the familiar buzz of radio static creeped up behind him, making his scales shiver. Alastor suddenly materialized from out of the shadows deliberately right behind Pentious. 

“Ha! Seems our resident snake is easily rattled. How amusing,” Alastor mocked as he pulled up a chair and got comfortable. 

Pentious’ tongue slithered out between his teeth. “I most certainly am NOT easily rattled, I just--” 

A falling object from on high cut Pentious off mid-sentence. “Wheeee!” Niffty’s voice squeaked as she leapt out of an air vent on the wall and fell flat on her face right beside Pentious’ tail. She held out her left fist and pumped a thumbs up in the air before springing herself back onto her feet with a small whistle in the air. She bounced and climbed into a seat beside Alastor.

Angel and Husk came into the room side-by-side and laughed about Angel’s quick work anecdote before getting comfortable. Husk slid a plate of cheese sticks to the center of the table. Pentious’ nostrils flared at the scent of freshly deep fried mozzarella filling his nose. He licked his lips and snatched a cheese stick from the plate and chowed down. 

Everyone but Charlie were snuggly seated around the table. Charlie, still standing, grinned and held her index finger up as she spoke. “Everyone’s here, so let’s get this session started!” She pointed at Pentious and her eyes shined with anticipation. “It’s Pentious’ turn for a personal quest.” 

Pentious swallowed the mouthful of cheese as he nodded with delight. “Yesss, indeed! But first, ah, what did I misssss last time?” he asked. 

Alastor’s smile glowed a brighter yellow as he chuckled softly. Vaggie sighed and said with a flat disapproving tone, “Alastor’s character making a lich potion.”

Angel burst out laughing and mimed all four of his fists punching an invisible enemy. “Oh, you really missed out, Hisser! We beat the shit outta some moth assholes and neutered ‘em! I’m tellin’ ya, lettin’ loose like that is what these kinda games are all about!”

Husk sat slouched in his seat. He raised an eyebrow curiously. “Where even were you last time?” he asked.

“Aha, well, you see…” Pentious darted his eyes back and forth, avoiding eye contact as he waved his hand in an attempt to seem unbothered. His mind quickly drifted back to exactly one week prior, hearing the sound of explosions and cracking eggshells. He remembered Cherri looking both like an intimidating villain and a beautiful warrior maiden after his inglorious defeat in the latest turf war in the Doomsday District. Pentious knew, however, that the truth would anger Charlie. An embarrassing setback in his quest for redemption. He gulped and quickly made up what he would call a little white lie. “Ahhh, a date! Yesssss, a date! With a… very nice lady…”

Angel couldn’t hold back a snicker in disbelief. While all the other players shrugged off Pentious’ lie, it seemed Charlie bought it. She pressed her hand to her heart and smiled. “Omigosh, Pentious, I’m so happy for you! What’s her name?”

Pentious’ face flushed with embarrassment and he looked away from Charlie in shame. “Uh… Uh…” He looked back and forth nervously, eyes wide open. “I’ll tell you about her later! Let’s just… get the session started!”

Charlie nodded in agreement. “That’s alright, Sir Pentious, you can tell me all about her whenever you’re ready. Aaaaanyway~,” she slid into her chair and ruffled the papers of her DM notes. 

Pixie swung the door open to the Cursed Cat Inn. It wasn’t a busy night. The half-orc bartender was wiping down the counter, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain a rowdy customer made a mess of the previous evening. Pixie planted themself atop a stool with a thud.

“Got a tankard of oil, sir?” Pixie asked.

The bartender huffed. “Can’t say as I do. I reckon you’d want to Clock Strikes Twice, the town artificer, if you need to oil your gears. Speakin’ of which…” the half-orc reached for a piece of amatl paper kept behind the counter and handed it to Pixie. “This came in for you.”

Pixie unfolded the sheet and read the contents to themself. The handwriting was sloppy, words written in block letters with jagged lines. It read: 

‘To our metallic foreigner,

Let us start by saying welcome to Otali! Your coming caused quite a stir in town, as we have no doubt you noticed. I am Clock Strikes Twice, an artificer. My colleague is Glimmer in the Dawn, a wizard. Your people, the warforged, are of great interest to both of us. We would be most interested in meeting you, as I am sure we could learn a great deal from each other. We would be happy to compensate you. Meet us in the tower at the southeast point of town any evening of the week. 

Best,

Clock Strikes Twice and Glimmer in the Dawn’

“Those are funny names! Hehehe!” Niffty remarked with a giggle. 

Angel nodded. “Yeah, D&D cats have weird names like that. These guys probably just go by ‘Clock’ and ‘Glimmer’ or somethin’ like that,” he paused and looked over at Husk with a smirk. “Hey, Whiskers, what’s ya warlock’s full name? Old Ass Corn Husk?” 

Husk shrugged. “I dunno, man. He’s just me in the game.” 

Pentious ignored the exchange. Instead, he scratched his chin and licked his lips with that forked tongue of his. Eventually, he nodded. “Very well, I accept the invitation” he said to Charlie, “but only for that weapon of masssss dessstruction that is rightfully mine! Now!” He sat up straight and panned his index finger across the table, pointing at each player. “The time to seize the enemy’s weaponry is at hand! Come, minions! Who is with me?!”

Angel laughed in Pentious’ face. “Pffhaha! They ain’t enemies, genius. Sounds like they’re just a couple o’ nerds who wanna talk shop. Right, Charlie?” 

Charlie bit her tongue and pretended to ignore Angel. Instead, she followed up on Pentious’ question. “So~, who wants to go with Pixie? Erm, I mean, PX-1e?” she asked and looked around the table. 

Niffty was the first to raise her hand. “Aye, aye, commander!”

Pentious grinned wickedly and narrowed his eyes at Niffty. “Excellent! My ingeniousss invention will need your thieving skills on the heist of the millenium. Vaez!” He pointed at Angel. “I command that you dissstract the enemy with a catchy jingle and a little dance!”

Angel puffed up his chest fluff with a small flirty smirk. “Oh honey, I’ll do more than dance for ‘em. Who can resist this hot body? When I’m done with ‘em, they’ll be beggin’ on their hands and knees for more!” 

