The Jupani ex-noble has been left alone in this chamber, save for the company of the scarred Siren, Raneah, who obeys his every command. There is no way to tell exactly how much time has passed. Days, weeks, maybe even a month or two could have gone by. The timepiece that Arkold had was damaged in that attack on the island, and is therefore quite useless.

Raneah has dutifully served her new master by catching fish for him, and finding some clumps of moss that, dried out somewhat, have served as a softer alternative to hard, cold rock to recline upon. There has been no further sign of the Triton, nor of his Sirens, nor any message. The only comfort might be that, amazingly enough, this trapped pocket of air hasn't diminished, despite Arkold being down here for so long.

So far as Arkold can tell, the Triton has kept his word, and no new bruises or injuries have appeared on Raneah. Her bruise from where Arkold hit her has faded, though the right side of her face is just as scarred as ever, and there are several other scars running across her body that give testament to the devastating effect of that exploding harpoon-spine. Whatever effect this has on her appearance, however, it would seem that she is still quite capable of shooting about in the water and finding her way around like any Siren would. Presently she demonstrates this, whipping her way around in the water of the cavern, doing laps, then changing direction and going the other way, sending glowing fish scattering in her wake.

"Eh," comments Arkold for no obvious reason. He shifts from where he has been "lounging" against the hard rock, his removed coat the only thing between his head and very uncomfortable rock. It's been awhile since he's actually had to do anything but lounge there. Normally he'd be all for this, but here, boredom is everpresent. "Hey, Raneah?"

Raneah abruptly stops one of her circuits, and twirls about, splashing up a spray of water that rains against the moss-covered cavern wall, prompting the luminescence there to dim then brighten then return to its usual glow. She quickly swims up to the rock, and floats right at the edge closest to Arkold. "Yes, sire?"

The wolf slowly begins pushing himself up to a sitting position. "Yah heard anythin' from the big fish 'imself? From 'em Sirens, … anyone at all?" he asks.

Raneah nods. "Yes, sire."

This answer prompts Arkold to pull himself up a great deal faster. The countless hours of waiting having made him eager for just about any news. "Report, Raneah. I gotta hear this," he commands.

Raneah ducks her head, then says, "A challenger has been testing our borders. Some of the lesser Sirens have gone to him. Triton is too busy with the Defilers to challenge him directly. They have attacked one of the birthing chambers."

"Uh, explain these 'birthin'' chambers? And yah think Tritonwould appreciate a li'l assistance in routin' his enemies?" inquires the Jupani.

Raneah says, "The challenger must be faced by Triton himself. It is our way. The Sirens assist their Sire in battles against enemies, but not against rivals who wish to challenge to become the new sire of the clan. That is for the Triton to handle himself. If he is strong and worthy, he will prevail. If he is old and weak, he will be slain, and the challenger will become our new Triton." She pauses for a moment, then says, "Their new Triton. I am no longer Siren. I am Given."

With a light thump Arkold drops his head into a hand, balancing the supporting arm on his knee. He considers this a moment before asking further questions. "So how yah think 'kin help in this?" His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "And yah didn't answer my question. What are these 'birthin' chambers'? Hm, and I guess a Given is like, given away, cause yer damaged goods?"

"Forgive me, sire," Raneah answers. "You have so many questions. I have trouble answering them all. You must be very wise."

"Of 'course I am," says the Jupani, ears perking a bit in surprise. (Heh, if she only knew … ) He grins toothily and nods. "Wise, yep … lessee. Okay, first question, does the Triton need my help in any way?"

Raneah answers, "The Triton lets you live, so you must be of value to him."

The waters at the far end of the chamber bubble and churn, as something slowly rises to break the surface. It looks like a giant jellyfish-like creature … like one of those creatures that "Captain Kitten" had to ride in during his trip to Marinopolis – the Abyssinian underwater city.

The wolf's head jerks up and he looks over at the shifting waters. "Ah, Dagh's … uh, man. What do you people say when yer upset anyway?" He pulls himself to his feet to stand facing the emerging jellyfish-creature.

Raneah says, "We say – " She then lets out an ear-splitting high-pitched makes-dogs-howl shriek that reverberates through the chamber.

