On the deck of the Second Shank...
Scott, at a loss on what to do now that he's a ghost that can't seem to do anything, looks for the Captain. He is, however, nowhere to be found - not in any of the rooms, the halls or anywhere else Scott can think of. He's checked everywhere and had no luck. Wonder where the fellow might be?
Mark, meanwhile, attends to Erin. He obtains a glass of presumably clean water from the kitchen and hands it to Erin, who drinks it happily.
"Thanks! Needed that."
Keeping the ring to himself, Mark then takes inventory of the weapons aboard the ship - he concludes that the only one he's aware of is his halberd. And the harpoons. Both of those are useful mostly for stabbing, sometimes for slashing. But there's also Erin, he guesses, who can basically provide any weapon he may desire at will (that is, when she sobers up - otherwise it's probably not the best idea to bother her with anything). That's definitely something to take into consideration.
But enough about that! Sigmund, who is still trapped against a wall, hopes that the motion of the ship will make the point he concentrated the air flow toward distant enough to not bother anyone. And that does indeed seem to happen! Hooray! Yippee! Yay! Sigmund, for one, is quite happy that magic decided to be sensible this time around. He is freed just in time to see Niklas try something rather silly on the guy who's twisted into a know.
"Very well! I shall tell you a story!"
"A story!"
"A great story! A saga, even!"
"Ooh. Interesting."
"The saga of Fjolbraagchairbjorhlarvirgchairgarmhunnchairjorgchairharalchairchair, the Hero!"
"What an exotic name!"
"The saga begins like most sagas do, with a hero - Fjolbraagchairbjorhlarvirgchairgarmhunnchairjorgchairharalchairchair, or Fjolbraagchair, heading out of his home village with a band of hardy men of the north - Lothchairhardralchairulfchairchairtryggchairchair and Luthchairhardralchairulfchairchairtryggchairchair, toughest and meanest warrior brothers you have ever seen, among them! This legendary band sought out Hildredchairjulgrumphchairchair, the mostly nameless villain from the west that had displaced Fjolbraagchair's third cousin, Porfjalachairbuursvajkechairmutkechairchairchairhelne, the most beautiful woman in the entire land, from her comfortable home near the inhospitable volcano Fjolbraagchair had built her for the day that he would return to marry her and all of her sisters in a grand ceremony!"
"Ooh!"
"And then-" Niklas continues, but is interrupted by the skeleton woman returning and tapping the guy on the shoulder.
"Hey, Stephen. We should leave. Sun looks to be rising."
Stephen looks at the horizon.
"Yeah, I guess. Too bad. I was hoping to hear this."
"Well, you can come back later. When you have time."
"Right. When'll that be? Next century?"
"Oh, stop whining, will you? Besides, I've seen your schedule. Mine's worse. Let's go."
Stephen shakes his head and shrugs, then the two mages disappear in a flash of light.
In the den of the Second Shank...
Kevin says his farewells to Lizzie.
"Aw. Well then, I guess you have business to attend to. It was nice talking to you anyway. Don't get chopped in half or incinerated or something."
Lizzie nods slowly.
"Will do. And I hope you do the same. In fact..." she begins, fishing around inside her robe, "where'd it go? Ah, here."
She pulls out a bright red sphere about the size of an eyeball, opening up Kevin's hand and placing it on his palm.
"I'm pretty busy most of the time, but hey, if you ever feel like talking to me again or maybe arranging a meeting, just squeeze that little rock. Until then, goodbye. Was an immense pleasure talking to you, Kevin, and good luck to you," she says, waves goodbye to the jester, then soundlessly walks out of the room.
In the engineers' quarter of the City of the Dead...
Darren, not having found any people in the vicinity, advances to plan B.
"Huh... Actually," he turns to look at the woman. She seems to still be morose. "How long has it been since you sold one of your pets? If you're suffering from a lack of customers, I have an idea for a location you could try."
"Haven't sold one yet. Everyone is dead. Everyone who can help, anyway. And even if I could move my store, where would I take it?"
In the kitchen of the Second Shank...
Morton, after devoting a quiet moment to thinking about chants, comes to the conclusion that the only way to get anywhere with them now is to try and actually chant them. The Single Thought Chant comes first, and the accompanying single thought is obvious - tea!
[Morton's pronunciation roll: 4]
Morton actually has few problems pronouncing the words - there are a few doubtful 'ae's and a 'krkfthziks' he probably flubbed somehow, but he does feel a bit different as he focuses on the chant. There's actually an empty space provided for the object of one's focus - that's handy, Morton guesses. After a single time of getting through the whole thing, Morton doesn't feel any different. The second and third times, though, the idea of tea does begin to seem more defined to him. He can very easily form a complete mental picture of a cup of tea now, the texture of it, and what he remembers of the taste and aroma, he remembers clearly. Vividly, even. One has to wonder what would happen if he repeated this for an hour.
Right, guys (by which I mean the current main party, not Spinal and Yoink) - it's time for travel turns! Each turn is 24 hours, and there's going to be four of these. List the vague gist of the activities you hope to get to during the day. Though you can also do specific actions, and those'll be resolved outside of regular turns.
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 556971 times)