“Golden Point Pest Extermination, what can I do for you? … Emergency call? How soon do you need us? … There’s only one guy here that’s qualified for that. … Favor? Let me check the ledger on that, can I get your name again?”

My ears perked up as I heard the range of possibilities narrow faster and faster. The proverbial buck barreled toward my desk at hypersonic speed. I fished out said ledger of favors and debts from the shelf and placed it on my desk in front of me before Tony arrived. We met eyes and he flipped it open, looking for a name.

“Alright, let’s see… ah! There it is. Your name is crossed out, notes say he bought you safe passage through the Hells out of pocket. That sounds settled to me. … No, he’s not in a charitable mood right now. … Man, beggars can’t be choosers. Our prices are perfectly reasonable. … If you raise your voice, I will hang up.”

I shook my head and sighed. “Alright, go ahead and hand ‘em over.”

Tony looked slightly disappointed but passed the calling stones. I took a deep breath and started on the latest adventure in call-taking.

“Dennis here, who the hell is getting belligerent with my employee? … Kevin? I thought I told you to buzz off out of my life! … Look, Tony already spoke for me. I’m not a charity. If it’s not too bad, I can be in and out with an affordable bill, assuming you have any gold saved. Teleportation is more expensive than you seem to think though. … Uh-huh. Just one tower. Do you think I’m stupid? There’s basements, secret passages, burrows, and even extradimensional pockets sometimes*.* If you want help, fine, but you have to pay for services rendered.”

There was a long silence until Kevin answered. To my surprise, he didn’t yell or hang up. “Oh, really? Well, okay—if you really are good for it—I can be there. Telecommuting is a four-thou charge though, and that’s on-cost. … Alright, if the bank can vouch for you, I'll have to call them real quick. In the meantime, you’ll need some magic chalk and a hard surface.”

……

“So how do you know Kevin?” Tony asked as he passed me the wand of globulized gloopification from one of the Ratcave™’s weapon racks.

I yoinked the last bottle of sinking doom from the shelf. “We go back, though not in a great way. He was like… the third GC I met. We were trucked in around the same time. I rolled with him for those few starter quests before getting my clever idea for Golden Point. It’s good too, cuz he’s an asshole.”

“And you were willing to owe him a big favor?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.

I finished packing the three extradimensional sacks and checked my gear. “Yeah, well, I had to fight tooth and nail the first year and a half before this place took off. I bled a trail of favors and loans so rich the debt collectors could sniff me out for miles. And yet here we are, a successful business, and a great way to shirk that oddly-dangerous early level adventuring.”

Tony nodded appreciatively. “And I love ya for it, boss.”

I gave him a knowing smile. “Ei, Tony, fuggedaboutit. But if you can’t, then let’s see one of those love languages.” I passed him the broom. “Acts of service, in this case?”

“Aww, maaaan. Has anyone figured out how to teleport without throwing glass bits everywhere?”

“Of course! The Hells patented them! Shall we sign up for their subscription service? Only 25,000 gold per month!”

……

I appeared in a forest clearing, intact, but in mild psychedelic shock. I looked around and saw Kevin. He was a tall jock, wearing scale armor, maul in one hand, shield in the other. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Paladin,” I greeted coldly.

“Businessman,” he snarled back.

I looked around, seeing a dark-haired girl dressed halfway between sensible and swiss guard, who I assumed to be a caster. Next was a lanky dude in a green poncho with a bow, and some pasty nerd with goggles and spiky hair. Potion girl, I thought to myself as I looked her outfit up and down. She wore a riding coat with an inordinate number of pockets.

They were courteous and shook my hand, introducing themselves. Paul the ranger, Elaine the Alchemist, and Gina the sorcerer(sorceress, but those arseholes don’t let you gender your class on the stat card). Luckily, Gina was the party’s friendly face and took to relaying the story. I promptly ignored Kevin entirely as I got the low down for what was going on.

Apparently, they’ve been thwarting the evil schemes of this one dark overlord for about two years, following him from dungeon to dungeon, solving mysteries and uncovering plots aplenty.

“And then we tracked him to this tower. But when we arrived earlier today, he was sitting on the front doorstep, head in hands looking down on himself. It wasn’t an ambush, and when we questioned him, he said: ‘Sorry, guys, this place is all wrong. I don’t know the layout, the monsters are all feral, I can’t get the keys to work, and I’m not even sure I can control the traps. I have nothing for this week.’”

I scrunched my brow, having read something similar in the gaming club group chat back in high school. I raised a hand. “Lemme get this straight. You want me to help him get the place ready… so you can go kick down the door?”

