Zoltan jerks upwards. "No… NO!" He whirls around, half-buried in sludge, as squirming black worms snap with every movement. He addresses a phantom only he can see. "You're a lie … aren't you? None of this is real… It's just some Dagh horrible nightmare of a LIE!!"

In the chamber of the Progenitor, a black Korv hacks his way with two blades through tangling black tendrils, hacking up every broken chunk of the shuddering and dying Progenitor that he can. Red goo flows out of the room, evaporating into mist. Numerous prone forms lie about, entangled in snaking black threads that look like veins from the brain of the horrible monster. Wynona's ears are visible, the rest of her body submerged in the mess. Several black tendrils still cling to Zoltan's body, but they have been hacked apart, and wiggle as they slowly die.

Zoltan begins to feel his stomach churn… he keeps himself together long enough to grab at Wynona and try to fish her out.

Wynona is light, and the tendrils holding her down snap easily against the strength of the Vartan. The snaking tentacles protrude into her ears, nose, and appear to be trying for her eyes as well. She is most certainly unconscious, though she's starting to squirm.

"You!" shouts a female human up on a platform where the bug-ship is sitting. "You're ALIVE! Get on up here! The whole army is going to be upon us any moment now!" The snake looks like he's trying to figure out the controls of the bugship, but only managing to get the thing to hop up and down so far. Two cheetahs are free as well, but the others must be somewhere in the muck.

"It isn't… a lie… to ME!" The Korv's cries are timed which each whack and slash of his sabres, bits and chunks flying in random directions as he hews a path almost methodically toward a small black organ at the center of the mass. He doesn't even seem to realize he's speaking Vartan. "And to… the Progenitor … this sword … is very … REAL!" The sword in question finds its mark squarely in the center of the black organ thing.

The body of the Progenitor makes a violent shudder that sends the Korv flying backward as he cleaves the black organ. The black tendrils about the room start lashing about for a second or two … then shudder and collapse.

Zoltan pulls himself up and holds Wynona in his arms. He checks himself and looks around for his weapons … and any cheetahs that might be poking out of the muck. "You saved me, Kensington."

The Vartan's keen eyes manage to pick out strategic clusters of shuddering and dying black tendrils … which prove to be a good means of locating submerged victims. The three cheetahs – still alive, apparently – are among them. One of them is bleeding fairly badly, though – He might have been the one strapped into that bony bug-chair at the time of the explosion.

The gun-sword is poking out of the muck, goo dripping from its barrel. There is no sign of the rune-sword, alas, without some time-consuming searching.

Kensington picks himself up, holding his wings to either side as if too disgusted at the goop to want to be near himself. "Ye kin thank Doctor Shreega, Zoltan," coughs the Korv, a little unsteadily. His accent seems to be slowly returning. "Let's get e'eryone inta th' Plaguebringer. I kin tells 'em 'ow ta work it, I thinks."

"Well, THAT'S welcome! Get up IN here!" exclaims the human, still using accented Rephidim Standard. She obviously understands Vartan, but doesn't bother to try speaking it.

The Vartan nods quietly and takes up the sword, holstering it to his belt. He starts fishing out the cheetahs and helping to carry them to the bugship. "I know a little bit about healing; I think I can help the wounded one."

The corsair nods numbly, and makes his way up to the insectoid craft, sheathing his swords with a "schlork" noise in their scabbards, and making a mental note to clean them later. He lets himself into the 'cockpit' alongside the pilot.

Outside of the torn door-membrane, several bug-ships can be seen, rushing toward the palace. The wounded are loaded onto the craft. The two cheetahs are armed with bug-guns liberated from guards who won't be needing them anymore. The human jabs at one of the guards with the mantis-pike she has. There's no way the dead guard could feel it, and it makes no response. She then throws some miscellaneous junk into the bugship and clambers back in.

Zoltan tries to clean the tendrils off of Wynona and then pulls some healing supplies out of his pack. He finds a seat in the bugship and starts to work. "I should have known it was all a lie. It was too good to be true … all of it."

The tail of the bug-craft seals up. One of the conscious cheetahs wiggles a sign to the Naga, who reports, "Ready back here."

Wynona coughs, spitting up a piece of dead tendril. "Wha … my … Where did it go? My spell!"

