On the Second Shank...
Sigmund tries to think of something simple enough to use as his practice spell. Within moments, he's got it - he shall try to displace air! He writes the phrase "Displace air" on a piece of paper, then heads down into the cargo hold, prepared to experience interesting things. Within the cargo hold, he finds the Captain, who appears to be conversing with a wall.
"Oh, I'm SURE we can PULL IT OFF, OH YES! It will simply TAKE A BIT OF EFFORT, REALLY!"
Sigmund wonders what that might be all about for a moment when his thoughts are interrupted by Scott's voice, not unlike the scream of a crow, albeit much louder, yet still as unpleasant as usual.
"CAPTAIN, GET YOUR SPECTORAL HANDS ON DECK, WE HAVE FILTHY LANDLUBBERS EYING YOUR SHIP LIKE DRUNKS ON A BARMAID!"
The Captain turns from the wall.
"Oh DEAR! HOW TERRIBLE!"
He then floats off, paying Sigmund no mind. The shouting stops after a minute or so, at which point Sigmund tries to concentrate. He gets himself all worked up within minutes. He's feeling it, that's for sure.
In the meantime, Scott stands around yelling until the Captain arrives, which he does quite soon. This is good, because Scott fears his voice would have give out altogether given but a minute more of the dreadful noise.
"AH! THERE you are, SEA APE! WHERE are these LAND-LUBBERS or WHATEVER that you seem so WORKED UP ABOUT?"
On the deck of the ship, Kevin, having been left alone, asks Justine a question.
"Could you divine how long it's gonna take the smith working on Mark to finish?"
"Given that you're asking and that I have very little clue what you're talking about, probably not. But a rough estimate? About half a day, maybe more. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"
At what is presumably Niklas' current resting place...
Morton asks Art if he can help in any way.
"Mage Art, I'm not sure if this is something that can be done, but can you sense if Chef Niklas is... there? Even if you can, I know that the chances are probably slim, and I'm not sure what we could exactly do if we did indeed find him to still be alive..." he says to him.
"Sure," he says, looking to be deep in thought in a moment.
"...I suppose this would be how Chef Niklas would've wanted to go. I know little about him, having only known him for his cooking, but I know he must've led a colorful life; hopefully one that left people happier than not."
"Well, I wouldn't know - I'm not very well-versed in whatever weird culture he comes from. He's also not very dead at all, it seems. Soul's still in there, and it's definitely his, seems quite agitated. Strangely, he seems a bit... happy, I guess?"
At the Great Old One, the biggest tree of Helsvar's village...
Niklas has but one thing on his squirrely mind.
"NUTS."
He proceeds to climb up the tree and go on an acorn looting spree, finding that there are far more than he can carry up there - far more than he can even stuff in his amazing cheeks! He's got it made! He's as rich as a squirrel can-
"I SAY, YOU THERE!" comes a voice from nearby. Niklas looks to see who it is, and sees that it seems to be another squirrel. Not bigger than him, but not much smaller, either. "What in the name of the Nut Gods do you think you're doing in my tree?"