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[Tomcost]

((I wonder if there are rolls involved in the questions from the ship, or Harry is just letting Xanmyral be))

[Harry Baldman]

On the deck of the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...

Kevin wonders if he's being the bearer of bad news right now, then realizes that any bad news that he has, he has probably already effectively conveyed through the general state of his being. So there's no real need to worry.

"Stupid guard mages or something like that. They also chopped off my hand for good measure. I saw Siggy leave with the treehead in a bag, did you guys assemble him already?"

"NOPE!"

Scott, glad that this situation has been rendered far less volatile than it could have been thanks to the power of bacon, adds his voice to the non-discussion.

Ah, yes... by the way, Master, I suggest rounding up the crew and leaving the town as soon as possible. The Guards are not too fond of Necromancy and the continued presence of undead, namely us, are grinding down their last reserves of patience, apparently. And as Kevin says, they are very violent people."

The Artiste just chews on his snack contentedly, apparently not quite moved enough to reply.


In the cargo hold of the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...

Sigmund, upon looking at the books, deems them to be far too intellectual for a probably illiterate brute like Mark. And, since Mark can offer no resistance, he can reappropriate the resources in a more rational fashion, by which he means steal Mark's stuff while he can't do a damn thing about it.

"I think that I will keep them, I don't really think that you are the reading kind of guy. I will call Erin to come and fix you once she is awake."

Mark says nothing, although he does seem to be twisting in Sigmund's direction. After briefly considering an invigorating round of "ring around the limbless schmuck" (good though the idea is, he believes you need two arms to gloat optimally, and at this point he can't really go for a half-measure), he heads out, leaving Mark to his own devices.

Within a very short period of time, he is back on deck, observing that his good buddy Kevin and that rat bastard Scott have arrived. The Artiste seems to be chewing on bacon, and the Captain looks quite chipper.


On a telepathic ship...

Morton is a veritable fountain of recollection right now. It's like there was this whole completely unexplored bit of him that just suddenly opened up like an explosive magical bolt on something that would logically have explosive magical bolts on it.

~What made her special to me?... I can't pick just one thing, I'm afraid. I could list a hundred reasons, and I would just have a hundred more to list once I was done. Just... everything. Everything about her. The way she always walked with determination and her head held high, that soft, comforting smile she always had whenever something bad happened that could warm any heart, that quiet laugh I always loved to hear every time I could, just the... just the very presence of her, just being around her made me feel like I could take on the world and go for round two without a sweat, everything seemed possible and within reach like I could of grabbed the very stars for her just to make her a necklace and see her smile. ... I only just hope that, whatever she's doing, wherever she is... that's she's happy and doesn't linger her thoughts on me. She deserves better than to worry about me.~

Oh dear. This may be getting too personal. Damn these mental monologues that are impossible to internalize.

~I... I'm sorry, this is all probably much more than you were wanting. I've just never told anyone this in my second chance. I've just kept this inside me for so long that I guess the smallest question just causes it to... tumble out, I guess.~

~Oh, it's not a problem. I ask questions and we relate in a manner of speaking. You see, I had a special person in my existence as well. She was not what one would call beautiful, really, but she had ideas, you know? Great, magnificent ideas that swept far and wide. I believe she could not even think on a level lesser than that of an entire country, or perhaps all of humanity and beyond. It was interesting to speak with her. Well, to hear her speak, at any rate. When she did, she did so with great passion and conviction, and magnificent intelligence to back it up. Her words swayed me like those of nobody else, and it is from her that I learned of the world. She treated me like a student of hers, and I was glad for even such a small honor coming from her. Truly, if one could live off transcendent love and visionary thought alone, I am convinced that it would have been me, sustained by her. Those were the very best days of my existence, and I do occasionally wonder if she thinks of me sometimes. I hope she does, and I hope she remembers me fondly. I hope that my name, as it is brought back into her recollection from a fading memory, might make her recall me, and possibly devote the tiniest of smiles to the fact that I was once in her life. That would be a validation that would carry me to the heavens and possibly beyond, yes.~


In the air above Shriekpot...

Niklas, his plan having been moved forward a few steps, tries some sick aerial maneuvers.

Emphasis on "tries", by the way. Right now, he's actually kind of falling. And gaining speed. Downwards. Hm. Maybe he could try again? He brute-forces his way through whatever haze of anti-comprehension was enslaving him, slowing down to a manageable speed. He shouldn't be hitting the ground for at least five minutes now. Hm. Sick aerial maneuvers now, maybe?

Yeah, he guesses that works. He has some fun with his magical power, flying through the air at great speeds as he enjoys his magical chairdom to its utmost potential. Torkel squeals with delight as his father flips and twists dynamically in the sky. He does this for a good half hour or so, then decides (after a brief reminder from Helsvar) that perhaps he should not spoil either himself or his offspring and lands quickly.

And by quickly, it is meant that he lands slowly. Not slowly enough for a tortured creak not to emanate from his body, but slow enough that there is not a loud crack or anything. All in all, a good test flight, if a tad unpredictable.

[Tomcost]

Sigmund came closer to the group of people and adressed Scott, in a serious and pissed off way:

-I had to claim that I had planned most of the things so that the guards didn't came here looking for our master. Do you realize that if something happens to him, we will be tied forever to his will, you short-minded bastard? Fortunately, the guards were instructed in how binding works, so they didn't believe you.-He sighs, then speaks in a calmer tone- You could have just accepted the punishment, you had already lost arms before, it wouldn't have been something so terrible to endure. By the way, they have diviners working for them, so there was no point in lying.

