Garone Machkat, a tall, thin canine with the incongruously flattened face of a bulldog, moves through the streets, his bearing tense and alert. He carefully displays neither fear nor swagger, projecting the cultivated Darkside image of: Not worth the trouble. It appears to work – or, at the least, no one gives him any.

Some minutes after Machkat has vanished down a bend in the street, a Jupani and a Gallah emerge into view. The Gallah crouches to keep his nose near the road, sniffing intently. His lupine companion walks beside him with a confident swagger, dressed in leather flecked by chitin and steel studs.

A Kavi child dressed in rags squats in the road alone, playing some game, rules known only to himself, with a handful of pebbles and two sticks. Every now and again, he looks up furtively, glancing around. When he spots the two newcomers, his eyes go wide, and he scoops up his rocks and twigs, scurrying away.

Piper pauses for a moment to sneeze some dust from his nostrils. He watches the Kavi run and winces to himself. "Messieur Torn-Ear, what will we do when we find where he has gone?"

The wolf frowns at the fleeing boy. "You'll tell your friend, Pipe. 's all," he answers easily.

"I think we should try another route, Messieur. Some road that will wind us around… Perhaps we only frightened the child, but Messieur Machkat seemed to not have done likewise on his trip through, and if he is the protector of this place… " The Gallah lets out an unsure whimper. "I do not wish to end up at the bottom of a hole like Mam'selle Kassie."

Torn-Ear nods, a brief smile lighting and vanishing on his muzzle. "Yeah." He glances around, then strides to one of the alleyways across the street. "This way."

Piper hesitantly follows, scrubbing some of the sewer smell from his nose with his sleeve. "Why are there gangs in Darkside, Messieur? Are they just groups of people who wish to protect themselves like packs or surrogate families… or is it something more than that?"

Clambering over piles of filth and trash, the wolf wrinkles his nose, then glances up to the sky, which is darkening noticeably as the sun drops lower on the horizon, and his expression deepens to a scowl. He seems distracted as he answers Piper, saying, "You gotta have friends, here. Someone who'll look out for you. Your life ain't worth squat otherwise. If there's more to it than that – I dunno." As they emerge into the brighter cross street, Torn-Ear leads his companion west again, saying more softly, "How ya wanna do this? You're the tracker."

Dropping to his hands and knees, the Gallah takes a few slow and deliberate sniffs from the ground to see if they're anywhere near linking back to the trail. "I just need to find Messieur's barraque, once I know where the vermite rests I will be finished. How soon until it is nightfall?"

"Maybe another fifteen, twenty minutes. Eh. At least you can still smell in the dark." The wolf doesn't look any happier, and Piper's examination of the street suggests their quarry hasn't passed anywhere near this particular avenue.

The Gallah's tail sways nervously. "I smell nothing here. We can either move onward and see if he can be scented further up or go back where we know there is a trail and risk problems. The latter is more reliable, but I am not a fighter, Messieur. The best I can do is run if a problem comes up."

"Rr-ight." The lupine crosses his arms over his chest. "Eh. Let's do some crisscrossing, and see if we can find it again. Not that we ain't conspicuous as Dagh anyway, but at least it'll be a bit less obvious what we're up to." He speaks quietly, glaring at a beggar who seems to be watching more closely than necessary, and the other quickly sidles off.

Piper nods, whining softly again. "I shall follow you then, Messieur." He licks his nose again and brushes some dust from his knees.

The sun has sunk from view when they locate the trail again – but they do find it, and Torn-Ear's nervousness sloughs off as Piper tracks their quarry once more. The scent of sewage and Gallah leads to the stoop of a squat stone tower in good repair.

The Gallah grins as the tower come into view. "I think we are close to the nest, Messieur." He lifts his nose into the air and takes a few deep sniffs, taking in the ambient smells around him.

Piper grins and licks his nose again, suddenly seeming very interested in the smell of a nearby wall. "We are ready to leave, Messieur."

