Disturbed dreams give way to a bright and glaring sun that forces its way into Arkold's eyelids. It would seem that he is waking up, whether he likes it or not.

"Uhh?" groans the Jupani as he stirs from sleep. He reaches a lethargic paw up and over to rub his face as he tries to remember where he is, and if he had been drinking the night before.

It appears that he is on the island that he was on when they were trying to deal with those Sirens. Yes, over there are the dried up corpses of the planktoids, but the harpoons have been removed.

After a moment more of pulling himself from a sleepy stupor into the waking world, Arkold pulls himself to his feet. He shakes and brushes the sand away before making a quick inspection of himself and his equipment. "'Ey, anyone around?" he asks in the meantime as he checks.

Arkold has some crusted blood on his head, long dried. He also has some more on his body. Nearby is a prone gray rat. Hummer? No, that's the one who died early on in the Siren attack. Or something like that. It's really quite foggy. Something about another attack … except that they weren't Sirens. Floating clam-ships.

As memories start making a painful way back into the wolf's head, he shakes his head in disbelief. "Oh man … " Uncertain what to do, or exactly what happened at all, he tries to remember. Or find the next best thing, someone else who remembers. To this end he walks over and to the fallen rat and begins to search him for signs of life.

No, the rat is dead. And, it appears that it might very well be that most of the blood on Arkold used to belong to the rat. Arkold isn't nearly as bad off as he might look … though it feels like he still took a nasty konk to the head.

"Well ain't that a … " The wolf frowns. This is not good. He could very well be the only one left alive in his group on this whole island. He moves from the corpse and begins searching for other things. Weapons on himself or others, signs of a struggle that might help him remember, or survivors.

There are a few craters in the sand that haven't been filled in by the waves yet, and Arkold finds a couple of deformed projectiles that must have hit the sand. There are also several signs of heavy artillery hitting the rocks, which have fragmented in places. It looks like Arkold might have been struck by some of the stony shrapnel.

Arkold finds no other bodies, though he does find a few wrappers from Kampfzengruppe rations, and some other trash that verifies that, yes, the others were here, and at least that part wasn't just a dream.

After making the inspection, Arkold finds a undamaged rock and sits himself down. He props his head on his left hand and stares out into the ocean thoughtfully. ( An attack. Heh, and I didn't bite it. Well lessee. Pirates, yah, but here … why? )

The waves lap against the shore. Arkold is feeling exceedingly thirsty.

The Jupani sits up and suddenly smacks his fist into his other hand. "Ah! The base," he exclaims. Once he stands up again he begins walking for the ocean only to pause a few steps towards it finding himself in need of a drink. Salt water won't do, so pats himself down for a canteen while trying to remember if there is water on this island that isn't filled with salt.

No, this island isn't nearly large enough to have its own running water. And if it starts raining, the storms could well wash Arkold off of the island, so that'd be a mixed 'blessing' for sure. Arkold finds his canteen, which has half a mouthful of water in it.

The canteen is removed and the contents quickly consumed before it is put back away. The Jupani wipes his muzzle with the back of his arm and makes another look around. This time, he's searching for a breather. ( Ain't no water 'ere. Was gunna go to the base anyway, so eh, may as well go there for water too. )

There aren't any breathers lying about … and if there were, they'd be dried up and withered away by now. After all, they 'breathe' water.

There's a stirring in the water behind Arkold as he looks about the shore.

Without waiting to see what it is, Arkold bolts back for where he was laying. He glances back behind himself to see if he has time to play dead before whatever is behind him surfaces and notices him.

A head rises from the water, with seaweed-like hair spilling outward … a Siren!

Seeing the Siren begin to surface, and believing himself insufficient time to play dead, Arkold dives to hide behind the nearest rock!

The Siren continues to surface, or so Arkold's ears tell him, though he cannot see her, since he's now behind a rock.

Behind the rock Arkold searches himself to see if he still has a weapon on him.

Ah yes. Arkold has a spine gun … but it feels like it's been out of the water too long. It won't likely help him. Still, there's the gatling pistol.

The gatling pistol is removed from its holster and placed in the wolf's right hand, ready. Now that he's armed Arkold leans his head around the rock just enough to see what is happening beyond it, and hopefully not be seen in the process.

