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Book One
Previous Chapter
Chapter Two:
The announcement sounded like always, “Announcing Queen Varella, ruler of the Raven Court at Featherstone, she who soars high above and wields the dark wind. And her pet, the Wolf of Featherstone.”
After my inner girl helped defend the palace against an invasion from the lake, our title received a promotion.
Hushed whispers became the norm for me after I arrived in court. The nobles never seemed to tire of looking at the queen’s pet werewolf. Covered from head to tail in walnut-colored fur, weighing close to 200 pounds, and carrying a jaw of teeth strong enough to pull apart iron bars, I was the perfect beast for the bird lady to tut around and keep others in line.
When the queen sat at her emerald-encrusted throne carved from stone and covered in cawing ravens, I joined her. Some days she wanted me closer and others further. But I was always in the chair with her.
The damn thing was big enough to hold three people. But the Raven Queen and her werewolf filled it comfortably. This particular morning the queen lightly tapped her left leg with two fingers, a movement I’d been careful to watch for over the last few months.
That meant she wanted my paws and head strewn across her lap. So I obliged. Because she was my pack leader, and my devotion to her was absolute. Though that certainly wasn’t the case when I first arrived after finding the inner girl had willingly ensnared herself in the queen’s service.
I tried my best facing off against the Raven Queen in the forest not far from here. To her credit, she gave me a fair shot. I just wasn’t nearly fast or strong enough to put her down. The feeling of being flipped over and slammed into the dirt hard enough to rattle trees around me was something I had trouble forgetting.
Looking out at the gathered nobles, faeries of the Raven Court who had assembled to speak before the queen or witness those who were, I saw more apprehension than normal. A goblin covered in blue flesh and wearing the fanciest rainbow suit I’d ever seen was sweating up a storm. A pair of mated centaurs were shuffling in place, hoves lightly clopping on the stone floor, cotton dresses swaying gently with their movements. On the opposite wall, a girl with the wings of a butterfly twiddled her thumbs, something that, until now, I’d assumed was just what my inner girl called an “expression.”
Random nobles cleared their throats, coughed a little, and wiped their foreheads, waiting for the queen to speak.
My pack leader remained silent, observing her people, trying to figure out what had them all so jittery. Or maybe she already knew. Yeah, that made more sense by her expression, a calm and gradual glance around the room. Her mouth gave away neither a smile nor a frown. Varella’s eyes retained their frosty gare, violet irises that told those who saw them nothing more than the Raven Queen was thinking about something. No other secrets did they betray.
After ruling this court for centuries, the dark monarch of Faerie learned to keep a tight grip on everything going on inside her thoughts and feelings. And on the off chance something slipped through, I was here to steal attention from the witnesses so they’d miss whatever nugget the queen might’ve dropped.
“Let the queen’s business commence,” she said at once and without warning. “I believe we have a long list of petitioners this day. No sense in dallying. Whoever is first to address me, step forth.”
The hushed whispers came to a stop as soon as she’d gotten a single word out. All eyes were turned toward the space in front of the throne. More cawing from the ravens on the back of this giant chair filled the chamber as we waited for the first person to take their place before the queen.
“I will approach the throne to start today’s business if it pleases you, my queen,” an individual called from the tightest cluster of nobles. They stood near the large brass doors at the entrance of the throne room. And I watched them clear out as quickly as their legs would carry them when this faerie spoke.
My pack leader motioned with two fingers for the speaker to come closer.
Approaching the throne with a cautious demeanor, hands folded together as though one might run away if not held tight, an androgynous individual stopped about 15 feet before the queen. I raised my head to get a better look at the faerie that smelled of lemongrass and peppermint.
Their orange hair was pulled back into a braid that swiveled back and forth on their approach. Brown eyes that couldn’t help but find their way down to me once in a while watched the queen for any sign of immediate displeasure. This individual’s movements were all carefully measured, as if every toe that made contact with the ground only did so after two days of nonstop planning.
It went beyond the otherworldly grace that typically accompanied faeries who danced along the shores of eternity as though it were as natural a thing as breathing or blinking.
This elf was tall and willowy, dressed in a well-tailored black vest covered in silver star designs. A short-sleeved white button-down shirt was tucked into his dark trousers, which were also decorated with silver stars and even bigger constellations.
“Who addresses me?” the queen asked, her tone warming a little bit.
They took a moment to gather their breath before speaking. Another quaint calculation on their part, eyes circling back around to me for just a moment.
“My name is Dareth Ickmunt. I bring you a petition from the Court of Stars, your grace,” they said, bowing their head.
A smile danced on the corner of Varella’s lips, and I looked from her back over to Dareth. He did not speak another word until the queen had time to consider his identity.
“Ickmunt. . . surname of the Star Court King. It’s been some time since I’ve spoken with King Falmouth Ickmunt. Of course, everyone knows he has no living sons. But I’ve heard he keeps a nephew close at hand, even granted him the title of prince. So tell me Prince Dareth, why do you visit my court without an official announcement? Foreign royalty doesn’t typically approach my throne among the nobles during court.”
Dareth paused and considered their next words. They made no effort to hide their identity. Now that I got a better look at the prince, I saw a blue crescent moon tattooed on their neck, along with more stars marking their terra-cotta flesh. It was intricate inkwork and truly set them apart from even the nobles.
“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean to deceive you. Nor have I come to your court sans announcement for the purpose of spycraft or war. I only wear the title of ‘prince’ to placate my uncle. He is anxious about succession, you see. But I’ve considered myself royalty, despite his decree,” they said.
Varella clicked her tongue.
“So you come to my court without use of a title for the sake of humility?” my pack leader asked.
“It is as you say, your grace. I am not one for putting on airs. I find they needlessly devour my time,” the prince said.
They seemed to have found their noble legs, speaking a little more forcefully now, not with any aggression, just more surety. The elf may not want a title, but I saw nobility within their inflection now. It was their eyes, those locked with the pupils of my pack leader. Each knew who they were dealing with now. No games. Just the queen’s business.
My ears twitched as I heard the nobles whispering amongst themselves once more.
“The Court of Stars? Why would their prince travel this far south?”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this unannounced royalty.”
“Why come here to our court if not to bring trouble? I don’t like their timing or tidings.”
They continued to speak in hushed voices, but I tuned out and focussed once more on Dareth as the queen raised an eyebrow.
“You speak of your time as though you have any. Our kind does not wear bondage brought on by the strands of time as mortals do. So it’s a curious thing to hear you speak of it in such a way,” she said.
With their eyes sharpened, the prince said, “You and I may have a ladle that can be dipped into the well of ages without limit, but my court faces the end of its days. This is why I come here to petition you, your grace.”
Her amusement was gone. My pack leader’s stare had grown cold again. I had only run in this world for years, but these were Faerie courts being spoken of now. Centuries of time wound up in each through peace and conflict. It was simply beyond the mind of me or my inner girl. Such was the comprehension of mortals and beasts.
“The Court of Stars is in danger of collapse?” the queen asked.
The prince nodded.
“My home of 90 years faces invasion if not utter annihilation from the Fist of Kairn, an alliance of courts who’ve expanded their military presence in neighboring territories far to the north. My uncle remains convinced our pacifism will keep us safe, and that the stain of dishonor that would come from taking a peaceful court will be enough deterrence. But I remain unconvinced.”
It wasn’t just whispering now from the nobles. A few of them were starting to speak at full volume.
“I knew it! They’ve come here to drag us into war.”
“Surely they can’t expect us to protect them from so far away. That’s absurd.”
“I say we ransom the prince off to the First of Kairn here and now. Then we avoid war and bring in a little coin.”
That last suggestion elicited a growl from yours truly. It was enough that the court came to a pause. When a wolf growls, the grotto takes notice. When a werewolf growls, the entire forest takes notice.
But my pack leader was not looking around the room to survey expressions from her people. She remained hyperfocused on the prince who’d traveled so far to be here, chased by the threat of war.
“Your uncle is an optimistic king. I will not speak ill of him, but his decision and confidence in honor seem precarious. So tell me, Prince Dareth, what exactly have you traveled all this way to ask me? What request was important enough that it had to be delivered in person and could not risk being sent via crow messenger?”
Another deep breath from Dareth before he spoke.
At the throne’s top, each raven perched silently, almost as if they were made of stone like the chair we sat in.
“You spent some years growing up in the Court of Stars, your grace. We still have a large painting of you and your brother when you were just a girl, studying constellations and the movement of celestial bodies with my mother and uncle. I’ve come here to ask that if war were to swallow my home, you be prepared to receive fleeing refugees.”
Varella considered this, crossing her legs and placing both of her hands on top of my head, which found itself in her lap once more.
“You’re not asking me to intervene militarily but to be ready to welcome evacuees should the Fist of Kairn bring destruction to your doorstep?” my pack leader clarified.
“My uncle has forbidden requests for defensive aid, citing our court’s laws. Pacificism means that not only do we avoid fighting, but our court refuses to allow others to fight for us. So I’ve come here to seek the next best thing. I made similar requests to the Yellow Court and Worm Court, but they turned me down almost immediately,” Dareth said.
I picked up the sound of footsteps as a noble stepped into view behind Dareth. He was a sturdy man wearing a red robe with gold trim. It covered most of his alabaster skin. The fae’s black hair was cut short, and his yellow eyes washed over the prince from behind.
