Still somewhere in a flat and close to featureless land, Francisco has been a guest of the strange porcupine-and-armadillo-like creatures. At times, they've packed on and moved along to follow the floating plants, but fortunately at a leisurely-enough pace, and they stop for breaks on occasion. The temperature tends toward the cool, but for someone with lots of fur (and five fluffy tails), that should probably be just about right.

This morning, though, things are a bit different. For one thing, when Francisco wakes up, he's lying flat on his back, facing up at a star-lit sky … and at that band of glittering bits that must encircle the planet – a ring, no doubt. And then, there's the odd sensation that his wrists and ankles are bound and held to hard-packed earth somehow … and that he's surrounded by a ring of low-burning fires.

Surprised at this, Francisco tests to see how firm the bonds are, then looks around to try and find his 'hosts'.

There is no sign of the hosts. At least Francisco can move his head around to see a bit better. They must have packed up … and rolled away, leaving only the fox, the torches … and, as the fox bumps his nose against something, he finds some cakes within biting range, and a bowl of water. The cakes are presumably made of that stuff that comes down from the floating plants … which are nowhere in sight above.

Francisco tentatively takes a bit from one of the cakes, grimacing a bit at its taste. He tries the cords holding him down once more – again, they don't move. Laying his head back, he closes his eyes for a couple of moments, then looks at the ties again. His head flops back against the ground as he says under his breath, "Damn those 9-tails."

Time passes. And more time. It's a long, eventless night. At least bugs are fairly nonexistent here, and only a few small skittering lizard-things come up to nibble at the cakes and tickle the fox as they run across him.

Francisco stirs from a slight doze, feeling the creatures run over him. He tries to get them off him by trying to wriggle, but this is made almost impossible by the bonds. He starts to wish that he had eaten the cake – perhaps if that wasn't around, the lizards would eat the cord instead.

Francisco would eat it too if he could, he just can't reach them. It may taste better than those cakes for all he knows.

Eventually … one of the little six-legged lizards lets out an alarmed squeak, and they all scamper off, one blindly running right up onto Francisco's muzzle in the process.

The fox tries to snap at the lizard. It's fairly quick, but not quick enough and is caught by the tail.

The lizard shrieks in alarm, its claws raking against the fox's muzzle, though his fur is sufficient to defend him from any scrapes, tiny as they would likely be anyway. The other lizards, not surprisingly, do nothing to assist their comrade.

Francisco snaps at the lizard again, but in the process loses his grip on the tail, allowing the lizard to scamper away.

As the lizard escapes … Francisco finally notices another set of lights in the sky, and can hear some noises of something airborne, approaching … perhaps the cause for scaring the lizards in the first place. At first glance, it could be mistaken for perhaps a landing jetliner, but there's no accompanying sound, it's moving too slow, and the lights do not flash, but rather flicker like fire.

Francisco watches the lights for a while, deciding he'd like to see what they belong to before asking them for help.

Whatever it is … it's getting closer … and once it's almost overhead … there's a glint of light reflecting off of something falling. The impact can be heard against dirt, throwing a cloud of dust into the air that is blown into the fox's direction by the wind. Voices can be heard shouting far above, though what they say can't be understood.

Perking his ears to try and hear what is being said, Francisco waits to see who they are.

Footfalls can be heard against the ground, and the shadows of bat wings can be seen against the sky. Bats! Really big bats!

These big bat-people are more easily seen as they approach the fires. They are humanoid in shape, with bat-like heads, complete with very large ears, and an assortment of different nose types, some appearing fox-like, some more mouse-like, some … well … bat noses can be fairly ugly sometimes. And, of course, they have really big ears. From their backs sprout bat-like wings, completely separate limbs from their arms.

Francisco considers for a split second whether bats are better than armadillos, and decides. "Hai! I don't suppose I could ask for some assistance?" he calls out to them.

The bats walk closer, giving Francisco curious looks. They chitter a number of words to each other … and while the language can't be understood … did one of those words sound like "fox"?

Francisco continues to call over to them, making a point of straining against the bonds in the hopes they'll notice.

A few of the bats converge around the fox and try to pull up the stakes. They exert themselves, but don't accomplish anything. One of them walks up, wielding a wicked-looking barbed weapon which looks like a whip, except that it's segmented, and goes back to a bulbous thing that looks like a spiked horseshoe crab that his fist must be jammed into. The other bats back away as he snaps the whip-weapon in the air.

The kitsune's eyes widen as he watches the whip – and really hopes he is not the target. Even so, he tenses up, expecting to be hit.

*SNAP* *WHIPWHIP* *SNAP* The sound rings in the fox's ears … but he's not bleeding or missing body parts … and the cords tied to his extremities are no longer taut.

Francisco opens his eyes again, having closed them before the whip was used, and lifts his arms a little. Slowly, he sits up nursing his wrists a little. Smiling up at the whip-wielding bat-person, he says, "Um, thanks."

The bat-person is still holding his whip out … and doesn't look all that friendly. He bark-squeaks something, and looks to be gesturing to Francisco with a distinct "Head this way" motion.

Just then, some of the bats from the ship start shouting, and someone blows a horn. Some of the bats immediately take to the air, and the one with the whip sounds as if he's cursing as he looks to the sky.

Getting to his feet, Francisco looks at the remaining bat with a "Okay, what now?" look.

More horns sound out above, and some more lights can be seen … another floating vessel. The one the bats came from appears to be some sort of dirigible, and by all appearances another is approaching.

The bat with the whip launches to the air, without answering the fox. There are a few mooring lines that have been hastily freed, and are dragging across the ground as the dirigible starts to move again. It would seem that if Francisco is desperate to get a ride with the bats, unless he can fly, that would be the only available means – unless they plan on returning soon.