“Loretta!” Pentious shouted and pointed at Vaggie. “We have need of a medic if my flawlesssss plan somehow fails!” 

Vaggie rolled her eye, but agreed all the same. “It’s Lorae, but sure, whatever. Cure Wounds and Healing Word has you covered.”

When Pentious turned to the cat demon sitting beside him, he did so with such haste that his finger poked Husk in his left ear. “Husk! The Lucent Dessstroyer will put Eldritch Blast to shame! Come and bear witnesssss to such power!”

Husk pushed away Pentious’ finger and adjusted the fur of his ear. He looked away and grumbled, “If you’re trying to motivate me, it ain’t working. But fine, I’ll come along.”

Last but not least, Pentious glared at Alastor and widened his grin, as if competing for a Smile of the Month award. “Dahlia…” he spoke in a voice lower than how he addressed the other players, like an intimidating growl. “You will--”

Alastor interrupted Pentious before he could bark orders at him. “I think not,” he said flatly. “Dahlia has more important things to do than waste time listening to such an uninspired interview. Your tone bores me. No no, I think I’ll simply stay and watch.”

Niffty curled her hands into fists and softly tapped on the table cloth as she chanted, “Make. The. Potion. Make! The! Potion!”

The southeast tower in question stood tall, overlooking the jungle below. A stone spiral staircase lined the outer wall leading up to a domelike structure at the top of the tower, with windows facing up at the sky. The flashlight on Pixie’s head flickered, the aperture of their eye widening and narrowing as they scanned the structure. “Obervatory detected,” Pixie beeped. “Probability of an artificer-wizard laboratory within 99%.”

“This is the place,” Vaez concurred.

The five adventurers ascended the stairs. Lorae, Husk, and Vaez admired the view. One could  not only see the entirety of the town of Otali from here, but jungle beyond. The sun was starting to set and the townsfolk below started to light their lanterns and torches. Pixie was so focused on the possibilities of this meeting that they didn’t notice the height of the tower until they spotted their own boat in the distance. The Cherry remained anchored at the shore. Though it was still unguarded, Pixie let out a buzz of staticky relief to see it untouched by looters or henchmen of the lich. 

“Ssssso my ship is safe??” Pentious asked. His hands clasped together, eyes wide and glistening like an innocent puppy.

“Safe and sound!” Charlie replied with a reassuring smile. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Pixie took one last happy glance at The Cherry swaying peacefully in the sea before knocking on the door. It slowly creaked open on its own, revealing the workshop within. A golden telescope mounted on a rotating dial was planted in the center of the dome. Orbs of arcane energy floated in a circle atop ceramic plates. A map of the stars painted the ceiling, the white speckles glowing faintly. Two tabaxi, a man and a woman, awaited the adventurers within. The man was a chubby middle-aged tabaxi - wearing knitted overalls, a thick glove over his right paw, and a metal gauntlet over his right - had his face shoved in the telescope. When he heard the door open, he pulled a pair of oversized glasses from his pocket and waved at the adventurers. The woman was a tall and lanky tabaxi with black fur, a grey pointy hat, a glowing copper wand, and colorful robes with stars stitched into the fabric. The wand in her hand stopped its blue glowing as the door opened. 

A being of pure wind descended from the ceiling; an air elemental. It almost looked like a cloudy tornado, yet the rest of the room remained undisturbed by its vortex. 

Lorae looked up at the constellations painted on the ceiling in wonder. She whispered to herself in the drow tongue, “A Eilistraee’s ssussun, folt myrloch ssin.” Whatever Lorae had just said, Roachie agreed. He nodded along with Lorae as he admired the artistry above him with her.

The pair of tabaxi looked at the adventurers aside from Pixie with furrowed brows. “Ah,” the plump artificer pressed his hands together and bowed. “Welcome, warforged. We were… not expecting extra visitors. But never mind all that. I am Clock Strikes Twice, though my simple name is Clock.”

The wizard woman pocketed her wand and bowed in front of Pixie, too. “And I am Glimmer in the Dawn,” she said, her accent much thicker than her artificer coworker. “But ‘Dawn’ will be just fine. Please, get comfortable. We have many questions to ask you.” She turned her attention to the other guests. She spotted Roachie and Vaez already getting their curious and grubby fingers all over her magical crystals. Her expression turned sour, eyes narrowed as she hissed like an agitated housecat. “Hands off before I burn them off, you insipid kupa!”

Vaez raised their hands in defense, backing away from anything they thought looked expensive - which was to say, almost everything in the room. Roachie pouted and lowered his head as he slowly walked to the end of the room and planted his head on the wall. “Eesh, alright! I’m just lookin’ around!” Vaez protested apprehensively.

Clock whispered something to Dawn, something that sounded like words to calm down. Dawn responded in hushed whispers, her eyes narrowing at Husk.

“Husk,” Charlie called out. “Please roll for a perception check.”

Husk said nothing, but he nodded in acknowledgement. He tossed the die onto the table cloth. The number 1 showed up face first on the die when it stopped spinning. Husk’s only reaction being a small sigh.

Angel laughed. “Ha! You don’t perceive shit, do ya?”

Charlie frowned and shook her head. “Eek! Uh, Husk, you don’t hear anything. You’re just… kinda distracted, I guess? A-anyway, the cat people address all of you and…”

Clock patted Dawn on the shoulder. He looked over at Pixie, a welcome smirk - almost smug - flitted across his lips. “Ah, never caught your name, saer…?” He held out his paw, inviting Pixie to answer. 

Pixie stood tall and saluted like a soldier reporting for duty. “Designation PX-1e, answering your summons, comrade! This unit is ready for the exchange of data!”

Vaez called out from behind. “Everyone calls ‘em Pixie, though!”

Clock nodded. “Excellent, Pixie, my good--”

A loud honking sound blared out of Pixie’s speakers. “I SAID, designation PX-1e!” 

“Right, saer PX-1e…” Clock said, grinding his teeth in frustration. The fur on the back of his neck started to prick up, and Dawn behind him could be seen sneering at the lot. Clock continued, “With all due respect, our invitation was for you. For only you.”

