On the shipwreck-rich beach of Mothdale...Sigmund, though less dissatisfied with his horrible body than before, is still incapable of proper movement as far as he can tell. So he decides to give
Mark some more grief about the way he still hasn't been helped enough.
"Hey, I know that you like doing these things, but there are ways to do this that don't involve other people.
Could you put me in a more manageable body at least? I don't care anymore if it is horrifying or not, I just want to move."Mark, guessing that it does make sense that a silly fellow like Sigmund wouldn't be able to handle sixteen limbs any better than seventeen, wonders what to do next while making sure to advance vaguely menacingly on Sigmund so as to not give the impression that he needs time to actually
think of his next course of action.
Scott notices this and isn't quite as understanding of Sigmund's requests as Mark.
"Siggy! I am sorry, I believe that you are addicted to dangerous cosmetic surgery! Please stop now... before it's too late!" he yells, and tries to conjure a wall of fire between Sigmund and Mark.
[Scott's firestarting roll: 4]
He manages to make a flash of fire in the air between the two, but it doesn't really last or anything - his power doesn't seem to provide him much in the way of continuous burning, and it's very draining to keep setting off these flashes in quick succession, as Scott finds after his third and last flash before he has to stop and gather his thoughts a moment.
"There is a moment in which one's situation can't get worse, Scott.
And I tell you that I can't." Sigmund replies cryptically and rolls closer to Mark, noticing that Scott seems to have run out of juice to keep spontaneously combusting an empty patch of air. Despite his exhaustion, though, Scott immediately thinks of a comeback.
"I can definitely think of worse situations, Sigmund! It's time to quit whilst you aren't a head!" he says, the zing almost audible against the crackling backdrop of the burning shipwrecks.
"I'd prefer being an ectoplasmic head, then. At least I would be able to move," Sigmund replies, and then begins to disregard Scott's attempts to dissuade him, knowing that he hardly has the power to stop Mark when the latter is up to his dark deeds.
[Mark's "medicine" roll: 6+1]
Realizing that the problem is obviously that Sigmund is not really ready for legs, or wings for that matter, Mark handily removes all of those, putting them back in his body part cart. When Sigmund is about to insist that this isn't what he wanted again (at least Mark guesses that was what the foolish bugger was about to say), Mark, quite bored of the fellow's capricious and overly demanding attitude, plunges a knife into Sigmund's flesh and, in fewer movements than Sigmund would have thought the process to be possible with, handily removes all of his throats and tongues (throwing those back into the cart as well), and rejoices as Sigmund's complaints are replaced with retching and gurgling, sounds that are altogether more musical to him than his patient's previous attempts at negotiation. Mark gives Sigmund a quick thumbs-up, then turns his back on the fully wormified and gloriously inarticulate creature he has left in his wake, beginning to pace and ponder what he could do next.
~we have people you must entertain and educate with your art, mark! there is little for you here! hurry, as we will be busy momentarily!~In a mostly empty room...After considering the walbear or bearrus he's got built here, it slowly dawns on
Niklas that there was some kind of purpose to this whole thing he did here. That purpose was a floating fat lady, more or less. Now that the statue's done, he guesses he had best present it.
"HEY FLOATING LADY I'M DONE!" he shouts to the room. Minutes pass. Nothing happens. Huh.
Inside a temple of Velusius...Disappointed in his inability to really get the place rocking and cracking,
Kevin just keeps on trying.
[Kevin's singing roll: 1-2-
1]
He tries to hold the high pitch that cracked the glass, but quickly finds out that there's a reason it's not a thing that all people can do all the time when he feels something very unpleasantly give way inside his throat, a sinister shifting of demoniac flesh suddenly robbing him of both breath and voice. That... probably could have gone better. Much better.
On the Second Shank...Morton, though depressed by the sight of stale tea, resolves to solve this problem soon rather than dwell on it. While he considers, gathers and consolidates his supplies, he converses with the gub.
~Hm, I do thank you for the offer, good group Gub. I've been personally pondering the option of making something that may heal me, or perhaps enchant myself so that any damage may heal. I'd hate to be a strain on the group, and while surgeon Mark is adept at what he does I fear he may not be able to help me should something dreadful happen.~~this you can safely achieve on your own! you can enchant things, yes!~~I suppose something that may clean and purify water would be appropriate as well, I'm more than happy to turn the old tavern into a respectable place but I fear the quality of the water might hamper things terribly, I'd hate to serve tea that might be tainted. Boiling the water may reduce the impurities, but I fear the process may be slow.~~a crew is on the job, morton! we shall begin chanting soon!~
Author
Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 540868 times)