Let's look back at some memorable moments and interesting insights from last year.

Your top 1 posts:

• "Happy Cakeday, r/WayfarersPub! Today you're 5" by u/AutoModerator

Let's look back at some memorable moments and interesting insights from last year.

Your top 10 posts:

• "The Last Call" by u/Blainyrd
• "The End." by u/Blainyrd
• "The Year Without A Nixmas..." by u/Blainyrd
• "[Story] Coming and Going, Bound by Nothing" by u/TheWhiteShadows
• "[Outro] Return to Nature" by u/TheSmiling1
• "For Legal Reasons, this is a Joke" by u/AKA_Sketch
• "Calm Before The Storm" by u/Legendary-Scientist
• "A Granny's Departure [OUTRO]" by u/granny_witch
• "[Quest] Prison Break and Sweet Revenge" by u/David-Tanner
• "Cold and Contemplation" by u/MusicBoxCleric

The demigod was wearing himself thin on magic. His fingers were thoroughly shredded from playing as hard as he could, and the portal was now barely staying open. He had managed to get almost everyone out, minus the few who were insistent on holding the door open for him, and those who didn’t make it to the end. The guitar falls from his arms as he drops to his knees, the last of his magic leaving his body and the pink aura of magic fading around him. He huffs and pants, sweat rolling down his face as he stands up; ushering out the last members of the pub as he struggles to stand. While his son, Dylan, is helping the last few people escape, a hand reaches for him and pulls the demigod to his feet. When he stands, he is met by a woman with long flowing brown hair and bright, emerald-green eyes, who looks at him with concern.

“You. You’ve definitely seen better days.” she says, giving him a half-cocked smile. She pats him on the side, just as an earthquake starts shaking the world beneath their feet. She braces the demigod as the tremor causes him to nearly collapse again. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Well, I ‘ope ya ain’ come all ‘dis way ‘ere to tell me you ‘ad one of my kids, or some’fin along those lines. Cause, if ya didn’ notice…” he mutters, gesturing to the apocalypse occurring around them. She stifled a laugh and sighed, rolling her eyes.

“No, Mr. Ignis. I’m here to warn you about the magic that is behind that portal.” she says, pointing to the volatile entrance and exit for the plane. It sparked and crackled with violent purple energy, each ripple causing a new tear in the plane. “If this portal destroys itself, it will tear into every world it has ever connected to. Then, those worlds will start to collapse like this one. And once it starts, there will be nothing anybody can do to stop it.” she warns, teardrops flowing down her face as the sudden weight of the situation comes down upon her in full force. “So someone will have to stay behind and make sure that the portal closes, unless we want to damn every person that has ever stepped foot on this plane.”

The demigod furrows his brow, pulling a flask from his pocket and chugging it. The pink light in his eyes flickers as he quietly questions the dire warning given to him by this mysterious stranger. “An’ which sorry sod is gonna stick aroun’ to lock the door?” he asks with a huff. His frustration was just for show, but the fear of the inevitable was still clear and present in his voice.

“Because…” the woman began to say, walking up to him and then taking his hand, holding it tightly. “Because only an owner of the pub can shut the portal.” she tells him plainly “And that’s you. You are my last owner. There isn’t anyone else.”

He pauses and blinks. ‘You are MY last owner’. What in the nine hells does that- But before the thought could take full form, another ripple ran through the ground, with a crack in the plane following it. The demigod looked to the sky, which was now painted with purple streaks. The damage from the collapsing portal was starting to really set into the entirety of the plane. He turns to the mysterious woman, swallowing back the nerves that had bundled up into throat.

“‘Ow do I do it?” he asks, finishing off the last of the whiskey in his flask. He zipped his leather jacket up halfway as the wind of the collapsing plane started to pick up, whipping his hair and clothes about.

“Seeing as how you’ve nearly worn yourself out of any remaining magic you have left, it’s going to take everything.” the woman says, picking up his guitar and handing it to him. As she places the instrument in his hands, she makes eye contact with him, giving him a long, hard stare to cement the importance of her next few words.

“Nix. This is not something you will come back from. Once that portal is shut, there is no escape. No getting out. You will die here. It will be just you, me, and the void.” she explains. And once that truth sets in for her, the desperation starts. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Maybe we can find a way to prevent it from happening in other worlds. Quint would know how to fix this, he knows the person who made me this plane. Your mother might be able to help. There are plenty of strong and capable-” she started to rattle off ifs and maybes, not wanting the blood of her last owner on her hands. As she begins to panic, the demigod places a hand on her shoulder and nods. There is a look of understanding in his eyes as he realizes who the woman is and what she is trying to do.

“‘Ey. It’s fine. Owner’s gotta lock up the pub. I knew tha’ when I signed up to work for ya a long time ago.” he reassures. In a few short moments, the demigod had made peace with what he had to do. He squeezes the woman’s shoulder, doing his best to give her the same peace that he was desperately holding onto.

“Jus’ gotta say goodbye an’ make sure tha’ ef’ryone else gets out. Gonna be a tic. I’ll be back, I promise. Jus’ ‘ave some drinks poured on the bar for me, ye?” he tells her, giving a sigh as the weight of what is to come lands upon his shoulders. The woman nods and runs back into the pub, while the demigod runs back to the portal. He quickly hurries out the last few people remaining; Cavalry, Milo, The Necrons, The Lady, Frederick, just to name a few. Some people needed more convincing than others. Some people needed to be physically removed. It was closing time after all. The last person Nix looks to is his son, who smiles nervously at him, gesturing to the portal.

“Come on, old man. Let’s go.” Dylan says, waving his father through the portal. The demigod nodded and took his son’s hand. He holds it tightly and takes a long look into his eyes. He smiles as he sees the failures that he had righted in his life. He sees his time as a father, being able to watch his children grow and become better than he ever had. He sees every ounce of love he was able to share and how he had instilled that love of life into all that he had known. He breathes deeply and pulls his son into a tight embrace, patting him on the back as he enjoys this last moment.

“I love you, son. I’ll be ‘dere when you get ‘ome.” he says as he pulls away, giving Dylan a reassuring smile. Before the rockstar can say anything back to his father, Nix closes his eyes and pushes the rockstar through the portal, which cracks into two as he passes through it. The demigod opens his tear filled eyes as he finds himself alone on the plane, the rest of the pub gone through the portal. He stands in front of the pub, the plane now starting to actively fall apart, mountains collapsing in the distance, chunks of sky being ripped from the atmosphere, being replaced with an inky black void. After taking a moment to let everything sink in, the demigod turned about, walking inside. As he entered the building, there was an eerie silence as the destruction of the world outside was muffled by the wooden walls of the bar. He made his way to the bar and sat on a stool next to the woman with the green eyes and the patchwork clothing. He turns to her and picks up his Iron Ale, taking a sip.

“I… I did good, righ’? I know I wasn’ the bes’ owner of ‘dis place, an… I know tha’ I could ‘ave done a lo’ better, bu’ I… I did my bes’ for ya, yeah?” he asks the woman, placing the guitar in his lap. She nods, taking a long sip of her Crimson Cider.

“You gave it your heart and soul. You put your love into this place, and though sometimes your love is a bit overbearing, you did what you thought was right.” she says. “You were here for the best and worst times. You saw through the awful moments, and you were there to shine through the good ones. And that’s all anyone can really ask for: to have someone there for them during all those moments. Reassuring them, and pushing them forward. Repairing what breaks off, and making sure that you’re still standing to see the next day.” she finishes, placing a hand on his leg, giving him a pat.

The demigod nods, tears rolling down his face again for what felt like the fourth time today. He turns to the Pub and gives her a heartbroken smile. “‘Fanks. I appreciate tha’... It’s a good ‘fing to ‘ear.” he says, swallowing back a cry. He looks out to the pub in front of him, as memories of the pub play out in his head. The good moments, and the bad ones. The Long Night. The Food Monster. The Starlit Ball. Peren’s Winter Ball. Nixmas. He finishes off his drink and nods, shuddering as every memory floods through his mind. The woman squeezes his leg, reminding of what he was here to do as the building begins to rattle, the collapsing plane starting to close around them. He lifts the guitar up and starts to play.

“Well I won’ back down…No I... won’ back down….You can stan’ me up at the nine ‘ells… But I won’ back down…” The demigod starts to strum, his life pouring into the strings as he sings. The wooden walls of the pub started to pull apart as the collapsing plane tore the building apart. Around the bar was pure nothingness and the broken portal. A final sliver of light poured through the portal’s cracks as Nix used the last of his magic to seal it shut. The void closed in around the pair. The woman poured Nix one last drink, and scooted herself closer to him as the light started to fade away. The music echoed into the nothingness. Her body started to disappear as the pub fell apart, her form giving away to the destruction.