Charlie waited patiently for Pentious to respond, but he simply stared into space. Pentious’ empty face nearly resembled that of a blank stared mugshot; expressionless. That, or his mind was somewhere else. “Uh, Pentious?” Charlie addressed, waving her hand in his direction across the table. “Does PX want to say or do anything, or…?”

“I am… contemplating,” Pentious said softly. Charlie’s eyebrows raised up, creasing her forehead. She was surprised to see him so subdued in thought. It didn’t last. Pentious lips parted into a scheming grin. “Minions, show yourselves out, but remain on guard! I sensssse trouble afoot!” 

Angel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We ain’t your minions, ya fuckin’ dork,” he retorted dismissively. 

Niffty didn’t seem to mind being bossed around, however, as she twirled a kitchen knife playfully. “We’ve got your back, Mr. Robot! Until I stab it, obviously. Hehehehehe!”

Dawn gently pushed Clock aside and waved her fingers to the door. “Out. Off you go. Shoo!” she hissed sharply.

Lorae led Roachie and Husk out the door, but kept her eyes on Clock and Dawn like she was studying their behavior. Her expression had suspicion written all over it. Husk also seemed uneasy at the situation. Roachie was quick to run out in the hallway, like something caught his eye. Vaez gave Dawn a pair of middle fingers as they walked out of the observatory.

It was just Pixie and the pair of tabaxi left in the room. Dawn waved her wand, and the door slammed shut. Pixie heard a ticking sound as the door clicked shut. Their flashlight flickered as a paranoid shiver crept up the wiring of their circuitry. 

Dawn spun around, her robe flaring around her. The harsh sneer on her lips quickly turned into a satisfied smile. “Now,” she started, her voice softer. “PX-1e, we have much to discuss. I think we can learn a lot from each other. Please, have a seat.” Her paw gestured to a stone table beside the telescope at the center of the observatory, with three chairs pulled out and ready to be sat upon. 

Clock picked up a notebook from the table and smiled at Pixie. The warforged clenched their fists and crossed their arms. “I am well enough standing,” they protested. 

Dawn’s eye twitched and she put on a fake smile barring her sharp teeth. “No no, I insist!” 

The air elemental blew out a gust of wind and shoved Pixie over towards the table. Beneath the warforged boots, a once-invisible magic circle glowed a bright purple. An arcane sigil lit up the room. From the stone floor, ethereal chains shot out and ensnared Pixie’s limbs, holding them in place. 

“Aw gee, a trap? I never woulda guessed,” Angel said sarcastically, gesturing all four wrists dramatically in mock-surprise. 

“Indeed. How agonizingly predictable,” Alastor agreed. “But perhaps this pair of scientists can refurbish that gaudy contraption into something worthwhile. A radio jukebox, perhaps? Far less offensive on the ears.”

Pentious ignored Alastor’s teasing. Instead, he stared at his character token on the map before him. His nostrils flared and fury and fear. He hissed his forked tongue between his teeth as he collected his feelings and picked fury as his driving emotion. “Ssssuch audacity!” he cried. “My invention brandishes their mighty halberd and prepares for battle!”

Angel smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t those nerds have ya all tied up like a somethin’ outta a bad porn parody?” 

Niffty snickered and twirled the curl of her hair, her single eye lidded like a sultry stare. “Ooooh, they’re ready to PUNISH the bad robot!” Her lips mimed giving a small kiss.

Charlie hummed, considering her tact. “Uh, yeah, Pentious,” she started, “give me an athletics roll to see if you can break free. I’ll give that… hmm… they are magical chains, so let’s go with a DC20. Sorry!”

Pentious rolled his die and crossed his fingers. It bounced and tapped across the periwinkle tablecloth, and the number 15 was shown face-up. Pentious glanced at his character sheet and grinned smugly at the piece of plastic like he conquered a bitter rival. With his plus 5 modifier, his result was an imperfect 20. Pentious let out a long, relieved sigh. 

The glowing chains tugged at Pixie’s limbs and pulled the warforged to the ground. Pixie boomed with loud static like a contemptuous growl. They kicked and squirmed in their restraints. 

Dawn circled around Pixie and rubbed her magic wand like it was a beloved pet. She purred, the conceited cat she was, as she said something in Chultan to Clock. The artificer nodded, agreeing with whatever Dawn had told him, as he opened a toolbox complete with wrenches, screwdrivers, pliers, and drills.

“Now,” Clock started with a purr just as smug as Dawn’s. “I’ve invented my fair share of weapons, but you warforged are a whole new specimen. My friend here and I will learn much from reverse-engineering you. Disassembly is the best way to start…” His paw reached out into his toolbox, and he pulled out a pair of pliers.

As the pliers neared Pixie’s face and tapped onto their neck socket, they flinched backwards, their mechanical heart ticking like a geiger counter at ground zero. “Disassemble…” they repeated. A small pause, and the aperture of their flashlight head dilated in panic. “No disassemble!” Pixie writhed and shook in their bonds, the sound of metal banging against the shimmer of arcane energy screeching across the room.

Shink.

Snap.

Crack.

Burst.

The magical chains relented. Even the might of the arcane couldn’t tame the stubborn willpower of such a determined warrior. The boom of a broken chain relenting under such pressure pierced the ear drums of Pixie’s captors. Pixie was free, their eye flashing a hateful red.

Vaggie crossed her arms and tilted her head curiously. “Babe, do any of us hear all that commotion?”

Charlie nodded and gave Vaggie a grateful couple of pats on her shoulder in thanks. “Oh, right!” She raised her finger and called out, “Everybody except Pentious, roll perception!”

A sound of tapping plastic bounced off the tablecloth as 4 dice spun and bumped across. Charlie’s eyes zipped around the surface of the table, taking in the numbers the dice revealed. She cleared her throat and announced the results of their rolls, “Lorae and Vaez don’t notice anything. Roachie and Husk, you hear all kinds of racket and shouting on the other side of the door. Husk, you can hear exactly what’s being said.”

Husk chugged down the last of whatever alcoholic drink he had kept in his flask. He set the bottle down and sighed. “Alright, alright, I open the door.”

