On the deck of the Second Shank...Kevin waits a moment for
Sigmund to return, at which point he tries to piggyback on him.
"Here I come!"He rolls up to Sigmund, then tries to get a ride.
[Sigmund's strength roll: 4-
1]
It's a bit difficult to carry the guy, considering that Sigmund isn't in the best of shapes presently and that Kevin is deceptively heavy for somebody his size. Sigmund can only manage to stumble around in a fairly slow fashion, not to mention that Kevin also only has one hand, which renders his ability to cling on to Sigmund effectively dubious at best.
Scott, meanwhile, is a bit peeved at the dismissive way he is being treated.
"... Fine, if that is your will... master."He then assumes a disgruntled and slovenly (well, more disgruntled and slovenly than usual) look, pouring the ale out into the sea, then going to find some water. Fortunately, he finds a well easily, filling the tankards with some water from that, making sure to spill a whole lot and not care about it in the process. He grumbles as he walks back to the ship, his back hunched and his gait asymmetrical and deeply evocative of unemployed louts the world over. He hands the water to the Artiste, who smells it, then has a drink.
"Say, this water's quite good. Reasonably good work, Scott."Scott is still disgruntled, though, and manages but a "hmph" in response.
"Perhaps someone would like to go and ask Mark if he would like to take a trip through the fabulous dimension? It would be faster and more efficient than the blacksmith, not to mention cheaper."At Brenwicke's Books...Morton wobbles over to the bookstore, eager to get to the bottom of this. He addresses a nearby woman.
"Excuse me, dear madam, could you perhaps inform a wayward desk as to what has transpired here? Quite the crowd has gathered around, is there a good sale, perhaps?"The woman turns to him, then jumps back in surprise.
"Oh my, you are a desk! How is it that you speak?"Noticing the woman's surprise, Art tries to smooth things over.
"It's best not to ask these things, ma'am. The answers will raise only more questions. Now, what's with the rubbernecking?""Well, um... something alarming has happened, I know that much. I can't quite see what, but it is apparently quite grisly and smells quite awful. Clearly... um... nothing good and all that. I'm waiting for my turn to see.""Very interesting. So, no other information, then?""Uh... not yet, no... but still, how is it that the desk speaks?""His name's Morton, and you'd better ask him if you really want to know."The woman shrinks back a little from embarrassment, turning to Morton once again.
"Um... sorry. How is it that you speak, uh... Mr. Morton?"In the streets of Shriekpot...Having met only cowardice in response to his offer,
Niklas heads over to the guard headquarters, hoping to obtain a paycheck of some sort from them. He finds the building easily, approaching it and going past the guards, who seem a bit put off by his presence. He walks up to an old guy standing at a desk inside of the building.
"I may be interested in joining the guards. How soon would I get paid if I did?"The man at the desk looks to him unaffectedly.
"Ah, it's you. We may be able to help you. I cannot immediately say how soon you would get paid and how much, unfortunately. I am required to check with the payment office. If you wait here, though, I can find out in a few moments."