At the bottom of the dank depths of the Artiste's house...
Morton is in quite a bit of trouble here. He sighs.
"Bother."
He dusts himself off again and musters his optimism, the only completely renewable resource in the universe.
"Right, second time's the charm as they say."
The butler tries to climb upwards once more.
[Climbing roll: 6]
He leaps upward, then pulls himself over the edge rapidly, rolling along the glass floor as quickly as he can!
[Glass stability roll: 2]
Unsurprisingly, the glass tries to break on him again!
[Morton quick movement roll: 3-1]
[Kevin helpfulness roll: 4]
Morton is about to fall in the pit, but then along comes Kevin, grabbing his hand and pulling the fellow away! Morton is handily taken over to the
[Kevin strength roll: 5]
He pulls the butler out of what was probably sure to be a humiliating cycle of failure, both of them quickly finding themselves at the edge of the pit. This comes as displeasing news to Sigmund, who was fully intending to come to Morton's aid (that is to say, loom over the hole in the floor in a helpful fashion) with his own unquestionably helpful advice. Oh well. Better make idle conversation. He walks up to Kevin and publically admires his weapon.
"So you acquired a fine weapon for yourself. It seems as a rather good one, actually. Have you used it yet?"
Kevin shakes his head negatively, as shrugging would probably be an inappropriate answer in this situation. But it's certainly tempting! Sigmund smiles at him.
"Well, maybe I can find an opportunity for you to test it. I don't know if you have been looking for ships, but I have, and there is something we need: money. I found an impressive mansion in Shriekpot, which should be overflowed with valuable objects. My idea is to get in there offering Niklas services as a cook and ask a retribution for them, or maybe rob whoever lives inside. But, if things go wrong, you could provide support from afar. You would certainly be a valuable asset in such a situation."
Sigmund makes a pause to see how the jester reacts. Then he realizes that skeleton's aren't capable of emoting a whole lot without looking utterly daft in the process and continues.
"On the other hand, considering your profession, you could just do a show. It's up to you."
In the kitchen of the Artiste...
Niklas quickly empties the horse lung into a conveniently located pot, then runs off to dispense soup to everyone.
As he exits the kitchen and walks over to Sigmund, he realizes he has no spoons or bowls to force people to eat it with. Hm.
Meanwhile, Scott tries to make himself more virulent somehow! To this end, he enters the kitchen and tries to fix himself up some nasty pestilence. Shouldn't be too difficult. After all, Niklas does it all the time.
However, there's a bit of a problem with this idea. For one, he has no real tools. Two, he has no way of seeing if it's worked without harming people he literally cannot harm at the moment. Three, it seems that his skin is unusually clean, not to mention that it smells faintly of flowers. He might not be quite as virulent as he used to be.
But damn it all if he's not going to try anyway! He smears himself in readily available horse innards, hoping that the power of the nutrients contained within them will help cultivate a healthy bit of deadly organisms within him. After all, horses eat grass, which is known to be full of rotten little blighters you're best off avoiding. Or so Scott hopes, anyway. He even sticks some down his mouth, not one to neglect the state of his inner microflora.
Now all that's left to do is wait. Several days, probably.
Back in an alley in Emlocke...
Darren figures he'll accept. But only on one condition.
"Uhh, sure. But, as long as we don't kill, right? I mean, if there's only two left, we can just knock them unconscious, right?"
The man looks at Darren strangely for half a second, replying almost immediately afterward.
"Er... suuuure. You can knock them unconscious if you so please."
The dog throws an odd glance toward the man, then looks at Darren expectantly.
In the streets of Shriekpot...
Mark realizes that people are unlikely to trust him with their bodies not because of his unusual appearance, but probably due to the murderous fungus on his body. So he's going to have to get rid of that. He leaps right off a handy pier into the deep sea!
Man, this water is saline like nobody's business. As Mark sinks to the bottom he contemplates the fundamental truths of life.
Like the fact that neither the fungus nor his leaves seem to be particularly keen on shriveling up and dying despite this being extremely salty water. What gives? Do your thing, osmosis!