“My queen, you cannot grant the prince’s petition. The Raven Court would risk further ire from the Star Court’s enemies if we welcomed survivors of a hypothetical calamity. Our resources are—”
The Raven Queen cut him off.
“I’m well aware of our resources, Lord Kitac. I do sit this throne and manage this court each week, do I not? So why would you presume to tell me things I already know? Or would accuse your ruler of being ignorant of her queendom’s assets?”
I didn’t give Lord Kitac time to respond, rising to my feet and leaping down from the throne to the stone floor. My large paws passed over gemstones in the landing beneath me. I strode past Dareth, not paying him a lick of attention. My fur came within inches of their legs.
My haunches popped as I assumed my full height and might, gradually approaching the lord who spoke out of turn.
Even though the other nobles were nowhere near my path, they backed up against the wall as I passed. Their heartbeats were growing faster. And why? They’d seen this play out before with Lord Harroldsen. They watched as I tore his throat open in an instant.
But not here. I took my time approaching this lord so he could stew in the juices of this particular error.
Lord Kitac was a man of average height, but I watched him start to shrink before my very eyes upon my approach. He made no move to run, and it was just as well. Outrunning a werewolf was not a common feat.
A deep, echoing growl resonated across the throne room. I watched as his face sank with each second that noise rattled in his ears. The confidence he so boldly spoke with just seconds ago had taken a sudden leap into a bottomless chasm. And I suspected he now wished his body could do the same.
I had a job to do here. My pack leader is a terrifying monarch. But she doesn’t have to put her power on display every time she sits the throne. If a ruler had to show their true power very often, they wouldn’t have a court to manage for long. That’s where I came in. Because a wolf can be terrifying each time you see one.
And a werewolf? Well, folks didn’t even need to see us to be afraid. A lone growl echoing from the dark is enough to make most folks turn tail and run, especially when they so effortlessly felt the rumble penetrating deep into their core.
I could be the threat and power flexed every day without a single noble questioning the strength of my queen. That’s why I’m here. I am her beast. The queen has her talons, her beak, her dark wind, and through me, she has claws and jaws that could fell any number of enemies.
Flashing fangs, I padded another step closer to Lord Kitac, and any surety he had left dove into the same chasm that he wanted to hide in at this very moment.
The noble fell to his knees and folded his hands.
“Mercy, please, your grace. I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me. Of course you know the resources of this court. You surely do,” the man said, nodding as if to convince himself.
Before I could step closer, my pack leader called for me.
“That’s enough, my pet. Lord Kitac knows he fucked up. Come back to me,” she said.
I locked eyes with the sweating fae noble for what felt like several minutes before turning to leave. He fell to his ass catching his breath and then slowly stood, trying to gravitate to a section of the wall where everyone would forget he existed.
As I climbed back onto the throne, the Raven Queen stroked my neck and said, “Good girl. Such a fearsome beast you are.”
I let my tongue hang out for a moment before locking eyes with Dareth and resuming a more vigilant pose.
My pack leader stood and addressed not just the prince but her gathered nobles now.
“You who call the Raven Court home, I do not blindly ignore your fears and worries. Whispers of war to the north have grown louder these last few weeks. And now that we have a physical reminder of that conflict before our eyes, I understand why it makes you uneasy,” she said.
Dareth said not a word. He stood listening to my pack leader with a calm demeanor that did not once lead me to believe he felt ignored by the queen’s change of attention.
“This court has seen war. We’ve seen death. But I will remind you that in my centuries on this throne, not once have I dragged our people into battle unjustly. Aggressors have tried their hand at conquering us, and enemies have stood at the gates of Perth before! Some of you were here to witness that. And what did I do?”
The hypothetical question was accompanied only by ravens above me, summoning their chorus of caws again.
Nobody answered the queen.
“I soared over those gates and struck down our enemies with a feathered blade in each hand. Time and time again, I have rallied our talons and feathers to drive the enemy back. You know me. I do not pick fights with other courts, and I do not loan our military to be a strength for others unless required to do so by established treaties. Do you not recall mere months ago when I avoided embroiling us in a war between the Yellow Court and Worm Court? Have you all forsaken belief in my wisdom so easily?”
Now some nobles did answer her.
“No!”
“We believe in you, our queen!”
“You’ve not failed us one single day on that throne.”
My pack leader nodded to her nobles. The energy in the room had completely changed. She’d whipped up their confidence into a fervor, all with a few words. I rose from the throne and stood at her side, my shoulders in line with her hips.
“You trusted me then. I call upon you to also believe in me now. I will not summon the ire and war of northern kingdoms to these lands. The Raven Court will remain safe and prosperous as it has for many years. So I ask you all, here and now, do you trust your queen?”
And with a thunderous echo, each lord and lady present hollered in affirmation.
“Armed with your confidence, I will continue to protect our lands. I appreciate you all,” my pack leader said.
Turning toward the prince as the nobles talked excitedly amongst themselves, the Raven Queen had softer words.
“Prince Dareth, I invite you to stay here at Featherstone tonight as my guest. If you accept my invitation, then we’ll discuss your request for prepared aid in the morning.”
The fae prince bowed.
“I appreciate your hospitality and am happy to accept, your grace.”
My pack leader awarded him a brief nod and then resumed her seat on the throne, calling me to her once more.
“Come now, my pet. We still have much of the queen’s business to attend.”
And that’s exactly what we did. Somehow, the throne room moved on from its display of Raven Court patriotism and continued with more petitions. None were as exciting as what we’d heard from the Court of Stars, though.
The very long day concluded with a shopkeep asking the queen for a 12-month moratorium on tax duties so she could expand her tailoring business from Perth into the neighboring village of Sanc Red. Once the queen granted her this, she dismissed the nobles. Within minutes, the throne room was empty and quiet as it hadn’t been since before sunrise.
I stood with the queen and stretched, wagging tail and rear rising while my front paws carried forward as far as they could. A yawn forced my jaws open wide for its escape.
Varella chuckled and ran her fingers under my chin.
“You did well today, my pet. Fierce and frightening as always you are at my side. My bargain continues to be fruitful. Are you ready to call it a day? Shall I summon your inner girl again?”
I nosed her arm, and the queen smiled.
Then she placed a hand over my head and called forth to the magic she kept within my wolfheart. It echoed within my core, responding to her will, reshaping me into the human girl that struck the bargain in the first place.
“Retreat, my wolf. Sierra Chelsi, I call you forth.”
A familiar smoke rose from the stone floor, engulfing my entire body so the transformational magic could take place.
My instincts sank into an inner slumber to be called upon whenever the queen saw fit in the future.
***
I stood on two legs once more and stretched. The smoke around me thinned, vanishing as the queen removed her feathered cloak, wrapping me in it as she often did when I appeared naked after each transformation.
“Fun day at court, my queen?” I asked, yawning.
My stomach grumbled, and I felt a familiar light-headedness that came when assuming a human form again.
“You certainly ensured so, my little wolf. I believe I promised you dinner and some answers about Bliss. Shall we head to your room to get dressed for an evening meal?”
“I’d like that very much, mistress,” I said, smiling.
Finally! I can have her all to myself, I thought.
My mistress ran her nails through my hair, which, as usual, left me frozen in a dizzied state while I absorbed every moment of her touch, head slumped to the right against her breasts.
“We’ll go when you’re ready,” she taunted.
I couldn’t budge, and she knew exactly why.
Maybe dinner wouldn’t happen after all.

“Why are you called Bars?”

I was unsurprisingly craving a Bloody Mary one day, but ultimately wanted to create a show stopper. I juiced and seasoned. I strained and spun (in a centrifuge). Ultimately, I came up with a fantastic Bloody, however for a bar or restaurants menu, this was too much work to complete on a regular basis. Furthermore, I strongly believe that a bloody mary is, "just a mixy", or at least should be. Back to the drawing board.
Of course I came to Reddit for inspiration and found a post by u/the_madeline in which they milk punch and clarify a bloody mary. Genius! We recreate their exact recipe among a couple other punchs for comparison (we used Zing Zang and Clamato for the two other versions). We were close, oh so close!
The final recipe, which is pictured here, went for a base mix comprised of 75% Clamato and 25% Master of Mixes (Zing Zang was too... Zingy). We did an initial spin with a coagulant to get rid of the big pieces and then mixed a bacon-fat washed vodka into the clearer mixture.
Given how acidic the Clamato juice is by itself, we really didn't need to play with acidity, although I did add just a scootch of pickle brine before adding whole milk. Letting that sit over night, we strained the mixture through a coffee filter and voila!
The recipe is: 3.5 Bloody/Clamato mixture 1.5 Bacon-fat washed vodka An eyeball of pickle brine
Poured directly into a Collins glass and garnished with a pickle.
I'm proud to introduce my no-mixy Bloodyless Mary!

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The Adventure Games
By Ringo Cross
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(Chapter 2: continued...)
