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[Harry Baldman]

In the streets of Shriekpot...

Niklas, realizing that he needs cash and he needs it fast, goes up to the people gawking.

"Excuse me, would you people happen to know where an enterprising person would be able to get some money?"

"Um... I'm not entirely sure... are you good at anything?"


In the Feisty Jelly...

Scott, approaching a fine agreement, finalizes his demands.

"A couple of pints, to go of course."

"No such thing as a pint to go, buddy. If you want to go out with a pint, bring yer own damn tankard, or pay extra for the one you steal. One copper for a pint in the first case, three in the last."


On a telepathic ship...

Morton concurs with the ship politely.

~Indeed, and I'll certainly be keeping my ears open, figuratively due to physical reasons, for her name. Tell me, do you know where she might be or what she might be doing? Do you think she's out there changing the world as we speak? I can only imagine she must be from what you've told me.~

~I can also only wonder about that. Tell me, what do you think Ruth would be doing right now?~


In the Tomb of Everything...

Darren wonders if he should start going.

"Guess I have to start going eventually."

But should he really be going?

Nah. Instead, he'll prep some magic tricks. He's got a pretty good one with his kerchiefs that he's been itching to try. It is pleasantly distracting, serving to drag him away from the siren song of doing something productive that's been tingling in the back of his head for a while now.


In the cargo hold of the shrieking ship...

Sigmund, after narrating his thoughts of plunder to Mark, picks up all the books and divining equipment from his helpless ally and heads on to the den, where he deposits all of his new loot just in case somebody had the brilliant thought of stealing it all from him again. His supplies stocked, he walks back topside to find the Artiste finishing a meal. Ah, perfect.

"Master, I know that we have been a failure, but Mark has got his limbs severed, and I need money to take him to a blacksmith to be fixed."

The Artiste looks at him cautiously.

"Hm... well, I have to help my good buddy Mark. It would be simply terrible not to, with how he's stuck with me for this time. How much money do you need? And why can't you ask Erin to do it instead?"

Suddenly, Kevin pops into the conversation with a non-sequitur.

"How about the Second Shank?"

Sigmund isn't quite sure what that means.

"Could work, unless somebody minds."

"The SECOND SHANK! Not BAD! Better than what I WOULD HAVE suggested!"

[Xantalos]

Well...

Niklas lists off all the skills he possesses as an undead zombie chair Viking chef, including chopping, smashing, roaring, creaking, punching, frying, dicing, belching, flyting, singing, flying, crushing, stomping, and cooking.

[Innsmothe]

Scott will hand over a worth of nine coppers, for four tankards and go over tot the ship to give them to his master.

[Tomcost]

Sigmund replied to the Artiste:

-I think that it won't cost more that a single gold coin, master. And, well, I think that Erin is still asleep, and she already made some mistakes when trying to fix Niklas when she had just woken up.

[Spinal_Taper]

Check how long the trick preparation took. If it's day, go and see the Tomb and its caretaker. If not, head down to the catacombs, ask the guard if he was serious with letting us in. If he was, wish him well, then head on in.

[killerhellhound]

((Listing time why The Artiste should help me (reason for existence I'm bored)
I make a guy screw up and let him into the world
got him a bunch of servants and minions
keapt said minions in good shape and alive
plus I stuck with him for all this time when I could have just wondered off.))

[Xantalos]

((...Parts of me wish I was back, but bigger and saner parts have clapped the other parts in irons and imprisoned them for all eternity. I think that's a good thing.))

((Trust me, becoming the Chairman wasn't easy. It involved:
-Walking into a random old guy's house while still a zombie, getting correctly idntified as a viking, doused in oil, lit on fire, and shot multiple times with arrows, twice in the spine.
-I then dove into the harbor, paralyzed from the waist down and carrying about 150 pounds of cleavers and meat hooks, thus sinking down to the bottom of the harbor. I was then attacked by a giant fish who bit my legs off.
-Mark speared me through the chest with a harpoon and hauled me back up, and I went over to Erin to get fixed. However, this was the middle of the night, so Erin accidentally turned me into a head.
-Mark then put my head on a catfish, and Niklas temporarily went insane from weapon loss, attempting to, among other things, molest a desk and singing most disturbingly, as well as making quite detailed plans to make Erin into a soup, travel back in time, and feed Erinsoup to her.
-After my inability to go up stairs became apparent (at this stage I was a head on a catfish), Sigmund carried me up to the Artiste, who I was rude to, and he promptly had me turned into a chair by Erin. I was then done stuff to while I contemplated stuff and tried to figure out what to do (I had no sensory perceptions due to being a chair).
-At this point I started hearing voices in my head - my son Torkel and my old time sweetheart Helsvar, who I promptly made up a backstory for explaining Niklas' hatred of the ninjas. Also vikings in this world have hilariously long names.
-I asked Helsvar to call up an old shaman friend of mine, who I promptly asked to teach me how to gain control of my form so I could turn back into a viking. After a long time attempting to get into the right mindset, which at one point involved invoking the mental state of a cleaver, I somehow attained chair magic. It took me a while to realize this, as all I felt first was a connection to the chairs around me. I eventually used them to form my own body, and after a few transmutation rolls in which I gained eyes, hearing, and a strangely musical voice, I went off to rob a bookstore with Sigmund, Kevin, and others. I kicked ass there, killing at least 2 guards there through Harry's patented use of the Chair Cannonball technique and punching another man in half. Harry was controlling me for the fight and such. Then I absconded just before everyone else got arrested, got a loan, and got myself some badass spiked chairs. Also I can fly due to being made of chairs and being able to control chairs.
And there I am.))

