I’ve been doing a lot of self-introspection. I think I’m using that word correctly, mhm. I’ve been thinking a lot, looking inside myself. Ilya said I should do it, and Softie highly recommended it too. Ah? What am I looking for inside of myself? The source of my anger, of course. I’m looking for that stupid cooking pot! It vanished when I needed it the most; I could’ve used it to block attacks like a turtle shell. Gah, where is it?

I’m basically Soul Scouring myself but scouring my body instead of my head. I’m like a bubble traveling through my veins. I’m actually very big, like a city. I could get lost in here. Hmm…, if I were a cooking pot, where would I be? Not inside a person! Grr. Okay, if I were a cooking pot living inside of a cute, squirrelkin girl, where would I be…? Inside her tail! The tail is obviously the most protected spot; it should be safe there. Alright, I’ll go take a peek inside my tail. Which way is it? Mm, no, that’s going towards the front. Ah, it’s over here.

Here, Mr. Cooking Pot, come here. I have a juicy piece of steak waiting to fill you up. If you come out now, I’ll double the offer. No? Ugh. Isn’t there an instruction manual or something for this cooking pot? It’s not like I’d read it, but I’d get Ilya to read it for me, and then I’d know how to control it. I’m out of ideas. How about you, Mr. Heart of Slaughter? Are you still around?

…

Mm, I haven’t been hearing voices in my head after becoming an immortal. Maybe my heart of slaughter died? My heart’s still beating, so probably not. Well, I’m guessing it’s asleep. Anyways, what do I do now? Let’s see…. I gave all the treasures to Ilya to evaluate. She’ll make a virility pill for Durandal with them. I still have to wait for her to make me a hammer with that furry man’s corpse. I also have to wait for her to tell me how much my stuff is worth before I can toss them into the contribution center for points to create missions on the mission board. I have to find a blacksmith to repair Durandal’s weapon body; he’s mostly melted but still hanging in there. Hmm? Why don’t I have to find a tailor for Puppers’ sock body? Because I can fix him myself, duh! All I need is a needle and thread and…. Hmm. I’ve never sewed a furry sock back into shape before. The furry bits were burned off of Puppers. How do I get them back on?

Ah! It’s the cooking pot! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going because I was thinking too hard, but I found it. I’m a genius! I didn’t even have to try to look for it. Actually, where is this place? Is this my tongue? I think it is. What a weird place for a cooking pot to be…. How do I get it out of here? Do I … have to cut my tongue open!? H-hello, Mr. Cooking Pot. Do you … want to get out of my body?

…

No? Hmm…. I don’t have any hands right now. I’m just a bubble. Wait a second. I took advice from one of those invaders, and he said I could make contact with this cooking pot through the mark I gave it. Where was it? Right there, on the outside of the pot, that’s my mark: a beautiful drawing of an acorn. Do I touch this part of the cooking pot with my bubble body? I think I do.

Master!

Holy crap!

Master?

Gah! The cooking pot…, it actually speaks! I really didn’t expect it to. I thought I was supposed to feel it like an extension of my body. I didn’t think it’d actually say anything! Is this an item spirit like Durandal and Puppers? I wonder if those two will get jealous. Actually, I can’t really tell what gender this cooking pot is by its voice alone…. It sounds exactly like how a rock would sound like if it could speak. Hey, uh, Mr. Cooking Pot, how do I get you to come out of my body?

You want me out? Are you trading me away too? I, I guessed that was going to happen…. A cooking pot is such a lame immortal tool, isn’t it? Immortals don’t even need to eat….

What!? You’re not lame at all! You’re the greatest tool I’ve ever seen! Mm, other than my wok, of course. I bet I could make so many delicious things with you. Let’s see, I could make acorn stew, potato stew, tomato stew, ice cream stew, lizard stew, tiger stew, beef stew, good stew, stew stew, the list goes on! Whoever told you immortals didn’t need to eat was a big, fat idiot. Don’t pay them any mind. If immortals don’t eat, what are they going to poop out? Exactly! Everyone poops, and that’s why you’re important.

I’m important because everyone poops? You’re thinking of me as a cooking pot, not a chamber pot, right?

Hmph, what kind of person do you think I am? I’d never poop in a cooking pot! …Unless I really needed to go and I was locked in a tiny room and if I pooped it would go on my bed. There you have it. I need you, Mr. Cooking Pot. What’s your name?

Pot.

Pot? Mm, I don’t really like one-syllable names. Two syllables are much more comfortable. How about you rename yourself into Pottie. Eh, no, that’s a name for a chamber pot. Potpot? Hmm…. I got it!

Potter?

No! What kind of name is that? From now on, you’ll be known as Sir Pot!

Sir Pot. Thanks for bestowing me a name, Master.

Yeah, sure, no problem. How about it? Want to come out now? I have a daughter who’s waiting for me to cook a huge meal for her!

Yes, Master!