Blackness gives way to the not-quite light of the dawn. The fox doesn't quite remember how he came to be lying flat on the snowy ground, but his mind supplies visions of a well of star, as if he were falling down the length of a universe, and a giant glyph of an eye… What does it mean? A quick look around: flat tundra. Nothing like where he should be. The ground is churned up as if many riders had been through recently, but the hoofprints are alien. Not horses.

Jarik tries to sit up. "Gah," he winces and holds his head, "What happened? This isn't Genesis. The gate's never done THAT."

Jarik shakes his head and remains on the ground for a bit, rather dizzy. He reaches under his shirt collar and pulls out his gate amulet. It appears almost charred. The blue stone has a huge crack in it. "Great, " he mutters, "Looks like wherever I am, I'm stuck."

Jarik looks around, "Well Jarik, here you go again. In another world, lost and alone. One day you'll learn." He struggles to his feet and dusts himself off.

The wind sighs quietly across the tundra, blowing white crystals from the frosted earth across the bits of weapons and shells that are scattered over the ground. Whomever was here recently… They fought. There is an acrid smell from not far away.

Jarik kneels and picks up a bit of weaponry and examines it…

Crude by any knight's reckoning, the knife is no more than a bit of shell or horn with a flattened, sharp edge and leather wrapped around the hilt to protect the hand. It is cracked halfway through.

Jarik hmms at the crude dagger. "Looks like I'm in a rather primitive world." he mutters.

Out of the corner of the knight's eye, there is a hint of movement in the darkness.

Jarik stands. His hand drops to his swordhilt. "Announce yourself," he calls out.

The wind drones a steady note across the flat land in response.

Jarik's fingers quickly undo the buckle holding his sword in the scabbard. His amber eyes scan the surroundings. "Whoever you are, I come in peace." Jarik shouts.

Amidst the pieces of broken shell and the torn bits of frozen ground, there is a small bump in the thin layer of snow – it vibrates a little, as if shivering.

Jarik's ear twitches toward the sound. His hand falls away from his sword. He goes over to the small bump and lightly dusts the snow off…

The snow is intermixed with fur which shivers at the touch and shifts around. Something fuzzy is half-buried in the frozen dirt, and there's a muffled whimpering and whining noise from within.

Jarik tries to dig the poor creature out of the frozen ground.

The whining gets louder as Jarik finds himself unearthing a creature about the size of a basketball, covered with pepper-grey fur, some of it caked and matted with dried blood. It yelps and yowls piteously, sounding for all the world like a puppy.

Jarik looks at the odd creature. "There there, " he says, "You'll be alright. I won't hurt you." He gently pets the creature.

And, for that matter, the appearance is remotely similar. Imagine taking a little wolf cub, and lengthening its rear legs so such a degree that it could stand on them bipedally – albiet hunched over – and then make its tail thick and broad and muscular for counterweight. And then, to make the creature even stranger, give it a pair of hoof-like feet, each bearing a single talon – and give it a pair of clumsy hands instead of its forepaws, with a limited range of motion and manipulation.

Jarik tries to lift it out of the hole in the ground.

The sky lightens over the horizon. That must be the east – if there is such a direction on this world. It seems paler, whiter than Jarik remembers the pre-dawn sky being.

At Jarik's touch, the cub radiates fear – but after it kicks about vainly, it settles down a bit, feeling the knight's warmth. Its fear gives way surprisingly quickly as it snuggles closer, its whimpering growing quiet, only whining through its nose.

Jarik unhooks his cloak. "Well little friend, I wish you could tell me where I am." he says. He wraps the poor creature in his cloak for warmth.

Jarik looks around, "And for that matter, what happened here."

The wind rises a moment, blowing Jarik's tail and ears back. It steals heat, this wind, even as the day begins to bring warmth.

As the creature snuggles in, at the sound of Jarik's voice again, it looks up. It begins making a series of popping noises, as if it were clicking its tongue. Its tail whips back and forth, pummeling Jarik's torso within the cloak – though not strong enough to be anything other than a surprise.

Jarik looks down, "Can you speak? Or, am I just loosing my mind? I knew I should have taken the job as King's general instead of heading off on another of my little crusades." He shakes his head, "No matter." Jarik takes a quick couple of sniffs in the air, hoping to smell smoke or somesuch, perhaps indicating a nearby village.

The little cub's clicking continues off and on – but it does not seem to have a pattern that might suggest speech. Just popping and clicking.

Jarik looks over the little creature for wounds. "Hmmm, I need to call you something. 'Creature' is so… so… impersonal." He scritches its ear, "I'll just call you Scruff."

The tundra's smells are by and large, faint and mostly those of plants, but there is a musty scent from perhaps that way. Not unlike a stable. Oddly however, there is not the slightest sign of any building or outcropping all around.

"Scruff" only clicks and pops in response, tail thrashing.

After a bit, the cub sighs, whines, and quiets down, burying its muzzle into the folds of the cloak.

If there's any village around, then it must be miles away beyond the horizon…

Jarik hmmmms. He looks back down at the 'hoof' marks. "Well, where there are riders, there are villages." He heads off, following the tracks.

The tracks churn the field up. On this side of the battlefield however, they seem to meander off beyond a swelling of the ground. The musty smell grows stronger.

Tiny yellow-green plants poke through the light covering of frost on the ground, covered with crystal-like dew.

Jarik heads over to the swelling. He peers at it curiously. "How odd, a mound like this in such a wasteland." he muses.

The mound, it appears, is one of many rises and falls in the not-quite-completely flat tundra.

Jarik sniffs the air again and tries to follow the musky scent.

