In the guest wing of Castle Fenton...
Niklas politely affirms that he, being a Northerner, has never in his life needed a fork or a knife in order to devour things, which suits Lifeboy just fine, and digs into the tumorsteak right in front of him, flying face-first into it and chewing in a very audible manner.
The first important fact he discovers is that this thing is delicious. Almost incredibly so. Maybe he should eat tumors more often, he thinks. Or maybe Lifeboy's just that good. Whatever the case, the food fills a hole, and Lifeboy freely joins in on the meal. The two of them manage to eventually finish the delectable tumor, at which point a profound sleepiness descends on both of them.
"Ah, time to go to bed! There is much ambassing that will probably need doing tomorrow!" he says, and shuffles off into one of the middle rooms. "Say! This room is rather decent!"
Deep, deep underground...
Feeling safe on his precipice, Kevin decides to rest to let the brokenness of his legs feel a little less painful than it is right now. So he huffs, groans and puffs as he gets into a more comfortable position, settling his broken legs as painlessly as possible. This makes the universe feel exponentially happier for the time being, so he just relaxes. This he does for a period of a few hours until something suddenly touches his legs - some sort of creature with sharp claws, it seems, making slight tapping sounds as it skitters around Kevin.
He tries to remember what the proper protocol was in this kind of situation - flipping out to get it off or remaining motionless to let it lose interest? Does anybody know? Has this happened to anyone like him before? Or is this a completely novel happening that no amount of previous life experience could have prepared him for?
At a refugee camp in Eckledun...
Scott quickly ascends upward, settling on top of a nearby tent, and regards his surroundings. For some reason, the dark refugee camp right before dawn fills him with incredible fear, partly because he can't see anything, like, there could be a frost mage hiding in a nearby tent and, guided by a diviner, she could easily freeze him into a solid block of ice, unable to move for as long as the spell is maintained, with little to no trouble at all. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. There could also be necromancers in the tents waiting to rip his soul out, or transmuters currently focusing all their willpower to transform a normally stubborn bit of ectoplasm into, say, a blanket, and then laugh as it floats helplessly down to the ground.
Morton, meanwhile, engages in a spot of persuasion.
"If we leave however, good mage Justine, we may never know more. Should we sadly find ourselves remiss of information despite our attempts, I wouldn't be opposed to another town, although I would feel rather sad for our inability to redress the refugees. We lack information, I fear, and such may be as easily gained as a pleasant conversation, or perhaps only to meet hostility instead. We wouldn't know unless we tried, and I only wish to attempt. Should our findings be fruitless, then I will not obstruct any endeavor to move on. Perhaps they just wrongly misjudge our wishes in this situation, thinking us to be simply looking for mages when we seek a remedy to this sad situation, one that they might seek as well. We've heard and guessed of their possibly suspect intentions, but we do not truly know it."
"How about this," Justine offers, "me and Scott head out to seek answers either in town or from the surroundings, while you and Craig go talk to the people in the tower?"
"I would not be against such a plan, as long as it gets at least some of us moving. Thoughts, Morton?"
In an empty room inhabited by a headless ghost...
Darren decides to cautiously back away from the approaching ghost.
"U-Uh, how you doing?" he asks, but the ghost does not reply. He keeps backing away, but the feeling of being threatened only increases, right up to the moment when something completely awful is suddenly plunged into his back, a monstrous claw of some kind, and a deathly chill runs through Darren.
[Darren's will roll: 6]
He instantly twists around, only to find nothing there. Huh. And then the headless ghost hugs him from behind, which is creepy at first, but then, as a few seconds pass, makes Darren feel a tad warm inside. Double huh.
They float like this for a few minutes, Darren being unsure how to break a hug with a person like this non-awkwardly.
In Harlan's House of Hilarity and Harlotry...
Timothy, drunk far beyond his imagining, tries to make his way toward the ghost lady, which teaches him a very vital lesson to remember - ghosts do not have balance problems no matter their inebriation. Instead, drunkenness tends to manifest as a peculiar rotation of one's body, which Timothy hardly notices as he looks upon the strangely crooked ghost lady in the equally crooked room.
[Timothy's charisma roll: 4]
Now, he's not sure what exactly he's saying right now. He's not sure the lady understands what he's saying right now. And he is not even sure if what he's saying can be understood on a verbal level. But she seems to get the idea, and giggles in a distant, spirit-like manner, then asks Timothy something he doesn't quite understand.
In the kingdom of the gnomes...
Unfamiliar with these gnomish caves, Sigmund tries to give himself some breathing room via some stone manipulation.
[Sigmund's magic roll: 5]
He extends his presence all around, and in almost a perfect sphere, the stone around him recedes, sending some gnomes tumbling down its surface from the sound of it, and even blocking pretty much all of the tunnels leading to him as the displaced stone relocates itself. This, he feels, is a marvelous success like few others. And he even manages to reinforce his pillar in the process!