How are our heroes dealing with their defeat? Did they even really lose?
“What’s my soul like then?”
“Eh, like an Ogress. Big, full of… hard stuff. Pulpy.” Visgali’s abyssal eyes were mesmerizing, but the comparison stung the bartender’s own pride. “You’re a stiff drink, but I need a- a-,” the nightgaunt’s eyelids lulled over as she drifted off to sleep mid-sentence.