The Unmaker Claims the Throne

The portal delivers Delfarius, Pistol, Stabby McStabbson, Repine, Cox, and Rocket into a crowded hall of mismatched stone and timber. Charms flicker unpredictably above adventurers trading rumors.

Pistol darts toward a crowded refreshment table, Cox perched on her wrist and Rocket clinging to her shoulder. Purple sparks skip harmlessly across the hanging charms.

Stabby McStabbson prowls between benches, inspecting every belt pouch within reach. Repine follows Delfarius closely, while unfamiliar magic makes his blue eyes narrow.

A young half-orc woman notices the unusual map glowing in Pistol’s hands. Teal hair frames her alert face as she approaches, one hand resting near her travel gear.

Delfarius looks down, and Repine understands the silent permission. The shadow hound folds soundlessly into his master’s darkness, unseen by mortal eyes and senses.

Delfarius sighs, settles himself into the guise of an ordinary mortal man, and turns with a smirk toward Pistol and the teal-haired adventurer. He has always liked teal.

Delfarius chuckles at the innocent explanation. Vrsha catches the adult joke beneath it, glancing from Pistol’s pocket to the little black squirrel with sudden amusement.

Delfarius raises an eyebrow and smiles with effortless charm. The crowded hall’s shifting lights catch his ordinary mortal guise, while the map glows innocently in Pistol’s hands.

Vrsha studies his smile, then the children and their small companions. Her suspicion loosens, replaced by professional curiosity and the unmistakable interest of an adventurer hearing about unexplored ground.

Pistol hugs the map closer, beaming. Vrsha laughs softly at Stabby’s declaration, now fully accepting the relic’s harmless story and regarding Delfarius as a charming, unusually generous traveler.

Delfarius raises his eyes from Vrsha’s chest to her teal gaze, his ordinary mortal smile turning quietly charming. The hall’s shifting lights glimmer across his composed face.

Vrsha steps nearer, her professional curiosity softened by unmistakable interest. She gestures toward the glowing map, already treating the expedition as a shared opportunity rather than a stranger’s errand.

Delfarius gives Cox a subtle glance. The inky squirrel chitters, swells just enough to catch Pistol’s attention, and scampers toward a nearby rack of travel gear.

Pistol brightens and hurries after Cox, Rocket peeking from her pocket. Stabby McStabbson follows at once, rummaging among packs and loudly declaring each buckle potential treasure.

With the pair distracted, Delfarius walks closer to Vrsha beneath the hall’s shifting charms. To mortal eyes he remains only a composed traveler, his smirk quietly inviting.

Delfarius’s smirk widens as his gaze lingers over Vrsha, openly appreciative beneath the hall’s shifting charms. Her professional composure warms into unmistakable amusement.

Vrsha steps closer, lowering her voice while Pistol and Stabby remain occupied among the packs. Her hand rests lightly against the map’s edge, near Delfarius’s sleeve.

Across the hall, Cox darts beneath a rack, drawing Pistol’s delighted pursuit, while Stabby argues with a pack buckle. Vrsha’s eyes remain fixed on Delfarius.

Delfarius leans close to Vrsha’s face, wearing a coy smile beneath his ordinary mortal guise. The hall’s charms flicker softly around their private exchange.

Vrsha’s fingers brush his sleeve as she turns toward the stair. Her professional amusement has become warmer, while the expedition waits safely beyond the crowded hall.

Across the room, Pistol laughs as Cox emerges from beneath the gear rack, and Stabby loudly claims a brass buckle as mayoral equipment. Neither looks toward the stairs.

Delfarius lowers his eyes to Cox for a heartbeat. No gesture betrays the command, yet the inky squirrel understands: keep Pistol and Stabby entertained for thirty minutes.

Cox slips from Pistol’s wrist and darts between the gear racks, leaving a trail of harmless shadow-buckles. Pistol laughs and follows, while Stabby charges after him, shouting about stolen mayoral treasure.

Delfarius follows Vrsha up the narrow stair, mortal to every watching eye and sense. His disguise remains flawless, and the sight below amuses him privately: effortless control, perfectly maintained.

Vrsha opens a cedar door into a warm, private room marked with faded expedition notes. Its warding charm seals softly behind them, while a brass sandglass begins measuring their promised half hour.

Delfarius leans into Vrsha and kisses her, his mortal guise flawless as his practiced skill leaves her breathless. Her sharp tusks catch him by surprise.

He pulls back with an amused laugh, studying her teal eyes at close range. The sealed room holds only their shared breath and the soft turning of the sandglass.

Vrsha touches one tusk with a fingertip, then rests her hand against his chest. Her professional composure has vanished into bright, delighted curiosity.

Downstairs, Cox’s shadow-buckles clatter as Pistol and Stabby continue their noisy search. The ward keeps the room private, and the sandglass steadily marks their borrowed half hour.

Delfarius slips off his robes and stands before her in black silk pants, his mortal guise presenting an extraordinarily alluring man. He glances at the sandglass with a knowing smirk.

