A small caravan makes its way across the blasted landscape, the slightly tarnished Bio-Dome – once Confederate, now Imperial – behind them.

The wagons are a mix of self-propelled vehicles rolling on wheels or treads, one guardian Titan, and a number of more primitive wagons being pulled along by an assortment of beasts of burden to be found on this land (none of them of the insectoid variety, since a journey of this length outside of a Bio-Dome wouldn't suit them).

Several of the wagons are of Himarian design, pulled by Dromodons and Drokars and other beasts native to Sinai – or the "Pit of Himar". These include a few merchants and brave citizens of Elamoore – or just some unlucky travelers who happened to be visiting at the time the "Boomer" dropped – who are set on returning to Sinai.

A puttering metal wagon is at the head of the group, a couple of black Vartans, a white bat, and an armored cheetah riding in the back, while a helmeted Naga handles the wheel, occasionally pushing a myriad of "tail levers" with his coils, to control the noisy contraption. He occasionally sips a sampling of the fuel used to run the engine.

Zoltan clings to his seat, fidgeting with the heavy pack on his shoulders. "The Titanians would love it here," he murmurs.

Just then, the wagon turns around a craggy corner, making its way around the broken ridges of rock … and there, up ahead, are a bunch of really big wolves carrying hammers!

There also happen to be several men in uniforms and gas masks that make their faces look something like skulls, except that skulls typically don't have spikes sticking out of the top.

The Vartan's eyes widen. He blinks, rubs them, and then blinks some more. "Who are they?" he scrawks to the driver, slowly rising up to his feet.

Behind the soldiers are several big metal machines with cannons on top and which would roll (if they were moving) on treads. They've been referred to as "tanks" or "panzers". It would seem that this pass between the rocky ridges has a bit of a blockade stretching across it.

Banners can be seen flying – a white circle on a red field, with some sort of black symbol on it, which consists of five lines radiating out from a center, with arms turning off of each one … in a way that sort of suggests a five-spoke wheel.

"Kampfzengruppe," says the Naga driver. "They must have gotten here first." He flicks his tongue in annoyance as he presses a tail-pedal that slows the vehicle to a stop, and pops a lever to take it out of gear. The rest of the caravan slows down to a stop as well.

The Titanians – there's just no mistaking them for anything else – wave their hammers around excitedly. The soldiers – all of them armed with rifles of varying sizes – seem poised mostly to keep a watch on the caravan, but some of them seem to be covering the Titanians as well.

Zoltan turns to Herbir. "Have you heard of these people? Are they dangerous?"

Herbir nods. "I've heard of them. Not had to deal with them. They're all humans. Some offshoot from the ones with the zeppelins, I guess," he scrawks in Vartan. "They don't deal much with the other races." He gestures to the Titanians. "Present company excepted, I guess." He smirks for some reason.

The younger Vartan nods and slides off the wagon. He keeps his hands out and away from his swords and steps forward, looking about for a leader in the 'Kampfzengruppe'.

If appearances are any indication, the bulk of the soldiers appear to be dressed in quite drab attire, a dull rusty mottled gray that makes them blend in with their surroundings somewhat. However, one of them is adorned in a more decorated sort of uniform, complete with a flowing cape, and some sort of heraldry on his helmet and pauldrons. He appears to be arguing with a big lupine. It wasn't easy to notice at first, but there appears to be a feline in nomadic robes standing in the shadow of the wolf. The crystal chamber shouldn't be much further past this pass … and, actually, would be about the location of where several plumes of smoke and steam can be seen rising into the air beyond.

( Well, I'm not going to learn anything by sitting around and staring… ) Zoltan moves forward and clears his throat. "What is going on here?" he scrawks.

The Titanian, Khatta and armored human all pause in their … conversation, turning to face Zoltan.

A black shape circles overhead, then slowly lowers down toward the caravan. Amidst the smoke and haze of Abaddon, the shape resolves itself into the familiar form of a certain corvid corsair, who lands lightly on the wagon.

