At the guard HQ in Shriekpot...
Scott keeps his cool, moving along with his explanation in his typical manner. As in, the manner that makes one wish to strangle him until he has one less functional neck than before.
"Yes. Apparently wizards like books. Enough as to not afford the thousands they collect... You know... being people that tend to rely on handouts or others to earn them income as they play with other expensive, and often explosive, corrosive, addictive, festering and etc components."
He then opts to become professionally irritating instead.
"Now that our mission can no longer be feasibly be carried out, the compulsion is removed, hence our enthusiasm to surrender and pour out our cold, dead hearts to you... instead of rabidly removing your innards and playfully maiming you."
"Ah, I see. Who is your master, then? The one who bound you? And where can we find this person?"
Before Scott can answer, Sigmund can't help but voice his complete and utter lack of support for this idea of his.
"Just shut up, please."
He then turns to Carlson, ready to accept his fate.
"Okay, I confess, but can I keep my arm, please? It's not going to be of any utility to you..."
"Sorry, no. Rules are rules, you know. Besides, our arm wall is looking a little bare lately, and yours looks like a fine replacement. Come with me," he indicates to Sigmund, then turning to Scott.
"Relay any incredibly important information to this guy, I'll be right back," he says, pointing to the reception guy. He then beckons Sigmund to follow him, as does another guard. With a spear.
Scott, meanwhile, finds himself alone in the company of the reception man plus three other guards.
At the engineers' gate of the City of the Dead...
Darren, quite disappointed at the lack of information from the gibbon, just goes along with the charade for now.
"Ah. Well, is there any way I could get in there?"
The gibbon nods.
At the Brotherhood of Fine Furniture and Other Odds and Ends...
Niklas goes ahead and introduces the man to all of his metallic commodities, all five suits of armor and all the weapons he has. The fellow looks it over.
"I would say that is almost enough to cover all of it."
He lifts up the various items, checking them carefully.
"About sixty, perhaps seventy kilograms total. All in all, that would give you a 3 silver discount on both chairs."
At the odd ship in the harbor...
Morton looks at Art perplexedly before he remembers about the whole telepathy thing. Ah. How silly of him. He wobbles onto the deck, at which point he is spoken to by a voice in his head.
~Hello. I recognize your thoughts from earlier. You appear to have changed, sir.~
In Undefined Space...
Timothy is saddened by how the universe appears to be intent to keep him from going where he wants and doing what he needs.
"Aw. Well, was worth a shoot."
He then tries to imagine some building blocks, managing to create an entire amazing pyramid of them. It stretches quite high, he finds. Quite high indeed. Now to build something for real! He lays down a solid foundation of blocks, forming something not unlike an island, whereupon he plants more blocks upon it. These shall be rocks, he declares. Then he makes pretty nice trees, because you can't have a nice village without nice trees. He then builds houses, beautiful, tall houses like the ones he has always wanted to be at least be allowed inside of, and even makes room for a magnificent, if a tiny bit intimidating castle near a canyon. It all looks a tad blocky, but Timothy finds that it attains a certain kind of stylized charm in the process.
He also feels that something is looking at him. However, when he looks around, he finds that nobody's around that he can see.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 542753 times)