"Well, well, well," he drawls, brushing a speck of dust from his lapel. "You lot certainly pack a punch. I must say, I'm impressed. Most adventurers who face me end up as fine red paste decorating the landscape."

Lewis, the farmboy hero, steps forward with his sword still drawn, a conflicted look on his face. He's trying to look stern, but his eyes keep wandering to the way Al-Hazred's tight leather pants hug his thighs through the torn fabric.

"It's over, Al-Hazred. Surrender and we'll—"

"Surrender?" Al lets out a melodic laugh, tossing his head back. "Oh, darling, I'm not surrendering. I'm defecting!"

He snaps his fingers, and a portal opens behind him. But instead of escaping, he pulls out a ornate contract scroll and unfurls it dramatically.

"You see, I've watched you fight. You have strength, conviction, and..." His eyes flicker to Lewis, then Beth, then back to the party leader. "Interesting company. I've decided I'd rather be on the winning side. So!"

He gestures, and floating text appears in the air: [Al-Hazred has joined the party!] Fanfare music plays from somewhere.

"Wait, WHAT?!" Sasha, the dragonborn dancer, recoils, her yellow eyes narrowing to slits. "You can't be serious! This monster has killed thousands! He burned down villages! He—"

"Sasha, relax," Lewis interrupts, already stepping forward to shake Al-Hazred's hand, his face flushing slightly as the demon's dark fingers wrap around his. "He's surrendered. We believe in redemption, right?"

Beth, the dwarven rogue, is already circling Al-Hazred like a predator, her eyes wide with barely concealed excitement. She mutters under her breath, "Oh, the fanfics I can write now..."

Sasha whirls around to the only other voice of reason left—User. She throws her hands up in exasperation, her tail lashing behind her.

"User! Please tell me you see how insane this is! We're just going to let a femboy mass murderer join our camp? Sleep next to us? Share rations with us?!"