Torn-Ear grins at Piper's words, stopping in the shadow of an adjacent building when Piper starts inspecting the tower. "Glad to hear it, Pipe. Let's go." He turns and strides purposefully down the street. As they walk away, he looks at the Procession stars glinting overhead. "Think your friend would be working this late?" he asks.

"I hope so, Messieur. Er… do you wish to come with me?" The Gallah peers up at the wolf.

"Naw. I think it'll be better if you go alone." The wolf's long strides eat up the ground. "You know how to get back there, right? To the tower and to the Kings' place?"

"I think so, although I am not all that familiar with the paths in Darkside. Would it be possible for you to draw me a map when we get to Black Rock?" Piper half-jogs to keep up with the taller wolf, looking very much like an eager puppy trying to keep up with an older sibling.

"Yeah, I can do that. Mark the path as we go now; least it'll be more straightforward getting out than it was getting here." The lupine turns left at the next intersection, heading west. "This is Wolf Road. You could take it all the way to our place if the road weren't blocked by the collapsed tower at Elm."

Piper digs in his belt and pulls out a pouch of smelly herbs that he sprinkles at the intersection. "Oui Messieur."

Torn-Ear glances to his companion, a little frown on his face at the other's actions, and then chuckles. "Heh. That your version of breadcrumbs?"

As they continue along the street, a dark figure slips from one of the alleys before them, turned so that his right hand is hidden by his body. "You're a long way from home turf, Shadow Wolf," the person, a Kavi, chitters.

"I get the feeling that if I drew an 'X' in the dirt every few feet that my markings would not be there when I – " he stops abruptly while his stomach apparently feels as though it's still moving. The Gallah presses in close against the wolf's side. "Messieur, we are just passing through. Please leave us be."

The wolf stops, too. "'sall right, Piper," he says. He looks at the Kavi appraisingly, eyeing him up and down. "No," the wolf replies, at length. "I don't think we're far from home, at all." His voice is calm and confident, though with a degree of menace in it that Piper does not normally hear. The lupine turns to put his back to the adjacent building, putting his profile to the strange Kavi so that he can look behind them while still keeping the ferret in view.

"Then you think wrong, wolf," a second Kavi says, this voice higher-pitched and female, coming from the street behind them. "What are you doing on King turf?"

Piper tries to draw a measure of confidence for his own from Torn-Ear's, which is probably the only thing keeping him from curling up into a ball or bolting. "Please, Mam'selle, it is my fault. I was hunting for vermites and strayed into your territory. There are members of your gang that can attest to this. Messieur here was only escorting me out."

Torn-Ear glances to his companion, then to the three other Kavis behind them. A fifth slips into view from a stoop across the street. He grins, baring sharp white teeth. "Yeah. He was just looking for pests." A faint trace of emphasis lingers on the last word.

The female Kavi chitters a laugh. "Is that so? The great Shadow Wolves reduced to mere ratters?"

"S'il vous plait, maitres aimables," The Gallah fights off the edge of a whimper in his voice. "Messieur was only keeping me from accidentally moving deeper into your lands, we are on our way out. I do not have many shekels left, but they are yours if you will let us pass in peace."

The wolf waits, seeming perfectly at ease, while Piper answers, then he makes his own reply. "Yeah. Didn't you know? We're real big on pest control." He rests his right hand casually on the hilt of his short sword. "Just a damned shame we ain't found any. Yet."

The five Kavis stand, watching the pair, not yet moving closer, as if considering. One of them reaches forward, and Torn-Ear snaps his head around to glare at him, and the ferret freezes. The female hisses, "Your friend knows you are far from home, 'Messieur' Torn-Ear."

Piper swallows, licking his nose and taking a deep whiff of the air, worried that there might be more Kavi hiding out of sight. "Messieur?" His hands worry at the bag in his hands.

