Wesley seemed unusually cagey when presenting our latest assignment. He muttered something about an emergency, describing the situation as "a little bit of a weird one."

Apparently, several years ago, the region experienced a gnoll infestation that was ultimately resolved by Craigslist.

Yes, that Craigslist. The organization operating out of Dawnwater, and the Springreach Adventurers' Guild's greatest competition.

They also happen to be the band of fools who insist upon meddling in the affairs of my beloved's family. Something will eventually need to be done about them, but today is not that day. We have a mission to attend to.

Our assignment was to infiltrate the Abyss in the Vetranero Mountains and put a stop to the Demogorgon. Apparently, the region had become the source of an increasingly troublesome drug problem.

The journey would take approximately ten days in each direction by horseback.  Naturally, I purchased the Birthday Girl Package from Stablemen's Stables and Carriages. It included a lovely white pony wearing a decorative horn, a magical-looking wand, a birthday girl sash, and a plastic tiara.

During our first night's rest, I took the second watch alongside Talun. At one point, I noticed something twinkling in the bushes and sent him to investigate.  He returned carrying a 25-pound wheel of cheese.  I presented it to Daxo when he awoke. One mustn't squander such generous gifts from the wilderness.

After a lengthy journey following Wesley's rather crude map, we discovered a cave with a sign prominently displaying the words THE ABYSS, accompanied by an arrow pointing inward.

My companions seemed entirely convinced that we had reached our destination.  I found the arrangement suspiciously convenient.  To demonstrate the unreliability of such obvious signage, I pulled the sign from the ground and relocated it.  Unfortunately, the ground promptly gave way beneath us, sending everyone tumbling into a pool of water.  It would appear that we had, in fact, found the correct location.

Rather than the nightmarish landscape I had anticipated, we discovered that the Abyss was operating as a nightclub.

One of the establishment's bouncers was a succubus named Dylan. We learned that the proprietor was none other than the Demogorgon himself.  Admission was 50 gold pieces for gentlemen and 25 for ladies.

Several men outside were smoking a peculiar tar-like substance known as black sap. They recommended it enthusiastically, particularly given the abundance of incubi and succubi employed by the establishment.  I felt a faintly unpleasant sensation, though I couldn't say whether it was the atmosphere or something in the air. Fortunately, I remained quite myself, entirely unmoved by the establishment's more persuasive charms.  A useful quality when surrounded by creatures whose entire profession seems to involve manipulating one's desires.

Inside, we encountered a kenku who offered us tea to aid digestion.  How thoughtful.  The creature also handed me a bag of mushrooms and instructed me to "go and meet god."  The kenku appeared to expect payment, so I provided 10 gold pieces.  My companions unanimously agreed that this was a considerable overpayment. The kenku apparently agreed as well, because I was promptly given an additional bag of mysterious white powder.

Elsewhere, Daxo ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from a chicken.  The sandwich was prepared using clothing irons and contained gouda, caramel, and apples. Daxo appeared to enjoy the experience considerably more than one might reasonably expect.

The establishment's entertainment consisted of mushrooms wired together to produce music, accompanied by numerous reflective surfaces that scattered light throughout the room. The resulting atmosphere was one of frantic, rhythmic stimulation, seemingly designed to overwhelm the senses and discourage rational thought.

We encountered several gentlemen sporting rather magnificent mustaches.  Unfortunately, among them was the mustachioed gentleman responsible for spreading the appalling rumor that I enjoy mustache rides.  I most certainly do not.  There is precisely one face upon which I have any intention of sitting, and it belongs to my beloved. We are monogamous, thank you very much.

Mr. Mustache eventually asked whether I was seeing things.  I pointed to the numerous insects crawling across his arms.  There were none, of course. I was merely testing his lucidity.  Curiously, however, I soon began noticing tiny prismatic insects perched upon the fingertips of various patrons.

Joc learned from the security personnel that the Demogorgon was located in the VIP section.  Unfortunately, admission required 600 gold pieces per person.  We discussed alternative methods of gaining access, as several members of our party lacked the necessary funds.

During this discussion, Joc announced that he was "more of a backdoor entrance kind of guy," although he was willing to go through the front.  I cannot imagine why he felt compelled to introduce his sexual preferences into a conversation about infiltration strategies.  Nevertheless, he certainly had my attention.

Without consulting a single member of the party, Sevas decided that magically charming the security personnel would be an excellent idea.  It was not.  His attempt immediately provoked hostilities.

Aura attempted to distract the guards by transforming into a saber-toothed tiger, leaping into the seating area, and requesting belly rubs from a woman wearing apple-bottom jeans and boots with fur.  The woman graciously obliged.

Unfortunately, the security personnel remained entirely focused on murdering us.  Mr. Mustache began loudly complaining that the Adventurers' Guild ruined everything and that he had merely wanted to enjoy himself. The patrons panicked and fled.  Meanwhile, the chicken frantically attempted to gather its collection of clothing irons.  Absolute chaos.

And all because Sevas couldn't resist charming someone without permission.  The ensuing confrontation eventually left us with a surrendered survivor.  Regrettably, the circumstances set in motion by Sevas necessitated that I execute the gentleman and extract his brain.  Naturally, I consumed the organ using a tiny silver spoon.  And do you know what his brain told me?  The password to the VIP room was "the spiral."

Upon reaching the VIP entrance, we were presented with a rather peculiar question:  "What is the manifestation of manliness, the thing that can pierce the heavens and also power mechs?"  We supplied the appropriate password and were permitted to enter.

Inside, we discovered the Demogorgon, an enormous, two-headed giant surrounded by prostitutes.  "What are you doing in the Demogorgon's den?" he demanded.  He seemed skeptical that we had been granted legitimate entry.  To establish our credibility, he suggested that we partake in recreational drugs with him.  We elected to murder him instead.

As the battle unfolded around me, I found myself studying the Demogorgon with considerable interest.  Despite his position of authority, he did not strike me as a particularly charismatic individual.  Indeed, the people surrounding him appeared far more interested in exploiting his wealth and influence than cultivating any genuine affection for him.  I began to wonder whether the poor creature had ever experienced true friendship.  His involvement in the drug trade had seemingly created an environment in which every relationship was transactional. People approached him for what he could provide, not for who he was.  How terribly lonely.  For a brief moment, I almost pitied him.  Unfortunately, we were rather committed to killing him by that point.

During the battle, Sevas fell victim to a magical enchantment that compelled him to attack his companions.  Joc responded by driving a stake into him.  Once Sevas regained his senses, he inexplicably refused to return the stake.  I suppose everyone deserves a souvenir.

Eventually, the Demogorgon was defeated.  With their employer dead, the prostitutes promptly departed, taking the establishment's remaining drugs with them.  We made no attempt to stop them.

I suspect the regional drug problem may not be entirely resolved, but the immediate threat had certainly been eliminated.  We returned to Springreach and reported our success to Wesley, who compensated us for our efforts.

I have rather special plans for this evening.  I intend to greet my beloved wearing absolutely nothing but my birthday girl sash and plastic tiara.  And, of course, I shall have my new magic wand.  I am terribly curious to discover what Lola might agree to when I give it a little wave.

After all, a birthday girl deserves to have her wishes granted.  Even if it isn't actually her birthday.