Fafhrd the Barbarian yanked his axe out of the undead’s skull and looked around. There were still way too many of them; while the skeletons or dead villagers didn’t pose much of a threat, the orcs were different. Even after death, they still remembered how to form a wall of shields, not to mention the fact that they were armed better than the rest.
“I’ll murder that halfling!” Sour screamed, shooting arrow after arrow at the incoming skeletons. “They will never find the body!”
“Charlene, hide!” the innkeeper exclaimed, producing a long, rusty sword. “No worries, gentlemen. I used to be an adventurer, like you.”
“Did you take an arrow to the knee?” Lemon asked.
“No, I got married,” the innkeeper replied, swinging the sword and cutting a halfling skeleton in half. “On a second thought, an arrow to the knee would’ve been preferable.”
Fafhrd spun the axe, beheading one of the orcs. The head rolled on the ground, but the rest of the body didn’t notice that, still attacking the barbarian. Fafhrd groaned, kicking the orc, who finally dropped to his knees, looking for his head until one of Sour’s arrows finished him off.
“We need to hide inside the inn,” Gmork said, throwing a vial of acid at the attackers. “Then we can make it our fortress.”
“Fortress or a last stand?” Sour asked. “Also, where’s Gray Mouser? I need to kill him before they kill us.”
“I need to get my pony!” Lemon exclaimed.
“Wait, your pony survived the chuul attack?” Fafhrd asked.
“Yes, in my luggage!”
Sour rolled her eyes. “That’s not how ponies work, you know.”
“Whatever!” Lemon shouted. “Hmm, seducing doesn’t work on the undead, right?”
“The relevant organs no longer work.” Fafhrd hit one of the executioner’s assistants in the crotch with his axe. “Or sometimes they don’t have them.”
“If only I could use Fire Tornado,” Lemon muttered. “Maybe I’ll try?”
“This won’t work!” Sour exclaimed. The orcs nearly surrounded her and she was slowly running out of arrows. She threw a knife at one of them, but it only slowed him down. “We’d better get inside and come up with a plan.”
“Run for the inn!” The innkeeper stood alongside Fafhrd with the sword in his hand. “I’ll stop them.”
“For how long?” Fafhrd asked.
“Long enough!” The innkeeper spun in place, beheading two orcs. With another swing of the sword, he crushed a skeleton’s skull, but more and more enemies charged at him. Fafhrd was the last to flee, having gotten a spear to the arm, but the innkeeper still stood, wounded. He let out a battle cry, charging at the incoming enemies as if he was going to bring them all down.
He was instantly proven wrong. A blow of an orc sword chopped his arm off and when he dropped to his knees, the undead immediately overwhelmed him, rushing towards the inn.
Fafhrd closed the door, barricading them with one of the tables. Still, the old planks barely survived the first hit by the incoming mass of zombies. More hits followed; the barbarian held the door, but it was clear it wouldn’t last long.
“What now?” Gmork asked. “The innkeeper’s dead and we’re surrounded here. And of course, we’re fucked once they get inside. And Gray Mouser, of course, is hiding under the table.”
“Where?” Sour exclaimed. She rushed to the table and grabbed the halfling, dropping him on the counter and aiming one of her knives at his eye. “Okay, little shit, I’m gonna give you a choice. Which body part should I cut off first?”
“I won’t help you if I’m dead,” Gray Mouser muttered. “Maybe I can still control them, you know.”
“Until the next time you fail at that?” Sour shouted. “I may just throw you to them, you little–”
“Uhh… A little help here?” Fafhrd asked. The door already had several holes, the undead putting their hands in them. The barbarian managed to cut some of them off, but it was clear the inn wouldn’t hold for much longer.
“I can throw a halfling at them,” Sour replied.
Lemon stood up. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m trying the Fire Tornado.”
“Twilight won’t let you do this,” Fafhrd replied, slamming his axe into the face of some undead. “Unless you get some epic dice roll or something.”
“I’m gonna try.”
Gmork rushed to the stairs. “In case ye fail, I’m bringing my barrels.”
“Okay.” Lemon smirked. “Pass me the dice…”
Twilight shook her head and sighed. “Okay, I’ll let you try that just once. Also, if you fail this roll, your situation won’t improve, I guarantee that.”
“Whatever.” Lemon grabbed the dice and rolled them across the table. “I can’t be worse than Sugarcoat when it comes to bad rolls.”