The odors of the five Kavi around them are strong in the air: the female's scent tainted by anger, two of the others – the one that came from across the street, and one of the two next to the woman – stinking of fear, worse than Piper's own. At least the mongrel cannot place any other Kavi scents on the night breeze. "That can change," the wolf says, his voice even. "One way or another. Which way is it gonna be?" He looks around at the semi-circle of ferrets.

The Gallah focuses his attentions on the female, figuring her to be the most dangerous. He takes a deep breath and puffs himself up, trying to remember the stance he takeswhenever he's trying to cow a particularly vicious animal.

The female flicks her eyes over the two, noting Piper's more confrontational stance. She bares her own teeth in a snarl. "You will go. Now." The semi-circle parts on the far end, two of the Kavis moving aside so that their quarry can retreat.

"Sure thing, toots," Torn-Ear says, taking the opening with casual strides. "Been a pleasure talkin' with you."

Piper resists the urge to bolt and walks alongside his lupine companion. He keeps his eyes on the ring of Kavi, just on case one of them tries to throw something at Torn-Ear's back as he leaves.

The woman looks sorely tempted, but she does nothing, merely standing with her fingers twitching around the hilt of a knife. She chitters something to her companions, too soft and fast for Piper to distinguish, and they melt back into the shadows, one of them scurrying away down an alley.

"I did not understand her, Messieur, but I am betting that she told her friends to follow us to make sure we leave… or to stamp out my trail. We should probably leave quickly before it gets too dark," the Gallah whispers.

The wolf nods. "I think you said once you were good at running, Pipe?" he inquires, his pace exactly the same ground-eating strides he had taken before the encounter.

"Yes, Messieur, but will you be alright?" Piper rubs his nose again, self-consciously.

"Glad to hear it. I'll be fine, kid, don't you worry." He still projects the same aura of confidence he always has. "Get to your friend, and tell her whatever she does, she's gotta do it tonight." Torn-Ear looks to the Gallah. "Now. Run."

Piper nods, trying to mimic the wolf's air of confidence. "Oui, Messieur!" And with that he bolts full speed down the alley, doing his best to remember landmarks and recall his path as he goes along.

Piper jogs up to the steps of the Temple, with only the Procession and starlight to guide his way. His clothing is soaked from dunking his head in a rain barrel to keep from overheating and his tongue lolls out from his jaws. Still, there's a determination to his stride as he slows down to climb up the stone steps.

A pair of Zelak guards stand by the imposing doors at the top of the Temple, watching the canine's approach impassively. For all Piper knows, these might be the same ones that escorted him to see the Investigator earlier this morning – though so much has happened since then that the interview seems months ago. "The Temple is closed now, citizen," one clicks at him.

"I must speak to Investigator Faith, Messieur! It is most urgent, perhaps a matter of life and death!" the Gallah barks, wiping a few droplets of water from his head.

The insect warrior clicks again, watching the Gallah as if evaluating his intent. After a moment, he says, "The Investigator will be notified of your arrival, if she is still here. You are?" His companion raps one hand against the Temple door.

"Messieur Piper; I saw her earlier today," the Gallah replies.

An exchange of clicks is audible through the door for a few moments, then the guards resume their positions, impassive. Minutes trickle past. Water drips from one of Piper's floppy ears to puddle on the ground beside him.

The mutt wrings his clothing out and pauses to give a good shake so he won't drip on anything important while inside. ( Please be in! Please be in… )

At last, the door opens again, and a Zelak emerges. "Investigator Faith will see you. Follow me."

Piper practically howls with joy. "Magnifique! Gladly, Messieur." He smoothes his water-spiked fur down as best he can and follows after the Zelak.

The feline is staring at a blank piece of paper when the canine is escorted to her door again. She looks up at his arrival, blinking her eyes once or twice, her normally impassive expression marred by weariness. "Mr. Piper. What brings you here?"

