In a system of pipes...
Kevin, knowing no better way to go than up, as well as slightly mistrustful of slashed-open holes, climbs upward.
[Kevin's strength roll: 1]
It is, however, an entirely wasted effort - pushing his back against the pipe and using his limbs to sort of slide upward does not work at all, primarily because of Kevin's new body not having nearly the appropriate strength and endurance of limbs to do such a thing. As he topples downward, a jagged piece of metal slices into his leg, though not very deeply, fortunately. It's bleeding a little now, which Kevin suspects may be a bit of a problem in a place like this.
In a strange chamber of some kind...
As Sigmund waits for the inevitable shoe to drop on the prospects of his future existence and examines the knots of the things around him - very boring knots, he might add, he senses a presence nearby - a nonmagical creature, with a regular knot - more than this he cannot say about it, least of all because the creature's first move is to remove both of his legs in a barely heard set of motions. The stumps don't seem to bleed at all, strangely, though the instant of horrible pain is there indeed. And though this is no doubt quite a harrowing experience, Sigmund now starts to feel something else - the intent of the movements, the style of the gnome's work, it evokes memories. Bad memories. Sigmund sighs nervously, knowing that this is quite possibly the worst sign he's had all day.
But then something unexpected happens. Though his legs are separated from the rest of his body, Sigmund finds that he can still feel them somehow. And even move them! It's a shocking moment for him, to tell the truth, as he senses his legs still wiggle, unusually free in their movements, the disconnection between them and the rest of his body still plainly apparent. The gnome seems to have been taken aback by this as well, pausing for a moment to consider the legs. But only for a moment.
Immediately, Sigmund feels one of his legs become unshackled and taken away by two clawed arms, then placed in what feels like a box - even at this distance, the limb functions perfectly well. The gnome then takes the other limb and, upon regarding it for a moment, holds it down with two arms while another two begin working on it, tearing skin and rending muscle, whittling something out of it extremely painfully, bits of flesh landing all around it. And though many bits are separated from one another, little chunks of flesh landing around the rough stone floor, Sigmund notes that he retains awareness in each piece. And even some limited motion, judging by the way they seem to twitch occasionally.
The gnome, rather more sizable than the other ones as far as Sigmund can tell, upon swiftly butchering the leg up to a certain point, seems to pause again, its clawed arms tapping against bits of exposed bone in the mutilated limb.
At the guest wing of the Castle Fenton...
Niklas explains politely that no offense was meant.
"Didn't hear anything else, so I believed that was your name. Thank you for escorting me to my chambers, Mr. Hewell," and Mr. Hewell seems most appreciative.
"You're very much welcome," he says, smiling at him weakly, then promptly leaving. As soon as he's gone, Lifeboy comes alive once more.
"What a depressing man! Anyhow, dibs on the room to the right!" he says, and immediately disappears into one of the furthest guest room to the right. Niklas, having been pointed the other way, steps into the furthest room on the left, and basks in the glory of his new quarters.
Unfortunately, they are less glorious than one might expect - there's a bed, or, rather, a mattress, since there's no sheets, no blanket and no pillow, a mirror and a washbasin. And a wardrobe with nothing in it, plus a nightstand. A bit bare, all in all, an effect enhanced by the spacious nature of it all.
In the company of a confused bard...
Scott believes it may be time to hand off the conversational torch to Morton, who is doubtlessly more prepared to suffer fools, given that his entire existence so far has involved it to some degree.
"Morton, I will give you one chance to get this fool to be coherent and pliable before I lose my temper."
But he need worry not, as Morton has already prepared words for the occasion. Getting the bard's attention, he speaks.
"I believe this all to be a vast and unfortunate misunderstanding, good traveler, and I must urge all sides to please calm," he says, raising a palm in a gesture of cessation. "Please, good traveler, I beg of you to not think me rude but I must ask you to listen to the full of what I say before replying. I'm afraid we are no aspects, nor apparitions, no shades, nor demons of any sort, simply travelers. We weren't summoned, but have been on our way to Eckledun, striking off through the wild for brevity. But regardless of what ritual you have committed, it seems fate is fitting. I apologize that we may not be able to directly assist you in returning your beloved to you, but perhaps we were meant to speak," he says, motioning for the bard to sit down, which he does not for some reason, while settling lower himself. "I do not question your devotion, good traveler, nor the means you may wish to seek reunification, as I'm familiar with separation. What my companion, good sir Scott, spoke of is that he has been witness and even a participant to an event you are asking us. You see, he perished before his lover, who brought him back in undeath to seek his presence once more. Time has passed though. Good sir Scott once had a body, a home, and a spouse. His lover gone, he (along with the others in his home) were to move onwards at the beckoning and bindings of another, adrift. Time has not worn him, nor any involved, well. The world is cruel like that, I'm afraid, and death is not one to be cheated of its dues without marks."
He offers the rose back to the bard, who takes it back immediately.
"I fear this situation may not differ. Good sir Scott was miss Emily once, and miss Emily may become good sir Scott. As I've said before, good traveler, I do not question your devotion, nor how you may seek miss Emily, but I ask you to listen. Be past events different, I would be in your shoes and attempting the same and I cannot say if I would listen to myself. It's a hard thing I ask. I apologize that we were not who you seek, and that you had to endure my rambling. Perhaps afterwards we can participate in calmer conversation of a happier note, maybe with some tea?"
The bard is silent, examining the rose for a moment, then looking back at Morton, then at Scott.
"Short version is, let the dead stay dead, because the dead being alive is much worse," Justine adds, slightly diminishing the polite tone.
Another moment of silence.
"Hm... well, bugger," the bard mutters to himself. "Guess there's nothing for it, then."
He immediately takes off at a quick run, making good time on an unexpected escape.
"He doesn't seem very convinced," Tailor Craig observes calmly. "Though I do suppose I wouldn't be, either, in his position."
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 564167 times)