Quoted By:
"<span class="mu-g">SEAFOOD! SEAFOOD!! WAKES UP!!</span>"
He winces at your panicked shrieking, doesn't open his eyes, doesn't get up. He's counting something under his breath. You don't dare to interrupt him further, but your nerves fray as he makes you wait. You inch closer and closer with your crisis, to save time later.
Finally his fingers freeze in their count. With eyes still closed he says,
"Three steps back."
You do so, still holding the gray, fat, rot-pocked writhing <span class="mu-i">fing</span> in your hands.
He opens his eyes to glare at whatever you have to show him, and actually smiles.
"Heh."
You don't know why he's not alarmed; <span class="mu-i">You're</span> hysterical.
"What seems to be the problem, my precocious Tudi?"
"<span class="mu-g">VAT FING! VAT BLEKK BEDSHEETY SPOOKER WOT YEZ SED TER FOIT ME! IT TURNT MUH PEEPEE INNA DIS <span class="mu-i">FING</span>! SEAFOOD! SWEETFOODZ! PLEEZ! YEZ GUTZA SAEV MUH PEEPEE!</span>"
"Wisest of your kind, that is not a thing. It is <span class="mu-i">your</span> thing."
"<span class="mu-g"> BUDDITS GRAAAY! N ROTTY TATTY! WHYZIT GRAAAY! I WAN MUH JOLLY GREEN CHUBBER BAAACK!</span>"
Your circular dance of dismay actually makes him laugh, and the more frantic you get the funnier it gets for him, and you keep cycling through a feedback loop of hope and hysteria looking at him, until he has one palm on his belly and the other on the ground behind him to support his guffaws.
When he's finally done you've run out of tears. Then he tells you,
"Tudi. Come here." When you're in range he scratches you all over, especially on your belly and thighs, centering your <span class="mu-i">fing</span>, the same way he did when he Wed you to Gui Li.
"Done," he says, and claps his hands once. Sumn icky that isn't pizz or jizz comes out yez <span class="mu-i">fing[/ii] to scald the ground, and you suddenly feel like it's yours again. It's grayer and gnarlier still, but the holes are closing. There's an ache in it like you get when a bone or a deep wound's mending.
Not your original nice cuke green anymore, but it's bigger in all directions. And gnobbier. And prehensile, woodjalookadat.
"Snff. Hic. Wad happent toit."
He waves you away. Somehow that reassures you.
"You wouldn't understand. Two diseases and a parasite. As you have no Spiritual Root, I've turned them into a False Spiritual Root, centered on your... root hmhm. Tell me when you tup a mortal female of a sentient dimorphic species."
"...nerh?"
"When you fugg something that is alive and possesses language and ovaries you utter goblin." Ahh. So he turned you back Gobliny then. Coulda jezt said. You're grateful anyway, a rare emotion. He saved yez gerkin. Yerz never calling him Shitfuck again. For now.
"Fanks BigBo-, nerr, Sweetfoods."
•••
You spend most of Daytime trainan.
Gotta gitt gudd if Seafood's going to make Fings for you to fight now.
With Seafood's permission, you spend hours noif-climbing up trees with the Carrionpede Form trying to shank Moar Ow innaskullz.
>29+39=68 Dedder Dust balance
>additional minor reward for dat nat20 lootroll pending</span>