Twilight looked at the dice and her eyes widened. “Well, you actually succeeded. Somehow.”
Juniper nodded. “So, we’re in the inn surrounded by zombies… But now it’s also on fire?”
“The zombies are on fire too,” Lemon replied. “So that’s good, I think…”
The inn was on fire. The front wall had already collapsed, letting the undead inside. Lemon ran across the room, surrounded by the blazing aura of a Fire Tornado, trying to ignite as many enemies as she could. Fafhrd the Barbarian let out a battle cry and swung the battle axe into the skull of another undead, spraying the bits of bone and brain around.
“Stop it!” Fafhrd shouted, yanking the axe out. “I have no fire resistance!”
“If that’s any consolation, this damn halfling doesn’t either.” Sour aimed her bow, shooting one of the undead in the throat. It didn’t faze them at all, though; the pale silhouette charged at them, swiftly avoiding both the fire and Fafhrd’s axe.
“Do something!” Gray Mouser, left forgotten by Sour, yelled from under the table, watching as the undead warrior shrugged off all of Sour’s arrows, baring his fangs and hissing at them.
“What?” Fafhrd asked. “It’s your army, isn’t it? You’re the undead expert here!”
“Not mine anymore!” the halfling exclaimed. “Also, where’s Gmork?”
“Here I am!” Gmork dashed from the upstairs, holding a barrel in her hands. She rushed at the undead, hurling the barrel in their direction. “This should teach them!”
“What’s in the barrel?” Sour asked, watching as the barrel knocked their opponent down and rolled further, catching fire.
“Ye know, stuff.” Gmork shrugged. “I mean, this probably shouldn’t–”
The barrel hit the wall, breaking and falling apart.
Then, without any warning, the inn exploded.
Twilight looked at the dice and her notes scattered on the table. “Okay, this went better than expected,” she said. “Indigo, you wake up on the tree far away from the inn. Most of your equipment is scattered along the way, but you’re also down to one hit point, so you’d better watch out.”
“Just great,” Indigo muttered. “So, am I the only survivor? I need to find the party to continue the mission, I guess.”
“It’s not that bad,” Twilight replied. “When you regain consciousness, you see Araralei the Sour Elf, her clothes torn and burned, staggering around half-consciously.”
“I’d rather not look,” Indigo muttered. “If I’m down to one hit point, seeing a half-naked elf may kill me.”
“Don’t worry, she’s bleeding and looks definitely unsexy, with a piece of broken beam sticking out of her thigh.”
“The only piece of wood that ever ended up in her.” Lemon chuckled.
“Shut up,” Sour muttered. “Where’s Sugarcoat? I need to check if she’s fine… and then put her out of her misery!”
“You probably won’t have a chance,” Twilight replied. “Charlene also survived and is taking care of her. It seems that she lost an eye, but she should be fine.”
“What about me?” Sunny asked. “I mean, I did want to make a run for the window, but I have short legs and–”
“You’re unconscious, lying under the bodies of two dead orcs,” Twilight said.
Juniper smirked. “New TV show, coming soon: Two and a Half Orcs.”
“I hope you’re not going to become a comedian,” Sunny deadpanned.
“Hey, it was fine,” Sugarcoat said. “Also, at least Lemon got rid of all those undead. Let’s get together and we can–”
“Well, Lemon’s dead,” Twilight said.
“What?” Lemon asked. “How am I dead?”
“Well, you were in the middle of a Fire Tornado when Sunny threw a barrel of gunpowder at it,” Twilight replied. “You’re pretty much all over the place.”
“Oh, come on!” Lemon exclaimed. “Sugarcoat failed a roll, I got an awesome roll and I die while she’s alive!? How did this happen?”
Twilight shrugged. “Well, the dice demanded a sacrifice, I guess.”
“I’m gonna sacrifice Sugarcoat to them!” Lemon stood up. Indigo and Sour grabbed her, pulling her away from Sugarcoat.
“Hey, chill out,” Indigo said. “Violence is not the answer.”
“Yeah, that,” Sugarcoat said. “I mean, it’s not my fault that Lemon decided to use magic that’s well beyond her level…”
“So did you,” Lemon spat.
“Yes, but necromancy is a normal thing. Fire Tornado is a homebrew spell,” Sugarcoat replied. “Of course there was going to be punishment, so you should–”
“Shut up, Sugarcoat,” Sour muttered. “Or I’ll let Lemon go.”