The Siren pulls herself ashore. Her seaweed-like hair is hanging over her face, plastered against it, making it difficult to get a clear look at her features – not that Arkold is personally acquainted with any Sirens anyway. The membranes that distinguish her as a Siren are clearly visible, though – She is obviously not an Abyssinian come out this far to rescue him.

( They're still here … ) Waiting patiently behind his cover, Arkold waits for the Siren to get on shore enough where she can't easily flounder back into the sea.

The Siren pulls herself up a little further, and looks like she's dragging the husk of one of the planktoids toward the water … though moving quite slowly, as she is obviously out of her element, and unable to move quickly.

"Freeze!" yells the Jupani in Khattan as he hops out from behind the rock, weapon trained on the Siren. "Don't even think about movin'."

The Siren looks up from the planktoid. For a moment, the half face that shows to him looks smooth and attractive … but then some of the seaweed-like strands fall aside, revealing the right half of her face, which is marred and horribly scarred, missing one eye. Similarly, it looks like she bears a number of scars on her right side. She looks directly at the Jupani with her one good eye.

Arkold slowly begins walking forward, the large gun he caries never deviating from its target. "Alright, fishy, you're gunna answer some questions. First tell me where the others 'ere went." He waves his free hand at the beach.

The Siren just stares back at Arkold, expressionless.

"Ahhh, Vhai! Answer me!" he yells at the Siren. He repeats his words again in Bosch and Rephidim standard, leaving the colorful language out the second and third time around.

The Siren looks at Arkold a moment more … then looks back to the planktoid's remains … and starts dragging them, slowly, toward the water once more.

The Jupani stares at the Siren for a moment before he lifts his gun and points it at her. "Can't yah hear me? You wanna die?!" He moves up even closer now, only a few steps away from her.

The Siren doesn't so much as look up at the wolf, stubbornly and slowly dragging the dried husk back toward the water.

"Rrrr." Unwilling to just gun her down with so limited an ammunition supply, the Jupani dashes forward and takes a swing at the Siren to prevent her from moving any further.

Arkold's hand connects, making a loud crack sound as he strikes her across the face. The Siren flops down, losing her already awkward balance, planting her scarred face in the wet sand.

The Jupani flexes his hand for a moment and then nods grimly. "Right. See eh? No goin' anywhere. Yah ain't very useful if you don't answer my questions, so yah had better answer, or I'm gunna have to get rid of yah," he tells the fallen Siren, again in multiple languages.

By the time Arkold repeats his threat in all three languages, the Siren struggles back up, bracing her arms against the sand. A bruise can be seen forming on her left cheek, but she does not look directly up at the wolf. She pauses a moment, then … returns to her slow and vain attempt to drag the dead creature toward the water.

"Uhh … Hey … ?" His face quirking with confusion, Arkold reaches up and scratches his head. "Eh, they're mindless. Like some sort'a … zombie. Zombie … fish." He glances over at the body being dragged away and ponders it for a moment, thinking if it could hold him, and if it has an air supply within.

It is fairly dried up and fragile, and too much turmoil would probably cause it to break up. However, it is conceivable that within its cavity, it might serve as a very primitive – and flimsy – diving bell, since the skin seems to retain some small measure of its rubbery nature.

With a shrug, the wolf begins walking towards the shriveled-up mass. "Die here, die there … eh … ," he grumbles. Once near the smelly thing, he begins searching for a way inside.

It looks like there's a bit of a rift torn open in the bottom from the Siren's dragging. In fact, it looks like Arkold would be able to have a much easier time of taking the thing into the water – or its dead companions – than the Siren would.

With a little bit of muscle-work – and Arkold doesn't feel terribly weak just yet – he should be able to tear this thing open.

And that's just what he does. After holstering his pistol he walks over and begins tearing an space large enough for him to fit in from the bottom area. He tries to give the Siren space though, just in case.

The Siren just stares for a while, at this grisly display on Arkold's part … but once he's done, after a long pause … she resumes dragging the husk back to the water. There is no way that she could be strong enough to pull the husk and Arkold's weight as well across the sand. Likely, it would just tear the husk apart.

To facilitate the moving of the husk, Arkold climbs inside. From here he braces his hands against the room of the creature's innards and begins walking it towards the water,assisting the Siren so the corpse is not torn beyond being usable.

