In the house of a smoking herbalist...
Kevin, having received reasonably good directions, goes on to leave politely.
"Well, then I should get going. In which direction on the road is the nearest town?"
"South, I believe."
South, the most pleasant of directions! So it shall be!
"It was a pleasure meeting you, herbalist!" Kevin declares, then heads out, finding a... well, maybe not what he would call a trail. He's sure it was a perfectly nice trail once, but really, now it's just a stretch of land where the undergrowth is a bit less thick. Nevertheless, he bravely follows it until he reaches... well, probably not a road. But certainly a very proud and dignified-looking corpse of one. Though the cobblestones are mostly visible, they are rather sparse, some of them clearly having given in to merciless grip of violent nature.
Still, Kevin heads south. In only two or so hours, he reaches something! It looks like a town! It's not too large - certainly not as big as Shriekpot by a long shot, but far larger than a village. In the middle of it he sees a rather large temple, presumably to one of the Five Gods, though it's difficult to say more from here.
On the shrieking ship of Shriekpot...
Sigmund, seeing how he's got exposition to give elsewhere later, decides to let Scott handle the treading of familiar ground.
"I think that you are the one who knows more about that subject. I would answer Craig's question, but Niklas is still roaming around the ship, possibly with his usual murderous intentions."
He then quickly leaves, allowing Scott to successfully take over. As Sigmund goes downstairs, he hopes he won't have to regret this decision.
Back on the deck, though, Scott accepts his solemn duty with something resembling a reasonable degree of competence!
"I will keep it succinct, We came to buy a boat. Some bastards posing themselves as the mages demanded coins for passes...leading to us nearly getting slaughtered by the owners. So we sought them out, raided an inn in the trade district, killing many of the guards, but we were laid low and barely survived. The Guards seem to have fled town, and the bastard is holed up in his house."
"Sounds like a terrible villain or villains indeed. So do you still seek revenge against this con artist?"
Scott silently looks at Tailor Craig.
"You are a tailor, right? Can you repair my clothes?"
"Certainly. You need but hand them to me, I'll have them fixed in... wait, you mean the ones on you? Probably not - they're burnt all over, and if I tried to patch them, they would end up more like a bunch of patches than a set of clothing. It would be rather inefficient to do so, that's what I'm trying to say here. As an alternative, I can offer you a whole new suit of clothing if you allow me two days of time, as well as a bit of time to measure you. Or I could send you to the Most Fabulous of Realms, which will be much faster, but has proven to be... unpredictable, to be honest."
Hm. That's an interesting choice he offers. The people still on deck spend a moment on contemplation until Morton breaks the silence.
"Sir Scott Yaleson, how did the night fair you? Hopefully well, yes?"
Scott doesn't immediately answer, his mind occupied with the finding of the perfect expletives to characterize his experiences with. Morton, always the considerate type, lets him have a moment to himself and talks to Craig instead.
"These certainly are interesting times, no? To think, just a few days ago I was a butler in another's employ. On another note however, I must profess myself curious good Tailor Craig, did you not imply you were from Emlocke? Whatever happened to cause you to leave? Something about it... exploding, was it?"
"I did live in Emlocke for quite a while - good place. Great place, really. Friendly locals, low rents, generally high standard of living. Purely lifemage-based healthcare. The Black Circle of Magic know how to run their locales for the benefit of the people, must say. Probably because they have no use for money, I suppose. There is the hazard of getting a terrible apprentice mage to help you with something, but otherwise things were peachy. However, there is the problem of one of the heads of the Circle dying, which sometimes happens, though altogether more rarely than it used to. When it does, we are forced to vacate our dwellings to prepare for the horde of new candidates that will arrive and duke it out until only one survives. Barbaric, yes, but such is tradition. And because of it, I am now homeless. This time, the destruction was particularly bad - it upset the earth and shifted stone, and Emlocke was practically destroyed in the quakes and such. So I wandered off and reached this place, you see. Not a bad place, certainly, but I do miss my little house and workshop occasionally."