Swallowing, the Vartan takes another step forward. He looks to the Titanian and drops into standard. "You come herre from Himarr?" he scrawks, his accent more pronounced since he's had little need to speak in standard for so long.

The big hairy Titanian (okay, so they're ALL big and hairy) looks to the Vartan. "Ah! One speak good! I Ramjaw!" He pounds his chest. "Want more metal from spike-heads!"

Kensington glances back and forth, then sees fit to nudge the dark Vartan. "They 'olding us up, 'ere? I saw a ways ahead, there be some strange goin's on 'round the crystal whatchimoe."

Zoltan's eyes flick up as he spots the Korv. "What happen here?" He glances back at Kensington as he speaks this, aiming his question at both the Korv and the assembled men.

"Is there a problem, gentlesirs?" calls out a plump feline merchant from his carriage. He has used that same phrase every single time the caravan has slowed down for the trip … and several times more when he must have merely imagined it.

Ramjaw says, "We go on pilgrimage to red land. Go through storm. Find rolly-machines and spike-heads, and lots of little weirdy-guys and fat-cats." The nomad scowls at the Titanian, but Ramjaw continues, oblivious. "Nomads give dirt to spike-heads … get lots of nice metal! We carry dirt for spike-heads, get metal, too! Want more." He smiles happily.

"Fer the hundredth time, I'll give ye a problem if ye don't shut yer fish-hole!" snaps the Korv. That said, Kensington switches to Vartan to address Zoltan again. "I dunno… but I saws lots o' dirt up there. Black dirt, none o' this red Abaddon stuff. Not on'y that, but I 'ears Bosch bein' spoken."

The leader-type starts speaking in a language that most present just can't quite comprehend.

Zoltan taps his beak. "We just wants to get through to crystal. May we be allowed to pass?"

Kensington gives the leader an odd look, then leans toward Zoltan. "'E says the Kampfzengruppe annexed this 'ere place. They ain't lettin' no-ones in, 'cept their scientists."

Ramjaw frowns at this. "Scientists? Wamsy pamsy scientists? Bah! … What's a scientist?"

The Vartan sighs. "Kensington… tell him thats we is from the same place as Titanians and they is blocking passage home. They can follow us if they likes but we promises that all we wants to do is return to our homeland."

The Korv nods, and addresses the decorated human, replying in that same, rough-sounding language.

The leader listens to Kensington, then makes some sort of a gesture with his arms, and several masked faces turn to regard the Korv. The leader speaks excitedly in response.

Zoltan looks questioningly at Kensington.

The corsair starts to tell Zoltan, "'E seems 'appy I speak Bosch, and says somethin' might be arranged. An' th' fellow wants to know how many … " He pauses and furrows his brow, then speaks again. This time it's in Bosch again.

The leader looks at the caravan, then back to Kensington. He talks some more.

The plump merchant from the caravan yowls again, "What is going on here? This is unbearable! Are we there yet?"

The younger Vartan looks over at the Caravan, trying to get a rough headcount of the size of the group. "No mores than fifty… "

Kensington rolls his eyes, and laughs smugly as if at some joke the leader told. His reply sounds friendlier, and his stance a bit more relaxed… right up to the point he turns around to yell, "I swear, iffen ye don'ts close that trap o' yours, I'll spits ye on a stick and leaves ye here fer the rot worms!" He returns to pleasant conversation.

The leader scratches at his gas mask thoughtfully, saying something to Kensington, then turns to gesture and shout at his soldiers. They start moving aside, and one of the tanks starts spewing clouds as it rumbles to life, and moves aside, freeing up the pass. Beyond can be seen the crystal building, and a number of tents … plus several metal girders rising up from spots on the ground in a circle about the crystal structure.

Zoltan steps back a little and leans on the side of the wagon near Herbir. He holds his tongue for now, figuring the Korv has the situation well in hand.

The leader turns to Kensington again, rattling off several things to the Korv.

Several of the soldiers start moving toward the wagons and vehicles of the caravan. The plump Khatta merchant yowls again, "Ah … gentlesirs? What is happening?"