The four of them nodded in agreement as Gina answered. “Basically, yeah. Can you do it?”

“Probably, but… I dunno. It sounds like he needs a therapist a bit more than an exterminator.” I paused, then shrugged. “It’s your dime. I’ll see what I can do.”

I pulled out the map and compass I had packed and set them out on the stump they used for a camp table. “So we’re about here, right? Point me to the tower, then go catch some R&R in town. But first, I want you to sign a little something…”

……

A tower rose from the trees ahead, visible from the small hilltop I crested. It was tall, thickly built, and had a domed red roof. “Yyyup, that’s a penis,” I commented to nobody in particular. I looked further down. “Aww, it even widens at the base. What the fuck.”

Distraction concluded, I checked a nicely-angled rock on the hilltop. I did some quick mental calculations as I imagined a trajectory. Then, I puffed my chest with confidence and took a few steps back. First, I cast featherweight, which is legally distinct from featherfall. Then I dumped far more mana into hyperdash.

I shot forward at blazing speed and ramped off the stone, causing the physics engine to suffer a minor aneurysm. The wind blew my hair in some way other than majestically as I soared high and far. My ballistic arc took me right toward the tower, slowly losing altitude in a trickling insult to gravity. (Who gives a crap about gravity?)

My momentum faded across the flight as drag did its thing, eventually dumping me within a few hundred feet of the tower… and through a tree. Occupational hazard. After picking some branches from my clothes, and a twig from up my nose, I brushed off and carried on. The lack of a clearing around the tower suggested disrepair at a glance. I was still dodging shrubberies; invaluable plants to have on hand in case of odd-sounding knights.

I came around the corner and spotted the foretold mopey bastard. Spiky black armor, big, dramatically billowing cloak, and that one flat-topped side-horned helm. Your typical evil overlord. And going off his height I guessed him to be of decent rank; since height scales with lordly power, obviously. Common sense demanded I announce myself, rather than pop up on him.

“Hey, dark lord guy, need a hand?” I asked, gaining no response. Soon within arm’s reach, I knocked on the flat top of his helmet. “Knock knock, anyone home?”

“What do you want, Gods’ Chosen?” he asked with a depressed drawl.

After a moment, I sighed and sat down beside him. “Kevin I-know-a-guy’d me. The party said you couldn’t get the monsters straightened out and they couldn’t help you directly. I’m in pest control so they asked me to help.”

“That bunch of imbecilic, lucky overachievers? They wouldn’t know the correct solution to a problem if I wrote it down on a note and left it for them on a pedestal. And what do those fools think an exterminator could do here? Feral or not, they are capable monsters, far outclassing one man. No, the party is already here, and I cannot even reach the paperwork on the top floor. Neither of us could hope to solve this.”

I tentatively patted him on the back. “Look, dude. I’m a professional. I’ve cleared out whole dungeons of everything from rats and leftover mobs to as much as those clockwork dragons. Plus I’m LCE certified with catch-orbs. I can help.”

I handed him my business card. “And, as a recognized serviceman, the league might subsidize my work for you. Assessment’s free, clearing is a third off.” I conveniently omitted the 15% covered by the league was being supplemented by Kevin’s party.

He huffed. “Well if a professional look is free I might as well take it. I’m Imperator Lervan. What do you need?”

“I’m Dennis, and I would like a hand with the door,” I said as I set down my bags and hopped up.

I could feel an odd look coming through his visor. “It’s a door, untrapped and unlocked.”

“I gotta pull it off the hinges! This is a Doomtower, right? A prebuilt for the villain in a rush?”

He nodded slowly. “It is, but what will removing the door do?”

“Man, just help me knock the hinge pins out.”

……

The hold orchestra played with their usual skills as I waited for the LCE records department to pull the schematics. The door’s hinge plate sat beside me, its purpose served after I read the hidden serial number off to the call lady. Lervan was standing up, which I presumed to be a better state than a figurative puddle on the stairs. I had my translocator band standing by, but—assuming it would be a while—I struck up a conversation with the microstone covered.

“So what’s the deal with this place? Doomtowers are nice, but it seems a bit… starter-y for a seasoned villain such as yourself.”

He crossed his arms. “It’s a long story, fraught with plot and scheming. Too long for right now.”

“Hey, telling a long story is like monologuing, and that could really lift your spirits. I love classical orchestra as much as the next guy, but I can only take so much,” I explained as I heard a violin miss a note and the musician get gagged and dragged off for his terrible infraction.

