On the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...Mark, feeling something might be amiss, looks at the chair with a measure of distrust. Where'd this thing come from, huh? And why does it look like it's moving? Turning around, to be specific.
[Niklas seduction roll: 5+1]
And why is it emitting such an... inviting, enchanting squeak? Mark feels his knees become a bit weak as he looks at the turning chair. If he were less of a skeptic, he'd say choirs of invisible angels of Narcillicus were calling him over.
[Mark will roll: 2-
1]
Mark finds himself beckoned to the chair by the squeak. It wants to be sat on. He can't resist the plush! He slowly walks to the chair, his mental resistance crumbling away as he sits down in it.
Man, if he had lungs, he would be sighing with comfort so hard right now. The Artiste seems to be saying something to him, but screw that. He's got a chair, and it's
damn good.
Meanwhile, the wonderful world of
Niklas experiences a disturbance! He has failed in attracting the creature! Instead, some other schmuck has sat down on him! The creature seems offended.
"I thought you loved me, Niklas," the creature says.
"How could you do this to the mother of your own child?"Oh dear. That's awkward.
On the road north from Emlocke...Kevin keeps on running like he really means it, and this time he does see something interesting! Namely, an old, weathered, half-destroyed sign pointing north-northwest. It says "Bromhandel, 24 miles".
He isn't sure what this means, so he keeps on running.
At a toymaker's workshop...Sigmund examines the rather beamish
Morton for a moment while he thanks the toymaker.
"Thank you, thank you, good Sir Toymaker, these are more than perfect! I don't mind at all, it is the very least I could do for your help, good sir, do you perhaps have a stove and some kitchen supplies I could use? I believe I should have everything else handled."The toymaker nods happily, pointing at a certain ornamented door.
"Right behind that door, my good man."As Morton joyously rifles through his teamaking supplies, Sigmund offers words of support.
"Now, finally, you are going to be able to handle things on your own, Morton. I suppose that you will be able to read that book by yourself. Not that I don't want to have a reading session with you, but at least you don't depend on me anymore.""Indeed, it will feel wonderful to have some autonomy again in some tasks, no door an obstacle and no object out of reach anymore! I do agree that putting our heads together when we read the book will probably be the most beneficial, we may have differing ideas as to what is said after all," Morton says, gesturing expressively with his lovely arms as he locates all that he needs in his drawers.
At the Feisty Jelly...Scott, feeling mostly disappointed, grudgingly enters the Feisty Jelly and heads right for the barkeep.
"I'd like to order an inordinate amount of whiskey, ale and cider to be delivered to the haunted ship in the harbor, please, and will pay upon delivery and only upon delivery."The barkeep looks at him, visibly perplexed by the request and a touch peeved.
"Do I look like some delivery service to ya? Y'want booze, you buy it here for retail prices and you drink it from a glass or a tankard, you understand? I'll not be abettin' an' abidin' this crummy import-export thing! That stuff's for violent criminals, don't you know!"Oh dear. How barbaric.
At Karina's home...Darren is at a bit of a loss. He's been to lots of places.
"Places I've been... could you be a bit more specific?"Karina laughs awkwardly.
"Um... no, not really. I'm not really positive on what's outside - I haven't left in so long. I just want to hear what it's like, you know. You're the glamorous adventurer and all. I'm sure you've got a story in you, right?" she says, nudging Darren gently with her hand. It feels rather weird to Darren, as she seems awfully solid to him. More solid than anything he's felt so far, certainly. And he seems to be equally solid to her.