Feast of the Pyromancer is an episodic Splatter Elf story taking place exclusively on negative-hp.com.

Doko the Arcane Clown had done performances in almost every corner of Groteskia, but never inside a dormant volcano. Seemed a terrible idea to have a celebration inside something that could easily turn him into liquefied clown. The pay was good though and most people these days had little use for the College of Arcane Clowns after the whole “Obliterated Circus” fiasco. So he took the job. His make-up had already started to run.

“Hi, I’m Doko!” the clown announced vibrantly as he waddled into the surprisingly dim volcano lair. He expected someone to greet him and assist with setting up. He only heard an echo.

“Hello?” he cupped his gloved hands over the sides of his mouth. Only a louder echo answered back.

“Oi, shut it ya git,” a voice grumbled from the shadows. “They come when they come.”

“Oh, you quite surprised me,” Doko said, clutching the brightly colored ribbons dangling from his neck. “Are you another performer?”

A gravelly chuckle answered back. “Ya, of sorts. The fuck you supposed to be?”

Doko bowed with a flourish of ribbons and threads. “I’m Doko, the Arcane Clown. From the College of Arcane Clowns no less.”

“A clown, ye say?”

“Yes,” Doko said, then grinned widely. “An Arcane Clown.”

The figure emerged from the shadows, greasepaint smeared on his face, white splotches in his tangled beard. His nose was red. An unnatural red. He towered over Doko, and greasy black locks hung down over his eyes.

“Clowns look much bloody different where I come from,” the hulking man said and spat at Doko’s feet.

Despite being a Rank 6 Arcane Clown, the bestial brute in front of him jangled his nerves. He had an aura of something grim. Something dark. But he couldn’t quite define it.

“And where are you from, sir?” Doko felt bile rising in his throat. “A faraway land?”

“Aye, far enough.”

Doko extended his shaking hand. “I’m Doko. Nice to meet you.”

“Ya, I heard you bellowing on about it.” The man didn’t extend his hand. “I find it best not to learn names. Makes it easier, innit.”

“Easier to do what, sir?”

The man smirked, his chapped blue lips with flecks of red mixed in. Blood? “You’re new to Mr. Tuck’s parties, eh?”

Doko gulped hard. “I suppose I am.”