In the cargo hold of the Second Shank...
Sigmund, after successfully sorting out the focus failures and removing them from his sight, goes about the writing of spells into the good ones. 'Make wind flow at a constant rate determined by the user in the direction the user is thinking of.' he writes on the first one... and the ink evaporates. Damn it. He puts the piece of uncooperative paper away. Okay, next one. He quickly writes the sentence 'Stop air flow in the area the user is thinking of.' on the next focus.
The focus responds by suddenly catching on fire and promptly disintegrating in Sigmund's hands. This is also quite distressing. He takes the next focus, hoping that it'll like 'Funnel air into the point the user is thinking of.' better. And it does, taking to the paper wonderfully. Feeling like his luck is turning around, he writes 'Repel air from the point the user is thinking of.', which also seems to take nicely at first, but then Sigmund notices something unusual - the letters seem to shift a little, and the spell changes into 'Repel air from the point some guy thought of.', though how significant the change is, he doesn't know. Okay, last one. He writes 'Concentrate air in front of the user's right index finger, then blast is away in the direction the finger is pointing at.' on another focus, and is quite disappointed when that disintegrates as well.
Yeah, it's probably a better idea to write the spells on foci beforehand, he thinks. That's two (with certain leniency, mind you) usable foci out of 5 successes of an initial 10 sheets of paper. Definitely not the most efficient process.
On the deck of the Second Shank...
Niklas, petitioned by his son to teach the art of the war throat-chant, does so happily.
[Niklas pedagogy roll: 2]
Torkel, however, isn't the best student. He doesn't have the lungs for it, clearly. Or the ability to create polyphonic vocal-instrumental music all by himself. As a result, they do not get very far in practice. Torkel, though he means well, does not have much in the way of talent, Niklas thinks. Now he wonders how best to break the news to the poor kid.
Just then, though, the spooky disembodied head of Scott pops up from the deck. My, he's changed a lot since the last time Niklas saw him.
"Yee-hehee-hehee-hehee!" he giggles shrilly and girlishly, hoping to mildly, but not overly frighten his master. He succeeds in drawing a look from the guy, as well as his new companion. And Justine and Evelyn as well. Even Erin looks his way, though she's drunk enough that she doesn't quite process what exactly she's seeing.
"The hell is that?"
"Scott. He seems to be a ghost now."
"Khrktss."
"That's Scott? Really? It looks like... something's missing... can't really put my finger on it..."
"Perhaps the fact that he's a disembodied head."
"Oh. Yeah... that's true."
"You all seem to be forgetting an important fact."
"What's that?"
"Scott's back! You know what that means?"
"A party to celebrate his partial return?"
"No. No, no, no. No. It means that we can get moving! WE CAN GET MOVING! AT LAST!"
"Maybe you-"
"No! No distractions! Nobody move, I'm off to find the Captain!"
With that, the Artiste, looking altogether too excited for his own good, runs down the stairs leading below decks. The guest-person is the first to break the silence after he leaves.
"He seems a bit intense, doesn't he?"
In the den of the Second Shank...
Morton is edging closer to his glorious destiny with every passing moment, the ability to become a true master of tea.
"Thank you, I'll certainly ask. Before I do however, I have another, quite unrelated, question. A while back, when you helped me evade that strange man by means of acting, you mentioned it felt good getting back in character. No offense meant, but you didn't quite strike me as the type to take interest in such an interesting field. I must admit myself being a fan of such myself, back during my first chance at life. Were you formally taught perhaps?"
"Heh, no. It's from when I was an exorcist. My favorite part of the job was hamming it up. Mostly when people call for an exorcist, they don't really need one, and that's when you need to get creative with your routine. You can have all the necromantic credentials you need, but most important is that you look important, act dramatic and mystical and come up with good-sounding reasons for every silly thing you do. Too bad I only started doing amateur theater on my last year in uni - now that was real fun. I frequently got to do female roles, actually. We even had a production where all the male characters were played by women and the female roles went to men. Ah, the memories."