“Well I know… what’s righ’... I go’ jus’ one life…. In a worl’ tha’ keeps on pushin’ me aroun’... I’ll stan’ my groun…” he sings out, making sure every note and word is from his heart, the portal coming to a complete close as he shuts it, using the last of his magic, the light fading from his pink colored eyes. He sighs and takes one more breath, playing out the end of the song. The woman, just a torso and head now, smiles at him with tears in her eyes. She cups his cheek, her body slowly disappearing into the ether. The bartender shakily tries to finish up his song as he looks into her eyes, weeping as the floorboards fall from beneath them. As he gets to the last verse, she disintegrates into nothing, leaving the demigod alone to end his song. He can still feel her fingers on his cheek as the last of her ashes scatter to the void, his music echoing in the darkness. He gives his guitar a few more strums, looking into the nothingness as it inches closer, leaving just him and the bar behind him. The darkness slowly starts to crawl up his body, swallowing up his legs, and then the guitar, leaving him with only his voice.

“And I… won’ back down...No I … won’ back…”

The plane collapses before he can finish, the last few vibrations of his voice dying out into the ether as all is gone.

And then, a flash of blinding pink light accompanied by a chord struck on a guitar.

The god had made promises. People he said he would see. Things he said he would do. And a good god always kept his promises. Especially a new one. The bard shot out through the empty plane, traveling into the planes between planes and the worlds unknown, keeping good on those promises that he made. Visiting the troll cook for a picnic, and keeping his long time friend company. Keeping himself out of trouble. Seeing an old wizard for some cookies and tea. And being there when his son got home.

And the pub lived on. Not through the wood and nails that she was built with, but with the people whose lives she touched. She lived on through a guardsman who carried her with him to kindle a spark of hope in a bleak home. Through a towering elf, who would tell stories of the crazy people he had met. Through a once-cursed warrior that found his family. Through all the lives she touched, she lived on. And she would live on forever more in their hearts, and in the hearts of all of those whose lives they would touch.

For the pub was never a place, never a building.

It was the people who occupied it.

The welcoming arms of those who kept her full. The joy and happiness and love that they gave to all of those who would pass through her doors.

It was you, dear reader, who truly was the Wayfarer’s Pub.

As the faux sun rose on the plane, setting the grass alight with it's rays, the owner of the Wayfarer's pub awoke in his bed. He stretched as he grabbed a comb and straightened his hair, threw on his jeans, boots, random band t-shirt and leather jacket. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail, and exited his room in the basement and slowly walked up the wooden stairs, their familiar creak sounding off with each step. As Nix wiped the sleep from his eyes to see what would greet him this morning, he found that the Wayfarer's was still standing, despite her random mismatch of wooden repairs and fixes. If Theseus had a bar instead of a boat, this would certainly be it. The demigod smiled and nodded, content with what he saw, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a set of keys, unlocking the front door to the pub. However, as he opened the large wooden doors to the outside, Nix was not met with a beautiful sunrise, but instead the image of a cracking world. The sky was asunder with tears, the fabric of the plane falling apart like a worn piece of clothing whose stitching had unraveled . And as he stared in horror, a tremor rocked the ground beneath his feat, the tears in the sky growing, and new tears starting to appear on the ground. Trees in the surrounding forest toppled, and ripples ran across the nearby mountain range, causing them to fall apart as if their foundations had suddenly turned to sand. The bard's heart leaped into his throat as he rushed to the portal, the one certain escape route for the pub and her people. The magic portal was still standing, but the sides of it had begun to fizzle, the magic keeping it here becoming unstable.

The plane was falling apart. And if they weren't quick enough, the people of the Wayfarer's pub would fall with it. The bard quickly rushed inside, utilizing a spell to amplify his voice. He shuddered, then spoke.

"Patrons of the Wayfarers Pub, this is the las' call. Ya don' 'ave to go 'ome but ya can't stay 'ere."

Pierce stands, half crouched, on the obsidian floor, both arms completely free. He breathes slowly, deeply, pushing air into his cheeks and out puckered lips. His heart beats hard against his chest in anticipation.

Masked eyes locked on the large, dimly glowing diamond floating above the altar before him, he shouts over his shoulder, “Everyone in position?”

“Jawohl,” comes Fredrick’s reply. Pierce had seen the soldier take a place right near the outer wall – more of a guardrail – of this floor, underneath the unsupported stairs that he’d detonated earlier, and could imagine his legs slightly bent, power stored, ready to jump.

“Yup. Go for it,” David says. The teen is just on Pierce’s peripheral, armor glowing at the joints. His grin is wicked, eyes wide, staring at him.

“You know… you don’t have to be here any more. You could be on the ground,” Pierce replies.

“Ha! And miss this? This is the coolest shit I’ll ever see.”

A grin makes its way across Pierce’s face, reminiscent of that upon the face of the young mad genius. “Sure. Off I go, then.”

Pierce makes a dash for the diamond, then dives into it, knocking it from its place. The world tumbles as he rolls on the hard floor, then leaps smoothly into a sprint for the wall, clutching his new prize to his chest.

He hears a low whistling, a rush of air getting louder, from high above him. He hasn’t the time to look, but he knows exactly what he’d see if he did: The remaining two stone floors of the tower, snapping shut on him like the jaws of the dragon they’d killed on its roof.

The warlock’s feet pound on the obsidian below him, the runes and formulas along its surface fading before him. Right before he dives over the guardwall, he sees the top of the tower at the upper edge of his vision.

Stone teeth nip at Pierce’s toes.

He feels one thunderous wave fly through his body as the jaws snap shut, turning itself to dust. He spins around just in time to see the cause of the second. The charges Fred had set previously explode in the middle of the tower’s collapse, rending structure that might have supported what would have remained to dust. The sheer force of the shockwave alters Pierce’s trajectory, turning a steep drop into a shallow dive. As stones and debris whiz past his ears, he quickly reaches into his pocket and extracts a feather-emblazoned coin, flipping it in the air. Pierce’s descent quickly decelerates, magic keeping him from hitting anywhere near terminal velocity.

Instinctively, Pierce adjusts himself to put his legs straight toward the ground, but then realizes that his coin has only slowed his vertical velocity, not his horizontal created by the blast. Oh. This will hurt. He thinks, Then, he tumbles along the sand, rolling end-over-end before finally coming to rest lying face-up, clothing and skin scraped, but diamond unscathed.

As his ears ring, he becomes aware of David swooping into view, jets on his armor’s boots holding him aloft before landing beside the Warlock. The boy holds out a hand. As Pierce takes it, pulling himself to his feet, a glow washes over him, and the ringing stops.

Fredrick joins the small crew, trudging feet leaving footprints in the sand. “WE ALL GOOD?” He shouts.

Pierce gives him finger guns as the same warmth that passed over him fires from his hands and shoots into the soldier, who shakes his head. “Yes, I believe we are.”

“Good,” David says as he grins, looking thankfully at the group waiting for them in the dead forest not too far away. “Let’s get home.”

David and Leland are reunited at the Pub. It is a wholesome sight, with the boy throwing his arms around his brother with a sobbing “missed you”. Thanks are granted, embraces exchanged, but David is very quick to retire his brother – who looks very uncomfortable with the crowd of friendly faces – up to their room.

Days pass. Leland is found wearing a new pair of black jeans and a different red shirt every day. David eases him into a new routine, the pair eating meals at the same times each day, at the same table each day, a far cry from the sporadic timing and placement David had had while searching, working, and preparing. Daniel occasionally joined them, but Jacob stayed away, trying to keep his eyes from them.

Today, Leland wears a bright red T-shirt with dragons on bicycles chasing a man in a yellow shirt on a bike, ‘Tour de France’ emblazoned in Common on the breast. The boy is drawing quickly in a notebook. David’s messenger bag is sitting beside the table alongside a wooden chest, and Daniel is sitting with the pair.

This is David’s outro. Feel free to interject at any point in this post’s timeline, but I’d highly recommend jumping into the end, or at least getting to it quickly in your thread so as to allow for the conclusion to take place. Thank you all so much for letting me explore this character and simple story here; David may return in the new setting we create, but with a vastly different role and abilities. For now, he has to get his brother home.

