In a pipe deep underground...
Knowing from life experience way back when that bleeding is an ostensibly bad thing, Kevin sacrifices a scrap of his clothing to...
Wait, he can't actually bandage this cut with just a scrap, as he discovers. This is something he'll definitely need a strip of clothing for. Besides, it's just a small cut. Really, the bothersome thing here, as he realizes, is that blood has a very characteristic smell and that he is probably the only thing presently smelling like blood in the area. And cave creatures, he would venture to guess, would presumably have a reasonably good sense of smell, to put it mildly.
In some sort of gnomish operating theater...
Sigmund, knowing things are about to go even more poorly for him if he doesn't stop squirming, promptly does so and plays dead, resisting the urge to make a silly dying noise as he does so.
However, as he quickly discovers, the gnome working on him isn't fooled at all as it slices off his entire left arm, then takes out his left eye to stick on top of it - despite Sigmund's best efforts to remain still and as dead-looking as possible, which he thought would be easier than this, the gnome continues its work silently. Or maybe it does think he's dead, and simply doesn't care.
Its next move is to take off Sigmund's head, a surprisingly painless experience and one that doesn't even begin to cause him any sort of existential agony or desire to leave this body - indeed, he can still feel everything both in his head and his torso, as well as all other things severed and put together by the alien butcher working on him. In a humiliating turn, the creature removes Sigmund's main body's sole forearm, leaving a torso with an upper right arm strapped onto the table only by the neck, and attaches the head on top of the forearm experimentally. As he is placed on the ground, Sigmund finds he can't keep his balance even if he tried.
In addition, he finds it a little difficult to pay attention to all of his separate, yet uniformly animate bits to an equal degree.
At a clearing in the woods...
Scott tries to create some mile-long trails of fire to put the fear of the gods into that punk that just ran off, but manages only to start a little spark, which is quite a running theme with him lately. And, after being so generously reminded by Tailor Craig of the Black Circle of Magic's existence, his mood is verging on completeness.
"I will sing so joyously when we present them bound, gagged and humiliated in front of his gubby-ness. The dead should not be called upon for so personally selfish reasons. I think we should also pay a call onto the death priests, I am sure he would love to learn the intricacies of celestial majicks and worshiper/God relations," he says.
"They already have death priests, sadly. Mothdale had the biggest death temple for hundreds of miles around," Justine points out, some sort of know-it-all floodgate evidently having open in her mind.
"You seem quite familiar with Velusius, good mage Justine, a point of study at one point perhaps?" Morton wonders after checking the map and confirming that yes, they are still going the right way and should be in Eckledun before morning rolls in.
"You get real familiar with Velusius if you ever happen to get mage training. Used to be the only way you'd have a decent chance of becoming a mage was through blood sacrifice to that dick. And for the regular person who doesn't get educated in a chant-based program or, alternatively, doesn't subject themselves to some other yahoo method, it still is. Only reason why extracting virgin blood is even a thing is because you can offer it to Velusius so that he helps you magic around to your heart's delight. So yes, I know something about all that crap."
"Hm, I do most certainly thank you for the explanation. I admit most topics found on our travels are often beyond what I know, I'm afraid, and I appreciate those who help me along with that unfortunate circumstance. I suppose nothing can, or perhaps instead should, be further done with the traveler's situation," Morton says, and Justine seems to agree. "Hm, I believe our time here may be at a close. Although I wouldn't say no to a most welcoming respite in such a peaceful locale, perhaps it is time we continue along, unless there is any objections?"
There indeed is no objections, and shiz is all harmonious in this bizatch for real, so the group move along, and, as predicted, it does not take overly long to reach Eckledun. What they see is a town built to last - steel constructions, reinforced towers, even the regular houses seem to be built for maximum durability, and even glow slightly -, and around it is a mixture of a shantytown and refugee camp, currently silent, but evidently host to a great deal of people, judging from the number of tents.
In the guest wing of Castle Fenton...
Niklas, becoming quite hungry by now, pokes his head out of his room in order to shout for Lifeboy much more efficiently.
"Can you change a very small animal into a big one, like a bug into a goat? I'm hungry!" he says.
"Ooh! Fantastic idea! Here's a nice wasp, with a nice large abdomen..." Lifeboy replies, immediately taken with the idea. A moment of silence passes, followed by a rather confused "Ah? Erm...", at which point a rather rapid, powerful flapping of wings drowns out all other sound. Lifeboy quickly runs out of his room, shutting the door behind him.
"Well! That was an interesting experiment!" he observes, stepping away from the door as he gives it several distrustful looks as he comes closer to Niklas. "You know, I think I'll go sleep on the other end of the wing!" he then adds, and runs to the room at the opposite end of the hall, on the opposite side as well.
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Topic: Life Begins At Death - Epilogue: We Live And Live Again (Read 542887 times)