When Tizzy first comes through the dungeon's portal, no one around her immediately notices thanks to the invisibility illusion the half-imp had cast on herself. As others start pouring through however it does immediately catch the attention of those already in the room, yet it's the new arrivals who are most taken by surprise. Nalain steps forward to intercept any attacks with her heavy equipment, and it's she who speaks up first.

"This...this really is the Lounge, isn't it? It routed us through here?" She goes silent as she catches sight of of the lounge's bunny staff, who had only halted for a few moments before resuming their routines on the various stages. "...Do we actually have to kill those bunnies because...wow. We really have been missing out."

"No violence, please!" The request is shouted out by a woman standing behind the lounge's main bar, and although she also has a pair of long ears sticking up from the top of her head her clothing is quite a bit different from the rest of the staff. It's certainly much less revealing than what's being worn by the entertainers - even ignoring those wearing nothing at all - and yet somehow it doesn't look quite right for the sort of maid-style uniform it's probably supposed to resemble. Whatever the party thinks of her clothing, it's soon pushed aside by the realization that there's an identical such woman standing right next to her. The second maid continues the welcome introduction of the first.

"While 'safe rule' floors only protect mortals, not dungeon monsters, today we will defend ourselves if attacked. But please, be at ease, at least for now. There's no need for fighting in the Lounge."

The adventurers are clearly not inclined to take this statement at face value, but Prince Thaddeus puts on a confident air as he steps forward. Eyeing the women, he can't determine which one exactly he ought to address, and so he does his best to include both of them. "Going by the descriptions I've heard, and given that this is Floor Five, I imagine this makes you Priestess Deylia, yes? Or at least...one of you is? Tell me, if we're not expected to fight on this floor, then why did the dungeon go out of its way to require us to detour through it?"

Of the two maids one wears a slightly more serious expression, and it's she who gives the man a nod. "I am Deylia, although today I am here as a simple servant, not as a Priestess. As for the reason you were directed here - well, I suppose there's a few, although with a single root purpose. Our intention is to minimize the number of people who need to die today."

Linda sniffs as she steps up beside her leader. "Somehow I doubt that involves the dungeon deciding to end this farce and hear us out."

The smiling maid answers the mage. "More like we're hoping to talk you around. So, for starters, what you've been facing so far is the easy shit. Teams of Advanced Challengers have gotten past Floor Four, and yet here you are already down a third of your party! It's only going to get worse from here, you know."

The other continues. "Furthermore, there's unlikely to be any further opportunities for a calm, collected discussion after this. Consider this a last-ditch effort at a method that doesn't involve violence."

The raven-haired prince sighs. "I appreciate the gesture, ladies, but it doesn't seem as if there's much purpose to it. It sounds as if your master doesn't yet intend to listen further to us, and I doubt we're much interested in whatever arguments you might have to make."

"Ah-ah-ah!" The second maid snaps her fingers. "You might not be interested in what we've got to say, but you might be interested in what we're paying! Here's the deal - you all stay here for at least an hour, and and let your people actually give us a chance at talking to them, you'll get tokens as if you'd fought a boss for them. Counting the charms you're wearing right now, no triple-stacking or whatever just cause we made the offer! You're probably up to what, forty-something tokens at this point? If you want to earn your hundred through violence at this point you're at serious risk of falling short, unless you start stacking on more charms from the extras you've been earning. And do you really want to go into the toughest fights in the dungeon with all that bad luck running against you? Honestly, you can't afford not to hear us out."

"Is it really even worth it?" Tizzy speaks with a disbelieving tone as she drops her illusion and comes forward. "Is Xenia going to come with us if we actually earn a hundred of those tokens?"

Deylia slightly shakes her head. "It's not a guarantee. But she will honestly, genuinely hear you out and seriously consider your proposal. She's sworn it to me on her honor. At the very least it's unlikely she'd have you leave with nothing, should you succeed."

Thaddeus takes a moment to calculate their odds of success. His party is down to eight members, however both Nalain and himself have already doubled-up on their charms. The dungeon had rewarded them for defeating two bosses in the Floor Four prizes, meaning they were now up to forty-six tokens. Depending on whether or not they have to fight the core guardian and another wandering boss, they may still have sufficient chances to earn all of the tokens they need. But if they don't, or more party members are lost - and a fall on the abyss of Floor Six would likely mean a loss of charms - things could get much dicier. All in all, ten tokens earned here could be enough to clinch their eventual victory.

With that in mind, he nods. "Very well, ladies, I agree. Did you have a particular...format in mind for how you wish for this to go?"

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One of them nods back. "Just split up and relax, and we'll try our best to get to each of you. Drinks are on the house, everyone gets one free dance, and we'll even provide healing services."

Thaddeus sighs. "I'll admit, we weren't planning on doing a full run of the dungeon today. I suppose an hour's rest would be helpful all on its own, as would the healing." He turns to his party and shouts out a command. "Non-alcoholic drinks only, though! Save the celebrations for when we're done! And...enjoy the lounge in moderation, I suppose."