Splendora had been feeling very... stale lately. Things at the pub hung in the air the same way they did when you were between parts of your life. And she'd know! She'd had many parts of her life! One day, she woke up and just... knew. She knew it was time to go back home. And she began to get ready. She could have left quietly with a note on the bar, she hated goodbyes after all, but felt that her friends needed, even deserved, more.

She brought out all of her finished projects: sweaters and blankets and scarves, among other things, that she intended as gifts for whenever the mood struck her and began wrapping them. Tibus and Dinah began placing her things within her extradimensional storage units. "Leave some room in the hole for the loaves, dears. I've grown rather fond of the spirits of that oven and I'm sure they'll appreciate the company back home." The day was spent packing and wrapping and preparing.

The next day, she went out for some shopping. Nothing big, but rather important. When she returned, she made her way to the kitchen and explained to the loaves the plan, which they went along with. Trading one, new, magic oven for the old, she folds up her portable hole and steps out to the pub proper. No one would know, but she blew all of the gold she had stored up in her time here on the oven and a set of expensive cards.

With her pets at her side and the gifts on the bar behind her, she makes her announcement. "Dears, if I may. While my time here has been nothing but a joy, I feel it is time for me to go." Her face is flushing at this point and she's begun fiddling with some cards. "This has been the most delightful chapter of my life, but regrettably pages turn and chapters end. And while that doesn't mean that my story won't cross any of you again, as many stories revisit old places and friends, right now my story is taking me elsewhere." Her green eyes have started to glisten and her voice is shaking. ^("Oh blast it, I hate goodbyes.")

"As I wouldn't be me without it, I am leaving you all something to remember me by, so please, if you can, come up and accept it. If not, it shall be left to you once I'm gone. And if you can't bring yourself to say goodbye, well, that's not what this is. It's a see you soon." And there her speech ends. She turns around and wipes the rogue tear that fell and begins fiddling with the gifts.

(Come and interact for a wrap up with Splendora. I'll edit the post once goodbyes and threads here are resolved with her to reflect it.)

A strange metal device sits under the portal, inert. Its creation seems haphazard, and judging by the scars in the earth below, it is quite heavy and was nudged - or drug - into place. Two spikes, thicker at the base and tapering in towards the tips, stick out its side at 45-degree angles. They are coiled in copper wire, and have great brass orbs capping where the point would be. Attempts have been made by some enterprising fools to take this device, but getting too close seems to awaken the portal, leaving the device unaffected, but disallowing access by simply sending the attempted thieves somewhere else when they tried to touch the device underneath.

Lights on the device start flashing, and lightning arcs up the two spikes, once, twice, three times, and the portal flares a brilliant blue, opening to reveal a dead, burned forest. Two teens dive through, familiar to some as David, the inventing prodigy, and Daniel, his close friend and confidant. Just as they land, the device seems to die, and the portal returns to its normal green hue, shrinking back down to the odd sphere it normally occupies.

Daniel looks back at the portal. “...What… would have happened if we had been in the portal when your thing kicked off?”

David stands, brushing himself off. His normal studded leather armor is covered in wires, motors, and other junk-tech. “Don’t know. Didn’t want to think about it. What the fuck?”

“I know, right?!” Daniel snaps out of his horrified existential reverie, returning to a state of… just horror, as he rolls onto his back and sits up.

“I’ve gotta get him out of there.”

“No. No no no. You need to chill. If you go in there again, he’s dead. You’re far too loud.”

David stands in silence, eyes bowed toward the ground.

“I’m not saying leave him. I’m saying we make an actual plan. Find people you trust, that can be quiet, maybe some that have experience pulling a breakout like this. Ha. This crazy place, you’ll probably actually be able to find someone that’s done this exact thing.”

David continues to stand in silence, but after a moment of consideration, nods. “We get together. Plan. I gear people up.”

“Good call.”

David sucks in a breath, holds it for a moment, then pushes it out. “You’re leading that. He needs a familiar face.”

“Done.”

One Month Later

David stalks into the pub proper carrying a piece of paper, a mallet, and a large nail. He beelines it straight to the quest board, itself covered in tattered and worn calls for aid long-since given, smacks his page onto the board, slams the nail straight through, and walks out of the building without a word. The page reads as follows:

Prison Break. Find me in the workshop.

– David Z. Tanner

Jacob looks up from the table he’s wiping down, toward the page, easily reading the humongous text. He looks down at the table, sighs, and rushes out the door, jogging after the tinkerer.

David turns toward the rhythmic crunching of snow behind him and immediately scowls. “What do you want?”

“This the guy that took your brother?”

“...Yes.”

“I want in.”

David scoffs. “No. Just… no.”

“I know I’m not your first choice, but I don’t even want to come near the kid. I… I’m a bit new to the ‘good person’ thing, and I figured the best place for me to help is the way I know.

“I wanna kill the guy that took your brother from you.”

Realization and surprise sparks in David’s eyes. “I… Think I’d like that. Yeah.”

The two pause in awkward silence.

“I think I’ll go back to bussing tables now?”

“Yeah. Got stuff to do. Meet me after you’re done.”

David sits in the workshop, cranking down on a bolt on a piece of heavily layered blue plate armor. Wires stream off of it, hanging down off its stand; some have green circuit boards dangling on them, their LEDs blinking in time with some communication between them.

As you walk in, David doesn’t look up, but says, “Thanks for coming. Grab a packet there. Gives you what we know. It’s not much, but it’s something. Current plan is rather bare-bones; one crew to distract and kill the bastard that stole my brother, the other to head down and extract him. Got any ideas, or equipment you’d like? I’ve been busy.” He gestures toward a pile of junk–valuable and otherwise–that sits behind him. “Creative requests and concepts bear more fruit, but I’ll take boring shit too.”

(Obviously, RP away. Not so obviously, if you have a piece of equipment you want to have on the trip, a magic item you’ve always wanted but never had the time/energy to search out or create, or an improvement you want to a piece of gear, let him know, and he’ll make it. If it’s homebrew crap, I’ll come up with something I see as balanced, but if it’s published, even legendary items are on the table [just not Artifacts]. David only has time for one item per person.)

In a certain room in the Pub...

Zhex paced back and forth. The incessant clucking and cries of dozens of chickens were the only soundtrack to his musings. He'd received a rather distressing notice, you see. Hung from his door handle, even. The door handle to the room he was staying in. The room that wasn't his in the first place.

Covered in squiggly lines that should have hurt his eyes to look at (had he been a normal human, he was sure his eyes would have animated and ripped from his skull like a pair of tap-dancing horror puppets), the notice, printed on a short piece of... plywood, maybe? ...read thusly:

If you're gone a single day longer, I'm making you mortal again. Get your ass back home. We've got work to do. --The Devourer

Never before had he felt such trepidation. Never before had he felt such a burning need to be somewhere as soon as humanly possible. Hence, his musings. Musings on how to get all his stuff to the portal as fast as possible. A little hitch in the plan, however: Gully's 50 chickens. He wasn't sure how he was gonna handle 50 chickens running around all willy-nilly. He'd have just stuck them in a bag of holding and been done with it, but chickens are living beings, and living beings need this silly little thing called 'air.'

He sighed to himself and started packing the suitcase he pulled out from under the bag. True, he's had to spend the afternoon pulling random objects from his pockets to even summon the damn thing, but he was happy with its seeming storage capacity. Extra clothes, random bips and bops he found around the room that he figured he could get away with stealing taking home, anything he could fit, he smushed and stacked into the quaint little box with wheels.

When that was done, he carefully exited the room, making sure no chickens got out, and made a mad dash down to the portal out front, setting down his bag.

Two figures appeared at the same time, one through the portal and one descending down from above: a mad, fluffy kenku and his... girlfriend(?) of a chaos tiefling. Before the tiefling could even greet him, Gully walked over to him and gave a big huff.

"Gully says, Gully wants her chicken and Gully doesn't like big scary creature ha-ra-har-ass-" she stumbled with her words as she couldn't control her anger as well, "Ha-ha-" insert Gully scream "Zhex come now! Gully says now! Or else creature will eat everything up!! Gobble Gobble, all because of you!"

Her big blue eyes stared him down as she readied a monk punch, with Tara shrugging off to the side. "You should probably get going. I'll follow in kind in a moment.

