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[miauw62]

((We still don't know exactly what the Artiste is. For all we know he could be the avatar of Cthulhu. I'm just hoping I can get away and warn the Artiste on time.))

[Tomcost]

((We still don't know exactly what the Artiste is. For all we know he could be the avatar of Cthulhu. I'm just hoping I can get away and warn the Artiste on time.))

((You don't know in character all that is happening, but you could certainly say that we are in jail.

And, judging by that conversation in which the Artiste said that he had a boss and that he had to organize files, I think that he is just an administrative employee of the gods))

[miauw62]

((An administrative employee of the gods possesses some random zombie guy and then is later seen as a guy organizing a trip to an uninhabitable island? Besides, we've never seen him commune with the gods or so.))

[Xanmyral]

[This is becoming a touch bad in situation I suppose. Hope the Artiste gets out alright.]

~Yes actually, we both went through the same dimension and met the same demon unless something strange had transpired, but I believe it to have gone normally, for that which amounts to normalcy with such a place. My compatriot is actually male, or at least he was one physically before he entered the realm to be truthfully honest. But yes, we both went through the same ordeal and changed our forms to what they are, yes indeed. It was certainly an interesting trip, if a touch unexpected given the circumstances, at least if for no other than for myself. I don't believe I've seen anyone go through the ordeal and come out similar to one another, it's quite the peculiarity if not entirely unexpected I suppose.~

[Tomcost]

((An administrative employee of the gods possesses some random zombie guy and then is later seen as a guy organizing a trip to an uninhabitable island? Besides, we've never seen him commune with the gods or so.))

((Because he wants to become more powerful, and that's not allowed by the gods. That's why he wants to get to the Realm of Dreams: to "imagine" more power for himself))

[Innsmothe]

((We are screwed anyway. This can only end in either the whole party dying (due to the Artiste being executed), or the whole city guard being somehow destroyed by Niklas. The first alternative is the most likely to happen))

((I can bet that Harry found all his plans for story progression quite unlikely to happen. And the deadly part of the chapter was supposed to be the Sea of Death. I think that we are just not going to see it))

[[I just hope he is still enjoying it.]]

[Tomcost]

((We are screwed anyway. This can only end in either the whole party dying (due to the Artiste being executed), or the whole city guard being somehow destroyed by Niklas. The first alternative is the most likely to happen))

((I can bet that Harry found all his plans for story progression quite unlikely to happen. And the deadly part of the chapter was supposed to be the Sea of Death. I think that we are just not going to see it))

[[I just hope he is still enjoying it.]]

((If he suddenly felt that torturing players (like every good GM does) is not fun anymore, he would just close the waitlist, or something simmilar))

[Harry Baldman]

At the Brotherhood of Fine Furniture and Other Odds and Ends...

Niklas does his best to negotiate a payment plan with the fellow.

"If I don't have the money within the day, however, will I get my money back?"

"No."

Oh. That's disappointing.

"Hold that thought. Filed under CHAIRMAN NIKLAS, preferably. I shall be right back."

"I shall await you, then."

With that, Niklas runs right out, hoping to find quick, easy sources of income. He runs and he runs, thundering down the streets like a suspiciously busy buffalo, eventually comes across a large building with rather armed and armored people standing outside. They look familiar for some reason.


In the corridors of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Kevin just keeps on playing dead, hoping that whatever these people want, they'll leave him alone eventually.

Fortunately for him, they do! They eventually lift him up, plop him down on some hard surface, then they seem to leave, shutting a door of some kind behind them. Granted, Kevin is still in a bag and mangled, but at least he isn't buried under a whole lot of immovable dirt.


In the main lobby of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Scott does his best to try and get out of this investigation, providing information readily.

"The Artiste is not much of a villain despite his necromancy, his lack of responsibility for his peons actions however are at best an annoyance for the city and at worse a danger. I believe he is currently at the dock, I recently delivered him a 'special' brew from one of the taverns nearby, I hope he is enjoying it. He is fairly affable, though I do not afford him much courtesy, as he allowed for the destruction of my husband at the hands of one of his partners."

"Mm-hm. Rather interesting."

"... Is... Is there any chance I can go now? Technically all I did was pick the lock to the shop, whilst I engaged the guards I took pains not to kill them, though it was more like I took pain when they tried to kill me. But the deaths were the constructs doing at the lanky bastard's behest."

"Not yet - still a few questions, I'm afraid. Firstly, and this is for clarification, 'lanky' is Mr. Sigmund with the funny name, right? Secondly, who else is associated with this Artiste? Thirdly, do you have some kind of place you base your operations out of? Fourthly, I'm going to need your thumbs. Standard procedure for lockbreakers, y'see."

Carlson looks over at the receptionist, who hands him what looks like a rather brutal pair of scissors.