The trail of many hoofprints lead over the hill…

Jarik shrugs, "The prints it is then." He follows the prints.

Jarik glances at his amulet again, "… last me centuries. Ha, that old twit Dosterovich didn't know what he was talking about."

In the light of the rising sun, down past the other side of this gentle slope can be seen several glinting points – Circles of various sizes dug in the earth, with small domes of semi-metallic material rising from each one, in varied colors.

The various sizes, though, are a few feet in diameter at most, and do not rise much at all above the level of the ground.

Jarik heads over to the bizzare domes. Jarik .oO {How odd}

From within the cloak, the cub's tail stops thwapping. It lets out a brief whine.

Jarik looks down at Scruff, "Whats wrong little one?"

Clustered together in no particular pattern, the shallow "domes" appear upon closer inspection to be of the same substance as the fragments of shell found at the sign of the battle. The ground in the vicinity is torn up by hoofprints to the point where tracking is pointless.

Jarik patpats Scruff. He kneels down and examines one of the 'shells'.

The musky odor most certainly originates from here. Some of the shallow domes show cracks. It appears that the strange structures are made of segmented shell of a variety of colors, appearing metallic onely because of the light frosting one their surfaces.

Jarik makes sure he's holding Scruff well in his left arm and tries to turn over one of the shells with his right.

From within the "shell" that Jarik examines, can be heard breathing. There is a very faint rise and fall in time with the breaths. At Jarik's touch, there is suddenly movement as the structure shifts about, and a low growl.

Jarik scoots back…

Jarik says, "Oh dear… "

The shell pulls out, as the snarl grows louder. The light layer of snow is shaken free, as the cub yelps and squirms in Jarik's hold.

Jarik gets to his feet and moves away from the shell quicky. "Okay, on this world, let sleeping shells lie… " he says.

Some of the other strange mounds emit grunting noises, and some begin to stir. The one Jarik touched rises out, looking like a bipedal beast with a structure not at all unlike the cub, except that its body is covered in pieces of segmented shell with a bluish sheen.

Jarik says, "Um… I come in peace?"

A vaguely lupine face, marked with nasty wounds, turns toward Jarik. Its eyes are hidden by a piece of shell which grows over the top of its head, reflecting the sunlight. Others rise, and have a similar appearance, though it appears that those closer to the middle of the cluster are smaller in stature than those on the outside.

Jarik glances at the cub in his arms, "I should listen to you more should't I?"

The cub is now kicking and yelping and whining piteously.

Jarik pets the cub gently, "There there, maybe if we're quiet they won't hurt us."

The blue-shelled one growls at Jarik, then shakes its head again, knocking free bits of frozen dirt and snow. It smacks its lips exaggeratedly, and makes a loud yawn that reverberates with a guttural undertone.

Jarik smiles and tries to look friendly. Jarik . o O {Remember, be diplomatic.}

A reddish-shelled one with light striations climbs out of its hole, and gingerly steps forward, making clicking and popping noises and guttural sounds that suggest speech in some strange tongue. It turns toward the others, mumbling gibberish, accented with more clicks and pops, earning similar responses from the others.

Jarik ahems, "Could any of you direct me to the nearest town?"

As Jarik smiles, the bluish one crouches down more, growling and snarling, smiling back, displaying its sharp, yellowed fangs.

Jarik acks and remembers… DON'T show teeth. He quickly covers his.

The blue-shelled one seems to lose some steam, grunting. He glances back to another creature, the largest so far, whose shell is a deep obsidian black. It lumbers forward, a couple of small creatures – which look just like the cub in Jarik's arms, only a bit bigger – cowering behind him.

Jarik looks at the large creature. He tries not to seem threatening or fearful.

Jarik raises his right hand in front of him. He opens it, palm up, in greeting. "I mean no harm here." he says.

The black-shelled one snarls, baring his teeth at the two furred creatures who are hanging too close to his feet, and boots one with his hoof, sending it rolling. Both of the furred things yelp and run off, toward another creature, this one with an amber shell. The amber one stoops down, gathering them to it. There seems to be a small wolf head poking from underneath the amber one's belly, as if in a pouch.

Jarik uncovers the cub in his arms a bit. "I found this one back there… " he points over the hill. "I thought he could use some help."

The black-shelled one snorts, marching forward, tearing up the tundra as it steps – far more destructive to the ground than any of the others, as if deliberately marking its way. It lets off a rapid-fire barrage of unintelligible phrases, clicking and popping all the while. Others cower ever so slightly as it passes them on its way to approach Jarik. About the creature's neck can be seen a necklace bearing circular discs in a variety of colors, interspersed with sharp yellowed teeth.

Jarik's ears twitch nervously, "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll go the other direction." He starts walking backwards.

There are several cracks in the shell of this creature, and one ear is badly torn. It growls and barks as it speaks, making gestures with its hands.

As Jarik steps back, some of the beasts step forward, though none seem to dare advance further forward than the black-shelled one.

Jarik . o O {I hope they don't mean to attack me. I know I'm the intruder here. How can I make them understand that I mean no harm? Better yet, how do I keep them from harming me!}

At last, the creature appears to finish its speech, and makes a series of hollow barking bellows – which, after the first couple, are joined by similar bellows from the others, as they begin to join in. There are clacking and rattling noises from some who are holding some sort of implements in their hands made from, for all one can tell, bones and shells.

There's a rather unpleasant smell from within Jarik's cloak. In addition to what his nose tells him, as well as an unpleasant sudden warmth, there is a feeling of sheer terror from the cub.

