Jack: I think that’s an extreme reaction, El.

Rory: No, no. She’s right. You’ve doomed them all.

Erin: Guys, should we be joking about this? After, you know, Isenmar?

Layla: I’m not joking, Legs. If there’s a god of narrative structure, he or she just started writing the part where Moryven burns to the ground or is swallowed by an earthquake or hit by a meteor.

“Oy, yeh lot gonna stand in my doorway all day or yeh gonna order somethin’?” a matronly dwarven burr boomed from the back of the inn.

They vacated the landing at the bottom of the steps leading down into the Molten Yam’s taproom with haste.

“Good day, madame keeper, we’ve just arrived in Mor-” Rory started.

“C’mere, lad. I’m not gonna holler at yeh from across the room,” the dwarf cut Rory off, but they could hear the mischief in her voice.

The four walked to the bar, built at Jack and Erin’s waist height for the dwarven clientele. Rory pulled out a chair and started to sit.

“What’re yeh doin’ there, lad?” the woman finally emerged from the kitchen behind the bar, four and a half feet of generously proportioned dwarfess, with bright golden hair and brilliant blue eyes.

“That bit’s fer shorties. Beanpoles sit at the big boy tables over there,” she pointed to the righthand side of the taproom, where tables and chairs sized for taller creatures were grouped.

“You must be Tilly,” Rory grinned at the teasing. “We’ll sit here. If it’s good enough for dwarves, it’s good enough for us.”

She gave him a crooked grin.

“Oh, you’re dangerous. Boshed courtiers,” she chuckled. “What’ll it be today, then?”

“Meeeeeeeeeeaaaadddd!” Layla interrupted, causing Rory to hang his head and Tilly to raise an eyebrow.

The dwarfess recovered almost instantly and retrieved a tall frosted mug from under the bar, then filled it with equally chilled golden mead.

“Here ya are, lass. Shall I start yeh all a tab, or yeh wanna square up now?” she eyed Rory.

“A tab is fine, Tilly. We’d also like three rooms, best beds you have, for the week,” he replied.

The keeper’s eyes twinkled as stacks of coins began to collect in her imagination.

“Fer a week, eh?” she glanced over the four as they took their seats. “Not stayin’ at the Guildhall, then?”

“My understanding is that the accommodations are a bit spartan, and we’ve been on the road for over a month. Good beds. Good food. Lots of alcohol,” he gave her a smile.

“Arright, lad. Beds ‘re a silver a night, with breakfast at dawn, dinner and a pint at sunset. Yeh miss either meal, yeh get the leftovers if there are any. No fightin’ in the taproom. One warnin’, then yer out, no refunds. No alchemical experiments, no guts or bloody monster trophies, no combat magic anywhere inside the Yam, understood?” she eyeballed each in turn.

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in turn.

Rory retrieved three gold from his storage and placed it on the bar.

“Rooms for the week, dinner and drinks tonight, and a tip,” he smiled.

“Ohhh, up front an’ everythin’. I can tell I’m gonna like yeh,” she grinned and called for one of the other employees to begin preparing their rooms.

“It’ll probably be half an hour afore the rooms are ready. There’s some comfy chairs about the fireplace over there, if’n yeh wanna take a load off. Dinner’ll be in a few hours, but I reckon Findam is already in the back, doin’ the prep. If yeh like, I’ll see what he can whip up fer lunch,” she pointed toward the fireplace on the far left wall of the inn, where numerous sitting chairs and low tables were spread about.

“That would be lovely, Tilly, thank you,” Rory gave her another grin. “Could you recommend something to drink with bread and pastries?” he asked as he began removing the boxes from Saffron & Sugar from his storage.

The dwarfess watched within gradually growing surprise as he pulled container after container of still-warm bakery products from the glowing storage mandala.

“First time there?” she whistled.

“First time in Moryven,” he replied with a smile.

Layla and Erin immediately began stuffing their faces with hellfire honey puffs and cupcakes, while Jack began to pick through the random assortment of baked goods Rory had procured for him to try.

“Ohhh, honey puffs. Haven’t had one in forever. I’ll have ta send one o’ the lasses down the street to grab a box,” she sighed wistfully.

Erin picked one up and shoved it toward the innkeep, with no pause in her consumption of the puff in her other hand.

Tilly paused only for a moment before accepting the spicy sweet treat, then nibbled a corner. Her eyes fluttered under their lids and an audible sigh of pleasure escaped her lips.

“I’ve no idea what in the depths Saffron does to these things ta make ‘em so good, but I jus’ hope she keeps doin’ it,” she issued another involuntary noise of contentment.

Eventually, the rapid consumption of baked goods slowed to a crawl, and Tilly began plying her new tenants with the various liquors she usually recommended to those new to the region.

“This n’s called Ilvire Lager. They make it with that grass grows down in the Hollow. It’s a bit expensive, as ol’ man Blackwicke buys up all the ilvire grass to make healing potions and sell em to the Guild, but it’s right tasty,” she pushed four half-pints of purple beer toward the Chosen.

