A Princess, An Elf, And A Demon Walk Into A Bar... Direct

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.

"We got ale and 'The Special,'" the bartender grunted, polishing a mug with a rag that was arguably filthier than the glass.

Thandriel looked at his murky ale, then at the Demon. "I am not driving the carriage, Malphas. The last time you 'navigated,' we ended up in the Third Circle of Hell." A Princess, an Elf, and a Demon Walk Into a Bar...

"Exactly," Malphas chuckled. "And we were still ten minutes early for happy hour."

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 The flickering neon sign outside didn’t discriminate, but

Thandriel sighed, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "Typical. My people were distilling starlight while your ancestors were still discovering the wheel. I’ll have a dew-drop nectar, chilled to the temperature of a winter’s morning in the Elder Woods."

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." "I am not driving the carriage, Malphas

The tavern went silent. Even the half-orc bard stopped strumming his lute, his fingers frozen on a minor chord. The Interaction