"Exactly," Malphas chuckled. "And we were still ten minutes early for happy hour."
As they sat on stools that groaned under their collective cosmic weight, Elara looked at her companions. "We are a disgraced royal, an exiled immortal, and a literal manifestation of sin. Why are we here again?" A Princess, an Elf, and a Demon Walk Into a Bar...
First came . She didn’t "walk" so much as glide, her silk skirts trailing over sawdust and spilled ale with an air of profound disappointment. She was followed by Thandriel , an Elf who looked like he’d been carved out of moonlight and condescension. Bringing up the rear was Malphas , a Demon whose presence made the room five degrees hotter and smelled vaguely of sulfur and expensive cigars. "Exactly," Malphas chuckled
The tavern went silent. Even the half-orc bard stopped strumming his lute, his fingers frozen on a minor chord. The Interaction Why are we here again
The flickering neon sign outside didn’t discriminate, but the trio currently standing at the threshold was testing the structural integrity of the "All Realms Welcome" policy.
Malphas took a massive swig of the liquid fire and grinned, showing too many teeth. "Because, Princess... the Dark Lord might be coming for your kingdom, and the Void might be swallowing the Elven forests, but even the apocalypse needs a designated driver."
The bartender stared. Malphas leaned over, his horns narrowly missing a low-hanging chandelier. "Give 'em the rotgut, barkeep. And for me? Whatever you use to strip the paint off those wagons outside. Make it a double." The Punchline