His theatrics made us all blush. I closed the pantry, took a deep sigh, and made my way over to the table. I glanced nervously into the eyes of what had become my unwanted audience. They were all waiting impatiently for me to begin what was arguably one of the most awkward, forced introductions in recorded history:
“H-hello. My name is um... um... Joshua Graham. I’m originally from Waterbury—uh—Connecticut, sorry. My parents relocated to Clayton, Missouri when I was twelve. I have one sister, she just turned seventeen. She’s the reason I’m here. Phew. Man, I, I told them I’d join if they’d help her. They agreed and I, um, well, and now I’m here, right? There’s really not much else to say—oh, I’m 29, work for Amazon, delivering packages all day. That’s pretty much it. I live a pretty normal existence, oh and I’m... human? I don’t know why we have to mention that, but whatever,” I told my unwanted audience while standing there and waiting for any unwanted questions they may have had.
“So, basically, you already got your wish?” Bully asked with a mouth full of sandwich.
“I guess you can say that.”
“Humph. That’s suspicious.”
“How is that suspicious?”
“How isn’t it suspicious?”
“Man. My sister was literally days away from dying! I traded my wish for her life.”
“That explains the name tag,” Bully laughed contemptuously at me.
“You’re a real piece of work. But thank you for reminding me to take this stupid thing off,” I said while peeling the name tag off my shirt.
“It’s noble if you ask me,” the Lover said, with a wink and a smile. Then he kind of gave me an innocent little bump, indicating that I should step aside, as if the spot I was standing on had become the place to be. I obliged and he began his longwinded introduction:
“Greetings, everyone. As you already know from today’s prior announcement, my name is Roger Pierson. I hope this doesn’t come off as a jump scare, but I’m afraid I am indeed one of those filthy ‘nonhumans’ she was talking about. I’m a vampire to be precise, but please, please you have nothing to fear. I’m not some starving brood waiting to kill you in your sleep,” he said before tittering away like an amiable courtier. “Ok, where was I, oh, yeah—”
“Wow, wow, wow,” Bully managed to stammer out without choking. “What do you mean you’re a vampire?”
“Humph. I don’t know how else to describe it,” he said with a slight sigh and shrug.
“Bro. Are you being serious right now?”
“Deadly serious—ok, so I probably shouldn’t have said that. That wasn’t funny,” he said before placing a hand to his chest and huffing in displeasure. “But no. In all seriousness, I’m totally a vampire.”
“This is unreal,” the Followed muttered.
Roger placed a hand to his head in exasperation, “Oh devil, I knew this was going to be a hardship. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m obviously telling a bunch of randoms the most shocking bit of news there is.”
“I call bs!” Bully said rather mockingly. He folded his arms and looked over at Roger with an annoyed expression. “Dude. Come on. This isn’t the time for pranks. We got enough going on as is.”
“It’s true...” the Rationalizer spoke. He had been lingering around in the shadows for so long I forgot he was a part of the group. He slowly made his way over to us, and added, “He’s not lying. Now let him finish. If this is our only task for the day, I’d like to be done.”
“Fine. The floor is yours,” Bully said very sarcastically and mockingly of Roger.
Roger took it in stride, showing off his decorum. “Thank you, and thank you,” he told the two gents before finding the main road again, after that volcanic segue. “Where was I? Ah, yes, that’s right. Ok, so like I was saying, I am a vampire. I’m 44 years younger,” he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. His eyes lit up in fanciful imagination. “Ah, yes! How silly of me. I almost forgot about my precious Ana. Ok, everyone, last but certainly not least, let me tell you a thing or two about my darling sister. Oh, my, you guys are going to love this. Her name’s Diana but we call her Ana. She just finished her blood rituals with a strapping young lad from a noble family! It is to a lesser house but a decent, well pedigreed one. I’m so excited for them and for this amazing marriage! I can’t tell you how much this helps increase my already voluminous profile in vampiric society. Hmm... I wonder... Maybe that’s the reason I was given the master bed? I must be the highest ranking notable in the bunker? Pfft. Any who. Like I was saying, ‘nobility’ and ‘royalty’ are interchangeable terms in the vampiric world, since technically we aren’t the real power behind the throne. Hope this doesn’t come as a shock, but the real power behind the throne belongs to our—”
“Put a sock in it already!” Bully barked.
“Excuse me?” Roger asked with a scowl.
“You heard me, stick to the point!”
“How rude,” Roger uttered. “Fine. As to why I’m here. Isn’t it obvious? I’m here because I was promised patronage from one of the elven original vampiric houses! Any order will do, since we live in LA, I’m thinking it’ll be the Vandervelt order. There’s no way I’m getting into the Báthoric order. Or the Dracul, or the Hapsburg, or the Windsor. Yeah. It’ll probably be the Vandervelt’s. They’re like the only ‘American’ clan,” he bumbled and mumbled. There was an odd pause. He looked at us and quickly realized we were all staring at him as if he were a madman, not only for talking to himself but for talking to himself in front of us about things we had no clue about. Seeing this, he wiped the sweat from his brow and nobly carried on, “Whew. Ok, so I know that was a lot to take in. Sorry about my little conniption there. Oh, and as far as work, hah, labor isn’t really my thing. Oh my. Now that I think about it, I’ve probably never worked a day in my life. When I do ‘work,’ as you commoners say, I coordinate parties and other high-end affairs for the highborn.”
Everyone looked at Roger. No one knew how to follow that up. I looked over at the Follower and gestured for him to go next with an innocent head nod. I think he picked up on what I was putting out there. Because he stood from his chair and gingerly and clumsily made his way over to what had quickly become the speaking spot of shame.
When Roger saw this, he cringed as if the boy was a smelly hunk of meat. He hurriedly got out of his way, trying his best not to stare. I’m guessing he didn’t have much experience with humans, let alone urbanites. To him, we were all probably repulsive smelly hunks of flesh. He was too stuffy and uppity to appreciate anyone who didn’t appreciate fine linen or fine dining.
The Follower tore off his name tag with a shaky hand. Then he waved at us, all unsure of himself, like this was his first time addressing a group:
“Sup? Name’s Aaron. Just turned eighteen. Little bit about myself, as you can see, I like tattoos. I’m into stoner and skater culture. Grew up in Virginia Beach. I’m mixed so you know I try my best not to be no vulture and always rep ‘the culture.’”
He made an odd hand gesture when he said the last bit about ‘the culture.’ Then, as if that wasn’t already cringy enough, he carried on, saying, “Right now I’m part of the gig army. Uber Eats, Lift, Spark, Insta, all that good stuff. I don’t know man, it ain’t like it used to be when my parent was growing up. Everything was cheap. It’s hard out here nowadays. That’s why I joined. They said if I win, I can get a full ride to Duke. I’m a huge Blue Devils fan. If I was taller, I swear I would’ve been a baller, but it’s whatever now. That stuff’s old news,” he abruptly stopped, but before leaving so someone else could talk, he looked over at Roger and blurted, “Oh, and I’m human! If what bro said is true, I think vampires are sick man! You gotta tell me more, big homie, I’m all ears!”
Roger folded his arms and smacked his lips as if what Aaron said had left a tart taste in his mouth. He didn’t even bother with a remonstrance; a simple eye roll and an “Ugh” were enough to convey his disdain.
Aaron got the message and hastily sat down next to the young girl. She leaned over and whispered into his ear while staring at Roger. The two erupted into laughter. The type of boisterous uproar only teenagers could get away with. We all just kind of looked around waiting to see who would take the initiative and go next. When no one else stepped up to the plate, Bully finally decided to go next. I could tell he had an attitude. This guy was going to be trouble I thought to myself.
He stood there for a moment, frowning and fuming, like he wanted to smash something. Instead of giving in to his lesser angels, he held his head high and gave in to his better angels: “I’m a human, like everyone else here,” he peeled off his name tag while grumbling, “Stupid nonsense. My name isn’t bully. I’m not a freaking bully. My name’s Brock. Brock Berger. I’m twenty-five, and as you can clearly see, I’m heavy into the fitness scene: weightlifting, deadlifting, flexing for the ladies, all the usual stuff muscleheads do,” he said before flexing his bicep muscles.
I can’t lie, even though he had the personality of a milk carton, he was Zyzz levels of ripped and about as aesthetically pleasing as a Greek god. He gave the Narcissist a wink before transitioning his front double bicep pose into a Greek god pose.
She glared and scoffed at him, “Can you like, hurry up? I’m not here to find a boyfriend.”
“If I win—no. When I win, I get a brand-spanking-new Wrangler Sport and an all-expensive paid road trip—from my home state of Maryland, all the way to Malibu! I can’t wait! Malibu here I come baby! Wahoo!”
Brock continued to cheer for himself like a total you-know-what. Once he was done being bothered with us, he went over to the fridge and grabbed a whole jug of OJ. The bastard began chugging it straight from the bottle. I had never seen someone drink so ravenously. I suppose all those muscles came with a hefty energy demand.
Everyone waited to see which brave soul would take the floor next. There was a bit of awkward silence. But before things could turn from awkward to downright uncomfortable, someone spoke: “The name’s Markus. I don’t really have too much to say. I’m 33, unemployed, my last job was at a call center. I’m into comics, I’m also a vampire, and if I win, I get a million dollars, hard cash.”
Roger’s eyes lit up. He raised his hand as if he were a student gaining the teacher’s attention. When Markus saw this, he asked him what did he want.
Roger said, “Wow. You’re not much of a charmer. Riddle me this? You’re a vampire, correct?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Pureblooded, by any chance?”
“Nope. No chance.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“I take it you are?”