"You don't have any fresh blood, right? We can just get this done here and I can send you on your way."


In the amputation room of the guard HQ in Shriekpot...

Sigmund makes idle conversation with the butcher man.

"Well, I think that I went through another dimension, and I was transformed into this. Tell me, it was difficult to sever it because of how uncommon is its structure, or because it is particularly hard?"

"The bones seem to be pretty hard - they kind of seem like weird glass in a way. Pretty curious. I'll be experimenting with this thing, that's for sure," he says, waving Sigmund's severed arm in his hand.


On a strange ship in Shriekpot...

Morton continues his mental conversation.

~Yes, actually, we both went through the same dimension and met the same demon unless something strange had transpired, but I believe it to have gone normally, for that which amounts to normalcy with such a place. My compatriot is actually male, or at least he was one physically before he entered the realm, to be truthfully honest. But yes, we both went through the same ordeal and changed our forms to what they are, yes indeed. It was certainly an interesting trip, if a touch unexpected given the circumstances, at least if for no other than for myself. I don't believe I've seen anyone go through the ordeal and come out similar to one another, it's quite the peculiarity if not entirely unexpected I suppose.~

~Ah. But how did this happen? I do not know of any stable portals to other dimensions, and the two of you don't seem to be demonologists. That is, if you don't mind me asking.~

[Xantalos]

Niklas engaged his think. All his previous interaction in this town had either been killing stuff, wrecking property, or being attacked. Therefore, familiar was bad.

Avoid the guard people, look for a banking establishment. If bank found, request to borrow 2 gold, 3 silver. If no bank found, enter random houses (knock lightly first) and politely ask if I may borrow 2 gold, three silver. Continue until I get the money.

[Innsmothe]

Yes, Messier Sigmund. As for associates...some horrible enchantress and recently a fashion designer who dabbles with devils. We are located at the docks. As for my thumbs...
..

Technically, the lock wasn't broken. Another technically would be that all I did was jab at the lock lazy with a pin and the door sprung open.  I did early state I wasn't to enthused about the whole thing, so I was doing a token effort just so I could say I tried and failed. If any one should loser their thumbs it should be the proprietor of the establishment for not securing his main portal properly. Surely you can;t punish someone for accidentally unlocking a door? How about one thumb as a compromise?


Scott tries to sweat believably.


((Yay I might live to tell the artiste that Sigmund has destroyed us all! ;P and I may not lose anything of any importance! ))

[Tomcost]

((This is getting worse for me, but, well, who cares? It's all for fun. I think that Sigmund might end spilling all the truth. A truth that definitely))

Sigmund kept talking to the guard:

-So, it seems that the guard has a lot fo different jobs to offer. From the predictable law enforcement officer, to bureaucrats and even mages. Tell, me, are things usually calm in the city? Or do you have much work?

((Yay I might live to tell the artiste that Sigmund has destroyed us all! ;P and I may not lose anything of any importance! ))

((No thumbs: amost the same effect as no hands. No grappling, no using tools))


((PS: After re-reading my posts I realize that they had a kind of bad vibe in the way they were written. That was not intentional, I'm still having fun, but I like to speculate, just that))

[Xanmyral]

[I can't see this going good anytime soon, interesting times are ahead of us gentlemen.]

~Oh, I quite don't mind at all, it's a very valid curiosity indeed as neither of us are demonologists, although I admit to reading literature on the subject. See, back when I still held my previous form a strange but quite horrible tragedy struck me; I somehow lost my livery without me noticing until later, and I'm afraid I'm not even sure how much later. It was atrocious, an utter barbarity of a malign nature, a terrible indecency most certainly.~ Morton melodramatically put, before carrying on.

~I quickly scoured for a way to perhaps avail me of this grand and peculiar embarrassment, and that was how I found a tailor who I would later become friends with. He offered me help with my problem and in doing so sent me to another dimension. It was most unexpected, I was truly expecting another set of clothes. At first I was worried about my new form, troubled that I wouldn't be able to perhaps do things as I had before, but it worked out fine in the end. As I like to say, a kind attitude and a friendly smile takes one far in this world, and makes one many friends.~ Morton thought for a moment of back when he first realized after turning into a desk that he wouldn't of been able to make tea, and how he eventually got arms again thanks to a kind toymaker.

~After coming back here, my other compatriots and friends wished to attempt the same process as I had. I had the chance to talk to the tailor, good Tailor Craig as I would later find his name to be, and got to know him and how he wound up where he was that day. He was interesting in meeting the others and it seems has joined us in our expedition, something I'm rather happy about. Trips are always more enjoyable the more friends and pleasant company one brings along with them, no?~

[Exposition ho!]

[miauw62]

Lay still, wait if anyone is coming.

