Within Helsvar's village...
Niklas, after creating a remarkably heavy acorn chef hat, tries to perform something vaguely resembling cooking in certain parts of the world. He finds an adequately small piece of meat and tries to piledrive it into the table he found it on, to varying degrees of success. The other people in the room seem quite amused and not at all bothered by a rodent physically assaulting their food.
Question is, are they laughing with him or at him? His guts twist with this question, but the sensation quickly passes.
On the Second Shank...
Sigmund heads down into the cargo hold of the ship and redoubles his efforts to make a focus. He first tries to feel the order of the world somehow.
He does feel something, he finds - it seems a bit strange, because, for all of Sigmund's talents, he didn't know extrasensory perception to be one of them. How very odd. He gets the feeling that there is something up with the world, a certain knotting of universal laws centered around him for some reason.
Scott, meanwhile, seeks out the fellow on the other ship to ask him a few good questions. He walks off the gangplank, shambles up the pier and steps over to the other ship, where the watcher stands, still looking at the Second Shank. The guy turns to him.
"Hm? What do you want?"
In a house of hands...
Darren asks a question of the handmaiden.
"I was speaking with a man outside about an artifact I'm questing for?"
"Er... I wouldn't be an authority on that sort of thing. Did he say that he would be here or... oh, there he comes. Thank goodness."
Darren looks around, but doesn't see anything until a panel on the wall opens up and the two hands from outside slink out of it.
"Ah, I see you've met Ms. Fern."
"Well, we haven't officially introduced ourselves or anything."
"I'm sure you will, but that will have to wait until later. Firstly, I believe the good fellow had a question about the Crown of Flowers?"
Ms. Fern is visibly quieted by the mention - her mouth-hand purses, then closes up into a fist as her hands retreat back into the hole, though the eye-hand still peeks out at Darren.
At the melting point of Niklas...
Morton, after making sure to consult with the varying voices in his head, comes to a decision.
"The guard surely won't keep the street like this for long, I fear that if we don't hurry they may remove him before we return. If there is anything I can do to aid the transfer, do please speak up, good mage Art. Choose any of the three that you feel best works. Chef Niklas liked to cook, as he is a chef, so perhaps the pot may hold a firmer grasp onto him?"
"I don't really know, but yeah, let's go for the pot."
Art outstretches his hands, pointing one at the pile of slag, the other at the pot.
[Art's magic roll: 1]
He opens his eyes.
"Erm... whoops. Well, doesn't look like he was killed by that, so why don't we try again?"