Jarik gets an idea… He holds out his right hand in front of him again. He concentrates for a moment. A spark of blue magic travels along his hand.

Jarik looks down and ughs, children… Why me?

Several of the creatures lose their enthusiasm, and the bellowing chant loses its furor, replaced by some whining at the sight of the sparking display. Some, however, don't seem nearly so cowed, and flatten their ears back, snarling.

Jarik . o O {Well, thats as effective as healing magic will be here… Now what?}

Jarik . o O {I don't want to actually hurt any of them… I could energize my sword and hope it frightens them… }

The bark-chanting has given way to snarling and flattening of ears and raising of crude weapons made from bone and shell and leather. It would appear that the natives are hostile.

Jarik's right hand goes down to his sword. Thankfully, he already unhooked the buckle. He draws it out in a swift, graceful motion.

The black-shelled one lurches forward, charging toward Jarik and the hill.

The cub lets out a shriek, tears rolling down to freeze against its face.

Jarik waits until it is only a few feet from him and quickly moves to the left, avoiding it's charge.

The black-shelled one stumbles past – He's fast, but apparently not quite so nimble on the turns as the fox. However, the rest are following suit. Nimble or no, there's a stampede starting!

Jarik holds the cub close to him. Jarik sees the incomming herd and decides discresion is the better part of valor here and takes off running from them!

There are some barks and howls in the distance, and several shouts.

The black-shelled one stumbles around, having his hooves full enough with trying to start his charge again and keep from being trampled by his own pack. Jarik has the lead, but the others are gaining. The cub whines and yowls, and the air is filled with the sounds of barks and shouts.

Jarik . o O {Jarik, ol fox, you really get yourself in bad situations don't you?}

Jarik keeps running and begins to charge his sword in case he has to fight.

As Jarik goes over the hill, he's treated to the sight of ANOTHER mass of creatures just like the one he's fleeing … only facing back toward him.

There are several yelps and snarls, and shouted, unintelligible words from behind Jarik.

Jarik aghs! HE quickly mages a 90 degree turn and runs perpindicular to both groups.

The movement of the forms dissolves into chaos. There are sounds of crashing and clashing, snarls and yelps. By the sounds of hoofbeats behind Jarik, though, some are still pursuing.

Jarik glances behind himself as he runs, trying to see how many are pursuing.

There are far fewer in pursuit now. By their shell colors, green, blue and purple – only three – and the rest seem to be engaged in a fight behind him – and the black-shell's group appears to be retreating.

Jarik stops and spins. He feels confident he can take three. He stands his ground, facing them. Sword ignited and glowing brightly.

The green, blue and purple ones shout at Jarik with their clicking and popping noises.

Jarik's eyes narrow, "If you want a fight… come and get it."

The cub pokes his head out of Jarik's cloak, and emits a long series of pops.

Jarik looks down at the cub?

The three abruptly come to a stop, the blue one skidding and tripping to fall unceremoniously on its tail.

Jarik blinkblinks, clearly he's missing something here.

The green one barks a series of phrases at Jarik, thrusting its hand in his direction in a series of pointing gestures.

The cub squirms and kicks, whining, about to pull free from Jarik's grasp.

Jarik lowers his sword a bit and tilts his head? He releases the cub onto the ground.

The cub rolls to the ground and hops back up on its hindleg-hooves, and runs straight for the green-shelled creature. The creature looks down, dropping the dagger held in its off-hand, and scoops up the pup. The blue one slowly gets up from its fall, snorting, while the purple one closes in to sniff at the cub.

Jarik lets his sword discharge and watches the curious event.

Behind them, several others lope forward, some limping, some licking their wounds.

Jarik's ears twitch nervously.

Jarik. o O {Now what?}

Purple-shell takes a few steps toward Jarik, clicking and popping something in far less agitated tones, but still keeping its distance. Its eyes are usually obscured by a piece of shell jutting out over its crown, but occasionally as its head bobs, a pair of eyes can be seen, dancing between regarding Jarik and his blade.

Jarik puts his sword away, "Um… I come in peace?" He tries this again…

The cub licks the face of the green-shelled one, who holds it closely.

There are several barks from the rear of the group. Black-shell's group appears to be cresting the hill again. The creatures begin to pick up their pace.

Purple-shell clicks and pops something urgent, then hops forward, reaching out as if to touch Jarik's cloak.

Jarik just watches for a moment, making no guestures that could be considered threatening…

In a moment, Jarik is suddenly yanked off his feet! It's hard to make head or tails for the next few moments of what is going on, as he seems to be bouncing along, upside down, in the midst of a stampede, surrounded by yelps and clicks and barks and howls!

Jarik yipes! "What in the world!!!!" He looks around frantically…

Jarik. o O {I must have _really_ annoyed some deity somewhere.}

The chaos continues for several moments. It would seem that Jarik is a passenger of the purple-shelled one, moving along the tundra at high speed, surrounded by a retreating clan of similar creatures.

Jarik blinkblinks, "Here's an interesting way to travel."

Jarik tries to see where he's going.

At last, though, the yelping stops, and the pace slows. Jarik can hear a phrase being repeated and passed through the crowd, as it begins to come to a halt.

Once more, the fox knight is set to the ground, back on his feet, and is patted several times by the purple-shelled one, accompanied by popping phrases in a reassuring tone.

Jarik tilts his head at the creature, "I'm sorry," he says "I don't understand… "

There are several holes dug in the ground. It would appear Jarik is in another "camp" like the one he encountered earlier. There are a number of cubs like the one Jarik was carrying, accompanied by what must be their mothers, considering how the cubs cling to them so. Wounds are licked, and unintelligible words exchanged, and Jarik is sniffed at and his headfur ruffled several times over.

