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[Spinal_Taper]

"So, if I leave, Vesuvius smites me, but what happens to you and yours?"

[Harry Baldman]

In the wilderness somewhere not very far from Eckledun...

Sigmund ponders the current aliveness of his body. It is indeed curious, he thinks, how things are turning around like this. Moments ago he was but a windswept pile of gore, but now? Now he's a badger with a gore phylactery! An immortal creature who shall no doubt bend the entire county to his will in due time. Maybe even more than that! Or maybe he'll just try and find something actually fun to do, who knows? In badger form, he tries to climb a nearby tree, looking all around. There's trees, he determines. Lots of trees. Some clearings as well! And far off in the distance there might be something else. Could be a town. Could be a hill. Could be-

[Will roll: 1]

-an impending heart attack! Something within Sigmund abruptly seizes up, and his badger body emits an involuntary half-shriek as its bodily functions begin to go haywire.

[Will roll: 4-1]

Good news, Sigmund manages to remain in the tree! Wait, is that good news? Does he want to be here? He's kind of dying. There's probably no medical help to be had in the woods either.


In the pleasant skies above Eckledun...

Scott, not quite ready to break out his dead-on meteorite impression, tries instead to intimidate the mortals on the fast-approaching ground, perhaps hoping they would be prepared to arrest his fall with an ectoplasmic trampoline if he gave them enough motivation.

"Mortals! I have been summoned to give you wisdom and guidance from the heavens, prostrate yourselves before this heavenly spirit!"

A mortal flies past him, going upward at an unreasonable pace. Scott suspects his approach is working for all of twenty seconds before he becomes aware that no ghostly trampoline seems to be there to stop him. He promptly hits the ground and disappears into it. The fall continues unimpeded and at an unchanging rate, it seems, though it's hard to tell with the consuming darkness of the depths of the earth engulfing the falling ghost.


In the halls of Castle Fenton...

Niklas is mildly insulted that the voice believes he must be specifically persuaded to bully and inappropriately touch everyone he meets. He makes his displeasure known in no uncertain terms.

~Voice, if you know anything about me it's that I'm all too willing to do radical things in the name of myself, so you needn't pester me.~

~SORRY! NEED MORE COHERENCY IN HERE, CLEARLY!~ the voice booms at him from within. ~IT'S JUST THAT BEING KING FOR THE LAST COUPLE WEEKS HAS MADE ME LOSE ALL FAITH IN HUMAN COMPETENCE! MAKE SURE TO TOUCH EVERYONE YOU MEET!~

Niklas takes note, and engages the maid in possibly entirely redundant conversation.

"I'll have you know I'm the representative of the Black Circle, and I require clothes! Also, I will now touch you."

"Uh, what?" asks the maid, proving Niklas' suspicions of conversation being useless entirely correct. He puts his forefinger on the maid's shoulder, and feels something that's quite difficult to quantify shoot into the poor lady with all due haste. Her entire body spasms for a moment and she falls over, going very still for a bit before getting up again, looking a little more purposeful than before.

"Ah, I see. Clothes, then, is it? Be right back, sir," she says, running off to attend to the assigned errand, returning in but a scant two minutes with a perfectly good few sets of loose finery. She deposits these on the ground, then runs off once again without another word.


In the streets of Eckledun...

Mark has a brilliant idea. How about he takes cover and lets his newfound old friend take care of this whole business? Morton, as far as he recalls, seems the type to not find himself in situations he doesn't happen to have well in hand. So Mark slinks away from the others, seeking to save himself from a horrible death, only to be followed by Morton, Wilma and the T-person. The four of them regroup behind the building, the T-person vibrating a little less intensely than before, though what this could mean, Mark does not feel confident to guess. Morton appears to have nothing to say to this thing beyond a meek offering of tea, which the T-person appears to have no discernible opinion on.


In a quaint, out-of-the-way town...

Kevin goes up to the drifters confidently, feeling that they will surely be able to provide him with all the information he needs. Well, either that or they'll try to steal his money and slit his throat or something. In a town like this, the only way to really know what the locals have in store for you is to go up and ask them yourself, Kevin believes.

The drifters, two in number and seemingly out here to meet one another, one significantly hairy and small in size, the other slightly larger and even hairier, immediately notice the rather lightly-dressed woman coming their way and wave genially, their smiles half-empty of teeth and rather yellow. Both appear to be women.

