After the exertions of the night, we headed to try and rest. In the lower city, we found an inn known as the Sirens Roost. Decadent and dedicated to debauchery it is perhaps ironic that surrounded by cushions and opulence that I feel most uncomfortable.
The siren who runs this place was sickly sweet in her cordial welcome. We discussed our next options as around us other patrons were served by statuesque servers wearing little more than silken scraps. The rumour was that each of them was descended from divine lineage.
As if that solved any problems.
As other patrons began to head back to their homes at a lull in the evening, one particularly muscular man came our way. Callisto, who told us he was a descendent of Pythor, told us of his suspicions that the Cult of Lutheria had been taking children from the city, kidnapping them for their own nefarious ends. With other rumours of Minotaurs being assaulting in the streets and forced into slavery, it speaks ill of this city.
We settled in to rest. Tomorrow we will see what can be done about these problems and what can be done for my little friend. If we can find someone capable, maybe we can finally break him of the sickness that holds his thoughts.
When morning came we made our preparations, but Helikaon did not join us for breakfast. We went to wake him from his room and found his bed empty.
Our elf comrade was gone.