In the streets of Shriekpot...
Niklas, seeing that opportunity has presented itself to him, tries to take control of the chair! Unfortunately, though, nothing at all happens. He can't reach out to the chair at all, it seems like. The man does not even notice the attempt.
[Grapple: Chair-Hater vs. Niklas: 1+1 vs. 6]
He does, however, try to back up, which results in him tripping over the unexpected chair right behind him, which results in him tumbling backward, inadvertently releasing Niklas in the process.
"I can't live like this! It's driving me insane!" he shouts as he rolls away and gets to his feet. He then gives the offending chair, the one that seems to have interrupted his hate crimes against chairkind, something that is best described as a death glare. Niklas briefly wonders whether this is a good time to run.
Not too far away, Kevin enters the Webbed Toe - his suspicions are confirmed as he notices tankards, chairs and tables flying about inside the place. What is much, much stranger is that there are only four people inside - all others have evidently fled. They seem to be the cause of the ruckus - two young women in particular seem to be duking it out while using the rest of the tavern as improvised weaponry while a rather strangely painted man and an exquisitely-clothed golden skeleton with brightly-glowing eyes sit at one of the tables further away from the center of the hall, sipping wine and making merry conversation. What's more, the two fighters seem to be using telekinesis.
"Take it back!" one of the combatants, a rotund, red-faced young lady in an extremely expensive-looking dress shouts at her opponent, a tall, pale, raven-haired young woman with a conspicuously long face and a rainbow-colored robe.
"But it is, isn't it? Jane herself said so!" the rainbow-robed woman shouts back. None of them seem to have noticed Kevin yet, and he can't help but wonder if it'd be a good idea to attract their attention. He can't really tell if Niklas is in the pandemonium going on in the middle of the room, but if he is, he would probably require saving, yes.
On the deck of the Second Shank...
Mark, though a little distraught by the way this turn of events will impact his fishing prospects, knows the value of positive thinking. Explosions mean victims, and victims mean medicine! Some would say that medicine in turn means even more victims, but those people are naysayers and must not be listened to by gentlemen of class and medical competence. Mark excitedly runs downstairs, goes right past Art and Tailor Craig, moves right through the Captain and finally finds himself next to Sigmund. So it is time for them to tango once again, it seems.
"Why on earth does someone carry an explosive thing with them all the time? It is not even useful for killing other people when you have to open it, damaging yourself in the attempt to use it against someone. Damn, which kind of stupid people live in this city?" Sigmund rants, wondering why all the people that get killed here are poopy-brained dunderheads that insist on trying to get him killed as well. As he reflects on this incompetence on the part of somebody that is definitely not him, he notices the looming shadow of Mark's tree growing larger near him. He turns to face the skeleton with as much bravery and flippancy as he can muster.
"Oh, no, I just have pieces of metal in my body, there is no need to become an abomination here, so you are free to go. But I think that I will need some help to at least pull this shrapnel from my hands, so that in turn I can do the same with the rest of my body on my own."
This is something Mark is not entirely satisfied with, but he guesses he has to enjoy whatever work comes to him, really.
[Mark's "medicine" roll: 4+1]
He quickly and easily removes all bits of shrapnel from Sigmund's body. His unblinking gaze briefly rests on the superfluous bits of flesh on Sigmund's body - there is a slight temptation to do something about all of that, to be honest, but Mark decides it best not to pursue such ambitions for now. He sadly concludes the operation by sealing up all new holes in Sigmund, hoping that the trust engendered by the highly predictable, plebeian acts of so-called medicine will serve to bring repeat customers in the future - and when that comes, he can really cut loose.
At the docks of Shriekpot...
Scott, having found out what he needs, quickly flops into the ocean. This is rather effective at extinguishing the fire on his hand, and the water is nice and icy this time of year.
Now there's only the question of getting out!
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 563703 times)