Kensington nods at the Kampfzengruppe officer, and turns back to Zoltan, gesturing ahead. "Seems they gots a good idea 'ow this 'ere thing works, now. 'E says it works only once a day, one way. They're sendin' a shipment of metal through, and we can go after it fer 'owever long th' gateway 'olds. They gotta time how stuff goes through, so there be no crashin' on th' other side, and they gotta check yer people fer boomers an' party favors. Safety first, I guess."

"Good job, Kensington," Zoltan scrawks, dropping back to Vartan. "The search may take a bit… Most of us are hauling metal and weapons. They don't plan to confiscate them, do they?"

Kensington turns his head back toward the merchant. "Th' officer says we can go through, soon! They just haves a problem wiffa really surly Titanian who 'ates th' feline merchant class on account of 'e's so poor. His hearin's great, but 'is eyesight's not so good, so maybe 'e won't notice ye if 'e can't hears ya."

This earns an audible GULP from the plump merchant … who says no more … for now. A few protests can be heard as the soldiers start roughly going through the crates and trunks of the caravan. It's a not-very-friendly process, and the Himarians have to spend quite some time just putting things back in order, but it appears that the soldiers didn't find anything irregular. From the amount of junk visible, it would seem that the caravaneers have been hauling every piece of scrap metal they could get their paws on.

The corsair shrugs at Zoltan. "I dunno… I think he's worried about stuff that mights explode. Ammo or bombs are a no-go."

The leader waits for a report from his soldiers, then barks something to Kensington, and makes a waving motion with his hand.

Zoltan pats his sides. "I have the bullets for my sidearm and gunblade. Will I need to leave those behind?" He eyes the merchant.

The Korv nods at the signal, and says, "We're clear, Zoltan. They wants yer people not ta touch nothin', and to follow directions till they're through. Seems likes they didn't find nothin' disagreeable … if ye wanna ask the officer about yer gunblade, I'll ask 'im fer ye. If not, it might not be anythin' ta worries aboot."

"I carried the bullets through one way… it should be alright for- ACK!" The Vartan starts and then goes fumbling through the strands of his tail. "I almost forgot… Wynona! Wynona!!"

Kensington's eyes bug out. "She ain't in th' caravan?!"

Wynona squeaks, "Of course I'm here, silly!"

"Is not thats… " Zoltan pulls a piece of crystal from the strands of his tail. "Wynona, remember the shiny you gots from tower back on Sinai? I think you goings to have to leave it here."

Wynona says, "Ah … I guess I can always get another one." She shrugs, and digs through her satchel, producing the crystal fragment. She looks about, then hands it to a passing soldier.

The corsair jumps, then looks back. "Strike me, but ye were so quiet, I didn't even know ye were there. Well, 'at's a relief."

Kensington caws, "'E says, 'Thanks, O Captivatin' One'."

Wynona says, "Really?" Her ears blush.

Zoltan walks over to Kensington and crouches down to look eye-to-eye with him. "Remember all those spots where the boomer no transported anyone to here? Was where Herbir buried a crystal. I think that they no lets tings from Abaddon travel to Sinai… was why Wynona and I no were able to go back through gate before. Hrr… You might wants to tell soldier that if he worried about lots of people coming heres."

"Ye don't say? Rawk" The corsair rubs his lower beak thoughtfully. "Aye, they'd wants ta know about that. Where are these crystals from? Did ye breaks it outta one o' th' gates?" He hops down from the caravan to relay the message, and shuffle the soldier along toward his superior.

"From one of the broken pieces of the Sinai tower," Zoltan scrawks.

The officer looks at the crystal handed to him by the soldier, listening to Kensington.

There's a shout from the crystal building.

The Vartan's ears perk up and he stands up to get a better look at the source of the shout. The past couple of months have made him jumpy.

The Kampfzengruppe officer makes a waving motion at the caravan, yelling something of his own.

Kensington returns to the caravan, boosting himself back up onto it. "Sounds like their cargo's through. I'm guessin' they're gonna shuttle yer people on through, now, quick as they can." He waves his wing at the Kampfzengruppe leader, shouting something.