The Korv's gravelly voice can be heard from the cockpit. "Ye use this 'ere lever t'adjust yer altitude … an when yer tipped forward, goin' up means ye'll go forward, right? Oh, just get out o' me way."

The Korv now has the controls. The Naga pilot will get over it. The Green Lancer hisses, "You sssure about that?"

"Kensington … you … uh … " The Vartan looks at Wynona and then back to the Korv. "I thought you didn't speak Vartan."

Zoltan pauses in his work to take Wynona up in his arms and just hug her tightly for a long moment. He sobs quietly on her shoulder.

Kensington slides some of the levers up to a slight height, then presses the stick to the right to rotate the craft. Raising the altitude levers again, he aims for the torn door membrane. "I don't, that I recall," replies the corvid. "I also don't know anything about Titan piloting, decryption of Imperial starship messages, Savanite Sign, Jupani, or Eeee." He shakes his head. "If that makes any sense."

Wynona's eyes open. "Zoltan? Oh! What happened? I … No … NO! It's not FAIR! NOOO!" She breaks down into sobs as well.

The bug-ship rises from the platform … though a bit clumsily, nearly clipping its wings on the ceiling. If Kensington knows how to fly this craft, he's still a bit rusty. Or he's learning really fast. The huge insect narrowly passes through the membrane, bumping into one of the torn flaps on the way out, but its wings survive the impact, and it's free. Free of the palace, anyway. The rest of the city might pose a problem.

"It makes sense to me… We'll talk more about it when we get away." The Vartan manages to pull himself together a bit and sniffs sharply. "When we fly out, head northwest… That's where Herbir is going." He looks to the other passengers. "Are you all with the Knights?"

"Aye, Cap'n," rasps the Korv… though he sounds slightly distracted by fine-tuning his control, in whatever capacity he can.

The woman says, "We're allies by necessity." She smiles, and extends a hand. "Riddle Smith's the name."

Wynona wails, "Zoltan defeated the monster, and he got to go into this marvelous time machine, and then they showed me this place where magic worked on Abaddon, only more powerful than on Sinai … and … I was able to tap into all these hidden mysteries and all sorts of wonderful powers and … " She whimpers. "It was wonderful… "

Zoltan shakes the human's hand. "Zoltanos Cambio, but you can call me Zoltan. I'm a friend of the Knights on Rephidim. I couldn't stand and watch you all get murdered. You can thank the Champion of Shadows for most of it, though… It was his weapon that I used."

The chitinous compartment that the passengers are in has translucent sections of its shell that serve as windows, though they aren't clearly defined by frames. Outside is a city in chaos. Insectoid machines are exploding or going berserk. The multi-armed bug-like workers are running through crowds, wielding harvesting equipment, with horrible results. Some of the insectoid structures are collapsing, crashing into each other. Most of this seems to be restricted to stationary rather than mobile insectoid machines – such as the bugship that Kensington currently pilots through the confusion.

"The Champion of Shadows, eh?" responds the human. "Well, can't say as I'm acquainted. I've had to take a crash course in Knight lore as of late, since the truce fell apart."

Said pilot keeps an eye out for any breaches in the dome, or doors that could possibly act as escape routes for the insectoid vehicle.

A few exploding and collapsing structures have created rifts in the dome … The closest one requires flying through a greenish cloud of who-knows-what, but the bug craft seems to be fairly well-sealed from the outside.

"I'm sorry, Wynona. He made me see my father… We cried on each other and got to talk about everything. It was so nice … then I heard Kensington's voice." Zoltan looks at the Korv pilot and then back to the bat. "It looks like you got zapped with the language as well." He ponders. "Riddle, can we get to Herbir's army in this ship?"

Riddle shakes her head. "I don't think so. Bug-tech doesn't have much range. They eat a lot. And we're not going to find enough to keep this thing well-fed for a full journey to the next Life Dome. Not unless we can hitch a ride."

The Naga hisses, "If we're headed for Herbir'sss army, we'll run into sssomeone along the way." He pauses a bit, then continues without the hiss, "As likely friend as foe."

