In the senseless void of sensory deprivation...
Niklas does his best to assuage the fears of Helsvar.
"Don't mourn, my sweet. I can't find any chairs to transfer to anyhow. Hm."
That gives him an idea.
"I'm still connected to that Nartif guy via soul bond. Maybe I can contact him."
"Be safe, my love."
Niklas then tries to do something with the soul bond, but he doesn't find anything to work off of. Doesn't seem like the bond's an actual, physical thing. At least, not right now.
On the Second Shank...
Scott quickly takes an inventory of the things available here on the ship. He finds out that there really aren't any. There's only a bit of food in the kitchen, a bit of water here and there and the barrel and a half of the Special that Scott brought.
A sad state of affairs, to be honest.
Sigmund and Kevin, meanwhile, figure out a plan of action. It involves giving Kevin a book and a gold coin. This is more difficult than one might imagine due to the fact that Kevin's fingers don't really work properly due to being broken. And the fact that he can't roll up the stairs with anything that can be described as a reasonable amount of effort.
Sigmund, though, has no problem just walking over to Craig and pestering him.
"So, what demon are you going to contact?"
Tailor Craig is a tad startled by Sigmund's sudden remark, and rapidly wipes away a single line of chalk that he was drawing.
"Ah. Didn't see you there. But to answer your question, these are templates, mostly for verbal portals. I have one mostly drafted up for the Demon of Difficult Questions - quite a useful portal, that one. And one template for the makeover portal, one on the far wall that leads to the Realm of Fear, and one more general one, and some companion sigils, definitely a rather good beginning, I would say. Sadly, there is only so much space I can use here, or I would perhaps do one of the larger ones as well, for practice if nothing else."
In the streets of Shriekpot...
Morton, against what one would consider good sense, replies to the man, who he has dubbed Socrates for the purposes of this discussion on a whim.
"I'm sorry that we can't provide adequate explanation sir, but I honestly don't know. I was turned into a desk by a demon a day or so ago, and don't rightly know many things. I know that I see out of these," he says, pointing at the knobs on his drawers, "and I can speak out of this," he continues, indicating his speech drawer. "I don't know how I can hear, nor how I can think, nor even how I can articulate movement really. I don't like not knowing, but such is sadly how it works. These arms aren't even original to my body, they were added on later and I found I could manipulate them as if they were natural. Perhaps I can simply manipulate wood to a strange degree, if within a certain distance from whatever might be truly me inside this desk? I do not know."
"But I believe I might know someone who would. I warn you though, I've never attempted to contact such an individual so I'm not sure what might happen should he-or-she indeed be contacted. But I lay the offer out, I can quite possibly contact someone who can answer your questions if you wish. I've been told this individual asks as many hard questions as they themselves answer, and they may request a type of payment, possibly severe, for their answers or questions. Would you like to speak with him-or-her? I'm not the kind of person who likes to force anyone into anything; I consider such things dreadful and barbaric you see, so if you do not wish to, I will rescind the offer."
"Who is this individual, and what makes you believe they can provide the truth?"
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 542903 times)