Bubastis Slaughtermouth grimaced as the fair Eustachia sobbed in terror into his sturdy iron cuirass. Dust fell from the rafters of the ancient tavern as the swarm of squirrelcrabs picked at the adobe mudbrick walls. Bubastis had shoved several large oaken tables up against the tavern’s doors and windows, but it was only a matter of time before the vermin gnawed and burrowed their way in.
Eustachia looked up at him with tearstained eyes and howled incomprehensibly in frantic terror.
“Hush, my pet. This isn’t the first time old Bubastis has found himself in a jam.” He smirked, revealing his newly extended golden fangs. They shimmered in the light from a nearby oil lamp. Eustachia’s sobbing ceased. Her eyes widened and she gasped in awe.
“That’s right, darling. I am… a Werelock. In times of need, I can call upon my lupine sorcery.”
Eustachia quivered and fainted into Bubastis’s lap. He arose, and carried her limp form across the room and placed her gingerly atop the bar. The annoying rattle of the squirrelcrab assault had risen to a deafening din of hissing and clicking and scratching.
Bubastis swished his cape aside and drew his sword. His eyes glowed purple as he began to call on arcane wolfmagick.
Then, with a crash, someone fell through the skylight. Bubastis turned to see a hulking figure getting to its feet.
“It’s YOU!” He exclaimed.
“Yes. Bubastis, it is I… Yóndön Råmdöndômmülon”