Kensington nods at Zoltan. "Give the order, let's go."

Zoltan nods, grinning. "Men of Sinai… let's GO!" He waves his arm and marches forward.

The caravan moves forward, toward the crystal chamber. The chamber's crystal doors are still open, and large enough for most of the wagons. Alas, some are too wide, and some of the Himarians are so desperate that they hurriedly shift what they can onto the other wagons, leaving many belongings behind – in favor of having more space to carry the precious iron.

The plump merchant can be heard remarking, "These people are trading iron … iron … for … dirt?" He shakes his head at the presumed insanity of the business the Kampfzengruppe is doing with the Sinaians on the other side.

The powered vehicles pull aside, letting their passengers disembark, the Imperial drivers and the Titan escort having provided their protective service for this part of the journey. Wynona travels light, only having a couple of interesting little metal baubles in the way of souvenirs, rather than loading up with every ingot she can carry.

All around the crystal chamber can be seen machines working on digging out the red Abaddonian dirt and shoveling it aside, making way as foundations are laid for a big structure large enough to fully enclose the crystal chamber. Other such foundations can be seen here and there, radiating outward from this central location. This construction must have been going on for some time… and is a long way from completion.

Herbir lets out a low whistle. "So this is going to get us HOME, eh?" he scrawks in Vartan.

Zoltan checks in his two swords, one of the Confederate gunblades and a smaller iron sword that has the beginnings of some new spirit runes etched across it as well as the black armor and its accompanying weapon on his back. He looks back at the wagon behind him, smiling, and then steps through the portal. ( Home… we're finally going home! )

The corsair looks back over his shoulder at the bleak landscape of Abaddon one more time before pressing through the gateway. "Just another port o' call."

The Vartan is allowed to keep his weapons. Apparently the Kampfzengruppe is concerned about larger varieties of ammunition…

As the avians pass through the portal … a familiar sensation wrenches them out of reality as they know it, stretching them across the expanse between Abaddon and the distant world of Sinai…

After some disorientation – and dizzying effects – the two avians – and several others – tumble back into reality in Sinai. Or so it seems. When their senses clear, it is apparent that they're still standing … and being ushered along by some soldiers, these not bothering to wear the skull-like gas-masks, though they're still wearing those buggy goggles and spiked helmets.

It's the interior of the crystal tower again, and the gateway to Abaddon is glowing. The gateway to Sinai is also open, though it is not glowing, and a Dromodon-team is pulling a wagon out and into the desert – yellow desert – beyond.

Blinking his eyes, Zoltan allows himself to be hustled along "Never thought I'd enjoy the feeling of sand under my hooves… " he grins.

Wynona squeals with delight, flapping about. "Magicmagicmagicmagic!" She flops down in the sand, then squeaks, "I … I think I'll do a cantrip!" She eyes the wall of storm surrounding this eye in the Forbidden Zone. "Just as soon as we get out of here, that is."

The Korv spreads his wings, and takes a deep breath in, letting it out with a notably more relaxed sigh. "Ahhhhh… " Followed up with a few mutters at the soldiers of, "'Ey, all right. We're goin', quitcher pokin'." He bobs his head at Zoltan. "The change o' scenery is nice, eh?" He takes a moment to look the landscape over, and adds, "Th' existence o' scenery is nice."

Surrounding the tower is what looks like a small encampment … no, a large one. There are a number of Titanians milling about some clunky-looking sand-triremes that look distinctly Titanian in design, complete with some sort of unwieldy engines strapped to the backs.

There are numerous tents pitched up – drab rusty ones belonging to the Kampfzengruppe, and bright, garish ones belonging to the desert nomads and Khattan traders.

"Maybe you coulds try some cool-breeze spells in exchange for ride back to Rephidim." Zoltan scrawks. "Kensington, ask one of the soldiers if they talks to anyone from the Temple yets."

Kensington nods, and wanders over to the nearest leaderish-looking Kampfzengruppen. His straightforward tone suggests he gets right to the point.

