In the Temple of Automaton Worship...
Darren just keeps on looking for artifacts, unmindful of any other distractions - he's got holy quests to accomplish! And after a bit of searching, he does find a very nice-looking crown decorated in golden flowers! It even glows with a mildly unholy light, so he guesses this must be what he's looking for - it's pretty well-hidden, too - he had to rip out a very sizable panel off a wall to get a good look at it.
Now the question is what he's supposed to do with it, he guesses.
"Ah! You've found that thing, I see. Is that what you were looking for?" the statue asks while Darren's friend looks on slightly dejectedly.
In the Red Tower of Power...
Niklas, guessing that he must fall back on good manners now as a last resort, writes out a less forceful message some distance away from his last one.
REPAIR CURRENT BODY WILL GIVE FOOD FOR HELP it says, and this does seem to attract some attention, and a rather small and tubby child with a manic look in his eyes eventually stops to look at the words.
"Ah! Food! What sort of food?" he asks of Niklas.
In the streets of Mothdale...
Kevin is most distressed by his current state, especially by the way he seems to be burning.
"AAAAAAAAAAA GET IT OFF ME!" he shrieks, grasping desperately for something to clean himself with. Unfortunately, no clothes can be found, and his only solution is to grab his good buddy Mark, who seems to be trying to learn how to play three instruments at once, and try to rub as much of the jellied innards off him as possible. This proves mostly successful, and he gets off quite a bit of the corrosive gore off all sensitive membranes and exposed skin, though this does come at the expense of Mark's investigative efforts and general comfort. To say nothing of the smell, obviously.
Sigmund, meanwhile, explains things nobody seems to care about.
"The Gub just told me that we only need the knowledge of the mages. This means that we are perfectly able to destroy their foci and capture their souls to do so, negating all their possibilities of doing magic," he says, turning to Art. "This means that we will probably need your help for that task."
"Yeah, I guess I could help," Art says.
And just as a plan is settling in Sigmund's mind, all four of the present people hear the voice of the gub in their heads, sounding fairly urgent this time.
~we are interrupting your idleness to inform you that a detachment of up to thirty ravenous nicedogs hungering for human flesh may or may not have been dispatched to your location in order to facilitate progress and movement! we hear they have a reasonably good sense of smell, can chew through steel with effort and consistently run at speeds approaching 70 kilometers per hour, and are capable of 4-meter vertical jumps! thank you for your time!~
"... maybe we should get going, guys?" Art offers.
At Tailor Craig's improvised workshop...
"Empathy was the wrong word, I meant sympathy," Scott says to the gub to clear up any misunderstanding.
~we have very much sympathy for people and creatures of our fold and outside! the problem is simply that today is not a very good day! today seems to be more the sort of day when we wish to destroy all that is not gub! our patience is tenuous indeed, one might say! so we would appreciate it if you tried to be quieter so that we are not tempted to lash out at you for issues you had little part in causing! this is agreeable, we know this, and will result in no injuries whatsoever for you!~
Hm. The gub does not seem to be in the best of moods somehow. Morton, meanwhile, is chatty and in good spirits as usual.
"I'd be delighted and most grateful, good tailor Craig, and I'm happy to hear you enjoy my tea, I promise to try my best on the next brew. Traveling is always much more entertaining when in good company All that's left now would be to retrieve my supplies and then we'll be good to travel, I believe. I can't very well make tea without supplies, after all. Now, I believe I was at the docks prior to this, so my old form should still be there as well, with my old stuff, should fortune prevail," he says to Tailor Craig. "It should hopefully be a short trip to recover my old items, I admit I'm sadly not aware how far the next town may be, so we could wind up traveling for a while. If you wish you can accompany me to my old form, or I can fetch them myself as you secure your belongings. Good group Gub takes good care of the town, but I'm told it is most wise to be prepared."
"Oh, my belongings should be all right if I leave them here. I have little of true importance to carry that I do not already have on my person at all times," the tailor says, snatching up a few choice fabrics and stashing them in his robe as he speaks. "Shall we go?" he asks of the desk, and Morton supposes that they probably could, so they do! They head off into the city, followed by Scott, and eventually wind up at the site of Morton's remains - fortunately, they are largely untouched, though the fact that Surgeon Mark's body lies not too far away is slightly more disconcerting.
In any case, Morton recovers his old equipment - his tea supplies, a few unbroken flasks, the hateful tree branch and even a small teapot. What's more, he also discovers that his storage space is quite expansive indeed - though he still has three drawers, each of those seem to hold much more than one would expect from just looking at them - indeed, each drawer, when fully pulled out of his body, seems to be about the size of a filing cabinet, complete with a number of subdrawers that Morton finds more than a bit implausible. But it seems to work, so he guesses it's all good.
Also, just as he begins to ponder the ramifications of his new storage space, he becomes aware of a new presence in his vicinity! A familiar presence, no less - it is the ghost of none other than Justine, the most forgotten of all acquaintances. She looks rather frustrated right now.
"Finally found you lot. You're more difficult to keep track of than one might suspect, what with all the soul-swapping going on," she says. "You're off to do abductions as well, unless I've missed my mark," she then asks, no trace of a question in her words.