The knight's exploration of the Temple has taken him to new places this time – a place he has never been before … and by the accumulation of dust and decay, apparently few others have been this way for a long time, either.

The corridors here lack the smooth polished panels that can be found in most of this building … Instead, corroded and at times broken conduits, pipes and cables stretch along the length of the corridor and sometimes dangle from the ceiling like hanging vines.

Jarik leans against the wall panting, "Gah, that door was almost impossible to open… " He runs his fingers through his headfur, getting it out of his eyes. "What is this place?" he asks himself…

In the darkness, the fox is able to discern that there is some ambient light coming from ahead. Either he has come around full circle back to the more habited places … or else there's something different up ahead.

The fox looks up at the hanging wires and pipes. "What sort of builder would build like this? What purpose does these ropes serve?" he mumbles.

Jarik coughs on the musty air and heads toward the light. He runs his finger along a wall and notices the extreme amount of dust that he removes. "Well, at least I'm the only one here… " he thinks.

Approaching the end of the corridor, the fox can see an opening ahead – and a railing that marks the edge. It would seem that this passageway leads to some sort of balcony or stairway into a larger chamber from which a flickering light can be discerned.

Jarik carefully heads through the opening, his curiousity getting the better of him.

The corridor opens up into a huge chamber that stretches both above and below. The floor of the 'balcony' is a thick wire grating, and he can see through it, past his feet – a long drop below. However, despite the state of decay, this platform seems sturdy enough, and may have even been reinforced not all that long ago.

Jarik's hand drops to his swordbelt instinctively. His brow furrows and ears droop a bit when he encounters nothing but air. His familiar sword, gone.

A railing surrounds the platform, preventing any accidental drops off the side. On each side of the balcony, long tapestries – their images undiscernable from this angle – hang from high above.

Jarik looks over the edge into the pit, trying to see where it goes.

The air is still in heavy in this tall chamber, its peaked ceiling lost in a maze of frayed cables and corroded conduits that stretch from wall to wall. In the center of the chamber, a multi-faced column reaches all the way from ceiling to floor, at the base of which is a neglected shrine surrounded by racks of burning candles that let off a faint aroma of incense and a flickering glow that makes the shadows dance. Long tapestries hang on the walls, depicting scenes from various legends of ages past. There is dust and decay everywhere … except for the immediate area about this shrine. Polished and shining, reflecting the light of the candles, the shrine itself appears to be an ancient console, its primary screen dead and empty.

Far below, at the base of the central column – where the odd shrine can be seen – there is a kneeling figure in red and black robes.

Jarik looks for a staircase…

The platform does not seem to be made for easy access to the floor. Near the entrance, though, is a strange metal panel with lots of translucent orbs mounted on it. The platform is affixed to some metal tracks and pipes. Someone mechanically inclined might discern that this platform was meant to raise or lower by some means.

Jarik yells down to the figure below, "Hello… ?"

Jarik hrms and gets an idea… He kneels down and tugs on the tapestry with a paw, testing it's strength.

"HELLO?" "HELLO?" "HELLO?" "hello?" "hello?"

Jarik's call echoes again and again through the chamber, making a couple of conduits nearby hum with the resonance.

The tapestry, dry and brittle with age, easily tears in Jarik's grasp.

Jarik curses under his breath. He looks down, wondering just HOW far below the floor is.

The robed figure at the shrine stands and looks upward toward Jarik. It's a familiar face within that cowl – black, equine-deer-like, with a red mane, and a dark spiraling horn … and a scowling expression that does not look the least bit pleased.

Jarik erps, "Ut oh… "

A thick leather gauntlet points up in Jarik's direction. "You! Up there! What do you think you're doing?"

Jarik waves to the robed figure. "I was just looking around the tower… " he answers. Jarik points to the passageway he entered from, "I stumbled into that passageway and followed the light. I'm sorry if I've intruded. I meant no harm."

"Well," the unicorn growls, "you can stumble right back where you came from." He waits for no response at all, kneeling back down in front of the shrine once more, his eyes closed and face turned to the floor.

The faint whispers of the last echoes die away, leaving the chamber in dead silence. Even Jarik's breathing seems lost in the vastness of the chamber.

Jarik says, "Sir? What is this place?"

The unicorn winces. His fists clench.

The Inquisitor abruptly stands up. "It's no place for an abominable FOOL who has no sense whatsoever but to disturb the meditations of an Inquisitor! If you were not an Exile, I would have you lashed at once, Ensign Jarik of Creydon! As it is, I shall have a word with my lieutenant about proper discipline in his men."