The husk moves a lot more quickly to the water … and soon Arkold is swimming. The rubbery husk seems to be holding for now, though it is not terribly rigid, and the water presses in. The best Arkold can manage is to grab the husk about him like some sort of bag, as the air is compressed into a smaller portion. It's not clear just how long this source of air will last … and it seems that the Siren is letting him just bob here in the water for now, as she swims back to the shore.

For now, Arkold decides to wait in this makeshift diving bell. ( If she brought it out 'ere, maybe someone bigger will come and get it. ) As he waits, he puts his head into the water below him to see if he can make out anything below him.

It looks like … lots of water, and a sandy beach where the shoreline extends a little bit out, and then the shelf drops deeply. Arkold sees no others.

Time passes. If the Siren's earlier "progress" at dragging back the first husk was any indication, it will take even longer to drag back both of the others that were further in away from the water.

With a roll of his eyes, Arkold decides to go help with the other two. Thus he makes his way out from under this corpse to go help pull one of the others into the water, and then make another bubble out of the last one pulled from shore.

It takes a little while, but Arkold is able to make much better progress in carrying the other husks to the water. The Siren just watches him as he does this, a confused look on her face, but as he begins to make a bubble out of the remaining one, she bows her head to him, and presses her two webbed hands in front of her muzzle, touching them with her lips … and then brings her hands apart again, as she slides into the water, fetching up a length of seaweed bound together in a cord, and linking it up to the husks.

A similar confused look is cast to the Siren when she bows to the Jupani. Uncertain exactly how to respond, he shoots her an awkward thumbs up. ( Real smooth, wolf. ) He then moves the last husk into the water near her to see if she binds this one too.

A bit of jerking on the husk indicates that it has been secured as well … and then there is a sudden yank as the Siren, once in the water, is most definitely back in her element, and pulls all three husks – one of them containing Arkold – through the water. The husk strains at his weight, and it seems that the rubbery shell will tear, as it is stretched between the backward resistance of tugging Arkold's form through the water, and the forward tug of the seaweed cord!

To prevent the sack from tearing, Arkold fumbles both hands under the tear in attempt to grab the cord himself and hold on to it, which he hopes will keep the stress on him and not the envelope.

Arkold's gambit pays off … the cord is significantly more secure than the husk, and sturdy enough to support his weight. It looks like he's going on a little journey now…

With one hand he holds the cord, and with the other he keeps a grip on the rubbery corpse to keep it from drifting away, or him from drifting away from it during the movement. ( Uh … Man, this is some plan … Hope it's better than the last one. ) His muzzle twitches in a smirk, and off he goes.

The pressure is getting higher, and the air is getting faint. Plus, the water is very cold. Good thing that Arkold has this nicely insulated wetsuit. Too bad it's not perfectly sealed, what with his tail sticking out the back. And really too bad he couldn't find a breather.

It's really dark down here … but there are lights occasionally flitting about. Luminescent fish and … Sirens. Lots of them. Enough to suggest a city like that of the Abyssinians … only that there's no sign of any city.

The wolf begins to shiver now, not only because he's freezing his tail off, but because he's fairly deep and without a breather. His smirk has faded into a frown a much less optimistic frown. Regardless he continues to watch and see where he is taken.

Several of the luminescent forms are closing in on Arkold's husk. Yes, Sirens are approaching. And it's hard to tell … but it looks like Arkold might be coming closer to some sort of floor … Yes, some luminescent seaweed can be seen, which would imply that it's anchored somewhere. The ocean floor here is sloped … well … it's kind of hard to tell exactly, since Arkold has little by way of point of reference, but it does seem like the Siren pulling him along is slowing down.

It feels so hard to keep his consciousness, though. Grip … getting weak.

The Jupani decides this is a bad about now, and reaches for his knife. He quickly uses it to reach over and cut the cord he's holding to that the air filled pocket might be released back to the surface. He holds on tight with his other hand with what strength remains.

As the bag is suddenly released, Arkold topples backward … and water gushes into the bag, as what little air remains pours out!

Water pouring in, the wolf takes a breath of the air before it escapes and holds it. He struggles out of it and in the water, searches for somewhere to go.

There's water all around … dark … approaching lights, shimmering … and the cold …

And the songs … the songs of sirens reach his ears through the water. A whole chorus of them.

And these are the last things Arkold hears … as the darkness and the cold consume him.

If only death were that easy.

The next thing Arkold experiences is a sharp pain in his chest, and the sensation of thrashing about and gasping for air – air! Yes, there's air, but everything is so dark, and there are … there are hands clinging to him.