“I might let her go for fun.” Indigo shrugged.
“Hey!” Sunny exclaimed. “No fighting in my house!”
“Yeah, exactly.” Sugarcoat stood up. “Violence is never the– aargh!” she screamed when Lemon pinned her to the ground.
“Why did you let her go?” Twilight asked, watching Sunny trying to separate Lemon and Sugarcoat. The only result she achieved was getting elbowed by Lemon and punched by Sugarcoat, who then proceeded to yank each other’s hair.
Indigo shrugged. “It’s like hockey fights. Lemon has to get rid of negative energy to achieve zen or something.” She looked at Juniper. “It’s called zen, right?”
“Yes,” Juniper replied. “Well, first time I see someone mixing it with hockey, but I guess that’s how you roll.”
“Yeah, I guess we’ll finish for today.” Twilight shook her head, watching the fight. It wasn’t much of a fight anymore – once Sunny managed to regain her breath, she finished it by grabbing a katana from her closet. This alone was enough for Lemon and Sugarcoat to realise that it was time to run for their lives. Sunny with anything sharp was a danger to anyone, including, unfortunately, herself.
“Definitely,” Sunny said. “We’ll meet once Lemon has a new character and everyone learns not to behave like a baboon who found a plane full of cocaine that crashed in the Uruguayan jungle.” She swung the katana and accidentally cut herself in the leg. “Ouch. Do I have to get a tetanus shot again?”
“No,” Sour replied. “You only need one every ten years.”
“Also, baboons live in Africa,” Twilight said. “Not to mention that of all the South American countries, you chose the one with almost no forests.”
“Happens to the best of us.” Sunny shrugged. “Still, Lemon needs a new character.” She looked at her leg again. “Wait, is that blood?”
“I already have an idea,” Lemon said, ignoring the fact that Sunny passed out; Indigo managed to catch her before she fell to the ground. “I mean, the innkeeper’s daughter survived, right?”
“Yes,” Twilight replied.
Lemon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this is gonna be fun…”
The shopping mall was pretty crowded, although the store Twilight and Sunset went to wasn’t exactly filled with people. Twilight looked around, furrowing her eyebrows, and shot Sunset a glare.
“Okay, I don’t get it,” she said. “Why are we checking out, uhh… lingerie?”
“When you called me, you mentioned Timber and something about a gift.” Sunset shrugged. “You woke me up, so I may have gotten the details wrong.”
Twilight sighed. “I said that Timber called, telling me that it’s Gloriosa’s birthday soon. I mean, I could technically buy her some sexy lingerie, but I’m not sure how would she take it.”
“Oh.” Sunset smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, that’d be pretty awkward, I guess. Not to mention that we don’t know, I’d say, the exact size.” She shrugged.
“Well, the problem is, I have no idea what else can I buy her,” Twilight said. “It’s easier to think what not to buy her, like a trip to the spa, or a new edition of Kill It and Grill It, or–”
“Yeah, that sounds more like something for Applejack.” Sunset chuckled. “As for Gloriosa, I– hey!” She staggered when someone bumped into her, rushing towards Twilight.
“Hi, Twilight!” Lemon exclaimed. “I finally found you. Do you know that your phone doesn’t work? You didn’t pick any of my calls.”
“Well, if you didn’t call me at 3 AM…” Twilight sighed. “What do you want?”
“I came up with a backstory for Charlene,” Lemon replied, opening her backpack and producing a large pile of papers from it. “I mean, her father was an adventurer before becoming an innkeeper, right? So, when he was adventuring, he actually met a female Wu-Jen Mystic and you can read about the rest here.” She smirked. “With details and stuff.”
“Do I want to know?” Sunset asked. “I mean, Juniper mentioned someone called Charlene in one of her more cryptic tweets recently, but I assumed she went full Hollywood and got high or something.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” Twilight replied. “Remember that one time we were playing that game where Rarity and Rainbow Dash got into a fight over who killed a dragon? You said you have something similar at home, didn’t you?”
“Ogres and Oubliettes, yeah.” Sunset nodded. “Though I liked it more when we let Pinkie be a GM and played that one with vampires in the title. You know, when we all played as murderous vampire clowns and it turned out that it was Pinkie’s plan to lure us into some kind of a clown-themed orgy.”