"Ahhggh!" howls Arkold. He clutches his ears with both hands and buckles at the knees in discomfort. "Ah, I'll use my own! Gah!"

Raneah abruptly stops and looks crestfallen at Arkold's reaction. Meanwhile, the semi-translucent creature continues to rise, then bobs around, floating mostly submerged under the water. A Siren rises up from the water … and Raneah instinctively drops her gaze, not looking upon the other, a coral-red-colored mermaid with almost elfin delicacy to her features. She guides the jellyfish-thing toward the rocky shelf-island, announcing, "Triton sends you a gift, Off-Worlder."

"What?" asks Arkold as he removes a paw from his ear. He lifts lets both hands fall now that the noise has ceased and straightens again.

The jellyfish-thing floats up to the shelf, and it looks like there might be something floating inside it, obscured by the semi-translucent material. The coral-red Siren pats the creature, and the jellyfish-thing contorts …

The Jupani blinks a bit, glancing over towards Raneah. "What? What'd she say?" he asks her quickly before he returns forward. Curiously he steps forward and peers into the quivering mass.

Raneah says, "She commanded the Calypso to spit out its contents," matter-of-factly.

The jellyfish then does just this, and Arkold is abruptly blasted by a spray of water, and something wet and heavy that slaps into him, plus something heavier that knocks him back onto the rocky shelf.

With a grunt Arkold staggers backwards a few steps before he falls back against the rocky floor. A brief string of unintelligible curses color the chamber as he moves to get back up and see just what was spat at him.

It looks like there is a packet about the size of a Temple holy book wrapped up in seaweed, dripping water and … jellyfish-juice … and a humanoid form, shorter than Arkold, in a wetsuit. The latter coughs and sputters, and shifts to lift herself – yes, herself – up from the rocky shelf. She looks like a canine or vulpine … no, definitely a vulpine, albeit a very wet one. Her fur is darkened by moisture, but it might be golden in color when it dries. If it ever has a chance to, down here. She fumbles with a pair of goggles misarranged on her face.

The red-coral Siren then bows to Arkold … and disappears underneath the waters … the jellyfish-thing submerging and vanishing as well.

The wolf gives the departing a clumsy salute, too distracted by this catch to really pay attention to the Siren. While watching the vulpine adjust her eyewear he carefully leans down to pick up the book. "My species, eh?" he asks no one in particular.

As the wolf picks up the "book", some of the seaweed bits fall apart … to reveal a leather satchel inside. No, it's not a book … it feels as if the satchel is full of some sort of … powder.

The vixen coughs up more sludge and seawater, gasps for air a bit longer, then looks up at Arkold. "Oh! Oh, someone civilized!"

"All right!" barks Arkold. He grins widely at the package completely ignoring the vixen for a few seconds. Eventually though, he does look past the bag, which he clutches as if it were life itself, at the vixen. "Oh 'ey. Welcome to Siren H.Q."

The vixen says, "That's nice. Do you happen to know the way out?" Some bangles on her tail, with bits of seaweed tangled in them, make a *rattle* sound.

Shaking his head, the wolf answers, "Haven't a clue, toots. Not like I plannin' on leavin' any day soon either." He cocks his head to the side so as to examine the vixen's tail more carefully. "Vhai, I was hopin' fer a Jupani."

The vixen gives Arkold an indignant look, and scrambles further back on the rocky shelf. "Ahem! Do you mind?"

Raneah says, "He is your sire now. You must show him proper respect. He has the authority to kill you if you displease him."

The vixen just … stares at Raneah, jaw slightly agape in an incredulous look.

"Yah, ain't it great?" That grin plastered across his face threatening to wrap around his head, the wolf takes a few steps towards the vixen. He cocks his head the other way now. "Eh, anyway, s'like she says. So, eh … relax. I'm just tryin' to get a look at yah," he explains.

"Relax? Excuse me, but don't I get any say in this?" the vixen protests.

Arkold pauses to think about the question, one finger tapping the side of the clutched. "No," he finally answers. The hand that was tapping is lifted and he waves the Raneah away with it. "This vixen 'in I have, heh, matters to discuss. Yer dismissed."