“It’s locked,” Charlie replied with a slight frown on her lips.

Niffty picked up a fork and held it up high as she yelled, “Roachie’s lockpick to the rescue!”

Roachie closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out as he pressed his ear to the lock and fiddled with its inner springs. The sound of a struggle boomed on the other side of the door as Roachie’s pick finally latched every pin into place. The door slid open with a loud creak.

Already Pixie was slashing their halberd in a furious rage. Clock had a bronze gauntlet strapped on his arm, gripping the shaft of Pixie’s halberd in a tight shocking grasp, glowing with blue electricity. Dawn spewed out a magically conjured icicle from her hand immediately at Roachie as he opened the door, striking him in the shoulder and instantly numbing his arm.

“Roll initiative!” Charlie exclaimed with an enthusiastic wave of both her arms. 

“Oh fuck yeah!” Angel yelled as he cracked his knuckles and rolled his dice just as everyone else did. He smirked at Alastor as he cupped his head into his hands and rested his elbow on the table. “You’re missin’ out on all this action, Smiles. Ain’t ya just a bit sad ya decided to bail?”

Alastor scoffed and rolled his eyes with a sardonic wave of his hand. “Hardly. Watching other people sow chaos and seeing it unfold into violence from a respectable distance can be just as entertaining as getting your hands dirty yourself.”

Niffty looked up at Alastor and giggled wickedly. “I’ll stab ‘em silly in your honor, sir!” She was already plotting her revenge on the wizard who struck her character with the icicle.

“Atta girl,” Alastor responded and patted Niffty on the head. Niffty beamed and posed her fists on her waist triumphantly.

Pentious noticed it was his character’s turn in the fight. He rubbed his hands together, like he was plotting something big and wicked. His eyes quickly flitted to Charlie, who was grinning at the sight of her players’ banter. Pentious raised a finger and asked, “Do I actually ssssee my Lucent Destroyer within the premisessss?” His tongue flicked out mischievously as he enunciated every S consonant against his teeth. 

Charlie picked up a 20 sided die, planted it right atop Pentious’ character sheet, and replied, “Either perception or investigation, please.”

Pentious apprehensively picked up the die with his right hand, and held his left hand up with crossed fingers as he dropped the die back onto the table. Upon the topside of the die displayed the number 18. Pentious pumped his fists in victory, and Charlie happily added a highlight on the players’ map and stated, “Oh good! Ah, PX sees a sparkly musket in a glass display case on the wall, in this area over here. It’s really pretty!”

“And deadly!” Pentious shouted. “My brilliant invention ssssmashes the glass and takes it for themself!” He moved his character token over to the spot on the map Charlie pointed out.

Charlie twiddled her fingers a bit nervously as she said, “Eh, you’ll need a strength check for that. Also, Clock will get an opportunity attack on you as you move out of--”

“I don’t care!” Pentious yelled. He snatched the die and shook it between his clasped fists. He tossed the die on the table with a force so strong, the die went bouncing off the table and on the floor beside Charlie’s shoes. Looking down at the die, she pulled her foot away and pouted at it with her tongue sticking out. She picked up the die and gave a small, guilty smile as she said, “I-it’s a critical success! See, Pentious? A nat 20! You got the musket!”

Alastor, who was sitting just beside Charlie, had his gaze follow her hand as she showed the resulting number to her players. His grin widened with a knowing smirk, eyes glowing with a wicked red for a split second. He patted Charlie on her shoulder in approval. Charlie laughed nervously, burying her shame with a little chuckle. Pentious marveled at the number 20 in Charlie’s hand and clapped his hands in self-congratulation. 

Pixie pushed Clock away with the butt of their halberd. A small crackle of electric magic zapped Pixie in the back of their armor as he charged to the wall. They brushed off the pain of electrocution while they slammed their metal fist into the glass case. Glass shards splayed out like a splash of razory water. The aperture within Pixie’s eye dilated when they felt the magic imbued within the brass of the musket’s barrel. It was warm in their palms. Pixie marveled at the contraption while a battle played out behind them.

Roachie hurled a dagger at Dawn. The blade pierced Dawn in the gut that sent her stumbling backwards and clutching her waist in pain. “Hands off my metal man, pussy!” Roachie screamed. 

Lorae lifted her sword up high. The blade glowed in the moonlight shining through the top of the observatory. “Encanto te!” she called out, and her sword shined with the radiant light granted from her goddess. Lorae brought her sword down and charged at the air elemental. Her blade, charged with holy energy, cleaved through the air elemental’s electric shackles that kept it bound to Dawn’s wizarding will. The creature fizzled and crackled in what could be interpreted at a sharp pain throughout its body. It writhed in agony, the air around buzzing with electricity.

Dawn sneered at Pixie’s friends shuffling in. Her hands glowed with a flaming surge of outrage. She cursed in Chultan at them as an orb of pure fire balled up in her palms. Her eyes narrowed, furious, and she blasted the fireball at the four adventurers coming through the door. 

“Dawn casts fireball at Vaez, Husk, Lorae, and Roachie,” Charlie said as she drew a red circle on the map around their respective character tokens. She took out 8 6-sided dice of all kinds of soft pastel colors from her basket of dice and rolled them behind her DM screen. “Uh, I’ll need a dexterity save from you 4, with a DC 15. You’ll take 32 damage if you fail, 16 if you pass.”

“Oh HELL no!” Angel bemoaned. “I ain’t lettin’ these pussycats set my fuzzy ass on fire.”

Fire surged the air with a flash of heat that scorched the hides of those caught in its storm. Dawn didn’t care for the loss of her wooden door, only to see these intruders burn with her wrath. The raging heat reignited when Dawn’s air elemental flew down to the crowd and unleashed a whirlwind with the force of a howling tempest. The force of the winds sent Lorae, Vaez, and Roachie flying through the air and crashing against the wall. The wall greeted Roachie’s skull with a resounding CRACK, and the young drow fell to the ground, unconscious. 

“Eek!” Niffty squeaked and bit at her nails anxiously. “My bad boy is too squishy for this! Squishier than a bug! Vaggie, heal me, heal me!”

