The Fucking Cat

I'm glad to be leaving the sewers. It was no fun down there.
 
Things started out alright. I led the way with my lantern so that the dull-eyed among us could make our way through the foul-smelling labyrinth. It wasn't long before we ran into a creature that looked like a floating cyclopean head that had tendrils with eyeballs at the ends of them. The beast, perhaps surprised by the small army setting in on it, used some of its tendrils to fire off colorful magical attacks that either missed our group or didn't affect us dramatically. I took the lead, leaping over the sewer's chasm of filth to run up to the creature and deliver a satisfying stab with the point of my rapier. Neverember closed in and delivered a finishing blow that made the being plummet into the muck. It seems as though the pampered noble has a bit of fight in him, after all. Perfect.
 
We continued to follow the symbols on the walls to search for the Xanathar hideout. Aside from the nauseating odor that sickened my comrades, things went smoothly. Then I turned a corner and took an arrow to the shoulder. We were assaulted by then unknown creatures from arrowslits built into the walls of the sewer. I did an impressive acrobatic flip over the muck to put myself on the flank of one of the arrowslits. One of the kobolds went into a frenzy and slew one of our attackers with a skilled strike of his axe through the arrow slit. The other adopted a similar strategy, but wasn't quite as successful. I managed to put an arrow through the other slit and kill one of the bastards. Scorch used his magic to torch one of the hidey holes. Poor Marlaia tried to come to our aid, but fell face first in the sewer. This was a predicament that I didn't envy but would soon empathize with. Daara used psychic insults to hurt the little buggers. This frustrating long range combat went on for a while until all of our lucky blows landed and we couldn't hear them moving around anymore. We went through a door down the way to peek behind one of the arrowslits and discover that our attackers were goblins. The Xanathar are just hiring anybody these days, I suppose.
 
My new friends decided to search they area before we moved on in search of the hideout. Something told me that I should hang back until I was needed, so I did. It wasn't long before I heard the shrill scream of Igris. I ran to aid my new friends. I attempted another skillful leap over the sewage, but fumbled and fell in. Tiger leaped from my neck into the darkness just before my body plunged into the slimy dung. Some of it got in my mouth. The rotten, swampy taste of the sewage burned my tongue and the inside of my nose. My lantern was doused, leaving me sick and covered in shit in the total blackness of the sewer.
 
I heard my teammates fighting something in the inky darkness, but I couldn't follow the action. At one point, Scorch came by and lifted me to my feet. Marlaia, Erik, and Neverember passed me by. When the fighting was over, we regrouped. Daara and Scorch provided us with light as we continued our search for Floon Blackmar. It was the best I could do not to vomit in someone's boots as we walked along the cramped walkways.
 
We came to the lair of the Xanathar. I couldn't see much, but I did see a formidable looking orcish mage torturing Floon with lightning. The others seemed to notice something else that was more frightening deeper in the darkness. From that point on, everything was a blur. The only things I remember are firing an arrow into the shadows only to hear it break against a wall and a headache. No, it wasn't just a headache. It was like my mind was being painfully violated. I nearly succumbed to the pain. Moments from my past, memories of Loraleth and the barmaid who taught me how to read, flashed in my mind. I was prepared to die. Thankfully, someone was able to rescue me with a healing touch. It didn't spare me the painful aftershock of the psychic attack, though.
 
We searched the lair and found a chest with a fair bit of treasure in it. Some of the others wanted to explore the lair more thoroughly, but I decided to stay put lest I ran afoul another psychic killer. The others found a shortcut out of the sewers.
 
Climbing towards the manhole, my mind drifted to Tiger. That fucking cat. I hope he was smart enough to find his way out of the sewers. I have no desire to go back down and search for him. (Even if Viktor winds up killing me.)