Zoltan goes back to work on the bleeding Savanite. "I don't know about transportation on this planet … but anything that we can do to get there before he does much harm, I'm willing to do." He smiles, although it looks forced. "Just don't tell me that I have to use any Great Editors." He turns to look to the Naga, "There is some armor in my bag. I need it repaired enough to wear it. If I'm going to face Herbir then I'll need it. I know I'm no Knight, and I'm willing to go through whatever ceremony is necessary … but it's important that it's wearable by the time I find Herbir."

The Naga hisses, "I would be glad to help, if we can find sssome materialsss. I, alasss, have been deprived of my own armor and my sssuppliesss."

Kensington steers for the nearest exit, deciding that remaining in the dome any longer than he has to is too dangerous to risk. He half listens to the conversation going on behind him, nodding to himself every so often.

The view outside is briefly obscured by a green haze, and a shadow of something big and insectoid hurtles by, out of control … but the bug-ship manages to fly past it without incident. The green haze gives away, and the insect flier is making its way across the red desert once more.

"Bearin' northwest," caws the corsair. "… Probably."

"At the very least, I've seen the innards of these bugs used for all sorts of things; if it comes down to it perhaps we could use the ship for parts." The hippogryph gives Wynona another pat. "Are there any other places out here we could stop at? Sanctuaries for the Knights or the Savanites or… " He looks to the human.

"Savanites?" The human says that word with the sort of pronunciation that suggests it has never been on her tongue before. She shakes her head. "Nothing friendly out this way. This is Confederate territory."

Zoltan moves closer to the front of the ship and pulls the visor out of his bag. He sticks it over his face and peers out the window.

The Naga flicks his tongue. "I can't help but find the usage of the innards of this beast to repair armor as … inappropriate. But I'll see what I can do."

The Korv's voice comes from the cockpit again. "Looks like we 'ave an airship in our tack. Elongated envelope, quite a ways off, off our bow."

"Fly left more, that way." The hippogryph points towards a spot in the distance. "Airship? Hmmm… maybe we can hitch a ride on that."

"Anyone recognize it?" rasps Kensington, adjusting his course per Zoltan's directions. "Friend or foe?"

The human tries to get a good look over the snake's shoulders. At last, she says, "I can't make it out this far. With any luck, it's an Expedition craft. Either that, or it's a Silent-Ones Titan-Carrier. Looks big enough. It's not Confederate. But they might get jumpy when they see our bug."

Zoltan raises his visor and squints at the airship… trying to make out any markings. "Well, if it can make it to Herbir… it's worth investigating."

The Naga hisses, "Definitely not Imperial or of the Order."

As the bugship makes its way closer to the slower-moving zeppelin, its form is more readily apparent. It looks like one of the airships of Sinai, but with significant changes. For instance, the undercarriage doesn't look seaworthy, being an elongated structure that is snug up against the bottom of the envelope, with railed walkways providing access around the outside. It has no sails, but there are air-props … far larger and spinning more swiftly than any slave-powered airship on Sinai … and it looks like it would be hard to find the room for that many slaves (an army of them, surely) in the bottom of the undercarriage anyway.

"Heyyyy… I seen these things afore!" remarks Kensington. "Nothin' brain-bug caused. Just silly stories when I were a young nipper. Always thought th' word 'Zeppelin' twas too silly t'exist, but 'ere she is in front o' us."

As the bug-ship moves into a better position, an emblem can be seen on the side of the zeppelin. It looks like the Star and Anchor, or a close variant thereof.

The Star, however, has two vertical bars instead of one, making it not really look so much like a Star anymore – except by the viewer's familiarity with the original symbol.

"Do a wave," instructs the human. "Let them know we're friendly. They may think we're refugees, if they can see the destruction of the Life Dome from here, until we can explain."

"What symbol is that? It looks like the Temple's … but it's … different." Zoltan scratches the back of his head.

"Temple? That's the Expedition," smiles the human. "My kind. And friends."

Kensington swings the ship to a parallel bearing, and tips the bug from side to side a few times, keeping his course at an even distance.

Wynona squeaks, being the lightest of the bunch – and not understanding the human's instructions enough to know to grab something in preparation. No harm done, though. Some lights flash from the bridge of the zeppelin, from a mirror-signaller.

Zoltan nods and steps back to let the Korv pilot. He rubs his head again, and then looks back over to the Air Mage. "Say something in Eeee, Wynona. I curious about somethings."