Vrsha laughs, bright and unguarded, then lies back upon the bed. The cedar room’s ward seals more firmly, keeping their private diversion separate from the expedition below.

She draws him down with a confident hand. The sandglass continues its quiet turning while their hurried intimacy unfolds behind the sealed ward, warm laughter mingling with the muffled clatter downstairs.

By the time the final grains settle, Vrsha reclines against the pillows, teal hair tousled and amusement shining in her eyes. Delfarius’s disguise remains flawless.

Delfarius looks over Vrsha beneath the blankets, smiling at her exhausted satisfaction. He leans down and gives her another passionate kiss, remaining perfectly composed in his mortal guise.

Without disturbing the disguise, Delfarius reaches into the pocket of void he keeps concealed and draws out his multicolored mod vape. Its shifting colors glow softly in his hand.

He takes a small pull, calm and untroubled, then lets the faintly colored vapor fade into the cedar room. To Vrsha’s senses, he remains entirely mortal and untouched.

The sandglass lies empty beside the bed. Beyond the sealed door, muffled clattering suggests Pistol and Stabby are still occupied, leaving Vrsha’s private room quiet for their next move.

Delfarius takes another measured puff from the multicolored mod vape and smirks, his mortal guise remaining calm and entirely convincing. The last vapor curls toward the rafters.

Vrsha gathers her teal hair over one shoulder and sits up, amusement bright in her eyes. Beyond the sealed door, Pistol and Stabby continue their noisy search below.

The empty sandglass rests beside the bed. Vrsha reaches for her travel clothes, ready to lead him downstairs and toward Tremble’s eastern wayhouse once he answers.

Delfarius says it with a smirk, his mortal guise flawless to every sense. He sits on the bed’s edge, watching Vrsha gather her clothes and test her balance.

Vrsha plants both feet on the cedar floor and rises. Her knees waver, but she steadies herself against the bedpost, then straightens with determined amusement.

She takes two careful steps toward her travel clothes, pauses until the room settles, and manages a graceful turn back toward him.

Delfarius makes an amused, pointed sound toward Vrsha’s wavering legs, then takes another measured puff from the multicolored device. He lets the vapor fade into the cedar room.

A small fold of Void opens beside his hand. With the ease of a simple conjurer’s trick, he places the device within it, and the fold vanishes without a trace.

Vrsha lowers herself carefully onto the bed, gathering her clothes beside her. Her balance has returned enough for comfort, but she accepts the pause with a crooked smile.

A trace of Delfarius’s true arrogance sharpens the words. He rises, crosses the cedar room, and by the door settles completely into a mortal guise, leaving only the faint scent of void-vapor behind.

Vrsha’s suspicion does not harden into distrust, but her eyes linger on him longer than before. The cost of his confidence is clear: she will watch his secrets more closely.

Delfarius opens the door and steps into the guild corridor, his ordinary mortal appearance flawless. Below, Pistol’s laughter and Stabby’s complaints announce that the pair are still sorting gear.

Delfarius closes the cedar door behind him and descends the guild stairs in his flawless mortal guise. Below, laughter and the clatter of buckles greet him.

Pistol, Stabby McStabbson, Rocket, and Cox have transformed the gear rack into a glittering hoard of packs, cloaks, ropes, lanterns, and polished tools.

Stabby hugs a bundle of straps while brass buckles hang from his belt. Rocket chatters from Pistol’s pocket, and Cox rides proudly upon her wrist.

Cox swells briefly to the size of a small hound, then curls back around Pistol’s wrist. She beams, while Stabby raises a stolen-looking lantern like a royal trophy.

Delfarius laughs and crosses the guild hall toward the innkeeper’s desk, remaining an entirely ordinary mortal to every watching eye and sense.

He places the gold on the counter with little ceremony. The innkeeper counts it, accepts the arrangement, and passes over a single brass room key.

Delfarius returns to the glittering gear hoard and offers the key to Pistol and Stabby, while packs, ropes, lanterns, and buckles gleam around them.

Pistol accepts the key with both hands, and Cox curls proudly around her wrist. Stabby immediately gathers his bundles, trying to carry everything at once.

Delfarius stops him and takes the satchel. Shadow folds inward beneath its worn leather, opening a quiet private void pocket that does not disturb the bag’s mortal appearance.

Delfarius places the magic satchel into Stabby’s eager hands. The goblin plunges each pack, rope, lantern, and buckle inside, watching the bag swallow everything without growing heavier.

Glee washes across Stabby’s face. Delfarius looks toward Cox, and the inky squirrel catches the silent instruction, springing from his wrist toward Pistol’s key.

Cox snatches the brass key and darts toward the stairs. Pistol laughs and follows, while Stabby races after him, clutching the enchanted satchel and shouting about mayoral treasure.

Delfarius watches them vanish upstairs, laughter lingering in the guild hall. He orders coffee, then settles alone into a booth, his mortal guise flawless to every eye and sense.