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."

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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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