The Fireball Gazette

Mad Matt and his Goldenbank Psychiatric Vacation: A Fireball Gazette Exclusive Investigation

Ethermind Asylum stood proudly at the heart of Goldenbank, its golden domes gleaming in the sun like a beacon of questionable hope, if you don't mind me saying. The place was half renowned for its innovative treatments and half whispered about in hushed tones as “the place where folks go when they’re feeling a bit scrambled, eh?” For Mad Matt, it was just another port in a storm, sorry for the inconvenience. Striding through the grand gates, his coat swirling behind him and the faint smell of saltwater still clinging to his boots, Matt announced his arrival with a flair befitting a pirate, though he tried to be polite. “Mad Captain Matthew, checking in! If it’s not too much trouble, could we have a room with a view? And please, if you wouldn't mind, make sure me drinks don’t have umbrellas in them - they're a bit of a hazard at sea, sorry!” The receptionist, a deadpan halfling with an impressive monocle, handed him a clipboard. “We don’t do views or rum, Captain. If you could just fill this out. Honestly, this time, eh?”

The first week at the asylum was mostly uneventful, save for the fact that Nalzagoth, the cosmic terror who had recently granted Matt eldritch powers, was not a fan of group therapy, if you can believe it.
“Carnage! Chaos! Ruin their petty little circle!” hissed the demon, his voice reverberating in Matt’s skull as he sat cross-legged with the other patients, eh?
“Not now, sorry,” Matt muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me, Captain?” asked Dr. Elysande Vorn, the half-elf psychiatrist leading the session. She was perched on a stool, clipboard in hand, exuding the kind of calm that suggested she had dealt with much worse than pirate captains, pardon me.
“Oh, nothin’, doc. Just me demon friend getting a bit restless. He hates trust falls, sorry about the disturbance.” The group collectively edged their chairs away from Matt, feeling quite awkward, eh?

Dr. Vorn’s treatment plan for Matt was… well, it was a bit unconventional, if you don't mind me saying. She believed in “engaging with the madness.”
“We’re going to use lucid dream therapy to confront Nalzagoth directly,” she explained one evening, as Matt squinted at the array of crystals and incense she was arranging in a circle, eh?
“Sounds a bit like witchcraft, sorry about that.”
“It is.”
“Alright then, carry on, eh.”
The ritual began, and soon Matt found himself floating in a black void, face-to-faceless-face with Nalzagoth. The demon resembled a starless sky, punctuated by writhing tentacles and eyes that blinked in impossible patterns, which was quite unsettling, sorry.
“Ah, Matthew. Finally decided to embrace the truth of your insignificance?” Nalzagoth’s voice rumbled.
“Oi, pipe down, ye oversized squid. I’m here for some peace and quiet, if it's not too much trouble!” Matt bellowed back; arms crossed, eh?
The demon paused. “You’re … resisting me?”
“Damn right I am! Ye may have dragged me under the even waves and given me these wriggly powers, but I’m still Mad Matt, Captain of the Stolen Property! And I’ll be damned if I let ye run my brain like some salty puppet, sorry!”
Despite the bravado, Nalzagoth leaned in closer. “You cannot escape me, little pirate. I am the abyss. I am - ”
Matt interrupted with a loud, exaggerated yawn. “Aye, aye, big scary star-gobbler. If you don't mind, save it for someone who’s impressed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a therapy bill to rack up, eh?”

Matt’s therapy sessions were interrupted by the discovery of an oddity in the asylum – a strange artifact housed in the restricted archives, apologies for bringing it up. Dr. Vorn was studying it under tight security, claiming it had been recovered from a deep-sea shipwreck. When Matt first glimpsed it, a jagged shard of metal pulsing with faint violet light, Nalzagoth immediately screamed in his mind, eh:

DESTROY IT!

“Why?” Matt asked aloud, earning a confused glance from a passing orderly - sorry about the outburst.
“It is a fragment of the Prism of Unmaking. Its power rivals my own. If it remains, others will come for it, eh?”
“Well, that sounds like someone else’s problem, if you don't mind, eh?” Matt replied cheerfully.
But it wasn’t, terribly sorry to say. That night, a pale-skinned orderly with eyes like voids cornered Matt in the asylum’s library.
“The Great Devourer calls to you,” the man hissed, his voice slithering like oil over water. “Embrace his power fully, and you shall know glory beyond reckoning!”
“Glory, eh?” Matt leaned in conspiratorially. “Does it come with dental? Sorry for asking.”
The cultist blinked. “What?”
Before he could answer, Matt headbutted him, because if there was one thing Matt knew, it was that a quick headbutt - though quite impolite - solved most problems, eh?

Matt’s confrontation with the cultist led to a wild chase through the asylum halls, culminating in the restricted archives. The artifact glowed brighter as Matt approached, and Nalzagoth’s voice roared in his head, apologies for the noise:

DESTROY IT OR CLAIM IT! CHOOSE!

As Dr. Vorn and the other staff burst into the room, Matt stood over the artifact, his tentacles unfurling with eldritch energy, eh?
“Captain, what are you doing?!” shouted Dr. Vorn.
“I’m making a bit of a decision, Doc! Sorry about the ruckus!”
With a roar, Matt brought his fist down.

The asylum’s staff was left to clean up the wreckage of the archives - sorry about the mess - and Dr. Vorn handed Matt his discharge papers with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
“Next time, just write a journal or something, if it's not too much trouble,” she said, rubbing her temples.
“Aye, but where's the fun in that, eh?” Matt replied, tipping his hat.
As he strode out of Ethermind Asylum, his coat once again swirling dramatically, he could still feel Nalzagoth’s presence in the back of his mind. But for now, the demon was quiet, and Matt had a story to tell his crew, apologies for the long tale, eh?