The Drunk Poet dungeons and double dates

If she'd had any lingering doubts about cold-running a DnD one shot, the look on Xena's face stomped 'em right out of existence. Worth. So worth, to see her face light up like that.

Everyone latched on to her ridiculous premise with admirable enthusiasm. Like. Not a single word of a challenge? So many 'yes ANDs!' Made her even more stoked to get even more weird for these people. And there was plenty--PLENTY--more weird to be had.

She murmured a quick thanks to the server and took a swig of her drink as she listened to the others' contributions. Harper's made her snort with laughter, Fred's solidified his place as the person in the group who slept with corebooks under his pillow, and Xena Xena's character was fuckin' hot. Um. And very easy to imagine. Nay, a pleasure to imagine.

Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.

"Barbara. Biscuit. Blaze. Three legends are born today," she intoned, rallying to seriousness. "Okay, Barbara and Blaze are so prepared for this volcano. Like. It HURTS how prepared they are. Biscuit, let's get...uhhh...a constitution thing from you to see if you burn alive immediately. The other two, your wrists are chained to the wall and there's a padlock thingy. The jailer's shit is on the other side of a lava pit. Maybe there's some shit in that shit."

She waved her hands. Theatrics! "Oh! And laaaaaava bubbles. Could be something lurking under the surface so you better be fast...WooOOOOOooooooo!"