The Jupani's eyes snap wide open, and he struggles towards where he feels air! Precious air, something he had been doing with for … a length of time he cannot recall right now. And he doesn't give it much more thought, either. What is important now is that he wants to breathe.

Barely has Arkold a moment to get it … when he feels strong arms thrusting him forward … and he slams down against solid rock, partially submerged in a thin layer of water, and slick with slimy mold. With his eyes open now, he can see that it is not quite so dark anymore … He is in some sort of cavern chamber, lined with luminescent mosses … and in the water all about him are a multitude of Sirens, traces of light running the lengths of their bodies. Small glowing fish flit about in the waters between them, darting and preying upon each other … and sometimes being snapped up by a Siren waiting for a snack.

On the rock and dripping with slime he's not sure of, Arkold coughs out the water from his lungs and exchanges it for fresh air. He takes some time to recover from the horrible experience of near-drowning. The burning in his chest from water reaching his lungs doesn't help either.

Dimly visible on the far side of the rock shelf, a Siren reclines on the slimy surface. The right side of her face is scarred … yes, it's the same one that towed Arkold here. She sits on the slope, her tail curled about her, half-dangling in the water, supporting her upper half on her arms, and keeping her face low and not looking upon anyone. She looks more bruised than Arkold remembers leaving her.

"Ugh … " The Jupani pulls himself farther into the cavern, occasionally slipping and falling roughly against the floor before he picks himself up and moves on. "Geh … " When he is enough out of the water that falling won't submerge more than a bit of his body, he slumps to the ground watches the Siren off away from the others. "Hey … " he coughs again, " … fancy meetin' you 'ere … "

The Siren looks up for a moment to look at Arkold, but there is a harsh-sounding bellow from elsewhere in the chamber, and she abruptly drops her eyes again, her body trembling.

There is a disturbance in the water, as what looks like a large clam shell … no, not the size of one of those pirate vessels, and not sporting any sort of machinery … surfaces. It has been fashioned into a throne, it seems, and seated upon it is a Siren … or, that is, a creature of the same species as the Sirens, but half again as large, with broad shoulders and masculine shoulders, and a firm set to his jaw.

( I know that look. The Savanite slaves from home had the same one … ) With effort, Arkold pulls himself up to his knees. He clutches his pained chest and rests until the water stirs again. His head shifts and he peers up at this sight. It's … "A male Siren … "

"Call me a Triton," the creature says in a deep, rumbling voice that sounds like that of the ocean itself. He shifts about on his clam throne, holding a spear fashioned out of the bony nose-horn of some sort of sea creature. "That would be a more appropriate term from your language." His accent sounds exotic, hard to place. He speaks in Khattan, technically flawless, but still oddly inflected, as if he were parroting words he were hearing, without fully understanding them.

"Triton, 'ey?" With a bit more effort Arkold pushes himself to his feet. He staggers a few steps to his left, feet not quite rested from his last experience ad unable to keep perfect balance. "So, uhh … yer the king of the Sirens or somethin'?" The wolf's ear flick as he finds his words lacking.

"Yes," answers the creature. "I am the mightiest of the Tritons, and my harem is surpassed by none." His chest swells with pride, as he reaches over to stroke the cheek of a Siren reclining at the side of his shell throne. He turns back to Arkold, and frowns. "You are one of the foreigners. The ones who consort with the Defilers. Why have you come here? Do you seek death?"

The Jupani reaches up and scratches his head again. "Ehh, aaaactually, it wasn't exactly my choice to come to this 'ere planet of yours," he answers. A second later he asks a question of his own. "And, I don't really know who yah mean by Defilers. Yah mean the Mariners? The other ones like you?"

The Triton scowls, and roars, "NOT like us! They are abominations!" He growls and rumbles, sinking back into his throne, as two females stroke his seaweed-like mane in an attempt to calm him down. He rumbles, "They perform atrocities against the order of nature."

With the bellow, the Jupani's ears lay back. After nearly drowning, looking brave takes more strength than he can spare right now. "Oh. Well if it means anythin' to yah, I agree with yer views there … uh … sire. I've seen there 'factories', and it's disgustin'." He shakes his head. "Anyway, the people who tell me what to do and who to kill think those abominations are the best thing since zolk."

The Triton's eyes narrow. "So … you have nothing to do with their … 'splicing'?"