"I have thought about what you have said, and I wish to bring you information that you may find useful, Madame Faith." The Gallah bows. "You are looking for a criminalnamed Messieur Garone Machkat, oui? He has taken over the Blood Kings, the gang that harassed the Black Rock owners. I know where you can find him in Darkside, but you must deal with him this very night."

The Khatta blinks a few more times. "Garone Machkat?" She tilts her head, then nods once. "Ah, yes." She studies Piper evenly. "Where is he? And how did you find this out?"

Piper takes a deep breath in. "Well, when I returned to the Black Rock, the Shadow Wolves were there at my request to help protect the owners from the Blood Kings. I expressed second thoughts and their leader told me of Messieur Machkat. Upon my request he took me to their headquarters where I saw Messieur with my own eyes and tracked him to his house. He has a tunnel in the sewers that he normally uses for access, but he was not able to use it and took the trip by foot."

"I see. So you know the whereabouts of both the Blood Kings and Mr. Machkat, or at least their usual abodes? Why do you believe it urgent that we act tonight?" Faith asks.

"Messieur Torn-Ear thought it was imperative. I think perhaps it may be because they may retaliate against the Shadow Wolves for trespassing on their lands, or on the Black Rock if any of them knew that the Shadow Wolves have been visiting it or that I live there. Or it may be that Messieur Machkat may get nervous about the disturbance and try to relocate soon. I am not too sure, but my mind comes up with lots of reasons, oui? Messieur Torn-Ear would not have said that it was not urgent if it was not so," the Gallah barks.

The Investigator nods. "In other words, they know you know. Am I correct in assuming that the residences for both Mr. Machkat and the Blood Kings are located in Darkside?"

"Oui, Madame. If you can show me a map, I can point out the locations, or lead you there myself." The Gallah's head bobs up and down, his ears flipping with the motion.

"You said you tracked Mr. Machkat to his house? Would you be able to track him again if he leaves it?" Faith asks. She turns to her filing cabinet and rifles through it, retrieving a map that she unfolds onto her bare desktop.

"Unless he does something to cover his trail or travels through one of the more foul parts of the sewer, I should be able to, oui." Piper leans over the map, trying to remember all the twists and turns he made on the trip.

"I see." She pauses while he looks at the map, then continues. "Here is my difficulty, Mr. Piper. Darkside is, as you well know, a dangerous place. It is, in point of fact, more dangerous for myself and other Temple functionaries, as we are seen as targets. If I bring a large enough force to intimidate the residents out of accosting us on our way to arrest Mr. Machkat, then Mr. Machkat will undoubtedly receive warning before we are able to apprehend him."

Piper stares at the map again. "Mam'selle … do you have a map of the sewers? Why not travel underground?"

Faith blinks a few more times. "Chiskcerclickixx," she says to the Zelak who escorted the Gallah down, "Find me a sewer map."

The sound of chitin-armored feet click along the passageway and slosh through the foot-high fluid lining the sewer tunnel as a large group of Zelaks moves uncomplainingly though it. Investigator Faith wears a mask across her nose and mouth to screen the stench, although how much good it does isn't clear. She carries a lantern and a pair of partially folded maps – one of the sewers, and one of the tunnels above ground. Although she was concerned that even the sewers might have hostile inhabitants, so far they haven't seen any. The group draws near to a manhole and a ladder, and the feline shines her light on it. "Mr. Piper, please verify our position," she says, as she has asked several times already in the trip.

The Gallah nods and clambers up the ladder, butting his head up against the cover to lift it enough to be able to peer out and get a good sniff around.

Piper's tail wags, smearing itself against some of the goo growing on the walls as he clambers back down. "We are almost there, Mam'selle. I left a few marking herbs along my path and can smell them quite clearly."

"I am glad to hear that." Faith checks her maps again, and then consults her compass. "There should be a tunnel on our right, soon… " She shines her lantern along the wall, and it hits a narrow passageway about three feet high and two wide, with sludge coming out of it. "Ugh." She checks her map again. "That … would appear to be it."

