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[Harry Baldman]

On the Second Shank...

Sigmund attempts to cast another spell - he hopes it'll work nicely this time as well, or he'll be very sad indeed.

[Sigmund's magic roll: 4]

He concentrates upon making air stop flowing all around him - as a result, something happens, but air definitely doesn't stop flowing entirely. It's quite difficult to tell what exactly happens, but there is a ripple in the air that he can see, and the air gets kind of weird somehow. He also notices the bloody, horrid smell coming from the corpses. He should get on that, by the way.

One of the fellows - the younger one - has a coin purse. It has a gold coin in it and two silvers as well, plus a very nice-looking amulet. Doesn't seem magical or anything, but reasonably expensive, anyway. He places both in his coat pocket along with the weird flask he looted earlier. The older one has only some kind of wooden case on him - it has a latch on it to keep it closed, and Sigmund's eyes are drawn to the varying patterns on its surface, which seem to be composed of highly detailed, articulate parts. Very fine workmanship. Probably something important inside of it.

Slightly higher up, Kevin asks some follow-up questions of Justine, who is visibly peeved by the way the jester is currently lugging around an asphyxiated corpse.

"Can you tell me WHERE he is dead?"

"Not too far, I suppose? Near where you left him. And do you all really have to drag corpses around wherever you go?"

Kevin is tempted to shrug, really.

A few steps away, Mark explains his side quest to the Artiste. Using the vast amounts of fish blood available, he writes out that he needs sixty souls sacrificed because he wanted to get out of a bottomless pit.

"Ah, one of those things. Oh well, carry on."

As Mark gets back to his fishing, the Artiste is pestered by Scott, who has prepared some wonderful tea. He edges close to his master and offers a cup.

"Aha! Thank you, Scott," he says, accepting the tea and taking a large sip from it. He immediately grimaces.

"There's a lot of honey in this, isn't there? That's... quite unfortunate. I believe I'm a bit allergic to that," he says, giving the cup back. "Nothing very life-threatening or anything, just very unpleasant. I suppose I'm about to find out what an allergic reaction actually feels like, at any rate."

He promptly sneezes, looking somewhat pained.

"Tea was a bit too strong, must say. And obviously there was too much honey in it. Not that I blame you, of course. I didn't even know it would be a relevant thing," the Artiste explains.

Mark, meanwhile, has gotten to fishing. Absolutely nothing is catching, though. When he pulls out the harpoon, he notices all the blood's been licked clean off it.

Morton, having accomplished his primary objective, takes up the task of cleaning up all this blood.

[Cleaning roll: 6]

He grabs the mop and gets to work - soon enough, the deck shines brightly as every inch of it has been lovingly swabbed by the butler, who has, as the butler of a deranged necrophiliac necromancer, has dealt with far nastier messes in his unlife. He hopes that he won't have to clean the blood off the deck too often. He also hopes that Kevin will soon remove his newly-dead friend from deck soon - it disturbs Morton and presumably others to gaze into the cadaver's dead, bulging eyes and rather unfortunate facial expression that comes with being somebody who's been slowly choked to death.


In the streets of Shriekpot...

Niklas hopes to avoid any unfortunate situations here, so he just moves along incredulously.

"Why are you in this house too!"

"Don't pretend you don't know, you four-legged son of a whore!"

Well, he's not in the mood for talking, obviously, so Niklas just runs across the street, hoping for help with this issue. However, just as he approaches the door to this new house, the door flies open and the same guy runs out of it straight at him!

"When will this end?" the man screams, almost frothing at the mouth as he leaps at Niklas from the door.

[Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 1+1 vs. 3]

Niklas merely ducks down, thanking his hinged legs silently for a moment, letting the guy fly over him and roll away curled up in a ball of pure hatred. The man then gets up, still looking mighty displeased.

"I sense that something is very wrong here!"

"How does the funny man do that? Be at different places at once? And why is he so angry?"

[Tomcost]

((Niklas has a talent to get into these kind of situations))

Examine the ripple. Get near to feel it if necessary.

[Xantalos]

((Wat))

Run up to him and perform a spinning headbutt to the groin to pacify him!
Then inquire as to how he's in all these different houses at once.
If he starts to beat me at combat, run away like a little wussy.

[Xanmyral]

[I think you've become an instrument in some poor man's purgatory. Or vice versa. Or both. I got my money on the last, personally.]

"Well, that's one to check off the metaphorical list." Morton said to no one in particular, setting aside the mop and bucket for future use, and while he was at it set the large tea pot made by Erin in the kitchen.

Implements put away for future use, the desk offered Scott some help. Who knows, perhaps by the commonality of tea and a helping hand, the butler may sway his fellow second chancer away from a dark course. One must always be optimistic, after all.

"Sir Scott, would you perhaps like assistance with your tea-making attempt? I'd be more than willing to render what possible critique I could."