"You mean the combinin' of different creatures, cutting them and pasting them back together like some grotesque puzzle game? No, I don't," answers the Jupani. He finds his sore legs to be uncomfortably weary now, and he sits down right where he is. " I jus' do what I'm told. I'm one of their in-debt soldiers. Most of us are just here 'cause we didn't have any other choice."

Triton furrows his brow, as if scrutinizing Arkold, and toys with a curl of his mane as he twists it about one finger. "Is this true? Perhaps, then, I shall not find it necessary to kill you. If you are as appalled by these things as we are, then you will assist us in our battle."

The Jupani, having been ringing out his coat as he listens, pauses when the Triton finishes. "Eh, it bothers me, but … they'll have my hide if I help you. Yah see, I can't exactly … heh, oppose them." He reaches for his belt and searches for his knife before he continues. "They hold my leash."

No, it's not there. Funny, they didn't see fit to leave Arkold with his weapons in the presence of their leader.

The creature says, "If they are defeated, they can do nothing against you. And if you die … then at least you will die with honor, in the fight to preserve the natural order against these abominations."

The Jupani frowns, then almost immediately, smirks. "Right, yah, should'a guessed you wouldn't leave me with a weapon. Heh. No point in attackin' you anyway. I could kill the lot of yah and I'd still be stuck down here to rot." He reaches up and pushes some wet hair out of his face. "Look, I don't have any honor, okay? I haven't anywhere to go, and, well, you get the idea. All I got is what was in my knife, and yah know … I can't exactly get that stuff from just anyone. I'm not here to care about what people are fighting for. I just fight, because I have to. Because they give me what makes life better then the alternative."

"Then, you are saying that you will not assist us?" asks the creature on the throne.

"Give me what I need, and … I'll do whatever you want, okay?" responds the wolf as he looks up to the throne.

After a tired sigh, the Jupani looks off towards the water. "With them, with you … Heh, whatever. If you give me whatI need … I'm guessin' you're a better leader than Cap'n Kitten, anyway … "

"I do not fully understand your statement," responds the Triton. "Do you mean to say, 'give me the tools I require to serve you, and I shall do as you bid'? Or is there something that you require in exchange for your services?"

The Jupani looks back over towards the Triton and nods his head a little. "Both, really. You got my knife around? I'm gunna have to show you … so yer gunna have to let me have it for a second," he replies.

"If you insist," says the Triton, "but if you intend to do any harm, no mercy will be shown you." He makes a strange guttural bellow from the depths of his chest, which reverberates loudly through the cavern. In less than a second, a Siren slips up to the rocky shelf, holding Arkold's scabbarded knife in both hands, and lifts it up to him.

"Thanks, toots," says the wolf as he picks up his knife. No, he doesn't leap for the Triton with it. Instead he just unscrews the end of the handle and very carefully pulls out the vial of white powder. He offers this to the Triton. "I need this. It's uh … special … powder, and the people like me have it 'round. I ain't gunna be any good unless I get it enough each day. You get me what I need of that and, somethings I'll think up later, and you have yerself a soldier."

The Triton nods to one of his female servants. She swims over to Arkold's rock, and reaches out toward his hand. "Give her a sample of this special powder," the Triton commands.

Almost about to make a snide remark just out of reflex, Arkold lets his muzzle pause half opened and decides against it. He does what he's told for now and opens the cork of the bottle. A bit of the powder is poured into the hand of the female Siren near him. "Careful with that stuff. I inhale it, but you might not wanna do that. Or if yah have to, just a little," he mentions.

The female doesn't register as if she understands a word that Arkold says … but she carefully swims over toward the Triton's throne, keeping her hand out of the water the whole while, and climbs up onto the edge, extending her hand to the leader. He takes a sample of the powder, and sniffs at it. "Ah. Powder of the winged folk."

Arkold tilts his head curiously. "Winged … folk? I ain't never 'eard of 'em. Who are they?" he asks.

The Triton says, "You should know more of that than we. They are very fragile, and have enormous ears. We have found some powder like this in their possession. We can find more."

"Oh, them. The Eeee. Go ahead and break them all yah like, I ain't got any love of 'em. I just want their powder." Arkold carefully puts the bottle back in the knife and seals it away for the time being. "If yah want me to fight for you, I need to be able to breath. As you may have, heh, noticed I can't breath underwater. Oh and I'm gunna need guns. Lots of guns, and preferably big ones."

