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[Yoink]

Timothy frowned at that. "Why's me blocks not work?"
He decided he might as well pay more attention to these others. He squinted up at the first one as she spoke.
"Umm... dey said 'ey could send me home, though..." he murmured, growing more confused as she went on, "An' yeah, I guess dat's tha magick-y fellow has my soul." Timothy perked up a bit, forcing a grin. "He is send me on alla special missions!"
_{...Well, not that he seemed terribly likely to ever get any of that done. He couldn't even really remember what he was supposed to be doing...}

He put aside those thoughts and looked over at the newcomer, which was, if anything even stranger than the girl. That's okay, though. Timothy doesn't judge on appearances. Heck no.
"Dis fun place? Was pretty fun 'cept my blocks is stop workin'..." He couldn't help but beam with pride as the thing complimented his block-work. It was always nice to feel appreciated. Maybe his new friends would like to hear a bit about the subject?
"Thanks! I is try ta make place from back home. See, dere's Mista Bob's house, an' dat's where I's first meets Hansel..."

>Talk talk talk

>Graciously accept compliment, then give my new friends a bit of a tour around what I built! Tell 'em a bit about my adventures back in the real-world, too.
Be sure to stop if they look bored, though- I don't want to chase away my friends! They might be hard to come by here, y'know.

[Xantalos]

That's all.

Go get loan.

[Tomcost]

Sigmund, having absolutely nothing better to do, kept asking questions:

-It seems like a nice job. Not one that I would take, as butchering people is not my style, but I guess that if you like it, it would be a great job. Tell me, do you know about scammers and the like in the city?

[Xanmyral]

Morton gives a look to see how Art is doing. ~I admit to being curious, you're able to keep two private conversations at a time? I have to admit I'm impressed, I sometimes have trouble keeping one conversation straight to be utterly concise.~

[Innsmothe]

"Is there anything I can do for you to keep at least one of my thumbs? "

Submit

[miauw62]

Try to peer trough the bag without breaking it, somehow.

[Harry Baldman]

In Undefined Space...

Timothy does on ahead and tries to talk his guests' auditory organs right off.

"Why's me blocks not work?" he asks mostly himself before turning toward the others.

"Umm... dey said 'ey could send me home, though... An' yeah, I guess dat's tha magick-y fellow has my soul. He is send me on alla special missions!"

"They do not send. You send yourself. They only help."

"Yeah, the always-voices can be terribly unhelpful-harmful sometimes! Majorly! But anyone-everyone who gets here-there can get right back-there!"

Timothy thinks about this. It sounds a little familiar, actually. He promptly changes the subject, the usual strategy when he needs time to think.

"Dis fun place? Was pretty fun 'cept my blocks is stop workin'..."

"Very fun fun-place! And very nice-wonderful block-things!"

"Thanks! I is try ta make place from back home. See, dere's Mista Bob's house, an' dat's where I's first meets Hansel..."

He begins his epic tale of various adventures had and enemies vanquished, stopping but a few sentences later when he realizes that these people, if that is indeed what they are, probably can't relate to his past or his home on any reasonable level.

"You do not belong here," Og suddenly mentions.

"Not that that's a bad-terrible thing, yes?"

"This our realm. We can help leave, if want. Help with soul issue."


At De Jong and Associates...

Niklas, having found out all he needs to know, moves on to the Personal Loans department, ducking into the door cautiously. On the other side, he observes a whole lot of people lining up for six different desks, behind each of which is a bureaucrat. There are at least five people in every line, and the entire place looks pretty busy.


In the amputation room of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Sigmund compliments the guard offhandedly while fishing for information.

"It seems like a nice job. Not one that I would take, as butchering people is not my style, but I guess that if you like it, it would be a great job. Tell me, do you know about scammers and the like in the city?"

"Oh, plenty of those. Difficult to catch, though. They're a crafty lot. And fast runners. Those that aren't don't last very long."


On a strange ship in Shriekpot...

Morton looks over at Art, who seems perfectly content, if a little distracted.

~I admit to being curious, you're able to keep two private conversations at a time? I have to admit I'm impressed, I sometimes have trouble keeping one conversation straight to be utterly concise.~

~Actually, I'm having three right now. One with you, one with Arthur and one with a shipping official about half a kilometer away. I've had plenty of practice, and I am configured to handle such a thing easily. I typically use my senses for navigation, which requires quite a proficiency for multitasking.~


In the main lobby of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Scott tries for a compromise one last time.

"Is there anything I can do for you to keep at least one of my thumbs?"

"No, you see, the point of taking your thumbs is so you stay out of trouble. And you've already done quite enough, I think. Now, give 'em here."

Scott produces his hands grudgingly, looking away as Carlson places the strange scissors around one of his thumbs, cutting it off after liberal application of force. He then does the same thing to the other thumb. At the end of it, he takes both thumbs.

"Now, if we need you, we'll find you. Other than that, you're free to go. Happy trails!"

Carlson promptly walks off, leaving Scott with two fewer thumbs and considerably less legal trouble than before.


Somewhere in the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Kevin tries to look out of the bag carefully, but finds that it's been sewn up tight - no way he's getting out without ripping it open.

[Tomcost]

Sigmund, a bit tired of idle conversation by this point, kept things going:

-Well, it makes sense. I got scammed for quite a lot of money by someone who posed as a captain some days ago. Have you heard about someone called Rat-Bastard Gilroy?