[miauw62]

((I'd say you've killed at least 7 guards. ))
"For once I'd be okay with Mark operating on me, but you'll have to put him back together first."
Check if demonic tissue regenerates somehow.

[killerhellhound]

((I'd say you've killed at least 7 guards. ))
"For once I'd be okay with Mark operating on me, but you'll have to put him back together first."
Check if demonic tissue regenerates somehow.

((Whats the problem?))

[Tomcost]

((I'd say you've killed at least 7 guards. ))
"For once I'd be okay with Mark operating on me, but you'll have to put him back together first."
Check if demonic tissue regenerates somehow.

((Whats the problem?))

((I don't know, maybe you having godly overshoots?

[Xanmyral]

Morton pondered on the subject of the ship's question, however he tried to hide a tinge of sadness the thought carried in him. ~I've thought about this subject much, to be honest. Sometimes I think that perhaps she's moved on, and is living with someone else who can make her as happy as I did, maybe more even. Other times I see her as a great actress in a theater, making the crowds 'ooh' and 'aww' at her displays and farces. She always told me how much she liked to watch those grand dramas and comedies. She always preferred the latter though, saying that the dramas were too serious, too depressing for her tastes. Whatever she's doing, I only want her to be happy doing.~

Morton was silent, remembering a time back in Camellia. Ruth was there on a patch of smoothed ground, her stage, and Morton watching from a chair along with a few of their friends, her audience. Then they were sitting under a weeping tree, its branches bent offering shade to any who would grant it company. Ruth would be excitedly talking about her next idea, or a play she had heard of, or one that they've seen, pacing from the very vibrant energy such ideas gave her as Carter sat leaning against the tree listening with rapt attention to her every word.

[Harry Baldman]

In the streets of Shriekpot...

Niklas, having finally been asked the question he has been waiting for, rattles off a list of positively wonderful things he can do.

"My noble skillset includes chopping, smashing, roaring, creaking, punching, frying, dicing, belching, flyting, singing, flying, crushing, stomping, and cooking! And possibly several others that I do not speak of in the society of weaker men!"

"Erm... have you thought of being... a bouncer, maybe?"


In the Feisty Jelly...

Scott hands over nine coppers, obtaining three tankards of very poor ale and heading out of the tavern, making his way back to the ship. He deposits the three tankards on the ground near the Artiste.

"These are for you. Hair of the dog and all that."

The Artiste looks at the tankards, then at Scott.

"What? Don't be stupid. It's morning! There's a whole day ahead of me, you git! What good is drinking going to do me? Take these away right now, the smell makes me want to blow chunks!"

He seems quite displeased for some reason. With this in mind, Sigmund approaches his master next, with a slightly greater amount of caution.

"I think that it won't cost more that a single gold coin, master. And, well, I think that Erin is still asleep, and she already made some mistakes when trying to fix Niklas when she had just woken up."

"Why don't you go find a blacksmith, ask said blacksmith what they would charge for such a service, then come back here and ask me for that amount of money so I don't have to bother with purely unfounded speculations? I think that would be good, yes? Or perhaps just have our fair tailor chuck him into a portal and be done with it, yes? That would also be good, no?"

My, he sure is irritable.

"For once I'd be okay with Mark operating on me, but you'll have to put him back together first," Kevin unhelpfully offers. He then looks at his own limbs. He doesn't see any signs of his flesh regenerating - it is just as broken right now as it was a few hours ago. A pity. Being regenerative would have been so wonderful.


In the Tomb of Everything...

Darren looks around. Despite the passing of twenty minutes, it is still night.

Clearly, it is hopeless. He heads back into the catacombs, making his way through the city until he reaches the gibbon at the gate.

"Were you serious about letting me in?"

The gibbon shrugs, wondering what exactly Darren might mean.


On a telepathic ship...

Morton hypothesizes about his former wife's fate sentimentally.

~I've thought about this subject much, to be honest. Sometimes I think that perhaps she's moved on, and is living with someone else who can make her as happy as I did, maybe more even. Other times I see her as a great actress in a theater, making the crowds 'ooh' and 'aww' at her displays and farces. She always told me how much she liked to watch those grand dramas and comedies. She always preferred the latter though, saying that the dramas were too serious, too depressing for her tastes. Whatever she's doing, I only want her to be happy doing.~

~We can only wonder and hope for the best, then.~

At this point, Art laughs, turning to Morton.

"This was pretty fun. You ready to go? I think somebody on the ship should be up already."

[Xantalos]

Niklas considers this.
Then he realizes something: people hate people! But people are cowards so they don't kill people. Therefore he could get monwey by being a killer guy!
Or maybe he could be a guard.
Two things: Do you need anyone killed?
Are the town guards recruiting?

The choice between mercenary and police officer must be made.

[Xanmyral]

~Indeed. It was a grand time talking to you captain and I greatly appreciate it, I wish you well on your travels and that you may meet her again one day.~ Morton said his goodbyes while he looked towards Art. "It was indeed quite good fun, I'm ready whenever you are. Although I do wish to check on a bookstore before we head back, the others hadn't returned when we left. I'm rather hoping nothing bad happened to them." Morton left out the implied 'again.'

[Innsmothe]

"Sir, I am only trying to help! I just bought the booze, I wasn't the one who told you to drink it like water after crossing a desert of one thousand miles! Drinking this stuff will not only allow you to stay hydrated, but will take steps to lessening the clanging about in your head."