A bazaar-like atmosphere follows, as the newly-arrived Himarians are swarmed by desert traders of the Khattan variety. "Oh … so it is to Himar you wish to go, sirrah? Many gracious blessings to you, for it is my happiness to tell you to there I can take you, yes? For only a modest portion of that heavy, burdensome iron you carry with you… "

Kensington scratches the back of his head. He utters some words of reply, then looks over his shoulder at Zoltan. "Seems like theys never 'eard o' th' Temple, Zoltan."

"I wants to go to Rephidim," Zoltan scrawks to one of the traders before turning back to Kensington. "This fall under they jurisdiction I thinks. Temple goings to find out abouts this sooner or laters… Ask them what they thinks about representative of the Temple speaking to them."

Kensington shrugs at the officer as he exchanges some words again, and points at a Titanian over by a large dirt pile. "Hey there, lubber! They don'ts want ye dumpin' dirt in that pile no more, yer blockin' th' door! Shovel it o'er there or somethin'." He nods back at the Vartan. "Aye, all right."

Wynona comes back to Zoltan, frowning. "I think the value of iron has decreased greatly." She sticks out her tongue.

The soldier exchanges some words with the Korv.

Kensington nods, replying with something short and simple.

The soldier smiles at something the Korv says, and nods.

"Good thing most of the iron in the shoppe's stock were little trinkets. I'd hate to see what the metalsmiths are going to do now." Zoltan looks over to Herbir. "You make the trip alright?"

Herbir gets up from … doing something behind a large chunk of broken crystal-rock. He wipes his beak. "Gah. Uhugh. I … ugh … I don't want to go through there again anytime soon," he scrawks.

Satisfied, the Korv rasps, "Yeah, Zoltan, seems like they're willin' t' talk. Ye'll 'ave ta tell yer Temple they need t'bring a Chronotopian translator."

Kensington gives Herbir an odd look. "Are ye all right, ye ol' air dog? Ye look like yer gonna bring up yer hardtack." He glances at the chunk of rock, but doesn't seem curious enough to look behind it. "Or already did."

Herbir just gives Kensington a LOOK, then glances about. "So … any way of contacting friends and getting a ride out of here? Or we can just do it the old-fashioned and hard way … but only after I get myself a rest first."

Zoltan offers Herbir his canteen to wash his beak out. "We'll try the easy way first. If that doesn't work… we try the hard way. I hope everyone in the caravan knows about the sinking sand."

Herbir sloshes down some water, then laughs. "If they don't, they'll figure it out quick enough!"

Wynona squeaks, "Do we have a way to signal your crew, Captain Kensington?"

"That sounds like something better left to the easy way as well." Zoltan rubs the back of his neck.

"I dunno if that lot's even still around… we've been gone fer a long time." The Korv looks up at the Forbidden Zone's eye "wall". "With any luck, they saw the people goin' inta th' zone, an' took up port around here."

Wynona squeaks, "Just what did your note for them say, anyway? Maybe we could see if one of the soldiers found the note instead?"

Wynona giggles. "Oh! They probably couldn't read it. Unless you wrote it in … ah … " She waves her hand. "That language of yours, you know?"

Kensington caws, "Bosch, lass. An' I wrote it in Standard, so's aye, they never woulda been able t'read it, I don'ts think. An' no-one on th' outside woulda been able t'get in t'read it. It's a fine keg o' vinegar we packed ourselves into, eh?" He laughs that coarse laugh of his.

Wynona says, "Well … we're not exactly trapped." She sighs. "It's just that I can kiss my souvenirs goodbye. You know those traders are going to take us for every grain of rust we've got."

Zoltan sips from his canteen, pacing back and forth. "Is shame they no takes credit… or maybe I can offer them good trade from shoppe. I bets Vartans pass through here lots."

Kensington stretches his wing out in a gesture at some of the 'rocket-trireme' looking things. "'Ow about's th' Titanians? They be th' ones what got in 'ere first. I bet ye could talks one inta showin' off 'is sled there."