Taking in the scene with an owlish blink, Zhex gave a little jaunty salute to the huffing mad kenku and the beautiful, evil tiefling he'd come to care for. "Back in a second, loves!" he stated in a faux-English accent. He made a mad dash back into the Pub proper, tearing his way up the stairs three at a time, and down the hall to the room. Checking each door on the way to make sure they were closed, and... he threw open the door to the room, startling the suddenly-cacophonous horde of poultry. Like a kicked anthill, they streamed out of the room in a solid blur of white and brown, clucking like the world was ending. To the front door he herded them, out into the waiting arms and alarmed expression of the kenku and the tiefly, respectively.

"Okay! Time to go!" he cried with urgency. He tossed a card to Tara, embossed with the same writing as the notice had been, which would allow her to follow him to his destination, plus granting her protection from the Realm of The Devourer. Handy thing, that. Almost like a plot dev- "NOPE!" he yelled, cutting off the narrative description rudely, and he hopped through the portal, his bags and suitcase in tow.

Nobody was concerned. He wasn't really sure how long he'd been gone. Would this 'portal' thing return him back in time to grab a gallon of milk for Anna? Preferably, before she decided to send a search party for him. He glanced over at the spirit of Man that was surely reading his thoughts, Slim, but the faceless horror creature stared him down instead, before shrugging in nonchalance. 'Fuck if I know,' he seemed to be indicating.

With a heavy sigh and a grunt of effort, the masked runner began removing the reinforcements from the door frame and door itself, then from the walls of the room and even the bed. ('One can never be too careful' was basically his life philosophy.) With practiced movements indicative of a lifetime of fortification and breaking down fortified positions in the aftermath of good jobs, Nobody quickly disassembled his protective materials, stuffing them into a duffel bag at his feet.

When he finished, the holes in the walls from where he'd bolted them in place glared back at him like little angry eyes. He sighed again. He'd leave some of the 'gold' he'd 'acquired' from this 'realm' to fix the holes, and hope that'd be enough. He had to get 'camp' 'broken down' in short order, and didn't have time to deal with trying to fix the plaster...? drywall? ...the stuff on the walls.

Stepping into the hallway, loaded down with enough gear to fortify any room and enough firepower to start a small war, he walked carefully down the short flight of stairs, greeted the tiny spirit of air next to them, and stumped his way outside, to the 'exit portal.'

A comlink message appeared as he found himself inching close to his way home.

Message From: D.r.a.g.n.a.x.

Oiy, you're not going to say anything before leaving? A snicker emoji face greeted him within the message. Well, anyways, I finally got connection from back home and it seems like there is trouble again with the new rise of Halloweeners. There's a delay in these messages, but they seem to line up with our departure from the place...more or less. Wanna meet up when I get back and see who's up for the task?

Plus, your lady thinks you're with me talking about something important and is rather impatient.~ Another emoji appeared, a playful 'tsk tsk' type of motion with a smile.

*As it displayed, a mage hand fluttered from behind him and gently sets the bard's 'Dummy's Guide To Magic' book with a page marked off, Blood Magic and the ties to Demons.

I won't be long.

Grinning, he sent off his own message. My bad. I'll see you on the other side. -⨂ With that, he disappeared through the portal, his spirit companion hitching a ride in his body.

Syvra sighed as he looked around his room. Sunlight shining in through a window on his desk, where he'd written a very particular letter.

A letter of resignation.

He'd realized it only a day or so before: he wasn't really that happy here. Oh, sure, he enjoyed the company of Ms. Dragnax, and occasionally interacting with the plushies, or even Zhex, and wasn't that a surprising realization? He'd all but made friends with the man he'd sworn to defeat, so long ago. Nowadays, certainly, the blue-haired chaos mage was significantly more mellow and relaxed, but it was the principle of the thing.*

He sighed again, and looked around his slightly bigger than normal room, the pillow pit and the massage board. Even with those people here, he still hadn't made it big like he'd hoped. The sthein could count the number of regular clients he had on one hand, and even those were infrequent enough to only barely earn the title of 'regulars.' He needed a change. Of scenery? He pondered where to go. Perhaps Ms. Dragnax would be willing to recommend somewhere for him to go?

He got up from his lounging couch and slithered to the door, bringing along his letter. More slowly than normal did he make his way to the office, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents of the Pub in what would likely be one of the final jaunts through it. Ah, here there was a dent in the wall where someone had fallen while roughhousing, there was a nick in the wood where someone had been saved by an invading zombie. All around him, little reminders of the past sprang into his view. A drink shared among friends. A meal shared among comrades. A good time shared by all.

He reached the office faster than he thought. The door stood imposingly, though he knew that with a twist of a key, after knocking, he'd be able to enter unimpeded. He gulped subconsciously, and reached a weak hand to the door.

Knock. Knock.

The door was swung open as he shivered in fear. He was met with Dragnax looking rather tired and in a hurry.

"Oh! Oh, Syvra! I was going to come by and--" she looked down at his hand with a letter in it. "Is....hmm, this fate thing is rather striking in a way."

She grabbed his hands and pulled him in close with her lips gently caressing his ear. She began to whisper, telling him of some plans and foresight she had had. Little did he know, whatever driving force he had to make his move, she had also felt the same push.

"..So yes, if you're interested, I can contact my associates and work out a deal for you and and!" with a snap of a finger, she called a mage hand with a hefty bag over and traded with the sthein, "..Payment....Your work has meant a lot and, between you and me, this gold will get you places that even this pub can't provide--" A rolled up scroll from inside the office hit the back of the runner's head. A twinge of annoyance could be read with her eyes, yet she held her smile.

"Just think it over and if you're with me on this, I have some of my underlings leaving today as they prep some stuffs back at home. They'll lead you to where I live and will be good company til I get there." A small peck on the cheek and she made her way past him and down the hallway with a wave. Always on her feet as usual.

He left the room in a bit of a daze. 20,000 gold was a lot of money! Added to that, the idea of setting up his parlor near Dragnax's place of residence? It was like a dream come true. Sure, he knew not what 'futuristic' meant, nor what kind of technology he'd have to learn to use, nor even if he'd be safe in that world, but the edge of danger was also exciting. Something bold, something new.

He returned to his room, and pulled out his bags of holding to begin packing away his things. Oh, it would be a grand adventure, for sure! 'Runners' and 'police' and 'megacorporations' abound! He would have to lean on his friend fairly heavily in the beginning, until he both remembered how to take his bipedal form again (it'd been so long since he had legs!) and he learned how to exist in Dragnax's world without drawing too much negative attention. He glanced at his rapier hanging on the wall. It'd serve him well in the coming months, he was sure, and if he got into serious trouble? He could... send a message? Something like that. 'Send a message' to Dragnax, or her taciturn compatriot, that man calling himself Nobody. Oh, the friendships he could make, just as soon as he found somewhere to set up shop!

In only an hour, he'd all but packed up his room. Bags of holding made for excellent mover's storage, indeed. Pillows packed and oils, creams, and lotions neatly stored in hard cases. Massage table folded up and slipped onto his back as like a backpack. All that left was the leftover pit where he'd slept so often....

He cleared his throat and looked around. "Um..." he began hesitantly. "Excuse me? S-spirit of the Wayfarer's Pub?" He'd seen the gloves on at least one occasion, cleaning a plate in the kitchen when he'd entered, though they had quickly vanished into thin air when he actually laid eyes on them. "I'm leaving soon. Should I do anything about the room?" He waited for a response.

A small pair of dirtied gloves appear next to him as it hovers with a sketch pad and pencil at the ready. If it had a body the bow it presents would be more noticeable, yet the gesture is still there of a greeting. It survey's the room looking up and down, left and right. It's taking in the sight, really noting how well kept it is to many others it has seen.

It writes something on the pad, "Nothing to do. Please take this."

It rips off the piece of paper and hands it to Syvra to read as it quickly sketches the room, handing that piece over as well.

"A parting gift. All rooms will return back to their original status. Hope your next adventure is fruitful and fun." it scribbles down as it jolts to a sound of a man frantically packing a few doors down.

He bowed as it left, thankful for the gift. With that, and all of his things packed up and ready to go...

He left. Out the door, down the stairs (carefully!) and out the front door... and to the portal to his new home. He concentrated on Ms. Dragnax and her home world, watching the image in the portal spin up into the desired destination, and.. slithered on through.

Two clothkins sit at the bar, one pink as love can be and the other a soft blue. Both resembling some sort of kobold-shape in plush while sporting such killer fashion: one naked and the other in a wizard robe. The pink one, Pellip, looks to Timmy, the small one, and ask, "Would you believe that I got lost trying to come back here to retrieve some milk for the boss lady?"

Timmy tilts his head to one side, "Depends, how long were you gone?"

