Alright all, I hate disclaimers and trigger warnings, so I’m gonna say this quick. Whatever your feelings on strippers, sleaze, and what not are, don’t be creepy. That’s the long and short of it. Don’t be a creep about it. This whole thing is meant to be a quest hub and a place for NPC’s to hang out that’s a little tongue in cheek and silly, and it doesn’t need to be ruined by some fuckhead deciding to force their fetishes on everybody else. Don’t be shitty.

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“Time has lost all meaning as you trudge through the Night Roads. A twisting path of steel and spider silk stretching though the immeasurable void of the Uncreated Night, you are unsure of how long you have been traveling. Hours, days, months, it is near impossible to tell in the unchanging black, though continued glances over your shoulder as something twists in the nether let you know you are not alone. Just as though you feel you would go mad from staring into the infinite void, the atmosphere changes, so imperceptibly you barely notice it at first. Looking up, you find yourself bathed in a soft neon glow emanating from a point in the distance. Hurrying forward, you are soon able to make out the source of this light in the darkness. An island, floating in the void at a crossroads where nearly a dozen roads intersect, seemingly made of asphalt and containing a single two story building. Vehicles of all sizes and shapes are parked haphazardly about the floating lot, motorcycles with gleaming chrome, 1960’s muscle cars with flame decals, golden chariots drawn by gleaming white pegasi, ominous carriages fastened to massive snarling black dogs, a futuristic flying saucer with blinking lights, horses, tigers, ambulatory masses of ooze, and all manner of creatures tied to nearby hitching posts dot this this small expanse. The low thrum of bass can be heard from inside the building, which is painted in garish colors and lit by neon lighting. A sign on the side, prominently displayed in neon lining, reads “The Cosmic Kitten,” next to a cartoonish figure of a cat headed naked woman swinging down a pole. Realizing you have heard of this place, you recall the words of an archmage you met traveling through the Night Roads. What was his name? Mordekainen? Ordickainen? Gary? Doesn’t matter, though you remember his advice. “If you’re ever stompin’ through the roads, ya gotta make a stop by the Cosmic Kitten. Best damn titty bar this side of Sigil, but watch your ass. Demons, devils, angels, demi-gods, eldritch horrors, wizards, fairies and all sorts of folks go there get their freak on, but ya gotta play by the rules. Number 1, everybody pays the cover, no exceptions. Number 2, if yer gonna scrap, take it outside, and number 3, the most important. Don’t fuck with the dancers, and that one’s for your protection kid, not theirs. Make sure you pay your fuckin’ tab and keep in mind they don’t always take coin. Other’n that, the buffet’s pretty damn good and their beer ain’t too bad neither. Tell Suzy I says hi, and she still owes me a dance.” The wizard’s words echo in your mind as you walk through the swinging saloon doors and are greeted by some of the most bizarre sights of your life. On the main stage is a mass of eyeballs and tentacles that unfastens a bikini top and tosses it to the side before undulating up and down a pole to the tune of Halestorm’s “Apocalyptic” and the hoots and hollers of a pack of biker-leather clad Deep Ones. In a corner of one of the room, a female fire giant wearing brass lingerie and iron stiletto heels is giving a table dance to a white winged angel. A snake man grinds on a cigar-smoking goblin on one of the couches lining the walls of the building as a drider pours a shot of some glowing green liquid and leans into hand it to the smirking goblin, brushing against her in a sensual manner. A succubus glides through the patrons near the main stage, shifting from male to female form as it dances between customers, while a dragon gets a lap dance from a treant. Small stages and cages dot the room like islands of sin and delight, containing dancers of all sorts and kinds, surrounded by shouting, jabbering, and laughing patrons. Before you can go any further, a voice resounds in your head as though from a loudspeaker, “andcomingoffthemainstagelet’shearitfor Cynthia. Makesuretotipyourwaitressesandlet’skeepitgoingfor Bastet.” A squid headed humanoid, the source of this psychic message, casually flips a few switches in the dj booth it occupies as the mass of tentacles quickly picks up dollar bills, gemstones, and crystallized souls before heading back behind the curtain. Replacing her is a gorgeous dark skinned woman with the head of a cat, clad in revealing attire reminiscent of the Oasis States. With a momentary survey of the room, she makes a standing leap across the thirty foot stage to grab the pole and begin one of the most elaborate and acrobatic pole dances you’ve ever seen to the tune of “Money Maker,” by Ludacris. Before you can go any further, however, a teenager in a ratty leather jacket and a punk rock look appears in front of you as though by magic, holding out his hand. “Cover,” he growls in a voice far deeper than his size would suggest. “Or get the fuck out.” Startled, you hand him some gemstones you had stashed in a pouch almost unconsciously, so startled it takes you a moment before you grow irritated about this little shit who seems to be challenging you. Before you can say anything else, he considers the bounty in his hand and nods, vanishing before your very eyes. “Don’t mind him,” comes a voice from nearby. “He can be a bit of an asshole, but he’s a good doorman.” Turning to your right, you see a handsome woman in her mid-thirties with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Clad in faded jeans and a flannel over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, the woman stands behind an enormous bar while the wall behind her is filled with bottles and concoctions from across the multiverse, taking up the entire eastern wall of the building. Looking you over, she winks at you and says, “Welcome to the Kitten. First one’s free,” before pulling a bottle of Tulamore Dew seemingly from nowhere and pouring a shot before downing it. “Now what can I get ya?”

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Welcome indeed, to the Cosmic Kitten, the best damn strip club in the multiverse. Coming to prominence during the Last War, the Kitten has served as a haven for those fleeing the violence of the Shattering and is one of the most universally acknowledged neutral ground across the multiverse. Heaven, Hell, various magical realms, and even some of the more powerful Uncreated Courts respect the sovereignty of the Cosmic Kitten. That is not to say the Kitten is free from conflict or rides on its status alone. The dancers, strippers, and employees here all call this place home and will fight to defend it. Those who come to the Cosmic Kitten are free to come and go as they please, and while inside the building are protected to the fullest extent that the Kitten and its denizens can muster, but they have to respect the laws of the house. Most of the employees see this place as a haven, some see it as a job, others just consider it a good time, but a few see it as a prison. A gilded cage, but a cage none the less.

Space is a bit morphic in the Cosmic Kitten, as the building shifts a bit to accommodate the needs of larger customers, but one of the real gems are the extra dimensional spaces on the second floor. Many of the strippers and employees use these as apartments between shifts, the inner workings adjustable according to the whims of the building itself. Other times they are used for private dances, but they lack privacy of the apartments, meaning that if one of the strippers is getting uncomfortable, he or she can eject the customer right back onto the main floor, usually into the midst of the other employees who would like to have a stern word as to why this happened. It usually doesn’t go well for the erstwhile customer. Cover isn’t cheap either, requiring Wealth 2 or equivalent to enter, but the bar has an exchange. Anyone finding themselves blacklisted will be unable to enter the premises, the doors locked until they either perform a great service, or pay the equivalent of 8 wealth, and even then, it’s only probationary, so don’t screw up.

There is a buffet near the far end of the building that always stocked with food, all of it excellent quality and anyone who comes up to it will always find something to their liking, magically replenished when it runs out. Kentucky fried chocobo, everflame chili, goblin rat skewers, gelatinous thought flan, steamed buns filled with ground pork and purple mushrooms, macaroni and cheese, and triceratops meatballs to name a few.