“Naturally,” Roger crowed.
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked Markus.
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled.
“Oh, it’s definitely something,” Roger chortled.
“I’m what you’d call a brood.”
“What’s that?” Aaron asked.
“All it means is that I wasn’t born a vampire. I was human once. I was changed into one. So, in our world, vampires like me are considered impure.”
“How is that a bad thing?” I asked.
“I know right?” Aaron seconded.
“It’s not. I don’t feel like explaining. Let’s just finish introducing ourselves and move on.”
Roger scowled as if his lowly thoughts of Markus had somehow exceeded expectations. I had no clue what the beef between them was. I made a mental note to find out more. If I wanted to do that, I would first have to find a way to get one of the last two people to go.
The only two contestants left were the girls. The younger of the two, the one whose name tag read “Teenager,” tried to make herself smaller.
When she hunched over into a ball, all eyes seemed to naturally gravitate towards the Narcissist. I don’t know if she was daydreaming or what. But when she finally noticed what was going on, she stopped playing with her fingernails. Her cold stare said it all. She folded her arms and stewed for a second. Then, to everyone’s shock and relief she complied. She didn’t bother standing up, she just sat there and began angrily addressing us:
“Tch. This is so stupid, whatever. I’m already so over this. Name’s Lisa Pilgrim. 21 years old, 50k followers on Instagram. I’m human, like, I don’t know what all this vampire talk is about, but it is so not cool. Only reason I’m even here is because they promised I’d get a blue check mark if I participated or whatever.”
“You joined for a blue check mark?” Brock asked with a chuckle.
I jumped in and said, “It’s not like your wish is any better.”
“You guys are so clueless. If you don’t know why it’s important that’s not my problem. I’m not your mother. I know because I hate kids.”
“Wow. Ok,” I told her.
“Anyways,” she said with an eye roll to die for, before returning to nothing, I mean, staring and playing with her polished fingernails as if we were nothing.
The only person that was left was the girl. She peeked around the room nervously before ducking her head back down when we exchanged glances. Since no one else was going to do it, I walked over, crouched down in front of her, and gently asked if she wouldn’t minding introducing herself.
She peeked over her knees and smiled nervously. Her cheeks were rosy red. I could tell she absolutely hated me for coming over and putting her on the spot like that. I knew it was a bit trashy, but I was hungry, tired, and frustrated. The sooner she got on with it the better.
“Fine...” she sheepishly squeaked before standing up. Her eyes darted around the room. She glared at me for a moment more before getting on with it: “Hi. My name is Sarah. I’m human. I’m sixteen.”
When she told us her age everyone was a bit taken aback. How in the world was she allowed to participate in whatever this was without parental supervision? Seeing our baffled expressions, she added a bit of clarification: “It’s not like it was my idea. I know what you guys are thinking, and I would never sign up for something stupid like this.” She took her name tag off and ripped it into pieces, grumbling, “My father’s so controlling.”
“He did this to you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s brutal,” Brock said.
“Why?” Markus asked.
“Why what?” I asked, taking somewhat of a defensive stance on behalf of the girl.
“Why’d he do it?” he asked her with folded arms, as if he was questioning her story.
She gave a slight shrug and said, “It’s complicated. I did some things I probably shouldn’t have, and he kicked me out. Oh, and I don’t get anything if I win. Well, I will get to see dad again, but I have mixed feeling about that, considering how harsh he punished me.”
“That’s awful,” Roger said.
She swiped the tears from her eyes and told him it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. He went over and gave her a cautious hug, making sure not to invade too much of her personal space.
“Thanks,” she shyly spoke.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m here if you need me. Trust me, I know what it’s like to have overbearing parents. Why being born into a pureblooded family will do that to you,” he said with a playful wink.
Markus unfolded his arms and grumbled, “This guy,” as if rubbing in his status wasn’t irritating enough. He was being condescending as well.
“You know that automated voice sounded a lot like you,” Brock told her.
“Excuse me?” Sarah said.
“The lady who was over the loudspeaker when we first walked in.”
“What about her?”
“She sounds like you.”
Sarah shrugged but said nothing, staring at him as if he had lost his marbles. I went over and gave Brock a playfully slap across the shoulder, “Better be careful. She might kill you first, tough guy.”
He laughed, “Yeah right. If anything, I need to be worried about you, hero-boy.”
“What do we do next?” Aaron asked.
“Food,” I quickly replied.
“Ok, let’s do food,” he snorted.
Lisa turned away in disgust. She stood and headed for the recreational room, which was right across from the kitchen. Markus took her seat at the table but said little to nothing. Roger headed straight for the whiskey cabinet, which was to the right of the kitchen cupboards. I had no idea it was a whiskey cabinet until he opened it. He briefly examined the contents within before seeming genuinely impressed with the selection.
Brock opened the fridge and began helping me make ham and turkey sandwiches. Aaron and Sarah were sitting down next to Markus, asking him a bunch of question about being a vampire. I probably would’ve joined in, but I was too hungry to think straight.
Aaron seemed pretty animated, asking a million and one questions about the odd and surprising ins-and-outs of being a real-life vampire. There was much laughter and banter. For this to be a kill box, we all seemed to be having a good time or whatnot. The mind was funny like that. It was like our traumatic entrance into this insane asylum, and all the questions, and all the problems that came with it had been forgotten.
“So, you guys don’t live forever?” Aaron asked.
“Not even close,” Markus replied.
“Aw. That sucks,” Aaron moaned.
“I want to be a vampire!” Sarah smiled.
“Yeah, me too!” Aaron exclaimed.
“Trust me, you do not want to be a vampire,” Roger mentioned while pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
The two looked over at him and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, they turned to Markus and waited for him to explain. Markus just shrugged, leaving the two youngsters in the dark.
“Speaking of which. What was that all about earlier?” I asked Markus after placing a plate with a sandwich and some chips down in front of him.
“What is this for?” he asked with a suspicious snarl.
“Vampires need to eat, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“You just answered your own question.”
“I’m not eating this,” he told me.
Brock came over and sat a plate down for each youngster. He gave Markus a playful push and said, “He didn’t poison it, I helped him make it.”
“Humph,” he grumbled under his breath as if he was pissed off by Brock’s insinuation.
Brock laughed while grabbing a stack of sandwiches off the counter like a Gothic king fresh off a good sacking of Rome. “I’m going to the rec room. Wish me luck, maybe I’ll get lucky with the Narc. You guys enjoy your stupid vampire talk. And you better eat your sandwiches, or I’ll make you a five finger one next time! Losers! Ha!”
“What a jerk,” Sarah mumbled.
“I’m not a jerk, I’m a bully, remember? Respect the name tag!” he shouted while walking away.
“Anyway,” I said before turning my attention back to the group. “So, like I was saying, what was that all about earlier when Roger was chiding you?”
Markus looked over at Roger and watched as he sipped his drink like the intellectually vacant elitist he was. The way he examined each whiskey bottle was revolting. Markus hid it well enough, but I could see the anger and resentment in his eyes. He took a bite into his sandwich, staring at me the whole time he chewed, as if I had done something sinister to his food. The ire roiled in his eyes a moment more before he finally gave up the goose and said, “Like I said, Roger is what we call a pureblood.”
“Because he was born a vampire, right?”
“Correct.”
“So, he thinks he’s better than you?”
“All purebloods do,” he said.
“Wow, you can be born a vampire?” Aaron asked.
“I know right. So cool,” Sarah smiled.
“It’s not what you think,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There’s really no difference. It’s just their way of discriminating against us so they can keep all the good stuff to themselves.”
“I don’t get it,” Aaron said.
“Me either,” Sarah added.
“I get it,” I said.
“You do?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah,” I said before taking a bite out of my sandwich. “It’s their guys’ version of poor and rich. Humans, like Markus, who were altered into a vampire are considered less than and called broods. Those who were born into the blood are considered rich and given privilege.”
“Oh, I see now,” Aaron uttered in astonishment. “Dang, dude, that’s pretty messed up.”
Markus frowned, “What pisses me off is how he acts like he’s nobility. They’re even worse. Those blueblood bastards. They pretty much hate us all.”
“A blueblood? Ah, man, you just threw a monkey wrench into the equation. What the hell is that? Is that a step higher on the social rung of injustice?” I asked.
Markus sighed. I could tell he wasn’t too eager to give us, what had to be another mind-numbing explanation. “They’re basically the ones who rule over us. They’re completely insane and do nothing but kill each other, and us too, if we get in the way of them killing each other. Think Game of Thrones, but with vampires.”
“Never seen it,” Sarah said.
“Me either,” Aaron seconded.
I shrugged and said, “Good show.”
“Are you allergic to sunlight?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. Really.”
“Garlic?” Aaron asked.
“No.”
“Crosses?” Sarah asked.
“No.”
“How are you not harmed by sunlight? I think he’s pulling our leg,” Aaron said.
“Me too,” Sarah smiled.
“Hey, Roger?” Markus said.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Are we allergic to sunlight?”
“No. Why would we be?” was his reply.
“That’s what you see in the movies,” I said.
“Stop believing everything you see in the movies,” Roger said with a soft chortle.
“Wow, that’s crazy. You’d think it would be more like in the movies,” Aaron mentioned.