For a moment, Art looks quite wistful, but this moment is interrupted by the Artiste sprinting through the door suddenly, looking highly tense.
"Where's the Captain?"
"Why, RIGHT HERE!" comes the Captain's voice from the far wall. "Do you REQUIRE ANYTHING?"
"That's the Captain?" Lizzie asks, but the Artiste ignores her.
"Captain, everyone's present. Let's get moving. Right now. Before everyone gets lost again."
"Ah, SPLENDID! There IS a LITTLE PROBLEM, though."
The Artiste sighs.
"Yes. Of course. What is it?"
"ALL MY CREW'S GONE! They DON'T like the SHIP'S NEW LAYOUT. Or the WAY I LOOK NOW!"
"Can't the ship move without them?"
"Well, I SUPPOSE I COULD move it MYSELF, but it WOULD BE DIFFICULT!"
Suddenly, Lizzie pipes up again.
"Is your crew made up of ghosts?"
The Captain, not having noticed Lizzie beforehand, bows gracefully to her.
"YES, MILADY! Though THEY prefer the term RESTLESS SPIRITS! Or PREFERRED, at any rate! Now they've MUTINIED and GONE WHEREVER! And I FOUND THIS OUT FROM MY THIRD NAVIGATOR! He wasn't EVEN ON THE SHIP when WE ALL DIED!"
"If you want, I suppose I could lend you some of my own captured souls."
"You have captured souls?"
"Thousands, actually. And I'm getting more by the day. You don't need more than fifty, right?"
"... can you spare that many?"
"I'd hardly even notice the drain! I have too many as it is, anyway!" Lizzie says with a dismissive gesture.
"It would BE MOST KIND OF YOU, milady! How COULD WE POSSIBLY RETURN the FAVOR?"
Lizzie just laughs, glancing at Kevin.
"I will think of something, don't you worry. Do you want them right now?"
"WELL-"
"Yes, that would be preferable, thank you."
Lizzie shrugs, lifting her skeletal hand up. A soft hum fills the room, along with what sound like low, lilting whispers. The walls light up in places, then the glow subsides.
"There, that was... a bit less that sixty, actually. A bit more than intended, but some people just don't want to be separated, I guess. Silly families."
She then points her raised hand at the Captain.
"Now THAT is a STRANGE FEELING!"
"Eh, just a specific binding. Now, if your new crew disobeys you, they will experience... unpleasant sensations, shall we say. They are yours to command, at any rate."
"AH, I SEE! NEW METHODS, eh?"
"Not really. That one's pretty basic, honestly. Anyhow, you're welcome."
"OF COURSE! THANK YOU! Your KINDNESS is only exceeded by your GENEROSITY!"
"Thank you kindly. Now, Captain, can we move out?"
"... YES? Let me TRY SOMETHING."
The Captain clears his throat, then speaks in a commanding chorus of voices.
"CREW! PUT THE SHIP IN MOTION OUT TO SEA!"
The ship begins to sway to and fro oddly, moving in a certain direction.
"Uh... THAT'S THE WRONG WAY! CREW! REPORT TO ME ON DECK!" the Captain shouts, then begins to ascend through the ceiling. He's gone in a second. However, suddenly his head pops back in.
"Just a MOMENT, I will NEED TO FAMILIARIZE the crew with HOW WE DO THINGS HERE!"
"Well, as long as things are going somewhere. You have no idea how bored I am right now."
"Of COURSE! And THANK YOU AGAIN, milady!"
"You're very welcome again, sir," Lizzy replies, waving to the Captain as he disappears. She then turns to Kevin. "So, where were we?"
The Artiste, meanwhile, steps over to a vacant chair and almost literally sinks into it, exhaling more air in a single sigh than anybody who looked his way thought possible.
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564002 times)