Editing Ilsenhoon the Mind Flayer Ministrel (section)

===Chapter 9===
When the cities put out a call for explorers willing to venture into uncharted wilderness, the last person they expected to see was Ilsenhoon. A mind flayer as part of the expedition? Preposterous they said. But nonetheless, Ilsenhoon packed up his guitar and boarded a ship as they made way to the new lands.

He was quite a hit on the ship, entertaining crew and passenger alike. He didn't eat much of anything, except when the crew made up some kebabs, to get rid of some meat before it went bad (and really, that one passenger who ‘fell overboard' hardly counted as a meal). He even offered spiritual wisdom for some who followed Pelor, keeping morale up with scripture set to music.

When the ship landed, however, things were a different matter. The new jungles looked imposing and dense, but the worst part was the other ships. Somewhere along the way, any idea of cooperation and civility had gone out the window. Groups formed, each claiming land as their own sovereign nation. Truly, Ilsenhoon was impressed. He'd seen more monarchies, democracies and republics form and fall in a week than he'd ever seen in his life.

Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder if humans and illithids really were so different. Every once in a while, he saw that spark. The illithid spark of control and domination. It made his heart warm, and yearn for home.

Ilsenhoon soon found himself teamed up with a woodsman, both deciding to ignore the shore-side politics and do what they came here to do: explore. The elf ranger led them deep into the jungle, where they came upon several relics of considerable age. They found sculptures of snakes and scorpions, bronze swords that Ilsenhoon dated back at least two thousand years, of not more. Everything was in remarkable condition, despite the environment.

The elf frequently remarked that what they found would be work a mint back in the cities, sold to the rich and powerful. Ilsenhoon shrugged. Money wasn't really what he was after. Just uncovering the artifacts was good enough. For once, he was making the story himself.

Each expedition into the jungles, Ilsenhoon noted a considerable change in his companion. At first the elf was content to store their loot aboard the ship, but he'd noticed lately it'd been sneaking small relics off, and burying them along the tree line when it thought no one was looking. Foolish elf. Its eyesight might put a human's to shame, but it couldn't see in the dark, not like Ilsenhoon.

The snap finally occurred during one particularly extended trip into the wilds. While investigating a stone temple, overgrown with vines and trees, the elf discovered a large, thick tome, with a heavy gold cover. Ilsenhoon, eager to attempt a translation, requested the book.

That's when the elf lost it, “I knew it! You're only after the money! You want my collection, don't you? Well you can't have it, flayer!” It dropped the tome, and drew both of its scimitars, sneering at the mind flayer cruelly.