“Why would we be harmed by the one thing that our prey utilizes more than anything? That would be like finding a shark that’s allergic to water,” Markus said.
“Let me guess, you guys don’t get any superpowers either?” Sarah asked.
“Nah. Not really,” Markus stated.
“Really?” I asked. “So, what’s the point in even becoming a vampire then?”
“Just picture the best version of yourself. That’s what it’s like to be a vampire.”
“Humph. I hope you’re right,” I mentioned as my thoughts drifted to my sister.
Seeing this made him raise an eyebrow. “You want in? You want to be one of us?”
I told him, “No.”
“You sure? You seem pretty invested,” he replied.
“It’s... it’s my sister.”
“Ah. I get it. That’s rough.”
“Get what?” Aaron asked.
“His sister was attacked by one.”
“Wow. Is that true?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah. And if everything those agents were saying is true, my sister became one.”
“Oh my God, that’s epic!” Aaron gleefully and naively exclaimed.
“She was on the verge of death.”
“Really?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here.”
“Aw. That sucks,” Sarah muttered.
“I know right,” Aaron said.
“Don’t feel bad man. It’s pretty much like that for everyone. It’s a real crapshoot.”
“Why is it like that?” Sarah asked.
“Well, if it were that easy to become a vampire, everyone would be one. Our job is to blend in and not be seen. Prey is supposed to outnumber its predators. I know it’s not glamorous, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s more ‘uncanny valley’ than supernatural.”
“Uncanny what?” Aaron asked.
“Uncanny valley,” he repeated.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it really applies to AI. For some reason the more realistic AI appears, the more repulsed and negative the human emotions. There’s like a mathematical threshold that delignates acceptance from fear. Theory has it, this inert fear goes way back to a time when humans were hunted by a species that mimicked them. Crazy part is they’re right. It was a primitive version of vampires called Grigori. You see a true vampire stays just below the peak of the uncanny valley curve. We hide in plain sight just out of reach of human insight. I’m not doing my job if you know. The worst thing that can happen is for you to know.”
“That’s pretty sinister,” I said.
“That’s nature for you,” he replied.
Roger walked over and stood behind Markus. He listened to our conversation while examining the stupidly expensive bottle of scotch in his hand. “You shouldn’t be telling the kids scary stories before bed.”
I could tell our little conversation tickled him by the amused look on his smug face. When no one responded to his grim warning, he told us, “Very well. I’ll be in my room if anyone’s interested.”
“No one’s interested,” Markus mumbled after making sure Roger was out of sight.
“I heard that,” he shouted back.
Roger’s response caused Sarah and Aaron to burst into laughter as if it was the funniest thing they ever heard. I chalked it up to youth before getting up from the table to go and examine the whisky bar for myself.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. When I looked over, I saw that it was Markus. He was standing there, silent, and still as a lion, right before it pounces on its prey with a lethal neck bite.
Meanwhile, Sarah and Aaron were at the table laughing and giggling away about things that my twenty-something mind could not possibly comprehend. She tapped him on the shoulder, leaned over, and whispered something shifty into his ear. Aaron looked over at me before nearly erupting into a million pieces from unadulterated laughter.
I shook my head and pulled a bottle of Jim Bean from the cabinet. I placed two shot glasses down on the counter and looked over at Markus.
He frowned a bit before saying, “You think it’s a good idea to drink?”
“No. But, so far so good, right?”
He checked his watch. “The night’s still young.”
“Eh. I think Brock might be right.”
“Ha. He isn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Just look at him. Does he look like a human who’s right about anything?”
I glanced over into the dayroom and saw Brock and Lisa engaged in a half-hearted conversation while watching TMZ on the big screen. The two kids were in the kitchen doing what teenagers did best. And Roger was supposedly in his room. So far no one stood out except for him.
I guess Markus read my mind because he said, “I don’t trust him either.”
“Who Roger?”
“You know it.”
“Yeah, but I also know you’re a vampire. And if it wasn’t for the task, you wouldn’t have mentioned it. Roger on the other hand. He has a cruel honesty about him.”
“Ha. I see. You don’t trust me either?” Markus said with a slight snicker. He grabbed the shot of whiskey and took it to the head. After exhaling, he said, “Remember. I’m a brood. The lowest of the low. I used to be human. I know what it’s like. But those types, they have no idea. They have no sympathy or compassion for you. They don’t know what it’s like to be what you are.”
“Humph. Is that so?”
“I wouldn’t lie.”
“When someone says that it usually means they’re lying,” I told him.
“Whatever, man,” he grumbled.
“Who spoke to you? I wonder was it the same two agents who spoke to me?”
“Was one a woman with black hair. Looked to be about your age?”
“Yeah. And the other was some older gent who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.”
He nodded. “I’ll never forget that asshole.”
“What was his name?” I asked.
“Agent Adams,” he said before putting a hand on my shoulder. “Let me tell you, I’ve seen some sketchy figures, but that guy. He takes the cake.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“Want to know something crazy?”
“Depends on how crazy.”
Before he could respond, the two youngsters agitated us yet again with their wild giggling. Sarah tapped Aaron on the shoulder. She glared at me while whispering what had to be another crude remark into his ear. He looked over at me and was in absolute stitches. After wiping away the tears of joy, he anchored the last bit of sandwich above his mouth. Sarah said, “choo” “choo” like a train, right before he dropped it down the hatch. This as you can imagine made him snort and chew wildly.
I turned my attention back to Markus and did my best to try to ignore their teenage antics. “What were you saying?” I asked him.
“Want to know a secret?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“We’re not the only—"
Markus paused when we heard a loud commotion. I whipped my head around to see what was going on. That’s when I saw Aaron floundering in his chair like a fish out of water. His plate came crashing down. Black and purple veins wiggled across his face like vines wrapping around an old Roman column. His eyes bulged in terror. He gripped his neck and wheezed in horror.
Sarah jumped from her chair, knocking it over. She backed away while screaming hysterically. I rushed over and began slapping Aaron across the back. The commotion drew Lisa and Brock’s attention. Brock hopped over the couch and dashed into the kitchen.
“Oh my God! He’s choking!” Lisa cried out.
“What do we do?” Sarah frantically asked.
“You’re doing it wrong!” Brock shouted as he practically knocked me over. He wrapped one arm around Aaron and knocked over his chair with the other. Then he secured both arms around Aaron’s stomach and began applying abdominal thrusts. I could hear the panic in Brock’s voice. He gave it a good effort, yelling and screaming for Aaron to hang in there the whole time. Aaron was slipping in and out of consciousness at this point. After a few more agonizing moments of this, his body went limp. Brock let go of the kid’s body and headed straight for me.
“What happened?!”
“Nothing! Why are you asking me?!”
“Because he’s dead! What did you do?!”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Why is he dead! Why?!”
“Let me check for a—”
Brock blocked my path. “Uh-Uh. You’re not going anywhere, mate. Not until we sort this out.”
“Please! Somebody! Check for a pulse! It might not be too late. We can still do CPR!” I screamed.
“Brock’s right. He’s dead,” Markus spoke while glancing down at the body. The way he calmly pronounced Aaron dead was very unsettling.
It wasn’t suspicious enough for Brock apparently, as he wasted no time laying into me once more, “Start talking, hero-boy,” he practically demanded.
I backed away and said, “Dude! What’s your problem? I was over there by the whiskey bar with Markus! The kid. He, he just started choking!”
Brock stepped right into my face, killing whatever illusion of personal space I had managed to regain. He growled while staring me down, going over scenarios in his head as to how he could take me down. “Is that so, hero-boy? You telling me nothing happened? He just started choking out of the blue, huh?”
“Maybe you should be asking the girl that same question,” Markus told him.
Brock and I kind of gave him the side eye when he said that. It’s funny, in what was arguably our most heated moment, he gave me one of those “are you thinking what I’m thinking” expressions. I was and the tension between us came to a screeching halt.
We both looked over at Markus and then the girl. There she was, kneeling over Aaron’s body, bawling her eyes out, apologizing for things she had no control over. She kept telling him to wake up. And that she was sorry. The moment spoke for itself. Her grief wasn’t from guilt. I had no idea where Markus was going with his accusation.
“Oh, look at you, you’re a real tough guy,” Brock told him with a sneer.
“I’m not a tough guy,” Markus fired back.
“Oh yeah?”
“That’s right.”
“Punk,” Brock bellowed under his breath.
“Hey, hey, hey—come on guys!” I shouted when the two got in each other’s face.
Markus turned right then and there. I could tell he had lost control by the flash in his eyes. The realization made it considerably harder to breathe. I don’t know what it was. I suppose his transformation tapped into something primal. Something that instinctually told me to run. His fangs... I-I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I imagined him going into a feral frenzy and unleashing unstoppable pain and power upon us all.
“Yeah, that’s right go head and show us your true colors, vampire scum,” Brock stated.
He groaned at Brock’s comment. For some reason, he kept stealing glancing at his neck. I imagined he desired nothing more than to drain his life essence with a brutal bite to the neck. If he seized the jugular vein instead of the more desirable carotid artery, surely, that would be enough to put an end to his bullishness.
Having had enough, Lisa spoke up, “Guys, knock it off already. Gah! So stupid.”
“Yeah, come on, guys. It’s not worth it. Back off. Let’s figure this out,” I told them.
