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Archive of previous thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5656104/Recap:
So, you arrived in a town, and came across a child that recently found out that he is a changeling. After a bit of a clever switcharoo where you had your mimic eat him to get him out of the public execution, you now have a horrible-looking demon/fairy teenager that's emotionally distraught about the fact he isn't human.
He's probably going to become Paracelsus apprentice.
Anyway, the main reason you went into town at all, however, is the fact that you need a guide for the forests ahead, as going without a guide is tantamount to suicide. You decided to go find a guide in the local tough guy bar.
Bigger recap because it's been so long:
You're a knight who was cursed to turn into a dragon, you adopted a klan of kobolts. They're adorable. You also have a buff plague doctor girlfriend that also ended up cursed when the first magic user you went to went wizard and tried to turn the whole world into dragons, or at least the people she deemed good enough. Now, you went to the legendary country of "Basically Scotland" to find the archmage at the courts, and you found out that this whole country is based around almost religiously revering the king. It caused some trouble.
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The local tough guy bar is, as per usual, not very hard to find. When you spot blood on the front porch, you suspect that you found it. Surprisingly, however, there is also a notice board in front advertising some different mercenary jobs, though that doesn't interest you at the moment. You can't even read the notes anyhow, you're just guessing it's mercenary work from the picture of a sword and the official city stamps on them. Shrugging, you walk towards the door and push it open, Paracelsus being right behind you. Inside, there is a man playing the piano and singing far more soulfully than this place would ever deserve. Two men are across from eachother, sweating and red in the face, with a bowl of strange red fruits between them. Guessing from the stems lying between them and the fact they look like they might explode at any moment, eating that stuff must be unpleasant.
Neither side seems willing to give up on whatever the hell it is they're doing. The next people, however, are playing a more recognizeable, but about as wholesome game of five finger filet. Guessing from the blood on the table, the stakes must be high enough to keep on going even after things have gotten unpleasant.
