At Tailor Craig's traveling garment enterprise...Sigmund is not in the best of moods presently.
"Damned firepit is still raging with those hateful flames. And those cursed mushrooms are still growing bigger. This bag's full of them, I'm not going there again in my whole unlife."However, he has had time to deal with his issues in a perfectly rational and adult fashion, so it's easy enough to get back to other, more important things at hand.
"Well, that place could be a perfect tomb for any living person. I think that I will consider that. What were you talking about?"Morton, a tad lost in thought presently, still manages to reply to the arrival.
"Oh, welcome back Good Sir Sigmund! I hope it went well, you seem unharmed and victorious with your excursion! The fire's still roaring though, huh... That doesn't sound pleasant, not at all. Good Tailor Craig was just detailing to me why he has a clawed hand, and the story that goes with it."Speaking of, Morton addresses Craig once more.
"I thank you for telling me, good Tailor Craig, it sounds like they really put you through trials during your stay there, but I'm elated to hear that everything worked out for the better. If you think it alright, I can't say I'm not curious as to what it really looks like if that is indeed an illusion.""Very well. I suppose it's unlikely that you'll be actually harmed in the process. Hang on a second."Sigmund looks over at Craig, not really sure what's going on, but he'll be damned if he's about to miss it. And he's just in time, too. Tailor Craig's glowing eyes flash for a moment, and the air grows cold. Just then, Morton sees that his claw seems to be getting longer and sharper, its shape changing as it leaves the man's sleeve. Now, he can't say what the shape is, but he does notice that it appears to have tendrils branching off in various directions. In fact, said tendrils appear to be growing in size and length, stretching out and filling the air around the robe. Soon enough you can hardly even tell that a claw was there to begin with as the entire field of view of the undead is filled with twitching, broken black lines growing ever thicker until all light in the area is blocked out, trapping both of them in infinite darkness, in which the only two sources of light are Craig's eyes, which resemble two distant suns. Sigmund instinctively looks around, but he doesn't see Morton anywhere around him.
[Sigmund will roll: 4]
As the darkness seems to contract around him, several tendrils seem to pierce into his body, invading his inner workings, twisting them to unknown purposes. It doesn't hurt, really, it just feels incredibly wrong. He may belong in the sunless world, but this sort of darkness is something else entirely. This is something he wants nothing to do with, something he wishes to be as far from as possible. However, since escape seems unlikely, he just tries to weather it, hoping that it will indeed retreat eventually, curling up into a ball and trying to think happy thoughts.
Surprisingly, this works. The tendrils seem to retreat after a while, leaving his body entirely afterwards. After five more minutes of nothing, Sigmund opens his eyes.
Hm, looks like everything's back to normal.
[Morton will roll: 6]
Morton, meanwhile, possesses none of the luxuries that Sigmund does. He is left largely unmoving in the endless void, only capable of wobbling uncertainly at the horrors that seem intent on perverting all that he is, was and will be. The tendrils scratch at his finish, pull at his speech-drawer, pierce into his eyeknobsHis legs seem to break under the force of the tendrils, then are put back together, only to be broken again. And through all this, the things draw ever closer to his most valuable possession - his tea! At the moment when he feels most helpless, when his vaunted tea is in the greatest peril, when its purity is under risk, Morton, despite being a desk, feels a rush of adrenaline, or at least a purely mental equivalent, come to him in a great wave! He starts to spin violently and rapidly, forcing the tendrils out of his being, making them retreat back into where they were! The darkness, unprepared for such a reaction, seems to draw back, giving Morton precious room. After valiantly defending himself, Morton feels there is only one thing to do. The darkness is defeated, and only one thing left to do.
He stares into the eyes of Craig, and for a moment he thinks he can sense a kind of smile on the part of the man. The eyes seem to grow larger and brighter until they explode in a flash of light. When Morton regains his sight, he finds himself back where he was, right next to Craig. Sigmund, who is currently examining his presently mushroomless guisarme critically and disbelievingly, appears to be rather okay as well, if a bit confused.
"That was certainly educational, don't you think? I assure you, I didn't do a thing except momentarily deactivate the enchantment. This is merely how it works."In a filthy flophouse...Scott explains to Red-Chested Elron how the payment for his services is to be received.
"Then go to the 'haunted' ship berthed in the docks, my minions there will give you the gold. My sergeant, a dandy of a person known as The Artiste will give you your reward. However, he is a fore'nor and very specific to how he is addressed, as he knows little of our language. His name is Yufes Toring Kent. So at the berth, shout out: 'Artiste Yufes Toring Kent, I am owed x by your betters, I would like it now Yufes Toring Kent.'"Red-Chested Elron nods, and Scott limps away to Purple Pete Petersen's place, still keeping up that pseudo-crippled impression for some reason. He arrives at the house in a short while - it is not really a luxurious place, but is certainly several steps above a hovel.
In the streets of Shriekpot...Mark, having no time to waste, goes ahead to try and murder the scrawny fellow.
[Mark stealth vs. Scrawny Guy perception: 2-1 vs. 2]
The fellow pays surprisingly little attention, and Mark is almost within melee range when he turns around and takes a good look at him.
Naturally, the fellow tries to run.
[Fellow escape roll: 1]
[Mark pursuit roll: 2+1]
However, it is futile. Mark catches up with him easily.
[Mark vs. Scrawny Guy: 3+1 vs. 3]
He then gives him a scratch. The fellow yelps and keeps running.
[Fellow escape roll: 6]
[Mark pursuit roll: 3+1]
Clearly, the scratch has put the fear into him properly, as he starts to run rapidly, taking Mark a little by surprise!
[Fellow escape roll: 1]
[Mark pursuit roll: 1+1]
He runs into a wall by accident, but Mark still can't quite catch up! Mostly because he ran right past him!
[Fellow escape roll: 5]
[Mark pursuit roll: 2+1]
This proves to be quite the mistake on Mark's part, because when he gets back to where the guy ran into the wall, he finds that he is gone! Completely vanished out of sight!
In a foggy cabin...After failing to find any helpful people,
Kevin tries to find a chair.
This proves surprisingly difficult. No proper chairs that he can find, so he just sits down on an errant footstool.
"Hang on! I'll open a window!" goes the voice again. Moments later, a breeze starts up, and the fog starts to thin.
On the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...Niklas, currently a bit busy developing more psychoses than a man his age has any right to have, keeps on singing merrily. Well, at least his catfish part. His original face does provide twitching support, though.
Also, to answer Xanmyral's question, I plan very little. Most of it is the luck of the draw, with me appropriately filling in details as you seek them out.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 557687 times)