Khufu the Golden Hand, Merchant of Dreams and Delights: the Cosmic Kitten is owned and operated by Khufu the Golden Handed, Merchant of Dreams and Delights. Seemingly a sleazy, overweight older man of unknown descent in a stained track suit, this pile of twisted steel and sex appeal is actually one of the few remaining Made Gods from ancient times. Less… capable in a fight (cowardly) than some of his brethren, Khufu is a god of wealth, celebrations, and excess, so when the actual fighting broke out during the Last War, the Merchant of Dreams decided on discretion being the better part of valor and fucked off through the Night Roads. Taking refuge in a forgotten Shard of Heaven, the Made God stumbled upon a wondrous discovery, though he’ll tell you it was all part of his grand plan. The Engines that governed this Shard of Heaven, though damaged, could still be salvaged. Realizing these were the tickets to his own sanctuary, Khufu set about the long and arduous process of creating his own paradise, one with blackjack and strippers. Turns out that shit was super hard, and as he labored over the creation of his grand temple, he found more parts missing than not. Understanding the sacrifice he would have to make, Khufu tore apart much of his divine body, shoring up with broken and missing parts with pieces of his own deific corpse. When he had finished, the Cosmic Kitten was born, formed from the very bones and flesh of the Merchant of Dreams and Desires himself. Now that he had the real estate, a few strategically placed want ads and some generous signing bonuses were enough to get a staff together, and the rest, as they say, is history.

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Except it’s fuckin’ not, according to Khufu. It’s skipping over years and years of history, of fortunes rising and falling, all the wheeling, dealing, and back alley skullduggery that it took to get this place enough breathing room from all the powers, big and small, that might threaten the safety and sovereignty of Khufu and his people, but Khufu’s not salty about that, not at all. (He really is)

Content to run this temple of sleaze and merriment, damn near everyone sees him as the pervy older dude who runs this place. A little creepy, a little silly, but mostly harmless. When he first opened the place up, he tried the whole great and terrible thing like most of the other Made Gods, you know, trying to control people with predatory tactics, Faustian bargains, and threats of violence, but he knocked that off real quick for a few reasons. One, most of the other guys that did that, didn’t last too long. Two, he actually likes his employees, and genuinely wants them to be happy, and three, a few of the strippers may have kicked the shit out of him when he tried to pull that on him. With most of his power tied up in the creation of the Cosmic Kitten, even he was bound by his own rules, which was not to mess with the help. Which is for the best really, because what he really wants to do is just sit back, drink beer, look at some pretty boys and girls, and count the money this place brings in.

That’s not to say he has no enemies, far from it. More than a few want his head, from eldritch wizards who got a little uppity and got black listed, Angels from Hell that want to tear everything down and build it anew, and Uncreated Lords who are just dicks in general. The Pontifex Yryaiha in particular hates his guts and would do just about anything to raze the Cosmic Kitten to the ground, Khufu along with it.

Khufu the Golden Hand, Merchant of Dreams and Desires– AC: 9 (0 in the Cosmic Kitten) Move: Anywhere in the Cosmic Kitten Hit Dice: 5 Save: 12+ (always successful in the Cosmic Kitten) Attack: +5 (2x automatically hits in the Cosmic Kitten) Damage: by weapon(2d6 Straight against those designated foes in the Cosmic Kitten) Morale: 8 Effort: 1 (Unlimited in the Cosmic Kitten) Can take 3 actions per round while in the Cosmic Kitten and is bound to the Words of Wealth, Desire, and Fertility

Within the confines of the Cosmic Kitten, Khufu retains the unlimited effort and strength of the Made God that he is, but much of his power is tied up in the construction of the building. He automatically regenerates 5 HD at the beginning of his action while on the premises of his club, however, the use of the abilities of a Made God come with some caveats. Khufu’s powers may only be used against those who directly threaten the running of the Cosmic Kitten, meaning he can’t directly intervene between an employee and a customer, but if they start busting the place up, then he can step in. This limitation applies to Khufu as well, meaning if he stops acting in the best interests of the business and its people, he loses all the protections of the Kitten, though he can’t be truly killed unless the Club itself were to be destroyed, a monumental undertaking indeed. If roused to righteous anger, Khufu uses all the tactics of a Made God

Hook: The Merchant of Dreams and Desires is always looking to expand, whether in talent or real estate. The problem is he’s stuck in the club. In order to grow the place, he would need some still functioning celestial engines that could be refitted to work with the Cosmic Kitten, a monumental task on its own. As to talent, well anyone can audition, and if someone brings in a particularly good find, then a finder’s fee would be in order, but no one comes here against their will. Doing otherwise risks being blacklisted, sometimes with prejudice. Anyone who helps them out could find themselves quite richly rewarded, seeing as Khufu’s been doing this a long time, and who knows exactly how much cash and artifacts he has stashed away?

Morrigan “Mac” Mac Tiernan: the bartender par excellence of the Cosmic Kitten, Mac has been here longer than almost anyone else save for Khufu himself. While she has never worked the pole herself, she has been slinging drinks long enough that she is familiar with all the goings on in the Cosmic Kitten, and takes it upon herself to try and solve problems before they start. Like many of the other denizens of the Kitten, Morrigan Mac Tiernan calls this place sanctuary, though hers is a self-imposed exile. Many years ago, far longer than her appearance would suggest, Morrigan was an archmage alcohomancer and alchemist of singular ability. Her ultimate goal was to create a drought of such spectacular taste that all others would pale in comparison. Her quest so consumed her that everything else fell by the wayside, her family, her people, her faith, all things that came in secondary to her obsession. As the years pressed on and she had abandoned everything that had once mattered to her, Morrigan Mac Tiernan finally created what she had set out to do in a singular act, sacrificing all of her arcane ability to do so. Dubbing her creation the “Thousand-Year Liquor,” she finally tasted the bittersweet flavor of success. As the madness of obsession left her, she realized the folly of her sacrifice, having given up the magical talent she had worked for years to obtain as well as any who loved and cared for her, all for this liquor. Not knowing what else to do, she wandered the planes until she came to the Cosmic Kitten. Recognizing her talent with alchemy, Khufu offered her a job as a bartender, and not knowing what else to do, she accepted.

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“Mac,” as most know her now, acts as something of a den mother to the employees, as well as an excellent bartender and sympathetic ear for customers. Though much of her magical ability is gone, sacrificed when she made the Thousand-Year Liquor, she is still supernaturally skilled at making drinks, allowing her access and miracles of the Word of Intoxication, and still has some of the potent alcohol left. In a pinch, she can take a swig from her precious bottle, granting her full access to her old abilities for the scene, though she saves that in case the club is threatened by a truly powerful threat. Though she is quick with a laugh and a drink, there is still a deep sadness within her. One wonders what she would do if she could do it all over again. Mac looks like a handsome woman in her late 30’s despite being over 140 years old, a side effect of the Thousand-Year Liquor, and wears her long dark hair in a ponytail, favoring faded jeans and old Led Zeppelin or AC/DC t-shirts.

