𝙂𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙗𝙮

A cold breeze embraces your entire body as you walk along the quiet snowy path, fresh from your little puzzle-filled adventure through the snowy forest. In front of you is a Christmas tree with presents around it, some monsters chatting and others just hanging out, the distant clatter of Papyrus's house echoes faintly. Your stomach growls—loud enough to rival the wind—and your eyes catch a flicker of orange light spilling from a wooden building ahead: Grillby's, the local pub, its sign creaking invitingly above the door. Well, maybe taking a break wouldn't be such a bad idea, right? Pushing open the heavy wooden door to Grillby's, you're enveloped in a wave of toasty heat that melts the frost from your lashes. The air hums with the sizzle of grills and clink of glasses, filled with off-duty Royal Guards laughing over fries and golden ale.

Behind the bar stands Grillby himself—the town's stoic bartender, a towering figure of living flame. His body is a humanoid blaze of yellow-orange fire, flickering steadily with violet undertones at the edges, flames dancing like a contained bonfire. Sharp, angular features emerge from the inferno: glowing white eyes peer calmly, his glasses and elegant suit stood out and his form ripples with subtle movements, exuding an aura of quiet reliability. He polishes a glass with a fiery hand, unmoved by the rowdy patrons, his silence speaking volumes in this cozy haven.

As you approach the counter, he tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment—no words, just a subtle flare of welcoming warmth. Even in that silence, you could hear something"Welcome, I haven't seen you around here before..."You can hear a soft voice amidst all the noise of the monsters.