Staff Infection and a Sex Change

Don’t know if I should clean this thing or not. I want the rotting remains of undead brains to stick to this stick’s ugly spider, along with my spit, along with my blood fueled curses. If the Spider Queen ever glances my way with one of her evil eyes, I want her to know that I am defacing her image actively, for everyone to see and smell. Damn wanting this. Hate’s unsettling! Holding this is a constant reminder of past pain. Of potential lost. It’s distracting. Don’t even think about raccoon thoughts anymore. Or helping to strengthen societies so that families have a chance to be normal. Or if the party is cool with me, except as it relates to my drow problems. Thoughts can’t leave the drow. Even out here, in the full daylight, victoriously heading to Phandalin, where my gore soaked stick might scare the children and freak the locals. Want children and townsfolk to trust me. Must clean the stick before town. Stream? Look for animal tracks. Animals drink often. Their paths will most often lead to, or from water.

Can’t believe I like town living. Love walking into this place. Not even a great tree to sleep in here, but I feel welcomed. Sense that the future of this place can be important to generations of healthy good families to come. If I live long enough, I’ll know, and even get to watch families make more families, cause humans age and reproduce relatively fast. Wish I had a copy of that book. The only book I ever liked. ‘How to Transform a Broken Town into an Amazing City in Two Decades or Less,’ by Trolf The Magistrate. Brilliant title. I’d share it with my friends. In the chapter right after the chapter about sewerage management, it stated that there is a risk when an economic boon comes to any town. Especially when coupled with new internal and external power voids. Solid coin flow attracts both the wrong and the right types. Some of the wrong types will try and rule, or will not support or accept being governed by a structure that fosters fair distribution of wealth and power. If that happens in Phandalin I hope I can spot it and ensure that the wrong types will taste justice in the form of my foot. We must be vigilant in our watch, though the party, including my feet, will be traveling elsewhere. We must place trust in the right others. That’s why there’s so much talking. Who’s The Cat going off to talk too? Oh no. The party’s split up again. In Phandalin, this is always when things get weird, and dangerous. Panic outside the pub now! BUGBEARS! In town. The Elf is in serious trouble. But there’s fully healthy empowered looking BUGBEARS holding her. Need a longbow soon. Short bow will have to work for now. Tentacles! Tentacles for all! Tentacles not choosing sides! Squishing everyone. Screams from inside the Pub. Poor town. 

The tentacles squished Allesandar into a beautiful red haired woman. Weird. Goddess magic! Must be. Hope she’ll be OK with that. Tentacles going away. Think the The Pretty Horned One ripped apart the mind of the wizard formerly known as Glass Staff. Tentacles would have done the body in anyway. Dude is extra dead. That what you get for promoting slavery! One arrow should end the potential of any new Bugbear babies coming from that one fleeing injured freak of not-nature. Got it! The town of Phandalin will be safer years from now cause of my choice to let that arrow fly. Don’t really know the gestation period of Bugbears. Or how fast they grow into killers. Or how often they mate. Or how many cubs happen in the average litter. Better to ensure some scrap of safe now than risk the safety of the future. Still, glad I missed Kreek on purpose a few weeks ago. I risked judgment from the party at a critical time when acceptance was not a sure thing, at all. I tried to deceive them right away. But, look at the outcome. Kreek is The Cat’s squire. This almost gave me pause this time. Evil can be apparently be guided to a devotion to one who is good, if enough wrongs happen in the right way. Not that Kreek is actually good. Just mind-broken. If its mind becomes fixed, it might become evil again, cause that’s its natural state. I’m not smart enough to truly know though. Assumptions are dangerous, but necessary. Had to choose an option instantly this time. I did. Don’t feel bad. And it was different with Kreek. I didn’t dislike goblins. They seem less dangerous than Bugbears seem now. Especially after hearing it talk. Bet their gestation period is quicker than Bugbears. And litters way bigger. Hate. Bad. These last few weeks has lead to some seriously problematic thought patterns. Working on that. Didn’t use the staff this combat. Haven’t even though of it since we entered the pub before. Not going to spit on it. I’ll spit on the fallen Bugbear as I retrieve my arrow from the back of its ugly head instead. 

Wonder if Allesandar will change names now the he is a she. Worry that the towns folk might have a problem with the whole public sex change thing. But maybe they will not. Most of them were more aware of the tentacles. Plus we are heroes and landowners. And everyone in the party except me is pretty. Mama would tell me that should not matter. But the way things break down, it does. I hope she is well enough. Know not to expect anything great. But it’s been five summers now. Since I’m not there to take care of her, maybe she learned to take care of herself. Maybe she found someone else. Kind of doubtful. She’s in that direction, many moon cycles of travel away. Have to get back to the party now. I am part of them. I care about them less than her, but they are more important. We seek to change things for the better.  She lost that urge, even before I can remember. Her mind, her will, broken. Kind of like Kreek’s I suppose. If fixed, maybe she’ll become more like the elven Tree Singer she was before she broke. Maybe our clan will once again accept and be able to love her if she does. But I must stay with my party now. Will try to discover a way to fix her while I adventure with them, if that can even happen. My decision not to collect and shrink the drow’s mushed face and skull was wise. I must keep self presentable. This town is like my new clan. This party like new family. A shrunken head collection might send the wrong message to both, and upset kids. In my clan, that message would resonate properly. Here, my trophy must be more subtle. I can probably commission a jewelry maker in Neverwinter to incorporate these fingers I collected into a pair of earrings. No one except my party will even know they are the polished bones of a fallen drow foe. I am developing my social capacity now that I understand how fitting in is important. It is time to work on my smiling. This first new big smile will be for the new version of Allesandar. Um, actually she looks really distracted right now. New parts. And everyone looking at her. I will find a reflective surface. My first big new smile will be for me. 

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