"Perhaps Messieur Machkat is shorter up close," Piper barks softly as he looks at the narrow passage. He studies the ground for signs of footprints.

"He may come from a different direction, too. The other end of this tunnel – " She gestures to the narrow one with the lantern. " – intersects with another main tunnel running beneath Jordan's Way. A pity we don't have any maps more current than this one, or more detailed." Piper can't make out any footprints other than his own along the maintenance walk in the main tunnel. The smaller tunnel has no access way, and any footprints would have been washed by the flow of sewage.

Piper's tail sways as he ponders. "I do not see any sign of Messieur using this route, and if we take the smaller tunnel and run into trouble, things may get bad with no room to flee … although crawling through there may shorten our time and cover our scent in case Messieur's nose is as good as mine."

Faith nods. "Not to mention that there is no guarantee that the other tunnels will be any larger. We'll use this one." She gives some commands to the Zelaks in what sounds like their own language, and the warriors fold themselves up and start crouching along the small passage. The Investigator watches them, a slight smile on her face.

"I hope Messieur Torn-Ear is alright." Piper kneels down to see how the bugs manage the trip. "Shall I go next or will you, Mam'selle?"

Sighing, Faith hikes up the edge of her robes and crouches into the tunnel. "I will."

The Gallah tries to lend the feline a hand on her way in, and then crouches down to follow after. He stares intently at the floor of the tunnel like a proper gentleman should.

After a few dozen feet, the tunnel roof rises, and the sidesbroaden, with another access way along it. A well-used ladder becomes visible ahead, hand and foot prints markedon it and along the access way beside it. "This must be the place." The Zelaks fan out around the ladder, as Faith approaches it.

Piper shakes a bit of the muck from his fur. "Oui. Unless Messieur had urgent reason to leave, he should still be there."

The Investigator nods grimly. "I'll go up first. Guards, be ready to follow at my signal." She ascends the ladder, making little noise.

The Gallah crouches down off to the side, sprinkling a little bit of vermite bait on the floor of the tunnel just in case a few extra hands are needed. "Soyez femme soigneuse et courageuse."

The feline follows the ladder through a hole in the tunnel roof, vanishing from sight. A few moments later, a few distinct clicking noises echo down, and the Zelaks ascend the ladder in a fashion which seems instinctively orderly. A couple of vermites emerge into the passage after the Zelaks vanish, headed for the bait.

Piper keeps one ear perked upward towards the chamber, listening for any scuffling noises. The Gallah idly feeds the rodents as he crouches in the sludge, occasionally making soft squeaking noises at the creatures.

More time passes, then Faith calls down, "Mr. Piper, please come up." Her voice is impassive as usual. When the Gallah obeys, he emerges from the floor into a sparsely furnished room, rug pushed to one side, along with a trap door. Faith stands near by. "Is this the correct building? No one is here, but there are several expensive items I believe to be stolen goods on the second floor. The Zelaks are completing the search now."

"Oui, his scent is very strong in here," the Gallah rubs his nose for emphasis. "But I do not know where he had gotten to. Perhaps he has gone to the Kavi hideout?"

The feline nods, rubbing at her own nose, though probably for different reasons. "I hope I'm not spending the rest of the night sloshing through sewers," she says, with some resignation. "Can you sniff out his trail from here?"

"I shall do my best, Mam'selle." The Gallah salutes and starts sniffing around the chamber, trying to locate the most recent trail he can.

After diligent examination of the crisscrossing scent-trails, of varying ages, Piper's best guess is that their quarry went back down into the sewer. The Zelaks descend once more; somewhat more reluctantly, so do the mammals.