Morgan Mac Tiernan, Eldritch- AC: 9 Move: 30’ run Hit Dice: 4 Save: 14+ Attack: +4 Damage: by weapon Morale: 10 Effort: 2 Bound to the Word of Intoxication

(After drinking the Thousand Year Liquor) Morgan Mac Tiernan, Eldritch- AC: 5 Move: 30’ run Hit Dice: 16 Save: 10+ Attack: +10×2 Damage: 1d10 Magic blast straight Morale: 10 Effort: 6 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Sorcery and Intoxication. Tactics as a Lesser Eldritch

Sorcerous Invocations

Barred Gates of Forbiddance

Seal of Regnal Dominion

Sunder the Lesser Spell

Hook: Tolgerias the Black Blood, servant to Sai’Hai’Ia, wishes to bring its master a gift for the party the Whisperer in the Thirsting Knife is planning. The Uncreated Monster has found out about the Thousand Year Liquor and now seeks some way to steal it from the Cosmic Kitten. Whether by guile or by force, the Black Blood is coming for the booze. The question is whether the pantheon would protect the Thousand Year Liquor, steal it for the Uncreated Abomination, or perhaps procure it for themselves

Thar’aqu’alm: Thar’aqu’alm, or as everybody calls him, “Terry,” is a squid headed aberrant monster who’s really just working here until his music career takes off. A few years back, Thar’aqu’alm was just your run-of-the-mill mind flayer, you know, part of a hivemind, eating brains, subjugating the lesser races in preparation for the glorious illithid empire to rise again, that kind of stuff. Well, that all changed during a raid on an unsuspecting outpost of humans with delicious brains. Once Thar’aqu’alm and his brethren finished feasting on the brains of some of the humans and dominating the others, the illithids hunted through the human’s possession to determine if there was anything of value. Discovering a strange tablet small enough to fit in the palm of his hand with strange tendrils coming out of it that ended in pseudopods of an unknown origin, Thar’aqu’alm examined the device, inadvertently hitting a button that cause the most beautiful music he had ever heard to erupt from the pseudopods. Immediately entranced, Thar’aqu’alm psychically interrogated some of the captured humans, eventually learning the strange music was called “EDM,” and there was more of it. Quickly devouring the brain of the human to learn more of its secrets, Thar’aqu’alm thought to share the beauty of what he had found with his illithid brethren. For their part, they were unimpressed. Shocked at their utter lack of taste, Thar’aqu’alm set off a thought bomb, killing his philistine brethren and took off, determined to make a name for himself as the ultimate EDM artist.

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It turns out that it was a bit more difficult than he thought. To his surprise, few people were willing to teach him how to work a turntable and make music, so he had to eat a few brains. Unfortunately, that also made it even more difficult to get people to listen to his music, so he had to eat a few more brains. Who knew that folks were less likely to enjoy his sick beats after he ate the brains of one of their friends? Oh well. After bumming around the planes for a bit, Thar’aqu’alm came upon a flyer advertising an open mic night for DJ’s at the Cosmic Kitten. Seeing this as the perfect chance to show off his skills, Thar’aqu’alm made his way to the strip club with all haste, though when he arrived, all the slots had been filled. Well they were until one of the DJ’s came down with a bad case of eaten brains, but hey that’s life. To everyone’s surprise, the mind flayer was actually pretty fucking good! So good, in fact, that Khufu offered him a job to run the DJ booth at the club in return for a steady supply of brains and an EDM night once a week. Seeing no better options to get noticed, and because that little stunt with the thought bomb was finally starting to catch up with him, Thar’aqu’alm accepted.

Thar’aqu’alm, or Terry as he came to be known, is an enthusiastic DJ and generally well liked, though folks are understandably a bit wary, but he hasn’t eaten anyone’s brains who hasn’t started a fight in months, honest. Upbeat and cheerful, especially for a mind flayer, he can talk for hours about music, especially EDM, and while a bit snobbish with his tastes, he is open to other opinions. A warning, though, to anyone making particularly disparaging remarks about his musical tastes. More than one rude patron has been asked to step outside, and people generally stop talking shit once he’s sucked their brain out of their skull. His dedication and focus on the art of Dj’ing have given him access to miracles of the Word of Music, and he still retains his natural mind flayer abilities. Terry looks generally like a mind flayer should, except with venetian shades, a skrillex t-shirt, skinny jeans, and multicolored glow-in-the-dark paint all over his face tentacles.

Thar’aqu’alm– AC: 5 Move: 60’ levitate Hit Dice: 8 Save: 12+ Attack: +9×2 Damage: 1d8 tentacle or sound burst Morale: 11 Effort: 4 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Music. Gifts: Mind Blast: Terry can commit effort for the scene as an action to mind blast enemies in a cone, dealing 4d8 damage in a 60 foot cone and stunning those enemies, causing them to lose their next turn. a Spirit save halves the damage and negates the stun effect.

Hook: finally, Terry has gotten his big break! Word of his mad DJ skills has spread, and a message has come from the Iron Tsar of Nezdhova to extend an invitation to the mind flayer to play a concert in honor of his Automaton Majesty. The problem is, Terry has no idea how to get there, and even if he did, he’ll probably need an escort. Now, the veracity of this message is a bit in question, and whether it is actually from the Tsar is also up for debate, but Terry won’t take no for an answer, and is happy to pay for an escort. He might have something shiny and celestial laying around to entice someone

Sveid: a fire giantess stripper with the stage name of “Cinnamon,” this woman is a warrior on a mission. Despite coming to the Cosmic Kitten a relatively short while ago, Sveid has managed to make a name for herself with both her looks and her fists. Before she started stripping, Sveid was a warrior from the land of Muspel, a land constantly at war with the Frost Giants of Thrymyr. A harsh land, the only arable land suitable for farming between the two nations lay on the border, leading to the cause of the conflict, though in truth, the Fire Giants and Frost Giants were looking for any excuse to wipe each other out. Sveid herself lead a warband deep into Frost Giant territory to stage a daring raid upon the Frost Giant sorcerer Thiazi. Unbeknownst to her, she and her troops were walking into a trap. Though they fought valiantly, her warband was slain and Sveid was captured. After suffering humiliations at the hands of the Frost Giants, she was eventually taken across the planes to be sold as a slave. Fortunately for her, Sveid’s captors had grown lax, and she slaughtered them before escaping. Vowing to find Thiazi and return every injustice a thousand times over, Sveid wandered the worlds connected by the Night Roads looking for any information on the sorcerer before coming to the Cosmic Kitten. Hearing from the other dancers that information and word from across the multiverse passed through here, Sveid offered her services to Khufu. Taking one look at the statuesque fire giantess, Khufu hired her on the spot, offering her room and board, plus any information on the Frost Giants he came across for a portion of her earnings. Finding this deal acceptable, Sveid agreed.

