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?"
"We got ale and 'The Special,'" the bartender grunted, polishing a mug with a rag that was arguably filthier than the glass. A Princess, an Elf, and a Demon Walk Into a Bar...
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 As they sat on stools that groaned under
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. The bartender stared
"Exactly," Malphas chuckled. "And we were still ten minutes early for happy hour."
The Princess approached the bar, tapping a manicured finger on the sticky wood. "A glass of your finest vintage," she commanded. "Preferably one that hasn’t been used to clean a boot."