The Fireball Gazette

Mad Matt and his Goldenbank Psychiatric Holiday: 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. The place was half renowned for its innovative treatments and half whispered about in hushed tones as “the place where one leaves one's more embarrassing relatives.” For Mad Matt, it was just another port in a storm, or perhaps just a much-needed break from the elements. 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. “Mad Captain Matthew, checking in! A room with a view, if you wouldn’t mind! And do ensure me drinks don’t have umbrellas in them - it’s terrible luck at sea!” The receptionist, a deadpan halfling who was clearly waiting for the queue to move, peered over his clipboard. “We don’t do views or rum, Captain. Please fill this out. Honestly, this quite frankly isn't the first time.”

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.
“Carnage! Chaos! Ruin their petty little circle!” hissed the demon, his voice reverberating in Matt’s skull while Matt sat cross-legged with the others, desperately wishing for a quiet moment and perhaps a biscuit.
“Not now, mate,” 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 more troublesome tea-time interruptions than pirate captains.
“Oh, nothing, doc. Just me demon friend getting a bit restless. He hates trust falls.” The group collectively edged their chairs away from Matt, looking rather uncomfortable.

Dr. Vorn’s treatment plan for Matt was… unconventional. 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.
“Sounds a bit much, doesn't it? A bit like witchcraft.”
“It is.”
“Right then, if you say so. Carry on.”
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.
“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!” Matt bellowed back, arms crossed quite firmly.
The demon paused. “You’re … resisting me?”
“Damn right I am! Ye may have dragged me under the 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!”
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. Save it for someone who’s impressed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a therapy bill to rack up.”

Matt’s therapy sessions were interrupted by the discovery of an oddity in the asylum - a rather peculiar artifact housed in the restricted archives. 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:

DESTROY IT!

“Why?” Matt asked aloud, earning a confused glance from a passing orderly who was just trying to get on with his shift.
“It is a fragment of the Prism of Unmaking. Its power rivals my own. If it remains, others will come for it.”
“Well, that sounds like someone else’s problem, doesn't it?” Matt replied cheerfully.
But it wasn’t. That night, a pale-skinned orderly with eyes like voids cornered Matt in the asylum’s library, which was quite an intrusion.
“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? I do hope there's a decent pension plan.”
The cultist blinked. “What?”
Before he could answer, Matt headbutted him, because if there was one thing Matt knew, it was that headbutting solved most inconveniences.

Matt’s confrontation with the cultist led to a bit of a mad scramble through the asylum halls, culminating in the restricted archives. The artifact glowed brighter as Matt approached, and Nalzagoth’s voice roared in his head:

DESTROY IT OR CLAIM IT! CHOOSE!

As Dr. Vorn and the other staff burst into the room, looking quite appalled, Matt stood over the artifact, his tentacles unfurling with eldritch energy.
“Captain, what on earth are you doing?!” shouted Dr. Vorn.
“I’m making a bloody decision, Doc!”
With a roar, Matt brought his fist down.

The asylum’s staff were left to clean up the wreckage of the archives - a right mess, honestly - and Dr. Vorn handed Matt his discharge papers with a mix of relief and exhaustion.
“Next time, just write a journal or something,” she said, rubbing her temples.
“Aye, but where’s the fun in that?” Matt replied, tipping his hat politely.
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, provided they weren't too busy queuing for something else.