Raneah dips her head subserviently … then disappears beneath the waters with a splash of her tail, even as the vixen cries out, "Wait!" Her call is ignored, however, and Arkold and his visitor are left alone on the rocky shelf.

Once Raneah has departed the Jupani turns back around and begins walking over towards the rock he had been sitting against earlier. He keeps an eye, however, on the vixen behind him by looking over his shoulder. "'Ey, relax. Yer fine for now, and I ain't thinkin' what you think I I'm," he flicks an ear, " … er, thinkin'. Heh, so relax. Tell me where yah came from?"

The vixen crawls back a few more steps nonetheless. She stammers, "S-s-Sinai."

"That's a bit vague," grumbles the wolf. As he nears the rocky bit that serves as his chair he stops and kneels down. "But hey, so'm I. Explain more would yah?"

The vixen says, "I … I volunteered for the Offworld Legion." She looks at Arkold's wetsuit. "You're a Legionnaire, too, though … " She bites her lip. "Uh … not a volunteer, I guess."

Her wetsuit is, sure enough, of Legion design, with markings that designate her as a noncombatant specialist. That's generally what gets done with the females anyway – they don't get mixed in with the rough-edged conscript males.

The pack is carefully set down against the rock, then covered with the Jupani's coat which he had been using as a pillow. "Heh, they sent me a smart one. You got it onna nose, toots. Exiled for murder and theft, and," he turns himself to look the vixen over again, "you definitely aren't. Why in Dagh's name did'ja join anyway?"

The vixen responds, "I am a specialist in antiquities. I came here to help explore this world, since there are many cultures here to be encountered. And, I am multi-lingual." She happens to be speaking in Khattan at the moment.

"Yah I see that. Figured out the Sirens speak Khattan, eh, smart one. Anyway I'm sure yer just itchin' to know what's gunna happen to you 'ere. Well, yer a gift to me from the Siren leader. So by them, you belong to me, just like Raneah does. Raneah is the damaged Siren yah just saw with me. Pretty ironic they gave me the Siren I maimed myself," he explains. During this he turns back to carefully tuck the edges of his coat around the package, securing it from sight and stray drops of water.

The vixen furrows her brows. "You did … that … to her?" She shrinks back a little more.

Arkold nods approvingly at his job of hiding away the package. Satisfied, he turns around and leans back to rest against the rock. "Oh, feh. Stop yer cowerin'. She was tryin' to kill me an my crewmates at the time. I hit 'er with a gun off the ship I served and I guess she survived. Probably wishes she hadn't, but eh, that's life eh?" He smiles a bit again. "Another thought for ya, I'm not a prisoner here. Eh, well not really. I serve their leader now, the Triton."

The vixen raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you do, hmm? A turncoat, I see?"

A snort escapes the Jupani, followed by amused laugher. "Ha! Turncoat?! It's not like I was invited on this sea cruise. They brought me here at weapon point!" He snarls, growling until his angry expression fades into a angry stare at the floor off to his right. "Ha, ha … ah … wouldn't have mattered anyway."

The vixen says, "But … you said you're not a prisoner."

"I meant not a prisoner of the Sirens, er, well not really. I'm still a prisoner, no matter where I go on this Dagh cursed planet. But eh, if you need a label, turncoat is fine. I sided with the Sirens because there ain't any other choice, and their benefits 'er better. Got you, didn't I?" answers Arkold as he continues to glare at the floor, not really focusing.

The vixen frowns. "So, you intend to force yourself upon me? I'm to be part of your little harem, hmm? Decided to 'go native'?"

The edges of the wolf's muzzle wrinkle in a snarl again. "Ah, shuddap! I was actin' so I could get a chance to talk to yah alone. I ain't that sorta scum," he replies.

The vixen looks up to the wolf. "Well, that's a relief. So … if you don't mind my asking … just what sort of scum are you?" There's a faint smirk at the edge of her muzzle.

Another snort and Arkold turns his irritated stare at the vixen. "I'm the scum that's the only thing keepin' you from being fish food, and little dingily bits on the ocean floor."

The vixen ahems. "And the sort that has no sense of humor, I see. I was just wondering where you hail from, and what landed you here."