From behind the unicorn, a soldier strides quietly into the chamber, through a tall peaked archway at the floor level.

Jarik's ears flatten, "I apologize for the intrusion, sir." He turns and heads back toward the passage, "Do you dislike all exiles as much as me, sir?"

The soldier isn't one Jarik recognizes. But then, none of this part of the Temple is familiar to him, either. The lanky wolf carries a heavy chitin blade.

The unicorn covers his face. "Do you so desire such a special place of honor as to be the most despised? Back to your duties, Ensign, and perhaps I shall be too distracted to remember this occasion. Be out of here soon, or I shall have less cause to be forgetful."

Back in the dark passage as he turns around, Jarik notices a glint of light for just an instant.

Jarik scowls and heads back into the dark passage. His ears perk when he notices the light and he heads toward it.

The glint of light might have something to do with something which slices through the air near Jarik just as he abruptly begins to move forward.

By the sound of it, it would seem he's not alone in this corridor.

Jarik leaps backward and prepares for whatever is about to attack him… "Show yourself, coward!" Swordless as Jarik is, he prepares foe a fight. A sliding sound is head as he draws out his small push dagger, the gift from the Vykarins.

Jarik backs away back toward the lit chamber…

There is a loud crack as the swinging blade of Jarik's foe impacts a dangling, swinging cable. The severed cable swings and slaps against Jarik's thigh weakly.

Jarik's ears tilt forward… He tries to locate breathing or thre sound of the blade moving through the air…

Jarik's opponent advances out onto the platform as well. He wears the uniform of a Temple guard, but it is ill-fitting, improperly tucked. The scrawny wolf – or is it a wolf at all? – holds a large chitin blade which he eagerly swings in the fox's direction.

From below and behind, Jarik can hear a cracking sound that echoes through the chamber.

With silent grace and speed unexpected by the attacker Jarik deftly avoids the swinging blade. The fox moves quickly next to the wolf, placing his left hand on the sword-wielding hand of the wolf. Eyes narrow, a glint of a smile from the fox, the sound of the air being moved aside. Jarik's pushblade finds its new home, buried in the swordarm of the wolf, just above the wrist. Jarik's left hand follows up, grabbing the chitin sword's crossguard, and he tries to pull it away…

The wolf lets out a very un-lupine squeal, his eyes going wide with pain, as he drops the sword, clasping at the wound with his free hand.

Jarik releases the dagger and tosses the chitin sword into his right hand. He grabs the dagger with his left and rips it free from the wolf's arm. Almost like a dance, Jarik spins, sliding the chitin sword across the wolf's theighs, hoping to cripple him so he can head back to the Inquisitor's chamber quickly.

The wolf shrieks and crumples against the rail. This seems almost TOO easy.

Jarik moves quickly back to the chamber and looks down to the Inquisitor below…

The scene below at the shrine below has some similarities to Jarik's – There is another wolf dressed in the uniform of a Rephidim Temple guard, bearing a chitin sword – this one with a bit of blood on the end. The figure of the Inquisitor lies sprawled on the floor, his robes torn and bloodstained. Right now, the warrior seems to have his hands full with a cheetah who is slashing ferociously – but ultimately ineffectively – with her claws at the attacker. Unlike Jarik's opponent, this soldier is fully equipped in chitin armor, which is more than capable of deflecting the blows, but even so he seems a bit off balance … or is he PLAYING with her?

Jarik snarls, "Time to even the score, cowards!" He tucks the push dagger into his belt and swings himself over the railing… He lets go and extends his claws. He makes a grab for the tapestry… Seconds seem to last forever… then a tearing sound is heard. His claws found a home in the old cloth. He just hopes it'll keep his descent safe…

The cloth tears audibly, sending a cloud of dust into the air, but it does the trick. Jarik's descent is slowed and he reaches the floor safely … safely, that is, except for the sword-bearing thug who is already waiting at the bottom for him.

Jarik faces the armored swordswolf. "How about attacking someone who

ISN'T

A chitin blade arcs toward Jarik's midsection in answer to the fox's challenge.

The other hand follows with a sack of powder which the wolf flings in the knight's face. A stinging cloud of smoke burns at Jarik's eyes.

Jarik steps back and parries the attack with his newfound weapon. He reaches back to his push dagger and takes it into his hand… "AAAGH!" the fox screams as the powder hits his eyes! He's blinded!