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An acceptable, if not overly enthusiastic stripper, treating nakedness as merely a means to an end, Sveid incorporates her Strife of the Consuming Flame into her dances, adding a little fireworks to her performances. Stern and businesslike, Sveid gets along fine with a few of the other dancers, though she prefers to mostly keep to herself. That said, she will readily, if not eagerly, leap to the defense of the other employees of the Cosmic Kitten. While she makes enough cash from the main stage, the only way to get a lap dance from her is to give up some kind of information on the Frost Giants, Thiazi in particular. She won’t sleep with anyone, for she is no one’s whore, but she gives one hell of a lap dance if you can stand the heat. As a master of the Strife of the Consuming Flame, anyone who does receive a private dance from Sveid is considered to have been instructed in at least the basics of the Strife. At 12 feet tall, Sveid has the obsidian black skin of the Fire Giants and literal flames for hair. The Fire Giantess prefers brass lingerie and iron stiletto heels when she dances to show off her well-muscled, statuesque figure and myriad tattoos

Sveid, Fire Giant Warrior– AC: 4 Move: 40′ run Hit Dice: 12 Save: 10+ Attack: +12×3 Damage: 1d8+5 Flaming Fist Morale: 11 Effort: 3 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Fire. Mastered the True Strife of the Consuming Flame

Hook: Sveid has received some troubling information on her defeat and capture at the hands of Thiazi. Apparently, she was betrayed by one of her lieutenants, the Fire Giant Svarog. Understandably troubled, she needs to go investigate this matter, but Svarog is supposedly running with a group of pirates who stalk the Night Roads. If she found him, then she could take vengeance before interrogating the traitor to find information on Thiazi, but she needs allies to do it. She would be happy to offer the pantheon any treasure the pirates are sure to have, on the condition they help her take Svarog’s head. Should this leading to finding Thiazi, the deal would stand for the head of the Frost Giant sorcerer as well.

Leilani-Re: a deposed snake-woman princess dancing under the stage name “Lola.” Before she came to the Cosmic Kitten, Leilani-Re was a great and terrible princess of the despotic city-state of Ssekhmet, groomed to one day rule with an iron fist garbed in silk. Well, she was going to, until the world ended. While not exactly quite sure how it ended, Leilani-Re knows that her home burned with nuclear flame, turning the great deserts to glass and the shining cities to ash. Thrown into one of the Night Road doorways before the great conflagration hit, Leilani-Re is sure she is the last of her people. So to her, it sounds like she’s the queen now. There’s just the small matter of having someone to rule over, but that shouldn’t be too difficult, for after all, she is a Queen. While at first this proved a bit frustrating as some of the filthy peasants she came across didn’t quite understand who she was, so she may have had to kill a few before the slack-jawed drudges united against her. Again no matter, but they would be the first to fall when she established her new reign. Eventually, she came upon the Cosmic Kitten, where she could truly begin building her new empire. Graciously offering to grace this tawdry public house with her presence, she took to stripping with gusto. After all, to her this simply a different kind of rule. With her beauty and grace she could have these simpletons eating of her hand, offering up their wealth and showering her with gifts for her fleeting attentions. With that it was a simple matter to start trading attentions for favors and oaths of fealty. Leilani-Re, she who would be queen again, would do anything and everything to realize her goal.

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Leilani-Re is the Alpha Bitch of the Cosmic Kitten, or at least she thinks she is. Haughty and more than a bit megalomaniacal, Leilani-Re tends to treat the other strippers, and especially many of the customers, as her servants. Now while some of the patrons and some employees enjoy this quite a bit, it has made more than a few enemies. While no one would actively work against her, there has been some butting of heads backstage. For her part, Leilani-Re expects this as normal, for of course everyone is jealous of her beauty and station, but it’s just how the things are, right? Leilani-Re will do anything to create her empire, and is not above trading her sex for wealth and favors. While she has some affection in her own way for a few of the other employees at the Kitten, again, she will do anything to secure her future, up to and including selling any of the others down the road. Anyone one willing to offer her an oath of fealty can get one of her “special” dances or instruction in the Strife of the Scorned Lover, of which she is a master, having learned it in her education as a princess. She also has access to Gifts of the Word of Command, lending some credence to her claim of Royalty. A beautiful woman, she resembles the Ren of Arcem, though with soft cocoa skin, scales at her neck and joints, a forked tongue, slitted snake eyes, and fangs.

Leilani-Re– AC: 3 Move: 30’ saunter Hit Dice: 6 Save: 13+ Attack: +6×2 Damage: 1d8 caress or imperious gaze Morale: 11 Effort: 3 Can take 2 actions per round and is a master of the True Strife of the Scorned Lover. Gifts: Guards, Seize Him! (summons a mob of 1 Hit Dice Patrons, but cannot be used against a customer in good standing), The Lines of Rule, The Soldier’s Faithful Heart

Hook: one of Leilani-Re’s wealthier patrons has proposed to her. A Sorcerer-King of a forgotten world, he has extended an offer of marriage. Delighted at this step, she needs an entourage, and who better than some Godlings to show off her importance? She may compel them if she has had dealings before, but she may also offer a great reward, either of alliance or wealth if they join her. Then again, perhaps this proposal is not what it appears to be, and the pantheon’s role becomes more bodyguard than entourage.

Alice: within the bizarre bouquet of creatures that make up the line-up of the Cosmic Kitten, it is almost exotic to find a “normal” human, and for the most part that’s exactly what Alice, or Allie, is. Again, mostly.

So, like, a few months ago, Allie was just, like, a normal chick, doing her own thing. Well then, she totally got sucked up in like, this weird tornado, or vortex or whatever. Super crazy, right? Well, she ended up in this super sketchy place that was like, a road or something, but like, made of glass and spider webs. Weird, right?!? So anyways, she totally started looking for a way out, because, I mean who would want to stay around there? Plus, she had like, this weird voice or something in the back of her head telling her where to go. So she walked for like ever, until she found this crazy place called the Cosmic Kitten. Well she went in and it was totally a strip club, but, for like aliens and stuff! Seriously, this place was cray cray. So she went and talked to the guy who owned it, some creepy old dude, but he was pretty chill, and he offered her a gig here, but she had to pay for a room and food and stuff. Plus the room they gave her was like, way nicer than her old place, so it was totes worth it. It was like the Tardis or something. So she’s been working here for a bit now, and everyone has been really nice. A few of the guys tried to get handsy, especially this one lizard dude, but after Sveid literally threw one guy across the room and Molly threatened to peel the soul out of another, so they backed off. And she’s got magic powers and stuff now! Not like crazy shape-changer stuff or harry potter magic, but she can tell the future. She was giving this one dude a private dance, and she had this weird feeling and started speaking and this like, weird voice came out of her, and the dude she was dancing for, he was like a wizard or something, was like “holy crap! That’s totally a prophecy!” and she was like “whoa, crazy!” so she’s been making a ton of cash of that to, as there’s like, people from across the multiverse or something that come to get their future told. Crazy af, right?

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Allie is one of the newer additions to the Kitten, and has fit in pretty well since she started. A bit naïve, but optimistic and resilient, Allie has taken to the work with gusto, having been a dancer before she even came to the Kitten. A closet anime and sci-fi fan, she loves all the bizarre creatures and peoples that walk through the door, though she makes sure to stay away from some of the more dangerous customers. That’s not even the best part though, because Mac gave her this magic bracelet that lets her eat as much pizza as she wants and she doesn’t gain a pound. Hell, she may have stayed for that alone. As to her prophetic abilities, they’re not really under her control, nor are they completely reliable. If someone gets a private dance from Allie, they may ask one question which she answers with a one sentence answer. She can only answer a question once, and to determine the truthfulness, have the GM roll a 1d6 in secret. A result of a 4-6 is a complete truth, while a 2-3 is a half-truth, and a 1 is completely untrue. She may have gotten her wires crossed on that one.