[Innsmothe]

Scott will look crestfallen.
"They...The-ey..."
Scot will then turn and begin planning on how to move violently flammable material or liquids into the hold of the ship he purloined the honey from, for enticing him with a substance they must have known would have harmed his master. First he'll have to find something that can't be extinguished very easily and burns at a high heat...like pork fat or naphtha

[miauw62]

((This is hilarious.))
"I'll go and search for Niklas, then."
Chuck the body into the cargo hold and head back to where I last saw Niklas.

[Harry Baldman]

In the cargo hold of the Second Shank...

Sigmund, eager to find out what all this nonsense is about, looks at the ripple. However, before he can obtain much information about it, it fades away. Seems like it was a result of the spell, but he can't really say what exactly it might have been.

After spending a moment looking at the empty patch of air in front of him, Sigmund notices that something's changed in the room - a new corpse! That's wonderful!


In the streets of Shriekpot...

Before things can get downright brutal here, Niklas opts to pacify the man the only way he knows how - groin attacks!

[Niklas vs. Chair-Hater: 1-1 vs. 5]

However, his attempts at theatrics prove to be his undoing, as his leaping and spinning is interrupted by the man catching him mid-air. He seems to not be pacified at all by the move, unfortunately.

[Counterattack: Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 5+1 vs. 4]
[Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 5+1 vs. 5]

The man starts to pull and twist at Niklas' various bits, obviously trying to remove and dislocate parts of him - he makes disturbing amounts of headway in that regard, but does not manage to significantly damage the chair. Still, the attack is sufficient indication to Niklas that he should probably cheese it very soon, and so he attempts to beat a courageous retreat from this otherworldly adversary.

[Escape attempt: Niklas vs. Chair-Hater: 3 vs. 4+1]

But though he may try to wiggle and shimmy and thrash to the best of his ability, the chair-hating individual is unfettered by any of it - he simply continues his disfigurement attempts.

[Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 6+1 vs. 6]

Though Niklas' steel frame is highly durable, the man's efforts seem sufficient to keep bending it - this is obviously getting uglier by the second.

"Can't escape me, can you? And I can't escape you! I can only keep hurting you until something snaps!"

[Chair-Hater's dodge roll: 1-1+1]

Suddenly, there is a crashing sound as a chair flies out of a nearby tavern, flung by an angry drunk, no doubt, and hits the chair-hating individual straight in the back of the head.

[Chair-Hater's endurance roll: 5]

The wooden chair bounces off his head, leaving him slightly angrier, but still highly mobile and violent, it seems. The chair seems to have visibly cracked, and one of its legs appears to have snapped against the man's torso.

"Gah! I hate this! I hate everything! Especially you!" he yells, directing that last remark at Niklas and continuing his attempts to take him apart.


On the deck of the Second Shank...

Morton, satisfied with his work, puts away the mop and bucket, then quickly pops off to the kitchen and sets Erin's pot in an inconspicuous, easily accessible spot. With that done, he heads back to the deck, where he notices Scott, who is definitely not in a happy place right now.

"Sir Scott, would you perhaps like assistance with your tea-making attempt? I'd be more than willing to render what possible critique I could."

Scott doesn't appear to be having any of that, though. In fact, he looks downright disastrously crestfallen right now.

"They... The-ey..."

He doesn't even seem to have properly heard Morton, or at least doesn't make any indication that he has, and simply leaves the ship, looking for something. He stops at a particular barrel on a nearby pier, opening it and gazing at its contents in a nefarious way. The barrel in question appears to filled with interesting-looking grease.

Meanwhile, Kevin decides he'll do what needs to be done.

"I'll go and search for Niklas, then."

He also decides to ditch the corpse - he knows Sigmund will enjoy the company. The jester then hits the streets again, heading over to the alley where he recently strangled a man. He carefully looks around, and realizes he doesn't see anything in particular from here. He does hear a distant noise, though. Kinda like a tavern.

[Tomcost]

((What on Earth is happening with Niklas there? That is odd, really odd))

((Ok, time for some inventory management))

Loot the new corpse ((Why do you guys always forget the most important part of a battle?))

Open the lid of the flask with the black thing and smell it to determine what it is

Try to open the wooden case and determine what is inside of it

[killerhellhound]

((because we want the bodys not what's on them))

Also keep fishing and doing unholy rituals

[Innsmothe]

Test the greases flammability by lighting an isolated puddle on a non-flammable floor.

[miauw62]

Investigate the sound.

[Xantalos]

Countergrapple somehow! Try to break his arms!

[Xanmyral]

"Hm." The desk isn't quite sure what to make of Scott leaving like that. He looked particularly depressed. Hopefully he doesn't get into any trouble.

Seeing as most people are leaving, Morton decides to go seek out Art. There's been something he wanted to ask him but things kind of got jumbled what with Niklas being a molten pile of slag. The desk walks--although some might call it trundling--to the Artiste-Erin-Justine wombo combo. "Excuse me, have either of you perhaps seen good mage Art?"

[Harry Baldman]

In the cargo hold of the Second Shank...