A leg sweeps at Jarik's feet in an attempt to trip him.

Still stunned by the powder the foot makes full contact with Jarik's legs… He goes down with a hard thud on the floor.

The wolf gloats, taking a moment to fill the chamber with his mocking laughter.

Jarik shakes his head and snarls, "Coward… " He rolls to his stomach and pulls his legs up a bit under him… He makes a roll away from where he last knew the wolf was and shakily regains his footing. He turns to face the wolf's laughter.

"Over here! Over here! That's it! Just a few steps closer … Warmer … warmer," the wolf taunts, his laughter still echoing off the walls.

{Remember your teaching, fox. When blinded, listen for the blade, for your opponent's breathing. Let him come to you… } Jarik thinks.

Jarik just smiles, "Eyes can be decieving, my friend. I do not need to see to be able to kill you… "

Jarik's ears focus forward, listening.

Laughter meets the fox's ears once more. "Well, I'm sure you'll find it a lot harder once you're missing your head." There is a whistling through the air as the chitin blade makes a wide arc, held in both hands by the wolf.

Jarik hears the blade whistle as it closes in on his head. He moves his chitin blade up and drops to a crouch in an attempt to parry the attack.

The wolf's attack is too forceful for him to avert the course, and, as he watches in surprise, the fox's parry proves successful. The attacker staggers from the impact, trying to recover for an all-out thrust.

Jarik listens, trying to hear the wolf breathing, his ears swiveling, trying… hoping… to locate him in time.

The wolf is audible enough – "RAAAAARRRRRRR!" He charges forward, blade extended, aiming to impale the fox on its tip.

Jarik waits till he believes the wolf is only feet from him… He drops his sword and swings it up HARD. He apparently hopes to deflect the incoming blow. His left hand tightens it's grip on the push dagger… If he blocks successfully… Jarik thinks. o O {Yes, keep yelling and my dagger will easily find a way to your head… }

In a flash of blades and movements too fast for onlookers to accurately follow, the exchange carries through, and the chamber thunders with the echoes of the melee. As the resonations die away, a still-blinded Jarik is the last one standing, a twitching form at his feet – the wolf's eyes wide and lifeless, a greenish ooze seeping from his mouth.

Before the shrine can return to silence once more, there are the sounds of many approaching – running – footsteps. "Drop your weapon!" a voice calls out. "Spread out!"

Jarik drops his dagger… He winces and moves his left hand to his right shoulder. He's wounded; the wolf's blade wasn't deflected enough. He's got a sizeable gash in his shoulder. When the fox hears "drop your weapon," he calls out, "Who is it?"

The fox can hear the sounds of many warriors moving out and about the chamber. Someone approaches, and he can hear the sound of the body at his feet being kicked over, the chitin sword rattling against the floor as it drops from the assassin's dead hand.

Jarik's right hand opens and the chitin blade falls to the ground with a chunk. He couldn't continue fighting with his right arm regardless of who it is.

Through watery eyes, Jarik can slowly force himself to see his surroundings again. There are many wolves and Zelaks in the uniforms of Temple guards … and some of the voices are familiar. It would seem these are far more likely to be the genuine article. If not, the knight is in big trouble.

Jarik tries to make his way over to the inquisitor…

The unicorn still lies crumpled at the base of the shrine, a golden-furred cheetah stooped over him. She rises at the approach of Jarik, and at that of another Inquisitor – this one a poodle adorned in bright magenta and yellow-green robes, who looks about the room with an air that shows that he is certain of his command of the situation.

Jarik winces and holds his right shoulder. He says, "There's another one on the balcony, hurt but alive… "

Jarik keeps blinking, trying to clear his eyes.

"Oh dear," the poodle says, "Has the Arch Inquisitor Majoris come to a foul end?" He leers at the cheetah. "Hmm. Now, where will that leave you, child? Such tragedies all around." He turns toward Jarik. "Alive? Well then – " He snaps his fingers – which bear no gauntlets or gloves – and points toward the upper platform. At once, some wolves dash out of the chamber and away.

Jarik kneels beside the cheetah and the inquisitor.

The cheetah glares back at the poodle with dark eyes full of hatred and disgust. Not a word comes forth from her lips, however.

Jarik pays no attention to the poodle.

The Inquisitor Melchizedek, despite the poodle's assumptions, appears to be alive. He has taken a crack to the head, which has served to knock him unconscious.

Given more time, with all the bleeding, it would also seem quite enough to render him irrevocably dead as well.