Herbir eyes the ground. "Well, SOMEONE'S been picking up the rubble." There are still lots of big chunks left, but only a few of the small bits that might be easily portable.

"Well, let's find a likely candidate and start negotiating." The younger Vartan scrawks and starts eyeing the crowd of merchants. "Someone here is hopefully interested in something more than metal."

The corsair wanders over to one of the Titanian triremes, and beings eyeing it critically.

Zoltan smirks at Herbir. "You wouldn't happen to have any of that stuff the Naga was drinking, would you? I bet a bottle of that would get us a ride back to civilization… although I couldn't guarantee the condition we'd be in once we got there."

Herbir grins, and pats his pack. "Oh, just a little." He furrows his brow. "I'd like to save some for celebrating, though."

With a boost of his wings, Kensington lifts himself up far enough into the air to land on the bow of a trireme, keeping an eye out for its owner while he looks the sand-vessel over.

The younger Vartan laughs and gives his father shoulder a chummy punch. "We're going to celebrate like you wouldn't believe once we get back to Rephidim. For now though… " He steps forward into the midst of some of the traders. "And of you need guards or protectors for your wares? There's lots of bandits and dangers out there after all. Me and my companions are trained warriors, and we have an air-mage who can keep you comfortably cool during your journey if you're interested."

A big Titanian promptly comes up to the bow, swinging a hammer through the air. "You! No land on ship without permit – permit – my okay!"

"Hey, easy there, big fella," replies the Korv, grinning. "Just lookin' yer vessel over. Looks like a nice clipper ye 'ave here. Good an' fast, eh? Bet it's loud, too!"

The Titanian puffs out his chest proudly, letting the hammer relax. "LOUDEST!" he bellows.

A Khattan merchant approaches Zoltan. "Hmm. And where might you be hoping that we are journeying, sirrah?"

Zoltan kneels down to the Khatta's eye-level. "I would like to get to Rephidim… is it still over Himar?"

Kensington tilts his head to one side. "Th' loudest, ye say? Oh, well, I dunno about that. I mean, she's a nice ship an' all, boyo, but that one over there… " He points at another likely looking trireme nearby. "That'un looks like she might nudge ye out in speed an' roar."

The Khatta merchant pauses, then says, "No, a pardon, but I believe it has drifted over the sea to the west."

The Titanian captain grumps at Kensington's challenge. "OH YEAH? WELL, IS THAT SO?"

"Can you get me to the closest seaside city, then? I'm a skilled warrior, trained under the hand of the Knights Templar." Zoltan scrawks, wincing at the Titanian.

"To Abu Dhabi?" asks the merchant. He laughs. "All trader routes lead there! But … it is a hard journey." He seems to be sizing Zoltan's pack up.

The Korv's grin widens around his beak slightly. "Well, I wouldna want t'be in yer shaggy coat iffen th' one o'er yonder proved me right. Would ye be willin' ta bet ye'd beat 'im in a race to th' sea? Th' pride o' yer engine's at stake, after all … it'd be terrible t'tarnish it."

Zoltan straightens up and back-steps a bit. "I am carrying important cargo for the Knights. I did not go to Abaddon to gather riches. If you need a warrior, I'm at your disposal… if you want money, I'm afraid you'll be better off with someone else."

The merchant looks to be deep in thought. "Allow me to confer with my associates, sirrah. You look quite competent, and more than able to handle with the dangers we may face."

The Titanian captain, meanwhile, seems to be working himself into a fury. "I … I … " He fumes, then glances at his crew. "GET OFF YER TAILS! WE SHOW HOW MUCH NOISE WE MAKE!"

Zoltan's ears go back a little. "How you doing, Kensington?"

Kensington caws, "Not bad, Zoltan! We need judges fer a race to the coast!" He laughs, and waves at the Titanian captain. "Right, Cap'n! Issue yer challenge, shaggy, so ye can show that tub who's the fastest with the loudest! First one ta a coast city wins … uh … the Blaster-Bellow Trophy Stone! Aye!"