Oh, those silly mages and their silly ascension rituals.
Below decks, though a drama of a different sort unfolds, as Sigmund arrives to find Niklas face to face with the Artiste! Not missing the slightest inkling of a beat, he explains the facts of the matter.
"Good morning, master. I see that you are finally awake. I'm new Sigmund. I had an encounter with the Aspect of Appeal, who made me what I am now. Morton and Kevin also went through the same process, but the results were different. Morton has been transformed into a desk, and Kevin has yet to appear. Anyway, I see that you found Niklas. He was rendered in that state after a confuse episode which involved Erin and Mark. Apparently, Erin made Niklas' body disappear, and Mark attached his head to this kind of catfish. It wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't that Niklas wants revenge. Not that he can achieve it in such a state, but before he can be fixed, I think that you should grudge the problem between the cook and the mage," he tells the Artiste, sighing at the end.
"Also, the demonologist who sent us to meet the Aspect of Appeal wants to meet you, he is at the gangplank. I think that he could be a nice addition to our group."
The Artiste nods, though the last statement clearly troubles him slightly. Before he can reply, though, Niklas intervenes! He isn't about to let his name get dragged about in the dirt!
"Revenge, Sigmund? No, forsooth - I merely desire recompense against the Mage for robbing me of my weapons. In this case, I intend to steal her magic once I find a way how. Maybe then I'll kill her for fun, but the point will be moot; I'll have my weapons back in done form or another. Also I need a new body. If another one is not taken, I'll steal hers."
"See? That attitude is clearly not beneficial for our group. I hope you can do something about it."
"I will insult you as well when I get my body back, don't you worry, Sigmund."
"First, you are in no condition to threaten anybody. Second, I'm not against you getting a new body, just against you hurting a valuable member of our group such as Erin. And third, I would actually help you get a new body, or at least help mark to do so, if it wasn't for your tendency to solve things by murdering people. It can be the solution to some problems, I admit that, but sometimes it can be detrimental for your body integrity, remember what happened at the Ulubelle?"
"No, I do not. Anyhow, I'm not going to murder her! That would be too quick. I'm just going to cut off her head and take her body, then give it back after a while."
"In the Ulubelle, your arms were reduced to a pulp because you tried to murder everyone and ended up fighting armored guards with kitchen utensils, while you could just ask for the bastard we were looking for. And also, I don't know if you realize that not everyone is undead, but Erin clearly isn't, so she wouldn't survive getting her head separated from her body. Now, please, we are all under the orders of the same master, can't we, at least, not fight between us?"
"Bah. Women back in my home village of Snårłbarførdinglisstenzçhudentop could be beheaded all day and suffer no harm. What weak type of women do you have in these lands that they can't survive being beheaded?"
"Um, normal women?"
"Bah. Pansies."
The Artiste, up until this moment only sagely nodding, now speaks.
"Yes, I do believe I have a solution."
He goes up to Erin's door and knocks. After a few moments, the door opens. Erin stands in the doorframe, fully dressed and looking rather awake.
"Ah, Erin. Good morning, glad to see that you are awake. Come here, I need your expertise for a moment."
"Good mornin' to ya as well. What is it?"
The Artiste leads Erin out and points to Niklas.
"This fellow holds you responsible for taking away his weapons and body."
"That was kinda accidental. And entirely preventable, too. This fella kept botherin' me to practice magic on him despite the fact that I was, well, half-asleep. This doesn't bode well for doin' magic, ya see. Kept bangin' on my door, even."
"Ah, I see. That's good, certainly. Sigmund, be a dear and help us carry our fishy friend to the top deck, will you? You help us out as well, Erin. We're all going that way, anyway."
Erin shrugs and goes up to Niklas' side along with the Artiste, Erin grabbing the thing by the tail, the Artiste by the head.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 565460 times)