“You seem to know your villainy in surprising detail for a serviceman.”

I smiled and decided to sound more intelligent than I could ever hope to be. “The rats of the dark castles hear many things, and I’m paid to go where they do.”

Lervan scratched his helm. “Hmm, magical spying rats?” he postulated, giving me a sinking feeling deep down as I imagined dealing with them. “Another time perhaps…” he trailed off.

He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. “Though my schemes of political intrigue and sabotage are proceeding excellently, they have been slow.”

“Politicians ruin in a year what armies do in a day,” I added.

“Precisely! However, I am forced to let it fruit naturally over time, lest I harvest an unripe bounty and unwittingly kill this tree I’m growing. That has left me with far too much time, which I have been spending on overt, outlandish schemes. Attracting adventurers has been a welcome side-effect, and I am enjoying the rivalry that I have grown with Kevin’s band.

“They would thwart my plots and feel victorious, while I would escape having done enough to ensure light cannot grow too large... though I have yet to complete any of my plans. I must admit, I am quite fond of our ongoing strife.”

Someone in the orchestra coughed and what sounded like a scuffle ensued. They tried to remove him quietly, but some brass instruments collided. “Alright, so you have this nemesis relationship with them, but how does the tower factor in?”

“Well, you see, I am but one man, and my schemes only come to me so fast. Four imbeciles they may be, but their lack of intellect somehow does not hinder them in their pursuit of me. They’ve been steadily gaining on me, and it’s down to the final sprint before my grand reveal. I thought my last plot would have held them for long enough, but I was mistaken.”

I held up a finger with an understanding grin. “So you got the prebuilt to buy time needed to finish the big finale?”

“Correct. It was so disheartening when I got here ready to put on a show, only to find it all in chaos. You’ve got my hopes up now, Dennis. You’d best deliver, for your own sake.”

As he finished speaking, the stones crackled back to life and the lady on the other end informed me she had the schematics and was faxing them through. Sure enough, the translocator band started to spit out pages upon pages onto my lap. We received the layout, complete with technical details, trap placements, maintenance instructions, monster manifest, and, most importantly, executive access instructions.

“Ain’t no happier place than facing the forces of good with an evil scheme at your back.” I picked up our first necessary page. “Alright, Doofenshmirtz, let’s get you ready for Perry.”

……

I held the master’s shiv carefully as I aligned it with the slots between the bricks. I checked the diagram twice, hoping that I would not input the wrong code and that I had not been given the wrong schematics. Been there, done that, lots of ‘splodeyness. I pressed the thin, ornamental blade between the crack and heard a click! No explosion, huzzah!

With a rush of confidence, I finished inputting the code and the back of the tower slid open, revealing the administrative service shaft. I passed the shiv back to Lervan and took a look up and down. The shaft extended far in either direction and stank of musty, moldy gunk. But the only true offense to my senses was the goddamn aftermarket ladder rungs.

“Aww man, no elevator! Must’ve removed it, major dick move.” I looked down, then up again. “Well, since you’re pitching in, are you a bottom-up, or top-down kinda guy?”

“Top-down, to keep our backs clear. I don’t know if anything has burrowed into the basement, but given the poor condition of the tower, it seems likely.”

“Good call,” I commented as I started the roughly 20-story climb.

……

Lervan grappled with the Shining Guardian, a six-armed steel construct that didn’t live up to its name, since, like, 20 years ago when it was last polished. While Lervan was tanking hits like the literal boss he was, I snuck around back to apply my mechabuster knife. It wasn’t quite that simple, however, as the thing had 360° vision and the aforementioned six arms. Lucky for me, two were reserved for rude gestures, so it wouldn’t be too bad.

Of course, my dagger and buckler somewhat paled in comparison to the mech’s scimitar and flail, but I was one more thing it had to worry about. Lervan landed a big bash with his spiky black shield, stealing enough attention that I could dive down and stab the thing in its knee, ending its adventuring days. It knelt from the sudden dysfunction of locomotion, flipping me off all the while; which opened Lervan to smash it in the head with his 35lb mace. Ouch.

The thing flew across the room and impacted the wall with a resounding crunch of fragile internal components. “Oof, that sounded expensive,” I blurted.

To our surprise, it started to get back up. I spied the mechabuster lying on the floor, having been dislodged. I hit the guardian with the wand of globulized gloopification, but the ball of immobilizing glue did little to that beast of a construct. I rushed over to my knife as Lervan was trying to pin it down for deactivation. Right as the guardian was about to throw him off I stabbed it square in the small of its back, slipping into one of those terribly inconvenient gaps in the armor. It seized up and I heard an internal drive belt slip off its wheel. We both took a breather.

