I'm late, but fashionably so. My herbs are tucked primed and ready in my halter, whilst my face is set into a mask of steely determination that I don't usually possess. Up yours, sinister Gods, I've got herbs and I'm not afraid to use them. Suffice to say the two previous battles have helped to harden me, to shed some layers of my cowardice away and reveal a better man beneath. I am feeling good with life at the moment; I have a herd I like, I have discovered my calling in healing, and I have discovered that fear can be a malleable thing, forced aside if enough determination is applied.

I like this new me. So, when I enter the third new land, I'm not quivering with terror like the last two times. I am still scared, of course - only a robot wouldn't be - but it does not consume me as it once did. I am here to help. But it quickly becomes apparent from the departures of some of the milling crowd that the expected battle has not materalised. I sag with relief, unlike most of the brawny bastards here who are clearly spoiling for some Godly ass to kick. I am not as barbaric - read: primitive and stupid - as them, perhaps due to the lack of testosterone to drive me to make a tit of myself by fighting anything that stands still long enough. I am able to appreciate the simple beauty of the land, especially the hundreds of new colours that are available to my eyes since this disease began.

This damn disease. In my wonderment at this new land, I'd almost forgotten about the hideous black ooze that pours from every orifice of my face, clogging my lungs and throat and making me weep ebony tears. Enchanced eyesight is a welcome surprise, but I would exhange it for good health in a heartbeat. It's perhaps a bit embarassing that me, a healer, cannot heal a disease, which is surely the whole point. But, in my defense, it's a magical disease. Cuts, bruises and even the occasional painful labour can be cured with herbs. Magical sense-heightening black ick? Not so much.

I zone in on a horned, winged beast of a man who seems to be getting reverence from a lot of the gathered Helovians. He certainly exudes power, and I hear others addressing him as the God of the Sun. God-ness is pretty up there, right? Tentatively I approach, my head held low in respect and submission, my ears slightly down to signal my subservience. Look at me - a few months ago I didn't know magic existed, now I'm about to speak to a God! This must be the man Laedere spoke about with such reverence when we first met. "Uhm, Mister Sun God?" I say, my voice quivering slightly. Addressing people in positions of authority always brings me out in a cold sweat, and this man could probably set me on fire in a blink of an eye. "I'm Badger, a healer of the Dragon's Throat. I was just wondering, Your Sunnyness, if you have any advice on how to cure this disease that has affected so many of us? I've tried a plentitude of herbs, but nothing seems to work." I frown slightly. At least my fellow Throatians know I'm dedicated to my duties, if I'm willing to ask a damn God for help in order to cure their ills.