Outside the town of Eckledun...
Sigmund, after narrowly averting an attempt by Kevin to play some music, takes the group, inexpertly bongoing Mark included, out to the camps dotting the outside of the town.
Much to Sigmund's disappointment, there seem to be exactly zero plagues currently in progress (not that plagues or epidemics are particularly common these days, what with the advent of life magic), though many of the people here look slightly disenfranchised and weather-beaten. It's fairly clear that they're refugees of some sort, and relatively fresh ones at that. On a side note, it's been far too long since he has last evaluated a human being in terms of their freshness, Sigmund notes.
There seem to be quite a lot of tents and wagons around the place - the refugee camps are about the size of half the town, at a conservative estimate made from a less than optimal perspective. And, as luck would have it, Sigmund and company manage to come across a particular tent - they realize that it is actually a particular and not generic tent mostly from the fact that it has a sign out front - it says "Goods & Healing", and just as the group directs its eyes toward the entrance, a rather joyful, healthy and well-supplied peasant wanders out of the place, passing the group while whistling a tune for what Sigmund suspects might be a drinking song.
Still in Mothdale...
Scott begins to not-so-gently nudge Morton toward his tailor-friend when the desk seems to conclude his negotiations.
"With that business thankfully taken care of, I believe now would be a good time to move on to the next city. Following the road should lead us to one in short order, hopefully. Good mage Justine, I would be quite happy if you were to accompany us, but I understand if you perhaps have other matters you wish to attend to," he tells Justine.
"I guess I'll follow you. Time away from the gub will do me a lot of good," she says, shivering. Guess Morton and friends can leave now! So they head out northwest, eventually coming to the road that seems to lead them along the coast of the Sea of Death - no doubt many hardened men and women of magic will be found along this path!
~it is wonderful that you did not choose the wrong direction, morton!~
"Shame I can't sense magic that far away. Could save us a trip, maybe."
~trust us when we say that you do not want to take the other western road out! if only because your criminal friends already wandered down that one, if nothing else!~
At the Temple of Automaton Worship...
Darren, after sighing with resignation, decides to try and make the experience to follow at least not completely unpalatable.
"Something... feminine. Like, a woman. That's a good one," he says to his friend.
"Well, aren't we picky?" he laughs, and his ectoplasmic flesh twists a bit, creating a vague dark silhouette, or perhaps a shadow, of a mildly feminine figure. "Something like this?"