The Writings and Letters of Petals Ticklefoot

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AbigailAlberta
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The Writings and Letters of Petals Ticklefoot

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Here lies the diary entries, adventures, rants, and letters of Petals Ticklefoot. She is the 18-year-old daughter of turnip farmers Ivana Ticklefoot, and Harry Ticklefoot, niece of the Hin convict Hans Ticklefoot and older sister to 5 younger brothers and 3 younger sisters.




Petals grew up in a prosperous family of turnip farmers, from the Ticklefoots clan her little nestle of a community was mostly made up of other Hin farmers a lot of whom consisted of cousins and distant relatives. This allowed her to grow up in relative harmony with her younger siblings, nestled warmly in their burrowed home in the side of a lush green hill she shared a soft goose feather bed with her three younger sisters. She spent a lot of time helping her Pa fix farming equipment, putting things together with her bare hands and just as readily taking them apart. She loved nothing more than analyzing the inner contraptions of things and understanding how each part played in making an invention or equipment work. At a constant competition with her twin brother Liefs, she detested hunting going as far as constantly disarming her brother's hunting traps when he would try and snare rabbits or any other game. This led to a rivalry between the two that ended in prank traps that drove the family crazy with laughter. On quiet nights the sound of the Ticklefoots from their burrow could be heard cascading upon the wind to nearby farms.

Their quite large family was well known in the hamlet and nearbye villages, her father's turnips being some of the best in the region, which many contributed to his joyous personality and warm heart. Devote halflings it was not uncommon to find the family spending the weekend visiting the temples of Yondalla, and Tymora with fresh baked offerings and honest prayers. Ivana Ticklefoot made it a steadfast tradition to take her children with her to worship every Saturday at dusk at the neighboring village's temple of Mystra. Ivana having been an acolyte of the goddess during her youth in Waterdeep. If a villager ever needed a remedy for boils, healing words for cuts or scrapes, a tonic for fever, they would go to the pretty Middle-aged Hin with wild curly red hair and ask for assistance.

Although Ivana does love her life and family, she wants at least one of her daughters to follow in her footsteps and embrace the weave. She had thought that her oldest, (and dare she say favorite) Petals would take up this calling, as she always sought out mysteries and wanted to know the important questions of how and why. They had even gone as far as to have her take private lessons at the local temple. And while Petals was learning lessons on magic from the apprentice wizard, a dashing and devilish young gnome named Wilfiz Klulnulme, she seemed a little too interested in the lessons than her mother predicted. The normal questions of what she had learned that day were always followed with choked laughter, a blush or even worse a devious smirk that made her mother remember exactly how she had been after meeting her husband at the Marketplace in Waterdeep. And naturally her parents decided they would rather spend their hard-earned money on something other than how this mischievous gnome was teaching their teenage daughter the more creative uses of the Mage Hand cantrip.

With Liefs taking over the farm both of her parents wanted Petals to explore the world and soak it in before settling down or having a serious relationship with an aspiring wizard gnome two villages over, no matter how clever his applications of spells were in the bedroom. So, Ivana did the only thing she could think to do, pack all of Petals shit up, tell her she was moving to Waterdeep and sent word to the temple of Mystra that she would be on her way. Ivana sure that her old home and sanctuary could find use for a feisty young Hin. She knew in her heart they'd keep her in one piece, give her good useful work, and help her figure out how to be an adult. She wanted Petals to blossom, go on adventures and most of all to find her own magic.
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AbigailAlberta
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I'm not short!

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I want it stated for all to know, or at least this diary... That I am absolutely, 1000% not short. Never in my life have I been called short before moving to this city of freakishly tall giants. I am actually quite lanky for a hin especially a woman, my whole life I have been Tall Petals. The Tall Ticklefoot girl. I am even an inch taller than my twin brother Liefs. So then why diary, at a staggering 3 feet 7 inches am I constantly called tiny?

I am a woman now, no longer a gangly tween, I have beautifully curved hips and as Wilfiz complemented graced with perfectly sculpted breasts- yet every single day I am mistaken for a little girl. Half the city thinks I am a human child who has wandered into the street. Someone asked if I lost my Mommy the other day. It is simply humiliating.