I steadied my heart rate and worked a newly-bruised joint. “Hope it’s salvageable, always frustrating to wreck a perfectly good mech just cuz it can’t recognize its owner.”

Lervan produced a toolkit from his billowing black cloak and removed his gauntlets. “I love mechs, I know how to fix them and I put one in every dungeon. I will have it functioning in a few minutes. Go clear the attic lair and fetch the papers.”

“Righto,” I said as I drew my zapperclub.

I left him to it, climbing the generic spiraling staircase, connecting generic circular stone rooms. I’m not complaining, mind you, you really notice the ratholes when everything is supposed to look the same. Though I will admit that whoever made the prebuilt dungeons was clearly not paid by the hour. I arrived at the top of the stairs, finding a door with obvious boss room vibes. Lervan being the boss, I was not particularly concerned. I grasped the latch and pushed. It didn’t open.

Only by painfully throwing my entire weight into it several times did it move by a few inches. I settled for a few days worth of sore shoulders to get it open. The moment I could move through, I stuck my head in and something swiped at it. I dodged and waved the zapperclub, which made scary noises and hit nothing. I heard some avian screeching and also discerned whatever it was moving away, so I peeked again.

Griffins! More specifically, night griffins; a combination of raven and black panther. And there were chicks in a nest… made with lots of strips of paper… great. Fuck me, that’s a protected species! I thought as I ducked back out and shut the door. I took a breath and thought for a moment before getting the map and calling stones out.

……

“Hello? … Oh, Drominnus, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up, I just wanted to bounce a call off your hub sigil. … Ohhhhh, you got caller I.D. working? That’s great! … What? … I’m uhh, I’m kinda on a job right now, can it wait? … Okay, I’ll talk to you about it day after tomorrow, I promise. … Great, now, I need to contact the harpy nest north of Nadell. … Thanks.”

I waited patiently as the calling stone equivalent of a dial tone repeated for a minute.

“Hey, hello, yes, this is Dennis, the pest guy from the feather-lice issue. … Yes, they really can have incoming calls without the sigil sometimes. … Look, I don’t know all the details, I just wanted to talk to a shaman, can you hand it over? Thanks.” I waited for the call to get passed along.

“Hello? … Ochiki? Heyyyyy! Nice to hear your voice! … Huh? … Oh, no, I’m not calling to take up your offer, though I’m sure the kids would be very cute. No, I found a family of night griffins near your village, could you send someone over? … A mating pair and two chicks, from what I saw. … Yes, my face is still attached, luckily. … You can? Great, I’m over in Dapplewood, look for the big tower. … Yeah, the one that looks like a penis. … Three hours? That’s pretty great honestly, thank you. I should be–”

I was interrupted as Ochiki informed me of the demands of tradition. “That haka thing? I mean, I remember how to do it, but you said I was a disaster while performing it. … Really? You thought downplaying my natural talent would get you in my pants? Amazing.” I shook my head. “What do I need for the ritual again?”

……

This is a stupid goddamn idea, I thought as I felt the tower’s cold draft against my bare chest. Sure the harpies made the night griffins, and also engrained their personalities with ways to tame them, but that didn’t mean I actually wanted to do it. Just walk into the room full of murder-cat-birds and their chicks and dance aggressively at them, what could go wrong? But apparently, I had to… for cultural reasons (AKA peer pressure from dead people, who may or may not have died doing what I was about to).

I prefer the kind of culture that makes tacos, overprotective mothers, and memes about sandals as weapons; not the kind that makes you do stupid shit. Maybe that’s just me. Given the nature of Nassur, it might actually just be me. Either way, I was shirtless, had a knife tied to each foot, and carried a torch in one hand, with an improvised maraca in the other.

With a few quick breaths, I pushed the door open and kicked the speaker stone in. “Start the music!” I shouted, and the harpies on the other end got their tribal instruments going.

Maracas, flutes, drums, and a didgeridoo all played a big hyped-up theme as I made my entrance, bounding into the room to a pair of highly alert 60lb death machines. They started to approach me, so I stomped, causing the knife behind my heel to clack like a harpy’s claw. They backed off and I started the stompy, threatening, orbiting dance.