Wynona squeaks something in Eeee.

The Vartan laughs. "Kensington … can you say something in Bosch?"

The human rubs a finger in her ear. "I hope it isn't as high-pitched."

The Korv reflexively squeaks something in return. He looks rather surprised at the noise he just made, when he actually hears it. He nods at Zoltan, and speaks a few harsh sounding words.

Wynona squeak-giggles. "He knows Eeee! But I don't know that other stuff."

The Naga hisses, "Do you have anything shiny?" He seems to be directing this more to the Vartan than anyone else. "Reflective, that is. A mirror would be nice."

"Hmmm… I don't understand Bosch I guess. I'd try some handsign out on you but we're all a bit busy hanging on for the moment." He looks at the Naga, "Shiny? Here… I have a piece of crystal that might do the trick." Zoltan untangles a chunk of crystal from his tail and tosses it to the snake.

The snake nods. "Thanks." He seems to be repressing his hiss better now, perhaps having reverted during the stress of the previous adventure. He gets some help from Kensington and pops open a hatch enough to stick a hand out and reflect light with the strange crystal. More flashing lights come in response from the ship. "I'm explaining our situation," the Naga says. "I think we can negotiate a ride. Especially if Miss Smith puts in a good word for us."

Zoltan chuckles. "I'm beginning to think that all your languages are deliberately set up to be unfair to Vartans. I don't have enough fingers to do handsign properly, I can't get my voice high enough to squeak, and I don't have the right kind of face to speak Standard like a no-beak." He looks over to the human, "Are you an Inquisitor or something?"

"A ride'd be nice," rasps the Korv. "I dunno how long me brain can holds all this stuff."

"Inquisitor?" laughs the human. "No, that's the Silent-Ones. I'm just an ambassador who was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the Confederates struck."

The Naga nods to the Korv pilot, and continues flashing signals to the zeppelin. Some minutes later, the bug ship is drawn into a bay on the sizeable zeppelin, parked next to some gliders, and the crew of the bug-ship are taken into the undercarriage of the airship. Most of the crew of the bug-ship are given an exam in the small med room on the ship … and relieved of remaining black tendrils. The three wounded cheetahs stay in the medical bay, along with Wynona, who seems to be in need of recuperation moreso than her Sinai companions.

The snake, incidentally, gives Zoltan his crystal back.

On the bridge of the zeppelin, Zoltan and Kensington are greeted by the ship's captain, a gray-beared human dressed in a uniform that looks much like that worn by airship captains on Sinai.

Riddle is wearing more formal attire, and a mixture of human and Jupani officers tend to the control of the ship. Her curly red hair is now done up in a bun.

"Welcome on board the South Star," says the captain, in the same accented Rephidim Standard used by the red-haired-female. "I'm Captain Tremaine. And you've already met Ambassador Smith."

Kensington holds himself commandingly, despite his short stature. At least he's not quite so covered with gore anymore. "Captain St. Germain. Err… ye kin calls me Kensington, though. 'Cause it'd sound silly iffen me name rhymed wit' yers alla time."

"Thank you for rescue, Captain," Zoltan scrawks, reverting to Standard. "I dearly hopes you on you way to the Himar Pit? We needs a ride there."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are," says the Captain, his expression turning a bit more serious. "It's a mad grab for the Pit, truth be told. We're heading in to pick up our scout team – if we can reach them in time – until the dust settles."

Riddle puts in, "The truce fell apart, with accusations on all sides. We've managed to patch things up with the Knights and the Silent-Ones for now. But we have … misunderstandings as yet unresolved with the Empire and the Confederacy. And we imagine the rest will show up for the party eventually, too. The Pit has been here for a few months, but I guess now is the time to decide whose it is."

The corsair moves around the bridge, unable to contain his curiosity. "Well, looks like we all be goin' in th' same direction, Zoltan," he says as he inspects the place, peering at crewman and their posts alike. "We goin' flank speed? We might gets a few hands thur faster wi' th' Plaguebringer, iffen nothin' in it's broke."

"Yes … Confederates on Sinai mention a truce." The Vartan puts a weary hand to his head. "Riddle… what happen to this planet? I saw what looks like a Knight temple, and eveything alive in its was erased. I starting to wonder if it not deliberately done to this whole planets."

