On the deck of the Second Shank...
Scott opens up negotiations with a simple bunch of questions.
"What are the chief dangers we may face?... And why did you address the master as 'fiend'?"
Justine doesn't close her eyes this time, answering Scott immediately in a completely deadpan manner.
"Yourselves, to answer your first question. All other dangers, including, but not limited to fiendish sea-creatures, opportunistic land-lubbers, airborne invaders and magic gone wild in ways never before imagined, are secondary. As for why I called the fiend a fiend, I was merely speaking the truth."
"You're too kind, Justine. By the way, you are strictly disallowed from harming either me or any of my minions, should you feel the need to do so in the future."
Justine lightly twitches, but says nothing. Suddenly, Sigmund appears quite out of the blue, approaching the happenings with interest.
"What is happening here?"
"Secret club meeting, good sir. You're not invited. Go on now, shoo," the ghost tells him, making an appropriate shooing gesture.
"Aw, don't be so harsh on the poor guy. That's Sigmund, you know. He means well and all that."
"I would still prefer it if he would leave, though. Don't like the look of him. I mean, he's obviously up to something. Better to keep him out of the loop about your big plans. Doesn't look like he'd be glad to get sacrificed, does he?"
"Oh, don't be silly. I'd never sacrifice my dear boy Siggy! After all, how likely am I to get another minion like him to just stroll up to me like that again?"
Justine gives the Artiste a knowing, yet completely artificial grin.
"I'm sure you'd figure something out," she says, and the Artiste just waves his hand at her dismissively.
Before the dialogue can develop further, Kevin asks a question.
"I have a question. Who are you? What happened to your face?"
"I'm Justine, obviously. Can't you tell? I see things, and somebody apparently thinks it's a valuable talent. I can also froth at the mouth on command when the mood strikes me. As for my current condition, it is a most unfortunate birth defect. I was born stabbed through the face and heart, you see. Quite tragic, really."
In a cul-de-sac of some sort...
Darren, hoping he isn't setting himself up for more flaying disappointment, wraps up his flayed arm in his available kerchiefs. It looks quite swanky now!
"Oh. Uhh... Sorry."
The mouth-hand's mouth narrows to an O, almost looking like an eye like the one on the hand next to it.
"I was running away from... from some sort of mage woman."
"Oh. So you weren't visiting at all? How disappointing. Perhaps I can help you with something anyway? After all, since you're here, might as well enjoy a little hospitality, yes?"
In a senseless void...
Niklas proposes an interesting idea.
"Could you take me to your village?"
"I could try, yes. It's not far at all - I should be able to drag you along, if you do not mind, my love."
In the streets of Shriekpot...
Morton, after a moment of being confused at the way events develop, jolly well joins Art in the indignation parade. He opens his drawer up with a groan, then moves his arms to approach the spot where the hideous filthy man deigned to place his dirty hand - nay, not even a hand, a vicious claw of defilement, even! As he begins to speak, the officer shrinks back a little.
"A travesty, a tragedy of the highest order has befallen us. Yes, good officer, I greatly assure you that I can quite indeed point where that... that... vagrant befouled me," he says, turning to Art immediately in a cowed manner.
"Please forgive me, my lady; I did not mean to use such dreadful language in front of you, the severity of the situation must be getting to me. I assure you, had that man came any closer to you I would of attempted to insist that he of left us alone post-haste, or extradited him to the nearest official of the law. My greatest consolation is that he did not manage to befoul you thanks to your tactful action, I only wish I could've done more."
"You are forgiven, dear servant - why, that terrible, wretched goblin of a man brought me to a point where even the most proper lady would be sorely tempted to lapse into the most base vernacular. To be assaulted in the streets by dirty peasants, one simply cannot expect such a thing from a proper, rational society - I was nearly petrified from shock myself! Petrified, oh yes!"
Morton then turns back to the guard, looking a bit more dignified. "I assure you officer, the damage is plain for all eyes, I can feel his--his marks. I--I had been only trying to ask for directions, but the man raved and ranted, shouted and followed us wherever we went. I feared for my lady's safety and tried to ask for him to be on his way, but then he accosted us with accusations of demon possession and guile!" he says, pointing at the tarnished spot again. "I had thought this was such a quaint city, with its rustic charms and upstanding citizens, but I dreadfully fear such an image has now been tarnished in my mind... but I trust in the will and presence of the guards, I know you will prevent such a travesty and rightful action will be taken."
"I think I can see a handprint on him! Oh, the humiliation!"
"Rest assured, ma'am and... desk, we will apprehend and question him in due time - he is well-known to us, and seemed harmless until now - we will be sure to administer many vicious beatings in your name, have no fear. In the meantime, I advise you avoid such suspicious types to the best of your ability."
"It is the least you can do, after all! Getting attacked by vagrants in the trade district, what's next? Kings having their pockets picked in public? Zero tolerance, good sir! Do not let such filth take root in the city, or civilization as we know it is lost!"
"Erm... yes, of course, milady."
"You have to wonder, where are we safe, really? Clearly not here, as our experience has proven!"
"If I may say so myself, this section, despite isolated incidents, is one of the safest. You should be protected well enough here, though perhaps you should... um... well, nevermind. Just avoid wandering too far to the east - stay away from suspicious names, like the Alley of Muffled Screams, the Feisty Jelly, Leaky Eye Road and-"
"The Alley of Muffled Screams! What kind of respectable town would have a alley with such a terrible name?"
It's almost audible as the guard mentally backpedals a little. He looks a bit embarrassed.
"Uhm... they tried renaming it, but the name was already popular, and it didn't stick, you know how it is... and besides, it's not that bad a place - it's not too far from here, really, and there's hardly any screaming going on there aside from... heh-heh... aside from certain activities."
"Do not forget who you are speaking to, you barbarian! You say it is close by, this disreputable place! How do I avoid walking into it? I do not think I could handle a repeat of this incident!"
"I am sorry. Just don't go down too far Cooper Street - that's right there - yes, stay clear of the further parts of that, and you should be good," the guard helpfully explains, pointing to a nearby street.
"Very well! I shall!" Art half-shouts, getting near-hysteria across pretty well, Morton would say. The guard looks at them in silence for a moment.
"Gods, man! What are you waiting for? Report that dastardly knave at once!"
"Oh, right, sh-uhm, yes, milady. I shall do it at once. Stay safe in the meantime!" the guard says, running off quickly. Art turns to Morton.
"Right, then! Onward, my loyal desk-in-waiting! Business awaits!" he says, still in that odd tone.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 561888 times)