Jarik ackpthths, and keeps readjusting his headfur. He looks around, trying to figure out just what the creatures are trying to say to him. He watches hand guestures, eye movements, etc.

Most pass along, not remaining near Jarik. A few stand and look at him curiously, but they part way for a white-furred, white-shelled creature who limps up toward the fox knight, several necklaces made of multi-colored bits of shell dancing about and clicking against each other. His shell is scarred and scuffed in many places, and his hand shakes a bit as he raises it, palm toward Jarik. He says something, minus any clicks or pops, in a tongue unlike the others – though still just as unintelligible.

Jarik raises his hand and tries to mimick the guesture…

Jarik shakes his head, "I'm sorry… I don't understand."

The purple-shelled one and the green-shelled one (still carrying "Scruff") whisper-click to the elder, who nods at them, and then nods at Jarik. The elder repeats the phrase again, cocking his head to one side. There is more whispering, and the elder nods again, rubbing his fuzzy chin with one trembling hand.

Jarik points to himself. "Jarik." He says. He then points to the elder.

The elder clicks and pops something to the others, and points up at the sky. There are several "ohhhs" and gasps in the crowd.

Frenzied pops, whispers and clucks echo through the crowd of those who are still milling about, while many of the others seem more intent upon tending to their wounds, and someone has started a small fire.

Jarik glances at the wounded. He hopes none were wounded badly… his healing magic may not work right here…

The white-shelled one steps forward. He makes a sweeping gesture to the crowd, and says slowly and deliberately, as if the word were important, "Vykarin." He thumps his own nose, uttering, "Rashah." He pokes Jarik on the nose and makes a questioning click.

Jarik nods, hoping he understands. "Jarik" he answers.

"Jarik" echoes through the crowd several times, and also by the elder as he nods his head. "Jarik."

The green-shelled one softly utters "Jarik," to the little cub in its arms, pointing to the fox, but the cub only clicks and pops in return.

The elder hmphs, looking at the sky, mumbling something and prompting more nods. At last, he says something with an authoritative tone, and the creatures begin to part way, making a path toward the small circle around the fire.

Jarik watches curiously.

The creatures stand about, looking at Jarik curiously. Some seem to lose interest and wander off. At the fire, another creature is cooking something, using a bowl fashioned from blackened shell.

Jarik feels rather conspicuous… He heads toward the fire to see what is being cooked.

Jarik . o O {Or who, who know?}

It would seem that soup is being made, smelling of meat. There are a few chunks of meat as well, on small bones – apparently roast rodent of some sort … big rodent, about groundhog-sized.

The "cook" rumbles something in greeting, nodding his (or her – who can tell?) head, and pats a bit of packed earth near the fire.

Jarik nods slightly and takes a seat near the fire. He glances to the sky, trying to see what the elder was pointing at a bit ago.

Nearby, a circle of the creatures works at pieces of shell of many colors – most of the work tending to match the color of the shell of the one working on it. Some are fashioning dagger blades. Others appear to be taking the pieces left over and making jewelry.

There's almost nothing in the sky, which now shows the clear pearlescent light of the dawn. A few clouds like wisps of spiderwebs trail over the pale blue sky. Some tiny green dots sparkle in the clouds like emeralds set into veils.

The "cook" offers Jarik a hunk of well-cooked meat and bones, murmuring something and nodding, before prodding at the soup again. There are several other fires that have been started, with similar scenes of meals being prepared, and creatures gathering around them in expectation of food and to get what warmth the flames offer.

Jarik sighs exasperated, "I WISH I could understand what you're saying."

Jarik takes the meat and smiles without showing teeth in return, "Thank you."

With a clatter, something is dropped around Jarik's neck from behind!

Jarik sniffs at the meat.

The meat smells pretty good, actually.

Jarik almost jumps! He looks down atrying to see what has been put on him.

Jariks' headfur is ruffled some more, and there are some more pops and clicks near his ear. It seems a necklace strung with a rainbow of colored pieces of carved shell has been draped around his neck.

Jarik whews and turns to look at the person wo put the necklace on him.

The green-shelled one nods and bobs his head, patting Jarik again, before shuffling off to tend to some cubs – "Scruff" included – joining another circle around another fire.

Jarik tentatively takes a bite of the meat while watching his newfound friends.

Hmm. Tastes like … chicken.

Jarik looks around for the elder…

While Jarik has his meal, occasionally others come up to click and pop unintelligible phrases to him, sometimes patting him and ruffling his headfur – a gesture he sees repeated any time they encounter some of the cubs. A few sniff at him and wrinkle their noses, and after a while Jarik is brought another necklace – this one made up of a number of dried plants tied together, very pungent in smell – but a rather pleasant aroma, really, which does much to cover the smell left on Jarik's shirt by the cub.

Jarik suddenly feels like a pet for some odd reason.

The elder is not far away, and returns Jarik's glance, before turning and engages in more conversation with those around him. These creatures use hand gestures a lot, and many of them involve pointing at the sky or pointing in Jarik's direction.

Jarik looks at his shirt and siiiighs. "I hope I can find a place to bathe soon," he says, "And wash my shirt."

To be fair, though, Jarik's shirt may stink, but those around him smell like they haven't taken baths in recent history.

The day is for the most part uneventful. Some of the creatures sing some songs and play on percussion instruments fashioned from fragments of shell. Some wander off with weapons, as if to hunt … and, to prove the point, come back with some large fuzzy groundhog-like rodents as catch. Others work diligently at shaping pieces of colored shell into jewelry and utensils.

