Member-only story
Phil and Magnus regarded an unassuming bar with an antiquated style picture of a stallion and an onager as it’s only designation.
“It may not look like much” Phil was saying “but it’s the most popular gathering place for the supernatural community in Washington D.C.”
“I get that, it’s fine. I just feel weird. Last time I was in D.C. was for a convention for paleontologists at the Smithsonian. Now I’m gathering to lead a revolution in a bar called the horse’s ass.”
“This isn’t the revolution. This is just the recruiting drive man. Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a drama queen?”
“All the time” Magnus said with a slight smile thinking of his former Dark Elf mistress. She had flayed him often, occasionally with words and drama queen had featured prominently in her critiques, once she’d learned the term. The beautiful sorceress and former death priestess had little tolerance for sentimentality.
“Well they’re right. Now come on, and don’t bother to hide your stump. This is a crowd that appreciates battle scars.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“I’ve performed in every dive supernatural bar up and down this coast.”
“It’s always an education following you around Phil.”
