"Third once-removed."
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Jack is there as well. He's holding his head in shame after his meddling with the occult almost got everyone's soul sucked into a book. He approaches Anna. "I'm sorry, Anna," he says, hat in hand. (In the hand not carrying his decapitated head.) "I hope you can forgive me, and that this whole decapitation thing doesn't complicate our relationship."
Jack looks down at his chest, where Cashara returned the book. He slowly un-impales himself, pulling the Cryonomicon's troll-finger-nose from the hole in his belly. The book falls onto the floor, face up. Its three brimstone eyes and beastly grin seem to mock Jack as his head makes silent eye contact. "Take it," Jack says to Dr. Marvin. "I do not know if you can safely destroy it. I only know you must never read it. If you have ever read a book so intriguing you 'just cannot put it down,' that is my experience with this book. Perhaps a friend yanking it from my hand would have saved me. Perhaps I would have reacted violently to such a friend. Perhaps I did, and the Cryonomicon erased my memory of the act and the friend. "All I am certain of is this: never open the book. Not a peak, if you do not desire my fate."
Jack is relieved when Cashara says he is not to be arrested—especially since he may be unable to die in his current state. He does his best to be compliant when Caledon presses him for detail. "I do not, sir. None of the figures in my vision were clear. I only know that The First is not the Ice Devil."
"Oh, balls." Jack's body positions the head to gaze out the window. "I saw this in a vision while I was trapped in a meditative state. "The White Death starts with a downward surge,
"The poem was part of the vision. A one-stanza poem repeated relentlessly until I awoke. The vision itself was a blinding snowstorm and a booming drum, beating slowly and steadily. An army marched to it... white figures; indiscernible through the blizzard, but I could see them well enough to know they were shaped of men. And The First. He is something bigger. Not the Ice Devil, but surely one connected to him. "I fear I may be somehow responsible for this." The body bends forward, humbly hanging his neck-stub in shame. The head says, "I am... very sorry. Very, very sorry."
Caledon:
The Ice Devil is responsible for what some sects of the Green Faith refer to as the Ice Age. As far as you know, the First World is lush and green. Perhaps it was another plane that froze over and was overrun with ice zombies. In any case, extreme temperatures too cold for animals to survive was the beginning of the end. Jack tries to shake his head 'no,' but ends up twirling by his hair until his body's other hand stops his head from spinning. "I am merely an elf nearing his end, and preserving life through the power of ice. It seems I have succeeded, though admittedly through luck rather than studies. The term 'lich' sounds dreadfully devoid of life." He looks up at his body's neck stump. "If you would kindly pledge allegiance..." The body switches the head to the left hand, and places the right hand over the heart. Seconds later, the right hand makes an okay sign. "I have excellent news," Jack says. "The beating of my telltale heart confirms I am not a lich, for I am alive. Now that that frightening business is settled, tell me something. For you have come from the outdoors, as is evident by the trail of snowy footprints you left on the dwarves' carpet. While you were out and about, have you lot experienced anything... peculiar?"
The head tries to nod in reply to Cashara's greeting, but just ends up swinging itself by the hair. Jack does not make a second attempt at the acknowledging gesture. He merely speaks: "Jack Frystyoghurt at your service. I am not certain whether interrupting my meditation was beneficial or detrimental, but I suspect the latter and it is, after all, the thought that counts, so I shall err on the side of gratitude." Jack glares at his own body. "Bow, a~$!~$@." The body bows. The head says, "Thank you, young lady, for releasing me from my trance before the Ice Devil could take me."
"Oh, balls," Jack says of his predicament.
"Awoooooooommmmmmm...... a-woooooooooommmmmmmm.........," the elf on the shelf continues to hum.
"Awoooooooommmmmmm...... a-woooooooooommmmmmmm.........," the elf hums from his prone position on the second-from-top shelf. He is at eye-level to our heroes. Dwarves have to look up to see the strange elf. |