Jarik pants, "I'm sorry, M'lady… I couldn't get here sooner."

The cheetah looks toward Jarik, then begins making a furious series of gestures with her hands while facing the poodle.

Jarik rips the sleeve off his right arm. "Gah!!!!" he screams when his right arm moves. The fox takes the cloth and tries to bandage the Inquisitor to stop the bleeding.

The poodle only laughs, and clasps her hands in his. "Now, now, none of this silly hand-waving of yours. Don't worry, I know what you're trying to say – Everything will be ALL RIGHT. Just fine now." He cringes at Jarik's scream. "Hmph. No need for such theatrics, really."

Jarik snarls to the poodle while trying to help the injured inquisitor, "I do NOT know who you are SIR! But, if you are not here to help, kindly SHUT UP and let me do my job!"

The wolf Lieutenant crouches down by the Inquisitor while the other secure the area. He gives Jarik the eye, but returns his attention to Melchizedek. "Let's get him out of here and fast."

Jarik looks to the Lieutenant, "I can't carry him… would you please… ?"

The poodle snorts. His expression is far from amused.

The Lieutenant waves over a couple of guards to assist him. They heft up the limp body of the unicorn, and haul him with haste out of the chamber.

Jarik follows the Inquisitor out of the chamber…

The poodle reaches out and grabs Jarik's shoulder. "Not so fast. The wolves will take care of Brother Melchizedek well enough."

"I don't think we've been formally introduced," the poodle growls. "So let me remedy that immediately. I am Arch Inquisitor Caesar Moffat. And YOU are one who is going to learn to hold his tongue very quickly. Am I making myself clear?"

Jarik winces and snarls. He turns toward the poodle eyes glowering with anger. His ears flatten, "Then I will attend to my injuries, sir. As clear as crystal, sir." He makes sure there's a minor inflection of disdain in his voice.

The poodle smiles. "Very good. You can glare as much as you like, but make for certain that your words are in line. Otherwise, you might just find yourself like the Savanite over there," he nods in the cheetah's direction, then adds with a whisper, "If your tongue causes you to stumble, then far better to tear it out than to corrupt you beyond redemption."

With that, the brightly-robed Inquisitor shoves Jarik away, toward the exit, while he strides further into the chamber to investigate the site of the melee.

Jarik's eyes narrow, "Understood, SIR."

Jarik motions to the cheetah, "Could I have your assistance for a moment M'lady?"

"Sir!" a wolf calls out from the balcony above. "This one's dead, too – He got that green … whatever it is."

Jarik stops and goes to retrieve his small dagger and the chitin sword.

The cheetah, standing to one side, nods to Jarik. She is a golden-furred cheetah, with deep green eyes, and a tumble of dark hair that contrasts with the white linens she wears – marred by stains of blood, though she shows no signs of any wounds sustained in the fight.

Jarik pats the cheetah and goes with her into the hallway.

Jarik slides down the wall onto the floor. He looks up at the cheetah, "Now M'lady… I'm going to need your help okay? Could you empty that pouch on my belt please?"

The cheetah blinks, but nods, taking up the pouch, holding it, with a questioning glance back to the fox.

Jarik says, "You'll find some silk thread and a needle in it… Get those ready would you?"

The cheetah nods, then her ears flatten as the realization hits her of what task she's expected to perform. Nonetheless she nods, readying the thread and needle as directed.

Jarik hands her his push dagger, "You need to carefully shave away the fur around the gash on my shoulder… "

The girl bites her lip and carefully and delicately does so. The crude-looking dagger proves to be surprisingly sharp, clearing away the fur in short order. She shakes bits of cut hair to the floor, careful not to let any get into the wound.

Jarik nods, "Well done M'lady. Now… carefully sew the gash shut with the thread. After each loop tie it off and cut it. Then begin again."

Jarik clenches his teeth in preparation…

The feline closes her eyes tightly for a bit, then nods again, let's out a long sigh, and surveys the wound. Gritting her teeth, she starts the first suture…

Jarik winces and his jaw clamps tighter but he remains still.

Though her demeanor would certainly indicate she does not do this on a regular basis, she proves herself ready to the task at hand. Several painful repetitions later, the last loop is tied off and cut.

Jarik smiles, "Well done M'lady. You could make a good doctor." He winks. "Now, there should be a small vial in the pouch. It's got a bit of ointment left in it. Please apply it to the outside of the gash."