Without any evidence to the contrary, Faith makes the presumption that Garone is headed for the Blood Kings' lair. The sewers cover almost all traces of Machkat's trail, but occasionally the Gallah catches a hint that the other canine may have passed here, lending some credence to the feline's presumption. After crawling through more narrow tunnels as well as wide ones, they find themselves nearing what they hope is the correct destination. The lead Zelak halts abruptly in his tracks, and the rest of them soon follow suit, hearing voices up ahead. "Dagh, I can't believe I'm huntin' vhai-riddled vermites! We shoulda hired that Dagh-bitten dog."

Piper taps the Investigator on the shoulder and points to himself. He taps his belt and makes a motion as though he's sprinkling something on the ground, and then makes a skittering motion with his hand as though something were crawling around.

Faith is shuttering her lantern to conceal the light from the voices, and gestures to the Zelaks, who do the same,when Piper makes his suggestion. She watches for a moment, then nods, pointing to where their current tunnel intersects with the one the Kavis are in.

The voices continue, apparently still oblivious. "Oh, shut up," a second voice mutters, equally grouchy, and Piper recognizes it as one of the Kavis he met earlier – Fang. "You haven't even gotten one yet. And I've had three. I've never seen the critters so bold!"

"I'm not catchin' any 'cause I'm using these herbs to keep 'em away. C'mon, this should be good enough. We haven't seen any in an hour. Let's go back in," the first complains. Sounds like Bite.

The Gallah starts sprinkling his bait on the floor, chirruping softly as he tries to mimic the sound of a gorging vermite.

It sounds like the Kavis are retreating, then Fang says, "Wait, hear that? There's another one."

"Oh, Dagh take it, Fang, just pretend you didn't… " A few genuine vermites emerge, squeaking as they head eagerly for the bait, and Bite seems to give up his protest. Splashing sounds echo down the side passage as the Kavis head their way, and the Zelaks use their noise to cover their own, the insect warriors positioning themselves to surround the dark tunnel entrance.

The Gallah flattens himself up against a wall as he tries to hide. He leaves the vermites to do the job on their own now.

Fang stoops downwards, a makeshift spear in one hand, to stab at one of the vermites, while Bite moves somewhat more cautiously – or squeamishly – forward. The Zelaks wait until both Kavis are in the passage, then seize them, aiming to cover their mouths first. Fang manages a distorted squeak before they muffle him, but the guards know their business, and in short order the pair is trussed with ropes, muzzled, and secured. "Leave them on the ledge for now," Faith orders, softly. "Let's go."

Piper grins and bows to the eating vermites before scooting after the group. "Merci," he whispers.

The vermites squeak contentedly back at him. The sewer entrance to the basement, here, appears to be an actual small door at the top of a make-shift set of stairs, as if someone had deliberately knocked a hole in the basement wall in order to gain access to the sewers. Cat-quiet, Faith sneaks to the top of the stairs, and beckons for her Zelaks to join her. When they are all in position, with crossbows at ready, she twists the knob and pushes the door open, silently.

Swallowing, the Gallah tenses himself for a ruckus.

"Bite? That you?" a Kavi voice calls on the other side, then a face pops into view, saying, "You gotta use the passw – ."

Faith lifts a finger to her lips as the mongoose falls silent at the sight of all the armed men. "Not a word," she whispers. "I am Investigator Faith with the Temple. If you have done nothing wrong, you will not be harmed."

The Kavi stares at her for a heartbeat, then shrieks out a piercing, modulated whistle, cut short as several crossbow bolts thunk into his chest. Faith shakes her head, quickly, and gestures to the Zelaks, who boil through the door, amidst confused cries of alarm and shouts of, "Halt! By order of the Temple!"

Piper flattens himself against a wall, he pulls out his own bow and notches an arrow to it, although the point shakes wildly and he's got a death grip on the tail of the arrow. At least it might make him look a bit intimidating if something unfriendly comes out of that hole.

Most of the fighting seems to be going on inside the room, and for several moments the sounds within are decidedly unpleasant. Judging by the caliber of the cries, the Zelaks are winning. Abruptly, a Kavi bolts through the basement opening, shooting past Piper as he waits pressed against the door – passing so close to the Gallah that he jostles the canine's arrow, still on the bow.