Nothing in this city is my size, and if I want to go to the only place where things are my size I have to travel through the most dangerous part of town, wiggle down a dank dark hole and root around in a dimly lit stone confinement most likely built in the dark ages which honestly the Lady Luck might be the only thing keeping it from collapsing on itself. Not to mention where too many Hin wear suspicious trench coats that look like they could pop open to display either stollen goods or a naked men underneath.

Up top while safer is nauseatingly worse which considering the warrens smell like unwashed chamber pots and mildew is really saying something. The first thing diary is that at all times I have to be constantly aware of my surroundings, not to keep myself from being lost or getting robbed but because half this city is determined to run me over with their insanely large horses, no I won't even call them horses I will call them trampling death machines of gigantic proportions. They're everywhere... Especially a rather horrifyingly stomppy horse my friend Declan owns. Declan always calls me short, because as he says, I am short. So, I refuse to call him Declan and simply call him Mister. He is incredibly tall, and incredibly blonde, and incredibly shiny, his armour honestly could blind someone if he wasn't careful. I think he has read too many of the knight romance novels through because he runs around with a freakishly long lance like he's going to joust on the ground. Yes, he tries to joust rats to death.

Speaking of the rats, these are not normal rats, not the kind my father takes care of with our old orange tom cat. These are grotesquely mutated rats the size of hunting dogs or small ponies. Even the rats are freakishly huge! OF COURSE I'M GOING TO LOOK SHORT. There also appears to be no other gnomes or halflings hanging around in the city. I've yet to formally meet one. So, I am always the smallest person in the room. I have a feeling my mom sent me here knowing this so I can't date.

Nothing in this city is built with a halfling or gnome in mind. I have to hoist myself up the carriage step, I have to pull myself up to see the top of shop counters, my feet never touch the floor when I am swallowed by chairs. Ponies? Never seen them. Clothes my size, have to put in a special order or shop in the kid section, the 6 and under section to be completely honest. Even worse I can't always reach door handles and forget about high latches or upper cabinets. Goblets take two hands to hold, and everyone always asks if I'm old enough to drink.

My roommate at the Temple, diary, is a few screws short of a contraption, in the nicest way possible of course, she's really kind but half the time I am like "Lady what are you doing?" She calls me pet. Yes, let that sink in. I am a pet. Oh, and cute and adorable and innocent. I am growing to love her but sometimes when she coos on, I have to just stare and blink up at her like "Lady are you serious right now?"

You would think the elves being on the short side themselves would understand the sensitivity of it, but no, most of the time they are just as bad or worse than the humans. No one ever calls elves short, and when people are compared it is, "you are short for a human or tall for a human."

Double standards. Double standards everywhere.


Diary, honestly I see no solving this, the more I fight their words the more they insist it is true, so I will do my best to not throw a dart at the next person who crouches down to talk to me or picks me up like a toddler. Instead, I will think on brighter things, like dumping milk in their boots as they sleep, or moving all their things around when they are out, perhaps even leading Declan's demon horse into Nova's prized flowers. Then they shall be too busy to call me short for a while. I hope.
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AbigailAlberta
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Death and a Paladin

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Dear diary, today has been utterly exciting and also the worst day probably ever. We have a new exchange paladin at our temple, and damn if he's not sexy. Oh Peart, how he makes my body long for his sweet whispers of my name. Great ass too. Armour even shinier than Declan's and I honestly didn't think that was possible considering the excruciating time he spends polishing it.

On a different note, Declan went to his sister's wedding, totally didn't invite me but took a date, it sounds dubious considering he will give zero answers. I am sure the date was none other than his demon horse. I will have to investigate this information carefully.

Not the only fact I learned today, I knew that Lady went on about how great the Thay are, which I mean diary as already stated she's a few bolts short of a crossbow. Yet, I did not know that our temple were active friends with them. Apparently, we had a shipment of supplies from them. No doubt off the backs of slave labor but I am still new, and Nova runs the place so apparently, we're friends with slave traders? I guess Wizards are Wizards even if they wear red.