At a nearby campfire, some of those wounded from the clash with the other tribe are tended to by their comrades, some of them partially curled up into their sleeping holes, missing large sections of shell, or worse.

Jarik walks about the camp, trying to learn about his odd friends.

Jarik heads over to the injured group and kneels quietly beside them. He looks at the tending creatures. He points to himself, then to the wounded.

Several cubs seem to take a liking to Jarik, following him everywhere he goes. When he approaches the wounded, though, they back away, leaving him be. He is, for the most part, ignored as he approaches.

Jarik tries to move closer to one of the wounded. "I'd like to try to help… " he says.

A badly wounded one, his shell a deep maroon, opens one eye to regard Jarik a moment, but then whines and closes it again. The piece of shell that would normally obscure his eyes is completely broken off, and there are several slashes on the face, the lip torn to reveal teeth even when the mouth is closed.

Jarik moves over to the maroon creature. His hand reaches out and touches the wounded face…

The creature still lays there, its one good ear flicking, as it only whines in response.

Jarik closes his eyes. He adjusts his breathing to a deep and steady pattern. A soft blow glow envelopes his hand. Gentle tendrils of blue energy seem to dance accross it's face. Jarik's brow furrows. The glow brightens, the tendrils dance across the creatures wounded lip. The flesh seems to begin to 'knit' inself back together. It flows almost like a fluid, its lower jaw and lip restructure itself back to normal.

There are several yelps from around Jarik. Even the "patient" seems alarmed.

The yelps give way to shouts and alarmed utterances, and even some snarls and growls. The recipient of Jarik's healing clumsily shuffles out of its sleeping hole, lurching away, eyes wide in fear.

Some of the larger creatures begin to close in, fangs bared!

Jarik eyes open. He tries to speak soothingly, "I'm only helping heal you my friend. Please… don't be afraid."

There are a couple more yelps, as the white-shelled elder bops two of the larger ones on the noses with a rattle. He barks something at the others, and moves closer to Jarik, holding the rest at bay.

Jarik looks up at the approaching creature and points to thew wounded one's face and the healed lip.

Jarik looks up at the elder, "I'm just trying to help… "

The elder looks at Jarik's work and utters something to the fox – before cutting himself off to bop another snarling creature on the nose with the rattle again. He turns his full attention to the others, barking more orders, until the rest mostly disperse. The other wounded and their nurses about the fire remain, though watching Jarik warily.

Jarik tries to get closer to the badly wounded creature again.

The elder puts a restraining hand on Jarik's shoulder, mumbling something as he does so, then sighing and shaking his head.

Jarik nods slowly to the elder and quits.

The wounded one shuffles away, finding another hole to crawl into.

Jarik tries to stand back up. His legs buckle beneath him and he collapses to the ground.

The elder sits down beside Jarik, watching over him, warding off any others who come too close. He guides Jarik over to one of the vacated sleeping holes.

A wave of exhaustion ripples over Jarik's body. He begins to feel dizzy and can barely walk straight.

Jarik sighs and looks somewhat upset. He's never been exhausted this quickly before.

The elder remains close to Jarik, murmuring to him regularly, his body blocking the wind.

Sleep overtakes the exhausted fox knight, the last sounds in his ears being the murmuring of the elder and the steady tone of the wind blowing across the tundra, before he slips into unconsciousness.

How much time passes is unclear, but when next the fox opens his eyes, it is dark again, save for points of light around him indicating the fires still burning.

There are some barks and shouts about the camp, and several hands pointing toward the sky. The elder, still by Jarik's side, looks up as well.

Jarik pushes himself upright, his body aching. He looks toward the sky.

There in the sky is an airship… Limned by reflective ringlight, the ghostly thing is a slender spindle from which depend luminous sails like a dragon hanging in the sky.

Jarik blinkblinks, almost in awe. "Good lord… ", he mutters.

The sails are green with a bar purple slashed across diagonally, away from the body in each. Two hang to each side, and a fifth mainsail propels this swift ship toward the encampment. Lights flash across the side of the ship hanging beneath the gasbag, and then some distant voice calls a strange language.

Jarik stands up and waves to the ship. "Hello!"

The elder notices Jarik awakening, and points up toward the strange thing, uttering some phrases which are just as useless as before. At the sound of the voice from above, he straightens up, bellowing out a response in the same tongue.

After the elder's bellowing, there is a ripple through the crowd of whispers. The word "Rephidim" is repeated again and again.

The voice calls back. "Rephidim" occurs in the response, along with the word 'Zhil'. The airship comes closer, hovering nearly over the camp.

Jarik looks around at the commotion.

The elder points at the ship again, making several gestures, then taps on the shoulder of one of the creatures near him, uttering more phrases. The other one dashes off, and quickly returns, carrying a few items which are handed to the elder – and then presented to Jarik.

Jarik looks at the items curiously. "Um… thanks." he says.

The voice yells down some orders – nothing that Jarik understands, but which sound slightly impatient. Following this, the airship begins to spool some mooring lines to the gronud.

A leather pouch is put in Jarik's hand, containing something hard, flat and round, and some smaller items that rattle about. Also given to him is a dagger that looks like it is cut from shell – and likely easily broken, especially given all the broken weapons seen on the battlefield – with an odd handle.

Unlike a normal dagger with a grip that runs in line with the blade, this handle runs perpendicular, joined to the blade at both ends, so that one would hold it in a clenched fist, the blade over the knuckles. The shell material is dark, semi-translucent.

