(Is the 10ft drift considered not movement?)

Iradon will go back home, and does the awkward exchange of the ghost situation with his family and then go to sleep. 

Zzzzz.

The One Armed Knight, who is in no way related to the Tree Dogg Knight, nor his other two brothers GW Bush and Sod, they were triplets you see, all of then knighted together, the three of them, scratches his head. Again, really just scratching the top of that metal bucket he calls a helmet, with the hand that was left him as Burt runs off to the the ham estimation shoppe. He's confused and so just assumes that he now owns a perfect pile of limbs-o-Duncan. But to keep those damned children from their continuing harassment he throws down 20 copper pieces and says, "Looks like I'll be needing these installed sooner rather than later. Will the 20 there do it for you boys? That's 5 a limb with a good 33.3333333333333333 <i can go on all day>% tip you know." His eyes light up as he gains possession of the new and slightly less hammy appendages. 

I AM STILL ALIVE! Work's been mad, I will endeavour to not leave it this long again. He said, moving into a weekend with no PC access.... Aaaaanyway :

Ira : Yes, the drift is part of the movement. 50ft total, with unperformed drift carrying into the next turn. I never said it was a useful move :D  Your return home is unremarkable, your wife and children cowering in the kitchen as the spectre passes and drifts upstairs. Despite the chanting downstairs to banish your spirit, you are left unmolested in an empty bedroom. LR

Greg - yes, in the interest of me not holding this up, I'll trust your accounting. Bort pops out with a fleshspanner and meatwrench, swift as any pit-crew,  and has the limb secured and wired to your nervous system in mere seconds. Congrats on your new leg. No, the tools are not available for sale!

TBK - Mort keeps a very firm grip on the left arm and leg, waiting for the other 20cp you owe.  It's odd how much effort he seems to have to put into holding them. Pay up you cheapskate! Assuming you do, he'll fit yours even more efficiently than Bort did for Greg.

Burt - Constable Harburk is almost visibly salivating at the sight of that ham, wastes no time in grabbing hold of the meat and getting to work. His housemate Jalessa has a similar approach when she sees something she wants. Hey - if Harburk liked it, he shudda put a ring on it.  LR?

Fiver - No sleeping on the streets - Constable Harburk will be walking the beat tonight. I mean you'll hear him coming, because he's muttering a lot and swearing and swinging his billyclub into his fist as if warming up to crack someone's skull open and turn the contents into custard.

I paid living expenses (in copper) so I know i was sleeping off-street. I am pretty sure my cryotube is rented until 10am checkout, so I will just pop back in there until everyone else is breakfasted, prepped and assembled. I will then spring forth fully refreshed for a new day of aimless wandering as directed by the senior leadership team (which is always a small subset of the party expressed in simplest terms: everyone but Fiver). Zzzzzz.

"Oh, my apologies my boy, I thought you said 10 for the lot... Here good son, a great many more coppers for you. And 5 for doing such a whiz-bang job of minding the stand!" The soon to be re-armed knight throws down 25cp with a right wide smile and then stretches and wiggles his newly acquired and very professionally fitted appendages. 

Somewhere earlier I believe Hoofmonger asked the limbmongers about a qwest they had mentioned waayyy back in Act One. The Plague thing. Did they still care about that? Or do we have another lead on whatever saintly longsuffering Dee'Emm needs us to do next? Then Greg says nighty-night to the Night-y Knight, fist bumps with his non-hammy hands, grinning in limb-restored solidarity and gets to the pub for dinner and a long rest.

Though, nice as it is we have new limbs, gotta say missed the opportunity - I almost said several times but did not want to usurp the pun opportunity from its rightful (nightfall knightful) owner - the paladin never got to lay on hams.

Perfomance: 21

Looooooong rest 

Inspiration given for 'lay on hams.' And then taken away for the implication that I should have come up with it sooner. Shame on you!

Greg, the kids didn't answer you, they were distracted by their bizarre compulsion to insult Fiver. And now the moment has passed.

I'll assume nothing of import happens down the pub that night, and you are awakened the following morning in your various beds by a deep rumble like the very earth itself is moving. I cannot confirm at this point if this is just Burt giving Jalessa a successful "bardic alarm clock". 

