On the Second Shank...
Sigmund, wary of horrible things that may happen, heads down into the cargo hold, where he finds only corpses and traces of his lovely surgeon friend's presence, namely bloody skeletal footprints. Ignoring this, he writes something else on his piece of paper - a sentence that commands reality to repel air from a certain point. It sticks to the paper, not protesting overmuch. Okay, time for magic! Sigmund thinks of a direction.
[Sigmund's magic roll: 3]
There is a minimal amount of air flow in a certain direction, but it's also accompanied by an odd rippling effect, with air distorting in various ways around the extremely mild breeze. Hm.
Somewhat higher up, Mark does the thing he likes second-best - fishing! Well, one can't say he really likes it or anything. It's more of a hobby that was forced upon him than anything. Still, he gets to kill things, albeit in a roundabout fashion, so he can't complain.
[Mark's fishing roll: 4]
He even catches three fish! Without bait, no less. Guess the blood on the harpoon attracts fish nicely enough already. Having obtained that many, he moves on with his routine sacrifices.
[Mark's sacrifice rolls: 6, 5, 3]
He dares say he's got two of the sacrificing methods down, really - Jolly Vito and Nick are easy to please. The delimbing's a bit tougher, but Mark's learning as he goes. The bleeding ritual he's pretty sure he can do reliably now, as well the heart-stabbing. And despite a whole lot of difficulty on the way, he got the last one kinda done - he supposes it counts. That leaves him with... fifty-five more? That's kind of a lot. Luckily, he should have time for that on the way.
"Great. Now he's performing unholy sacrifices on deck."
"What're those for, Mark? Good luck? Or something else?"
"Pretty sure that's not how you secure good luck."
"Can't you just divine his motives or something? You sure ask a lot of questions for somebody whose job is to know things."
"He sees things differently. I can't really process information from senses I don't have, can I?"
On a different ship altogether...
Scott, unappreciated master of japery that he is, picks up the barrel of honey and tries to look important and confident. He guesses it work - nobody stops him, and he returns to the ship a whole load of honey richer.
Outside a chair-hater's house...
Ruffled at the way he's been treated by the uneducated ruffians in this town, Niklas tries another house. He knocks on the door.
He is a little surprised when the same guy answers this door as well.
"Why must you chairs torture me so! DAMN YOU ALL!"
[Mighty Boot: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 3+1 vs. 6]
This time, Niklas is prepared! He dodges out of the way in an unlikely fashion, and the man's kick finds no purchase in the northerner's metal frame. Victory!
"Dodging me, are you? That's it! I'm going to twist you into a pretzel for that!" the man shouts angrily. He looks quite pissed off now, his eyes bugging out and his muscles becoming tense. He then pulls a small hammer from his belt, looking ready to put it to use.
In an artifact weapon-pet store...
Darren supposes that's the best explanation he's likely to get, and rolls with it.
"Ah, of course. Why would I expect anything different?"
He then browses the store's available pets, looking for something that is small, adorable and likely to mislead people into thinking it's not made of weaponry so dangerous it could kill pretty much anyone fifteen times over in under a minute.
Unfortunately, though there are indeed small things in this store, like some kind of monkey-thing constructed from delicately assembled knives, a centipede made of spiked chains and a four-legged (the legs seem to be glowing nunchucks) gem-encrusted tube, they are all distinctly worrying in appearance. Maybe because they don't have eyes that Darren can see. In fact, aside from weapons poking out from various places, the pets are all entirely featureless as well as completely unmoving.
"Don't be shy! Pet one! They like it!"
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 563859 times)