"Stop!" Piper barks at the Kavi, trying to bristle himself up to look bigger and tougher then he really is.

The smaller Kavi seems to have no intention of stopping, or doing anything except plunge madly away. His footsteps splash, echoing in the close tunnel, as he darts towards the intersecting one.

Piper's tail sways in thought, and finally he bolts after the Kavi, dropping his bow in the process. For all he knows the Kavi is going to warn Machkat, who might not even be in the tower … which will cause the whole mess with Black Rock to happen all over again.

The canine's practiced sprint and longer legs prove a good deal faster than the small mongoose, and the Gallah catches up to him just past the intersection, where the Kavi had turned left.

Piper leaps at the Kavi, trying to tackle him or trip him up. ( Ooooh … I hope Messieur doesn't have anything sharp, or doesn't bite too hard. )

The canine's leap falls short, though he does manage to grab the hem of the Kavi's tunic. The rest of his attention is absorbed with not tripping himself, and the mongoose whirls and snarls, a knife flashing in his right hand. The handful of tunic tears off with the mongoose's motion.

The Gallah flails backwards at the sight of the knife. He dips his hand into his belt and pulls out a vial of the vermite bait, hurling it at the Kavi in retaliation.

The Kavi shies back reflexively from the projectile, and manages to trip over the bound form of Bite in the process. He goes down squealing, covered in gooey vermite attractant. From the direction of the Blood King lair, a voice calls out, "Mr. Piper?" echoing in the tunnel. A moment later, Faith's lantern shines across the corridor

"Here, Mam'selle!" Piper yelps, his voice abnormally shrill as he still eyes the knife warily.

"Mr. Machkat is – " She stops speaking as her lantern light shines on the toppled Kavi, who scrambles to his feet. "Halt, or die," she tells the mongoose, pointing her crossbow at him.

The Gallah scoots backwards against the sludge, still clutching the chunk of fabric. "Did you get him, Mam'selle?"

The mongoose appears to consider his options. He drops the knife. "Very good," she tells him. She jerks the crossbow back the way they came. "Now, back into the house with you." The mongoose wipes off his hands and does as he's told, while Faith says to Piper, "No, that's why I came to get you. I want you to tell me if he was here when we arrived, and fled. Claws-Ice is missing, too."

Piper shakes his fur out. "Oui, Mam'selle. And thank you for the rescue."

"Rescue? I thought you were winning." As is usual with the Investigator, her flat voice makes it impossible to tell if she is being sarcastic.

With all the Kavi scents mixed together in this room, it's hard for Piper to pick out the one he thought belonged to Claws-Ice, but his search is helped considerably when one of the Zelaks convinces a captive to produce one of the leader's spare shirts. After some sniffing around and comparing, Piper concludes that both Machkat and Claws-Ice had only just fled. He tracks them to an above-ground intersection, where the two trails split.

Piper sniffs at the ground. "I think Messieur Machkat is escaping back through the sewers, I do not know where Messieur Claws-Ice is going though. Could Messieur be going underground back to his home?"

"Neither of them will go back to the Blood Kings lair – too many of us there. Machkat might go back to his tower for his stuff, though." Faith instructs a pair of Zelaks to go back – above ground – to cover the tower. "Piper, track Machkat as best you can. We'll fan out and look for Claws on foot." She continues firing off orders to a rapidly dwindling number of guards, sending two of the fastest to accompany the tracking Gallah.

"Oui, Mam'selle. I may not be able to scent him in the sewers, but he probably leaves clear footprints. I shall do my best," he barks, heading towards the manhole.

The dog's quick, if increasingly weary, legs carry him through the streets with the two Zelaks following closely, and occasional whiffs from his nose confirm that their quarry was headed for the sewers again. He finds the gully where a sewer tunnel opens to the land, and spots boot prints in the mud at its bottom. The three jump in and sprint down the wide tunnel, the Zelaks shining their lanterns forward. The light reflects off a distant moving form, which soon disappears down a side tunnel.

