Channelknight Fadran

"You can trust that we will definitely try."

There's no such thing as an invitation to this place. I designed it that way to bring friends and allies from afar. You were with me for all that testing, weren't you? You know just as well as I that it'd take a force beyond even yours to actually penetrate my barriers.

"They're creatures from like... half-baked universes. I dunno if there's a capital G "God" out there in charge of the Macrosmos, but if there is then these things probably come from his fever dreams."

My guy, I've been working for three months making sure nothing like the Beorin incident happens again. None of the threats here are actually threatening. "Because you said you'd rather stay here?" Fadran patted the little lad on the head. "Listen. Nothing here is evil. The conditions for entry select against those with premeditated or otherwise detectable levels of malice and hatred. That doesn't technically stop things like ancient drifters and eldritch horrors from coming in, but as long as we keep them nice and cozy downstairs - don't bother them or anything - then they aren't likely to wake from their eternal slumber."

"There was a lot of potentially dangerous stuff going on. I took care of..." Fadran seesawed his hands, "...most of it. The other stuff doesn't come upstairs much."

"That's what's going on?" Fadran pinched the bridge of his nose. What a day. He let out a breath, then looked up again and gave them a small - but heartfelt - smile. "You can absolutely stay here. I recently redid a lot of the defenses, so this place is a lot safer than probably a lot of fortresses."

"Well... thanks, I guess? But please dispose of the corpse in our heavy duty waste bins out back. I don't want another candy cream incident." "Hrm? Hello?" Fadran turned around. "Oh hi."

“Who is—Who was it?”

“…What?”

“Self-defense? When?”

“Yes, actually. Murder is bad, and unproperly-packaged corpses are a Level 1 health code violation.”

“Is that… a dead person?”

Correction: am bad at this “art” thing, Mr. Sequence

“D’you think folks have stopped showing up?” Fadran asked. Icona impressed a kind of mental shrug. Perhaps that’s for the best. ”Then maybe we oughtta see who’s up for an adventure.”

"Down..." Fadran checked the number again. "To your left."

"You can certainly have a room." Fadran handed Gone a key.

"If you want to go. I don't mind."

"What?"

"Can I help you?"

"...Hello?"

"Sure thing." Fadran handed one to him.

"Sure, sure." Fadran handed Pythor a key. "All yours."

"Hm? Oh, dear." Fadran glanced to where she was looking. There was definitely a presence there, though he couldn't see it. "You can certainly stay. Here." He handed her a key.