The plush takes a moment to think, rubbing his nub hand against his chin. "About 2 years and some change."

Timmy shakes his head, "No, and anyways..." He motions up to the counter where the already-way-out-of-exp-date-and-passed-the-point-of-mold of a milk bottle sits, rattling every few seconds as if it will burst with the wrong touch. "...Wee should better figure out how to get rid of this, or else we're going to be in big trouble."

Pellip shrugs, picking up the bottle carefully and holding it above his head. "How much gold you wanna bet it has turned into a powerful magical item or something?"

TImmy shakes his head as he flops off the chair with his trusty wiener dog to catch him in a snap. "How about we go back home and worry about it when we meet up with everyone?"

With that, the two clothkins left in the Wayfarer's Pub take their leave to go back to the comfort of their Clothkin realm....with a long-aged bottle of milk.

--

((RIP bottle of milk. Hope to use it for something silly one day in the future.))

It happened over time.

The veteran pub goer quietly mentioned to her friends that her appearance would be sporadic. Sometimes she would be there, sometimes she wouldn’t. She’d leave a note, at least. Or informed them in some manner before going. And then she was gone. Not a trace of her leaving. Not even through the portal at the front of the establishment.

Eventually, she would return. Be it a few weeks, or just a handful of days. At first, it was wandering from the forest nearby in various states of disarray. From looking just a touch tired, to bleeding profusely. Though, every time she never seemed the least bit bothered by any state of her being.

Soon enough, she’d end up returning by walking out of her room. The announcement of her arrival was the muted sound of a chain snapping somewhere in the distance.

In this instance though, she calmly returned.

Cavalry was clad in a long sleeved shirt, not a hint of a weapon or armor on her person aside from that cog wheel that never left her hip. Her white hair was let down, flowing past her shoulders as she glided towards the bar like that of a wraith.

There was something different about her, that much was for certain. Typically she would walk about as if some pressing matter was constantly at the forefront of her mind. And in the previous returns, she was downright anxiety ridden and nigh unapproachable.

But now it was as if her head was in the clouds. Free of whatever burdened her mind. Glimpses of her face did show fresh scars, gnarly ones at that. But her visage was only that of ease.

She took a deep inhale, slid into a seat at the bar, and ordered nothing special: just a rum.

A sigh left her as glowing eyes rested on the glass, chin resting in her palm. She swirled it, dropped the entirety of it in one shot down the gullet and ordered another.

The kraken ink is handed over to Minroe, who takes it with a little jig of delight. The crystals should be ready in about three weeks for someone to pick up and reinstall, though she does warn that they may still be a little fragile at that stage, so they need to be careful. Everyone in the party alive and well, they commission their items to be crafted, and return home to the Pub.

Return home to the pub is not in the form of long traveled roads or ferries, but on a large violet portal ripping open in front of the establishment. The party of five: Pierce, Cinder, Octavius, Splendora, and Maree amble out.

The tiefling of the party entered the building with a heavy sigh. "... I really hate b-boats," she grumbled, rolling her shoulders.

The portal opens with a rush of cold air, and a Warforged steps out of it into the yard in front of the Pub. They freeze, looking around, before humming slightly under their breath, and speaking in a somewhat flat, androgynous voice.

"Decidedly none of my various forms of training prepared me for this. Extrapolation Protocol activated."

There's another brief hum.

"Extrapolation Protocol failed. Ilyana, do you have any thoughts?"

A cheery female voice speaks from the Warforged's space.

"I don't think, Boss. That's your job!" A brief pause. "But if you're asking if I know where we are, my data banks have no knowledge of a place like this one. Perhaps another plane of existence?"

They hum, and the original voice replies.

"I am going in. Have Technoviral Overload Protocol on standby."

A cheery reply: "You got it, Boss!"

"Stop calling me that."

With that, they step with purpose towards the Pub.

Jannes sits outside the pub on a cold winter morning, unbothered by the bitter chill as usual. His breath barely clouds the air, skin still pale instead of flushed where it isn't scarred.

To say it had been a strange year would be an understatement. He'd died and come back to life - again. He was stronger than any human could physically be, thanks to the magic of his belt. He knew more about devils and demons, fey and undead, than he ever thought he could know. He had a blade of pure light, and the knowledge how to use it. It was like something from the stories he had grown up hearing.

He had a family, too, now. A mother and a father, and a sister. Mentors who looked after him and protected him. He had a roof over his head, warm food every night, and all the comforts he could want.

The one thing he didn't have was the ability to enjoy it.

Jannes looks down at his hands, holding Keith's note and his music box. It cracks open and begins to softly play, the same short melody that it was built with. The one that he'd listened to over and over at night, grasping for some sort of comfort while She whispered in his ear. But now, it was like trying to reach when he didn't have arms.

A tiny frown crosses his face, and he closes the music box again. Vatti said he'd be back when he was ready, and he'd get his and Una's souls back. In the meantime, he had to stay alive and learn more. But for now, it was nice to just...sit, and be quiet. Jannes looks up to the grey sky, watching the clouds.

The reclusive, Green Dragonborn, Ghesh Raghthroknaar, had came to this place through no means of his own, and has been biding his time, searching for a way back. Late in a very cold evening, Ghesh's heavily garbed right arm began to emit some sort of smoke that wafted towards the Pub's front door. The dragonborn stood and briskly followed it outside. At the forest's edge, an arch of plant life, mostly vines, mushrooms, and other fungi, had formed and a green glow swirled in the archway. Ghesh grinned and walked on through without much thought of staying. Shortly after, the glow ceased and the vines receded back into the earth. Only the footprints in the snow bear any evidence to his departure.

Aesier and Trâv sit at one of the tables in the Pub, enjoying a meal together.

“... so I says to ‘im, ‘you can’t call it training if we’re always the same when we leave.’”

“Precisely!”

“I know! Quite proud of the wording myself! Thought you’d like the sentiment.”

“Yes, I do. In fact…” Aesier looks around the bar.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to make a wager with you.”

“Do tell!”

“Best lasting mark at the end of the week.”

“Love it. Has to be from a person.”

“You can’t ask them for it.”

“Or tell them about the bet.”

A particular person; we each choose for the other.”

“Five gold each.”

“Make it ten.”

“Done!”

The two’s heads have been getting closer and closer as they were setting up the deal, but as they shake one time vigorously, they lean back in their chairs.

“So,” Aesier says. “Who’re the targets?”

“You first,” Trâv replies.

“Fine.” Aesier looks around the room. Cavalry? No; too difficult to irk, and if done so, too likely to shoot. He wants his friend scarred, not dead. Splendora? No… how could he do that to her? Then, his eyes fall on the bartender. His mouth splits open, revealing teeth.

I’m sorry, friend. This might be a tough week for you.

He points at Pierce. “That one. Tough to get a true reaction out of, but possible, and will leave a nice mark if you get it out of him. Who’s my mark?”

Trâv wastes no time. “That one.”

The wiry gnome points at a young man with olive skin and black hair in full plate with a holy symbol on his chest. Aesier’s face pales.

“That’s a Paladin! You want me to die?!”

“Nope. And you won’t. Been watching him. Have fun!”

With that, Trâv sets off outside, passing right by Pierce without so much of a glance.

Aesier watched his mark for the whole day and one other, just to get a sense of him. The young man ordered the same food without fail, just asking for ‘the usual’: the breakfast platter, then a sandwich, then a steak. In-between meals, he’d hop off to do… something. How much of a routine could he have? And how much could he stand?

With that, sheer curiosity driving him more than the pride of winning the bet, Aesier began his gambit. He stepped onto the stage and began playing a song on his dulcimer. It was one he knew well, he’d been listening to it since he’d arrived, the song of this plane. Or, rather, a rendition of it. With some tweaks, the bittersweet melodies had some melancholy harmonies and chords to it, each musical thread meandering about the others in a pattern that—hopefully—would be hard to trace and wouldn’t be noticed for a good long while; the pattern even relents into a major key for a time, like a whole new song, before dipping back into the main loop. Yes, this would certainly enchant, then irk, any normal person. But how long would a creature of habit last?

(Continued from #arena-5.)

A fluffy-haired human exits from the arena and into the pub’s main room. He bears a lab coat and tan slacks, and his shirt is a bit torn- like it was stretched too far. He rubs his head with a chiseled arm, before peering closer- his bloodied wounds were healed, and they weren’t even scarred- it was like they never existed.

Confused, he presses further on into the main room, unaware if he is dreaming- or if he’s even out of his rage in the real world.