[killerhellhound]

Mark starts expanding his senses and feels for the souls of the others in the prison guards and trys to commit to memory the patrol patterns and where holes in the security exist for if he has to break back in.

[Harry Baldman]

Outside a familiar-looking building...

Niklas reasons that these people look familiar because he knows them, naturally. And since most people he knows either hate him, have been wronged by him somehow or want him dead for some other reason, this can't be very good, so he just trots away, making sure he isn't seen. He then looks for a bank.

Eventually, he finds one! A rather large establishment, actually. "De Jong and Associates Bank" it's called - looks fairly reputable and wealthy. He heads right in, finding himself in an opulent lobby rich in fancy columns. It even has a fountain! Sweet!

He is immediately greeted by a refined, quite attractive young woman, who smiles at him.

"Hello, sir, and welcome to de Jong and Associates. the largest and most profitable banking enterprise of this part of the continent. I'm Olivia de Jong, how may I assist you today?"

"Need cash. 2 gold, 3 silvers."

"A loan, you mean?"

"Maybe."

"They may be able to help you at Personal Loans, I believe. It's right over there," she says, pointing to a particular door. "It's a very small loan, sir, and it is unusual for this bank to grant such a thing, but you can ask nonetheless. Will that be all?"


In the lobby of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Scott explains further, hoping to get away with at least one thumb.

"Yes, Messier Sigmund. As for associates...some horrible enchantress and recently a fashion designer who dabbles with devils. We are located at the docks. As for my thumbs... technically, the lock wasn't broken. Another technically would be that all I did was jab at the lock lazy with a pin and the door sprung open. I did earlier state I wasn't too enthused about the whole thing, so I was doing a token effort just so I could say I tried and failed. If any one should loser their thumbs it should be the proprietor of the establishment for not securing his main portal properly. Surely you can't punish someone for accidentally unlocking a door? How about one thumb as a compromise?"

Scott tries to sweat, but finds that he can't. Being a walking corpse does that to you, he guesses.

"Can't haggle with the law, buddy, at least not like that. Also, you don't really have any proof and you already confessed. Not to mention you're already getting off easy. Now, show of hands. Don't have all morning, you know!"


In the amputation room of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Sigmund, supposing he can do little but kill time, goes ahead and makes smalltalk.

"So, it seems that the guard has a lot of different jobs to offer. From the predictable law enforcement officer, to bureaucrats and even mages. Tell, me, are things usually calm in the city? Or do you have much work?"

"Oh, I have plenty of work. I took this job voluntarily, actually. They pay quite a bit for morgue-work, you know. And I get to put my butchery experience to use! All in all, pretty sweet. Mostly we respond to people making trouble, which doesn't happen quite as often as you'd think."


At a strange ship in Shriekpot...

Morton girds his panels for yet more exposition, going into depths seldom discussed these days.

~Oh, I quite don't mind at all, it's a very valid curiosity indeed, as neither of us are demonologists, although I admit to reading literature on the subject. See, back when I still held my previous form, a strange but quite horrible tragedy struck me; I somehow lost my livery without me noticing until later, and I'm afraid I'm not even sure how much later. It was atrocious, an utter barbarity of a malign nature, a terrible indecency most certainly. I quickly scoured for a way to perhaps avail me of this grand and peculiar embarrassment, and that was how I found a tailor who I would later become friends with. He offered me help with my problem and in doing so sent me to another dimension. It was most unexpected, I was truly expecting another set of clothes. At first I was worried about my new form, troubled that I wouldn't be able to perhaps do things as I had before, but it worked out fine in the end. As I like to say, a kind attitude and a friendly smile takes one far in this world, and makes one many friends.~

He pauses, reflecting on the events that both cost and returned his arms to him, and with them the ability to make tea.

~After coming back here, my other compatriots and friends wished to attempt the same process as I had. I had the chance to talk to the tailor, good Tailor Craig, as I would later find his name to be, and got to know him and how he wound up where he was that day. He was interested in meeting the others and it seems has joined us in our expedition, something I'm rather happy about. Trips are always more enjoyable the more friends and pleasant company one brings along with them, no?~

~Certainly. I do enjoy conversing with my passengers, if only on a professional level. Breaks up the monotony, you see, particularly on a longer voyage.~


In some room in the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Kevin, not quite sure what to expect, just lays still, listening for anyone coming near him. Sure enough, he hears footsteps nearby - however, they pass on by, leaving him in peace. Other than that, nobody seems to be arriving just yet.


In a jail cell...

Mark, rather bored despite the jolly beaming of the quickly rising sun, tries to extend his senses somehow. He finds that it doesn't really work - despite his soul sense acting as 360 degree vision, he can't see through walls at all. And there's no souls within immediate sight. All in all, it's pretty terrible in here.