Brock tried to side-step me so he could get to the vampire, “I bet you did it!”
“Did what?” Markus asked.
“Killed him!” he said, pointing to the corpse strewn about on the floor.
“He didn’t! He was standing over there with me! I promise you! The girl didn’t do it either. They were laughing and joking the whole time.”
“Ok, so what happened?” Brock asked me.
“It-It was an accident. That’s right—he must’ve choked on the sandwich! It’s... It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I hurriedly explained while looking baffled as I thought about my own baffling explanation in real-time.
“Yeah, the sandwich you made,” Brock said.
“You mean the sandwiches we made?” I asked.
“I don’t trust either one of you,” Brock spoke.
“Yeah, well, I don’t trust you either,” Markus told him.
“Don’t you guys have superpowers or something? You must have mesmerized him!” Brock shouted.
“You watch to many movies, pal,” Markus hissed.
Just then, as if things weren’t chaotic enough, Roger huffed and puffed his way towards the kitchen. I could hear him grumbling about the loudness, and about him being the only civilized one out of the bunch. His ranting came to a halt when he bent the corner and saw Aaron’s body sprawled out on the floor. Before he could ask what happened, I yelled, “It was an accident! He choked on a sandwich!”
“The sandwich you made!” Brock exclaimed.
“Hey, back off before I hurt you!” Markus snarled before shoving him out of my face.
Brock stumbled sideways. He looked alarmed and surprised by Markus’ strength. I guess it must’ve finally dawned on the meathead. The fact that he was squaring off with something designed to kill him. He quickly backed down, like the bully he was, and determined he’d have better odds studying the crime scene.
I could tell Markus wanted to end him right then and there, but out of civility and decency he held back. He centered himself until he had returned to normal. Relief washed over his senses after wrestling control of his primal urges back from the vampire within.
“Thanks man,” I told Markus.
“Don’t mention it,” he grumbled, I could tell by the way he said it that he wasn’t fully convinced that I had nothing to do with it.
This was crazy. What the hell did I sign up for? I asked myself. I could tell everyone was thinking the same thing. Because everyone just kind of looked at everyone else with an accusatory eye.
Aaron’s body was twisted, as if his final moments were his most miserable. He was laying on his back. His hands sprawled out and his face black and blue. I looked away after looking into his eyes.
“Dammit man,” I muttered.
“What do we do now?” Sarah sheepishly asked while wiping away another round of tears.
“What did the lady say?” Brock asked.
“What lady?” I asked him.
“You know, the voiceover—from when we first came in; she said something about coffins,” he stated.
“Oh, you me the burial room?” I inquired.
“That’s right! W-We gotta take him there. Come on let’s go,” He stammered out before hunching over and quickly scooping Aaron’s body off the floor.
It was surprising and haphazard, the way he did it, but hey, I suppose perfection wasn’t the goal. He had Aaron slung over his back, like a sack of rotten potatoes, showing off his might in the process. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Lead the way, hero-boy. I wanna make sure I keep you in my sights.”

Background:
If I’m being honest, it took me an embarrassingly long time after turning 21 to realize that over half of the bars downtown also have some sort of daytime food service that's open to all. They were just some sort of magic place that only served alcohol after 9 PM to me, and because of that I missed out of a few years of good pub fare and bar food. One of my favorite bars, Black Sheep Bar & Grill, has always had a great menu and have doubled down on having some of the best mac and cheese (according to Yelpers) in San Luis Obispo, to build out an ultimate build your own mac and cheese menu in addition to all their classics.
\"1117 Chorro\" Burger with Garlic Jalap-Parm Fries
Setting:
📍1117 Chorro Street, San Luis Obispo, CA 93401
Black Sheep is located downtown next to the cigar shop and I think the new Girl Scouts office (gotta get those cookies). Inside is a wood and brick interior with seats at the bar as well as sit down seating, as well as a back patio that is walled in but always a great spot to sit when the weather is nice. I’ve been going here for so long, it is hard to describe it in an appreciable way beyond, “it is Black Sheep,” it is a staple of downtown, especially if you’re too old for Bulls but not ready to be a local barfly at McCarthy’s. The atmosphere is always friendly, but it can be crowded depending on time of day and day of the week. They are open 11 AM to Midnight Sunday through Wednesday, 11 AM to 1 AM Thursday through Saturday. The kitchen usually closes at 9 PM (correct me if I’m wrong, please) and you can also place to-go orders via their website or call-in.
Grow a Pear cocktail
Menu/Selection:
The menu has a wide selection of Pub Fare, so I’ll do my best to cover it, but you can always find the full menu on their website. On the menu under their actual Pub Fare section are Killer Nachos (which you can add one of six meat options to for an extra fee), chips and salsa or guacamole, Buffal Wings, Onion Rings, Pub-Style Brussels (sprouts), Baby Back Ribs, Fish & Chips, Jalepeno Poppers, Mozzarella Sticks, Chicken Strips, and two different Totchos (that’s tater tot nachos for those of you not in the know). There are seven different salads including a baby spinach, a tri-tip, a grilled chicken, and Cajun Blacked Shrimp & Avocado, with six different dressing options. On the Sandwich Menu are six sandwiches and two wraps including a French Dip, a Linguica, and a Pesto Chicken sandwich, all served with a choice of side salad, soup, fries, or tortilla chips, with an option to upgrade to Garlic Jalap-Parm fries, Sweet Potato Fries, or Tater Tots. On the Burger Menu, a half-pound beef burgers basted in a House Guinness reduction customizable but also with eight pre-dressed options, all served with the same side options as the sandwich. Six taco options from fish to chile verde to Cajun Shrimp to Carnitas, come as two tacos served with the same side options as the sandwiches. On their South of the Border Menu there is a housemade Chicken Tortilla Soup, a Veggie Chili, a bowl of Chile Verde, and the Pub Quesadilla with the option to add a protein. Finally, they have a customizable Mac and Cheese menu, with nine “pre-made” dressed options, but you can also just customize it to your heart’s desire.
There is also a decent Kids Menu with a Corn Dog, Chicken Strips, a Quesadlla, and Mac and Cheese with sides like a basket of fries, carrots & celery, tater tots, or sweet potato fries. There’s also a Family Platter Menu, which I assume is a holdover from the Pandemic to-go options, but you can get a mac and cheese tray that serves 6-10, among other fun, family sized portions. On the drinks menu, there are eighteen signature cocktails with 3 types of margaritas, and other various Black Sheep spins on classic cocktails.
Cup of Hot Mama Mac (and Cheese) with a bite out of it to reveal the noodles
What I Had:
I had the Grow a Pear cocktail, a cup of Hot Mama Mac, and the “1117 Chorro” Burger with a side of Garlic Jalap-Parm Fries. The Grow a Pear is Bullet Bourbon, St George Spiced Pear liqueur, fresh lime juice, simple syrup, and ginger beer, and it was quite delicious. The bourbon provides a nice base for the lighter flavors of the liquor and the lime juice, the lime juice also creates a nice complement with its acid and the ginger beer gives it an effervescence that really brightens the cocktail. You can get any a la carte mac (or build your own) as a cup of mac and cheese instead of a full bowl, so I had to try the Hot Mama which was Linguica, jalapenos, and Cayucos hot sauce on top of elbow macaroni tossed in their secret blend of cheeses and serve au gratin. I don’t know why I didn’t expect the Hot Mama to be hot (spicy), but it obviously was, Cayucos hot sauce always delivers a nice kick, but so did the linguica and jalapenos. The jalapenos were either fresh or maybe quick pickled in house because they were a deep green and still had a majority of their crunch to them. The mac and cheese was good, the macaroni still had some tooth to it and was tossed in a bechamel, then topped with the toppings before being covered in shredded cheese and broiled. For my preference the sauce was a little too runny, but only by a hair, it didn’t detract from the dish in anyway and the different types of spiciness from the toppings.
The “1117 Chorro” Burger is a classic from an older iteration of the menu, and is all beef, half pound patty basted in a Guinness reduction topped with sauteed mushrooms, onions, and peppers, melted cheddar cheese, and the works (lettuce, tomato, red onion, pickle, thousand island) on an artisan bun and the side of Garlic Jalap-Parm Fries are kind of self-explanitoy, but they’re garlic parmesan fries with rings of those slightly grilled(?) or fresh or possibly quick pickles jalapenos that were in the mac and cheese. The burger was tasty, if not a bit unruly. The bun kind of disintegrated by the last bite and a lot of the bottom toppings (bottomings?) spilled on to the plate. Also it is served with a knife in the middle, but it might be easier to eat if not split in twain. That being said, the flavors were good, and the especially noticed the cheddar, which was a good complement here because of the “weight” of all the toppings, the thickness of the burger, and that Guinness reduction it was basted in. The Garlic Jalap-Parm fries were also good, but probably the least enjoyed of the meal, the fries were a standard pub/bistro cut, which would’ve been fine for the garlic and parmesan, but the jalapeno rings were huge relative to everything else and had to be picked up by hand, unable to be supported by the fries alone. Granted the burger was already messy, so I shouldn’t have an additional reservations about the fries being a little messy to eat as well. Although, the thickness of the jalapenos were also helpful in avoid them on the back half of the meal as there were a lot and I had already had my fill of spicy in the mac and cheese at that point.
