Shut Up and Standby
One very sneaky Mars Djinni had a plan.
Forge slowly teased the strap of Matthew's bag open, releasing a single brown light.
"Worthy stage-hand," he said in a resonant voice.
"At yer service!" cried Vine.
"Set up Hama. No, Macbrick. Perhaps A Midsummer's Night Dream Leaf… But first! The audience."
"Yes sir!" Vine grinned mischievously.
A few minutes later Matthew, Karis, Tyrell, Rief, and Amiti were tied to chairs around the campfire. Tyrell, for practical purposes, wore a fashionable piece of duct tape on his mouth.
Forge was currently holding a skull painted purple.
"Alas, poor Saturos! I knew him well. Um, next line. Line. LINE! Ah, forget it. Er, Isaac, Isaac, wherefore art thou, Isaac?"
"Congrats, Forge," Karis muttered sarcastically. "It's a new record. You've changed plays seventeen different times tonight. That beats last week's twelve changes."
"Well," Forge began haughtily, "I am a master of Kraden Shakespeare."
"…?"
"Don't doubt me, young man! Why, your father Isaac said I was the best actor he knew. Hem-hem. Et tu, Karst?
"Eighteen."
"To use Mind Read, or not to use Mind Read. That is the question."
"Nineteen."
"Frailty, thy name is Amiti."
"Twenty."
"HEY!"
(With his long cape, Forge certainly looks the part.)