The cheetah smiles weakly in response to Jarik's praise, and applies the ointment, evidently glad to be done with the 'sewing'.

Jarik nods his head, "Now M'lady… loosen my belt a bit, would you?"

The cheetah blinks a few times at Jarik. She eyes the fox suspiciously, but, as always, does as bidden.

Jarik lifts his right arm with his left and tucks it under the belt. His ears flatten and he grimaces.

Jarik pulls the belt tight again with his left hand. He's creatively immoblized his right arm.

The cheetah raises an eyebrow at the procedure, and then hastens to urge Jarik further along the corridor.

Jarik nods to the cheetah and pushes himself to his feet, "Now… shall we check on the Inquisitor?"

Handing the pouch back to Jarik, the cheetah leads him down the passageways with a pace that indicates that – as rarely visited as this place may be – she knows the way well.

Jarik tucks the pouch back into his belt along with his dagger. He sheaths the chitin sword in his scabbard, not a perfect fit of course, but it'll do.

Jarik follows the cheetah…

The ruinous passages give way to better kept – and lit – corridors. The cables and conduits are no longer dangling here and there, but the walls are back to their familiar, more refined look.

The cheetah leads Jarik to a closed doorway with a wolf guard on each side. One raises a hand to stop the cheetah, but the other seems to recognize her. Some words are exchanged between the wolves, and she's allowed in, with her vulpine warrior escort.

Jarik quietly follows…

Jarik surveys the room and remains quiet.

The cheetah, silent as ever, pauses to one side of the entrance, slinking back, making every effort to stay out of the way, though straining to see the table and its occupant.

Jarik finally speaks up, "Will he be okay?"

One of the priests glances up and catches sight of Jarik and his shoulder wound. "This is the officer's infirmary," he says scandalizedly. "You, Ensign, go down to the common infirmary if you want treatment!" The other priests mutter between themselves, applying unrecognizable salves to the Inquisitor's wounds.

Jarik says, "My shoulder is fine… Will the Inquisitor be okay?""

Unctuously the priest says, "He is in the hands of the First Ones. But his wounds, praise the Bridge, are not overly serious."

Jarik nods, "Thank you. I'd like to stay and keep watch until he awakens, if that's okay?"

There is a groan from amidst the priests. "Confound it – Has that intrusive ensign found his way even into here? Send him away at once!"

The unicorn lays his head back again, letting out a long, pained sigh.

"Absolutely not," the priest says with indignation. "What do you think this is, a waiting room? Some sort of lounge? You blaspheme with your presence here, Ensign."

The cheetah covers her mouth. Her ears blush. She tugs at Jarik, trying to lead him back out the door the way they came.

The priest lays down his surgical blade and moves toward Jarik, making shooing motions.

Jarik's ears flatten, but he holds in the words he was about to say. He simply turns and walks out.

The priest takes a censer from a rack and fills it. With a disgruntled look, the unctuous-looking ringtail begins swinging it back and forth to scent the area where the fox-knight stood. "Unwashed heathen," he mutters as he sways the censer on his way back to the Inquisitor.

The cheetah's head is bowed as she joins the fox back out in the corridor, passing the guards. Occasionally she glances at the knight, her eyes full of words to say, though she has no voice for them.

The smell of ammoniate cleansers billow out of the door as it seals shut behind them.

Jarik heads back to his room – his eyes straight ahead.

Just outside Jarik's room, he feels a touch on his shoulder – the good one – from the cheetah.

Jarik turns to look at the cheetah…

The cheetah clasps Jarik's free hand in both of hers, as she looks him in the eyes. She then lowers her gaze, bringing his hand up to her muzzle. She looks up at him again, then lets go.

The cheetah steps back and bows her head to the knight.

Jarik smiles at the cheetah and nods.

Jarik looks at her, "M'lady… why do you serve them?" He knows he won't get an answer…

The cheetah frowns faintly in return, then averts her gaze and strides on down the corridor, leaving Jarik alone at the door to his quarters.

Jarik shakes his head slightly and enters his quarters.

Jarik tears off the rest of his shirt. He goes to the window and looks out over the city. The light from the sun falls on his form. His fur, dark burgundy in contrast with ivory, shines. Patches of it don't lay quite right, possibly hiding old scars. The fox takes a deep breath and sighs. He places his good hand on the window frame and bows his head. "Why," he whispers, "Why can't they see? Why can't they understand? Nobility is not a title, but a strength of character?" His eyes close and he just stands there, sunlight falling on his form.