Vaggie gave Niffty a reassuring smile as she replied, “Don’t worry, I got you when my turn comes up again, Niffty.”

Vaez grunted and crawled to their feet. They saw Clock turning some gears on his gauntlet. Vaez’s eyes narrowed; they wouldn’t let that smug artificer use whatever contraption on his hand against their friends.

“I sing a raunchy song an’ polymorph that sonuvabitch into an adorable lil’ piggy. Watch ‘im oink when he tries to use that flamethrower of whatevah he has on his grubby paws,” Angel said. His eyes fluttered as he imagined his beloved Fat Nuggets trying to operate any kind of machinery. The pig’s hooves would cluelessly prod at the handlebars, nose twitching as he sniffed the scent of oil. Angel smirked, and pressed his hand to his chest, preparing to sing. “Oh, and here’s the song Vaez sings. Ahem: ‘Oops, I got way too damn horny. Boy, we’re turnin’ into a slutty--’”

“ANGEL,” Vaggie snapped, “callete el jodido hocico!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes and scoffed. “For once, I agree with Vaggie, Angel. If you insist on butchering music, at least pick something with a modicum of class. Though I doubt you'd recognize it if it bit you! There are many timeless classics I have lined up for my radio show I can share with you. Certainly more tasteful than whatever debauched nonsense you were spouting out.” He snapped his fingers, and the radio in the corner had a young man’s voice singing, “In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking but now, God knows anything goes.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you to help out, Alastor!” Charlie mused with upturned lips on her face. “But~, you could be a little nicer about it.”

Angel leaned back on his chair and held all four hands up defensively. “Fine, fine, I sing a borin’ song for prudes. Damn.” 

Vaez sang, and pink fumes puffed out of his breath. The colorful wind encircled Clock and doused him in sparkling smoke. Clouds of bubblegum pink buzzed around the artificer, whirling like a tornado. The cloud was so dense, it made Clock look like a ball of cotton candy. The smoke dissipated, and Clock was no longer a brilliant tabaxi inventor, but an adorable little piglet. The polymorphed man squealed, panicked, and trotted all around his laboratory. He tried to speak, but only oinks and squeaks left his throat, hooves clicking and clanging across the stone floor only to crash snout first into the closest person in the vicinity.

Husk kicked the piglet off his leg as the beast tried desperately to knock him over. “Ugh. Time to go, you little shit,” he cursed under his breath as he pointed right at the air elemental. “Valeo!” he shouted. Beneath the elemental, a portal opened. Black tentacles slithered out of the magical gateway and swallowed the elemental whole into a cocoon of darkness. The portal closed, banishing the elemental to another plane of existence for as long as Husk could hold the spell in his mind.

Pixie cocked the Lucent Destroyer, ready to fire. The Warforged spun around and charged at Dawn. With the musket pointed right against her face and lighting up the barrel, Dawn raised her hands up in surrender. “Wait!” she cried out. “I’m not dying for this.” She glanced over at the portal holding her air elemental hostage, and at the piglet struggling to return to his true form. “WE aren’t dying for this! Take what you want and get the Hells out of our laboratory. We won’t even report this to the authorities!”

Pentious stood from his chair and cackled the most wicked laughter he could muster up. “Mwahahaha! Victory for the great PX-1e and their ssssinister overlord! Soldiers, I command that we loot the entire tower! Take every contraption, every schematic, every gold coin!” 

Charlie looked at Pentious with a sparkle of hope in her eyes. She hoped to encourage him in his quest for redemption, be it at the gaming table or away from it. “So, you accept her surrender?” 

“But of course, Charlie!” Pentious responded. He grinned and bowed down respectably, reveling in Charlie’s approval. “Even ssssomeone as diabolically evil as ME can be… reasonable. Now! Hand over the loot!”

Angel cracked his knuckles and stretched all four arms, arching his back with a smirk. “Fuckin’ gladly! But only if you give us our fair share, toots,” he offered, snapping a finger at Pentious.

“No! No, no, no!” Niffty protested out of nowhere. “Miss Dahlia needs hearts for her potion! C’mon, let Roachie perform heart extraction surgery!” She looked around the table and saw all but one of them giving her a disapproving stare. All but Alastor, whose smile softened as he gave her a thumbs up. Niffty pouted at everyone else and turned her head to say to Charlie, “Charlie, Roachie pulls out his daggers and cuts open their chests and rips out their hearts and gets blood EVERYWHERE! Is that an attack roll or a medicine check?” 

Charlie frowned at Niffty, and Husk answered the question for her. “Niff, Roachie is unconscious, remember?”

Niffty panned her gaze over at Vaggie, mustering up the ultimate adorable puppy eye she could muster. “Vaaaaaggie~?” she asked, poking her index fingers together. As she pleaded, her eye started to sparkle with every blink. “Could you heal me so I can take the hearts? Pretty please?”

“No,” Vaggie answered with a flat tone and a straight face. “Lorae picks up Roachie and carries him out.” 

Charlie, eager to change the subject, stood from her seat and unfolded a page in her notes. “Ahem. And with that, adventurers, you loot:” She paused and read aloud the list. “214 gold split evenly, a Bag of Holding, 8 health potions, a metal crab about the size of a dinner plate, and last but certainly not least, the Lucent Destroyer weapon for Pentious!” 

Pixie held the musket up high in victory. “Task completed. My dark master will be most pleased. Outward, comrades in arms, before the felines recalibrate their motives!”

Vaez swiped the magical bag off of Dawn’s desk and shoved as many valuable-looking items as fast as they could. On Clock’s workbench, Husk found a curious statuette of a golden crab. It was fairly small, but the small nooks in its joints piecing it together made it look like it could move, if it was given the means to operate itself. He pocketed the crab and flipped off Clock and Dawn as he strutted his way out of the laboratory with his other companions, poor Clock still bouncing around the room as a panicked swine. 

Lorae held out her hand at her fellow drow. She put her finger to his neck, and was relieved to find a healthy pulse. Lorae stopped her healing spell as she heard the sparking of electricity buzzing in Dawn’s paw. She sneered at Dawn, and rolled Roachie onto her shoulder, carrying him out of the tower on her back. Roachie would need healing soon, and Lorae started muttering a healing spell. Roachie stirred, his throat gurgling with his own saliva. He came to, his eyes flicking open. “No! Their hearts… Must… Get… Their…” he grumbled and lost consciousness again. 

