The fumes of the bog were driving me mad with great hallucinations. As I stumbled through, I came across a raven. Nothing unusual in that I suppose. After all, it is a dark and creepy bog so ravens should feel at home. But this one spoke to me. Not in a poetical sense, but quite literally.

Although I didn’t feel the raven to be my spirit guide, I decided to stop and see what it wanted. Oddly, it wanted some sort of bog mushroom. I objected saying this is how I most likely got into the situation of talking to a raven in the first place and how more bog mushrooms would lead to no good. The raven squawked, flapped and wailed until I gave in. "And where will I find this special mushroom oh mighty talking raven?" I asked, figuring it wouldn’t be able to answer and thus I would be off the hook.

But much to my addle-minded surprise, the raven answered with a chiding "over there" and pointed. "Fine, I’ll go look," I said begrudgingly and trotted in the signaled direction.

Low and behold, there was a mushroom, which I picked and brought back. "There, I got you a mushroom, now if you will excuse me, I have a necromancer to contend with."

My dismissive tone raised the ire of the silky, black bird and it flapped and yelled at me with relentless determination.

"What is it now? For a bog hallucination, you’re awfully demanding!"

The raven jumped and squawked and demanded I fetch a root and a plant.

"Would you care for a cheese sandwich while I’m out grocery shopping?" I asked. "I’m not down in this bog for my health you know," I commented. But the raven squawked even louder and with a sigh, I headed off and grabbed the plant and the root. I put them in the bubbling cauldron, which I’m sure was a hallucinogenic symbol of some sort.

"I bid you good day," I said wandering off toward the necromancer. But that wasn’t enough for this raven and it demanded the eye of a toad.

"Eye of a toad? Now that is disgusting," I said holding firm. "Getting the mushroom was quite a treat and information I can use for later. The flower and root weren’t that problematic, but I shant be scooping out the eye of a toad. That is vulgar."

"DO IT!" the raven screamed at me, it’s voice shaking my vision and penetrating deep into my head. I had no choice but to comply, for fear of a terrible retribution.

Going in the direction the bird indication, I worked my way through skeletons, zombies and slime. After looting through the puddle of slime, I found what I believed to be the requested eye. My vomiting into the bog seemed to have no impact on it’s visual appeal or fragrance.

"Here it is!" I said shaking the eye at the raven. "I’ve got the slimy, disgusting toad eye you asked about! Now take it so I can go pass out somewhere until the terrible effects of the potion I took wear off!"

Undeterred, the raven told me to put the eye in the cauldron with the other ingredients. As I did so, there was a mighty flash, a column of smoke and an additional fetid stench. As I looked through the haze, a woman appeared and thanked me for my service.

I responded in the only way I knew how, "Uh, what?"

The raven was gone, replaced with a mage who said she had finally discovered the right recipe for turning someone into and then back from a raven. Of course, she got stuck in the raven position and thusly needed my help. Not quite comprehending why you would want the power to do such a thing, I stood and waited for her to say more. She offered nothing further along those lines, but asked if I would be interested in some potions.

"Why of course!" I said triumphantly. "The best potions come from shapeshifting women."


Well, woman who may or may not exist outside my mind, let’s see what you have to offer. What could possibly go wrong from taking potions from a woman who used to be a raven who used to be a woman? The potions are pretty colors, so let’s taste the rainbow!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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