Evander decided to take off for the day to the orphanage, leaving all of the pets? The bunch found it odd as Evander always took at least one of them with him, but he mentioned someone named 'Business' that he was taking care of and to stick together while he was gone. Whoever this Business was, they hoped Kass knew about them, but that faded from their mind when Nyssa flew down from her spot with a small bag and her mischievous grin.

"Don't worry about it!" Nyssa responds to some hoots from Calder. "It's some of my treasure."

R "Your treasure, or 'Vander's treasure?"

N "My treasure! I found it!"

T ^("In 'Vander's bag.")

After some back and forth among the group, they eventually set off, all together, to explore the Pub and grounds.

Coming into the kitchen, it seems like Miss Splendora left her awakened loaves in the form of terrifying^(ly cute) dragonloaves, and the three were sat guarding her case. Deciding they would starve if they didn't plunder the snacks that were usually left for them to grab, they formulate an elaborate plan to retrieve the food, Nyssa providing [visuals](link to add).

After deliberation, chittering, hooting, and dissent about being bait, the bunch fling into action, and what a sight. there's webbing being strung and critters being tied, and the whole prep is in full view by these loaves that look on amused. After a few minutes, the plan is executed, Tret and Reaux "distracting" the loaves while Dinah propels down from the rafters carried by Nyssa in a rope made by Sebastian. Once the snacks are obtained, the rodents are swooped up by Calder and the group makes their escape. All to the amusement of the loaves and anyone watching.

After the Great Snack Heist, the bunch find themselves out in the gardens. Darting into a hedge, they walk a bit before stopping to snack as a few of the animated turnips dash by. A few minutes of eating go by before they begin moving again, staying within the hedging, and watching all manner of bugs and tiny garden animals go about their lives, the occasional turnip darting through.

Eventually they come to a Shiny Object^(TM) half buried in the dirt. Nyssa, the shiny object enthusiast of the group, immediately goes to dig it out, the others aiding until Calder lifts it out of the dirt.

T "What is it?"

D "It looks like a gravy boat." This remark gaining some chitters from Sebastian.

R "No! I've seen this before in a book 'Vander read once! It's a genie lamp!" This of course draws a number of questions. "The story said you have ta rub it and it will come out and grant you wishes."

D "I wish for some sushi"

T "I wish I could visit the orphanage."

After some hoots, Nyssa chimes in, "well I found it so I get to rub it and make a wish first!" And, gently setting down the pouch she's clutched thus far, she wraps her tail around the handle and rubs a claw on the side.

Immediately, smoke begins pouring out from the end, Reaux calming the initial freak out, "This is supposed to happen. The smoke will clear and the genie will be there!" But after a few moments, the smoke now fills the area. Onlookers definitely notice the cloud originating from the hedge, and if they didn't hear the conversation before it appeared, they definitely hear the bickering now.

After what feels like an eternity of smoke and arguing, but was just a few minutes, Nyssa finally shouts over her adopted siblings. "I wish this smoke would stop!" and the lamp does, the smoke floating away within minutes. In the commotion, the little dragon didn't even notice that the pouch containing 200 gp vanished, but she was now distracted by a shiny object, and a guess at how to get it to work.

As the patrons gather to bid farewell to the old year, Evander and his pets get an idea for something to do. They dash outside and set up a few barrels and pallets before Evander comes back in and announces to the patrons that there's to be a show outside.

As the patrons step out, they're greeted with barrel-tables with lit candles, a few dancing light orbs, and a pallet mini stage at the center of the arrangement. Not the most elaborate of set ups, but definitely a warm feeling.

Once the time counts down, Evander and his menagerie step to the stage with minutes to spare. "Friends and Wayfarers. What's there to say? This has been a helluva year." He looks to a pocket watch in his hand and when he looks back up, his eyes glow as a breeze blows out the candles and the dancing lights disappear. "To stiffer drinks and brighter days, and even a few sleepless nights in the coming year!" He glances back at his timepiece before looking back up with a smile. "Happy New Year!"

On that, he shoots his hand up to the sky causing six motes of light to shoot up and burst into fireworks above the assembled crowd. Nyssa and Cal swoop around him and follow the motes, crossing each other and flying around before the stars explode.

The door to the workshop flies off its hinges. It cartwheels across the lawn, spraying snow with every crashing impact. And before it settles, an elf of unusual size dashes out. Magnificent silver-steel armour catches winter sunlight. Every engraving, every tiny relief glints apace with grinning eyes, as the elf leaps and twirls, pumping triumphant in the air. Greave-clad feet carve trails in fresh snow.

"It's done!" The cry rings across the lawn. "Six fuckin' months! It's done!"

Aluthol stops his dance, blinking against the sun. "Bloody hell." He rubs his face. "Ah, don't matter. Look at me!" He throws his arms wide. "I'm so fuckin' good at this!"

The portal outside of the pub flares up with energy, before a pale, bare foot steps out onto the grass. Slowly, quietly, without so much as a word, a familiar pale figure with markings all over his body enters the pub and, without looking directly at anyone, walks right on over to the main bar area to see if he can order a taco.

After receiving the very thoughtful present from Saint Nick for her daughter, the Raven Queen appeared sometime later in the Pub, taking a seat by the fireplace as her little lady La'dranil sat in her lap, continuously giggling the whole time as the Queen just stared off into the distance, looking rather content with her lot in life.

But the little girl had a surprise for Sil'morian this morning. She'd taken to baby babbling over the past couple of months, attempting to wrap her little mind and brain around the language of the fey, and hadn't yet produced her first word. Which is why Sylrona was somewhat surprised, and yet wasn't surprised at all, when she heard La'dranil say, "Papa."

"Papa, darling?" Sylrona said with a chuckle. "Why not mama? But I'm sure your father will be so happy to hear his princess has chosen to honor him with her first word."

La'dranil giggled. "Papa, papa, papa, papapapapapapa," she babbled, before devoting her efforts to the unceasing giggling once more.

Well, she had to hand it to To'dranil, Sylrona thought. A full year of carrying her, not to mention the very complicated process it took to birth a child from an archfey to begin with without the child dying, and yet La'dranil had clearly taken a preference to her paternal namesake. Not that she minded, after all. She'd simply wanted to name her daughter after the most beautiful being in creation, in hopes she would take after his splendor. "Mission accomplished," Sylrona said to herself with a smirk, before turning her attention to her daughter's polar bear, which sat politely in the chair next to her own. The Raven Queen took the toy, putting it into her daughter's hands. "Play with your bear, Lala. The nice man gave it to you, you might as well play... With..."

She found herself yawning as La'dranil shook the plush toy, and a few seconds later, the princess yawned, too. Two pairs of eyes--one that were a striking violet, and the other an everglowing silver--fluttered their lashes like wings in the breeze, before finally closing... And snoozing.

Certainly, in her home, she was the picture of intimidating beauty, the definition of dark fey majesty. But right now, the Raven Queen was simply a mother enjoying a catnap with her baby daughter, polar bear plushie wrapped tightly in little hands.

Nix sat in his bed, knowing he had let down his pub friends. No mailbox was set up, so no one had any letters to send. No decorations were made, no festive lights, so the bard sighed as he got up, readying for a lone winter’s night. He walked up the stairs, feeling sad and dejected, but the scene he came upon was something thoroughly unexpected. Fredrick had set up a tree. Christmas cheer was still here. And someone had set up lights, mistletoe, holly, and had poured him a beer. A large man was walking about, his boots stomping on the floor, as he hung up some tinsel near the pub’s front door. The bard raised an eyebrow, curious and confused, who was this large man, and had he drank all their booze. The giant turned around, and faced the demigod, a smile on his face, he gave Nix a small nod.

“Hello little one, I hope you don’t mind, I had heard there was some trouble here, that you were in a bit of a bind. Your holiday cheer was running low, and things had been going slow, but I think this year, I’ll make sure things go. So take a load off your feet.” the bearded man said. “And let old Saint Nick do the work instead.”

Nix stifled a tear, and gave the man a smile as he sat near the fireplace to take a break for awhile. Meanwhile, the jolly old soul, pulled up a chair, next to the tree, a large red bag sat there.

It'd been an interesting year for Sil'morian, the Raven Queen.

She'd become a mother a second time over again, with the bouncing baby La'dranil filling much of her time with her near-constant giggles, and what her darling daughter didn't occupy, dealing with the matters of her empire back home made the Raven Queen (and her consort by extension) a somewhat scarce presence in the Pub over the past months.

