Garruk snores under a table with one boot missing.
Borin is attempting to negotiate with a chair that refuses to stand upright.
Arden, holy symbol in hand, is performing divine triage on the world’s worst collective hangover.
Kaer, miraculously pristine, sits at the head of the table with coffee and the facial expression of a man watching a slow-motion disaster he predicted hours ago.
His only words so far:
Kaer: “Told you so.”
And then the twins arrive.
The door bursts open with the force of divine comedy, both Laz and Vex stumbling in like triumphant heroes returning from war — except they’re covered in glitter, one shoe between them, and carrying something.
Something… squirming.
Laz (beaming): “Everyone! Meet our new friend!”
Elaris: “Oh no.”
Sereth: “Oh gods, what did you do?”
The twins part dramatically, and from Laz’s cloak, a small purple weasel wriggles free, landing on the bar counter with a proud squeak.
The entire room freezes.
It’s roughly a foot long, bright violet fur shot through with streaks of shimmering gold.
Its tail is absurdly poofy, and — as if by some eldritch mistake — it’s wearing a tiny leather vest clearly stolen from a doll.
Arden (blinking): “Why… is it purple?”
Vex: “We don’t know!”
Laz: “We love him!”
Kaer: “Kill it before it lays eggs.”
The weasel hisses, baring two tiny, glinting fangs. It leaps onto Kaer’s plate, steals a sausage, and disappears behind Elaris’s chair in one blink.
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Elaris (deadpan): “Congratulations. You’ve summoned a demon.”
Sereth (laughing): “No, I think it’s just you before coffee.”
The creature reappears on the counter, now holding a spoon like a weapon.
It stares at everyone, judging them.
Laz, of course, is delighted.
Laz: “We’re calling him Pancakes!”
Weasel (hissing): “SKREEEEE!”
Vex: “He loves it.”
Borin: “He hates it.”
Garruk (from under the table): “What the hell’s a pancake?”
Arden sighs and mutters a quick incantation, her divine magic flaring briefly as she casts Speak with Animals.
The tavern goes quiet.
She looks the purple menace dead in the eyes.
Arden: “Alright, creature. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
The weasel narrows its tiny, glimmering eyes.
Pancakes (translated): “I am eternal. I was born before breakfast and I will outlast dessert.”
Arden: “I immediately regret this.”
The group erupts in laughter.
Sereth: “Ask it why it’s purple.”
Arden: “Why are you purple?”
Pancakes: “Because destiny feared me in beige.”
Elaris nearly chokes on his tea.
Garruk, now sitting upright, wipes tears from his eyes.
Garruk: “Ask it the meaning of life!”
Arden (sighing): “Fine. What’s the secret of the universe?”
Pancakes: “Snack before battle. Nap after victory.”
The table roars. Borin slams his mug in approval.
Borin: “He’s one of us!”
Kaer: “He’s an abomination.”
Vex: “He’s family now!”
The weasel climbs onto Vex’s shoulder, looks straight at Kaer, and performs what can only be described as an extremely slow blink of dominance.
Kaer glares.
The weasel glares back.
The tension is real.
Elaris (dryly): “I give it three days before it steals your sword.”
Kaer: “It tries, it dies.”
Pancakes (squeaking smugly): “Try me, sunshine.”
And just like that, the purple weasel—Pancakes, self-proclaimed eater of sausages and destroyer of reason—becomes the eighth member of the Crimson Dice.
The laughter fades into a comfortable buzz. The tavern fills again with warmth and light and the faint smell of Kaer’s coffee.
Outside, the town square hums with life.
Inside, for now, there is only this — a ridiculous, imperfect family and their absurd new companion