Inside the Webbed Toe...Mark, knowing full well how his companions love to get themselves into extremely time-consuming trouble, tries to retrieve
Kevin and leave as quickly as possible. As he runs toward the table, Kevin, the jester turns and waves at him, speaking to his new friends.
"That skeleton guy is Mark, he's kind of an asshat and tries to dismember you then put you back together. That chair is probably Niklas, he can cook pretty well.""An asshat, you say?""He seems quite intent on coming over here to greet us, though."In moments, Mark is right next to Kevin, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Hey, I'm just having some fun! It's not because you can't talk that I can't talk with these people!"Not listening to this crap, Mark tries to pull the drunken jester away from what to him must be absolutely charming company. However, he finds the jester to be peculiarly immovable - no effort of strength seems to have any effect on his location, strangely enough.
"Excuse me, good sir, but did you not hear the man? He clearly wishes to stay here, no?""Unless you really do have to go, Kevin. Do you have any urgent business, perhaps?"Niklas, for his part, acts as civilized as you can expect him to in the situation.
"*rabid growling*"[Opposed strength: Niklas vs. Mark: 5 vs. 3]
He then extricates himself from Mark's grip and seeks non-flying chairs to use and abuse in the name of revenge. Luckily, there's one right in front of him - he grabs hold of it. At that same moment, the chair is grabbed hold of by something else - magic!
[Niklas' strength vs. Mage-Hand 2's telekinesis: 6 vs. 4+1]
Though the pull is strong, Niklas is stronger! He growls and nearly barks as he pulls the chair away, going for the exit. The rainbow-robed woman glares at him.
"Do not steal my ammunition, chair," she warns him before getting distracted by another projectile launched by her opponent.
Before marching out, though, Niklas realizes he has no new companions and only one new chair - definitely not a great advantage when dealing with a man possessed of a monomaniacal tendency to destroy chairs. Hm. Perhaps some strategy is required.
On the deck of the Second Shank...Sigmund agrees that needle and thread could probably work if he wants to bind together a spellbook. Erin nods and proceeds to magic away.
[Erin's magic roll: 1]
As she waves her hand in an arcane fashion, though, all that materializes with the sound of rushing air is some manner of metallic sea urchin, or at least that's what it looks like to Sigmund.
"Uh... what? How'd that happen?"In the waters below the Second Shank...Scott, figuring his chances are pretty good against a lobster that size, tries to restrain the lobster.
[Grapple: Scott vs. Lobster: 6 vs. 6+
1-
1]
It almost works as he dives at the thing, but the carapace of the creature proves too slippery to get a grip on, and the lobster slips out of his grasp, swimming away at first, then beginning to circle Scott at a rather significant distance. This gives Scott the distinct impression that his new predator-prey relationship may have been... slightly redefined, a perception that is aided by the short look he got at the lobster's claws - they looked pretty dang dangerous, honestly.
In artifact weapon-pet store...Darren, though disturbed by the way everybody around here except some nice hand-creatures is completely insane, continues to play out his routine.
"Yes, I know. It would be quite a future, this bolt-bunny and I. However, I simply have no money. No job, no home, and no way to care for such a precious creature. As much as it hurts me, I cannot purchase it in good conscience while there are so many more stable and prosperous owners for the little darling."The lady doesn't really take it well.
"No! There are no other owners! There is nobody else! You must buy one!" she says, the tone of her voice rising. In her multitude of eyes Darren can actually spot some tears.
Uh, well... maybe he could get one, really. There couldn't be that much harm in it, right?
"... okay then, I suppose I will get one, then."The pet shop woman, extending her hand with a grim expression, makes a familiar request.
"500 quicksilvers, please," she says with a distinct undertone of desperation.
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 563711 times)