The captain says, "We're going full steam ahead. We can't match your craft's speed, but it looks like a short-range vehicle. I think we have enough stores to keep it fed until it goes dormant for the trip."

Riddle looks to Zoltan. "I have a lot to learn about your planet as well. If I am not making too many presumptions about your world, I believe it is safe to say that Abaddon was once in many ways like your own. But if it was, it was before our ancestors came here. Legends say that the Life Domes are from the great zeppelins that carried us here from the stars, and that they allowed us to survive here. The Imperials can't even bear to go outside without special thermal suits at night."

Kensington nods at Captain Tremaine, then falls to listening to Zoltan. To the captain, he caws, "Huh… yer scouts went to the Himar pit? Were theys in Titans? Some things I gots pieced t'gether… memories what ain't mine. I just don't knows 'ow long ago they was.""

The captain replies to Kensington, "Well, we don't use Titans. The Silent-Ones insist on those, though they are a waste of effort to maintain on the open plains, I say. Now, the canals, they're another matter … but I digress. Our scouting expedition is currently holed up at the Winged Citadel on the edge of the Pit. It never was in the middle of contested ground before, so it's not really fortified to stand up against the Confederates, Imperials and whomever else comes that way."

Zoltan hugs his arms around himself. "Why is pit so importants? Is it because they fertile land theres?"

The Korv rubs his beak thoughtfully. "Well, I knows Titans don't work innit."

Riddle nods. "Yes. It's larger than any of the Life Domes. Machines don't work as well there … but the Confederates' insect-craft work just fine there. The Imperials are effectively confined to the Life Domes, so they're desperate to expand as well." She nods to Kensington. "Titans start working badly even near the Pit, I've heard. That's made matters even more difficult at the Winged Citadel."

The Captain corrects, "Well, not ALL of the Confederate technology works perfectly there. The more bug, and the less machine, the better."

Tapping a hoof, Zoltan ponders a bit more. "I wonders if thing that brought Himar here would send it back again… but you probably no gots any boomers. How long until we close enough to meet up with Herbir's army?"

"May be a few days," the Captain ponders. "They're going to hit opposition before we do, and that's bound to slow them down. Hopefully enough for us to catch up before it's too late."

The Captain says, "In any case … I'm pretty certain that the technology to send the Pit back to your world is beyond us. I find it pretty unsettling to know that such technology exists on your world."

The Vartan shakes his head. "Was an exile weapon. It was taken out of big metal bird, same place I gots this." Zoltan pats the revolver at his side.

Kensington waves a wing dismissively. "Eh, t'isnt so bad once ye get used to it, Cap'n. There's great drippin' boatloads o' stuff I don'ts unnerstand on Sinai."

The Captain says, "Exile? 'Metal bird,' eh? Anyway, lest you get any ideas otherwise, we don't know every last bit of our own world, either. We know that there is a great frontier out there … but the land is fertile only in the Life Domes and in some places in the Canals. And in the latter, there are too many hazards to make them worth the trouble for any sizeable settlement. For all we know, there may be entire nations elsewhere on the globe … but we haven't the resources to explore the vast expanse."

"Imperial Carrier to starboard!" barks one of the Jupani crewmen, looking through a spyscope. "Looks like they've got a full wing deck. … But it looks like they're headed back for the Confederate Life Dome."

"Exile, people who no from Sinai… although after whats I see I starting to wonder if any of people from Sinai was there to begin with." The Vartan bristles at the noise and looks down at Kensington. "You goings to have to tell me what happen to you when Progenitor go gish, I thinks."

The Captain nods to the Vartan, then looks over at the speck which is an "Imperial Carrier" in the distance, borrowing the spyscope. "I guess our friends were headed for the Pit, but caught wind along the way of easier pickings. You must have done quite a number on the Confederacy. They just might not recover from this."

"Aye, I'll relates what I kin remembers." Kensington leans toward Zoltan, counting on his fingers and whispering, "And maybe ye can straighten all these groups out. We gots th' Confederates, th' Imperials, th' Silent-Ones … anyone I'm missin'? Who're the bug-people, who're the knights, an' who's left?"

