At Brenwicke's Books...
Scott, rather pleased with himself right about now, tries to figure out how best to use a guisarme, figuring that he must remember at least something about warfare with such an implement.
He realizes that it would probably be best used against a mounted adversary, to knock them off a horse or whatever with the aid of the hook. Alternatively, he could use it to trip people up. Or just plain stab people very hard. He's got options here. And speaking of options, he has some advice to give as well!
"A door needs a frame to work, right? Break the frame or the wall surrounding it, it will be weaker than steel whether it is brick or wood."
Kevin can't help but admit that the guy with the perforated brain is right. That could indeed work.
"Eh, I guess Scott is right for once. Punch the frame," he says, causing Scott no end of delight.
Niklas, looking slightly bored, tries to punch the frame.
[Niklas punching roll: 1]
The frame is also made of steel. And Niklas manages to chip his chair arm on it something fierce. The wall, in addition, looks to be made of stone or something. While this would make it more fragile, it is also at least four times as thick as the door.
Sigmund, not very happy about the lack of any armor or weapons around here, tries digging through some of the gore with the curtain he stole. He lowers his covered hands into some of the messy stuff.
Eww. He can still hear it squelch as he touches it! That's, like, super-ew! Mega-ew! You couldn't force him to dig through this stuff! Nuh-uh! No way!
At the City of the Dead...
Darren expresses yet more interest about the girl.
"Have you heard anything else about her? I'd hate to be outdone by a little girl, so anything you've heard about her that might help would really come in handy."
"Well, you see, the thing is, I think she has an arrangement with the guard, like I said. I think it involves people vouching for her or something - I haven't really looked into the matter, but I've heard rumors, certainly, and that's all I've got. Like I said - the guard's a polite sort, ask him."
On the deck of the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...
Morton, having heard everything he needed, though not everything he wanted, looks over at the Artiste. Yeah, he appears to have fallen asleep, and is precariously sitting on the barrel. Clearly, he needs to be brought to his room. Morton shuffles over to him and places him on his surface, encountering no resistance from his sleeping master.
"I suppose I shall now go to sleep as well," Evelyn says, noticing the happenings around her.
"Well, I don't think I need to sleep anymore. And I'm also feeling remarkably clear-headed, too. So I guess I'll stay here. Talk to the Captain, maybe. Or the tailor guy. Good night, I guess."
"Good night."
Morton carries the Artiste off to his room, which is indicated helpfully by Evelyn, and rolls him into his bed after nearly dropping him on the floor. Glad that all of the mages capable of sleep have finally gone to do such a thing, he considers what to do next.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564356 times)