On the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...Scott, rather interested in the acquisition of his... well, not hard-
earned cash, but certainly cash that wasn't the easiest to obtain. To further his goal, he wanders into the only area that the Artiste could possibly ever be in - the cargo hold, taking his new buddy with him.
However, disaster strikes! Only the Captain haunts the cargo hold!
"Why, HELLO THERE! I do RECALL YOU, LITTLE MAN. But the LARGE PERSON seems STRANGELY ALIEN TO ME! WHO ARE YOU, LARGE PERSON?""Why, they call me Humongous Hugh Haliburton, and I do mostly enforcing and intimidation for a living - got to keep all the dirty scoundrels in the docks in line, am I right? I also do heavy lifting, but that's really more of a hobby. Who might you be, good sir?""ME? I'm THE CAPTAIN of THIS SHIP! DON'T ASK what my NAME is, I DON'T REMEMBER EXACTLY!""Pity. I'm sure you probably had the most wonderful name.""I GET THAT FEELING AS WELL! CURIOUS, no?"Back on deck, though,
Mark decides to use his current position optimally and go for a bit of fishing.
[Fishing roll: 2]
The fish are afraid of him, it seems.
Good.
Beneath Mark's metallic pelvis, though, a different sort of drama unfolds as
Niklas addresses the increasing crowd of family and acquaintances enveloping him.
"Torkeluweragnaharalniklastur, I'll answer your questions in one conversation. For now, I need to talk with Kruubalnitsomapürongadēe."Torkel sighs as his questions receive no answer.
"Okay, dad."He then turns his attention to the hideous old codger who might help him rather than his own son.
"Kruub, as you can probably tell, I've been turned into a chair and I need to get back to my regular body, preferably with some cooking implements. So I need you to get me hallucinating and then make them real for me when I say. I'll consider us even if you do this, in repayment for me convincing my chef instructor Dârbobītastanacoodlintavor not to make you into hermit crab cakes."Niklas judders and squeaks then, the sound of which would approach a chuckle if one were the type to try and listen in on a chair with the idea that it might even chuckle.
"Honestly, this is probably what I deserve for getting mixed up with mages without being one. Can you believe the people in the town I got chopped up in thought I was a raider? Bah. I'm not nearly experienced enough to be a professional yet."However, before Kruub can answer him, he has one more question.
"How are you here, anyway? I can't see, hear, feel, smell, speak or move.""We are here because you need us. You called to us, and we came. Helsvar came first because of her love, followed by your son and I. All of us are... well, might be important to you in some way, particularly I, if I may say so myself. I will help you, Niklas, but what I need to do is not so simple as merely casting a spell like one of those southern dilettantes might do. What I do is more... cerebral, really. And your thoughts are your thoughts - it is you who must make them real. And for that, you need practice, yes?""Ooh, you're going to learn magic? I've seen magic before. I wish I could do it. I tried many times.""Shh, Torkel. Don't interrupt.""What I propose will be difficult, but ultimately worthwhile for you. Would you agree to this, young man?"As Niklas ponders this option,
Sigmund continues his scintillating conversation with Art.
"I'm asking this to you because I found a peculiar tree near the Yaleson's house. Not only it was able to move, but it was able to hate other beings. And when it concentrated that hate in a particular being, a horrible and weakening sensation was produced in the affected person. I wonder if its soul would retain that quality, it may become a useful artifact."Art looks to have been hit by a revelation.
"Wait, a tree that could do that? That does remind me of something. You know how mages can go... loopy sometimes? Genocidal and such? Well, they had a penalty for that in the Black Circle of Magic. Instead of just killing a powerful mage, they decided to use their bloated soul for something. However, these guys were usually pretty hateful, so they devised a way to calm them - bind them into a tree. I think they were going off the accepted theory that the body molds the soul to fit it or something, and that trees were the most tranquil, peaceful, unmoving things they could think of. At the end of it, they'd get a really rich soul out of the deal at the very least. I think they experimented with the idea - not sure what came of it, but the tree might be related to something like that. Plants don't really have thoughts like that naturally, anyway, I'm sure. I mean, what's the point? So you gotta bet there's magic involved, seriously messed-up magic. The kind I don't touch with a 3-meter pole. And it sounds kinda dangerous as a tree, which are mostly harmless. Not sure what would happen if you set it free from that and bound it to something... less peaceful."Ooh, that's informative. And trivial.
Meanwhile,
Kevin goes and looks for the Artiste.
Fortunately, he is less navigationally-confused than Scott, and the fellow proves easy to find. He appears to be showing the den to Tailor Craig.
"-and these walls, they're covered in this fascinating goop that glows and-""Excuse me, but do you have anything that needs doing?""... actually, yes. Could you go and find me as many books on the Sea of Death as you can? I think they might become rather useful."Task obtained, Kevin guesses!
In a toymaker's house...Morton, rather keenly aware of the shortcomings of his desk form right now, still tries to use his expertise to get the tea in proper shape. He will make a batch of tea that's presentable, and no amount of sensory impairment will stop him!
[Teamaking roll: 5+
1]
He then proceeds to fix his concoction up in exactly the manner outlined, coming up with a rather visually appealing brew. Difficult to say how it will taste, but it certainly looks good. And strong, too.
In Karina's home...Darren, though rather reserved about reliving his glory days, agrees to the request.
"Well, it's been a while since I wailed, and I don't have my band, so don't expect too much."He clears his throat, then begins.
[Vocal performance roll: 4]
He manages a rather neat little number, a song about being dead and rather accepting of the fact. Though hardly a classically-trained singer, he wails in a reasonable pleasing and heartfelt manner. Karina looks rather pleased, and claps when he's done. Her applause doesn't sound quite like a normal human's, her spectral nature making the gesture sound rather more distant than one would think.
"That was quite good, Darren. I like your voice. Do you know any other songs?"
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 556563 times)