Jarik smiles to the elder and pats him on the shoulder. "Thank you, friend." he says, hoping his tone would convey the meaning.

Several of the creatures rush toward the mooring lines, and there is a frenzy of activity. The creatures are evidently excited.

Jarik removes his cracked amulet. "I know it's not much but… " he places it around the elder's neck, "It's all I can offer to thank you for your hospitality."

The elder manages a grin back to Jarik (not showing any teeth) though the expression seems forced, as if this is not a natural one. He sniffs at the amulet, and nods his head, murmuring something back to Jarik.

The crewmen on the airship begin to lower rope ladders.

Jarik looks upward to the ship and ladders.

A lieutenant – if Jarik is any guess of military rank, and these Zelaks and wolves certainly look like soldiers – and two ensigns climb down and nod to the Vykarins. The ensigns mutter a bit between themselves.

Jarik stands quietly and observes.

The lieutenant asks some pointed questions of the Vykarin elder.

The white-shelled one ushers Jarik forward, nodding and gesturing frequently toward the fox knight, and pointing toward the green-shelled one and its cub a few times during the exchange.

Jarik looks back and forth between this new person and the elder.

Jarik glances at his sword to make sure the buckle is on so he won't lose it if he has to climb.

The lieutenant looks at the cubs and then Jarik. He twizzles an ear, then nods and begins speaking – some kind of speech, perhaps. At the end of the speech, he salutes to the Vykarins and then gestures for Jarik to precede him up the ladder.

Jarik nods slightly. Before he follows, he reaches over and fuzzles Scruff goodbye and climbs up the ladder.

The elder nods and bows, backing away. The other Vykarins do likewise.

The Zelak guards, two of them, stand by the ladders motionless. The ensigns look after their Lieutenant, who snaps orders to them.

The rest of the airship crew climbs aboard as well, including the Zelak guards, and then the rope ladders are coiled up. The lieutenant calls to the Vykarins to release the mooring lines.

Jarik looks about, hoping this isn't a prison ship or something.

The creatures down below comply, releasing the lines. As the lines fly free, a few voices begin to howl – and then the whole multitude.

To the music of the Vykarin then, the Rephidim patrol ship turns and begins to sail up in the sky. Toward the faraway green dots – toward the sky island.

The ship is tightly packed, arbalests racked against the sides and cots packed into the hull. An ensign comes forward and offers Jarik a pile of blankets and a pillow. Smells musty… But at least they're warm.

Jarik nods to the Ensign. "Thank you."

…

Morning comes as Jarik shares the gruel of the other soldiers in close quarters. The patrol ship comes closer to a vast floating mountain… One that is covered with forests, and through the trees of which appear the buildings and skyscrapers of a city. Rephidim! The soldiers cheer up as they come in sight of the island.

Jarik blinks, this time in awe, "Now, that has to be one of the 7 wonders of the universe."

The airship docks in a protected and enclosed port area, and the lieutenant gestures for the Exile – Jarik – to go down the ladder. The soldiers escort him through the maze of the city streets.

Jarik's ears twitch this way and that. He tries to understand people, but to no avail.

At last they bring him to a large gray edifice that seems to rise out of the rock of the mountainside. The lieutenant snaps some orders to a Zelak guard, who stands aside. Into the Temple then, and a warren of twisty corridors, increasingly strange and rectilinear in appearance, filled with curvy ducts…

At the first checkpoint, an officer barks an order to the Lieutenant, who looks chastened. The Lieutenant snaps something to Jarik then and gestures to the sword – hand it over, he seems to be saying.

Jarik hmms and unhooks the sword from his belt. He reluctantly hands it to the Lieutenant along with the push dagger and a look of 'I better get these back'.

The Lieutenant and his soldiers seemed braced for a fight. At the offering, the Lieutenant wolf's ears go back a little, and then he dips his head in a nod. He hands these over to the checkpoint officer, who places them into a little box in a row of many other boxes and hands the Lieutenant a small receipt tag.

Jarik nods and smiles to the wolf.

Discomfitted, the Lieutenant nods curtly back, then motions for the party to continue on.

And now they stand before a hatch that must lead into one of the offices. The lieutenant removes the panel from an intercom and speaks into the wired screen.

Jarik looks about. He fidgets nervously, is this a jail, a hotel, a military fort?

There is an uncomfortable pause, and then a voice answers, sounding somewhat weary and maybe a touch annoyed. After a moment, the door begins to roll open.

Through the door and inside the chamber, a black-and-red-robed figure finishes off a flourishing scribble on a piece of parchment before handing it to a slender cheetah attendant standing to one side. The cheetah takes it, nodding, then looks up to regard Jarik with wary, green eyes. The robed one waves a hand and mutters something, at which point the cheetah heads out of the room, past Jarik, into the corridor, form in hand.

Jarik looks around, trying to appear nonthreatening. He keeps his hands in front of himself fingers interlaced.

The lieutenant wolf guard gives the robed figure a brief report.

The robed one at the desk turns around and stands, eyeing Jarik with utmost scrutiny. His facial features suggest an equine or deer with pitch black hide, with strands of a red mane about a spiraling dark blue – almost black – horn. The robed one's dark brown eyes do not leave Jarik as he steps forward, hooves clacking against the hard floor. He breaks his gaze only to look at the report, and nod to the wolf.

The wolf nods, and asks a question.

The unicorn nods, saying something in a dry voice in response, before looking up to Jarik and adding something else.

The wolf nods. He calls to his two ensigns, both wolves, and both join him inside the office before they begin cycling the door closed.

The robed unicorn points to Jarik, looking him in the eye, then gestures toward the chair beside the desk.

