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テキスト版 この話の文字版 — アクセシビリティ、スクリーンリーダー、検索のためのものです。
A housing-weary tenant, his Goth lawyer girlfriend and a vain necromancer try to prove the living and the dead can share a house fairly. Cheap rent, utilities included, undead housemates. At least they don't eat your food.
ページ 1
An older man stands in the center with one hand raised. A young man crouches at left holding a can, and a woman stands at right holding a book. Skeletal hands emerge from rubble in front of a glowing altar. Visible text: “CUL-DESACrifice,” “The Altar in the Cupboard,” “NO. 1,” “$9.95,” and “Oct 2026.” There is no dialogue.
ページ 2
In a stone basement room, a gray-haired man stands near a floor drain as a young man kneels beside a toolbox and a black-haired woman stands by the cabinets. The gray-haired man says, “Mr Keane. Miss Shaw. What are you doing?” The kneeling man replies, “Just finishing up here, Mr Black. Got that flooded floor channel fixed up like you wanted.” He explains, “Fairly straightforward thing, really. Just a buildup of blood that dried a little at some of the joints. I was able to clear it out and put a coating on it that'll stop the blood from drying out and building up again.” He continues, “Oh yes, and while I was at it, I noticed those air vents were releasing some kind of gas, so I closed those off too, so that code problem doesn't bite you in the butt later.” The woman says, “And now the room smells so much better. That blood buildup was pretty gross. Erasmus.”
ページ 3
In a stone chamber, the older man touches the wall; the woman and young man speak, and the older man later raises a finger. Several notes on the wall contain symbols that are not readable as text. Older man: I have noticed multiple things wrong with this picture, Miss Shaw. I'm not sure which one has priority, though. Woman: Calm yourself, Septimus. You don't strictly need air anyway. They are not wrong. We can discuss your release mechanisms later. Miss Shaw: Septimus? Sam! Did you knowingly seal a sentient entity inside the walls without its consent? Sam: Of course not. Septimus knows he's not supposed to be in the air ventilation. Only the gas pipes. I explained that to him while I was working. Sam: Don't pretend you're hard done by, mate! If you keep leaking out through the air vents, it'll just be a matter of time before you accidentally smother another innocent. I don't want to answer the front door and find a dead Uber Eats driver alongside my lunchtime burrito. Septimus: Miss Shaw, this is my personal chamber of dark ritual and sacrifice. Certain accoutrements are necessary and symbolically important and...