The Triton dumps the powder sample from his hand. "All in good time. I would like to learn that I can trust you with a knife before I will trust you with a gun. And we will find ways to make use of your abilities. If you serve me well, you will be well rewarded, with as much of this 'special powder' as you desire. I shall be so generous as to capture any females of your species we encounter, for your pleasure, if you perform well."

Arkold coughs suddenly, almost dropping the knife right out of his hands. He's grinning rather dumbly now, too. "You got a lot of incentive workin' for yah there, sire. Much more than the people who brought me 'ere." The knife is puts away now, least something else cause him to actually drop it. "We can talk about reward later though, because it's gunna distract me now when I need to ask some questions. Think I can inquire of you, sire?"

"You may," answers the Triton, "for so long as you do not weary me."

"More receptive too. Yah, if the Temple were run by your kind, the 'ole world wouldn't be complainin' about 'em now," says Arkold. The Jupani moves back to his feet now that he's had some rest, and brushes himself off. "Do yah know anything about the pirates, the ones in the big 'ole clams, ones bigger than the one yer sittin' on? Their leader calls 'imself a Warlord?"

"You speak of the Lazulians," answers the Triton. "They are the crippled ones … unable to live in the ocean, so they float above it."

Now that he isn't in any apparent danger, Arkold relaxes into a more cocky pose. He shifts his weight to one leg and folds his arms across his chest. "Are they friends of yers?" he asks.

"We have nothing to do with them," responds the Triton, "and they have nothing to do with us."

"Eh, if I serve you, are they gunna do anything against me? I kinda … " the wolf clears his throat a bit, " … beat up his sons, crippled one of his ships, and stole some of his stuff."

The Triton says, "That is no concern of mine. If you please me, then we will deal with the Lazulians if they have grudges against you. If not, then may nature take its course."

Arkold grins lopsidedly. "Right. Do as I'm told, and I'll be fine. I know the drill." He nods a bit to emphasize his statement before he continues on. "So, anyway, why do the Abominations get you in Dagh's own rage beyond what yah told me? Or is that enough? And you know, I think that's enough right there."

The Triton simmers. "The abominations are insults against the natural order. The Defilers inflict cruelties upon life. We hold all life to be sacred. Blood is to be shed in the struggle for dominance and for the acquiring of food – for survival – not for the twisting of living forms into new, disfigured shapes, and the endless torment it brings."

"Well 'ey, you're a regular nice guy. And here I thought you were all mindless killers without re- … Heh, eh, guess I was wrong." The wolf shifts his weight to his other leg and glances around the room for a moment. "What's yer opinion on the 'foreigners'? People like me?"

The Triton says, "Your comrades that deal with the Defilers are to be slain, so long as they align themselves with the makers of the abominations. You are most fortunate to have been given an opportunity to redeem yourself."

Arkold grins more fully now. "Well 'ey, how can I refuse yer offer? Most of my kind would switch side if the- … well, let's not worry about them right now. Just know they do what they're told 'cause they have to. They real targets are their leaders; they're the ones who are real chums with the Abominations. Or as they call 'em, Mariners. Right now they know them 'Abyss Mariners'. Been to their city, it's pretty twisted," he explains.

The Triton nods. "Will that be all?"

"Oh no! I got a few more, and if yah wanna know anythin' about yers truly, I can talk. Heh, I even used to be a noble. It's like a king on my world," answers Arkold. He unfolds his hands begins cracking his knuckles. "How do youplan to fight the combined forces of the off-worlders and the Abominations anyway? They got technology, and it's pretty fierce. Or is that gunna be my job to figure out?"

The Triton says, "We can discuss that later. I weary of these questions. This will be your new home." He gestures to the chamber.

The wolf's eyes move to inspect the chamber, and the ends of his muzzle twitch. "Ah, yah, of course … Um, I guess we can discuss this later too. Right." He turns back towards the Triton and snaps him a salute, and a genuine one at that. "Well it's been a pleasure. You kin just think of me as yer, uhh, right hand man. A knight of sorts. Whatever you say."

The Triton gives Arkold what might be deemed a patronizing smile. He looks over toward the bruised Siren that is sitting on Arkold's rocky shelf. "I will give you this one," he says. "She will see to your needs. If she displeases you, you may kill her."

