War is hell. And right now, it looks like Buran's smack dab in the middle of hell. Most everyone is too busy fighting to notice her yet, but who's to say when someone will dispatch his current foe and see the Sphynx while looking for another target? Though the melee is hard to keep track of, it looks like huge Jupani in crude skins and piecemeal armor are pitting raw savagery and brute strength against smaller foes, uniformly armored and apparently about as disciplined as one can be in such chaos. Cervani seem to be the bulk of the smaller combatants, mingled with humans and others while Korv wing overhead in arrowhead formations, occasionally breaking off to dive on vulnerable units. Amidst these conventional troops lumber great machines, belching smoke and steam as they clumsily wade through troops, swinging or firing unwieldy but still deadly weapons.

Buran, who doesn't have any experience (well, perhaps a little if you count that incident in the Naga Empire) with close combat, much less war, is obviously rather surprised at the new surroundings. However, the fact that it's rather easy to get killed out here is immediately obvious. For this reason, the Sphynx quickly looks around for any form of shelter, or to see if perhaps flying away from the carnage is a viable escape route. She hopes that the little black ball she brought with her hasn't been lost – it's all she's got – at least, that she knows of at the moment.

The skies don't look much safer… arrows, bolts, hammers, rocks, lead-shot, tree-trunks carved into fists… just about every variety of missile one can think of hurtles up in attempts to bring the Korv marauders out of the sky, or ward them away from the mechanized beasts roving around the field. The avians' agility and their light armor seem to help, but it doesn't help all of them… The ground doesn't seem much better, but on a rise some distance away stands a regiment of the smaller combatants. A tall Cervani astride a drokkar surveys the field from higher ground with the rest of his unit. A bearer near him carries a battle standard, which bears a mailed fist backed by the outline of a golden cog. On the end of the standard pole is set a brass lantern in the shape of a Cervani's head. The flames inside it appear to make the eyes blaze.

The Sphynx edges cautiously toward a somewhat-nearby group of boulders, rationalizing that they're probably the safest place to be. Tapping someone on the shoulder and saying "Excuse me, but I'm lost… " isn't likely to do anything other than get her shot, or otherwise killed, so Buran decides to try to remain as unobtrusive as possible among the rocks until the carnage dies down and then perhaps make it to the safety of that forest in the distance… or perhaps to a settlement. Buran tries to appear as small and unobtrusive as possible.

The cluster of boulders proves to be a fairly good hiding place, being slightly elevated, and possessing some cracks to slip between, and from this vantage, it's easier to understand the battle, by a bit. From what the Sphynx might be able to surmise, it looks like Chronotopian forces are holding off an assault by giant barbarian Jupani. The barbarians are evidently dangerous foes, and are pressing up the hill slowly but surely. The Cervani commander at the top of the hill finally moves, drawing a steel longsword, and pointing downward. "Cavalry, ready… !" he shouts, and armored troops on heavy-set drokkar crest the hill. "CHAAAARGE!" The regiment begins thundering down the hillside, bristling with lances, like a wave about to wash over Buran's boulder island, and the barbarians fighting around it.

One thought goes through Buran's head at this: ( Oh, boy. ) She slips between two boulders toward the center of the 'island' and, tucking her wings in as far as she can to avoid getting them caught on something, hopes that she'll manage to not get injured (or worse) in the stampede.

The cavalry part to swarm around the boulders as they clash with the barbarians and some of their bizarre machines. One can almost feel the impact of the two forces coming together. Despite the strength of the barbarian attackers, the cavalry seems to be washing them back, leaving a relatively clear spot between the boulders and up the hill.

A Sphynx eartip pokes ever so slightly above the boulders as its owner cautiously looks in the direction in which the cavalry has gone, but Buran isn't inclined to move out of the rockpile. Not yet.

The battle below the boulders begins in earnest, the drokkar riders discarding embedded or broken lances to draw swords or horseman's flails as the fighting becomes close and deadly. Several of the barbarians are cut down, and a number of riders are in turn pulled off their drokkar. One of the hulking raiders actually picks UP a drokkar, rider and all, and hurls the struggling beast onto its side. Meanwhile, the commander holds his own amongst his troops, while the standard bearer keeps his distance a little, closer to where Buran is hidden. Unfortunately, his bright brass lantern and standard has attracted several machines to where the young buck is holding the banner.

Buran watches the buck carefully, remembering all the people she met in Blitzheim, but also keeping a wary eye on those battle-machines. They look rather deadly.