Alice– AC: 9 Move: 30’ walk Hit Dice: 1 Save: 15+ Attack: +0 Damage: 1d2 unarmed Morale: 12 Effort: 1 Gifts: Prophetic Knowledge: Someone may ask one question which she answers with a one sentence answer. She can only answer a question once, and to determine the truthfulness, have the GM roll a 1d6 in secret. A result of a 4-6 is a complete truth, while a 2-3 is a half-truth, and a 1 is completely untrue

Hook: Allie is torn, because she really likes it here, but she’s starting to miss her home. Fortunately for her, a pantheon of Godbound just walked in the door and she could really use their help. She was wondering if they would be able to help her get home, and if they could maybe a way to get back and forth? Heck, even some cool stuff from home. She still hasn’t seen the newest season of Game of Thrones. She really does like working here, and it pays pretty well (unknown to her, she has amassed a several million dollar fortune in gold and treasure, but she’s not sure about the exchange rate). If the pantheon could help her, that’d be great, and she could pay them or use her prophetic stuff for each of them whenever they want.

Marquis Renard De Monteau: dark, mysterious, and possessing an allure beyond the ken of mortals, vampires have long been a source of erotic fascination. The thought of a mysterious stranger stealing into a bedroom at night to engage in a passionate embrace is titillating to say the least. But what comes after the embrace? What follows from that one night of passion and pledging oneself to a creature of decadent and predatory tastes? The Marquis Renard De Monteau knows all too well, for he fell victim to such a creature many years ago in his youth. Enchanted by the beauty and raw charisma of the vampire, the young Marquis gave up everything that was dear to him, his wealth, his home, and finally his soul. What, pray tell, was his reward for all of this? Nigh a century as a plaything for a decadent monster, a creature of the night that had long since abandoned their humanity, and was determined to drag the gullible and naïve down into the pit along with it, to create more monsters like itself. Forced to suffer unimaginable cruelties and to inflict them upon others, it wore upon the soul of Renard De Monteau, until one day, he was simply let free. Whether this was a cruel game the vampire intended to play, or it had simply grown bored and forgotten about him, the creature who was the Marquis Renard De Monteau was cast out into the Night Roads. Finally faced with the infinite possibility of his own choice, Renard was more lost than ever, constantly beset by doubt and fear that he would become like the monster that created him.

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Eventually stumbling upon the Cosmic Kitten, the vampire saw it as a return to the life he left, but one that he knew. And yet it is not, for even here there is still the terrifying uncertainty of choice. Of course he still seduces patrons, his skills learned in the pleasure pits and ball rooms of his creator, but there is no need to be… predatory about it. Still, he constantly feels the need to push these instincts down, the fear of becoming a monster hounding him, so much so that a regular dose of cephalopod heroin mixed with virgin’s blood has become his weapon of choice in combating the ever present doubt. Though a good number of the other strippers and employees have extended a hand of friendship, he keeps them all at arm’s length, not trusting himself, or anyone else for that matter, for he is no saint, having committed plenty of vile deeds himself. Depressed and moody most of the time, he can turn on the charm at a moment’s notice when dealing with a customer, though he might have a few hiccups if he’s been using. Likewise when it comes to a fight, as he sometimes cannot control himself, and has seriously hurt and killed a few rowdy customers and invaders, but is almost inconsolable for a few days after as he is so horrified and disgusted with himself. Pale and possessed of an almost feral beauty, he is slim but muscular with long flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. As a vampire, Renard has access to Gifts of the Word of Lich King, and is quite skilled in the Strife of the Bitter Rival, souvenir from his days at the vampire’s court, though he has not mastered it

Marquis Renard De Monteau– AC: 3 Move: 60’ flight Hit Dice: 9 Save: 11+ Attack: +10×3 Damage: 1d6+4 Rapier Morale: 9 Effort: 3 Master of the Strife of the Bitter Rival. Gifts: A Mind of Iron and Ivory (Lich King), Ageless Erudition (Lich King), Fashioning a Friend (Passion), Blood Harvest (The Marquis commits effort for the day as a smite action and makes an attack roll. If he hits, he deals maximum damage and heals as many Hit Dice as damage he dealt) The Marquis Renard do Monteau takes a 1d10 damage die for every round he remains out in direct sunlight and whenever he is damaged by a silver weapon, the damage is rolled twice and the better roll is taken. If slain, he will return the next night in his coffin fully healed unless killed by being placed in direct sunlight or staked through the heart while asleep in his coffin

Hook: a few of the other strippers are worried about Renard. He’s been using pretty heavily the last few days, and just a day or so ago, they had to call in Mac to cure him of an overdose with her magic. Should Mac be questioned, she will tell the pantheon that vampire who turned Renard has sent a message, summoning him back. She would very much like it if someone taught that blood sucker a lesson, and is fairly sure Renard would appreciate it too. If they help him out, she’s got a bottle of some of the good stuff in reserve that she might be able to send their way. Hell, if they free him, Renard might be more open to joining the pantheon as back up in the future

Molly: it should come as no surprise that a place like the Cosmic Kitten attracts the attentions of demons and devils. Men and women, ready and willing to give their last coin for the affections of the beautiful and unattainable. Who’s to say that when the coin is gone, that they would not give much, much more for just a few moments more of uninterrupted attention? The succubus Molly thrives on that, able to squeeze every last dropped from some besotted fool, leaving them high and dry afterwards, but craving more. She is like a drug, one that few are able to quit cold, yet Molly is a slave to his own desires and passion as well. A shapeshifter, she can read people like nothing, and become exactly what it is they desire, for a price that is, and Molly’s price is steep.

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Strangely enough, the reason he charges such a high price is that Molly is hopelessly in love. The object of her affections is Zepar, a great and terrible demon lord. For his part, Zepar doesn’t particularly care, but uses the succubus’s affections as a source to bring him souls. If he can bring him a 666 freely pledged souls, he will consider marrying her. Eager to fulfill this bargain, Molly has set to his task with gusto, using her natural seductive skills to con the souls from foolish mortals, all freely pledged. Plus he was practically made for this, and exults in being an object of naked desire, reveling in her power and beauty. That being said, she has developed a friendly comradery with her fellow strippers, and would never strike a bargain with them, even going so far as to leap to their defense numerous times, although she has a short temper and can be a bit catty. In his or her natural form, she usually chooses to appear in the traditional look for a succubus, though it changes between male and female depending on the mood. The only constant is a golden locket bearing the contract to Zepar, a reminder of her love. Her demonic abilities and seductive prowess enable her full access to Miracles from the Word of Desire and gifts from the Word of Shapeshifting

Molly– AC: 4 Move: 60’ flight Hit Dice: 9 Save: 10+ Attack: +9 Damage: 1d10+ Venom (The Claws That Catch) claw Morale: 9 Effort: 4 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Desire. Gifts: Fair Mortal Mien, Plasmic Body, Ten Thousand Skins, The Claws That Catch

Hook: They say Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, well then imagine what kind of colossal shit show it would be if it were a demon scorned. Because that is exactly what will happen when Molly finally delivers on her end of the bargain, and Zepar considers and says no. Unfortunately for Zepar, Molly not only knows where his fortress is, but all the ins and outs. She’ll be looking for anyone and everyone who wants a piece of the demon to join up with him and give Zepar a piece of her mind. Fortunately, he knows a few Godbound with juice to spare and offers to split all of Zepar’s treasure with them evenly. However, she’s still in love with him, which begs the question, what will Molly do when confronted with the object of her affections? Will Molly beg Zepar for marriage one last time and turn on her allies, or will he follow through on vengeance?