[Innsmothe]

Scott will morosely head back to the ship, checking in on surgeries along the way in an attempt to wrangle a knew set of thumbs. 

[miauw62]

Break the bag and look around.

[Xantalos]

Head to the shortest line I can see. Wait for it to get moving.

[Xanmyral]

[Well, I had my suspicions this person was probably artificial in some way for the length of this conversation, mostly during the part where they talked about instinct and so such in a detached sense, I see it's probably justified now with the configuration talk. That and 'conversations at the crack of dawn.' Unless they're just really weird/creepy, as Art mentioned before. For a bit, I actually wondered if this was the rubber wyvern. Still wonder whatever happened to that thing.]

~Impressive, truly impressive, I can't even imagine holding that many conversations concurrent to one another without getting something mixed up. Also Arthur? I pondered if Art was short for something but never truly got around to asking.~ Morton mentally commented, glancing at the port for a bit trying to think about how to phrase a question he's been wondering without sounding terribly rude. After all, what kind of polite individual would he be if he were to ask 'are you the ship' or 'are you human?' Terribly, terribly rude. He decided it might be best to edge around it, see if he can find a polite opening.

~You are the navigator of the ship, along with the captain? You must indeed be quite proficient with multitasking, most stories I hear of captains talk of them having navigators under them. If you don't mind me asking, where is the crew? I've not seen nor heard any of them, are they perhaps buying supplies for your voyage? I've always imagined ships to be bustling with activity at most times.~

[Spinal_Taper]

"Are you going to?"

[Harry Baldman]

In the amputation room of the guard HQ in Shriekpot...

Sigmund, quite bored by now, just keeps going through the usual conversational motions. Like, for instance, asking about scammers. Those were simpler times, he must say.

"Well, it makes sense. I got scammed for quite a lot of money by someone who posed as a captain some days ago. Have you heard about someone called Rat-Bastard Gilroy?"

"No, not really. If he lives in town, it wouldn't be surprising - these con artists know not to shit where they eat, so to speak. Those who live here don't work here, and those who work here don't live here. And we don't really have much in the way of cooperation with other lawgivers aside from maybe being able to post huge bounties and hope for the best, so no luck on con artists, unfortunately. They aren't really that much of a high priority, to be honest. There's easier targets, you know. Murderers, thieves, ruffians, those sorts. They're nice and obvious, usually."

Nice to see the public order in safe hands, Sigmund guesses. And while he guesses, Carlson returns.

"Hey, Ziggy, come over here - got some questions for you! Good questions, too. Follow me," he says, looking at Sigmund enthusiastically.

"Finally! I'm outta here," the butcher man says, immediately vacating the room and heading away.


In the main lobby of the guard HQ of Shriekpot...

Scott decides to go ahead and leave in as morose a fashion as he can manage. It works wonderfully - he can feel the atmosphere in the lobby worsening from the sheer disappointment. He heads out, looking for street surgeons on the way. Rather interestingly, he does notice a guy in one of the squares on the way - he has a rather important-looking sign, even. It says "HOLDEN GREENLEAF, MIRACLE WORKER EXTRAORDINAIRE!" Currently, he appears to be performing eye surgery on an old woman. Judging by the way nobody is screaming and panicking, Scott thinks he's doing a good job, actually.


In a room of some kind...

Kevin does his best to try and open up the bag a bit.

[Kevin's strength roll: 4-1]

He manages to tear a small hole in the thing. Through it, he sees a ceiling! How exciting!


At the Personal Loans department of De Jong and Associates...

Niklas looks at the shortest line, which just so happens to be made up of five people, and stands right in it, awaiting a point when he might get processed.

Ten minutes later, the guy in front moves up to the desk after an old woman gets up from her conversation, looking quite dejected.


On a strange ship in Shriekpot...

Morton keeps on conversing. Gotta fill the time somehow, right?

~Impressive, truly impressive, I can't even imagine holding that many conversations concurrent to one another without getting something mixed up. Also, Arthur? I pondered if Art was short for something but never truly got around to asking.~

~Arthur Lindenberg is his or her original name, yes. Rather pleasant person, certainly.~

Well, that clears that up.

~You are the navigator of the ship, along with the captain? You must indeed be quite proficient with multitasking, most stories I hear of captains talk of them having navigators under them. If you don't mind me asking, where is the crew? I've not seen nor heard any of them, are they perhaps buying supplies for your voyage? I've always imagined ships to be bustling with activity at most times.~

~Not quite. Like you already suspect, I am, in fact, the ship. There is no crew, you see. Quite superfluous, really. The shipping authorities perform the loading and unloading, and I act as the one who does the actual shipping. It's very good work, I would say. Lots of variability. The last transaction will be performed this afternoon, at which point I will set off to my home in Mothdale to unload the new bits of cargo and receive further orders.~


At the engineers' gate of the City of the Dead...

Darren, coming quite close to understanding this creature's deal, so to speak, asks once more to confirm his suspicions.

"Are you going to?"

The gibbon shakes its head, then opens its mouth in something that would resemble a grin if one's eyes wouldn't be distracted by the absolutely enormous canine teeth protruding from its maxilla. Seriously, you could skewer a guy on those things.

[Tomcost]

Simgund follows Carlson and says:

-So, what did Scott say?