At your friendly neighborhood slaughterhouse...
Niklas tries a different method for door opening. Namely, a helmet-assisted charge at the door lock!
[Strength roll: 5+1]
Taking a few steps back, Niklas charges headfirst at the door, opening it extremely violently and quickly!
[Endurance roll: 2]
He does appear to have slightly snapped his neck in the process, however. He hasn't lost any limb function, though his head is limply hanging on his shoulders right now.
But who cares! He's in a slaughterhouse!
On the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...
Scott, cleverly deducing that Mark is a big boy and can take care of himself, walks off to find some sail cloth.
However, he is wildly unsuccessful, as all the sail cloth he can see around is already used for sailing! How terrible! He is at a complete loss on what to do now!
Mark, meanwhile, tries to figure out what he needs for the rituals. Fortunately, there's a rather small space free where he could probably both start a fire and draw a circle of some kind. Still need a victim, though.
[Mark endurance roll: 3]
In other news, Mark feels like he's getting more stupid. Or is it stupider? What was the rule on that again?
Kevin, still feeling rather down on the concept of being a fishing rod, tries to rip it away from himself!
However, it is both spiky and formed out of his spine, so that might not be the best idea. He does, however, unhook himself from the fish easily. Stupid fish with their lack of fingers. When will they learn that pulling will only hurt more?
At an unusually hateful fire pit...
Sigmund, after considering how best to explain his hideous failures to Morton, goes with the straightforward route rather than the far more interesting route of just making stuff up.
"I was looking for some kind of flask or glass to keep the spores in, but I realzed that, as the spores are so small to even see, that wouldn't be useful at all. I also looked for some kind of large piece of cloth that we can use to cover a mature mushroom, so that it doesn't fire spores at us, but I was unsuccessful, too."
He is also struck by another idea.
"While we wait for the fire to extinguish, why don't we take all those spores out of us? It's better to do that sooner than later."
"Sounds appropriate, although it would have to be cold as the spores tend to take to that well. Good thing we're second-chancers, thus rather cold, else they might grow quickly. Do you think we should ask Sir Mark as to how he got his spores off? Ours might prove to be a more durable brand, a simple washing might not suffice... the mixture did respond by shrinking to the dry ice on the ship, although I doubt we would much wish for frost bite all over us to be rid of such a pestilence. In my case, it would be a matter of the end of the world, fire or ice."
Long story short, that is exactly what they resolve to do - ask Mark for advice! After all, he's awfully mushroom-free now. After packing up, among other things, the single remaining hate-branch, Morton's oar and one of the tiny mushrooms, they leave the raging, smoking fire pit in the woods as they return to the ship. They successfully locate Mark, still looking sharp, if unusually wet, looking at a particularly patch of deck on the ship. Sigmund makes sure to stay away just in case.
In a mostly-empty town hall...
Darren, having gotten what he came for, goes to the Tomb of Everything, which is a quaint little establishment opposite the town hall.
He is greeted by a young girl, probably no older than fourteen, dressed in rags. She addresses him in a squeaky voice, her small, ratlike eyes darting around the store (which, by the way, seems to have mostly ancient, indescribable junk in stock) on occasion.
"Hello, ghost! What're you looking for in the Tomb of Everything?"
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 557546 times)