Even with the matter of becoming the very first empress among fey on her plate, Sylrona couldn't help but think about a lighter thought that had been voiced aloud by To'dranil one morning, about a week ago: "The Pub is nice, as are the people in it, but I don't know if bringing La'dranil here all the time is a good idea. Perhaps we ought to look into a house here, not far from the Pub."

It was at that moment that Sylrona had realized she knew very little about the world around the Pub, and she cursed herself for being so ignorant, treating this place, full of potential (in more ways than one) as a simple vacation spot. Surely there were fey here, too, or resources she could acquire for her Court and her aspirations, in the world beyond the Pub. But those could wait. First, acquire real estate.

The Raven Queen put the bundle of joy away into To'dranil's arms, planted a kiss on his cheek, and said, "I'll be back soon, and if I'm not, well, I'll certainly let you know what's got me held up."

To'dranil, sweet man that he was, nodded and smiled. "Have fun, my queen," he said, and he placed La'dranil down into the bassinet to sleep as Sylrona left.

The Raven Queen went downstairs to the Pub proper and sighed. She supposed the first place to start on any adventure--even if it was the rather mundane adventure of buying property--was always the trustworthy barkeep, and so she went to whoever the bartender happened to be at the time. "Do you know how to buy a house around these parts?" she asked.

As the winter weather fully wraps its fingers around the pub, snow covers the forest in a blanket of white and everyone huddles in for the winter. Fires to keep things warm and cozy burn all hours of the day, and while daylight is brief, the candles and lights of the Pub make for a glowing bastion of hospitality in the cold.

On one dark evening, while others drink and huddle around the fire, the door is pushed open with a foot and some muffled curses. Gradually Fredrick works his way back inside, covered in snow and carrying a pine tree over his shoulder. After feeding the tree through the door, closing it with the trunk, and working to avoid most of the patrons, he brings the tree over to a brace in the corner, setting it down and having it secured, the top just a couple inches from the ceiling.

"Right then, that's all set," Fredrick nods, pulling off his snowy cap and stuffing it in a pocket before turning to face the other patrons there. "Back home, we would always try to get a tree of a sort to celebrate the end of the year, and help look forward to the next one. I have some things that I can add to it for decoration, but the best part is to see what everyone else wants to put on. So if you have something that you would like to see added to the tree, feel free to do so."

With that, he turns back to the tree, pulling out a box of ornaments to begin putting on the tree.

This is for players to quickly understand which character they are talking to and what they look like, beyond just their name. Comment a description of your character. Below is a blank example of what you may put down in your QCR. All of it is not required but the basic Name, Appearance and Personality are required if submitting a short QCR.

Who are you?

If you already made one in a previous iteration, you are not required to resubmit a new, unless desired with IC changes and so on. This is mainly for new characters coming in.

Table of Contents

Retired Creator:

• Retired Proprietor Quint Hemlock

Admins/Creators/Co-Creators:

• Proprietor Nix
• Bouncer Elwen Steelsong

Patrons:

A

• Adelaide Terrenford McKinley

• Adnorin “Nora” Laverde

• Adrik Ironfist

• Aethemora / Venaerys

• Aesier Evenwood

• Alethios (Theo) Damianos

• Alkaern Willows

• Almir

• Aluthol Steelsong

• Alvyn Turen

• Annar

• Ariban Elis

• Arranon Asmodeusson

• Aryia

• Askon

• Ava Turar

• Aerian Belladona

• Alexandra Rheese

• Alexis 'Lexi' Solheart

• Ataxi

• Aurelie de Montceleste

• Avery Weaver

• Azure Caesar

• Aerdreth

• Aisling Còmhan

• Alex Waffle.

• Andromeda

• Ansír

B

• Balinol
• Barbena Trueflame
• Baryas
• Bhaltair
• Booker
• Brigitte Savanoe
• Briony Davies
• Bazidan Gwa-handal Kel-maghreb

C

• Caelan Silentread
• Camille
• Carmela Kingsdaughter
• Cassius
• Cecil Holman
• Ceres Adamas
• Charles Gillet & Sarith
• Charlotte Alexandra Tarant
• Commandant Cavalry
• Cor’ethil
• Countess Desdemona Laven'tha

D

• Daiki
• Dakamos "Hope" Raka
• Daniel Lampier
• David Tanner
• Desminakindis Ten'Tanaros
• Dirty Scarf
• 'Doc' Tinn-Mar, PhD
• Donovan Tulmar
• Dr. Dakin Bludwynd
• Dyllon Fireoak

E

• Edward Lanceel Gregor Kirkpatrick III, Sir
• Eldon Vol Kano
• Ellis Booker
• Elvar Ashegore
• Ely
• Emilia Le Belle
• Eustella Selene
• Evan Gemonier
• Evander
• Eve Premi Omicronia
• Evendur Tallstag
• Ember

F

• Faephine Darkwood

• Fane Kothari

• Felix Illyrian

• Fenris Blackstar

• Filbert

• Fredrick Schmidt

• Feena Quipen

• Fray

G

• Gae Stormweaver
• Gambler Sakris
• Garret
• Gerald "Jerry" of Glen
• Gleaming Cascade
• Gregor Fodel
• Guillis Aquilaan
• Gwyn Gronw Gwallter
• Gulasa
• Ghesh Raghthroknaar

H

• Hassan Grimm
• Hirudea "the Dread"
• Hreiðarr Hrœrekr

I

• Igelara
• Irthos
• Izanami

J

• Jannes Shatter-Shield
• Jebediah P. Bungle
• Johana
• John Carthana, The Cleric of Winter
• Johnathan Jackson
• Jurzus the Cleansed
• Juliana "Juju" Chai

K

• Kaithor

• Kasius “Kass” d’Cannith

• Kei Wynchester

• Kenton of the Klemmenar, Freerider

• Kieth ShatterShield

• Kindness

• Kira Tempus

• Kori

• Kip

• Kip

• Kynaak Vrath

L

• Lacian Naïerastra
• La'rethaan, Princess of Raven Court
• Leipä “Ace” Filies
• Lillianne Strongbough
• Lilly
• Lily
• Lirin Therael
• Logi Bone-Eater
• Lucia
• Lucian
• Lucius C. Sumac and Ein Allbright
• Luna Moondancer
• Lyra

M

• Magnus Jamieson
• Mahtnarg Llah
• Marc Fellowsson, Wastewalker of the Shattered Steppes
• Maree Orstein
• Marion
• Mariya Hyacinth
• Matrim Callister (The White Raven)
• Mavis
• Milo Atroph and The Astral Hitchhiker
• Maxine Cross
• Monmonangamonanomo Monanbo
• Mortifer
• Moss
• Myles Alexander Tarant

N

• Naivara Azaki Lathalas-Sylvareth

• Nanos Raka

• Nari Danylyszyn Hand of the Raven

• Nightshade Remix

• Nora Burgleaf

• Null

• Numuhukumakiaki'aialunamor (AKA Rock)

• Noel Taylor

O

• Octavius Xarion
• Octivia Ashford
• Omyra Alenthol

P

• Pallette la Roux-Ailes, the White Rose
• Peldaan
• Peter stonefist
• Pierce A. Exubitor
• Poet Mordai
• Prysmiris
• Pursuit
• P’Seka
• Pyrrhus

R

• Rafael De Los Gatos

• Ragnar Rumaheim

• Ralgor Ironhide

• Ratier Dorvos

• Rerida Siden

• Rerumin Maximus

• Rhadagast Goldleaf

• Rhiannon

• Rilain Delphin

• Roselyn la Roux-Ailes, the Rainbow Rose

• Rusty Walker

• Rylven Arkenold

• Ray

• Rebecca Salter

• Redd Race: Human

• Reynauld Lighstrum, Executioner of the great church.

S

• Sabrae Fey-Branche

• Salazar "Sly" Slatecrown

• Samara Fabian

• Saren

• Sariel Kaufler

• Sarkaria

• Sef Khoran

• Seilius

• Seryiath Eliandros

• Seta Shigetaka

• Setsuna (Setsu)

• Sherry

• Shizuka

• Silon Feraral

• Simon Xarion

• Solomon Caine

• Sølvar Runarson

• Splendora

• Sted Dundragon

• Strychnos

• Su Shin Zhao

• Sylrona Carthana

• Sebastian Ignis Drehden

• Seras

• Sky Teinithra

• Stannaft

T

• Taka Hastier

• Tam

• Tauremorna, Princess of Winter Court

• Tegan Fellgrove

• Tess Flicker

• Thoronir Ironfist

• Thresh, Prince of Ruin, Champion of Nurgle, and Chaos Lord of the Death Guard

• Tillian "Tilly' Devilborn

• Tim Booker

• To’dranil, The Raven Consort Of Runyth.