"Well met, fine sirs, could either of you tell me where this is? I fear I may be lost," Kevin tells them in the most innocent manner he can manage. The question evidently gives the two ladies pause.

"This?" the smaller one says after a moment. "This is here. I think."

"This is the center of the observable universe," the other states. "I observe that existence continues for at least two miles in every direction, just like yesterday."

"Indeed. This is definitely here, like she said," the first one nods enthusiastically. "I hope that helps."


In the chamber of the Crown of Flowers...

Darren, not a big fan of this sticky wicket he appears to have been engineered into, asks a possibly pertinent question.

"So, if I leave, Vesuvius smites me, but what happens to you and yours?"

"Oh, nothing much. I'll figure out the secret of freeing us from this damned city, then we'll probably fan out and do whatever. I think I'll go see what people have innovated in the art of magic, myself. I can't wait to share some insights! Don't know what the others will do, but I suspect something similar, no? Catch up with all these wacky mortals? Figure out what's been happening? Maybe find living descendants? I don't really care, I think. Not anymore, anyway. The important thing is that we'll have gained the upper hand over that insipid twerp of a god and live out our perpetual unlives in endless spite to the god of death and magic, don't you think?" the ghostly fellow elaborates.

[Tomcost]

((So, I went from a presumable immortality to almost dying. Lesson: do not challenge the RNG))

Quickly get back to where the pile of flesh is, hopefully the attempts of the universe to murder him will stop that way.

Conditional if I fail: try to at least keep my soul binded to my pile of flesh.

[Xantalos]

This seems like it has no way to go catastrophically wrong at all. What do you mean, voice? What king are you? What's your name?

[Xanmyral]

[Incredibly sorry Harry, college hammered me with tests, quizzes, and projects recently. Finally got my head above the water for at least a short while.

Also, king-gub in the making I see. I bet the king has similar influence over whoever Niklas touches as he does, or perhaps more.]

Morton held the bottled tea as an offering to Mr. T for a moment, before hesitantly bringing it back. "I--er--suppose that would be a 'no' on the tea then, good sir? If you change your, uh, mind, the offer stands. Its been enchanted to keep the perfect temperature, suitable if you should be of a rather... Intangible nature. I made it myself." The desk hesitantly offered, still keeping the bottle visible in case the strange thing changes its mind.

The desk mentally reconvened after his sentence, coming back to his proper faculties. "But I'm being quite rude, we haven't even introduced ourselves. My name is Carter Morton, desk, butler, and lover of tea. These would be my compatriots and friends, good surgeon Mark and good mage... Wilma." The tea apostle caught himself at the last moment, offering her remembered name and gesturing to the two in kind with his strange arms.

Believe in the powers of good manners and diplomacy!

[miauw62]

Kevin nods nervously.
"Uh-huh... Thank you for your time."
Try to find a road leading out of the town.

[Harry Baldman]

This seems like it has no way to go catastrophically wrong at all. What do you mean, voice? What king are you? What's your name?

~MY NAME? CURRENTLY IT IS... HM, IT WAS SOMETHING STUPID-SOUNDING, I RECALL. SOMETHING LIKE FINTEL FARBO FOUNTAINBRIDGE. DOESN'T MATTER. I'M STILL THE KING, AND THAT'S WHAT'S IMPORTANT. YOU KNOW, THE KING YOU WERE JUST TALKING TO.~

[Xantalos]

And you're in my head? How come?  I wasn't really paying attention.

[Harry Baldman]

And you're in my head? How come?  I wasn't really paying attention.

~OH, THAT'S JUST THAT GOD FUNGUS YOU HAVE IN YOU. I CAN ORDER YOU AROUND WITH IT MUCH MORE EFFECTIVELY THIS WAY. AS WELL AS ANY OTHER CASTLE MINION ONCE I SPREAD THE GOOD WORD, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. YOU CAN DO IT, TOO, ACTUALLY. TRY CHECKING WHERE THAT MAID WENT, FOR INSTANCE.~

You do feel where the maid's gone - she's currently sneaking up on a cook of some kind if you're reading it right. She's run pretty far in the last thirty seconds, you realize.

[Xantalos]

Hmm. It's obvious we must assimilate the world with this, but we'll have to work together. Otherwise I'll probably end up accidentally fucking you over like I have with some others. Now then, that outfit seems like a good thing to have. Get back to my roots!