Fiver taps into his dwarven skills to ascertain if this earth rumble is coming from beneath us, all around us, or from a specific direction. Perception 17

He duly informs everyone else of his ascertations, only to observe that they've already headed off in the direction of interest. 

Iradon leaves his house amid screams of his kids and wife. He then follows the sound of women screaming to find Burt, and by extension, the people he actually wishes to spend some time with

Fiver can sense that this is more than some mere hausfrau's ecstacy. The earth did indeed move, for everybody, however this is not the deep, long-period wave of a fathomless tectonic movement. This feels a little more local. 

(Could it be? Is it really? PLOT???)

(I was implying penguini, not nun, on punlack. but a lame hampoon isn't deserving of inspiration anyway)

(That seems awfully close to mockery swift. I want to condemn and distance myself from any such implications. last time you made the sun die. DM has been trying to steer us towards qwests and stuff, any failure is our fault not his)

Greg will come from the converted stable or whatever is centaur-appropriate wheel-accessible comfortable-lifestyle-costing accommodation around here - and join Fiver looking for the source and direction. What's up Hrairoo? Can we figure out what's imitating Burt's friends on a grander scale?

Perception 23

Fiver and Greg rush to the main street to see what's going on, but it's difficult to figure out because people are screaming and shouting and generally making a huge fuss about a sinkhole that's opened up and appears to have swallowed the Limb Aid stand whole. Cries for help come from the hole itself. Calls of "Get a rope" and "Get a ladder" and "Now in my mouth, Burt!" fill the air. It's all very distracting. Luckily the position of the hole is such that you can all meet up to discuss your next steps without rolling Athletics or Acrobatics checks. But if you want to anyway, be my guest.

Assuming that the cry of "in my mouth Burt" is loud enough, Iradon manages to find everyone. He then doesn't roll a check but instead looks in the hole, trying to judge a depth

The slumbering Knight wakes to a room filled slightly less with ham smells than usual, then comments on Burt seeming to make so much noise that it's woken the village. He stretches his new arms with a slight smile and dresses to go out and see what in the nines is happening. As he walks down toward the commotion, he realizes it has been quite a while since he's been to church which gives him a feeling of loss... of punportunity. He shrugs. Such deep thoughts are for the Bishops he thinks to hisself. And maybe people with other last names as well. He shakes it off, no sense belaboring the thought. And as he walks out into the <insert description of the> day, he sees Ira staring down into a hole.

"What say mate?" he asks as he looks down in the hole with Ira. "Burt blast another too far down?" He is not quite sure what he perceives so looks back up an Ira and asks "So how's the family?"

Woooo hoooo! A hole and peril? Anyone else here have a tunnel fighter backstory? No matter.

Fiver grabs his rope (I checked he actually has some!!). He deftly ties one end around himself, and passes the rest to Greg. Next he lights a torch (wooo, Fiver also has torches and tinderbox, even though he has darkvision!?!?) and chucks it into the sinkhole. Then Fiver looks in, is un-phased by whatever he sees, and descends. All that is left is for him to say something inspiring, succinct and manly/dwarfly before delving the void:

Mind my parasol.

Greg will be a bit back from the edge, since climbing is not his favorite, hooves and wheels being a bit of an impediment. But he'll hold the rope, Fiver suspended in mid-air I suppose, while we meet up and discuss like the DM said, Fiver (he says loudly as an aside) and asks Ira and TBK some important questions: Is it ok to lower the newby down there? Do we need more than 50 feet of rope? Are the kids ok or did somebody hit them with a torch? Burt, as frontman doesn't need to answer questions, but we ought to have a briefing prepared for him to ignore when he arrives after doing his important community service servicing. 

Iradon replies "Oh they are their normal screaming selves. I am surprised you didn't hear their screams as they must have been as loud as this screaming. Anyway, we can lower the newby down, but it isn't our fault if the rope breaks. 50ft might be enough depending on what the Dee em says about how deep it looks for me. And the kids seem fine, they have been hit by worse before. They were once hit in the head by an ogres club." (I lived here, so I know)