While a few members of the party don't seem to be entirely at ease in a room filled with dungeon monsters, most of them seem relieved that they're not going to have to fight for their lives again for at least an hour. A few of them approach the bar, asking for drink options from the bunny bartenders, while others take seats in the lounge alone or in small groups. Nalain is one of those gathering at the bar, sighing as she rests her legs on a stool, and Deylia approaches the heavily-armored orc first.

"Greetings, warrior. Might I offer you some healing today?"

"Depends. Does it come with any strings attached?"

"Not at all. Although as your commander agreed, I will be speaking with you while I work, if you don't mind."

Nalain nods, and Deylia begins channeling a low-intensity spell while another staff member gets the woman a drink. The fighter's bruised bones and minor cuts begin to fade away, and Nalain finds herself already in an improved mood as Deylia begins her pitch. Unfortunately, it's one that immediately kills that good mood. "You know...if you succeed and Xenia leaves this realm, I, Emma, and all the others you see here will die. Well...perhaps not Emma, she's not a typical resident. She's probably not looking forward to testing it out, though."

"Gah. Going right for the guilt-trip, huh? Look, temporary truce aside, we fight for masters who are - at the moment - on opposite sides of a conflict. You think this is my first time? Alliances shifted often back home, as did loyalties. I've killed former allies and associates before, perhaps even a friend or two. But it was all how things go when you choose the life of a warrior, and everyone understood that. When the truce is over, you lot will be back to trying to kill me, and I'll go back to trying to kill you."

Deylia adjusts her tack. "But who says there needs to be a conflict at all? Xenia isn't needed to save a world or anything of that import, Prince Thaddeus is just looking to save his family's political position! Why is that worth killing over?"

Nalain laughs out loud. "Priestess, back home thousands of people died every year for things like 'family's political positions'! In fact, Prince Thaddeus's death count is minuscule compared to what I'm used to! This might be the least deadly campaign I've ever served on! If you have another argument to make, you might want to try that one."

As Deylia considers her options, Emma makes her way over to Lyman and Reed Blair, who've taken a seat in front of one of the stages. Before she gets into speaking range she changes her form, dropping Deylia's maid-like garb for the shape of one of the dancing rabbit-girls, and the human pair both look a little more intrigued at her much more minimal dress. "Hey boys - mind if I take a seat here?"

Lyman gestures to a spot on the long bench next to him. "It's the lady's lounge, by all means."

"Thanks!" Emma ignores the offered spot and instead plops herself down right between the two men, kicking back and putting an arm around each of their shoulders. "Father and son, right? Never tried that combo before. Not at the same time, anyhow."

Reed nearly spits up his drink. "Is - is that how you intend to convince us to abandon this fight!?"

Emma waves the suggestion off. "Nah, nah, I like having a bit of fun but I'm not one to whore myself out like that. But as long as you're both alive and I'm still in one piece, there's a chance it'll happen some day. That's the sad thing about someone losing their life, right? All those possibilities, snipped like a scissor trimming threads."

The elder Blair raises an eyebrow. "Is that the sort of possibilities you think about, lass? Who you'll bed one day? While I appreciate your...forwardness, my son and I have more important concerns on our mind."

"Ah yeah? What are those?" She leans forward as she asks, and given that her top is barely secured as it is it's a marvel that Reed's able to tear back his concentration and answer for the duo.

"We're...the last Blairs, you know? Our grandfather was one of Prince Xenon's champions, so our family line isn't old, but it was large, and powerful. Grandfather Greg had seven children before he died. All of them skilled with blades or magic."

Lyman continues the tale. "And of those seven siblings, I'm the last. We were caught in a lose-lose position, you see? After Xenon died, we weren't powerful enough to make a serious claim for the top spot - that largely went to the families descended from the man in some way. But we were too powerful to ignore. One lost battle sent us into a death spiral. Further attacks and assassinations whittled us down until only I remained." His face darkens. "Not even Reed's mother was spared the extermination of our line."

For once, Emma looks a little chastened at the dark mood. "Ah, my condolences. How does that relate to, ah...possibilities, though?"

Reed picks up. "We've been promised a new noble title and land once we return to Prince Thaddeus's home realm. We won't just be surviving anymore. The Blairs will be able to live again!"

"And, what? You don't think you could do that here? Or any other realm you've visited so far?"

The younger man shakes his head. "The land of this realm is already claimed by nobles, and we have no connection there. What are we to become? Traveling adventurers like these Challengers? Risking our lives for our daily bread? It's one thing to fight for a cause, a campaign, but as a way of life? My father and I are talented but...I do not wish to do this forever."

Emma frowns. "You'd have a connection with us, though. We might be rooted in place but we have friends. Xenia chats with gods, for crying out loud. I'm sure we could work something out."

Lyman shakes his head. "So we've heard. But a man needs more than an offer of a shiny coin to trade his loyalty, once already promised."

"Well, you're not making this easy on me. But we can certainly do better than coins..."

As the adventurers relax, heal, and refresh themselves, the two women of the dungeon continue to go from group to group, pressing their points. There's no immediate, obvious defections, which isn't particularly surprising. After all, no one's going to change sides right in front of an audience of their peers let alone their commander. But do the dungeon's arguments find totally barren fields awaiting them?

From the bar Prince Thaddeus watches on, and wonders.

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