Francisco thinks on this for about a second. He's got no way of knowing who is in the approaching vessel, and the bat-creatures did free him…

After spitting in his paws, he runs after a rope, rubbing the spit into his paws as he goes and grabs the line tightly.

The coarse line provides sufficient traction for the fox's grip … as he is hoisted free from the ground and high into the air, the dirigible lifting up and away.

Francisco tightens his grip on the line, and mumbles to himself, "Don't look down… Just don't look… "

Like everyone who has ever been in this position, he has to look. "… downaahhhhh!!" Closing his eyes, he holds on for his life, which now actually seems to be at risk for maybe the first time.

As if to accentuate this, a few blazing arcs shoot through the sky, tongues of flame trailing behind. One passes by within the fox's vision, then a few more … flaming arrows! Shrill squeaks can be heard, and wingbeats, as the bats soar about.

Francisco looks back to see where the arrows are coming from – the other vessel! He doesn't know whether to climb the rope to the ship itself, or just hang on. What if one of those arrows hits the big balloon above the ship?

The flaming arrows cease … as the other airship approaches very swiftly, and the ships are about to bump into each other! (Possibly setting fire to one ship at this distance would present too much of a hazard to the other, thus resulting in détente in this regard.)

The fox climbs up the rope a little more, but decides to remain hanging onto the rope, and not board the vessel… for now.

The rope sways violently as the jolt of the bumping envelopes runs down its length. Fortunately … it's not enough to shake the fox's relatively fresh grip.

Francisco tightens his grip regardless, pausing there for the moment.

A few bats zip by, screeching loudly. Moments later, another creature can be seen – a man-sized eagle! Other fliers can be seen … one resembling a gryphon with horse hooves, wielding a crossbow in its talon-like hands, and another creature that looks like an oversized crow (and sounds like one, too).

One of the crows flies by … then alights on the rope, squawking something at Francisco. It's yet another language that he doesn't know. The crow clings higher up the rope, far out of reach, by its foot-claws. Visible are claw-like hands sprouting from its wings.

Francisco blinks, looking up at the crow-thing. "Hi?" he suggests to it.

The crow squawks something back … and rubs a foot-claw on the rope. There's something very sharp attached to its foot-claw … looks like some sort of blade … and bits of the rope are quickly being hewn away!

Francisco shouts up at it, "Hey!!" and resumes his climb up the rope towards the bird(?)

The crow lets out several loud caws, and some more fliers are converging, exchanging more screeches of their own. Talons claw into the fox's back!

Francisco cries out as they pierce his fur and skin, but keeps his grip on the rope, climbing as best he can.

The crow finishes severing the rope, and there's nothing holding the fox to the ship … He's within the grasp of a very large … well … something big, with wings, and talons. All about him, fliers are fighting, projectiles zipping by.

However, Francisco continues to hold onto what's left of the rope, biting down on it with his teeth in attempt to dull the pain in his back. Fortunately, the crow-thing is more-like holding him, and not clawing at him now.

The ride is rather jolty … ending with the fox being unceremoniously dumped onto a wooden deck of what at first seems almost like a seafaring vessel … except that it's evidently a gondola underneath an envelope of several spherical balloons. Several wolves in armor and robes surround him, bearing polearms, who bark at him in a tongue that sounds like what the crow used.

Francisco doesn't appear to hear or notice them as he is more engaged with tending to the wounds on his back.

A mouse about the size of the porcupines and armadillos rushes up, wearing white robes, shooing the wolves to one side with an authority that belies his stature. He rushes up to the fox, squeaking to him what sounds like a question, then gives a scrutinizing look at the fox's face.

He seems PARTICULARLY curious at the five tails sprouting from the fox's posterior…

Francisco finished tending to his back for the moment, and brings his paw round to his front, almost wailing when he sees blood on it.

The mouse hmphs, and squeaks some orders to the wolves. Some of them rush off. He pokes at the fox's side with a staff to get his attention, then squeaks another query.

"What is it with this place? Are you people trying to destroy my shirt?" the fox asks. He pushes the stick away, "And enough of the poking thing already."

The mouse looks angry as the stick is pushed away, and gives the fox a final poke and some sort of stern remark, but departs nonetheless. The wolves discourage any repercussions against the otherwise vulnerable rodent, but the fox is subjected to no further abuse for now.

The ship rocks, accompanied by a roll of thunder. Dark clouds have been creeping across the sky, but heretofore there were too many distractions to really notice.

Francisco remains distracted, grumbling to himself about all the things that have happened to him up to this point.

A raccoon heads up, wearing white robes like the mouse, though larger in size (in girth as well as height), and with some slight difference in the markings on his outfit. He looks at the fox, inspects the wounds, then gestures for the fox to follow him, if the hand-motion is understood. The ship rocks again, causing the raccoon to stumble and look even more eager to move on.

Sighing, and wondering 'what now?', the kitsune gets up and follows the raccoon.

A couple of wolf guards fall behind … and the fox is led belowdecks. The raccoon and some assistants clean the fox's wounds and apply some bandages … then seem to be ushering him to a small, fairly featureless room.

The fox is put into the chamber alone … and the door is closed. The ship stops rocking. Some food and water is put into the cell – a fairly bland gruel, but at least the water is clean, and the cell is clean as well.

Francisco sits down against a wall, wincing slightly as his back touches it, and sniffs at the food before taking a taste. He winces again, "Ugh… what is it with the food in this place?" Yet, since he hasn't eaten in a couple of days, he eats it anyway before settling down to rest, and amuses himself for the moment by thinking of as many derogatory names for those 9-tails who put him here as he can.