"I make they big bug head person in tower blow ups." Zoltan scrawks to the Captain, shrugging his shoulders. "Confederates are fliers, Imperials… I think they the Naga, Silent-Ones is the Savanites … and … hrrr… rest I gots no ideas."

Riddle says, "So, you mean to say that you have visitors from other worlds on a regular basis? And … well, as for your questions … the 'bug-people' would be the Confederates. They've mastered life-technology in a way we haven't dared try to replicate. The Knights are a group formed long ago in a time of relative peace, with members from all the peoples … but that never worked out quite as well as planned. Especially when most of them headed off to Sinai and never came back."

The Captain says, "Maybe the Knights are their Exiles, Riddle?"

"From what I knows about Exiles… most Knights would be very insulted if you call they one. Exiles come from other places and always make trouble. Exile fox kill our Astromancer few years back and he only now gets replaced," the Vartan scrawks.

Kensington nods slowly, somewhat distantly. "We got knights on Sinai. Life technology… like their Progenitor. An' the Overseer… 'e was an Eeee… They had minds in that thing. All sorts of 'em. Went too fast." The Korv seems pretty detached, but snaps back to the here and now.

Kensington caws, "Ye 'ave a kid in the seat now, dontcha Zoltan?"

"Yah. Astromancer Archelaus." Zoltan points to Riddle. "He gots red hair like you. Maybe you related."

Zoltan nervously puts a hand on Kensington's shoulder. "You alrights?"

Riddle smirks. "As for the Knights being insulted … they are pretty easily offended. They were originally formed as some high and mighty – but well-intentioned, I'm sure – attempt to form a peacekeeping force. Alas, its autonomy, which prevented it from being crippled by politics, also broke off its ties to the peoples it was meant to protect. They went from just enforcing rules to deciding upon new rules that ought to be enforced. And … " Riddle smiles. "Red hair? Well, you never know." She gives Kensington a concerned look.

"Uh… aye… " The Korv rubs his head. "I think so. Just… rememberin' things."

The Vartan keeps his gentle grip on the Korv's shoulder. "Is they a place where we can rest? Maybe get some food … hrr … and if it possible, I likes to gets our weapons seen to; we maybe going to be using them lots soon. I hope I still gots enough bullets left."

The Imperial air carrier is passed by. A few flying shapes can be seen flying in formation, much closer, but still keeping pace with the carrier. They look like mechanical bird-machines, but their wings do not flap. Instead of one set of wings, they have two or three pairs of wings stacked on top of each other.

"Certainly," says the Captain. "We aren't quite prepared for guests, but we have some spare bunks the crew can share with you. And we'll see if we have any ammunition that will work with your guns. I can't be sure, seeing as you're from another world and all."

"Aye, I need t'clean me sabres up," rasps the Korv. He looks out the window, then stares, marvelling at the fliers that don't need to flap their wings. "Urr… they on yer side, Cap'n?"

"So is my gun," Zoltan says. He whistles at the sight of the flying machines. "That sort of what big bird on Paradys look like, except it only gots two wings. I not know something like that would ever actuallies fly."

"No," answers the Captain to Kensington's question, "but they're headed for more valuable prey. Not to worry. Not just yet. We'll let you know when there's anything going on. You should get some rest. We're sure to have a wild time ahead of us, once we get to the Pit."

Riddle smiles and says to Zoltan, "Yes, they actually fly. The Imperials use some sort of alcohol mix to power their craft. They haven't shared the secrets to their fuel with us. All we know is that their pilots drink a lot of it, so that rules out a lot of the possible ingredients."

It takes Kensington a moment to take his eyes from the window, but eventually, he bobs his head. "I could use some rest … anna parchment an' quill. I should writes down some o' th' things I saw… What kinda Cap'n would I be iffen I didn't keep a journal?"

Zoltan laughs! "So they gets big metal birds so drunk they think they able to fly!" He glances down at the Korv, "I gots paper. Been writing letters to cubs."

"Sounds like a good notion, 'tis," declares the Korv. "I could use some o' that metalbird fuel meself… " He stretches, and rubs at his aching limbs.

The two avians head out of the bridge, shown their room by one of the Jupani deckhands. It's a little more uncomfortable for the large Vartan than for the Korv, but it'll do. It certainly should provide a better bed (and hopefully better dreams) than a pool of Progenitor brain goop.