The game had ended hours ago. Pentious was overcome with inspiration. He sat at his workbench in his room, his hands scribbling new ideas into his notebook. To wield the power of Hell’s sun, concentrated in the form of a laser beam was something he knew he simply must install onto his war machine. Surely the Exorcists of the next Extermination Day would tremble at his infernal invention. The unholy weapon would shoot out a beam of yellow light so bright that it would turn Hell’s red sky orange. Such power could take them all on, every last one of them, of that Pentious was sure. If he had such a weapon in real life, he’d fasten it to the helm of his airship and blow Adam himself to smithereens. 

And so Sir Pentious got to work.

Chapter Text

The evening was a relatively peaceful one in Husk’s bar. 

Charlie sat on a stool right at the counter, sipping away at a Shirley Temple. As much as she craved a stiff drink after breaking up an especially heated argument between Vaggie and Alastor, she knew she needed a sober mind to be a good DM for Husk that night. The jukebox sang Alastor’s usual playlist of soft jazz. Husk wiped down the countertop, not that there was much of a mess that evening. Business was slow those nights. Any new faces walking into the Hazbin Hotel were few and far between, and none of them stayed for long. 

The clock struck midnight, right when the bar was scheduled to close. Charlie lit up with excitement. “Husk, it’s time!” she exclaimed with a quiet clap of her hands in front of her face. 

“Yeah, yeah, time for that one-on-one game, right?” Husk pointed at Charlie’s empty glass. “Want a refill before I close down the bar?”

Charlie held up her glass. “Yes, please! And make one for yourself, why don’t you!”

Husk mixed up another mocktail with a quick shuffle of all the ingredients and slid the refilled drink to Charlie. He smiled at her softly. “Ah, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll just crack open a beer.”

Charlie stirred the Shirley Temple with the straw as she said, “Husk, you shouldn’t play drunk. Isn’t it more fun sober?”

“Pfft, I can hold my liquor, kiddo. One beer ain’t gonna get me drunk,” Husk replied with a wave of his hand. He flipped over the sign above the bar from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, dimmed the lights, and pulled a cold can of beer from the refrigerator.

Charlie reached under her stool to pull up a bag onto the counter, containing Husk’s character sheet and her dungeon master notes. She patted the stool next to her, inviting Husk to sit. He slid onto the seat, getting comfortable as he cracked the beer can open and pulled his character sheet on the countertop before him.  

“So,” Husk started, unfolding his character sheet and looking it over, “how’re you gonna pull me outta the tavern this time?”

Charlie clicked her pen, skimming through her notes. “Well, what do you want to say your character is doing this evening before I pull you out of it?”

Husk sipped his beer. “Hmm, I suppose it’d look a lot like right now…”

The evening was a relatively peaceful one at the Cursed Cat Inn. 

Husk sat on a stool right at the counter, sipping away at a strong mixture of mezcal and pulque. He craved a stiff drink after breaking Pixie out of a heated battle in the observatory tower, and who needs a sober mind after such an ordeal? Vaez danced atop the stage and sang a tune of soft salsa music for the few patrons before them. The half-orc bartender wiped down the countertop, not that there was much of a mess that evening. Business was slow those nights. Any new faces walking into the Cursed Cat Inn were few and far between, but those who did show up stayed at the bar all night, drowning their sorrows.

Grief was poison for the tender heart, and Otali ached from that poison’s toll on the hearts of its villagers. Those who showed up would arrive only to poison their bodies further with alcohol. The mezcal flowed endlessly in the wake of Captain Viscera’s butchery.

Against Husk’s better judgement, he decided to gamble with some of the tavern’s patrons. He always kept a deck of playing cards on him, and a few spells his patron granted him that could spin the luck in his favor. He knew better than to play fair. After all, playing fair while gambling cost him his very soul.

“Okay, Husk!” Charlie started with eager eyes sparkling at Husk, “just a friendly reminder that since you’re a Great Old One warlock, your patron is the one that gives you your powers.” She wiggled her fingers and spoke in the lowest octave she could muster, attempting to act as a sinister narrator. “As you cast Detect Thoughts, you hear your mysterious patron whisper in your head.” Her line delivery was closer to that of a puppy trying to sound like an intimidating wolf.

Husk sighed. “Fine. What does the Great Old Asshole want this time?”

Just as Charlie started to utter the first words of the patron’s orders, the radio in the corner seemed to malfunction, turning her attention away from the game. The radio buzzed as the jazz music switched to the sound of a dark chuckle. The machine twitched and puffed out black smoke, which coalesced into the form of a familiar Radio Demon. First his yellow smile, then his red eyes, and finally the rest of Alastor. He twirled his cane and scoffed. “Oh my goodness me, such insubordinate language from our favorite bartender. Ha!” he said with dismissive sarcasm. “Rest assured I won’t resort to whispers in your head, but I will need you to take a trip to the Doomsday District on my behalf in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Husk responded just before taking a long swig of his beer. “But I’m busy right now, boss.”

Alastor bowed courteously, but his tone was drenched in condescension. “Of course, my dear kitten. I wouldn’t dream of distracting you from this childish diversion for too long, but please stop by my office before you fully retire for the night.” And with that, the Radio Demon simply faded back into the shadows, and the radio clicked at it resumed its usual playlist of blues music to fit the calming atmosphere.

Charlie watched the exchange silently, eyebrows creased and lips pursed with worry. She knew it was best for Alastor to get his orders out of the way as fast as possible when it came to Husk. When Alastor left as quickly as he arrived, her enthusiastic grin returned with a relieved sigh, and she continued her session like nothing happened, “As I was saying…”

Husk listened in closely as he tapped into the thoughts of the fellow tabaxi gambler sitting across from him. He was much younger than Husk, less experienced at games of chance. Husk was able to slip into that psyche of his and peer into that train of thought. The narration of the young man’s inner monologue was quickly interrupted by the booming voice of the Great Old One of the Far Realms. It was a voice Husk hated to hear every time it weaseled its way into his head, and always at the most inopportune moments. 

