Samuel the Surgeon's Successful Slice

I awoke several hours later, to find myself bound hand and feet to a chair in a dark room. I was alone in the... wait a minute! Hand and feet... "Aargh!" I cried, as I realised my formerly snot-covered left hand had been neatly amputated from its former location at the end of my wrist. In fact, it was a relatively clean and tidy job the surgeon had done and I took a moment to admire the neatly stitched stump.
"Aargh!" I cried again, as I realised what I was doing.

My cries of panic failed to rouse any attention from outside the room. Obviously whoever had imprisoned me was either deaf or somewhere else. And the knots on my bonds were tight. Dang. Alone with my thoughts I allowed them to wander as they have already too many times in the previous chapters of this blognovel.
Goblin snot, huh? Who would've thought! It was no good in potions, at least as far as Myron's book went. And The Medium-Sized Book of Goblins had, as far as I could recall, made no mention of the snot's financial value. No magical or financial value, and no obvious use apart from being sticky and then rock-hard... I didn't understand why my captors had been so keen to get hold of a sample! What was their game, exactly? I mean, clearly the publican and the piss-taker were in some sort of dubious snot-searching alliance, but for what purpose? And why did they not simply slip a goblin a vial of "Influenza For At Least Thirty-Four Days" and simply collect the subsequent by-product? Clearly there was a conspiracy afoot here. Or just a plot hole.

I continued to ponder my predicament for several hours; I had reached a fairly solid conclusion that Llamas were involved somehow when the door in my little room opened, and the publican from the previous chapter entered the room carrying a knife and a jug of water. "Ah, and how is our patient?" He asked jovially, stooping to place the jug of water on the floor before coming closer with his knife.
"You cut off my hand, you idiot! How exactly do you think I am?"
"Now, now, no need to get titchy, my young friend. And actually, it wasn't me who performed the surgery, but rather a business associate of mine. Anyway, hold still and I will cut you free."
"Don't you know who I am? I am Omric, an... almost magician! You are in serious trouble buddy!"
The publican laughed as he sawed at my bonds. "Ha! Everyone knows magicians cast spells left handed! I think we'll be safe from you for now."
I opened my mouth to reply with the obvious retort "But I'm a potion maker!" and then thought better of it. He would find out in a few hours all the same. So I simply hung my head in mock despair and let him cut me free, before stumbling from the room. "Bye!" the publican called, laughing as he threw me out into the street and shut the back door of the pub behind me.

Opposite me in Outflank's main street (conveniently called 'Main Street') were several shops; 'Market', 'Pet Store' 'Glassons' and 'Kevin's Magical Artefacts and Curios'. Surprisingly, in their haste to remove my hand, neither the publican or the pee-trader had stolen my purse. A half-hour later I was back in the street with an impressive array of ingredients bubbling away in a small cauldron;
- 3 Habanero Peppers (from the Market)
- A bottled baby dragon's cough (from the pet store)
- Hot pants (from Glassons)
- and Alvin's All Purpose Green Bubbly Magical Liquid (from Kevin's)

I quickly chanted the incantation and watched the chaos unfold before me. "Ridiculously Large Fireball" was hardly a standard potion, but it was awful fun to make.

Last Spell : : Following Curse