In a slightly less foggy cabin in the woods...
Kevin decides to potentially give his newly-obtained vocal apparatus a good workout.
"It's a long story, really. You see, I used to be a skeleton. May I sit down?"
The fellow smirks, puffing his three pipes all at once.
"Oh, you hardly need to ask, buddy. My house is your house. Well, as long as you don't go into the pantry. That's where I keep the herbs, and that's off-limits. Can't let you mess up the system I've got there. Otherwise, do as you will."
Oh. That's good, Kevin guesses.
At Purple Pete Petersen's place...
Scott hates being dismissed like some sort of unimportant fellow nobody likes! It reminds him too much of his general status as an unimportant fellow nobody likes! And he can't have that. This house is going down.
[Pyromaniac destruction roll: 1]
He lights up one of his firebombs and tries to hurl it at the house! However, he forgets to let go in time! This results in him getting pitch all over his poor, unfortunate legs, creating a rather sizable fire!
[Fire control roll: 1]
Scott then proceeds to explode into flames! He attempts to stop, drop and roll, but only manages to land right on the rest of his firebombs, which also are set on rather terrible fire! All of him is soon on fire most terribly, even good ol' Gary! Scott shrieks and tries to put himself out, but the pitch is too flammable and sticky to get out of his clothes comfortably!
At the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...
Sigmund, realizing that whatever sort of monkey business is at play here, Scott's probably involved, so it's in his interest to either stay out of it entirely or find out more about it to avoid it more effectively. After a moment, he chooses the second option.
"We don't have any business in which we need help, just maybe information on some things. You mentioned that someone with a woman's jaw promised money o your person, what did you give him in exchange?"
"Oh, I gave him directions to this one guy's place. I couldn't help the fella myself, you see, but I could point him to someone who could. So I said to him, I'll point him to the guy for ten coppers, he promises me that and five gold on top. If that's not fishy, I don't know what is. Still, figured maybe this 'sergeant' of his, the Artiste, might actually give me something, so I came over here anyway, maybe find out more about the guy beforehand. Seemed pretty unstable to me, so thought I'd be able to avoid him better in that case."
Ah, a man after his own heart. How nice. As Sigmund processes this information, Morton gets words of his own in edgewise.
"You have my sympathy, Sir Elron. Although I may not look like it now, I too suffered from horrific burn, it killed me even, to be frank. I'm glad to hear that they don't bother you much now, and I wish you luck in your endeavor for a lifemage. It is a pleasure to meet you for sure, my name is Carter Morton, butler by trade, although most just call me Morton."
"Killed, you say? So, you were what, brought back from the dead? As a desk? Does that happen often?"
Suddenly, the singing stops. Instead, it now sounds like a rather insane reading from a lunatic's cookbook. Wherever it's coming from, the present people sure are glad they are at a respectable distance from it.
However, their gladness does not last, as soon Niklas arrives at the gangplank, somewhat confused about all these weirdos and a desk hanging around. He still continues his catfish-assisted explanation, though.
"-AND THEN YOU FILL THE INTESTINES WITH MEAD! THERE! NOW YOU HAVE MEAD-FILLED SEAL INTESTINES IN UNDER FIVE MINUTES! ENJOY! ENJOY, I SAY!"
In the streets of Shriekpot...
Mark closes in on his quarry, hoping to corner the fellow.
[Mark stealth vs. Scrawny Dude perception: 3-1 vs. 6]
This time, though, the guy seems him coming from quite a distance away. Probably because he's a tad paranoid now. Upon noticing the hunter of men in the street, he once more runs!
[Scrawny Dude escape roll: 6]
[Mark pursuit roll: 2+1]
You know, it's at times like these that Mark really wishes he could have adrenaline, if it could make a man run like that. That guy's quick as the wind. Possibly quicker, actually. Before Mark even knows it, the guy's woven through so many alleys, Mark couldn't follow him even if he could catch up to him. Damn it, this guy. This guy. It's ridiculous.
In the ghostly catacombs...
Darren, since his head is already poking through the door, takes a moment to appreciate the view, sizing up the nice lady.
"Oh, hello. Sorry to barge in, but I'm looking for an artifact. Crown of Flowers?"
Though Darren can't tell much about her intentions just from her bearing, he can say that she's rather decent-looking - her features are unusual, and she is most certainly not classically attractive, but the slight strangeness of proportion in her face and body gives her no small amount of charm.
"Oh dear, that's in the depths. The farthest depths, maybe even deeper. You shouldn't leave the town, it gets pretty strange deeper in. Crazies all about. Better stay here in town, really. Much safer. Much more pleasant company," she answers, smiling at Darren with the last bit.
"But oh, how untoward of me. I'm Karina, and this is my home. Who might you be?"