The Jupani lets his hand fall and goes back to having his arms folded across his chest. He nods towards the damaged Siren's direction. "Yah, understood. We've met before even."

"Just can yah get the others to leave 'er alone? I can't have my slaves bein' beaten," asks Arkold as he studies the Siren.

The Triton nods. "She is your responsibility now. No hand shall be upon her but yours." He then turns toward the Siren. "You are allowed to speak, but you may not speak unless your new sire commands it." He then nods to Arkold … and the clamshell throne sinks into the water.

Another, less energetic salute is given to the Triton as he sinks into the water. Once he's gone, Arkold walks over to a wall and drops himself down against it. "Ah … what a day … "

The "wall" is just a rocky bit rising from the stone island he's on in the center of the water-filled cavern … but it supports his weight well enough. The Siren assigned to Arkold just remains where she has been for all this time, as the lights vanish from the waters, and the Triton and his harem depart.

"Hey, you got a name?" asks the Jupani as he makes himself as comfortable as he can against the rock. His arms are folded back behind his head to help support his head. "And yah kin talk. Yah'll probably be all I gots to talk to anyway fer awhile."

There is a pause, and then the Siren looks up to Arkold, her one eye fixing upon him in the dim light cast by the glowing mosses on the walls. "Raneah," she whispers in an uneven, long unused voice, though even the whisper carries here.

Arkold shifts a little bit, and then a little bit more. His eyes narrow and he reaches under himself to pull out a rock which he tosses to the side. "Raneah, eh? Well that's fine with me. Looks like we both had a run in with the wrong way of a weapon … what happened to you eh? Yer scars are worse than mine," he asks.

The Siren locks her eye with Arkold's. "Explosion. Harpoon from urgan."

The Jupani just smiles when the Siren looks at him. It's not a very believable smile, though. "Eh, was it you?" he asks.

The Siren just looks down at the rocky shelf.

"Hey hey, wait, it wasn't you was it? The Siren I shot with that harpoon that day they dragged me onto this soaked world?" he inquires. Curious, Arkold sits himself up and he leans forward a bit to study her.

Yes, it could very well be the same one, though she looks to be in poorer health than he remembers … plus, of course, there's the matter of all those scars. "That is true," Raneah answers.

The Jupani reaches up and scratches his ear, his eyes widening a bit in amazement. "If that ain't the most ironic … " He shakes his head in disbelief before he drops himself back to rest upon the rock. "Don't think I feel guilty. You were tryin' ta kill me back then."

"Of course," answers the Siren.

"See? I'm not guilty of anythin'. And you'd be dead right now if my aim had been better," gruffs Arkold. He closes his eyes and shifts a bit more. "Not like it was personal either. And, not like it matters anymore. I guess I'm on yer side now … and yer mine, so I guess that means I gotta protect yah too. Hm. They don't treat yah well because you lost against me?"

"You are correct," the Siren answers. "I am damaged and imperfect."

"Damaged and imperfect? So, what they just treat you like dirt now that you're all messed up?" asks the wolf as he continues to try and make himself comfortable. It's not working too well, though.

"You are correct," the Siren answers. "This does not heal."

"Hmmf." Eyes open, and Arkold reaches over and runs a finger along one of his facial scars. "No, they never do. Yer just gunna have to live with it. But look on the bright side. I'm yer master now. And yah, I may have been the one who did that to you, but I'm also the one who can make yer life a lot easier here. So, as I see it, we're both different. I do well fer the Triton, and if I'm happy, yer gunna be too." His eyes narrow. "Just don't think what happened to you was personal. That's a good way to end up dead."

"Of course," the Siren whispers.

With a huff, the Jupani settles back once more against the rock. This time he manages to actually get comfortable, and he closes his eyes again. "It must really get at you, to have some foreigner come to yer lands and when yah fight back, you end up scarred. And then his slave. Guess what?"

"I do not know what you wish me to guess," the Siren answers.

"Well I'll tell yah what. The same … the same thing happened to me! Rr, eh, well … you get used to it. Just gotta learn how to deal with it and it ain't so bad. You should try and find somethin', you know, to make it easier on yerself. Some kinda … mind-numbin' fish or whatever you got down here." The wolf's muzzle twitches again, and he shifts to lay on his side. "Bah. I'll show 'em all anyway. But … " he yawns, " … after I sleep. See I'm not disturbed."