​
Would I Have It Again:
Definitely! There’s so much on the menu to explore including all the mac and cheese variations. The staff is always friendly. It can be a little busy during peak hours, but with order ahead options, you can drop in and get your food to go. The base mac and cheese is delicious, all the variations for that, the burgers, and the tacos means you can find something to please your palate. So with all of this in mind, Black Sheep Bar & Grill gets an Eatin’ SLOCal rating of – Take-Out Now!

Anna the merchant was a bubbly woman with long red hair in a ponytail. She was dressed from head to toe in fashionable clothes and jewelry. Her stall was equally flamboyant, with fancy knicknacks hanging from it and brightly colored banners and windsocks. "Ah, Tiana von Riegan, the shooting star of the Leicester Alliance!" Anna greeted. "Here in the far east, the Kingdom of Almyra, a warrior culture known for their tenacity and their spices! Is she here for business? Is she here for diplomacy? Is she here for...love? All three?"
"Anna, please, you'll wake them up." Tiana said.
"Oh, yes, the slumbering herd." Anna smirked. "How may I help you today?"
"I need a bar of damascus steel. I also need a bundle of saffron."
(from Upside Down Diplomacy: Chapter 2 - Trials and Tests)
Almyra is a country that wasn't touched upon very much in the canon stories of Fire Emblem: Three Houses/Hopes, despite one main character being from there. I've been worldbuilding and writing for it for a few years now. Please note: some aspects may still be inaccurate to Hopes. A lot of this was made before Hopes existed, and while I did make room for Shahid, who only appears in Hopes, I'm still taking creative license with him and the country as a whole. Enjoy the little bits of prose before each section!
Terrain and Climate
It was close to springtime, and while frigid winds from the north were still rolling down in mainland Fodlan, the border between Leicester and Almyra remained warm year round. However, that didn't mean the Almyrans had a food surplus. Crops could only grow well for six months a year in spring and summer. Outside of those times, produce stored in the clay structures known as yahkchals were rationed, and wild poultry and red meat was harvested with the exception of elk from the forests in the west, as those were a protected, sacred species.
(from Upside Down Diplomacy: Chapter 1 - Crossing the Steppe)
​
https://preview.redd.it/bl71cqr4bqqa1.png?width=550&format=png&auto=webp&s=58efb397c7a63aa448c4a446a0a1181c4032f7e8
Almyran cities are situated around the canyon/forest area in the western portion of the country. The capital is Caglar, which rests in the middle of Catal Canyon. Its palace is clearly visible from the air, and wyvern patrols fly in and out regularly, but if one is approaching from land, it's hidden by the surrounding canyon. Unlike its fellow kingdom on the continent, Faerghus, there's not a ton of noble houses with territory. Trabzon is in the northwestern portion of Kumalar Plains, and is the gateway to the mainland once trade is established, ships sail out of it around the Fodlan's Throat mountains and can make landfall in Faerghus provided the ports are not closed by ice. Mardin is in the Kuyruk Woods on the southeastern bank of Kuyruk River. Markay is in the southern coastal region of Kumalar Plains and serves as a port to and from Abbas Island off the south coast.
Avise Desert is east of Catal Canyon and is racked by sandstorms year round. Further east, extending to the eastern coast, is more steppe like that in Kumalar Plains. There are no cities east of the desert, instead, homesteaders, farmers, and ranchers move throughout the area in a nomadic lifestyle with portable tents known as yurts, or they put down more permanent houses when they find an ideal spot. Visitors to the kingdom often make the mistake of calling this vast eastern steppe "East Kumalar Plains", while the locals only refer to it as "The Wild" or "The Plains".
Ethnic Traits
Danah came out of her room, dressed in a pretty purple dress and shoes, with a green hair scrunchie that brought out her orange eyes. She had long black hair. Uzair was wearing a dark blue suit jacket with loose fitting gray pants and shined shoes. His eyes, like his father's, were lightning yellow. His hair was dark brown, short, and had been fluffed nicely. Both had the typical Almyran tan skin tone.
(from The Sunset Before Us)
Almyrans are generally tan. Their hair is often thick, coarse, and colored in shades of brown and black. Both men and women tend to be, for lack of a better term, fluffy, with clear patches of fuzz on arms, legs, chest, and armpits, and both sexes also tend to have thick pubic hair. Men often have beards and/or mustaches of some sort. Some women shave their excess body hair, some do not. Woman fuzz isn't as thick as man fuzz regardless. This is distinct from birth, with male babies tending to have more hair than their female counterparts. Almyran eyes are typically colored in warm shades: reds, browns, yellows, and oranges.
Names can be drawn from the Middle East: Arabic names, Turkish names, Syrian names, Persian names, Iranian names, that general area.
Silk is a common clothing material for the upper and middle class, lower classes will wear leather and burlap. Soldier uniforms consist of light plate armor or chainmail with leather, typically unisex to the point where a male and female soldier are indistinguishable unless they stand right next to each other. Cloth cowls and neck scarves are commonly colored to fit a faction identity, or worn by commoners without being dyed.
Language and Culture
Tiana's husband gave her a unit of horseback archers. They were greenhorns, which she wasn't complaining about. She was good at training troops. But what she wasn't sure about, was communicating with them. Only Almyran royals and nobles spoke fluent Common, and she was not fluent in Almyran aside from the very basics and swearing.
She mounted her warhorse and positioned herself at the head. Their eyes, all warm colored, were fixed on her. She raised her arm and waved them to the left. "Go."
The greenhorn bow knights fell into formation and followed her. She led them halfway down the trail before uttering "stop."
They did not seem to catch that. Except for the one nearest her. He turned his horse and put himself between Tiana and the others, then threw his arm up and said something in Almyran. They understood him. Tiana made a vow to learn what "stop" translated to.
The man then placed his horse beside Tiana's. He looked at her, smiling sheepishly. He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "Omar," he said.
She blinked slowly as she realized he was introducing himself. "Merhaba, Omar." She replied, certain she'd gotten "hello" right. He bowed in response.
(from The Queen's Language Lessons)
For the native language of Almyra, I've been using Turkish, as Ancient Persia/Ottoman Empire/Turkey/Turkiye seems to be the biggest inspiration for the country. Also, Turkish uses the Western alphabet more than Arabic which is easier for my American keyboard.
They're a polytheistic religion, with but not limited to a war god, a harvest god, a love goddess, a sun god, and a moon goddess. They believe that elk are the resting place for a soul who has led a full life and is preparing to run to the afterlife, so they do not eat elk. They will eat deer, moose, or antelope, however. Common food includes kebabs, falafel, shawarma, curry, and dried fruit/nut/jerky preserves.
They're a proud warrior culture. While men are more often on the front lines of battle, lady soldiers do exist, as does the rare lady commander. Their military consists of mostly wyvern riders and cavaliers with either lances or bows, but there are some units of infantry and mages. Armies on the move will put up yurts for the night, with the leader's yurt in the center and everyone prepared to wake up in fight mode if needed.
Royalty is hereditary, and only a man can take the throne. Kings are allowed to take multiple wives, and most have over the course of history. Everyone else is more monogamous, including high ranking nobles. A king will hand pick his successor out of his sons, or nephews as a last resort, and test him with a gladiator sparring match. It ends when one side yields, but it is not to the death as it used to be nearly a century ago. Once the successor has won, he takes the throne upon the death of the current king.
Economy and Exports
Boran took a plate of rice, turkey, and a small slice of roast moose. He'd covered it all in gravy and topped it with a sprinkle of chili powder that he brought himself.
"Trade routes, then? Almyra can offer spices, saffron, cactus flower, yucca seed. We can also offer damascus steel, or silk." Boran suggested. "The caravans will cross through Leicester and may need guarded heavily, but my son, you know him as Claude, will help assure that."
Dimitri swallowed a bit of roast and potatoes. "Faerghus can, in return, give lumber, cheeses, leather, furs. Maybe some potato crops, they may grow in Almyra. And if you wish, the trade can happen via ship. I know you have a navy, is there a port town that's suitable for trade?"
"There are two." Boran said. "There's Trabzon, which is actually a doable sea route from Derdriu. Then there's Abbas, an island to the south. If you wanted to get the caravan to Derdriu, it can then be shipped to Trabzon." He paused to grab the tea kettle and fill a cup.
(from Two Kings)
Currency is interchangeable with the rest of Fodlan, with copper, silver, and gold coins. Trade operates on silk and spices with the occasional damascus steel, known as wootz steel in the mainland.
The local economy, as with every other country, depends on the exact area. Abbas Island and Markay have a lot of fishing. Trabzon also does fishing, but is mainly a bustling port town that brings in imports and pushes out exports. Mardin is an agricultural town that trades crops and meat from the woods. Crops are mostly beans and rice, with the occasional sweet potato or turnip.
Caglar, as the capital, is the most varied and wealthy. There are entertainers, dancers, and bards who perform in hookah bars and mobile venues. Military presence is heavy in Caglar and there are several armories that sell cutlasses, scimitars, poleaxes, tabars, pikes, halberds, and bows and arrows. There is a orchard at the palace with apple, apricot, peach, and pear trees. The palace gardens have raspberries and blackberries as well.