The Titanian engine comes to life, making quite a racket. Several Dromodons and Drokars rear up in fear. A few break loose and start running, as their owners desperately try to catch them.

Several Titanians yell something that sounds vaguely like "BELLY BLASTER!"

The younger Vartan makes a choking noise. "I hope this is a good idea, Kensington." He whistles to Herbir, Wynona, and Born-In-Shame, sensing a hasty departure is coming up.

The trader speaks with some other merchants, all of whom have robes of a similar cut to himself. In fact, they look, really, like they might be related to him.

The trireme rocks back and forth, as the engine makes a terrible racket. The other trireme – its competition – has started up as well. The soldiers look about wildly, and one of them rushes up to the bow of the ship Kensington is on, shouting at the Korv … but the soldier's voice is lost in the commotion.

"Sure it be a good idea! Mix bidness wit' pleasure, says I!" He points at a chunk of crystal-tower rubble that hasn't been taken away yet, and tries to yell at Zoltan over the din of the engine. "Grab th' Trophy Stone and choose yer champion!" He gives the soldier what he hopes is an apologetic shrug, pointing at a Titanian and twirling a wing-claw by his head in the sign for 'lunatic'.

The soldier shakes his head, and rushes back to several others, barking some orders. The end result is that the soldiers put their guns back down, though they still warily watch the Titanian "duel".

"At least it's fast… " Zoltan groans and grabs the crystal chunk. "Cambio, Wynona might have some trouble holding on, she'll need your help. Born-In-Shame… I'll try and lend you a hand. Find a free spot and hang on everyone!" He shrugs at the merchant. "Another time perhaps."

Rajiim shakes his head, looking at the Titanian triremes. "May you arrive in one piece, oh brave travelers!"

Kensington loosens the bright red sash from around his waist, and gets himself a good grip on the rumbling trireme before raising it into the air. "On yer MARKS! … Get SET!… "

Rajiim turns to look at the black Khatta and the Eeee and the Savanite. "Oh! There you are! I believe these lunatics are going to race all the way to Abu Dhabi on those triremes."

The Titanians raise a great din, hammering on any available surface, including themselves and each other.

Brishen glances at Feli, her voice low. "Abu Dhabi sounds like a wonderful destination."

Jynx, feeling much better after a day of rest (and puzzlement) back on his own world, nods to the Trader. "Good afternoon." He looks to Brishen, and nods. "Race to Abu Dhabi? Any chance we might hitch a ride?"

"Or as few pieces as possible," Zoltan grits out, preparing to climb up on to one of the vehicles. "I'm going to need a little bit if that 'fuel' when this is over and done with, father."

Herbir laughs. "All right, all right!" He spreads his wings and flaps up to the deck, then looks about for something nice and sturdy to hold onto.

Wynona flutters onto the deck as well. "Oh my! At times like this … I'm GLAD I have wings! Backup plan, you know!" she shouts.

The black Khatta blinks as he hears a familiar sounding, almost avian voice. "Wait a minute… " he looks around, searching for any familiar faces, "I could have sworn… "

The corsair on the deck of one of the vessels shouts, "All aboard who's goin' aboard, it's now or never!"

A few Himarians scramble for the ship, but most of them seem inclined to wait for more … conventional means of transport.

Zoltan hugs the crystal chunk to his chest, "I goings to never complain abouts rocky airship winds again, or bumpy Dromodon rides. I just pray to the Star that we makes it alrights!"

Brishen's eyes get very big as she catches sight of Wynona, then turns and coughs quietly. ( I keep meeting people I know in weird places. Okay – take a deep breath, and here goes – )

Brishen looks over at Feli. "After you?"

Jynx quickly sprints over towards the triremes, catching sight of the large black Vartan. A smile crosses his face, "Zoltan! Hey! Wait!"

Wagons, creatures and people scatter out of the way of the triremes, as they spin about, aiming westward. Big fans start spinning on their backs, and untold contraptions start sifting through the sand, kicking it up in spurts behind the two craft.

Kensington whips the sash downward, making the end of it thrash out in front of him like a crimson whip. "GO!!!"

