In a terrible, terrible mess...
Sigmund goes from progress to damage control so quickly, one could hardly believe he had faith in his initial success in the first place, really. Of course unlife would not suddenly become easy for him. Why would it? The gods hate him, his comrades are probably dead somewhere, and his ability to warp reality has just crapped out in a big way. But perhaps he can fix this! He attempts to contain the rapidly spiraling mess that seems to be increasing in size, and introduces a knot to the mix to stabilize the thing.
It immediately unravels, of course, but it seems to mildly interfere with the general unraveling for a very short bit. Clearly this is the way forward! Or it would be, if not for the troubling way the mess he's made were willing to wait for a more organized and methodical approach. Instead it simply starts to shuffle off away from Sigmund at an astoundingly quick rate, its messed up knots orienting in a single direction, though its frayed strands thrash around wildly. Huh. Seems like it's got other plans it needs to attend to. Perhaps that's for the best, really.
Outside the Purging Crab...
Accompanied by fanfare as the one beast band stays still after a little poking, prodding and not a little kicking, Mark hands a note explaining his current situation to his good friend Morton, who accepts it readily and reads it immediately, with Tailor Craig looking over his surface to see as well.
"Good surgeon Mark? That's you? Oh, joyous to see you! I must admit I'm surprised, I thought our groups had headed quite different directions on our quests. A celebration? Oh, I'd love to join, I was just about to try and find my companions actually. Perhaps you could help? Oh, will good jester Kevin and good sir Sigmund be there as well?" Morton says with a mingling mix of excitement, joy and utter incredulity. "Ah, but where are my manners. I am Carter Morton, but most just call me Morton, butler and tea enthusiast. A pleasure to meet you, a friend of good surgeon Mark is a friend of mine!" he then says to both the lady and the... music thing.
"And I am Craig Coville, though everyone just calls me Craig. Tailoring is what I do, though I am well-versed in demonology as well."
"Very pleased to meet you, Morton, Craig. I'm Wilma Wilkins, MNR. I'd prefer that you just call me Wilma. I'm a traveling exorcist, sometimes dabbling in creating undead," the lady says, shooting the music thing a slightly worried glance. The music thing just continues making music, evidently having no capacity to process sound of any kind and being only dimly aware of the pokes with the foot that Mark keeps giving it. It doesn't look to be very healthy.
In a perplexing room of an unidentified domicile...
Scott thinks he's had just about enough of this nonsense, and that whoever is responsible for the travesty all around him should just quit being such an awful bastard and show themselves so he can burn them to death as well as everything else in sight.
"TO THE BEINGS WHO DWELL HERE! I KINDLY ASK YOU TO PRESENT YOURSELVES IN FORMS THAT WILL NOT DAMAGE MY SOUL INCARNATE, ELSE I WILL DEFEND MYSELF!" he tells the air.
"Done," says a mysterious voice in reply practically immediately. "Why'd you break into my house, anyway? Are you looking for treasure or something?"
In Ms. Klemm's dining room...
Kevin tries to explain further about his various misadventures to Ms. Klemm.
"Me and some other undead were servants of an old, sick man. Along comes somebody called the Artiste with some soul bound mages and another undead. They turn our master into a blanket and soulbind us. We promptly left for a town to find a boat, where we picked up yet another mage. He had somehow designed a portal to a dimension with the Aspect of Appeal, which gives you fashion makeovers. It turned one of my comrades into a desk, although he didn't seem to mind. That's where I met that servant. Anyway, we left on a haunted boat because that was the only one willing to carry a bunch of undead and mages for free. When we arrived we all went unconscious, and next thing I know I'm in the body of a woman and soulbound to yet another thing, this time some sort of weird hivemind."
Ms. Klemm is quiet for a moment, then nods.
"I must say, it is interesting how the questions your explanations raise seem to increase geometrically as you go on, Ms. Cooker," she says after a moment.
In the guest rooms of Castle Fenton...
Niklas disappointedly floats out of the guest area, seeking more interesting places to visit, like the castle cafeteria.
When he promptly discovers that castles do not, as a rule, have cafeterias, unlike the great longhouses of the North with their massive lunch lines that effectively combine a social venue and a method of artificial selection against the weak and polite in the populace. His disappointment is palpable, and he floats over to one of the kitchens, where there is nobody at all, not even a saucy ham to make conversation with. No food either, awfully enough.