In the Yaleson house...
Mark realizes that Morton's unlikely to let him past based on words alone. So he'll have to utilize that classic of classics, the staredown of interfering maggots that won't let a visionary do their work.
[Staredown: Mark vs. Morton: 5 vs. 2]
Mark manages to contort his crown into a face that exudes sheer confidence, seriousness, reproach and the very essence of doctoring so serious and nebulous, one would never dare question it! Morton's eyes become as dinner plates as he begins to back away from the medically inclined creature, resuming the backing up that characterized his earlier stance on the issue. He backs up all the way up the stairs, freeing up the way for Mark to do his thing. Now, let's see, where is the patient?
Meanwhile, downstairs Sigmund tries to cope with the terrible trauma of his eternal enslavement-to-be. To do this, he performs what he believes to be a typical slave action.
"What do you want me to do now, master, I suppose?"
"Your halfhearted commitment is heard and appreciated, Ziggy. That's more than I get from most minions like yourself, so count that as a compliment! As to what you could do, I don't know."
"Mingle, maybe?"
"Yeah, you can do that. Mingle with these guys. You'll be working with them soon."
"You mean, we will use these miserable excuses for undead?"
"Yes. Very much so, in fact. You have to work with what you have."
"Ain't that the truth."
Suddenly, the door to the kitchen is kicked open, a scary helmet popping into view from the kitchen.
"MAT TID."
"Despite not having the foggiest what that means, I'll assume that was consent to being eternally enslaved. Well, it doesn't really matter, but I like to think that it was."
The Artiste snaps his fingers at Niklas, who suddenly feels like a thousand bonds of unwanted civilization have entangled his wild and free soul!
"Come here, you crazy foreigner, you!"
Niklas, oddly enough, feels compelled to follow this directive.
"And you there, skeleton!"
The jester, Kevin, who thought that his mental sighs were the pinnacle of skeletal stealth, looks at the Artiste with a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness, though this nuanced expression can only be appreciated by him, since he is a skeleton and incapable of facial expressions. The Artiste snaps his fingers at him shortly.
"Since you cannot speak, you consent automatically to eternal enslavement. Sorry, that's just the way it works. Such is life, unlife, death and all that."
Kevin drops to his knees as his soul feels like it's been tied to a distant rock that's been thrown into an infinite abyss! Man, getting soulbound by that guy sure stings! Totally not like Gary!
On the second floor of the Yaleson house...
Scott, seeing his husband improve all of a sudden, starts to quickly work on actual medicine duties! He's been left to fester for too long, it's been killing him! Better wash his wounds and all that.
[Medicine roll: 4]
Luckily, he's been keeping a bowl of stagnant water and a bottle of rubbing alcohol for exactly this purpose! He fixes any wounds, erupted boils and other things Gary might have, then looks for some clean cloth. Sadly, the only thing he can find is a slightly less filthy pile of rags than the ones on the bed. Hm. Idea!
"It would be appreciated if someone would collect and boil strips of willow bark, before delivering the liquid!" he shouts at the door.
Mark, being right outside the door, considers this request, though he can't help but be put off by it. Clearly, they practice medicine very differently in this backwards part of the world.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 562411 times)