In the streets of Mothdale...
Idly rolling through the streets, Sigmund considers the burned houses, and concludes that he can't determine much about them - there isn't anything at all left, just black piles of ash that the wind blows every which way at regular intervals. Presumably the inhabitants of said homes died horrible deaths at the hands of an angry mob of some kind, or, who knows, maybe they were burned alive inside. It's definitely a mystery he can't resolve without the glorious power of limbs, he supposes.
He is also rather disappointed when he spots no guillotines or bloodstained headsman's blocks on his roll through town. Maybe the noblemen were all taken down without due process? That'd make it a somewhat savage revolution, he guesses.
In a mostly empty room...
Niklas tries to strike a careful balance between exulting in his obviously deserved power and trying to make sure he doesn't inadvertently do something violent and wildly stupid with it as usual. He believes he may have grown quite a bit as a person since the last time he was granted power of a similar magnitude, and that this will somehow help.
[Niklas' will roll: 1]
His belief is proven to be woefully, tragically, completely mistaken when he feels the walls of the room lurch, then crack, then half-explode and half-disintegrate, the shards of wall flying right at him, enveloping him in a mosaic-like statue of a chair with only two legs, like an outer stony shell of some kind. It has the twin deficiencies of being completely impossible to move inside of and having no way of standing upright.
And that's not even taking into account the fact that the floor, walls and ceiling of the room are gone now, which leads him to fall about a single floor and hit another stone floor, which affects his stone shell in no palpable way whatsoever.
Strangely, he can actually see what's around him from inside the shell - he seems to have landed in some sort of room filled with bunk beds and surprised people, none of which he seems to have squished accidentally in his descent.
At the sunny beach of Mothdale...
Scott and Mark, having nothing better to do, head back into the city on their own separate paths, the gub's mental presence being insufficient to presently stop them.
Scott is lucky enough to find a house. It reminds him a little of his own old house. Very nice to look at.
Mark is similarly fortunate, in that he finds a silver coin lodged in the fingers of a dead body lying in a basement he happened to look into - all but the basement itself are appropriated for personal use in short order.
In a temple of Velusius...
Kevin thinks he would like to get out of here, thank you very much.
~Well, the hivemind seems to be sleeping or something, else I wouldn't dare contact you. The priest climbed up the walls, so I guess I'm on sort of a break. I'd love to get out of here, for a start.~
~Easily done.~
Kevin's surroundings take on a liquid nature within seconds, then reform into a colorless gas, then a massive cloud of pure white in what seems like a very dramatic, yet completely natural transformation, which then reverses itself, with Kevin finding himself in what looks like some sort of stone terrace. The architecture and furniture, all of which seems incredibly solid, monolithic and lacking in ornamentation as well as rich in vegetation growing in the cracks, evoke a sense of ancient history, or maybe even prehistory. From the terrace, which seems to be placed as high up from the ground as Kevin has ever been, the ex-jester spies somewhat untamed vegetation dotted with signs of limited destruction as far as the eye can see, with the exception of what appears to be a far-off small town.
Next to him stands a solid black silhouette of a woman wearing a bluish-white robe. It turns and speaks to him.
"Nice place, isn't it?"
On the Second Shank...
Morton, now in the final third of the chanting process, begins the Empty Mind Chant, and soon (subjectively, anyway - it's difficult to tell how much time has actually passed) thinks of absolutely nothing apart from the idea of healing, which bounces around in his mind, echoing so powerfully that it drowns out pretty much everything else. Though his senses have not been taken, he sees nothing, hears nothing and feels nothing. His mind is numb, allowing it to focus purely on one concept, to bring it into reality with nothing but the driving desire to do so.
He is ready.
In the streets of the engineers' quarter of the City of the Dead...
Darren decides now would be the time to spring the sales pitch on these children. He puts away the tools of his trade and bows to the kids, who look surprised.
"A tip would be fine, but, would any of you be interested in getting a pet? A woman I know is seeking homes for some animals, and there's probably an animal for each of you."
"Depends on details," the laconic one says first.
"A pet? I dunno, maybe, I guess."
"I have to agree with my friend - it does depend on certain details, such as who this woman might be and other facts."
"Wait... woman... pets... you mean the crazy lady, right? My mom told me to stay away from that pet store she's got!"
"That doesn't fill me with confidence about the prospect."
Outside Blynn's finest ruined tavinn...
Timothy, after making sure of his invisibility, floats closer to the hole - no signs of life are immediately apparent, though the ruins don't seem entirely silent. Part of it is the dog, of course, but Timothy can detect some other sound within as well, though it is not easily discernible enough to pinpoint exactly what or where it is.
The hole itself seems like a perfectly normal perfectly round hole in the ground that a good portion of a tavinn has collapsed into, by the way. Timothy can still see the surface of the table he unwisely messed with, actually. Still, with no signs of movement, he decides to float up and see if anybody's coming to investigate. After a bit of vertical ascension, he notices... nobody, pretty much. Nobody except the familiar figure of that dog owner's main squeeze, who appears to be rushing this way rapidly from the rough direction of center of Blynn.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564946 times)