Outside the ruins of Eckledun...
Sigmund, faced with violent illogic of the highest caliber, decides not to bother with this awful town and its no doubt awful violations of everything he has assumed of the world he dwells in. No, what he'll do is find someplace nicer. That's not much to ask, is it? Someplace nicer than this? Turning around and continually moving his phylactery to follow along, he trots off into the sunset. A good choice in all likelihood - with his luck, he would have probably lost his direction at the first intersection and then gotten flayed by a mote of dust that had taken offense at his style of walk. Nope, not going to happen any time soon!
Fortunately, he is not flayed by a mote of dust that had taken offense at his walk just then, but that is not to say his little trot is uneventful - why, he comes across something interesting in a matter of twenty or so minutes - it's rather clearly a tower, and seems to have a distinctly bony look. From a distance, it looks like it might be made of skulls that have been bolted together - closer examination, however, suggests that they merely appear to have been melted into a semblance of a wall instead. The tower's not very tall, about the size of a two story house right now, albeit it seems to be growing at a slow yet steady pace. Atop it, Sigmund notices, is a floaty-haired man garbed in black, screaming his lungs out, his eyes completely shut and arms outstretched. He sounds like he is in horrible agony.
In the home of Karina...
Darren, after thinking about it a few moments more, floats off quickly, trying not to think of whether Karina actually twitched her hand feebly in his direction as he was turning his back. Fortunately, his concerns are put out of his mind almost immediately as the spirit of glorious fleeing overtakes him, and takes him over to the hatch in the scavenger girl's shop, blissfully back on non-spider-infested surface once more.
Now then, he's sort of at a loss on what would be the logical thing to do next. Probably stay inside during stormy weather so he doesn't get hit by god-lightning. Maybe go and find somebody to bother with magic tricks? Ask somebody where he is? See if he can get into low orbit, mayhap?
In an alleyway in Eckledun...
While Morton and Wilma continue to consider their impending doom Mark falters not. This whole business seems like a problem he could easily solve if he had ill-explained reality-altering powers that are meant to easily solve problems insurmountable to regular people. But for those he needs a focus, and also a wizard to bite him, and an incubation period of a couple of days.
Can he wait a couple of days? The creaking of the alleyway suggests not, even if he could convince Wilma to bite him in a particularly infection-prone part of the body.
In the woods somewhere...
Kevin, satisfied with his reality-warping artifact of glory, bids Patty a respectful farewell.
"Well, I guess some people that could be called friends are back there. I guess I should go and find them. Thanks for giving me this. And good luck, wherever you are going."
"Oh, no need for luck!" Patty laughs, and her horse chuckles deeply along with her. "I am older and I am wiser, just as I bid the Mantra to make me all those weeks ago... heh! I wish you the most splendid luck with it, friend!" she then adds, clambering atop the horse and riding off into the distance. What a strange old woman. But at least the Mantra appears to work. Hang on, better check right quick. Looking at the Mantra, Kevin thinks of his next need - a sword, obviously. All heroes require a sword. Not a large sword, of course. A small one, agile, good for a firm stabbing or two. Gazing upon the swimming words, Kevin chants the words once more, feeling them resolve more clearly in his mind than before, their meaning and their inexorable will forcing itself upon reality as the words pour from his mouth.
Sometime before he snaps out of his reverie, he feels a blade in his hand - a little like an overly large dagger, practically weightless, and seemingly quite extraordinarily sharp. And also rather transparent, too, which is a little unusual. In addition, he appears to have manifested another layer of clothes during the chanting, which is also a little strange.
Above a pool of exquisite pink...
The Pink, it seems, has not convinced mighty Scott.
"Sir...Ma'am? IT? Pink is not enough description to answer my question. Unless your name for yourself/ves is pink and by submerging myself I would become you, thus 'PINK!'"
The Pink, perhaps sensing the rhetorical nature of Scott's pause, declines to respond.
"In either case, I am not satisfied. However it is clear for your responses and mannerisms that you are not sentient enough to give an intelligent answer. So beast, If you want me, you will have to work for it."
[Firestarting roll: 5]
[Pink roll: 4]
The pond catches fire, the pink burning with an appropriately pink flame producing pink fumes. It does not make any additional movements. "Submerge!" it mentions quite out of the blue. "Result is unknown. Kzzat!"
Doesn't seem to be terribly impressed about being on fire. Drat. Though it does look nice now, with the flames as animate and strange as mad little crackling spirits, each possessing more than a trace of emotion in its movements.
In Harlan's House of Hilarity and Harlotry...
Timothy, afforded a chance to introduce himself, finally feels like he's getting somewhere.
"I is Tim! I be goin' off to, uh, map de uhh, anner-, anmer-, anno... da weird-pink-thing!" he states proudly and with great enthusiasm.
"The weird pink thing!" the ghostly woman echoes with joy. "They don't talk 'bout it in here. I was a-wonderin' about it the other day, but the serious magic man said that was all for later-like. He had this serious face he makes, and his bushy whiskers were quiverin', I tells you."
"Gon' be a adventure! It's real 'portant. What's youse name?"
"Julep!" the woman declares. "Is 'cause I'm sweet and maybe medicinal, see?" she giggles as her gaze wanders over Timothy for an idle moment. "Say! You's got three legs, you do. Or izzat just me again?"