It was a strange day that I learned the ritualistic taming dance. For fixing the lice, I could either be taught the dance or be paid in favors (yes, that kind). It’s like a haka, but it’s set to music, you move around a lot, and you have a maraca and a torch. And if the critter you’re supposed to impress doesn’t buy it, you put the torch to your chest and intimidate them with the smell of your burning flesh… god I love my bulk healing potion discount.

……

Puffing, sore, and with at least two patches of third-degree burns, I had finally gotten the message across: Big birdie is coming to collect you, pack up! Apparently, giant ravens are pretty smart, even when contaminated with sleepy cat genes. They went over to their nest and curled up to wait. I shoved the maraca in my belt and picked up the calling stones that were laying on the floor.

“Hey, I can’t hear you screaming in agony! That means you did it, bravo!” Ochiki shouted into her microstone.

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. I have to get going now, toodle-oo.”

My mind was firmly on a healing potion or three as I stepped toward the door, only to see Lervan staring at me.

“What in the world did I just watch?” he asked.

“Cultural stuff,” I answered gruffly.

……

On the upside, the further from the boss room we got, the simpler the monsters were. Six floors down, we were fighting a giant enemy crab (whose weak point I could attack for massive damage). It was tiring out and that meant my moment had arrived. I glooped it in place and pulled a crystalline marble from a pouch on my belt, then threw it at the volcanic carcinus.

In a flash of light, the monster was suddenly trapped in the orb, unable to escape and forever stored until needed. (No, your honor, I have never seen this technology before in my life, and definitely not painted red and white. What do you mean ‘guilty’?) The marble landed on the floor and wobbled briefly before I picked it up to shove in my bag.

“Just ten more to go!” Lervan declared, his spirits somehow higher than mine.

……

Hellhounds? Captured. Puzzles? Reset. Acidic Komodos? Got orbs of their own. Hotel? [ ]. We’d made it to the bottom floor by sunset; no mean feat. And what is our reward, you might ask? Butcher moles! Hundreds of the little shits. Not only that, but rooteants too! Like treants, but just the roots, and they’re actually a parasite that gloms onto regular trees. Angry little whippy tentacle bastards they are.

We were slashing through the moles quickly, hoping to find some tunnels to collapse. Lervan had decided that the rooteants were free adventurer fodder, but not the moles. So we were systematically shutting every tunnel dug into the basement.

“Tunnel, left!” I cried.

With a glance, he bowled a fireball right into the burrow, causing a rush of smoke and giblets to fly out as the blast sealed the entrance. We repeated that process six or seven times, bringing me back to some game I played on a friend’s N64. I remembered tunnels in the wall that would spawn an infinite conga line of mobs until you broke them. It was like that. I used to remember the title of that game…

In time, we sealed all the entrances we could find and escaped with our toes still attached. We both sat on the front step of the tower, exhausted. While Lervan slowly faxed the papers back to the league, I broke out the dinner I’d packed. A nice dish of rice, beans, and sausage. It materialized in the bowl the moment I cut the ribbon binding it. Good and steaming hot.

“Ha! Such simple tastes, I could do with no less than a feast!” Lervan boasted.

I extended part of my dessert package. “Chocolate chip cookie?”

“Oh, yes!” he answered, taking the offered cookie and dropping it into his visor.

I looked at him, flabbergasted as crunching soon emanated from his helmet. “Damn, you’re a pro. Do you not take that off?”

“This is the way,” he answered. I raised an eyebrow and he seemed a little surprised. “Is that not the quote?”

“I… dunno. Did a Gods’ Chosen tell you that?” He nodded emphatically. I shrugged. “Must’ve been after my time.”

……

“HEY, DOWN HERE!” I called to a harpy silhouette in the night sky.

Said harpy landed nearby and wandered over. “Dennis?” he asked.

“Yup. Getcha friend, cats’re on the top floor and I couldn’t get past them to open the window.”

Soon afterward, Lervan, two harpies, and I panted and dripped with sweat as we climbed all 18 flights of stairs. Even the dark overlord was tired of going up and down the tower, further accentuating the lack of an elevator. But we made it, eventually. I showed them in and they immediately got to cuddling waaaay too close for comfort with the death machines. Apparently it was the right call, cuz they were purring up a storm.

The girl harpy, Eehi, nuzzled right up to them. “Ohh, what a strong pair! They’ll be so happy back at the nest. Come along you two!”

She opened the window shutters and beckoned them over. Each griffon placed one hatchling atop the other’s back before they and Eehi leapt out into the night sky. Unkh, the guy harpy, was left to investigate the nest.

