On the deck of the Second Shank...Morton, after spending a moment considering whether the Artiste's current condition warrants a special sort of tea, decides that it probably does and trundles over to the man to ask if he, by any chance, isn't allergic to anything else.
"Good Master Artiste, are you perhaps allergic to anything else? I believe I can perhaps brew you a tea to help fight your suffering, nature's natural remedies tend to work wonders, I've found."The Artiste, whose eyes seem to be watering a little, scratches his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, I think I'm allergic to other things as well. Like mint, for instance. Pollen, I think. A whole host of herbs as well. Really, the symptoms seem to be passing right now, so there's no real need for any herbal teas. My throat hardly even itches right now, honestly."How disappointing. A small distance away from this terrible scene of refusal,
Mark petitions Justine for help locating the errant crew members. He writes out a message on the deck in front of her with his writing slug, then points at it.
Where are the two we are missing?Justine looks at the message.
"Haven't got precise information on that. The chair is presumably near where you last saw him, and the jester is out looking for him. Find one and you're likely to find the other."Supposing that's as good a hint as any, Mark heads out to find his friends. He soon manages to locate his chair buddy, who seems to currently be fighting a bleeding man.
While Mark locates his quarry,
Sigmund tries to stop the random air flows around his location.
[Sigmund's magic roll: 5]
The air flow mostly stops - Sigmund can still feel little breezes blowing toward him and hear little whooshing noises all around him - clearly, something is getting mixed up here.
In the streets of Shriekpot...Niklas is rather angry. His chair friend has been murdered horribly! And someone's responsible! Someone currently at a slight disadvantage!
"FOUL MEATFLESH I WAS GOING TO USE THAT!"[Niklas vs. Chair-Hater: 3-
2 vs. 5+1-
1-
1]
However, a martial arts genius Niklas certainly is not, as he leaps right over the man, who then uses the chair as both a support for getting up and an outlet for his pent-up rage.
[Throw: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 4+1+
1 vs. 4]
He lifts Niklas off the ground and throws him across the street, bellowing with frustration. This time, Niklas merely slides to a stop on the ground, not hitting anything particularly hard on the way. It's still unpleasant, though.
Mark, meanwhile, wonders whether it's best to just grab Niklas and go or to stab the frustrated chair person and risk potential escalation.
Near a rather dangerous grease fire...Scott, supposing that the barrel itself is enough of a statement to the owners of the ship, quickly vacates the premises and returns to his home - the Second Shank! There he finds that little has changed aside from the Artiste looking a little better than before and Mark being missing. Hm.
In an artifact weapon-pet store...Darren, hoping that he won't regret this decision, picks a particular maybe-sculpture-maybe-pet - a rabbit made of bone-white, glowing bolts - and pets it.
[Darren's carefulness roll: 4]
He feels the tip of one of the bolts nearly pierce into his ectoplasmic flesh - it's almost like the bolts were pulling him toward themselves. He pulls his hand back slowly, hoping that the pet store lady is satisfied.
"See? Very lovely and cute pets, no? This one is a bargain - only five hundred quicksilvers, yes?"Darren's not sure how much that is, honestly.
Inside the Webbed Toe...Kevin, now feeling nice and drunk, elaborates on his unlife story.
"I come from a house not too far off. All undead soulbound to some necromancer guy who made his own husband into a zombie! Boring as hell though. Then this guy who calls himself the Artiste comes along with a skeleton that has a tree for a head, a bunch of wizards and a dodgy vampire guy, soulbinds us all, and then one of the wizards turns the necromancer into a blanket."Kevin pauses. It sounds kind of silly when put like that.
"The master says we'll be leaving soon, though. We're going to Horizon Isle or something. We found some sort of ship along the docks with a crazy old ghost captain. I'd much rather stay here, although the guards probably disagree.""What a terribly pretentious name your master has.""May be fitting for someone who can undo a binding of a soul. But that's something to look into later, really. As is the prospect of turning one of my own enemies into a blanket - remind me to consider that, Stephen.""Only if you record the event!""Naturally! I might even gift you the lucky person. That'll result in a good night's sleep, I'm sure.""Maybe turn another one into a pair of undergarments and gift it to somebody you hate!""Truly, the sky is the limit, heh! Anyway, Kevin, I heard you mention a dodgy vampire fellow. Is he the real deal? Panics at intersections, can't go into houses uninvited?""Upchucks at the smell of garlic or roses? Is petrified by pentacles?""Those vampire people are so cute! I have one as a retainer, and he just breaks down, curls up and starts crying blood whenever he reaches a fork in the road. What a card!""It's also funny if you conjure sunlight at them. Particularly in the middle of the night. I tell you, I've heard one shriek like a little girl when I did that.""Most prankable sentient creature currently around by a good country mile. Messing with them simply never gets old!"Kevin wonders how hilarious it would be to fill a bucket with, like, garlic and set it above a door. He can't imagine Sigmund's reaction, but he bets it'd be really funny.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 563696 times)