In a jail cell...
Mark decides to spend his time trying to steel his mind against terrible psychic influences. He gets about fifteen minutes of mostly unhelpful practice before the sergeant gets back, several books in hand.
"Wasn't sure what book you'd like, so I brought a few. There's your regular fiction - just randomly picked it out from the shelf, then there's some explorer's memoirs. And a book of entertaining avenues of magic, whatever that means. Finally, some kind of self-help book. Sway once for the first, twice for the second, thrice for the third, four times for the fourth."
He stares at Mark, awaiting an answer of some kind.
On the deck of the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...
The deck of the ship, already filling up rather nicely, is soon getting a bit crowded as Sigmund finally crawls out of the dank depths of the ship, presenting himself to his partners in crime.
"Well, it seems that we are ready to go. Remember how we are going to do the things: I go and take one of the guards to the bookseller's house, then I bring both back. By that time you should have killed the other guard and taken his stuff."
Kevin, Scott and Niklas all listen to varying degrees. Only Kevin has anything particularly important to say, though. For a given value of 'important', anyway.
"Alrighto, then. Let's go kick some ass. What took you so long anyway?"
"Nothing, I was just handing a book to Morton and asking if anybody wanted an specific kind of book," Sigmund says, turning to Niklas right after, offering a harpoon. "Glad to see that you are coming. You will probably need some weapon, but I don't know if you would be able to actually hold it."
Judging by the fact that the slightly larger than man-sized chair amalgamation has no hands, Sigmund would guess that's a no.
"I don't think he can hold it. He's made out of chairs, after all. He can just punch people, should be quite effective," Kevin adds. He then realizes one thing - Sigmund's no leader! Why, he probably can't even tell left from right, not to mention that whole mushroom debacle. Therefore, by usurping his right to lead the team, Kevin is acting in the name of the public and private good at the same time. He raises his arm in a vaguely leader-like manner, the way he's seen mighty conquerors do it when they disapproved of his jokes back in the career jester days, and begins leading the team over to the bookstore. As the terrible four make their way through the nefarious crossroads of Shriekpot, during which Sigmund performs a rare combination of confusedly half-screaming and fainting at the same time (though it matters not - he is loyally dragged onward by his fellows, who grab him by his rather handy rubber feet), they observe little activity around themselves.
Meanwhile, back out on deck, Morton has successfully braved the stairs and found that Tailor Craig is indeed right out on deck, speaking to the captain about something barrel-related, and that there seems to be some kind of party going on right now.
On the outskirts of the City of the Dead...
Darren continues his conversation about Karina and her rather noteworthy peculiarities.
"Yeah, sort of. How does she look, compared to how she did in the old days? Any different?"
"Not really - not yet, anyway, as far as I know. And it's kind of difficult to tell - you get used to certain faces, you know? Also, these things take time, and she's only really started to isolate herself the past... erm... fifteen years, I guess? And it was only a month ago when I last spoke to her, too. She hasn't had as much time as some others - like Stephen, for instance. That guy's been stewing in his confused head the entire time he's been undead, I'd say. Only way I know how to prevent becoming like him is to, well, be a normal human being. Talk to people, fit in, that kind of thing."
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 562439 times)