At the shipwreck-rich beach of Mothdale...
Sigmund decides that he'll try to run, thank you very much. Being vaguely amorously harassed by Scott is exactly the opposite of what he would consider a good thing. Really, he can't think of anything he would enjoy less right now, though that may be a mere side effect of Scott's general nearness.
A few steps in, Sigmund realizes that he truly does seem to lack the mental capacity to control eleven legs at once, and immediately falls over on his belly, flapping his wings wildly as he rolls around on the ground in panic. Why does everything have to suck so much, he wonders. Why does this always happen to him? And why does everything backfire worst when he asks for help rather than passively receives it? And why didn't his surgeon tormentor give him any hands to strangle people and grab things with?
None of this is made any better by Scott, who continues bothering Sigmund without pause.
"So...what's it like being the most wonderful thing alive? I am sure you will come to accept and love your new form as much as I do!" he says, then pauses as he realizes that Sigmund appears to be unable to walk around with his sheer number of legs. "Say, I know how to fix that problem of yours! You need to try and run around some more! It'll come to you eventually, you'll see!"
Mark, who is nearby and quite done basking in his glory, asks the gub where to find Evelyn and insists that he might be able to help her with whatever she is doing.
~we disagree! you are strictly forbidden to communicate with Evelyn as she is communicating with us presently! telling us secrets too arcane for us to merely fish out of her mind!~
In a temple of Velusius...
Kevin, after shaking his fist at that whippersnapper priest for scurrying off before he could punch his smug mug intensely and repeatedly, decides he has no other recourse but to sing.
[Kevin's vocal performance roll: 5]
He finds that the acoustics in the temple hall are quite exquisite, so he gives it his best, singing his heart out in the middle of the temple. As he sings, though, things fail to happen. Nobody seems to care at all. Is there anyone even still here to listen to him?
In a somewhat empty room...
Niklas is in possession of what seems to be several tons of mulch, and yet he doesn't really remember what he needed it for. Hm. Where is he, anyway? Some kind of room, it looks like, with no exits, but a good amount of light despite the lack of any windows. Aside from the mulch, no organic things seem to be present. At a loss on what would be expected from him in these circumstances, he prays... to a god of water, he guesses? Who is the god of water, anyway? Pacitarius, maybe? Yeah, he'll work. Niklas prays to Pacitarius, but nothing much seems to happen. Guess the gods don't feel like rewarding him with a massive pool of water or whatever. So Niklas instead jumps into the mulch and tries to exude all his frustration - better out than in, his mother always said. And she was the most famous projectile vomiter in quite a wide area, at least within a three village radius in any given direction, so her expertise is the most trustworthy on the situation that Niklas currently recalls.
Some time later, he realizes he doesn't feel too frustrated anymore. He's all out of frustration, in fact. Now he just seems to be filled with bemused acceptance of his circumstances.
At the Dancing Fly...
Morton thinks this cleaning job will suffice - the tavern certainly has experienced a lot of improvement, anyway.
~Does this suffice, good group Gub?~
~in terms of cleaning, yes! we would like to convert this place into a tea house! you can run it!~
Um... well.
~If you could, I'd like to go check on the ship. While the tea has most likely gone bad by now, quite a tragic event, it would be nice to regain my tools and attempt again. Perhaps I could pick up something that the others wish from the ship while I'm there, if you could please ask them? Assuming they're not currently busy, of course, I wouldn't wish to bother them.~
~certainly! we shall show you the way!~
And they do - after trundling through the streets and passing a whole lot of vacant-looking people, Morton eventually reaches the ship he knows and enjoys - it seems entirely unharmed, and is tied securely to one of the numerous, though mostly empty piers of Mothdale. A quick check of the ship reveals that everything on it has basically gone untouched since the crew all had to take their leave under the gub's influence. His enchanted tea has gone visibly stale, however.
~the enchanted tea! your expertise on the matter was very important, morton! we are about to start enchanting things ourselves, in fact! any requests before we begin chanting?~