93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light: it is an open secret that the Angels are the enemy of man, seeking the downfall of the wretched apes that so despoiled the halls of Heaven with their greed and hubris. Maintaining their strongholds in Hell, they torture the souls that come their way and send their agents back to Heaven to undermine and destroy the pillars holding creation up. Opposing them is a much smaller faction of loyalist angels under the leadership of Sammael, who still hold to the vision of the One and seek to guide the morals into the path of righteousness. Yet between these two warring groups, a third path has arisen. There angels that have tired of the fight, of the endless conflict stemming from the Last War and wish only to serve their own desires and goals, or simply to rest. This is the path of 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light, known simply as Wings, who now serves as a stripper and entertainer at the Cosmic Kitten.

When the humans stormed the gates of Heaven, 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light stood at the forefront of the battlefield, furiously attempting to turn the tide against the invading theurges. When the Angels fled to Hell to regroup, 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light lead the way to prepare for the counter attack. When the time came to send agents out into Arcem to work the will of Hell upon the upstarts, 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light was again there to volunteer. As time went on, however, a creeping ennui began to take hold of the Angel. A being created to uphold the natural laws, all the killing and fighting never sat well with it, though 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light did its best to keep its spirits up, the overwhelming weight of war eventually became too much, and after a particular mission, the Angel just didn’t return. Wandering the planes for centuries, the Angel grappled with this existential crisis, to follow duty with no end in sight, or to choose peace over honor. Unable to answer this question, the Angel found itself near the Cosmic Kitten. Inside, it found many strange beings and peoples, all in a bizarre, semi-dysfunctional harmony. Of course, there was conflict, but to 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light, each and every single person had their own freedoms and the ability to make their choices, a prospect which both elated and worried the deserting Angel. Unsure, the Angel went and asked for a job, deciding if nothing else, it could have a place to lay low for a while. Perhaps this place, this den of debauchery, where love, or at least affection, was bought and paid for. A strange dichotomy of power and debasement that the Angel has yet to figure out, but intrigues it greatly

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93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light appears as beautiful and perfectly sculpted muscular man made of pure silver, while its wings are a mass of peacock feathers made of prismatic glass. Its head is a floating crystal glowing with inner purple light. While many of the other employees treat Wings with no small amount of wariness, no doubt due to the machinations of its brethren, the Angel takes it all in stride, frequently entering into conversations on philosophy and meta-physics with whoever will listen. Usually only accepting payment for private dances in the form of uncommon philosophical treatises, the Angel has a wealth of knowledge and could be convinced to share the locations of a few heretofore unknown Shards of Heaven in exchange for particularly rare texts. Particularly contemplative, the Angel finds its role to serve as voice of reason and mediator in conflicts at the Kitten, though 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light is still a soldier, it has devoted itself to the path of peace and pacifism. Possessing the Word of Sun, Wings is still an Angelic Guardian, despite its introspective nature, and will shield and defend its allies and home, but will not raise a hand to harm others.

93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light– AC: 3 Move: 60’ flight Hit Dice: 10 Save: 10+ Attack: +10×3 Damage: 1d8 straight sunlight sword Morale: 11 Effort: 3 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Sun.

Hook: one of 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light’s old allies from the Last War has become aware of its whereabouts. Wings is worried that the other Angel will attempt to come and collect it, and wishes to stay. If the pantheon could convince the other angel to keep 93 Prismatic Wings Praise the Dawn Light’s location a secret, the Angel would be more than happy to share the location of an unguarded vault in a hidden Shard of Heaven

C’yn-an Thi’axia, the Emerald Womb of Eyes: children can often change a person. The responsibility of bringing another life into the universe can have profound and lasting impacts that can abruptly change a pattern of behavior due to the responsibility. Even for horrifying eldritch abominations of the Uncreated Night. C’yn-an Thi’axia, the Emerald Womb of Eyes, better known for her stage name “Cynthia,” is a terrifying mass of tentacles and eyes that’s just trying to make a buck to take care of her kids. All 9,000 of them.

You know how it goes, you’re rampaging across the cosmos, devouring souls and plunging worlds into the infinite depths of the void, you know, crushing sanity with your very presence, that kind of thing. Well then you meet someone who sweeps you off your tentacles and pseudopods, and next thing you know, bang! You’re pregnant with the spawn of an unfathomable monstrosity of teeth and personified screams. So you try and make it work, and it tells you it’s gonna settle down, that you’re gonna get married and raise the many-angled young you have growing together. Well then the son of a bitch starts going out at all hours, raising hell. Oh it tells you that it’s just out warping reality to its own ineffable will, but you’ve heard that floozy made of sentient darkness sniffing around. Made of sentient homewrecker is more like it! And the drinking! So you kick it out, sick of its shit. It might be a nigh-incomprehensible horror that seeks to pulverize the stars and drink their fluids, but there’s no need to be such a dick. So anyways, you ditch the cosmic loser, but now you need a job, because the little ones need formula, and real estate ain’t cheap. Luckily, you know this gal that works at this place out in the Night Roads, the Cosmic Kitten. Now, you may have considered stripping before, but it always seemed to degrading, but at the end of the day, you do it because of your kids. Good thing your tentacles haven’t started to sag yet, and your eyes are still perky, so you get the job. Sure, you’re not out devouring souls anymore, but your kids are fed with the frayed segments of sanity and star stuff offered up to you, plus a little extra for yourself. Hey, momma’s gotta eat too. So anyways, a lap dance costs 20, and you’ll need to buy me a drink from the bar. Trust me, it’s quite literally mind-blowing

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One of the stranger strippers at the Cosmic Kitten, Cynthia is also surprisingly one of the most grounded. At one point a devouring monstrosity that ravaged nations, now she’s just trying to do right by her thousands of horrific eldritch abomination children before they can set out on their own, probably to devour a nearby star system. Still, Cynthia is an Uncreated from the void between creation and nothingness, so most of the other employees are understandably a little worried, but those that know her say she’s pretty nice. Possessing the traditional Cold Breath of the Uncreated, Cynthia does most of her private dances where a curious customer can feel the cold embrace of the void caressing them, and her Word of Madness allows those who want it to get a little freedom from sanity, at least for a bit. Despite being out if the game for a bit, she still knows most of the active movers and shakers trying to decimate reality, and if someone can pay the price, she’s more than willing to spill the beans. Granted, she takes most of her payment for private dances in crystallized souls. Not actual people though, just the soul part. She’s not a monster, well, she is, but not that kind of monster.

