At the Red Tower of Power...
Niklas sits down in front of Fat Candace and decides to read his chant compendium for the information desired.
About an hour later, he gets up, having learned nothing about addressing gods and knowing which exact chants he might want out of all these available ones. Fat Candace seems to have utilized Niklas' state of distraction to float away. Hm.
In a dark and scary void...
Sigmund wonders about the sort of body he could receive from the gub - probably something ridiculous in all likelihood.
~Well, if Mark doesn't decide to get his metal buttocks moving and make a body for me soon, I think that I will agree, it's getting too dark here. In which kind of body would you put me, in that case?~
~there will be plenty momentarily! we are in the middle of transferring assets, and free bodies of human beings and ratfolk should be available, starting... now! yes! there are human and ratfolk bodies available!~
In a harbor of blinding white...
Scott keeps on talking, but now decides to ask the Artiste for input.
"What are your thoughts on this development... and possible future, master?"
"What, the gub using magic? They've been rather harmless so far, actually, and I see no reason to suspect that they will be anything but the very nicest overlords of all they can see for all eternity. Nevertheless, I must order you to not listen to or fulfill any of the gub's orders or requests from here on in," the Artiste says firmly. Ah, that lash of magically-enforced authority. Scott has not missed it.
~we knew that we had neglected an important fact! but it was lost in our list of priorities!~ the gub say, and suddenly everything turns dark for Scott. When everything returns to a state of normality, there is no more blinding light. Instead, Scott can fully see the docks, which look just as mostly deserted as they did when he was here the first time.
~you are an unproductive and inefficient addition to the thinking apparatus of the gub! we are at a loss on what to do with you exactly! so for now, you are free! and if you seek out or happen to observe your master, your soul will be placed into a random place and shuffled around for as long as it is needed!~
Interestingly, both Joe and the Artiste seem to be gone, though the former's absence is certainly easier to spot.
At the harbor of Mothdale...
Morton, who is currently being carried, decides to stop being such an awful burden and accept transfiguration once again.
~I would most certainly appreciate such a generous offer, good group Gub. I've only one request, if you don't mind, which is that the new body may be able to make tea effectively. Otherwise I've no qualms, whatever you believe is best good group Gub. Might I inquire as to how however? I must admit to being a tad curious... Oh, I should quite inform my compatriots of the transfer, I wouldn't want them to worry,~ he says, looking at his compatriots and regaling them with the pleasant news.
"Good jester Kevin, good surgeon Mark, good group Gub has been kind enough to offer me a new form, and I've accepted," he says, and Kevin just shrugs while Mark remains steadfastly expressionless.
~commencing relocation!~
[the gub's magic roll: 5]
Suddenly, Morton feels an immense pull, and is yanked out of his own broken body with ruthless, yet painless efficiency. The period in between is only seconds long, but feels quite a bit longer - the sensation of hurtling bodilessly through the city is disorienting and bewildering, to say the least, and feels quite a bit like death, Morton observes after a period of calmly thinking about it. In fact, it might as well be death as far as he knows, except maybe it's the temporary sort of death, you never know.
Well, anyway, he doesn't die, fortunately enough - instead, he feels the altogether familiar - at least twice as familiar as death, in fact - sensation of entering a body. A body, in fact, that may have been alive mere moments ago! It feels warm, anyway, and its life signs have not disappeared entirely when he enters it. They even quickly resume once the transition takes - Morton is, in fact, kind of alive right now.
Opening his eyes, he notices a very filthy ceiling.
Mark decides that he does probably need Sigmund for something - fishing, for instance. That's a pretty good use for him, really. He takes out his tools and hops back to the orb, thinking up some kind of fishing-related design.
[Mark's "medicine" roll: 2+1]
He can't really think of anything much better than a net of some kind, and so begins slicing tiny little bits of flesh from one of-
~no time!~
[the gub's magic roll: 2]
Mark wonders what the gub meant by that, and continues his work on the net-thing - he starts making headway on the weave, actually. Eventually he manages to make a crude sort of fleshy fishing tool - now to only figure out how to put Sigmund in it, really.
Kevin, meanwhile, wonders what to do with his life now that he's shrugged and all the life has drained from Morton's former body. Hopefully the fellow's alright. Wouldn't want him to have died or anything. Hm. Wonder what kind of body the gub put him into.
~no time no time no time!~
[the gub's magic roll: 2]
The gub do seem awfully excited, Kevin thinks. Wonder why.
"Hey, Kevin!"
Kevin turns to look at the Artiste, who seems to have buggered over here from wherever he was before. The man looks quite excited.
"I forbid you to fulfill or listen to any orders or requests from the gub!" he says rapidly, and Kevin feels his very soul snap a little as the order takes effect.
~how tiresome!~
Kevin then immediately blacks out, and the Artiste performs a rather unusual ten-meter step toward Mark.
"Hey, Mark, I forbid you to fulfill or listen to any orders or requests from the gub!" he tells the skeleton, and the order takes effect similarly to how it did in Kevin's case. Furthering the similarity, Mark immediately blacks out as well.
The two undead wake up some time later, and the Artiste is nowhere to be found at that point.
~we order you to speak with and follow the artiste!~ the gub immediately say. For some reason, both Mark and Kevin immediately feel a very distinct aversion to the idea.
At a forming stalactite...
Darren attempts to discover more about this creature before agreeing to be its friend.
"Ah, yes, that would be delightful, but I have a question. What sort of things do you and your friends do? We can't very well be friends without shared interests."
"Well, I do suppose that's true," the thing says, twisting in place a little. "I rather like music, I suppose. I can tap out a pretty mean beat, I think. I also shapeshift occasionally. And I like geology, I guess. Other than that, I don't think I've done much in the past ten or so years."