On the deck of the Second Shank...
Sigmund, not entirely trusting either Justine or the word of a magical pumpkin, scans Evelyn with his metavision, which he happened to tentatively name just now. He gets few facts out of this look - he now knows that the pumpkin contains Soul 55-137322-14456711-61119031-1345221885-910995376, that its self-name is Evelyn Greene and that it possesses no innate magical ability.
Niklas, underwhelmed by the way nobody wants to help him, clatters up to Erin in what he hopes to be an expectant manner. Erin stares at him for a moment, then seems to remember something.
"Oh, I remember. I was gonna help ya with something. But what? Hm... maybe y'could remind me..."
[Erin's magic roll: 5]
Suddenly, Niklas' structure is altered, and immediately something like a system of pipes forms on the bottom of his seat, with some sort of articulation apparatus included. It feels in many ways like a throat, mouth and tongue, albeit in a very abstracted fashion.
"Now, what is it y'want, exactly?" Erin asks, though Niklas can't exactly hear it.
As this happens, Morton continues to play the role of mediator.
"Self-preservation is a rather powerful thing," he tells Justine, who merely smirks. He then moves over to Evelyn, who is still examining the mast.
"I'm afraid I'm at a loss as to what you mean with the mast, mage Evelyn. Do you wish for us to go off onto our destination?"
Evelyn pauses a moment, then taps once and heads downstairs. As she steps over Kevin, the jester has only one question.
"So, what is that thing?"
"Evelyn. Rather interesting what can happen to you in a week, really."
Scott, meanwhile, feels like things have taken a turn for the abominably boring, opting to complain and ask for tea in lieu of being able to destroy various interlopers.
"Dear gods what will go wrong next? Can anyone make tea?"
"I can do so if required, sir Scott. It has been a while since I've made some, and perhaps it would help calm our nerves..." Morton immediately and predictably offers.
In a house of hands...
Darren, feeling that reiteration has never hurt anybody, does so for the benefit of the hand person.
"Ah, yes. I was sent here on behalf of a god. He saved me from being made into ghost soup, and now I must retrieve this for him."
"Yes, somewhat of a standard situation. Well, apart from you being a ghost. That is a new one, I have to admit. There have been several people who tried to get the Crown before you - they did not do too well, I'm afraid. They were made of flesh and weren't very well suited to getting through here, really. The machines in this district took them apart, I believe. The Crown itself is in the engineer tombs, if I recall correctly - I think the death god put it there on purpose. The fellow loves tombs, as I'm sure you must suspect. Anything you'd like to know about the thing? I recall some facts, but nothing too in-depth, I'm afraid."