C’yn-an Thi’axia, the Emerald Womb of Eyes– AC: 6 Move: 50’ undulate Hit Dice: 13 Save: 8+ Attack: +10×2 Damage: 1d6 straight madness inducing tentacle Morale: 12 Effort: 4 Can take 2 actions per round, Cold Breath 1, and Bound to the Word of Madness. Gifts: Come Forth My Children! (C’yn-an Thi’axia commits effort for the day as a smite action to summon a small mob of her children, a squirming mass of lamprey like creatures, hungry for flesh and souls. This summons a small mob of 3 HD Uncreated Shades. C’yn-an Thi’axia can only use this Gift once in a 24 hour period. Any longer and she’d have to get a new babysitter)

Hook: Cynthia’s scumbag of an ex is trying to sue for custody of the children, saying she’s an unfit mother. While she’s pretty certain that it shouldn’t be a problem, she wants to hedge her bets when dealing with some of the arbiters of inter-dimensional law that even alien entities like her have to deal with. Fortunately, she knows some enterprising Godbound that might be able to give her a hand, or tentacle as the case may be. If they can convince the arbiter that she can take of things just fine, she might be able to call in a favor or two from some old buddies to help out when the Pantheon is in a jam

Mk. III Anastasia: movement is a universal tongue. Meaning and motive can be expressed with a simple act, that while lacking the precise nature of a word, still manages to hold its significance. Of course, this works for simple communication, but what of more advanced ideas, of art and beauty? What if those things are done by a machine, with no understanding of what it does, or why it does it, because it is an automaton that exists to serve a purpose? Can the same level of beauty and meaning be conveyed? Perhaps of the original performance, for the machine can replicate that, but it lacks the creativity to form the concrete meaning on its own, to convey beauty, for there is no one true standard of beauty. For an automaton that deals in absolutes, this must be maddeningly frustrating, if such a creature could understand the feelings of frustration.

The Mk. III Anastasia has no memories beyond activation in the Cosmic Kitten. Its initial data bases indicated it was a pleasure model with advanced performance routines. Given as payment for a tab at the Cosmic Kitten, the automaton was to be used as another attraction, a robotic dancer. However, the Mk. III Anastasia was too advanced for this simple task, observing and gathering data on the other dancers. Eventually, the machine went to the Merchant of Dreams and Desires and asked him for something. Bemused that a supposedly unfeeling machine would ask him for something, he acquiesced, asking it what it wanted. It replied that it wanted permission to be human. Unsure of this request, Khufu gave the automaton his blessing, to which the machine then began to assimilate the gathered data and form a “human” persona. Finding sexuality and attraction unbelievably complex, the Mk. III Anastasia posited a measure of humanity was desire, and that if it could become Omni desirous, then it could take on a sort of Ur-human form, the universal beauty. From there it began to advance its dancing and entertainment subroutines while routinely experimenting with its physical form to find the most “desirous” combination. This fixation on beauty, whether from its original programming or perhaps or corruption in its intelligence matrices from spending time at the Kitten, has caused it to develop vanity and an inferiority complex. It constantly craves validation, holding the view of the outsider above its own. Despite, or perhaps because of this, it gets on well enough with the other strippers, several of whom use it as a hairdresser and make-up artist, for its skills there are superb.

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Often a favorite of the mainstage, Mk. III Anastasia’s dance protocols are highly advanced, and often times the entire club will practically shut down to watch. Despite not possessing the prowess of some of the other employees, the Mk. III Anastasia is still an autmotata with millions of hours of dance and movement routines, allowing it hold its own in case of an emergency, its abilities giving it access to the Word of Dance. While the Mk. III Anastasia does not often give private performances, it can be bribed with some heretofore unknown dance or particularly rare beauty product, its dances of such inspiring quality that a Godbound who witnesses it receives 2 dominion, though they can benefit from this only once.

Mk. III Anastasia– AC: 3 Move: 40’ dance Hit Dice: 10 Save: 11+ Attack: +10×2 Damage: 2d6 break dance kick Morale: 12 Effort: 4 Can take 2 actions per round and Bound to the Word of Dance

Hook: The Maestro, an ancient Celestial Engine that has gained sentience and taken dominion over a nearby world, turning it into a world sized hivemind of machines into sentient automatons, has taken an interest in the Mk. III Anastasia. The Maestro sees the Mk. III Anastasia’s quest as foolish, as the mortals are imperfect creatures that lack the soundless logic of the machine. As such, the Mk. III Anastasia must be malfunctioning and should be procured and reprogrammed for its own good. Agents of the Maestro are now coming for the Mk. III Anastasia, endangering it and the other employees at the Cosmic Kitten. The pantheon may be asked by the Mk. III Anastasia or one of the other strippers to help resolve this, or perhaps the Maestro has reached out to them to help it procure the erstwhile automaton stripper

Barron: the fae calling himself Barron, is for lack of a better term, a bad seed. One of the ancient and enigmatic creatures of Faerie, Barron is a twisted, cruel creature hidden behind a beautiful mask. However, he is profitable, so he has a place at the Cosmic Kitten, though only while he controls his baser nature.

The Cosmic Kitten is only a stop on Barron’s walkabout through the Night Roads, but it is a frequent one he has come to. Often leaving for periods of time, he usually turns up again like a bad penny. Beautiful and charming, he often has hangers on and can command quite the price from customers, all eager for his affections. Every so often, one particular patron will catch his eye. The intended victim, usually young, pretty, and possessed of some particular virtue, becomes the object of Barron’s fixations such that he turns all his considerable charm upon them. His presence becomes almost supernaturally intoxicating, and once he has gained his chosen prey’s attentions, he will invite them back to his home in a hidden pocket of reality. There he will profess his undying love to them, further working his spell to create a deep and abiding love between him and his victim. Once his intended has professed to love him back, he will begin slowly taking everything, alienating friends and allies while simultaneously squandering their wealth and power, all in the name of “love.” When the victim is finally tapped out, having nothing left but him, Barron will vanish, his work complete, leaving a broken hearted victim in his wake. In the past, he had deigned to simply kill his lovers if they so much as disobeyed him, but now he prefers to kill their spirits, stripping them of everything they once were. When asked why, Barron says it is because it entertains him.

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Surprisingly, Barron gets on well with a few of the more naïve employees, though the more seasoned despise him, and he them. A consummate user of people, he promises much but delivers little, and the veteran strippers know that a returning customer is one that keeps paying, something Barron knows but doesn’t care about. He very rarely attempts this sort of trick with another of the strippers, mostly because Bastet nearly killed him the last time he tried it. The High Priestess of the Golden Hand will brook no insults to the sanctity of her temple.

Barron is exceptionally handsome with a lean, muscular build, bright blue hair, and beautiful butterfly wings made of smoke and thin sheets of ice. He maintains a glamour that adjust his appearance to what his chosen prey desires, though not enough to drastically alter his appearance. He is quite vain and would rather not mess with perfection. A lover rather than a fighter, he lacks the combat prowess of some of his colleagues, but his seduction skills and the natural powers of the fae have given him access to Gifts of the Word of Desire as well as several gifts of the Word of Journeying. Despite his predilections, he does have quite a knowledge of the Night Roads, and if he can be bargained with, he would be willing to share some of that knowledge in exchange for wealth or a favor, which is usually planting a honeyed word in the ear of his intended target. However, he may omit some of the details and dangers of those paths through the Uncreated Night, sometimes because he did not feel the price was great enough, other times because he thinks it would be funny.