Charlie cleared her throat. “So! Yeah, Husk, you hear it give you a weird list of nonsensical errands to run. Ahem:” she straightened out her notebook and read aloud from the contents on the page, “Draw an eye on the base of a water fountain in the middle of the village plaza, give a random beggar exactly 1 silver and 13 copper, ask the apothecary about invisibility potions but don’t buy anything, and then go to the temple pyramid and tap the wall exactly 8 times.” 

“Great,” Husk grumbled. “I’m havin’ bullshit orders barked at me in multiple realities.” 

Charlie frowned in disappointment. “Oh no, Husk, are you not having fun? Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, you’re fine, kid,” Husk said. He gave Charlie a small smile, reassuring her. “I’m just being a grumpy old fart.”

Husk shrugged off the orders of his enigmatic patron. He understood his instructions, even if he didn’t speak the bewildering tongue of Deep Speech. Somehow, he simply knew them like an inborn instinct, or if they were engraved on the inside of his skull. 

Jackpot. Husk drew his final card, and with the help of his patron’s powers, the man across from him gambled away every last coin in his pockets. The young man threw his glass to the ground in rage and stormed out. The bartender chastised him on the way out, demanding he pay for the broken cup. Husk collected his winnings, and made his way to the plaza.

Husk flipped his character sheet over to look at his character’s possessions. He remembered a sculpture of a golden crab he looted from the wizard’s tower in the last session. “Charlie, what was that crab thing I got last time? Does it do anything?” he asked. 

Charlie gasped, then nodded with an embarrassed smile. “Oh shit, thanks for reminding me!” she exclaimed. She flipped through a few pages of her notebook. “Yeah, that little critter will be helpful at the end of the session. Hang onto it!”

“Okay, but what IS it?” Husk asked again, as he scratched the fur behind his ears.

Charlie chuckled at her DM notes, and replied, “Hehe. It’s called a Vox Seeker! It’s a mechanical crab that fights the closest voice it hears when you wind it up.”

Husk raised an eyebrow, the feather waving above his head. “A what seeker? Ah, fuck it. I’ll give it to Alastor next session or whatever.” 

The princess nodded in acknowledgement. She gave Husk an encouraging smile as she said, “Sure thing, Husk, but it’ll be useful at the end of the night. You’ll see!”

“Right, right,” Husk responded. He took another sip of his beer and rolled his wrist, “Moving on then…”

Otali at night was dead quiet, only the sound of jungle crickets and flames burning on the outdoor torches filling the silence. The side of town untouched by the battle with Captain Viscera remained peaceful. The plaza wasn’t as lucky. Part of it was destroyed, though by now, it seemed the locals did a fair job at clearing the rubble. The water fountain in the center of it was carved into the shape of a pyramid, designed to have water pouring out from the very top and cascade down the miniature steps. Whatever plumbing or magic that powered its flow of water was either broken or simply turned off. The basin was empty, but the dried moss growing on the stone showed that it was usually a wet surface. 

Husk looked back and forth all around him, making sure no one would see his act of vandalism. He pulled a piece of charcoal out from his pack and scrawled a sloppy symbol of an eye at the bottom of the basin. 

The sound of clanging on metal echoed loudly from behind the bar. “Goshdarnit!” Niffty’s voice squealed in frustration. She was cleaning down the spigots of the drinks on tap when one of them started spewing out a flood of pale ale. “Husky, one of your fountain taps is broken!!” Niffty whined and whacked the machine with the butt of her duster. Whatever inner workings her blunt force blocked, it stopped the barrage of ale. “Don’t you worry, Husky! I’ll get the mop and clean up this mess in a jiffy!” Before she scurried off, she pulled out a hot pink marker and drew a little symbol of her eye on the broken fountain, signifying it as the malfunctioning spigot and a reminder for herself to keep an eye on it.

With a frustrated breath, Husk stood from his chair. “Lemme take a look,” he said as he took a few steps towards the bar. 

Niffty pounced onto the counter and shook her finger at Husk. “Oh no, sir! You get back to your game. I’ve got this!” She jumped down from the countertop and tugged at Husk’s suspenders from behind him, urging him to return to his seat.

“Just don’t get stuck in the plumbing again,” Husk said with a sigh as he fell back into his chair.

As Husk made his way back to the Cursed Cat Inn, he spotted a woman curled up in the street, rocking back and forth. Her fur was matted and greying, her eyes were bloodshot as if she had just finished sobbing. She had a jar beside him, filled with a measly amount of coins. With a good chunk of the village in ruins, it was no surprise that the massacre left many townsfolk homeless. Husk opened his coinpurse. The instructions burned in his mind flashed before his eyes. Exactly 1 silver and 13 copper, the voice repeated in his head. Husk clicked the coins together and tossed them into the woman’s jar.

Husk’s phone vibrated in his pocket, followed by a pair of dings. He quickly took his phone out of his pocket and held it screen-up right beside his pocket, peeking at the notification and holding up his index finger at Charlie to give him a moment. He wasn’t used to notifications this late at night unless it was something important. It was a text message from Angel that read: 

•  hey 🐱 could u spot me like 13ish? lost a bet w/ cherri n i’m short a few bucks. i’ll pay u back asap i promise. 🙏
  • • .Ya, I gotchu. Check your Voxmo
•  thx whiskers 😘 i owe u one
  • • .Don’t sweat it, kid. You don't owe me a thing

Husk slid his phone back into his pocket. As much as he wanted to help those around him, he couldn’t get so much as a small Dungeons & Dragons session without real life dragging him back out of it. He plopped his elbows onto the table and rested his chin onto his palms. “Ugh. What’s next on the task list?”

Charlie smiled warmly at Husk and answered, “Your patron said it wants you to ask about invisibility potions at the apothecary, but not to buy anything.”

“Uh huh…” Husk nodded, followed by a roll of his eyes. “Charlie, are these errands actually going anywhere?” 

“Weeeeellll~,” Charlie shrugged and fidgeted her thumbs together, “the spooky monsters in the Far Realms ARE a bit, uh, surreal, I guess? It’s supposed to be like something that would only make sense in a dream.”