While mainland Fodlan has the central church keeping people reliant on the holy magic of the church monks and other types of medicine restricted, Almyra has some healing spells, but they mostly only work to stabilize an injury. They have what's called "the good meds". It's common for half an army to be "higher than wyvern pizzle" in the words of His Majesty himself as they recover from their wounds.

Anna the merchant was a bubbly woman with long red hair in a ponytail. She was dressed from head to toe in fashionable clothes and jewelry. Her stall was equally flamboyant, with fancy knicknacks hanging from it and brightly colored banners and windsocks. "Ah, Tiana von Riegan, the shooting star of the Leicester Alliance!" Anna greeted. "Here in the far east, the Kingdom of Almyra, a warrior culture known for their tenacity and their spices! Is she here for business? Is she here for diplomacy? Is she here for...love? All three?"
"Anna, please, you'll wake them up." Tiana said.
"Oh, yes, the slumbering herd." Anna smirked. "How may I help you today?"
"I need a bar of damascus steel. I also need a bundle of saffron."
(from Upside Down Diplomacy: Chapter 2 - Trials and Tests)
Almyra is a country that wasn't touched upon very much in the canon stories of Fire Emblem: Three Houses/Hopes, despite one main character being from there. I've been worldbuilding and writing for it for a few years now. Please note: some aspects may still be inaccurate to Hopes. A lot of this was made before Hopes existed, and while I did make room for Shahid, who only appears in Hopes, I'm still taking creative license with him and the country as a whole. Enjoy the little bits of prose before each section!
Terrain and Climate
It was close to springtime, and while frigid winds from the north were still rolling down in mainland Fodlan, the border between Leicester and Almyra remained warm year round. However, that didn't mean the Almyrans had a food surplus. Crops could only grow well for six months a year in spring and summer. Outside of those times, produce stored in the clay structures known as yahkchals were rationed, and wild poultry and red meat was harvested with the exception of elk from the forests in the west, as those were a protected, sacred species.
(from Upside Down Diplomacy: Chapter 1 - Crossing the Steppe)
​
https://preview.redd.it/urfr3ycjaqqa1.png?width=550&format=png&auto=webp&s=d96e0849e48d2bb1066845f2a4c72bea5118f66c
Almyran cities are situated around the canyon/forest area in the western portion of the country. The capital is Caglar, which rests in the middle of Catal Canyon. Its palace is clearly visible from the air, and wyvern patrols fly in and out regularly, but if one is approaching from land, it's hidden by the surrounding canyon. Unlike its fellow kingdom on the continent, Faerghus, there's not a ton of noble houses with territory. Trabzon is in the northwestern portion of Kumalar Plains, and is the gateway to the mainland once trade is established, ships sail out of it around the Fodlan's Throat mountains and can make landfall in Faerghus provided the ports are not closed by ice. Mardin is in the Kuyruk Woods on the southeastern bank of Kuyruk River. Markay is in the southern coastal region of Kumalar Plains and serves as a port to and from Abbas Island off the south coast.
Avise Desert is east of Catal Canyon and is racked by sandstorms year round. Further east, extending to the eastern coast, is more steppe like that in Kumalar Plains. There are no cities east of the desert, instead, homesteaders, farmers, and ranchers move throughout the area in a nomadic lifestyle with portable tents known as yurts, or they put down more permanent houses when they find an ideal spot. Visitors to the kingdom often make the mistake of calling this vast eastern steppe "East Kumalar Plains", while the locals only refer to it as "The Wild" or "The Plains".
Ethnic Traits
Danah came out of her room, dressed in a pretty purple dress and shoes, with a green hair scrunchie that brought out her orange eyes. She had long black hair. Uzair was wearing a dark blue suit jacket with loose fitting gray pants and shined shoes. His eyes, like his father's, were lightning yellow. His hair was dark brown, short, and had been fluffed nicely. Both had the typical Almyran tan skin tone.
(from The Sunset Before Us)
Almyrans are generally tan. Their hair is often thick, coarse, and colored in shades of brown and black. Both men and women tend to be, for lack of a better term, fluffy, with clear patches of fuzz on arms, legs, chest, and armpits, and both sexes also tend to have thick pubic hair. Men often have beards and/or mustaches of some sort. Some women shave their excess body hair, some do not. Woman fuzz isn't as thick as man fuzz regardless. This is distinct from birth, with male babies tending to have more hair than their female counterparts. Almyran eyes are typically colored in warm shades: reds, browns, yellows, and oranges.
Names can be drawn from the Middle East: Arabic names, Turkish names, Syrian names, Persian names, Iranian names, that general area.
Silk is a common clothing material for the upper and middle class, lower classes will wear leather and burlap. Soldier uniforms consist of light plate armor or chainmail with leather, typically unisex to the point where a male and female soldier are indistinguishable unless they stand right next to each other. Cloth cowls and neck scarves are commonly colored to fit a faction identity, or worn by commoners without being dyed.
Language and Culture
Tiana's husband gave her a unit of horseback archers. They were greenhorns, which she wasn't complaining about. She was good at training troops. But what she wasn't sure about, was communicating with them. Only Almyran royals and nobles spoke fluent Common, and she was not fluent in Almyran aside from the very basics and swearing.
She mounted her warhorse and positioned herself at the head. Their eyes, all warm colored, were fixed on her. She raised her arm and waved them to the left. "Go."
The greenhorn bow knights fell into formation and followed her. She led them halfway down the trail before uttering "stop."
They did not seem to catch that. Except for the one nearest her. He turned his horse and put himself between Tiana and the others, then threw his arm up and said something in Almyran. They understood him. Tiana made a vow to learn what "stop" translated to.
The man then placed his horse beside Tiana's. He looked at her, smiling sheepishly. He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "Omar," he said.
She blinked slowly as she realized he was introducing himself. "Merhaba, Omar." She replied, certain she'd gotten "hello" right. He bowed in response.
(from The Queen's Language Lessons)
For the native language of Almyra, I've been using Turkish, as Ancient Persia/Ottoman Empire/Turkey/Turkiye seems to be the biggest inspiration for the country. Also, Turkish uses the Western alphabet more than Arabic which is easier for my American keyboard.
They're a polytheistic religion, with but not limited to a war god, a harvest god, a love goddess, a sun god, and a moon goddess. They believe that elk are the resting place for a soul who has led a full life and is preparing to run to the afterlife, so they do not eat elk. They will eat deer, moose, or antelope, however. Common food includes kebabs, falafel, shawarma, curry, and dried fruit/nut/jerky preserves.
They're a proud warrior culture. While men are more often on the front lines of battle, lady soldiers do exist, as does the rare lady commander. Their military consists of mostly wyvern riders and cavaliers with either lances or bows, but there are some units of infantry and mages. Armies on the move will put up yurts for the night, with the leader's yurt in the center and everyone prepared to wake up in fight mode if needed.
Royalty is hereditary, and only a man can take the throne. Kings are allowed to take multiple wives, and most have over the course of history. Everyone else is more monogamous, including high ranking nobles. A king will hand pick his successor out of his sons, or nephews as a last resort, and test him with a gladiator sparring match. It ends when one side yields, but it is not to the death as it used to be nearly a century ago. Once the successor has won, he takes the throne upon the death of the current king.
Economy and Exports
Boran took a plate of rice, turkey, and a small slice of roast moose. He'd covered it all in gravy and topped it with a sprinkle of chili powder that he brought himself.
"Trade routes, then? Almyra can offer spices, saffron, cactus flower, yucca seed. We can also offer damascus steel, or silk." Boran suggested. "The caravans will cross through Leicester and may need guarded heavily, but my son, you know him as Claude, will help assure that."
Dimitri swallowed a bit of roast and potatoes. "Faerghus can, in return, give lumber, cheeses, leather, furs. Maybe some potato crops, they may grow in Almyra. And if you wish, the trade can happen via ship. I know you have a navy, is there a port town that's suitable for trade?"
"There are two." Boran said. "There's Trabzon, which is actually a doable sea route from Derdriu. Then there's Abbas, an island to the south. If you wanted to get the caravan to Derdriu, it can then be shipped to Trabzon." He paused to grab the tea kettle and fill a cup.
(from Two Kings)
Currency is interchangeable with the rest of Fodlan, with copper, silver, and gold coins. Trade operates on silk and spices with the occasional damascus steel, known as wootz steel in the mainland.
The local economy, as with every other country, depends on the exact area. Abbas Island and Markay have a lot of fishing. Trabzon also does fishing, but is mainly a bustling port town that brings in imports and pushes out exports. Mardin is an agricultural town that trades crops and meat from the woods. Crops are mostly beans and rice, with the occasional sweet potato or turnip.
Caglar, as the capital, is the most varied and wealthy. There are entertainers, dancers, and bards who perform in hookah bars and mobile venues. Military presence is heavy in Caglar and there are several armories that sell cutlasses, scimitars, poleaxes, tabars, pikes, halberds, and bows and arrows. There is a orchard at the palace with apple, apricot, peach, and pear trees. The palace gardens have raspberries and blackberries as well.
While mainland Fodlan has the central church keeping people reliant on the holy magic of the church monks and other types of medicine restricted, Almyra has some healing spells, but they mostly only work to stabilize an injury. They have what's called "the good meds". It's common for half an army to be "higher than wyvern pizzle" in the words of His Majesty himself as they recover from their wounds.