“We agreed not to speak of this ever again,” Twilight muttered. “As for you, Lemon, I guess I’ll take a look at it. One day. Will Sunny even let us come to her house again?”
“Not exactly,” Lemon replied. “But we can meet on Saturday at my place, you know.”
“That’s great,” Twilight said. “I guess.”
“Cool.” Lemon smirked. “Oh, by the way, if you buy something here, you can put it on when you come to me.”
Twilight facepalmed. “Lemon…”
Unlike Sunny’s basement, Lemon’s room was bright and spacious, lit by numerous lamps resembling Chinese lanterns. Its brick walls were reminding the visitors that before being turned into a loft apartment, the place used to be a sawmill. When Twilight walked inside, she counted at least three guitars and a keyboard. She suspected there were more instruments in the large closet, although her friends had other ideas.
“There’s no giant singing head inside, right?” Sunny asked, putting on a football helmet she found lying on Lemon’s bed and sitting by the keyboard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lemon replied.
“We had to get rid of the closet,” Sour said. “There wasn’t enough place after the twins got born.”
“That’s why we’re at my place and not yours.” Lemon opened the closet which, as Twilight suspected, contained some more instruments, including a mandolin, assortment of various drums, and a trumpet, as well as some completely random items like a tennis racket and a large collection of beer bottles. Twilight couldn’t remember if she had ever seen Lemon playing tennis.
Indigo sat on the bean bag chair and looked around Lemon’s room. “I’m getting uncomfortable, vampire-related flashbacks,” she said, looking into the bag she’d brought with herself. “Does anyone want some red curry from that new Thai place?”
“Did you decide to check out every single restaurant in this town before we end this campaign?” Sugarcoat asked.
Indigo shrugged. “More for me, then.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want curry.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes and grabbed a plastic container from Indigo’s bag. “It’s both a fantasy adventure and a culinary one.”
“Speaking of, I hope you’re not allergic to shrimp,” Indigo said.
“Surprisingly not,” Sugarcoat replied. “Those who hoped for a trip to the ER may express their disappointment now.”
Sunny turned to the keyboard and played the four notes that, as far as she could tell, resembled the sad trombone most.
“Okay, are you ready to start?” Twilight asked. “Juniper said she’d be late, but since Lemon took over Charlene’s character, we won’t need her for a while.”
“We can start, yeah,” Lemon said. “By the way, did you read that backstory?”
“I didn’t finish it yet,” Twilight replied.
Lemon smirked. “Good…”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Fafhrd muttered, looking at the black robe. It was far too small for him, not to mention that he couldn’t quite hide all of his weapons under it.
“Well, defeating them with force encountered technical difficulties,” Gray Mouser muttered. The halfling was the only one without a disguise, although his black robe was indistinguishable from the robes they had picked after a fight with the cultists. Still, he used fabric from one of the spare robes to make himself an eyepatch. “We need to be sneaky.”
“As if anyone is going to believe I’m a drow,” Sour muttered.
“Actual elves can join the cult too, I guess.” Gmork replied. “But I’m gonna ask our cultist expert.” He turned to Charlene, who shrugged and looked at the pony named Lyra Heartstrings, who somehow survived the undead attack without a scratch.
“Ironic,” Sour muttered. “The only person who basically lives near those cultists and could tell us more about them is a damn mute.”
Charlene sighed and showed Sour what she thought of her with a middle finger.
“I guess she and her father had some sort of a sign language,” Indigo said.
“We could ask her father, but there isn’t enough of him left,” Gray Mouser muttered, climbing up the hill. “Where is those cultists’ camp? I can’t see it from here.”
“Try with the other eye,” Sour muttered. “Also, what kind of sign language? It’s freaking Middle Ages.”
Fafhrd smirked. “Back in our mountain village, we had a mute warrior who used gestures. I might try them and see if they work.”
“Did you come up with that yourself or was it a dice roll?” Sour asked. “Wait, who am I kidding…”
Fafhrd turned to Charlene and made a few wide gestures.
Charlene gestured back. Tell the fucking elf bitch that I’ll stick one of her arrows up her arse when she falls asleep.
Fafhrd smirked. “She doesn’t like you, Sour Elf.”
“You’re making this up, don’t you?” Sour asked.
Gmork sighed. “Ask ‘er about them cultists.”