Jarik looks at the chair. He moves toward it slowly, keeping his arms down. He makes no sudden movements.

The dentist's chair looks… Clawed up. Someone has obviously suffered a lot on it lately.

The unicorn follows Jarik's movements, still standing. He nods as Jarik approaches the chair, and gestures toward it again.

Jarik takes a seat in the chair cautiously. He has no reason to fear them… yet. No hostile moves have been made.

The cheetah Jarik saw previously walks up toward the chair – apparently having returned while he wasn't looking. She stands to the side, looking up to the unicorn, as if waiting for direction.

The unicorn nods in return, pointing to a strange orb-like device, which the cheetah picks up and brings toward the reclining fox, holding it over his head.

Jarik looks up and fidgets nervously. He looks the unicorn questioningly. "Um, I'm not sure about this thing… "

The unicorn looks impassive in response to Jarik's expressed worries, glancing to him only momentarily before returning his gaze to the gadget-covered globe being placed over the fox's head.

As Jarik looks about, he notices that more things in this office have suffered claw damage. Fragments of tiny black are encrusted in the wooden side of the desk.

The lieutenant wolf watches with a look of unconcern.

Jarik eyes the clawmarks and begins to fidget nervously.

The globe goes over Jarik's eyes, mercifully (?) shielding the clawmarks from sight. Everything's gray.

Jarik taps a claw on the armwrest nervously.

The robed unicorn leisurely walks over to a metal knife-switch mounted on the wall, taking hold of a wooden handle in his thick leather gauntlets. He watches and waits until it's evident that the bizarre helmet is in place – before snapping the switch down with a crackle and a few sparks as the lights in the room dim and flicker for a moment, though the candles still provide illumination.

And now everything really IS gray. Except… There's a shrouded figure standing at the edge of Jarik's vision. He is whispering something, a long constant drone, and he leans heavily on a staff.

Jarik blinks a couple of times.

He stretches out a hand that trembles, as if blind and looking for someone to help him walk.

Jarik walks over to the man and cautiously takes his hand…

It's like touching a live wire! Voltage pours from the man's hand into Jarik as his body convulses on the dentist's chair and wolf guards hold him down, in the real world. But in this semi-reality… Jarik feels words flowing into his brain, and more and more of the steady drone begins to make sense. They are – numbers. A few cryptic phrases.

"Three hundred thousand seventy six point nine… Conjunction of major pole stars across routes four and five… Ring approaching half illumination at third past matins… "

Jarik bares his teeth and squirms violently in the chair!

"Unusual shift of hyperspatial route four in effect – flux and warp parameters past three sigma and rising. Directive Rephidim Alpha Five in effect," the old man babbles. "Must report to Captain – priority – report to Cap – "

And the globe begins to lift from Jarik's head as the semi-reality fades out.

The words trail away. "The Captain is… "

Jarik's breathing is labored. He shakes his head violently, "Gah!"

Jarik's eyes focus onto the unicorn. His ears flatten…

The unicorn says, "Welcome to Rephidim, Exile. I am Arch Inquisitor Majoris Raphael Melchizedek. By what name should you be addressed?"

The unicorn's demeaner looks a bit less than a friendly welcome. If anything, he looks weary and maybe even a bit bored.

Jarik takes a few breaths, "I sir, am Jarik."

The Inquisitor nods, then gestures to the wolves.

The guards nod to the Inquisitor. They walk to the door and begin opening it again.

Jarik blinks, he just now realizes he understands what they're saying.

Jarik's eyes widen when he realizes he just SPOKE the same language.

"Well then, Jarik," the Inquisitor continues, "I understand that you were found by a tribe of barbarians in the frigid expanse. Where do you come from, and what manner of adventure or accident brought you here?"

Jarik exhales, "Well… thats a long story. Where I come from… originally, a world called Crydon. Off and on I've lived there as well as on a world called Genesis."

Jarik says, "How I got here… "

The unicorn's dark eyes bore into Jarik, scrutinizing him silently as the fox answers.

Jarik's brow furrows, "I was hoping someone here could tell me that. I don't really know."

One of the unicorn's eyebrows raises a moment – the first real expression of note he has displayed, and a subdued one at that. "Genesis, you say." His gaze at last departs from the fox as he paces around the chair.

Jarik shifts his weight a bit, "I used to travel by the use of a gating amulet. I activated it as usual to return to Genesis. What happened after that point" he shakes his head, "I woke up in that wasteland."

"Would you by any chance have travelled in the company of a diminutive rodent by the name of Ben'Zhamin?" the Inquisitor asks.

Jarik blinks, "I knew a Benjamin. King of the coves of Genesis."

Jarik's ear swivels, "I haven't spoken to him in over a year now."

Jarik tilts his head, "Why do you ask?"

The unicorn nods and files that away. "Most intriguing." Rather than answering Jarik's question, he continues, "Are you possessed of any magical abilities? Powers of healing or otherwise? Did you travel to this world under your own power?"

Jarik says, "I have an ability to aid healing… It seems to act oddly here though."

The Inquisitor pauses. "'Here'? Did you try to use this power in Rephidim?"

Jarik nods, "On this world, yes."

The Inquisitor nods again. "I would like to know why you left this other world, and why you came here. I would also appreciate learning what role you filled on this world of Genesis, and what you expect to do here."

Jarik sighs, "That IS a long story I'm afraid. I lived on Crydon, my home, until fate guided me into becoming a knight and paladin of the realm. I first left Crydon by accident in a fight with a mage. That's how I first found Genesis."

