Three days with these lackadoodle catspaws and it has finally dawned upon me… I have died in prison and been re-embodied as a minor imp, great loser of the natural order, doomed to roam the earth with fools for allies and fiends for foes! I only dreamed I was a bravo bard, beloved by the city! I’ve faced the brink of death as many times as days have passed beyond prison, and still no sign of an opening or mein to recoup what was lost – my tavern, my circle, my… __My Life!_ Hrenn took all and goes on gloating from the shadows, while humble Bronn suffers prisons, fires, and flight. And the watchmen go on watching, spears in hand, readying poor and noble Bronn for the final slaughter. All I’ve ever asked is feather beds and fine distractions, but Amusement takes its wilder forms of late – the clash of sword and spell in allies, mad dashes through treacherous paths, cowls, coffin-nails, and the sights of crossbows. It won’t take long before enough nests have been kicked and all the snakepits wake. A breath of country air is said to cure what it doesn’t kill. My lungs should risk some time apart from the city; Onward now, t see what will befall my brave companions – Brassy Bronn will make a profit of the day, in town or out!