“Izz… purple... “ Layla hiccupped, already smashed.

“Slow down there, El. You’re gonna miss dinner,” Erin put a hand on the succubus’ back.

“Izz… okay. I’m rrreallsy tired. I’ll just… “ hiccup, “feed… tamale…” She grinned at Erin and gave her an exaggerated wink.

“Anyone wanna bring this creature to her bed? I just want one more glass of mead,” Erin eyed the two tall mugs of cold mead in front of her, then picked up the purple beer and took a swig.

Jack turned to check on Rory, who had been seated by the fire, nursing his fifth mug of mead and resting his feet, sans boots. The salesman was mouth-open, drooling, unconscious.

“I’ll take ‘em up. Work on that mead, and I’ll be right back down to have dinner with you,” he favored Erin with a brilliant smile, and she returned the beaming expression.

Jack walked over to Rory and picked the merchant up in a princess carry, his shadow limbs snatching up the salesman’s boots as subtly as possible. Hauled out of his seat, Rory came half-awake, then saw that Jack had picked him out of his chair and promptly laid his head against the nightbringer’s chest.

“...thnnks, Jackson…” he mumbled.

“It’s ok bud, I gotcha,” he replied.

He carried Rory up to his room, unlocking the door with the thick brass key, and deposited the smaller man in his bed, shadow arms pulling aside the covers and fluffing the pillows. The cluster of quasi-solid black tentacles unbuckled and deftly stripped off Rory’s armor, tossing the road-worn leathers to the floor next to the bed. As he tucked Rory in, he looked down to find the salesman staring up at him, mostly awake, though not entirely sober.

“You’re a good mate, Jackson,” he shed a tear, wiping it away hastily.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Rory. Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow, it’s adventure time,” he grinned.

“Ugh, get out” Rory groaned and flung himself away from Jack, burying himself in the down pillow.

“Oh god. A bed. Jack, it’s a bed,” he dug himself further into the covers and the down mattress.

“Thought I was supposed to get out,” Jack laughed.

“Thanks for reminding me. Now out,” Rory splayed himself across the cool linen of the bedsheets.

Jack was still laughing as he locked Rory’s door and slid the key back under, where it skittered across the wooden floor and came to rest against his leather armor. Jack threw his arm up and motioned a swish with his hand, then headed back down the stairs into the taproom.

Erin was head down on her arm, passed out at the bar.

“Yer friends cannae hold their liquor, lad,” Tilly teased him.

“We’ve been on the road for a month. Covered about five hundred miles in that time. They get to be tired,” he smiled gently at her.

"What's a mile?" she asked.

"Give or take one and a half leagues," he wobbled his hand.

“Depths, lad, I’d have passed out at the Cross Gate. Take ‘em upstairs,” she laughed.

He gathered Layla up, torso in one arm and legs in the other, same as Rory, then marched for the stairs, where he unlocked the room next to Rory’s. They’d argued over who would have to sleep in the room next to her, and the hard-fought compromise had been that she would get the middle room and both of them would suffer the succubus’ raucous liaisons equally.

As he was unlocking the door, she stirred and opened her eyes.

“Hello, tall, pale, and dark-eyed. You finally carrying me to bed to have your way with me? I’m disappointed Erin isn’t here. I was hoping to get both of you at once,” she teased as he pushed the door open with his foot and walked across the room.

“You know I’m not,” he replied, shaking his head.

Then he let go of her, making to dump her onto the bed. She didn’t let go, though, her legs swinging down as his unnatural strength left him standing upright as easily as if he were bolted to the floor. She tucked her legs up, leaving her kneeling on the mattress with her arms around his neck, their faces close enough that the pleasant scent she naturally gave off was overpowering. Her eyes had bled to gold and her horns slowly materialized.

“You’re drunk, Layla,” he looked down at her.

“My Endurance is higher than yours, pretty boy,” she grinned.

“That’s not the skill you use for resisting poison and you know it,” he gave her an amused scowl.

“All the same, spent all that time kissing you in the Grotto and I still gotta wonder if you’re as good as Erin thinks, or if she’s just got a small sample size. How’s your… sample size?” she looked down suggestively.

“I’m not gonna cheat on Erin, Layla, and you’re not actually trying to get me in bed. You’re just pushing the envelope, like you always do. You just want to know you could have me if you really wanted me. And yes, if I were single, I’d absolutely give you the twenty-one-tentacle-tickle, but I’m not,” he took a deep breath.

“I really do love her, El. I’m not gonna hurt her like that,” he gave the succubus a soft smile and gently unlatched her arms from around his neck.

“Goddamn, you’re smooth,” she smirked at him.

“Yeah, like an awkward jello cup,” he laughed and handed her the key to her room.

She watched him walk toward the door, biting her lip at the memory of him standing shirtless in front of the pond in the fading sunlight, and as he opened it to go downstairs, she called after him.

“Does that mean if I can get Erin in the sack, you’ll give me the twenty-one-tentacle-tickle?”