So one of the Clerics... Moonshadowdarkhorse? or something was like, "you are all going to find out what happened to the shipment!"

Which was fine, still not cool where our equipment is sourced from, not exactly ethical. I'm not surprised we had a cleanup mission; nothing ever goes as planned, even deliveries it seems. We find out the information and are talking about strategies when Luva just up and leaves the room, comes back five minutes later and shoves all my stuff from OUR BEDROOM, because they still think that us bunking is still so adorable, into my arms and she hands the keys over to Peart. Now, on one hand, I am excited he's staying because it makes the walk of shame much shorter, but on the other hand she just ups and gives OUR room away, doesn't ask, just hands me my miserably small number of belongings over, my "not cute" underwear in full view of this stunning Yandalla worshiping Paladin.

Then she basically shoves me to the stairs like a secretary or pack mule and tells me to get the potions. Peart came to keep me company, and I can't remember exactly what we said because I had him walking in front of me, now diary I know what you're thinking, plate armour- can't see that booty, but you can, you just can when it's crafted that well.

Then we find out that there are basically no potions, which Declan dismisses because he's a Paladin and we'll all be fine. I had my stuff together and besides being highly worried about that statement went on with the group. We headed north up to the town which's name is long and complex and not worth even remembering. Luva met some chickens, Declan kept trying to scout even though Feathercap and I were like just don't. We finally make it down the road, everyone agrees to wait because there were hills everywhere. Feathercap gave me great advice and helped me improve on my scouting. I even found a gnoll arrow and paw prints but that's when things went to shit. We all had different ideas on how to deal with the Scout Gnolls we found, where to stand, how to stand all that. Finally, we came together and Feathercap snuck forward, killed two of the gnolls by himself but the third got away and alerted all the other gnolls.

We all advanced, and I went to take high ground helping Declan slay a gnoll on the way, I got separated from the group, not realizing how far up I'd walked, I saw them charging towards the others and threw a dart before I could think how stupid that was on retrospect hanging over a ledge in full view by myself. I got the attack on them but about three of them threw meaty hatchets at me and diary this is where it gets crazy, I died.

It was horrible 10/10 would not recommend. Being dead wasn't too bad, I don't remember much of it, but coming back was rough as hell. I woke up naked on the temple floor people just gawking at my NAKED body. Nobody saying anything. Nobody giving me a cloak or anything to cover me up!

Featherdancealotinadreamcircle had risen me from the grave. On that note, I should probably learn his name and get him a baked good or something?

Peart is right there, and I proceed to vomit profusely right next to him all over Nova's floor. Eventually the sometimes reptile, sometimes elf, always a badass, Ish, hands me all my stuff. I don't know when they had time to undress me.... or if that is part of the resurrection process or if I should inform the Watch, but I had my stuff again, my potions were even nicely sorted in my backpack. Which was nice considering she was probably quite busy fleeing for her life and all.

I got dressed, fell into a few pews trying to figure out how to damn walk again... Someone asked if I was okay, I was certainly not okay, but apparently while running away they had time to gather the supplies and that was the priority so everyone, but Declan went upstairs and sorted it.

So naturally not wanting to be alone in the place I was just dead, half dragged myself half tumbled up to the super secret room, and then blacked out on the floor. A nice few minutes of pure black, cool, sleep that Nuro would no doubt make fun of as a nap. Eventually Declan was there and waving wine under my nose. I was helped to sit against the wall while loot was distributed, Feathercap came back crying seeing if I was okay, we had a really really beautiful moment where we hugged and expressed our joy at me not being dead-dead then it got to the important thing which was figuring out who was getting what and where everything went.

Luva went upstairs got a new key for our new room and then left to go sleep. Come to find out, no one knew which room it was that she went to, or had an extra key, so diary, here I am in a pew with a fur blanket, next to where my body laid sprawled out naked a few hours ago. Cold wood like the bottom of an ill fated coffin under my ass. Peart didn't even offer to share my bed with me. Yes, diary I died trying to find supplies unethically sourced from Thay slave hands, to suffer the nauseating effects of not dying and be kicked out of my room. And the worst part of it? I didn't even get laid.
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