"Eh, I'm just havin' a bad day," he barks. Arkold takes a deep breath, before he sits up again. "I'm from Sinai, from New Elamoore, although now it's probably Emir City. Hmf. I got here 'cause I had a, uh, great plan to raid the base beneath this island I got stuck on … er, somehow. It kinda wrong, and I got brought here instead."

The vixen mouths an "oh". "Well … I got split off from my party, when we got attacked by the Sirens. I was rather surprised that they didn't kill me. I guess they needed me to … ah … never mind that."

Arkold bobs his head understandingly. "Eh, yah, I guess they thought you were my species. Not that yer not quite a gift. Best gift I ever got," he tells her, grinning widely. "Heh, just so yah know, it'd be best if you played along with the whole harem deal."

The vixen fixes a steady gaze on Arkold. "Oh … and just how far is this 'playing along' supposed to go?"

The grin widens, and Arkold reaches to slick his hair back. "Realism is important in situations like this, eh, toots?"

The vixen says, "I could be worth more to you, if you promise you won't insist on that much 'realism' from me. But if you plan on just treating me as a cheap play-thing … then that's all you'll get."

The grin fades into a smirk and the wolf holds his hands up to calm the vixen. "Hey, hey. I can joke too, see? Angimmie a break 'ere, it ain't like they send anything like you my way in the Legion. Vhai, it's been a lon-, er, ah forget it. I ain't gunna do that, and I think we can work together on this. You'll just have to get used to me. Got a name?"

"Maza," responds the vixen. "And yours is … ?"

"Maza? Alright. I'm Arkold," answers the Jupani.

Maza smiles faintly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, then, Arkold."

"Though," she amends, "I take it that I should act subservient and call you 'sire' when in the presence of the Sirens, yes?"

Arkold smiles too, but at the moment he looks less friendly and more … lecherous. "Good idea, wouldn't want 'em to think you're gettin' outta my control. They kill their own for that much. You'll probably not say it often, since thisstay is more borin' than cleanin' a Urgan's hull. But we won't get many visitors except Raneah, and she'll go away when I say so."

Maza nods. "Ah. How do you get her back, though?"

"Oh I just yell for her until she hears me. Splash around, you know. But hey, you got any other skills? I need to know what you 'kin do cause I got a plan," says Arkold. His right hand reaches for the knife on his belt, and he unsheathes so as to lay it on his stomach.

Maza says, "I know a bit about some of the other cultures of this world, such as the Lazulians and the Nessians. Plus, I know a fair bit about the Abyssinians … though I would imagine that it's nothing much more than you, being a Legionnaire stationed here, would have picked up by now on your own."

"Yah that's right. The Sirens call the Abyssinians 'Abominations' 'cause they use 'splicing'. You saw it, right? The cutting and gluing of critters together? That's why the Sirens hate the Mariners so. They really don't care either way about the pirates they call, uhhhhh, 'Crippled', I think. They ride around in giant clams; you've probably heard of them. I don't like 'em one bit though, since their leader probably wants my hide." Carefully, Arkold unscrews the base of the knife on his stomach until he is able to remove it and slide out a vial. This vial he holds close to his eye to check its contents.

Arkold's ear perks up a bit. "The Lazulians! That's who they are. Yah, the 'Crippled'. Don't like 'em."

"Oh," says Maza. "Well, Lazulians come in several types. There are those who live on that floating city of theirs – Lazulia, amazingly enough – and then some of them live on the crystal islands. And then there are those outcasts – the Corsairs. So … how did you rub them the wrong way, hmm?"

The bottle gets shaken a bit. "Well, see, I was on a patrol with my fellows and their clam-boat came up from behind us.Pretty fast, since it caught up with our seaskippers. Therewas gunfire, and I – heh – ramped my seaskipper onto their ship and crashed it. This broke their boat, and then I broke the crew. Sons of the warlord no less. Gave one of them the butt of my gun, I did! Ha, it was good day," he explains.

Maza says, "Oh, really? They carry a lot of treasure on their boats. Did you find anything … of archaeological significance?"

