In the streets of Shriekpot...Sigmund, having obtained a suitable victim, points him in the right direction.
"Well, the barrel is in a ship. Let me take you there," he says. He then remembers that there is an inexplicable tree-headed skeleton standing next to him. He'd better cover that as well.
"Oh, and this individual you see here is Mark, he takes care of me when I find myself unable to do certain things. But he was unable to help me to move that barrel."The drunk gives
Mark a long look, blinking several times, but then evidently thinks it better not to ask. The three people then go back to the ship, where they find the barrel of the Special. Sigmund points at it in a dignified manner, and the drunk begins to stare at it, smacking his lips. At this point, Mark chooses to strike!
[Mark vs. Drunk: 5+1-
2 vs. 1-
1-
1]
His arms go around the drunk's neck with astonishing quickness, then his entire body constricts suddenly and violently, crushing the drunk's neck completely in mere seconds. Mark then twists the head a few times, then removes it completely, leaving a headless, bleeding corpse behind.
Justine, it must be said, isn't very happy about this, it seems.
"Why would you do that? Just kill a man like that?"This sudden bit of reproach wakes up
Niklas, who immediately snaps out of his fugue state and heads out to find chairs, stepping right off the ship and taking a stroll around town.
After a couple minutes spent walking half a kilometer or so toward the town center, he still hasn't found any chairs. He has, however, found a bunch of people who seem to be following him. They look distinctly unsavory and converse with each other in hushed whispers as Niklas walks down the street - something the chair isn't sure he likes.
In the kitchen of the Second Shank...Scott knows a good idea when he hears one - he is about to head off to find Craig immediately, but is stopped by
Morton, who seems to have something to offer.
"Wait, wait, Sir Scott, before you go could you give this glass of tea to good tailor Craig?"Scott happily takes the cup of tea and heads over to Craig, who is still in his room and currently reading a demonology book while inspecting a particular circle.
"Excuse me, good sir, but I've brought you some tea," Scott politely says to the tailor, who turns to him, looking quite surprised.
"Tea, you say? Well, thank you," he says, accepting the cup.
"In addition, I was hoping to find out if you had any porous, strong cloth. Preferably of the sort that isn't damaged by heat or water."Tailor Craig points to an orderly pile of cloth in the corner of the room.
"There's something like that in my pile, I believe - some patches of plaid fabric - don't quite remember what exactly it was, but I think it fits your criteria," he says.
"Shouldn't be hard to find if you look."He then nears the area of complete darkness that is his face to the tea, at which point fumes start rapidly rising from it, the tea slowly evaporating into his hood.
In the meantime, Morton considers bringing the other cup of tea he has ready to the Artiste - he is slightly put off by the prospect that the man is obviously still taking his nap, however.
In a house of hands...Darren has no further questions and he believes he has availed himself of the hand-person's hospitality for long enough, and thus bids the fellow adieu.
"Thank you for your help.""Always glad to help a guest. Particularly when they're the questing types. They remind me of myself when I was younger."And with that, he's off. Darren hits the streets once again, looking for the toy store. However, he does not see anything of the sort in the nearby area - it certainly doesn't help that the buildings around here are woefully unlabeled aside from cryptic pictograms that don't tell Darren very much at all. As he floats down the street confusedly, he is approached by a strange individual - a woman who appears to be... stretched out, for lack of a better word. She is about twice as tall as Darren, and she appears to be a ghost very much like him. She also has seven eyes - two in their normal places, the other five placed irregularly over her face. When they run into each other, the woman is surprised, but then smiles.
"Hello-hello!" she says cheerily, and as she does this, all seven of her eyes begin to slowly migrate toward her forehead.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 562565 times)