“Huh, ain’t that the truth? Some Lovecraftian bullshit.” Husk chose not to elaborate once he saw Charlie’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “Shop’s gonna be closed this time of night. Guess I’ll go in the morning.”

The alchemist’s young apprentice eagerly showed Husk around the shop. She was much calmer than the last time Husk saw her; her orange spotted fur was fluffy and relaxed now. Perhaps she was simply relieved that the drow and the tiefling who stole the wyvern poison she worked hard at brewing didn’t come back this time around. She held up a bottle of silver liquid, an invisibility potion her master had recently taught her. It was her finest brew yet, and she was itching to show it off. She looked to be in her adolescence, full of passion and ambition, yet seemed nervous. She spoke extremely quickly to fight off the performance anxiety. “The ones Master Sunstone brews are more expensive, but they last longer and taste like chocolate. Mine are, eh… the taste is really bitter and they may give you a stomach ache, but they are perfectly safe to drink and are much cheaper. In fact, I think Master Sunstone adds a distilled essence of…” her monologue went on and on.

Husk started to tune her out. Several potions in gilded bottles caught his eye. As much as he wanted to buy a few, the voice of his patron kept repeating the instructions in the back of his head: buy nothing, buy nothing.

Husk poured the last few drops of his beer into his mouth. He considered helping himself to another serving, but ultimately decided against it. He never had to pay for his own drinks, but he still preferred the cheapest brews. However, tonight was a rare night in which he didn’t feel the need to get truly drunk for once. He’d drink himself until he felt like disappearing another night.

The temple pyramid already had a fresh coat of bright yellow paint on its lower floor. These villagers seemed to put their holy sites in higher regard for the roofs over their own heads. Husk was reluctant to spoil the new paint job with his knuckles, but orders were orders. Disobedience wasn’t worth the punishment of sanity-testing nightmares. Husk found the driest patch of brick and gave it 8 small knocks, careful not to disturb the paint. 

“My inventions!” a distressed voice bellowed from the other side of the walls. Fists pounded on the bar room door 8 times, each bang shaking the wood on its hinges. The door swung open. Pentious held his fist in the air, like he was pretending to have opened the door with brute strength rather than turning the handle. He hissed, his tongue slithering out from between his teeth, but his eyes looked fearful and worried. 

Husk looked at Pentious with a deadpan poker face, entirely expressionless. “Bar’s closed, dumbass. Come back tomorrow.” His voice was low and unbothered by whatever problem Pentious could have at this godforsaken hour.

Charlie got up from her stool and held out her hands diplomatically in a gesture of peace. “Hey, let’s all settle down and talk this issue out. Pentious, what’s this about your invention?” she asked in a calming tone.

Pentious ignored Charlie and Husk and dashed to the bar. Niffty poked her head up from behind the counter and blinked as she set the mop aside. Pentious darted his eyes frantically to the floor behind the bar, only to see his binder of schematics drenched in ale and soap. He shoved Niffty aside and snatched the binder. “My beautiful inventions! Oh, how will I finish my death ray now?!” Pentious lamented, his eyes watering like he was on the verge of tears.

Charlie looked down at the binder dripping with soapy water with a touch of alcohol. She watched Pentious flip through the wet papers, and her concern turned into relief. “Pentious, it isn’t too bad, see?” she pointed at the diagrams. Even if she had no idea what exactly she was looking at, it looked clear enough to her. “Tell you what, once I finish this session with Husk, I’ll loan you my hair dryer. We can dry out the paper, and I’ll help you copy all these drawings onto clean paper. How does that sound?” Pentious sniffled and nodded, and Charlie led him to the bar room entrance with her hand set on his shoulder. She sat back down on her stool and exhaled deeply. “Now… where were we? Oh, right, the temple wall!”

Just as Husk’s paw tapped the walls, a black circle formed at the site of impact. It grew from a microscopic dot to the size of a door in the blink of an eye. The portal swirled black ink with white spots like stars sparkling the vast, empty cosmos. A thick, black tentacle shot out from the portal, spewing oily ink onto the floor in its wake. It uncurled in front of Husk and dropped a wooden box, decorated with a soft pink ribbon, at Husk’s feet. The slimy tentacle patted Husk on the head in gratitude before retreating back behind the portal. Husk picked up the box and held it to his ear, giving it a small shake to gauge what was inside it. An irritated growl rumbled between what sounded like shuffling cards within. Husk’s ear twitched and his face grimaced. He unfurled the ribbon and opened the box.

Dark fog bubbled out of the box. A piece of parchment neatly rolled up unfolded before Husk. He gripped the paper and looked it over. It read: “Thank you for making my return to Toril possible. Enjoy your prize, and one of my little friends to practice your new powers on. XOXO”

When Husk finished reading, he looked down at the box in his hands. Inside was what looked like a deck of playing cards, with a symbol of a large orange eye decorating the back side of each card. The eye on the top card blinked and glanced around in all directions, studying its surroundings. Its pupil narrowed when its gaze landed on Husk. The eye popped out of the card and grew out a stem from the optic nerve behind it, then another, then another, until it took on an orb-like body with a wide eye in the center, a hungry mouth with a wagging tongue, four eyestalks protruding from the sides of its body, and skin thick, lumpy, and rubbery, with numerous blood vessels visible on the surface.

“Husk, your patron rewarded you with a Deck of Wild Cards! Oh, and a spectator for you to fight. Roll initiative!” Charlie announced and tossed a 20 sided die at Husk’s side of the table.

The spectator roared. The golden crab in Husk’s pocket activated. It skittered out of his bag and gnashed its pincers at the loud monster. Husk picked the freshly awoken Vox Seeker back up and threw it at the spectator’s central eye. He brandished the Wild Cards between his fingers like he was holding a set of throwing knives. Fire, lightning, ice, and raw magical force sizzling from each card face-up. If his patron wanted to watch a fight, Husk was ready to give the ultimate magic show.

The door to the bar opened yet again. Vaggie stepped in with a smile and said, “Hey, Husk, I really need--”

Husk groaned. “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me!”