"I found some sort of rapid-fire pistol? Pretty significant for me, by Dagh, if it ain't the best catch I ever made here. Well, that and you," says Arkold. He looks up from the vial long enough to shoot the vixen another grin. "There was other stuff. Looks like they had quite a party."

"A rapid-fire pistol? Does it work?" Maza asks, looking hopeful.

After shaking the vial one more time, Arkold sets it down on top of this jacket very carefully. In fact, likely more carefully than should be required. "It does, yep. Fully loaded too. The Sirens have it somewhere, but I'll get it back. It's my favorite gun, I gotta get it back."

Maza asks, "Can't your slave get it for you?"

"I don't think the Triton trusts me with guns yet, but ah, we can try," answers Arkold. He stands up again and cups his hands to his muzzle. "Raneah! C'mere!"

The voice echoes through the cavern. No response.

"Didn't you mention something about splashing around?" Maza offers.

(A sarcastic one. Lucky me.) "Right yah, splashin' around."Ears twitching in annoyance, Arkold walks over into the water near Maza and begins kicking around with his right foot. "Hey Raneah! Get back here!"

In short order, the surface of the water breaks, and the scarred mercat surfaces. "Yes, sire?"

The Jupani turns towards the scarred ex-Siren and gestures out towards where he thinks the open ocean is. "I came 'ere with some devices. One was a big metal one, shaped like this." He holds his hands up and tries to show what he think would be the outline of the gatling-pistol. "I need that; fetch it for me."

Raneah nods. "Yes, sire." And then she disappears under the water, splashing up a spray with her tail in her haste to depart.

Maza raises her hands reflexively to defend herself against the spray, sputtering. "Must she always do that?"

"Yah, it's their thing," says the Jupani as spray rains against him. He shakes himself off and kneels down to wait. "That Mariner ambassador did it all the time. Man, I hated that. But eh, looks like I may get my gun. You're actually smarter than I thought."

Maza rolls her eyes. "Wonderful."

Some time later … Raneah appears again. "Is this it, sire?" She holds up a gatling pistol, dripping water.

"Ah! Yes it is," answers the wolf. After getting up from his resting crouch he walks over and holds his hand out for the weapon. "Eh, good job there. Nice 'in fast."

The Siren swims over, grabbing hold of a rock for support as she stretches up and deposits the gun into Arkold's hand. Water spills out of the empty chambers.

At the sight of the empty chambers, Arkold frowns disappointedly. "Ah, well," he mutters. The gun is picked up and shaken off before he begins walking towards the vixen with it. "Yer dismissed, Raneah. I still got things I wanna share with this vixen. Heh."

Raneah bows her head again … then disappears. There's another big spray of water, which Maza gain vainly tries to shield herself from. "Can you ask her to do something about the splashing?" the vixen sputters.

More water rains across the wolf, all though it doesn't seem to bother him any. He just shakes it off again which, unfortunately, sends a bit of it towards the vixen. "I'll tell 'er next time," he replies as he hands the gun over.

The vixen looks the weapon over. "My! Yes, it's … It's Lazulian, all right!"

"So, what does that mean eh? How's that gunna help me? Er, us?" asks Arkold. He leans over to try and get a better look at the emptied gun. "Besides it bein' effective anyway."

Maza says, "The Lazulian Corsairs place great importance on these weapons. This was the personal gun of a Corsair Prince, I'm judging, by the workings here… " She traces her finger along some engravings on the exposed surface of the disengaged cylinder. There is some elaborate engraving work going around the holes of the empty chambers … something that Arkold never had cause to pay much attention to before.

The Jupani squints to look at the engravings even more carefully. "Oh yeah, huh, never really noticed that. Too busy hidin' it, I guess." He shakes his head in surprise and smirks a bit. "Come to think of it, it did come off a prince. He was kind enough to give it to me when I showed 'im my own weapon."

Maza smirks. "Oh, really. Well, in any case … believe it or not, what you have here is a map. Though you have to be able to read it."

"Huh? A map? What's a map doin' on my gun?" asks Arkold confusedly. He scratches at an ear, then reaches over and runs a finger along the weapon. "I speak Khattan, but eh, I never saw a map before. Ain't something I recognized. Can you read it?"