Jarik tilts his head, as if remembering, "I had several adventures there. But, my past caught up with me. My mentor came looking for me. I was needed back on Crydon. He had the gating amulet at that time. We returned to Crydon to lead the remaining army of its former King against the Tyrant who took over."

The unicorn interrupts Jarik. "'The gating amulet'? Please explain."

Jarik nods, "He had an amulet that could open a gate to anyplace the wearer had been before or if there was a person the wearer knew there. It was just a small blue stone in a gold setting."

The unicorn looks over Jarik suspiciously, then nods. "Continue."

Jarik says, "Well, we were able to reclaim the kingdom, but at great cost. My mentor, my best friend, died on the field of battle that day.""

Jarik rubs his side unconciously, "I almost died that day as well."

The black unicorn glances toward Jarik. "And, let me guess. This 'gating amulet' ended up in your possession, or else you would have not returned to this land of 'Genesis'?"

Jarik says, "Before he passed away he gave me the amulet and bade me to carry on the honor of the Crydonian Paladins.""

Jarik nods, "Correct."

The Inquisitor nods. "Do you still possess this artifact?"

Jarik shakes his head, "It was destroyed when I arrived here. The stone cracked. Useless."

Jarik says, "I gave it to the elder of the tribe who helped me."

The unicorn furrows his brow, regarding Jarik for a long, uncomfortable moment. "A pity to have lost an artifact of such power. Have you any other magical artifacts that were not destroyed by your transport here?"

Jarik says, "Anyway, my mentor also returned to me the sword that all leaders of the Crydonian paladins carried."

The unicorn nods and listens, pacing.

Jarik says, "The legends claimed that the sword was a gift to the first of my order. He rescued a dragon and the dragonrewarded him by creating him a magical weapon."

The unicorn glances in Jarik's direction with a look of surprise and suspicion, but only nods and continues listening.

Jarik says, "He also opened him up to the ways of magic. All Crydonian Paladins have learned to harness magic. It's a special sort of magic, one that isn't tied to the world but to ourselves. We learned how to use our 'life force' so to speak."

Jarik says, "As for the sword… I'm not entirely sure of what it was originally capable of. I know in my hands it can be used as a magic focus."

"And your power regards healing, yes?" the unicorn adds. "Have you any training in the healing arts, aside from magical abilities? Are you a trained physician or have you any knowledge of medicine?"

Jarik nods, "I do. When I'm exhausted, I can't use my magic. And in regards to myself. I can't heal myself. I've learned how to bandage, stitch, make basic ointments and the like."

The unicorn stops pacing, looking toward one of the candles for a time. After a moment, he looks back. "You have been most cooperative in asking my questions. I may seek you out in the future for further questioning, but based upon my observations and the report given me, I believe that there should be no need to detain you here. However – "

Jarik tilts his head?

" – there is the matter of a processing fee for Exiles who come to Sinai," the unicorn adds. "From what the Lieutenant has told me, you have no money. So, I can see two choices that you have in order to compensate for your Exile fee… "

Jarik nods slowly, "And they are… ?"

"You may either donate your sword to the Temple and its care … " the unicorn nods, "or else you may agree to serve the Temple as it sees fit, for a time. As for the latter option, it would seem you may be qualified to serve as a medical assistant, provided your abilities are verified."

Jarik blinks, "Sir… I see only one choice… that being the latter."

The unicorn nods, looking away. "If you had chosen the first, I would have seriously doubted your veracity. So be it. I will complete my reports. There will be some forms for you to fill out, of course, and then some tests to determine your capabilities, before any assignments are made."

Jarik nods slowly.

Jarik says, "Can I ask you something?"

The unicorn looks to Jarik. "Certainly. But whether I answer is another matter entirely."

Jarik says, "Where exactly am I?"

"You are in the Temple of Rephidim," the unicorn answers, "on the world of Sinai."

Jarik nods slowly and stands.

Jarik lays his hand on the clawmarks with his claws extended. He nods…

Jarik says, "Did you have another fox in here?"

The unicorn turns to face Jarik, eyebrow raised. "As a matter of fact, yes. Unfortunately, he was very … uncooperative."

Jarik nods, "Some are… more feral than others."

Jarik shrugs, "I thought that was a fox claw pattern, if you're wondering why I asked."

"I hope, however, that this will not be the case with you. You may leave. You will be escorted to quarters for the time being. Your interrogation for now is concluded," the unicorn pronounces.

Jarik nods and extends his hand, "It's been a pleasure."

The Inquisitor waves to the cheetah, who heads out the door. He does not take Jarik's proffered hand.

In a few moments, the cheetah returns with the Lieutenant who brought Jarik in. "Your will, milord?" the Lieutenant asks.

Jarik retracts his hand, "okay."

The Inquisitor turns toward the Lieutenant. "His questioning is completed. He will serve the Temple in order to cover his processing fee. See him to quarters."

"Of course, milord." The Lieutenant salutes to the Inquisitor, then gestures to Jarik. "This way."

Jarik bows and follows the Lieutenant.

Even before Jarik has left, without bothering to watch the departure, the Inquisitor sits at his desk again, tending to the next in a pile of forms, dipping his quill into an inkwell before starting to write on the parchment.

Jarik is standing in his quarters repositioning his recently returned weapon on his belt. He goes over to the small window and looks out over the city. He speaks softy to himself, "Well, this certainly isn't home… " He looks down at and closes his eyes. He shakes his head, thinking . o O {I'm to serve them for a year… not too bad all in all I supposed.} He look sback up out and out the window. His voice is rather sad, "But, will I ever see home again?"