Try to command the maid to forcibly steal the cook's cook outfit and cook utensils like the knife and cleaver and stuff. Then bring it to me!

[Innsmothe]

Scott will imagine his fall slowing and come to a stop, he will then head towards the upworld once more.

[killerhellhound]

Mark follows Mortons lead and uses very rarely used skills politeness shake the mans and try to greet the fellow with iterpertive dance

[Harry Baldman]

In the wilderness outside Eckledun...

Sigmund, feeling the consuming need to not be horribly dead, crawls back to where he buried his visceral remnants, hugging the ground and hoping it helps. It is at this moment that he starts to regret burying said remnants so deeply, because it doesn't help as much as he'd like.

[Will roll: 4-1]

On the other hand, his heart doesn't seem to be stopping completely just yet, and his soul is sort of holding on in the meantime. Perhaps he could continue to exist like this, on the edge of death. Maybe he could even grow to enjoy it!

He does notice, however, that his buried bits don't seem to be experiencing the same problems as his badger form, feeling snug and lonely beneath the earth.


In the plagued streets of Eckledun...

His offer of tea falling on deaf ears, Morton starts backpedaling.

"I--er--suppose that would be a 'no' on the tea then, good sir? If you change your, uh, mind, the offer stands. Its been enchanted to keep the perfect temperature, suitable if you should be of a rather... intangible nature. I made it myself," he says, but Mr. T appears to want none of it regardless. "But I'm being quite rude, we haven't even introduced ourselves. My name is Carter Morton, desk, butler, and lover of tea. These would be my compatriots and friends, good surgeon Mark and good mage... Wilma."

"... hello," Wilma says with an air of trepidation. Mark, for his part, shakes the man by the legs before breaking into an eminently pleasing interpretive dance that appears to calm Mr. T, decreasing his vibration amplitude considerably. He does not seem to make any other sort of acknowledgement at things being spoken at him.


In a village out in the boonies...

Kevin decides to not discover the exact method of his eventual grisly murder in this out-of-the-way village and looks for a road leading away - he looks for a while, actually, but doesn't find anything that looks like a large thoroughfare - instead, there's just paths leading to nearby and outlying farms, and beyond that there are only woods. There is a road leading to a bridge over a nearby river, but that seems to have collapsed some time in the past, seemingly isolating the farms on the other side from the rest of the village.


In the halls of Castle Fenton...

Niklas readily accepts the burden of being able to influence the minds of the weak and make them do stuff for him.

~Hmm. It's obvious we must assimilate the world with this, but we'll have to work together. Otherwise I'll probably end up accidentally fucking you over like I have with some others. Now then, that outfit seems like a good thing to have. Get back to my roots!~ he thinks forcefully, half to his king and half to the maid. He tries to impel her to steal the cook's clothing and utensils, but the maid just seems highly perplexed for a moment before something seems to reassert itself in her mind, and she merely puts her hand on the back of the cook's neck. The cook falls over, laying there motionlessly. He twitches a couple of times, then becomes still again. One of his arms rises, then falls back to the ground.

~DAMN IT ALL, HE SEEMS TO HAVE DIED. AND THE FUNGUS DOESN'T SEEM TO PROVIDE FULL LOCOMOTION JUST LIKE THAT!~

The maid, now falling back to lower priority commands, it seems, proceeds to undress the cook and steal a bit of kitchenware, which she promptly returns with to Niklas, depositing them in his abnormally large hands.

~why are we doing this?~ he hears a brief question, though the maid's mouth doesn't seem to move at all.

~BECAUSE THAT IS THE WAY THINGS MUST BE!~ the overpowering inner voice of the king bellows back.


Deep in the dirt and stone...

Scott spontaneously decides to no longer confirm to reality's increasingly unreal demands, and starts to imagine himself coming to a stop. It almost works, but then Scott realizes that he is continuing to move, so the plan obviously needs work.

Good news, though, are that it is starting to feel considerably warmer here!

[Xantalos]

First things first, dress self in chef outfit and holster my various pockets. Then head over to where the cook is and inspect his condition. See how bad it is, maybe I can cook up a symbiotic parasite or something to get him moving again!

[killerhellhound]

(well looks like things are getting !FUN! again)

Ask him where did he come from and what is he doing here through interpretative dance

(also am I the only one who finds it funny the only one that communicate is the one who cant talk)