Having spat out that, he asked to the general group:

-Do any of you have some money so that we can take Mark to a blacksmith, so that he can be fixed?

[Xantalos]

Niklas punched the air in exhilaration.

Nice flying! Now then, lets go get those chairs and find our erstwhile companions.

Go to the chair shop, wait there until chairs are finished assembling.

[Innsmothe]

Scott will fetch the master some weak beer, to quench his thirst and hopefully act as a hair of the dog remedy.

[Xanmyral]

[@Tom: I wouldn't see what rolls would be made. Well, I am going to assume that I rolled a one on geography though, twice hilariously enough. I can't really say I can pick out any other rolls, if there are any.

@Miauw: Ah, I'm admittedly not used to compliments. Throws me for a loop.]

~Then you understand. She sounds like a truly wonderful person, a very important person if she's resonated with you so. It's always important in life to find that kind of person for one's self, it always... Puts things in perspective I believe. How did you meet her, if you don't mind saying?~ Morton can't help but wonder, is this what the Captain was talking about? ...Morton listens, really listens, focusing on the ship and what it's saying. One must find the right opportunity, and this can't be anything but.

[Spinal_Taper]

A grin? Doesn't seem like a good sign. Granted, he's always grinning, but still. I'm going to back up a bit. A long bit.
"Uh... I'll be back, alright? Stay here, please?"
Where would he have to go, anyway?
Head all the way back up to the girl and her relics. Ask/beg/plead for help.

[Harry Baldman]

On the deck of the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...

Sigmund informs the people present of his noble, Scott-assisted sacrifice, mostly by being aggressive toward the thoroughly offensive scallywag.

"I had to claim that I had planned most of the things so that the guards didn't come here looking for our master. Do you realize that if something happens to him, we will be tied forever to his will, you short-minded bastard? Fortunately, the guards were instructed in how binding works, so they didn't believe you. You could have just accepted the punishment, you had already lost arms before, it wouldn't have been something so terrible to endure. By the way, they have diviners working for them, so there was no point in lying."

The Artiste gives one halfhearted thumb up as he keeps on eating. Sigmund isn't quite sure what that might mean.

"Do any of you have some money so that we can take Mark to a blacksmith, so that he can be fixed?"

The Captain shakes his head, the Artiste doesn't seem very cooperative, Kevin doesn't move an inch and Scott just makes a run for it, heading off the ship.

If you'd ask Scott, though, he would say that he isn't running away. In fact, he'd say he's helping! After all, how better to solve his master's booze-related problem than to give him more booze? With this in mind, Scott heads back to the Feisty Jelly, finding that there still aren't a lot of patrons up at the moment.

"You again! What can I do for ya?"

"Gimme some beer! It's a matter of life and death!"

"What, aren't ya having fun with the Special?" the barkeep asks, grinning.


In the streets of Shriekpot...

Niklas, having had enough aerial adventure for now, heads back inside the furniture shop.

Rather strangely, he finds his chairs - all seven of them - waiting for him! Two chairs in heavy, intimidating steel, spiked and sleek beyond measure. Most exquisite, Niklas must say.

"Your chairs are ready, sir," the man says to him plainly, indicating the chairs with the palm of his hand as he takes a step away from the finished product.


On a telepathic ship...

Morton, having inadvertently turned the tables on this conversation, pursues his own line of questioning.

~Then you understand. She sounds like a truly wonderful person, a very important person if she's resonated with you so. It's always important in life to find that kind of person for one's self, it always... puts things in perspective I believe. How did you meet her, if you don't mind saying?~

~She spoke and I listened. Her voice carried over the wind, her thoughts resonating through all they touched. We met in Hensenport, in the spring. It was quite the spring, I must say. Never seen any like it before or since, though that may be just because of certain events, yes. We always remember things that are the most special to us, and they take on a quasi-mythical life of their own, the impression growing the further away we are from it in space and time.~


At the engineers' gate of the City of the Dead...

Darren doesn't feel like this gibbon wishes him all the best in unlife, so he opts for a tactical retreat instead of speaking much longer.

"Uh... I'll be back, alright? Stay here, please?"

The gibbon nods, waving to Darren as he leaves. Darren, somewhat fearful of reprisal, waves back unsteadily as he rushes through the streets. He floats through solid buildings, walls and other things as he tries not to encounter anything particularly terrible - luckily, nobody seems to be paying attention to him. He returns to the Tomb of Everything, floating up to the store as quickly as he is able.

Sadly, though, she isn't in there. Darren is quite disappointed, he must say, though he didn't expect it to be nightfall just yet. He must have been down in the city for quite a while.

[Xantalos]

My thanks.

Integrate the chairs into myself, making the awesome spiked chairs my 'hands'.

((Badass achieved. Now to get money to pay back my loan.))

[Tomcost]

Sigmund shrugged and spoke to Kevin:

-Well, do you want to come with me to beg for some money? You know, maybe we can use people's pity in or favor.

((The bloody adventures of Niklas, the Chef chairman have begun!))

[Xantalos]

((Hey, maybe I can rob a bookstore to get the money. /temptingfate))

[Tomcost]

((A bookstore that probably has those mages protecting it. Anyway, you are officially the most powerful character in the game))

[Innsmothe]

"The specials the problem, they enjoyed it too much."

[Xantalos]

((A bookstore that probably has those mages protecting it. Anyway, you are officially the most powerful character in the game))

((Physically, at least. Magically's a different story. Plus I have to pay back that loan, otherwise they'll obliterate me using that fragment of me they got.))

[Tomcost]

((Yep. Luckilly, you asked for a small loan.))