Charlene looked at the half-orc and made a few more gestures. Dad never let me try to seduce them. Not that they were interested.
“Her father didn’t want cultist grandkids,” Fafhrd said.
“You’re just making this up.” Sour rolled her eyes. “I can make gestures like this too.” She waved her hands.
“Careful,” Fafhrd muttered. “That’s offensive to both goats and halflings.”
Gray Mouser turned to Sour. “What did you just say?”
“I have no idea!” Sour exclaimed.
“For the sake of our sanity, let’s just assume the barbarian understands what the girl is saying and move on,” Gmork said. “Also, how are we even going to convince the cultists that we’re their friends?”
“With sass and hand gestures.” Sour rolled her eyes and swung her hand randomly.
“No, I don’t think goats can do that,” Fafhrd said. “Also, Charlene asks why do you keep talking about goats.”
Maybe they smell like her house, Charlene gestured.
“That was low.” Fafhrd chuckled. “Guess we’ll do better if we find some cultists ourselves.”
“Assuming we don’t get killed by chuuls or other shit,” Sour muttered.
“If there’s a cultist camp nearby, there shouldn’t be any,” Gray Mouser said. “They probably scare them away, somehow. Or possibly they cooperate.”
“Then we’ll end up as chuul food,” Gmork said.
Fafhrd shook his head. “Always an optimist…”
After a few hours of wandering down the valley, getting closer and closer to the mysterious rock, Sour finally saw the smoke coming from behind a small hill. She produced her bow, just in case the camp was guarded, but then she remembered they were supposed to be one of them. Still, she decided to keep the bow ready, just in case something went wrong.
However, everything was going smoothly. The camp was indeed guarded, although Sour managed to spot the guards before they spotted her. Mainly because they turned out to be a pair of halflings.
“Welcome, brothers and sisters!” one of the halflings raised his hand when the group emerged from the bushes in front of him. His black robe was dirty; Sour identified traces of at least ten meals on it. He was also smoking a pipe he was sharing with his companion. “I don’t think I know you, guys. Are you from Hunzrin’s group?”
“No, not really,” Sour replied.
“Good,” the other halfling said. “Hunzrin is pretty pissed since some bunch of tramps kicked the Chandara’s group’s collective asses. He said that if he finds those tramps, he’ll skin them.”
“Really touchy guys, those drows.” The first halfling shrugged.
“No wonder,” his friend said. “Did you hear what they did to Ghanduar? They cut off his leg and blew his head to smithereens.”
“Oh, Hunzrin doesn’t have to bother anymore,” Sour said. “The chuuls ate those guys. We even stole a pony from them.”
“Nice,” the halfling said. “Hunzrin will be glad to hear that once he comes back from the patrol. What are your names, brothers and sisters?”
“Araralei,” Sour replied.
“Known as the Sour Elf.” Fafhrd smirked. “I’m Fafhrd the former barbarian, who decided to find solace in religion.”
“Gmork, same here,” Gmork said.
“Gray Mouser,” Gray Mouser muttered, hiding behind Fafhrd. “And this is Charlene.”
“Finnan Tealeaf, at your service,” the first halfling said.
“Perrin Tosscobble, Finnan’s second cousin,” the other halfling introduced himself. “What brought you here? Finnan and I never thought we’d join such a cult. I mean, not after–”
“Wait.” Finnan furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Gray Mouser. “Jolly Sackville-Baggins? Is that you? I didn’t recognise you with that eyepatch!”
“Oh, sh–” Gray Mouser cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. “Finnan? Long time no see! Nice to see you also found the light of, uhh… Whatever our new god is called.”
Perrin stood up, crossing his arms. “Well, I find it surprising to see you here, after you sacrificed little Shaena Tealeaf to Tharizdun. If I recall correctly, we were supposed to burn you but this big guy fucked up and–” He paused and looked at Fafhrd. “Oh.”
“Fucking halflings…” Sour muttered, kicking Perrin Tosscobble in the face. He dropped on the ground, unconscious, while Fafhrd smacked Finnan, sending him flying. The halfling landed in the thorny bushes a few yards away and rolled on the ground where he lay unconscious.
“Do we kill them?” Gmork asked.
“Nah, doesn’t seem right,” Fafhrd said.
“Then what do we do?” Gray Mouser asked. “It’s gonna be hard to explain that to other cultists.”