“Oh, there’s a runt,” he stated as he plucked a small black form from the nest. “Still breathing I see, a fighter even against the odds. They only raise two, but…” He thought for a moment. “Well, Gods’ Chosen love familiars, so he’s your problem now.”

Unkh shoved the kitten-hatchling-thing into my hands and dove out the window before I could utter a single obscenity. Yeah they’re cute, but hand-rearing a whole-ass griffin is not just something you do out of the goddamn blue.

“What the fuuuuck,” I grumbled, holding a quietly-breathing little thing in my hands. I glanced at Lervan.

“I’m not taking it,” he spouted with raised hands. “Too much paperwork for a protected species!”

I shook my head and took a nice, deep breath. Then I swaddled the guy in a spare pouch. “Bring him downstairs, I need to get the fumigation going.”

……

“And the sinking doom will dissipate in about four hours, at which point you can start opening windows to air the place out. Make the first cheque out to Dennis T Lawson for 8,438 gold. The escrow cheque should be 280,000 gold, which you’ll get back when I confirm you’ve returned the catch-orbs.”

Lervan whistled. “Most expensive. I see the league doesn’t mess around with those.”

“No siree, they’re too expensive. I don’t even own mine. And it’s boot camp brew number seven you want to soak the orbs in. Critters should come out nice and obedient.”

He finished with the cheques and signed them, causing both to disappear. It wasn’t nearly as spectacular as it could have been, since he also banked with the Hells. Instead, it was just some demon scribe changing some numbers - a little too close to home in my opinion. I extended a handshake.

“Good doing business with you.”

“And the same to you,” he answered firmly, yet politely.

……

After much hyperdash and featherweight abuse, (I really should buy the physics engine dinner before I screw it so hard) I arrived in town as most lights were going out. Undeterred, I marched into the one tavern, demanded the room number of the adventurous idiots, and waltzed right up the stairs. I gave the door a good pounding and it was answered by Gina, along with the rest of the party in their assorted bedwear.

“Job’s done, pay up and lemme get outta here.”

The party looked bewildered as they let me in. I plopped onto a chair and handed Kitty off to Gina. Kevin, still half asleep, sat across from me. I leaned forward and got to the point.

“Tower will be open for business the day after tomorrow. Everything should be in order, so the bill comes out to 3,700 gold after everyone else pitched in.”

“What?” Kevin hissed. “Why would we pay so much?”

Gina scratched the hatchling under its beak. “I mean, we got what we wanted, but it is a lot. Anything we can do to lower it a bit?” she inquired hopefully.

I looked at her over the back of the chair. “Uhh, you got a potion of restoration?”

Elaine answered, digging into her alchemy bag. “Yeah, one.”

“Feed it to the little guy and the bill is 2,500. Final offer.”

Kevin thumped the table. “A potion so rare is worth twice that!” he shouted, surely waking other patrons.

I let the silence speak for me as I deadpanned Kevin hard as I could. His rage slowly faded as he knew I could kick his ass—in self-defense—and the rest of his party would probably watch. He put a hand on his head, trying not to sound defeated.

“Fine, 2,500. Where do I sign?”

……

Home again, home again, I thought to myself as I did up the myriad locks behind me. I should have pawned Kitty off on Kevin’s party, but fuck that guy. I wasn’t going to give him something that might grow up to be really cool. I kicked my boots off and headed for the spare room. Varia followed closely behind me, catching the scent of something new.

I opened the door and homed in on the guest bed. I used a tarp and some blankets to make a little nest which Kitty curled up in. He was already a lot chubbier and was breathing better, all thanks to the potion. Then I addressed my roommates.

“Alright, Varia, listen up. I have an assignment for you! This currently-nameless little night griffin is staying with us, and I need you to help keep him warm and fed until I can hire a nanny or something. Snuggle up and warm him through, then get some food from the icebox and feed it to him little strips every so often, got it?”

Varia nodded, making me so happy to have pets with near-people levels of smart. I pointed to the ghost that haunted the house. “Tubur! I need bugs! Until I can get some mice to feed Kitty, I want you to find as many as you can and put them in a cup in the icebox, understood?”

“Underrrsstooooood.”

“Grrreat,” I responded as I disabled the decapitative vorpal wards on the windows, switched off the springloaded trap/ac-unit wand of glacial gusts, and broke the sigil that summoned ethereal bats to eat all the mosquitoes when I wasn’t home.

I soon plopped into my own bed, sans footwarmer. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. Why now? Why is Drominnus calling in that favor?

What’s with all these goddamn favors all of a sudden‽