The Gallah's tongue flops in his panting jowls with each step. "Ahead, messieurs. I see him!"

The Zelaks make clicking sounds which might be answers, and splash forward. Piper's legs start to ache from all the high-speed running he has done today, and the Gallah knows he will be hurting on the morrow.

Piper whimpers to himself at the protesting twinges from his legs, wishing he could stop and rub them for a moment. "I can see why you run so well, messieurs, you have legs of chitin!"

They round the bend, and one of the Zelaks fires off a bolt as the shadow of their target disappears into a smaller side tunnel. The shot goes wide, and the second Zelak shouts, "Halt!" – this command as ignored as all the previous ones. The first slows from his run to crank back the mechanism and reload. Piper and the other Zelak draw level with the small tunnel Machkat entered, and they can see the canine crawling through this narrow juncture. The Zelak levels his crossbow on the exposed rear of his crawling target. "Halt," he repeats, one last time, and the single word echoes in the cramped tunnel.

Piper covers his eyes. This is a shot that will probably hurt a great deal.

The trapped canine only scrambles a little faster, and the Zelak pulls the trigger. There's the soft thunk of a quarrel burying itself in flesh, and a pained whimper, but the scrambling sounds continue. The Zelak patiently cranks back his crossbow for another shot.

The Gallah puts his muzzle up to the lip of the tunnel, and he starts to make excited squeaking and chittering noises, like the alarm noise whenever a vermite nest is being invaded.

Machkat shudders, and in the dim light Piper can see the shaft of a quarrel quivering above his right thigh, and the right leg being dragged behind him. Then the canine drops from sight, with a muffled splash. He must have entered another cross-tunnel.

"He will run slower now that he is wounded, and the blood should make him easier to follow." The Gallah swallows and dives down the tunnel himself, squirming along the length as quickly as he can.

The first Zelak, having finished reloading his crossbow, catches up and crawls into the tunnel behind Piper, though the larger insect has a harder time moving through it than the Gallah does. In short order, Piper comes to the end of the narrow tunnel, and sees a drop of about seven feet into murky liquid. Down the length of the tunnel, the Gallah can smell the acrid, metallic odor of fresh blood, and hear Machkat grunting and splashing as he limps away, leaning against a wall.

"Messieur is in trouble. This is no place to have an open wound." He carefully eases himself out of the mouth of the tunnel, holding onto the lip of it to lower himself down into the pool as gently as possible. "Be careful, messieurs, it is a steep drop."

Despite the Gallah's precautions, he still ends up falling a couple of feet into the shallow, filthy liquid, but he catches himself adequately despite the protests of his legs. They cannot be protesting nearly as much as Machkat's, however. The younger canine straightens, following the scent of blood, while the two Zelaks drop into the tunnel beside him.

"This way, messieurs. I can smell him strongly through the sludge." The dog tries to keep from slipping in the liquid as he takes a deep breath and starts running after Machkat once again.

Within moments, the Gallah has drawn within a few feet of Machkat, who spins about to face the young dog, leaning his back against the wall, something shiny glinting in his right hand.

Piper freezes in his tracks. "Messieur, you would do good to surrender. You are in no condition to fight, and there are two Zelaks about to catch up with me holding crossbows." He straightens himself out, trying to give off some of Torn-Ear's casual yet commanding air.

The Zelaks click as they advance, though they stop in their tracks farther back than the Gallah. "Drop your weapon," they say together, as they lift their crossbows in unison.

The canine bares his teeth for a moment, then his finger twitches – and the knife falls into the sewer with a splash. "I surrender," he snarls.

Piper lets his breath out and takes a step back to allow the Zelaks to secure their prisoner. ( Sore legs or not, I am going to need a long rest in bed tomorrow after all of this. At least it is hopefully over now. )