A Princess, An: Elf, And A Demon Walk Into A Bar...

First came . She didn’t "walk" so much as glide, her silk skirts trailing over sawdust and spilled ale with an air of profound disappointment. She was followed by Thandriel , an Elf who looked like he’d been carved out of moonlight and condescension. Bringing up the rear was Malphas , a Demon whose presence made the room five degrees hotter and smelled vaguely of sulfur and expensive cigars.

"We got ale and 'The Special,'" the bartender grunted, polishing a mug with a rag that was arguably filthier than the glass.

The bartender stared. Malphas leaned over, his horns narrowly missing a low-hanging chandelier. "Give 'em the rotgut, barkeep. And for me? Whatever you use to strip the paint off those wagons outside. Make it a double." The Punchline A Princess, an Elf, and a Demon Walk Into a Bar...

As they sat on stools that groaned under their collective cosmic weight, Elara looked at her companions. "We are a disgraced royal, an exiled immortal, and a literal manifestation of sin. Why are we here again?"

Thandriel sighed, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "Typical. My people were distilling starlight while your ancestors were still discovering the wheel. I’ll have a dew-drop nectar, chilled to the temperature of a winter’s morning in the Elder Woods." First came

Thandriel looked at his murky ale, then at the Demon. "I am not driving the carriage, Malphas. The last time you 'navigated,' we ended up in the Third Circle of Hell."

The flickering neon sign outside didn’t discriminate, but the trio currently standing at the threshold was testing the structural integrity of the "All Realms Welcome" policy. Bringing up the rear was Malphas , a

The Princess approached the bar, tapping a manicured finger on the sticky wood. "A glass of your finest vintage," she commanded. "Preferably one that hasn’t been used to clean a boot."