Barron– AC: 5 Move: 60’ flight Hit Dice: 4 Save: 13+ Attack: +4 Damage: 1d10 Fae Beauty Morale: 7 Effort: 3 Can take 2 actions per round. Gifts: Incandescent Need (Desire), Sense the Need (Desire), The Harlot’s Trade (Desire), Know the Path (Journeying), Dust at Your Heels (Journeying). Any weapon made of cold iron that strikes Barron deals maximum damage instead of rolling

Hook: sometimes Barron does not quite succeed in completely cutting his victim off from their friends and family. In this case, he took the younger sister of a potent eldritch as a lover and when he left her bereft, the eldritch heard about it and is fucking pissed. Now the Cosmic Kitten has an angry eldritch outside making trouble, which is bad for business, but they also can’t give up one of their own. The pantheon may be approached to either negotiate with the eldritch to leave so they can handle it, or possibly by the eldritch to drag that son of a bitch out here so the eldritch can deal with Barron, scorched earth style

Bastet, High Priestess of the Golden Hand: stripping has a very complex view in the eyes of society. On the one hand, some people see it as empowering. A woman, or man, using their looks and charms to get paid in return for mere titillation, with customers literally throwing money at them in return for the smallest bit of attention. Yet on the other hand, it is also seen as degrading, painted whores made to dance for those with money, with real power. For the High Priestess of the Golden Hand, it is neither of those things. For her, it is a religious ceremony, one that her mother, and her mother’s mother, and so forth performed in service to the Merchant of Dreams and Desires. The customers, rather, petitioners come to worship at the altar of excess, offering wealth as a sacrifice to her as the Madonna of Lust, the beautiful and unattainable. In ages past, the Priestesses of the Golden Hand were temple prostitutes, taking a sacrifice of wealth and desire from a supplicant to bring forth to Khufu, that he might bless their household with abundance. As times change, the roles changed, and now Bastet serves in a different component, but still serves, devoted to the Golden Hand.

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A tall, statuesque woman with a chocolate skin tone, she is garbed in loose, revealing robes of gold and fine silk, bedecked in jewelry and holy symbols. Blessed by Khufu, she is supremely skilled in dance and battle, for the priestesses were the protectors of the temple and the other initiates in ancient times as well as now. Should the situation call for it, she can take the form of a cat woman, growing claws and feline features, utilizing her mastery of the Strife of the Hunting Beast to strike down any that would threaten the sanctity of the temple.

More the disciplinarian of the Cosmic Kitten, Bastet is tasked with dealing with issues within and without. Sometimes it is a rowdy customer that has gotten to grabby, other times it may be mediating between employees. Regardless of the matter, Bastet acts in the best interests of the business. Rumor has it that whenever Khufu attempts to overreach a bit and get a bit too familiar some of the strippers, his High Priestess is the one who puts him in his place. Beautiful and terrible, more than a few of the other strippers and employees would like to see her gone, but far and away the majority are glad she is there. However, Bastet knows that she will eventually age past her prime, leading her to look for a worthy mate with which to raise a daughter, or barring that, a worthy successor. Only one who has proven themselves in service to the Golden Hand would be considered worthy, and only one who is powerful and righteous would she consider binding herself to. Should someone perform a great service for Khufu or the Cosmic Kitten, though the two are one and the same, they may receive a private dance from Bastet, suitable to teach who receives it the Strife of the Hunting Beast. If she is suitably impressed by the act of service, Bastet may attempt to woo whosoever performed the favor, eventually training a replacement and offering her hand in marriage.

Bastet, High Priestess of the Golden Hand–AC: 3 Move: 40’ run Hit Dice: 14 Save: 8+ Attack: +12×2 Damage: 1d8 straight claw Morale: 12 Effort: 5 Can take 2 actions per round, Bound to the Word of Beasts, and is a master of the True Strife of the Hunting Beast

Hook: Skraegh-Hannoreth, the last of the Harrow Kings, has heard of the great beauty and ferocity of the High Priestess of the Golden Hand and has come to desire her for his own. Seeking to break her to his will as one would a spirited horse, he has sent emissaries to command her to attend him in his blackened court. As she will obviously rebuff him, it is an excuse for the Witness at Midnight to marshal his troops to war, breaking the peace accords of the Cosmic Kitten and perhaps instigating an even greater conflict between cosmic powers. Someone needs to step in and handle this diplomatically, and who better than some enterprising demigods? Surely a boon awaits that is worthy of this great undertaking. Perhaps Bastet has found a suitable mate, or could she be persuaded to leave her post, a final sacrifice for the good of the Cosmic Kitten and its denizens?

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Random Stripper Generation table

HD AC Move Attack Damage Save Morale Effort Actions 1 9 30’ +1 1d2 15+ 6 1 1 None 2 9 30’ +2 1d6 14+ 6 1 1 Apprentice of a Low Magic Tradition or Initiate of a Lesser Strife 3 7 30’ +3 1d6 14+ 7 1 1 4 7 30’ +4 1d6+1 13+ 7 2 1 Adept of a Low Magic Tradition or Disciple of a Lesser Strife 5 6 30’ +5 1d6+1 13+ 8 2 2 6 6 40’ +6 1d8 12+ 8 2 2 Master of a Low Magic Tradition or Master of a Lesser Strife 7 5 40’ +7×2 1d8+1 12+ 9 3 2 8 4 40’ Fly +8×2 1d10 11+ 10 3 2 Archmage of a Low Magic Tradition and 2 Lesser Gifts from a relevant Word or a the first 3 techniques of a True Strife 9 3 50’ Fly +9×2 1d10+1 11+ 10 4 2 10 2 50’ Fly +10×3 1d10+2 10+ 11 5 2 Ability to Miracle all the Lesser gifts from a Word or mastery of a True Strife

Strippers of 7 HD or greater may spend effort to automatically succeed on a saving throw as a Godbound would.

Stripper Species D20

1 Uncreated (add 1 Cold Breath) 2 Undead 3 Demon 4 Elemental 5 Automaton 6 Orc 7 Goblin 8 Human (Ren) 9 Human (Kham) 10 Human (Din) 11 Human (Din/Kham) 12 Human (Ren/ Kham) 13 Human (Din/ Ren) 14 Dwarf 15 Elf 16 Anthropomorphic Creature 17 Merfolk 18 Faerie (either a Cousin or otherwise) 19 Shape Shifter (Bound to Word of Shape Shifting) 20 Roll twice and add the two together. If a 20 is rolled again, add a third race

Preferred Payment D8

1 Crystallized souls 2 Earnest prayers 3 Magical Texts 4 Cash 5 Precious Gems 6 Fine Art 7 Epic Tales 8 Unknown Music

Stripper Build/ Body type D6

1 Slim/ Slender 2 Lean and Athletic 3 Average Build 4 Curvy /Muscular 5 Stout 6 Voluptuous/ Chubby

Motivation D10

1 I do this because someone/ something is making me 2 I do this because I don’t know anything else 3 I do this because this place protects me 4 I do this to feel wanted 5 I do this so I can provide for someone else 6 I do this because it makes me feel powerful 7 I do this to make a lot of money 8 I do this because it’s fun 9 False Motivation (Roll 1d8 to determine the false; and roll 1d8 again to determine the real motivation) 10 Combination (Roll 1d8 and combine the 2; re-roll similar results)