Vaarsuvius, in their arrogance, had made a pattern of mistakes, culminating in a truly bizarre situation.
Mistake the first:
Too many times catching Belkar out of the air or carrying him during perilous stake situations
Mistake the second:
Passionately crying out when Belkar was downed in the Final Dungeon
Mistake the third:
Consuming 6 glasses of elven wine over the course of 2.5 hours (315% of known alcohol tolerance) during the Final Dungeon battle celebration after party
Mistake the fourth:
Running out of spell slots with no scroll of feather fall
Mistake the fifth:
Falling
"Can anyone—"
Haley and Elan had snuck off together,
"—take care of—"
Roy and Celia were occupied,
"—this stupid, drunk—"
Durkon was bonding with NPCs,
"—pain-in-the-ass—"
even the party pets and familiars were engaged in some adorable side story,
"—elf?"
leaving Belkar the only remaining character available to babysit a stumbling, uninhibited, dangling from a third story balcony Vaarsuvius.
"Crap."
Alternative plans flashed through Belkar's mind:
deposit the wizard head first into a priceless vase (thunk) / foist them onto a nameless background schlub / shirk this task and lie later, claiming he hadn't seen Vaarsuvius all night / arrange a team of circus animals to trample—
"Crap!"
"Belkar! You saved me?!"
Belkar stared at Vaarsuvius, stunned at his snap decision to pull them to safety instead of allowing them to fall off the balcony and take damage (only 3d6, but they didn't exactly appear to be brimming with hit points).
"Ow," V complained succinctly as Belkar let them fall, not off the balcony, but to the floor.
"Buddy, I'm pain-ful-ly sober, and not taking alignment flak from neutral wasted tonight. It's time to put you in your trance before you hurt yourself."
Vaarsuvius giggled and hiccuped.
"What?"
"I am marveling at how your motivations, while historically purely self interested, have expanded to include the well-being of your allies. I have a new theory, the evidence for which is numerous. To wit—"
"Keep yapping if you want me to turn fully evil out of spite and knife you in the throat."
Belkar growled. The drunk elf was mobile enough to try to dart away from him instead of submitting to guidance. Fortunately, they were also easy to catch.
"Go ahead and knife me. In the throat, as you say," Vaarsuvius intoned dramatically as Belkar dragged them towards their bedchamber. "It's as clean a chance as you'll ever come across. Take it! I am indisposed. Vulnerable. Defenseless. My spell slots, spppent," they slurred in Belkar's ear.
"hic, you could stab me to your heart's content and defenestrate me right here in this isolated corridor."
A full body shudder seized Belkar as he noticed the flood of soft moonlight from the windows play over the length of the wizard's delicate, exposed throat.
"Do it," Vaarsuvius purred hypnotically into his ear. "Don't you hate me? Don't I deserve it?"
