At Gunther Gunnarson's workshop...
Sigmund, Scott and Kevin, upon the former realizing that this is taking too much time, confer with each other (well, not with Scott, of course, but that much makes sense), and all decide to get back to the ship, arriving rather quickly on the spot. Sigmund immediately realizes he needs to see the mages, and takes an inventory of the mages available.
Firstly, there's the Artiste. He's right on deck, fortunately, looking out into the city contentedly and probably nursing a mild headache. He finds Evelyn to be still asleep despite the fact that it's well past noon already. Erin is similarly asleep, though she seems a bit more restless. Tailor Craig seems to be busy vandalizing his room with a vast number of diagrams and circles, making sure no spot is left uncovered, and the Captain seems to be floating about and whistling. Art is nowhere to be seen.
In the company of an extreme nihilist...
Morton tries to be polite to the abrasive disbeliever man.
"It works on magic of some kind, I assume. We don't rightly know beyond that it works in some fashion, the development was recent so we haven't time to figure it out. If you could, could you please use an inside voice sir? I mean no offense, but I don't believe yelling is necessary when we're only paces away."
The man quiets down just the tiniest bit.
"But 'magic' doesn't answer a thing, does it? What is magic? How does it work? Where does it come from? Is it divine, or a property of the universe itself? Why does it exist?"
"It's more of a force, really, and-"
"Do either of you have a brain? A physical brain, I mean? It doesn't seem like it - I can see through one of you, and observe nothing of the sort. How do you think?"
"Through the soul, naturally."
"And what's the soul? Where does that come from? And what purpose does it serve?"
Art pauses, looking thoughtfully at the man. In the momentary lapse of conversation, Morton wonders about the Demon of Difficult Questions. He thinks he did see a verbal portal in the Handbook of Demonic Conduct for the fellow, yes. Perhaps this man would be interested in it.
In a senseless void...
Niklas answers Helsvar's question, having little else to do.
"Trying to find a body to house my soul in, my sweet."
"Oh, don't leave this body, my love! I couldn't bear the thought of your soul departing for the next life!"
Hm. Maybe Niklas can still sense... nah, no, he can't.
In the engineers' quarter of the City of the Dead...
Darren, hoping he's at least safer than he was a moment ago, looks at his arm. It's not a pretty sight. Strips of flesh - or whatever Darren has for flesh, anyway - have been flayed right off, leaving large patches where he can see exposed ectoplasmic muscle. He thinks he can even see a patch of bone underneath, though it's a bit ethereal, so it's difficult to tell.
In fact, it's a tad scary that it doesn't actually hurt or anything, aside from the initial sensation of peeling and having chunks split off from his body. Thinking about it for a moment, Darren looks around. He seems to be in a rather clean-looking cul-de-sac currently, in the middle of a nearly complete circle of odd, shifting metallic structures of varying complexity and unknown purpose.
Suddenly, Darren becomes aware of a plate on the ground next to him rising upwards, protruding from the artificially roughened surface of the street. From this protrusion two long metal arms emerge, each fashioned in what would be a likeness of the human arm were it not for two things - each hand has two thumbs, on opposite sides of the palm, and one hand has a mouth on the palm while the other has a triplet of what look like eyes. The mouth-hand moves closer to him, beginning to speak in a pleasant, soft male voice, and the eye-hand moves in a circle around Darren, appraising him from several angles before settling next to the mouth-hand.
"Why, hello, good sir. Might I ask why you grace us with your presence?"
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 561926 times)