Sigmund quickly moves to loot the new arrival, the strangled one - oddly, he has nothing on him apart from some kind of metallic snake sculpture. It has a small, inconspicuous button on its head, and looks rather well-made. He pockets it for now, as this is assuredly something quite interesting for some street knave to carry around. Having accomplished the looting, Sigmund then turns his attention to the flask he got earlier. Opening it up, he smells the contents - they smell kind of like flowers, but there is an underlying aroma to them as well, making the whole thing smell pretty interesting. Hm. He plugs the flask back up and puts it away, turning his attention to the box. It is not unreasonable to suppose there is treasure within - after all, what else would you keep in a box like that?

He undoes the latch and opens the box, and sees that it has little space within it - less than one would suspect, to be honest. Maybe it has a false bottom? Sigmund considers this for a moment, but his thoughts are interrupted by a flash of white and a loud bang accompanied by a rain of mixed wooden and metal shrapnel, all of which is centered in his hands.

[Sigmund's endurance roll: 5]

Sigmund is blasted backwards, landing on his back, becoming acutely aware of the large amount of box fragments his face and torso have absorbed. Right now, his hands feel more than a bit odd - his fingers are bending in odd directions, and more than a minor amount of flesh has been blasted away. All in all, he does not feel good right now!

"What in gods' names was that? Siggy, what happened to you?" comes the voice of Art from the cargo hold entrance.

"It sounded like a RATHER NASTY EXPLOSION, yes? But WHAT could have CAUSED IT?"

"I hope he is alright. He looks quite injured, but it is always hard to tell with the undead, really."

Oh, sure, blow yourself up by accident and suddenly everybody's real interested in your fate, huh?


On the deck of the Second Shank...

Mark, not one to give up easily, keeps trying to catch more sea life to sacrifice to his vile benefactors. Try as he might, however, it seems nobody wants to bite onto his harpoon for some reason. Guess fish don't like the taste of cold steel or something.

Morton, who happens to be nearby, has currently accomplished his important business and, having determined that his former master is entirely beyond help, goes about the accomplishment of something that he hasn't got around to yet - the questioning of Art. But to do that, he needs to find out where the man is. He trundles over to the Artiste, who currently seems to be busy sneezing, and directs a question toward him and his friends.

"Excuse me, have either of you perhaps seen good mage Art?"

"Not really?" the Artiste answers. His eyes seem to be watering.

"He's prolly below decks. Can't see how he'd wander off too far, really," Erin explains, sipping tea while sitting on a barrel.

Suddenly, a loud boom issues from below decks, much to the chagrin of Mark, who knows that this means that the fish have been thoroughly spooked, and much to the surprise of the other people on deck.

"The heck was that?"

"Sigmund activated a small magical explosive device in the cargo hold. He's somewhat alright, though none too pleased, and doesn't require immediate aid or anything. The cargo hold itself is undamaged - the explosive was aimed more at maiming people than destroying property. There may be jagged fragments of metal and wood lying about in the hold now, however, so be careful not to stroll there barefoot."

"Uh... good to know?"

"I live to serve and all that. Can we get moving already? I am getting dangerously bored."

"As am I, Justine. As am I."


At the docks of Shriekpot...

Scott, unaware of any explosions back on the ship, tests the flammability of the grease, splashing a little puddle of it on the nearby cobblestones, then trying to light it.

[Fire safety roll: 2]

The puddle lights up wonderfully! So does Scott's hand, which has grease on it. This results in it smelling even more awful than it used to - quite the accomplishment, really. This leaves Scott with the question - how is he going to extinguish it?


In the streets of Shriekpot...

Kevin, hoping that the source of the noise is somehow related to his danger-prone chef companion, heads in its direction. After a bit of walking, he notices that the noise is coming from a small, dinghy tavern evidently called the Webbed Toe, which seems to be currently hosting a friendly bar brawl. Maybe his quarry is inside? Seems like a place he'd frequent.

A small distance away, Niklas is locked into a battle. He attempts to reverse his position and break the miserable chair-hating bastard's arms. It's the least he can do, right?

[Reversal attempt: Niklas vs. Chair-Hater: 2 vs. 6+1]

It is of no use, however. The chair-hater holds him tight, offering no wiggle room whatsoever. In fact, whenever Niklas tries to struggle, the man just twists and holds him with that much more intense hatred.

[Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 6+1 vs. 4]

The man screams incoherently as he puts a quite painful amount of effort into twisting off one of Niklas' chair legs, removing it from its hinge and hurling it away. Despite this victory, the man is clearly not pleased yet. Actually, the horrible pain trying and succeeding at bending steel causes him seems to only egg him on further.

Niklas, meanwhile, suddenly notices a chair behind the man. It's a plain little thing, looking a little out of place in the middle of the street.

[Xantalos]

Attempt to take control of the chair! If successful, have it fly up onto the man's head and break his neck by catching his neck inbetween 2 legs and twisting. If not successful, attempt again to reverse the grip while pointing out the chair to the guy.

((Oh dear.))