Sour smirked. “Trust me…”
The camp consisted of a couple of tents standing around the campfire. Most of the cultists were sitting or lying around it, waiting for the food to cook. Only some of them noticed Araralei the Sour Elf as she walked into the camp, her robe waving dramatically in the wind. She was followed by Fafhrd, who was carrying two unconscious halflings, each of them in one hand.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Sour exclaimed, kicking the nearest cultist. “What is it? A camp or a fucking school trip? Where’s Hunzrin? I much desire to speak to him.”
“He’s hunting the people who killed Chandara’s group,” one of the cultists replied.
Sour rolled her eyes. “You wanted to say, ‘tries to fix Chandara’s fuck ups’, right? And in the meantime, while surrounded by enemies, you’re chilling out, leaving only mister Teapot and mister Tosspot as the guards?” She pointed at Fafhrd, who dropped the halflings on the ground.
“They volunteered,” a dwarf cultist said.
“Because no one else could be arsed to guard the camp?” Sour pointed at Charlene. “She’s one of the members of the inner circle and she’s very angry, you know? When she starts to yell at you, you’d rather not be here!”
“We have an inner circle?” one of the cultists asked.
“Of course we do!” Gray Mouser exclaimed. “It just isn’t a proper cult without one.”
“Why weren’t we told about it?” another cultist exclaimed.
“It’s supposed to be kept in secret, but you’re a bunch of idiots,” Sour replied. “When will Hunzrin come back? I don’t want to talk with you idiots, but with him and him alone!”
“His group is searching the swamps,” the dwarf cultist said. “It’s kinda hard since at night chuuls get crazy in there.”
“Oh, the chuuls actually claimed your adventurers,” Sour said. “Only this pony survived.”
“I don’t know.” The cultist by the campfire stood up. He was a tiefling, though slightly bigger and less humanlike than Lemon. “If they managed to crush Chandara’s group and almost blow up her ass, I don’t think they’d get eaten by chuuls just like that.”
Isn’t a little bit too intelligent for a cultist? Charlene gestured towards Fafhrd. If he keeps doing that, he’ll either join the inner circle or, if the jig is up, he’ll wake up with Sour’s arrow in his ass.
Fafhrd shrugged and made a short gesture that meant “leave no survivors” in barbarian battle language.
“Well, let’s wait for Hunzrin and see if he did any better.” Sour rolled her eyes and sat by the campfire. “He’d better hurry, or else she’s gonna be really angry.” She looked at Charlene.
“And before he comes, we’re gonna eat something…” Gray Mouser smirked, looking at the cauldron hanging above the campfire.
The door to Lemon’s room opened and Juniper walked in. “Hi girls!” she said. “Nice place, Lemon. Do you have a giant, singing head in your closet?”
Lemon furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do people keep asking me about that?”
“Okay, now I feel old.” Juniper sighed. “I actually remember this song when it came out.”
“So does anyone here, except for Lemon, it seems,” Sugarcoat said. “And, uhh, Sour?”
“Hunzrin.” Sour looked at Juniper and licked her lips. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Juniper looked around nervously and turned to Twilight. “What is wrong with her?” she whispered.
“She got into roleplaying,” Twilight replied. “You’re Hunzrin now, deal with it. You know, the villainous drow leader.”
“Okay, I see no one’s gonna ask me about the casting.” Juniper rolled her eyes.
“How was the casting?” Indigo asked.
“Bad. Turns out, I was mistaken when it came to the genre. Also, there are actually things I won’t do for money, you know,” Juniper said. “Not many of them, but still.”
“After reading that manga you gave me, I doubt it,” Sunny muttered. “Not every day I come for ski jumping and stay for suicide, crossdressing, and love dodecahedrons.”
“Isn’t that, like, every manga ever?” Indigo asked.
“No, most of them don’t have ski jumping,” Sugarcoat replied.
“Yeah.” Juniper smirked. “So, I’m supposed to do Hunzrin, right?”
Lemon chuckled. “Well, if you don’t mind the audience…”
“Well, I usually don’t, but–” Juniper blushed. “Oh, now that I think about it, this sounded much better in my head.”
“I’m sure it’s because of the casting,” Sugarcoat said. “But well, you can do Hunzrin if you please. Just don’t overact. We don’t want Sour to shoot him.”
Juniper cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s do this…”