Maza hands the gun back to Arkold, then sits back, folding her hands behind her head as she reclines against one of the rocks. "Oh … maybe."

Arkold blinks a few times, then narrows his eyes. "Hey, we had a deal here. You gettin' sly on me? I don't appreciate tricks, vixen," he growls lowly.

Maza puts a finger to her muzzle in a thoughtful pose. "Oh, just hoping to increase my bargaining potential. And demonstrating just how useful I could be to you, if you treat me good."

The wolf growls to himself at Maza's response, muttering under his breath something that can't quite be made out. "Fine," he finally spits out. "Show me you got talent, and maybe I'll see yer treated better."

Maza smiles. "I'll call you 'sire' and I'll coo and swoon and act all gushy over you if I have to, to put on an act for the Sirens … but let's keep our relationship professional, shall we? For now, anyway." She winks.

The wolf, listening to this, just smiles dumbly. "Uh, sure, sure. S'was my plan anyway, but if that's what yah want … Eh, don't think I can do this alone anyway." He smiles a bit more and holds the weapon out. "So, uh, the map?"

"It leads to some sort of treasure, I would imagine," Maza says. "It would require some further study. It's something underwater, of course, like just about anything here that doesn't move. Could be his private cache, could be a sunken Nautilus … or it could be the lost city of Sutaranakh. I can't tell at just a glance. But if he bothered putting a map on his personal sidearm, you can bet it would make you filthy rich."

"You know, if I wasn't a conscript trapped on a watery world, the flunkie of a Siren, I'd go for that. Except," the wolf gestures around to the cave, "we're trapped under the water. And yah know, I ain't got any reason to bother with so much money. What do yah think's gunna happen if I get it, eh? It's gunna be taken away from me, and I'll just get shoved back in a cell."

Maza frowns. "Well … there are other cultures on this world."

Arkold settles himself back down on the rock near Maza and folds his hands over his knees. "Eh, I've seen them. The Corsairs want me dead, the Legion wants me to die for them,the Abyssinians smile at me … but I don't trust 'em, and the Sirens … well they got the best offer so far. But I know that ain't gunna last, cause I'm sure the Triton will get rid 'o me when my usefulness is done." He spits off to the side before laying his muzzle across his hands. "And if I got back to Sinai, it's the same story. Abaddon too. Oh and, eh, probably Arcadia."

Maza smiles, swiveling her shoulders. "Well, then, you can just let me have the treasure, and you'll have my eternal gratitude!"

"C'mon, I know yer funny, but this is serious," replies the wolf.

Maza says, "Well, maybe you could change your identity. You could pass for an Abaddonian, you know. They have Jupani, too. Surely the whole system can't be devoid of a place for you to retire to in comfort. You are such a pessimist!"

"Oh," the Jupani rolls his head to look at the vixen, "I, hey … pessimist? Rrr, it's just the truth! Ahhhh, curse you! What do you know? You volunteered! You can't be any guru on makin' wise life decisions." He glares off at a wall now, hackles raising.

Maza just shrugs at this. "I suppose you have a point there."

Arkold drops his head back down onto his arms and huffs. His glare melts, and his expression fades into a look that resembles tired more than angry. "Hey, did yah see anyonenamed Hammerhand out there anywhere? A Skreek, or eh, a big sea-Naga?"

Maza shakes her head. "No, I don't know any Skreeks or Sea-Nagas on this world. I was with a pretty small group. And things have gotten pretty ugly. The Sirens have been making all-out assaults on the Abyssinians and the Offworld Legion. Gateway Island is at full alert."

"Is it? Man! That's not good!" With a jerk the wolf sits up, then reaches over for the vial on the package. "My plan ain't gunna work if they're all dead! Curses! And 'ey, I haven't even told yah it! See, my idea was to get in good with the Triton, then I could use my contacts back in the Legion to make some kinda peace. And if I can't do it, I kin get someone who can. But it won't work if there is too much fightin'."

Maza frowns. "Well, they could certainly use some peace right now." She cocks an ear. "How do you plan on pulling this one off?"