He looks young, possibly in his teens, and not at all certain as he draws a chitin sword that looks woefully inadequate compared to the clanking monsters closing on him. Some footsoldiers nearby engage one of the beasts, drawing it away, and another is harassed by Luftrittern, but a third approaches the young Cervani. The machine looks absurd and yet malevolent at the same time. Something like a giant barrel on its side, with three wheels on either side. Jets of steam hiss from spigots around some of the shoddy-looking jumble of ironwood, stone, ceramic, even bone and chitin parts that drive the wheels. A stout pipe of some sort of molded stone belches gouts of oily black smoke from the top of the barrel, while several arms at odd points around the machine wave spikes, blades, odd-looking projectile launchers, and snapping claws. Cranking and grinding noises echo from a slit in the front of the barrel, and at points around the sides where other viewports exist.

Buran's interest in such things stirs, but the Sphynx's self-preservation instinct is stronger. Buran tries to get a good look at the strange contraption, but she stays in her hiding place. She looks back and forth between the … thing … and the young boy.

The Cervani standard bearer backs slowly away from the advancing machine. "Back, Contraption!" he cries, in a thin attempt at fierceness. The contraption replies with a spray of thick, black liquid. The Cervani youth manages to leap aside, as the gooey stuff splatters against the rocks, and rapidly hardens into tough, rubbery gunk. The boy's momentum carries him past the point his balance can right itself, and he falls heavily on his side, coals spilling from the gleaming brass lantern topping his standard.

Buran eyes the contraption, then glancing toward the Cervani. The thought comes into her mind that it means to kill him … and that's not an idea she relishes. Hoping the overcast sky and the hovering smoke will provide some cover, she edges out of the rockpile and over to the boy.

The struggling bearer manages to pick himself up enough to glance at Buran, first in terror, then in simple surprise as he realizes she's not a foe. (Or at least, doesn't look like one.) "W-Who're you?" he stammers, in his native tongue. The Contraption, as the boy called it, seems to be grinding at some inconveniently situated rocks under its wheels as it attempts to adjust its aim.

Buran switches back to the accented Bosch she picked up during her stay in Chronotopia, hoping that its long disuse in Rephidim hasn't rendered it useless. "A traveler. And, it seems, you could use some help from one." She looks nervously at the contraption. "Perhaps – we should get away from that? Before it gets unstuck?"

"Yes, yes! We have to get around it before it can aim again!" The grateful-looking Cervani starts to get to his feet, then suddenly grimaces in pain, clutching above his left hoof. "Aagh, my ankle! I… I think I turned it!" There's a groan from the contraption as it finally clears the stones and turns to point the goo-gun in Buran's and the bearer's direction.

The Sphynx holds out her arms. "I'll carry you. I won't drop you. Promise. I don't like the look of that thing." As she speaks, she glances nervously at the contraption.

The boy doesn't respond, but simply grits his teeth, some tears squeezing from his clenched eyes. He reaches up to put his arm over the Sphynx' shoulder, his free hand clutching the brass-headed staff.

Buran settles the boy into what she hopes will be a semi-comfortable position, one that won't strain his apparently-sprained ankle too much, and takes off at a brisk clip toward the nearest shelter – and, she hopes, out of sight of that … thing.

The Sphynx' escape seems practically assured, her strength and wings aiding her. Unfortunately, the Cervani makes the mistake of clutching the banner staff… the butt of it wedges against part of a jutting boulder. The split second slowdown seems to make the difference as another spray of gunk flies at the pair. The stream catches Buran in the back, thick rivulets of sludge splashing over her. None of it hits her in the face, thankfully… however, it's splashed over most of the rest of her, and begins hardening almost immediately.

Buran mutters something under her breath, more to herself than to the boy or anything. This stuff, whatever it is, seems to be keeping her from moving – but at least it's not doing anything other than that, at least so far. Of the boy, she asks, "What is this stuff?" while nervously looking at the contraption again and trying to get un-stuck.

"I… I wish I knew! I c-can't move!" The contraption begins moving closer, opening some sort of grasping attachment, like a cloth-padded lobster's claw. "If it weren't for me, this wouldn't have happened! I'm sorry… I'm sorry… " The youngster tries to look away from Buran as tears stream down his face, and he stifles a sob.

The Sphynx eyes the claw warily as she tries to calm the child. "Don't be. I'm the one who tripped. I'm sure it'll be all right, in the end." Privately, she hopes that her words aren't empty ones.

The claw closes on the gunked up pair, and lifts them clear from the ground. It then begins the arduous task of turning around, and lumbering back through the battle, amongst its bretheren. Whatever the tide of battle for the rest of the day, it doesn't matter for Buran and the young standard bearer, for the strange wooden monster carries them away from it to… who knows where?