On the top floor of the Artiste's home...Kevin stops his jabbering and stands in what he hopes is a dignified fashion as
Morton commences with the introductions.
"Ah, this is Kevin, grand jester extraordinaire! He makes farces as amusing as they are thought provoking, I'm assured that the great deal on the galley would not've gone as well as it had without his help. He can't quite speak, being a skeleton, but I can only promise that there is a lot going on in his head with the ideas of his expressed through his actions and skits. Its a pleasure to meet you, Erin, both from me and Kevin. If I might ask, how did you get wound up with this Artiste? He seems a strange, but likable fellow.""Oh, him? Well, ya see, there was this incident in Emlocke - you know, that bit where the Black Circle of Magic does their thing and selects new members in a bloody massacre for the ages? Well, we competed and hoped to win, and in the process bound good ol' Mark - you know, tree-face guy - to follow our commands and go to this demonologist, kill 'im and bring back his stuff. He came back with the Artiste, who immediately bound us to him at the soul level. Without performing the magic usually needed for such a situation. It was pretty weird. And from there on in I and my old compatriots - oh, and Bernie as well, I guess - have been adventuring together. It's a bit sad we couldn't win the competition, but the Artiste said it would be too... conspicuous. Considering that he's some kind of pseudo-demon, I'm inclined to agree, actually."Oh, exposition. Is there anything like it?
At the bottom of a well...Mark tries to right himself inside the well!
[Self-manipulation roll: 5+1]
He twists around until his head points upwards, then climbs upwards.
[Climbing roll: 2+1]
Man, this wall is slippery. And a brief test reveals that the wooden beam the rope of the well is attached to is incapable of holding Mark's weight. Dang.
In Brenwicke's Books...Sigmund, located in a wonderland of books at the moment, looks for subjects that might interest him in some way. For one, a book on the Sea of Death. Surprisingly enough, there's a great many tomes on that, most of them rather thick - there's books of maps, books of descriptions, adventurer-centered books and storybooks, creature books and even a guide to reaching the City of Dreams. Okay, so there's a vast selection on that. What about vampire books?
Those are in rather short supply, actually. There's a bit of vampire-themed smut at the back of the store, and a fairy tale book with a vampire drawn on the cover. Other than that, nothing. That just leaves one more thing - the necromancy selection.
Necromancy, unlike vampire literature, is very widely represented - it even gets its own shelf, with books on certain bindings, necromantic focus selection, necromantic magic methods, scientific treatises on the nature of the soul, overviews on necromancy as a whole, abridged versions of said overviews, a few beginner's manuals on necromancy and a few other tomes. There's even a book of spellbook samples, interestingly enough.
Outside the Artiste's kitchen...Niklas, having found a fellow appreciator of mutilated animal parts, inquires on his culinary preferences.
"Finally, an appreciator of food! Any preference for flesh? Want some human?"The Artiste thinks for a moment.
"Well, that collection of parts you fed to me was rather good, and I haven't actually eaten anything else in all my existence. So it's been a day of new things for me. But yes, human flesh sounds quite acceptable. You have any available?"In a temple of Narcillicus...Scott confidently steps to the altar and kneels down in front of it, beseeching the god of pestilence and death to give him some help already. He'll sacrifice something, you know. So you know he's good for it! Come on! Give favors already!
He feels something unusual, like a feminine presence in his mind.
~God of pestile- what? You want a god of pestilence and death? Pick one of those. Pestilence is Pacitarius, death is Velusius. And this is an altar of Rysinia, which is something else entirely. Since you're not a repeat offender like some, you won't get struck down just yet. So scram. Next time you do something like this, you die. Understood?~Um... that's strange.
In the streets of Emlocke...Darren, deaf and slightly concussed as he might be, starts to slowly float upwards. Realizing that he also should be inside a wall, he scoots off to the side, keeping his deaf head out of a stone wall. He sees the man with the blade arm take something out of his pocket. Like a star of some kind.
[Whip Man vs. Armored Lady: 2+1 vs. 3+3-
1]
The star hits the lady, shattering into bits against her armor. The man looks grimly at this situation. The dog, meanwhile, seems to be ready to bark again!
[Master magic roll: 1+1]
Or not. More than anything, it looks to be curious about what the lady is doing. Fortunately for it, she reveals this immediately, starting to glow brightly and initiating a triumphant charge at the man!
[Armored Lady vs. Whip Man: 1+2+1 vs. 1+2]
A triumphant charge that misses almost entirely, the lady's glowing hammer only slightly clipping the man in the blade arm, making him spin around on his heel. Darren is rather pleased to find that he can hear the clank this produces rather clearly.
"You cannot battle the glory of the gods, filthy mage!"
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 565380 times)