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

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

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." 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?" The bartender stared

"Exactly," Malphas chuckled. "And we were still ten minutes early for happy hour." And for me

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."

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

Malphas took a massive swig of the liquid fire and grinned, showing too many teeth. "Because, Princess... the Dark Lord might be coming for your kingdom, and the Void might be swallowing the Elven forests, but even the apocalypse needs a designated driver."