On a stone terrace...
Kevin, guessing Lizzie isn't so good at taking hints, tries to tell her that he can't really communicate through interpretive dance through the means currently available to him - interpretive dance!
[Kevin's interpretive dance roll: 6]
His first move is to artistically flop to the ground, his hands closing in quickly around his throat, and on the stony floor of the terrace he thusly gyrates, conveying the unspeakable torment of speechlessness and needing to explain to everyone else from now on how he can't actually speak and how problematic it is to explain speech while you are personally incapable of it. Then again, at least Kevin gets to practice his interpretive dance skills, so maybe speechlessness isn't so bad, the realization of which makes his dance a little more confused than is strictly necessary.
"I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something, but-" Lizzie begins, but then seems to get the point already, at which point she facepalms visibly, but soundlessly. "You can't speak. I'm an idiot," she states, shaking her head. A moment later, her voice is in Kevin's head.
~Is this better? What happened to you?~
In a barracks area of some kind...
Niklas, feeling the need to become free more acutely than ever, tries to thrash about. Sadly, it seems that his shape is kept the way it is by some supernatural force - a force that is entirely beyond his control right now, it appears.
At least the rest of the people seem to be getting it together - the armored, sweating guy from earlier has arrived, and seems to be taking stock of the situation. He speaks with the rest for a moment, then quickly leaves. Minutes pass like hours, and soon the floating fat lady arrives, examining the absence of the room above with a small measure of annoyance mixed with what looks like amusement. She examines the chair statue in front of her for a moment, then raises one sausage-like finger at it. Pieces of stone begin to slowly peel off Niklas as a result.
In a basement of a familiar house...
Scott can't resist the lure of a well-made puzzle box. It's practically begging to be solved! He concentrates on the thing and tries to move some of the articulated parts.
[Scott's telekinesis roll: 6]
In doing so, he rather overestimates the mechanisms durability, accidentally yanking out a rather sizable bit and exposing part of the inside of the mechanism - the whole thing looks a bit broken now, and further attempts to manipulate it only seem to make things worse. The box seems rather ruined now, and bits of polished wood and metal parts now seem to be on the ground. Interestingly, the center of the thing appears to be glowing oddly.
On the Second Shank...
Morton, who really does hate leaving a job half-done, tries to finish up this enchantment and get himself to heal properly. After all, when you've geared your entire mind toward this sort of thing, you might as well do whatever you were going to do as best you were able - he finds it unlikely that he'll have several hours of free time later, anyway. Concentrating on his mental image, he tries to bring himself in sync with it once more.
[Morton's enchantment roll: 1]
As he exerts his will again, however, something seems to go wrong - whether it is his resolve weakening or the effects of the chant wearing off, he can't tell, but, rather than bringing the images in his mind and the reality closer together, the differences become amplified instead - his body is weak and fragile, and it shall never attain an ideal shape, the doubt in his mind goes, and Morton, for a split second, accidentally focuses on it, and things go downhill from there. The idea of healing fades completely from his mind, and suddenly he is there, on the ship, feeling cold, empty and alone - he isn't sure how he realized this, but Morton now knows one thing - he is weakening. He is dying. And he doesn't know if anyone can help him.
In the streets of Mothdale...
Sigmund continues his trek through the city, abandoning prospects of tower exploration for now. This time, he approaches the Doom Strait, hoping to divine more about the gub from its waters. A preliminary examination reveals that it is indeed water he is looking at - it is a little difficult to say more about it without rolling inside, and whether that's a good idea is certainly something up for quite a bit of debate.
Elsewhere, Mark thinks that now is the best time for breaking out his finest moves, he runs up to the guy and joins in on the dancing.
[Danceoff: Mark vs. Dancing Man: 5 vs. 4]
And his best moves are impressive indeed - though the fearful, sweating man next to him does his very best in trying to imitate him, he is a little slow on the rhythm, and clearly doesn't have the requisite practice necessary to keep up choreographically with someone made of metal and possessed of amazing dexterity. The dolphins seem to notice this as well, and set upon Mark's inferior, who, while he valiantly punches two assailants, is mercilessly bitten by the other three, and tries to retreat while bleeding more than is strictly healthy for a man his age. When he tries to retreat, the dolphins begin to hiss and flop menacingly, which seems to cow the fellow sufficiently for him to resume dancing, though it looks like his wounds have given him quite the handicap.
In the streets of the engineers' quarter of the City of the Dead...
Darren tries to salvage his sales pitch from the initial hit that one kid knowing what he's talking about gave it.
"Yes, it's true that the pets are a little unusual, and it's true that the owner is a little unusual, but she just wants a home for the little critters. They just want a home. You folks, automatons, seem like the sort that would do well with them."
"What kind of pets are they? And I do object to you calling us automatons. It's disrespectful. We're citizens, you know!"
"My mom said she's dangerous, Mr. Street Performer! And my mom doesn't lie to me, I think."
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 557390 times)