The wolf pauses and looks at Maza strangely. "I'll figure that out after I start! But uh, basically, the Triton has to trust me. Then I'm gunna find some way to get at the Offworld Legion and Mariners so I kin tell them what I've learned. Maybe then, they'll do somethin'. Maybe they'll stop this splicin' and the Sirens will cease attacking them. I don't even know if the Mariners know why the Sirens hate them," he explains.

Maza says, "Well, the Mariners don't think too highly of the Sirens – or at least the Tritons that rule over them. To the Abyssinians, the Tritons are inbred, misogynistic, murdering savages."

"Oh, uh, hm. Well, maybe they just don't understand 'em like I do? They seem like a buncha nature-lovers who are appalled at this butchering of living things. And it ain't gunna help the Mariners if they don't bend some. It ain't gunna be easy by any means. And if it won't work, I'll think of somethin' else. I could probably convince the Triton to attack the Lazulians, maybe. Dunno how that'd help though," he says. His ears flatten and he returns to resting his head on his arm, vial in hand. "Got any better ideas?"

Arkold says, "Maybe I could challenge the Triton for rulership, yah think?"

Maza looks Arkold up and down. "Maybe if you could learn to breathe water, and grow a fish-tail. The Triton is the 'sire' of all these Sirens. If you can't produce little Tritons and Sirens, you aren't going to qualify as their new leader."

Arkold clenches his fist and strikes the ground. "Well, Vhai! I'm a soldier, not a politician! If I had good plans, I wouldn't be stuck in this cave on this world," he gruffs. "I only got one plan now. Gain his trust, then I kin act with more freedom. Maybe somethin' else will come to me then."

Maza nods. "Well, let's see … first things first, though, we need to figure a way to get you out of this cave. You can't do much to help him while you're stuck in here. And I don't think he'll approve of us using breathers."

"Good point. I'll ask Raneah if she's got somethin'. Maybe they got their own breathers, or organic ships, or whatever. Hold this." The vial is offered over to the vixen, and Arkold watches her carefully. "Make no mistake, what's in that vial is what's keepin' me in such a good mood. Break it, and it's your funeral."

Maza offers, "How about what they brought me in with? One of those Calypsos? They can hold an amount of air inside their bodies, for starters." She carefully, daintily holds the vial.

Arkold considers this, then nods approvingly. "'Ey, yer gettin' more and more useful all the time," he says. He then leans over and picks up a smaller rock which he throws into the water. "Raneah!"

A short while later, and Raneah pops up. "Yes, sire?"

"Sirens are true amphibians, you know," Maza idly comments, then quickly adds, "sire," in a breathy voice, putting on an adoring pose.

"'Ey, I wanna show my usefulness to the Triton. Can't do it 'ere though, sittin' doin' nothin'. I hear there are places yah need me. Go see if yah ki-," he pauses to smile approvingly towards the vixen, "kin get anyone's ear and see if I'm needed to fight. If not, see if yah can get me a Calypsos-jellyfish and get me somewhere I kin do somethin'!"

"Oh yah, see if you can get me somethin' that lets me breathe underwater like you can!" adds Arkold.

Raneah pauses a bit, then nods her head. "I will do as you command, sire." And with that, she dives into the water … and sends another spray of water into the air with a splash of her tail. This time, Maza uses Arkold for cover.

"Well," ponders Maza as Raneah departs. "I hope you don't mind if, while she goes about on that errand … I try to catch a little rest here. It's been … a very long day for me. I hope you'll understand."

As usual, Arkold gets sprayed. And being a shield he takes most of it himself. He does not, however, seem to mind. He does keep grinning, though. "Eh, go ahead. You'll sleep a lot here. Just try not to panic when yah wake up and realize yer farther down than you ever should be," he answers. "Good job on the sire bit, too."

Maza smirks. "Anytime," she says, as she tries to find something remotely resembling a comfortable spot amidst the rocks and tufts of dried moss.

The Jupani reaches over and picks up the package wrapped in his jacket. He glances at Maza trying to get comfortable, then his jacket, then Maza. He shrugs a bit and tightens the garment around the package even more before he uses the whole thing as a pillow and lays down. "'ave a nice rest there," he says, grinning just a bit more.