Brishen gathers Last-Daughter up and flutters off towards the triremes as well. "Eep!"

The black Vartan's eyes pop open. "No time to waits… er… JUMP ON!!!" He extends an arm.

Brishen flaps her wings vigorously as she aims for Zoltan's trireme. ( Hey, I recognize – Wires! Who's next? )

Still sprinting, the Khatta leaps at the offered arm, trying to clasp on to it before it jets away. Unwittingly, his claws come out as he tries to grab on.

Last-Daughter's ears flatten back as she hangs on for dear life.

Just as Zoltan catches the claw-bearing Khatta … the ship jolts, as both of the Titanian triremes rock forward and then cut through the sand, sending showers of grit behind them!

The Titanians whoop and shout … though for the most part their voices are lost in the greater din of the hammering and the workings of the motors. For a moment, it seems as if Brishen might be left behind, but a flapping banner – showing a grinning Titanian head being whopped by a mallet – catches her and the cheetah kit as it passes. The canvas sail-banner seems to serve no functional purpose except to announce the presence of the Titanians for the hard of hearing.

Zoltan HISSES as Jynx's claws sink in but hauls him in, He keeps a tight grip on the feline and clings to the surface as best he can. "Feli! What you doings here? And pop you claws back in… I gots enough scars from Titan."

Brishen squeaks, yelling wildly as she holds onto the banner – with her teeth, it seems, and the Savanite kitten with her arms and a wing. "Help!"

Jynx pulls himself up towards the hippogryph, remembering to retract his claws as he does so. "I wish I knew! Just get me up here!"

The 'help', in retrospect, sounds a lot like. "Hlf!"

The black Khatta looks up at his companion, and sets his ears back. "Can someone get them down from there?"

Herbir looks up, then gestures with his thumb up at the banner. "I'm not grabbing the spotty."

Wynona frowns severely at Herbir.

Zoltan sighs, "Just hold onto Feli then." He tucks the 'belly stone' away and makes his way towards the banner.

The corsair whoops as his chosen trireme surges beneath him, content to hear his own corvid laughter in the din and noise. He appears to be getting into the spirit of things after his sash has been tucked back. He draws one of his sabers, waving it over his head like a Titanian hammer, occasionally slapping a rail with the flat of the blade.

High above, the tiny brown bat nudges Last-Daughter until the Savanite's practically wrapped about her, then works hand-over-hand along the banner until she can grab something with a vertical orientation. There, she takes a deep breath and scoots down towards the deck. "Eeeeeeee- Oh, here I am." *thump*

Brishen wrinkles her muzzle a little, then peeks at Last-Daughter to make sure she's okay.

Zoltan does his best to help Brishen and the cub to a more stable spot and then scuttles back over to the Khatta. "Best settle in. Who knows how long a trip this going to be."

Last-Daughter breathes rapidly, eyes wide, but she's intact.

Brishen spreads a wing, signing quickly in the cover it provides. "Trust me – flying is not always like that."

Jynx clings on to the deck, his claws finding a better home on the trireme than in the Vartan. "Good advice!" He pads over to the bat and cub. "This may be a while!"

Brishen blinks a few times at Feli, then nods. "That was so wild."

Brishen winces, rubbing her muzzle. "And my teeth hurt, too."

The black Khatta pads over to Last-Daughter, and holds on to her tight. "Well," he signs, "welcome to your new home!" He smiles, but realizes that, considering the surroundings, he probably should have waited to say that. He hunkers down on the trireme floor, and settles in for the long ride.

Zoltan sits down wordlessly next to his father. He can't help but notice that the cub he refused to lend a hand in rescuing looks somewhat like his daughter, and starts to worry about what will happen when his daughter meets her grandfather. He keeps his words to himself for now and simply gazes over the edge of the trireme, watching the land go by.

Kensington's feathers are steadily blown into more and more disarray, but he doesn't seem to notice or mind. Though he's settled down a bit, his grin is still around his beak, and his eyes continue to dance. If this is any indication, the bow will prove to be his favorite spot on the ship for much of the trip.