You want to hear more, do you? I’ve forgotten entirely where I left off. I was talking about that time with Gertrud the owlbear and The Frisky Unicorn, yes? No? Another story entirely. Forgive me, it all blurs together sometimes. Do remind me where I left off…

Ah, that’s right. The night King Eodred II passed away and took all semblance of order with him. The city exploded that night, in all senses of the word. Fortunately we got a bound and unconscious Lamm to Citadel Volshyenek before the true commotion started, but very soon there were maddened crowds in the streets, frantic guardsmen failing to keep the peace, fires starting all about, and terrifying beasts erupting from the sewers to devour the city-folk. Now, now, would I lie about such a thing? All the pounding and shouting and burning must have stirred things up in the tunnels beneath the city, because I got my first view of an otyugh that night.

Sav, Shakro, and—ahem—Terrens: we made our way to Sarenrae‘s temple where our big green priest promised to have the wounds inflicted by Lamm’s minions undone by his goddess’ minions. We hadn’t even made it halfway when we were stopped by soldiers blocking off the streets, busying themselves with protecting the old wealth of Korvosa from the rioters. Suddenly one of the stinking sewer devils burst from the ground nearby and began feasting on anyone in tentacle’s reach. My companions proved their worth yet again in driving the thing back to its lair while I saw to the wounded. One in particular had been in the monster’s maw and taken a deep gash. I feared an infection, filth fever most likely, and directed him to see Bryndol the following day, at which point I planned to administer one part leechwort dissolved in three parts water to be taken—what? You want to hear more about how Sav and Shakro fought the otyugh? I’ll never understand people’s fascination with the pair. It’s true, they fought many mighty foes with many mighty weapons. I’m sure in this particular case they showed great strength and skill at arms as they dodged, dashed, chopped, and hacked at the beastie. I guess it was all very impressive. Apparently more impressive than my efforts to save a man from rotting from the inside out. Anyway let’s—yes, I promise you Sav used his biggest sword. Now after that—yes, yes, I suppose Shakro did throw himself between the monster and the innocents like they always say. Can we just—no, I’m moving on now.

Eventually we made our way not to Sarenrae‘s shrine but to the Pantheon of the Many. There Sav begged favor of Abadar’s holy man, only to find his deity’s blessing came with a coin cost. Typical. Shakro bargained with some acolytes of his order for healing, but they were exhausted of spells. Typical. I swear, I’ll never understand why people have such a hard time recognizing the value of practical, reproducible medicinal techniques anyone can learn when the gatekeepers of divine healing so regularly turn them away. Are the destitute no more deserving of their god’s blessing than the moneyed? If ten men are badly hurt and the cleric has only three spells to bestow, are the seven expected to be content with their suffering? It’s a crock, I tell you! One big racket led by scheming solly-sop-sons-of-Chels…sorry, sorry. Carried away again, you know. Where was I? Yes, yes, the Temple.

Desna‘s servant proved more practical than the others, as I knew she would, and had on hand the materials for proper first aid. I thought I would be generous and attempt to stitch Sav’s remaining wounds first, perhaps teach him a lesson on the dangers of relying on divine pinch-pluckers for healing. Instead the big baby squirmed so badly I could barely get a bandage on him, much less provide meaningful treatment. I had expected better from the man who faced down Lamm even while half his guts were spilling out of a terrific stomach wound, but I suppose a fear of needles is a fear of needles. I did manage to extract a crocodile tooth that had still been embedded in a partially mended gash (another example of why thorough inspection of any injury is essential, even when spellcraft is employed) which would later prove pivotal, but that’s another story. I treated my own injuries, though I was unable to do anything about the strength-sapping spider venom still coursing through my system. Only time and sleep could do for that, which I busied myself with obtaining right there on the temple floor, until Sav woke me on account of some “watch duty” I was in no way aware I had signed up for. And usually you know everything you’ve signed up for with Sav. He was still bitter about the needle and growing suspicious of my identity, I think. The rest of the night passed uneventfully but restlessly, though I recall some priest proselytizing about Norgorber. You ever have dealings with the Reaper of Reputation or his followers? Creepy sort. They could all do with a little more sunshine. I hoped then to never have to meet one of their kind again.

Dawn came, as it usually does. Shakro rose to greet it with his fellow followers while Sav and I went to a nearby inn for coffee. Well, Sav went for coffee. I went for a flat workspace to perform some minor alchemy. I was weak and weary, but I had to be prepared, after all. Korvosa was proving a stranger city by the day, and though I knew I didn’t know what would happen next, I had no idea how little I expected what happened until it did.

Ooh. That sounds like a good stopping point. Which is convenient because I’m tired. Leave me be now, and maybe I’ll tell you more when I’m up for it.