• Truth

• Terasi d'Medani

• Timothy "Tim" Drakesburn

• Trista

• Tyranius Kinson

U

• Ulrick Hrolfsson
• Una ni Maonaigh

V

• Varen Ironforge
• Vengeance
• Vesryn Frostsinger
• Vincentius Creed
• Viridum
• Vixen Nightstar
• Vixxalia Melinai

W

• Wander

• Wisteria Godshand

• Wisp

X

• Xanaver Forgedawn

Y

• Yasha Ashcaller

Z

• Zahra bint Jabir
• Zarsina & Izka
• Zepher Hughes

It was strange, for the tiefling, to have to consider such an option. And it made so much more sense why archmages took on apprentices. There were always equations that needed to be balanced, information that needed to be looked up, and random bits and baubles that had to be collected.

She did not wish to admit it, but she needed a hand. But who? Lucia was a great help as always, but she needed someone that could understand the complex breadth of interplanar energies and their effect on spell matrices, all the while keeping track of interference that could occur during a spell. The other wizards she knew were either busy or could not be bothered with menial work, and the potential pupils weren’t exactly on the level that she needed a hand with.

Her thoughts trailed to another wizard that she deeply respected. And her twin.

Maree blinked.

Then a grin cracked across her face.

The short scholar went about the idea by her own methods. As easy as it was to just straight up ask to copy one’s notes on the subject, the tiefling was one to have a bit of pride when having to concoct such difficult spells. Ever since she cracked planar travel, the knowledge that came with being able to handle such an intense spell helped fuel other ambitious endeavors. And with her head sorted out now, the only limitations were that of her mind.

A muscle she had full intention of flexing as much as she could.

And with the weather cooling off, it posed an interesting opportunity for the employer.

One day, there was an interesting sight off to the side of the pub. Four individual, winged creatures with long hooked noses both sat and stood around a pile of ice. They weren’t very tall, or imposing, though they chattered threateningly at anyone that dare approach the pile. Occasionally, one would turn to the pile of ice and release a wave of frigid air from their maw, keeping the pile in shape and from melting.

A violet rift tore open beside the group, a few of them flying over to deal with whatever was to come through. Though instead a short, jacketed tiefling emerged, her satchel in her hands. Aquan “Oh, don’t g-give me that, you all saw me leave,” Aquan she complained, waving a few of the creatures away as she went to the pile. The satchel was turned inside out, a deluge of ice and snow pouring out into a larger pile. She shook the bag a few more times to get a few snowballs out before stowing the satchel away.

She clapped her hands once before reaching forward and pulling a body mirror out of a minute rift. It planted itself on the ground, Maree taking a few steps back and staring intensely at herself. Slowly, she turned, getting every angle she possibly could get locked into her head. With a nod, she waved away the mirror, vanishing by dropping into another violet rift underneath it.

Maree cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders.

A few spells were cast. The first couple had no visible effects, though the other was more obvious. In the middle of the pile of ice, a perfect copy of the tiefling stood. It would have been believable, were it not for its knees to be covered in ice. The image stood perfectly still.

The scholar walked a slow circle around the mephits and the pile, her muttering commands under her breath. And slowly, the ice began to move on its own, getting put into piles that filled the space of her copy. Every now and then, one of the mephits would encase the progress in a wave of ice, keeping its shape. Or Maree would reach into her pocket and step into the work in progress and sprinkle a sparkly red dust about the snow and ice.

This process took nearly the entire day. From sunrise, to sunset. Over time, the ice statue became more and more like the conjurer, the details going from vague, to fine. At first it was merely just in shape, then definition was implemented. Everything from the small scars of altercations, to even her horn that was ever so faintly askew. The statue, at this point, was clearly magically created, it lacked the flare of an artist’s touch. Instead it held aloft and crafted by cold logic.

Just as the sun touched the horizon on its descent, Maree was exhausted at this point. Most of her magical capabilities were expended to keep the ice statue from melting and from constantly refreshing simple magics to shape the ice.

Then the mephits vanished with an arcane fizzle and a pop.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes and digging around in her bag once more. “Hopefully this works,” the tiefling mumbled to herself, pulling out an old blue and violet robe that was two sizes too large. She threw it over the statue, put its arms through the sleeves, and tied it closed. Uncouthly, the scholar chewed on her fingernails until a few scraps were in hand. Those were placed into the packed snow.

Maree took a few steps back and inhaled deeply. “Nihil vitae est. Ligabis ad suum arbitui meum. Facquo in facquo mihi,” she spoke aloud in arcane gibberish. Pinks and violets began to form around her hands, tendrils of energy streaking off of her wrists, ribboning around with each movement and key. Then, finally, she flicked the nose of the statue.

All of the energy rushed to fill the vessel. The white snow and clear ice filled with dark, dark skin from the feet upward, a line of pink energy thrumming as it transformed the solid waters. The robe flittered about as it settled against flesh underneath. The last of the energy went up and past the statue’s face, once solid hair now blown about before coming to a rest.

The illusion that was placed before was now made a reality. And the reality began to move. A long sigh came out of it, the Maree in the oversized robe rolling her shoulders and stretching from side to side. “... interesting…” they mused aloud, looking about themselves, inspecting their hands and bare feet. A small, simple spell was used from them, solid violet eyes flashing gold for a moment. “... I am a construct? That means I don’t need to eat. And…”

Her gaze settled on the other tiefling that was face first in the snow. Maree prime had passed out from the casting.

“... ugh, not now, I need things to do,” the duplicate complained, hands on their hips. “I’m guessing you did this? Could have at least gotten me shoes. Or a jacket.”

To anyone passing by, there was a simpler looking Maree giving a pouty look at… another Maree? The standing Maree nudged the fallen tiefling with her tail, mostly thwapping the other’s back to get them up, though she remained supine.

Throughout the summer, Wander had spent most of her time patrolling the forests surrounding the Pub. Keeping the nearby area safe from monsters, and making sure the forest is staying healthy. From time to time, she would visit the Pub's garden, tending to some of her plants there.

Now that Fall is in full swing, cold weather is starting to set in. Not even the powers of a druid could keep the plants alive during this season, nor should they.

Wander stepped outside this morning and felt the cold breeze blow through her hair. She realized that she needed to tend to her plants in the garden. The druid quickly made her way over and got right to work.

She started harvesting any remaining unique fruits that were a gift from last year's Nixmas. Papayas, Banans, and mangoes were among the fruits that remained on their respective, miniature trees.

Next was her patch of daisies, her favorite flower. While some were starting to wilt already, Wander was able to pick enough to fill a bouquet. As she was doing so, a daisy began to seemingly move on its own. The movement briefly startled the Druid. She pushed some of the flowers away to find the root cause of the movement. What she found was one of the animated turnips that call the garden home to be the source. She smiled at the turnip and let it go about its business. She rose to her feet to deal with her last crop.

Wander moved to a secluded section of the garden, hidden behind other plants, but still able to have ample sunlight shining down on it. There grew a small crop of silver wheat, taken from Keith's farm and homestead. The druid spent several moments staring at the wheat as it rustled in the wind. She thought back to her experiences with Keith as she took great care to harvest and preserve as much as she could for next summer.

After gathering all of her harvest, she returned to the pub and set her haul down on a table, figuring out what to do with it all.

Maree, the Planar Expert, lands in front of the pub’s stage after stepping out of a violet rift, her adjusting her grey and violet robes and stepping up to get everyone’s attention. She shifted on her feet some and cleared her throat. Despite how oft she used to speak in front of students, it still made her a little unsettled to speak to many people.

Though, the lack of an arena was getting in the way of research. So…

A simple Minor Illusion cantrip made a loud ‘ting ting ting!’ noise resonate through the lounge. “E-Excuse me. Er, hello. Hi. I’m going to fix the arena, well, try to. I’m going to need some people. Probably like, three. Or four. Depends on how you keep up. We’re going to go find some crystals to replace the ones in the arena. Because there’s some c...“

She cleared her throat. Overexplaining. “Going to the College first to get some information and then we’ll head out. Questions? Actually, I hope you don’t have any, I don’t have answers.”

Maree hopped off the stage and began rifling through her satchel to take stock of everything.

(Following up from the Event about the arena breaking. Mostly looking for information on how to find replacement crystals. Party size max 5.)

(Recruitment closed.)