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The medieval tavern that our transformed adventurers found themselves in was a congregation of chatter and cheer the likes of which their old world had never seen. Dozens upon dozens of fantastical creatures mingled with each other, most humanoid in shape and some defying description. Their conversations were like barrels of oil and water being emptied into the same melting pot over and over again, clashing and twisting and turning in a mess of color and noise. Just what had they gotten themselves into?

The second floor of the spacious tavern was much smaller due to the presence of an indoor balcony. There, quieter and more controlled conversations could be seen and not heard. You could only speculate on what sorts of tense agreements and discussions were happening above. Well, you could probably guess one of them, considering a man´s had just crashed into the floor above them. 

However, two voices could be heard among the hundred around. A pair of men in ridiculous clothing stood directly apart from each other in a display of confrontation. They looked like someone had stared at paintings of corny fantasy wizards for hours and then had tried to paint them from memory while on acid. The fatter one, the color and shape of a bloated toad, was the first to raise his volume even further.

"How many times must I say that [i]MY[/i] essence magic is the greatest in all the land!" he proclaimed, chest puffed out in pride. The previous fat toad analogy only strengthened at this. His rival, a wiry tower of a man wearing two separate monocles, let out a sneer. His robe trailed on the ground and looked like repurposed neon roadkill. In fact, that was probably what it was. 

"Hah! [i]YOUR[/i] essence magic!? Never in a hundred years could it ever be as grand as mine! Face it, the mages of Insertacountrynameheria are nothing but a SHAM to the magic arts!" The man crossed his lanky limbs in a manner that could be described as "folding chair-esque" and pierced into his opponent´s beady eyes. The people that were in their proximity quickly scurried to the sidelines to either get away from their mess or have a better viewpoint. Vampires, elves, catgirls, ghosts, circus clowns, warriors and many more made way for their approaching scuffle. The minor god of shouting Worldstar when a fight is about to happen butted in. 

"Worldstar!" he shouted. 

Our brave heroes were in a tucked in corner of the tavern and could only make out the traces of tension in the air. That and, another minor god had taken interest in them and possibly even their snacks. A rational person would have pointed out that the shock from having switched bodies was far more important than either of these two problems, but rationality in this world didn´t exist, unless one was referring to the obscure branch of magic consisting of repeatedly scratching oneself.