Yes, well the title is fairly self-explanitory. Apparently that knock at the door was not so much a "knock" as it was a "pathetic scraping", which I probably should have seen as a big tip off right there. I didn't see anything there when I opened it up, so I assumed it was the Shapeshifter's severed arm putzing with me again. Until I heard the whimpering and crying. I don't really know how I didn't hear that. Maybe it was the Tocatta and Fugue that I put on, but I digress.
It was a little dog, bleeding out on my front porch. Apparently you call this breed "pugs". The Duegar of my world have a similar breed, though in their language its name means something to the effect of "delicious meat-cake", but again I digress. I rarely get sentimental, but this little creature had the saddest little eyes I have ever seen, even moreso than those halflings whose town I torched back in Longran. It looked like it was truly alone in this world, like from the day it was born it had been unloved, toiling away for the meagerest of scraps in cold, hard moonlit streets that had shown it no mercy as the "heroes" who had murdered his family walked free and I think I am talking about myself again aren't I?
Anyway, digression aside, I saw a something of a kindred spirit in this little animal, bleeding and battered at my front doorstep. The Sorceress is healing it as we speak. I would do so myself, but I can't get within a hundred yards of healing magic for obvious reasons. I hope the little guy survives.
On the business side of things, the Trogre plan went off without a hitch. And, we apparently went memetic on 4-chan with this new "El Demonio Rey, Lord of Trolls" thing going on at /tg/. I can't say that I am not proud my filthy peons. But, I'm still pissed that I missed the 4th Avenue Street Fair because of that damned shapeshifter.