A brown and white dog makes his way along the maintenance path, a bow slung over his shoulder. He breathes carefully through his mouth, although the air down here even tastes bad. It smells far worse.

Piper rubs his nose, as though breathing in the filth in the air somehow manages to physically soil his snout with each breath. He sneezes and then drops his head down against the stone path, sniffing for any hint of a vermite trail.

The scent that fills his nose is unbelievably foul and not in the least helpful, so intense that it is almost painful to have inhaled. Raw sewage overwhelms any traces there might be of vermite-odor.

The Gallah yelps and slaps his hands over his nose. "Dot goink do find dem dat way… " He sneezes again into his hands and rubs at his eyes to clear them. Finally the canine opts to try his hand at tracking with his eyes instead of his nose and begins scanning the ground for traces of paw tracks or hints at a nearby nest.

Apart from the Gallah, nothing alive seems to be moving, making this trip look as unpromising as the ones in the days before. His stomach rumbles unpleasantly. The sluggish flow of garbage moves past near his feet, filth lapping at his boots, and he looks down to see what's caused the change in the liquid's path. A few yards in front of him, something about a foot away from the maintenance path is interrupting the flow, forcing it around. It's an odd kind of dome shape with gunk-covered bits sticking up from it, approximately two feet long and a little narrower, and the highest bits rise perhaps a foot out of the sewage.

The dog draws out one of his arrows and hesitantly approaches the obstruction. "You're an interesting bit of trash. Perhaps the sewer swallowed a bit more than it could handle… " He gingerly prods at the thing with his arrow to see how firm it is. "If you happen to be edible though, I might not mind."

The arrow tinks against the side of the object, the sound like knocking against chitin or possibly bone, and it shifts slightly when prodded. With closer inspection, Piper can see that one of the shafts connected to the thing in the stream rests upon the pathway ledge, wedged in a crack between the stones.

Piper resists the urge to sniff at the tip of his arrow; this thing has been submerged in the sewers after all. He returns the arrow to its quiver and tries to grasp one of the protrusions sticking out from the thing, testing to see if he can use them to pull it out of the sewage.

The first protrusion he grasps is slippery with unknown slime, and creaks when he tugs at it, but seems fairly solid. Then it turns in his hand unexpectedly, revolving downwards, although most of the object remains still.

The dog scratches at one of his floppy ears as he ponders what to do with the thing. "Well, it's a slow day anyways – maybe I can sell whatever it is you are." He squats down and grasps at the protrusion again while trying to slip his hand underneath the thing and wedge it loose from the path so he can haul it out without damaging the thing too much.

It takes some effort, but after a few fits and starts, the mutt is able to pull the object out of the tide of filth, the bottom part making a sucking noise as it comes free. It has five protuberances emerging from the center chitin section, which is shaped a bit like a very large, chipped shovel. Two of the shafts are connected lengthwise to the chitin, parallel to each other. The other two stick from the base of the chitin piece, set a bit askance to each other, kind of like legs. The last – which had the moving piece – is also set in the base of the chitin piece, about on the same level with the two leg-like segments, but this one is a much larger shape, hard to make out beneath the layers of accumulated waste.

The Gallah tilts his head from one side to the other as he examines the thing. "You look like a bug that got loose from Little Babel! Er … except I think you might be missing a leg." He paws at the filth clinging to the thing and tries to clean it off as best he can.

As he wipes at the largest protuberance, the top section of it rotates again beneath his hand, placed in some kind of socket. It suddenly registers what the object must be – a wheelbarrow! It is currently upside-down, with its one wheel and two legs sticking up, and handles behind it.

Piper's tongue lolls out as he realizes what he's discovered. For a moment he imagines himself finding the motherload of vermite nests and using his discovery to cart hundreds of the things in for their respective bounties. The dog giggles to himself at the image and tries to flip the wheelbarrow over to see how well it works.

Further inspection reveals that the body of the device has a chunk missing from the lip, and the wheel no longer runs smoothly, its socket joint having become twisted to one side. One of the handles is also broken off, making it shorter than the other. All that said, however, it's still semi-serviceable, though presently a nuisance to steer. If the joint on the wheel could be straightened, it'd be quite handy for carting things about.

"Hmmm." The Gallah mutt's tail switches from side to side. If he leaves the thing here, it might get stolen or washed back into the stream. Best to see if he can push it along while he hunts for dinner. He grasps the slippery handles and slowly starts to push the wheelbarrow down the path, pausing every few steps to aim the thing back in the right direction. He glances at the stream of sewage as he creeps along to see if there might be hints of more treasures or perhaps the barrow's rightful owner.

With the wheelbarrow awkwardly ahead of him, he finally spies little cross-hatched marks in the grime. Vermite tracks! At last. The scratched indentations continue for a half-dozen yards down the tunnel, then make a right turn down an adjacent, narrower tunnel, whose mouth spills a stream of garbage into the main sewer.

As he spies the tracks, the canine grins from ear to ear. Maybe the wheelbarrow was some kind of sign! Maybe he'll find loads and loads of the things down the tunnel. He carefully parks his prize outside the smaller passageway lest it frighten his quarry and then follows after the tracks. His hands fumble to ready his bow.

The new tunnel narrows to only about four feet across, and has no ledge, forcing the mutt to stoop as he makes his way forward along it, and justifying his decision to leave the wheelbarrow behind, as it would block most of the tunnel. Fortunately, at least the sewage level lowers here, being only a few inches deep. Even more vermite tracks become visible in the dim light filtering through from the world above.

The dog licks his chops eagerly, his mind focused on the prospect of a full stomach tonight. He resists the urge to shake the clinging scent of muck and sewage from his fur, fearing that the sudden noise might frighten away any creatures that could be skittering around. He makes a few soft chirping noises, hoping to call one or two of the creatures out into the open.

There's no response apparent response to his call, though in the distance, he hears the skittering sound of vermite feet. As he sneaks forward, he can faintly see several vermites swarming over a mound of rubbish.

Piper squats down in the filthy water and looks around the chamber. If he shoots one he might risk scattering the others and only manage to catch one vermite, or he could charge in and try to grab as many of the creatures as he can. He studies the chamber for exits and the potential chances of being able to corner the creatures.

Closer inspection reveals that the chamber the vermites are in has only one other entrance – a nearly vertical shaft leading upwards. Vermites might be able to scurry up it, using accumulated junk for footholds, but would be more likely to bolt down the shaft in Piper's direction.

While he considers this, a low moan comes from the mound of rubbish. No vermite would make a sound like that.

The Gallah's ears perk at the noise. He whimpers softly and then charges forward into the tunnel, barking at the top of his lungs. Piper starts to kick and swipe at the vermites as he tries to clear them away from the garbage.

Vermites squeal and squeak indignation, and several are so intent on their "carrion" that Piper easily connects blows with them, their small bodies impacting against the walls with a sickening crunch. Most, however, have the sense to flee, soon leaving the canine alone with a few vermite corpses and whatever … or whoever … they had swarmed over.

Piper whimpers again … just a few shekels worth of vermites. But it is more than he's managed to find in the past few days. The Gallah reaches out and pokes at the form the creatures were swarming over. "Um … hello? Are you okay?"

The "mound of rubbish" proves not to be rubbish at all – though it looks as though someone had decided to throw it away. The pests had been chewing at the crumpled form of a living person. As Piper reaches out to it, he can make out long fur on a bedraggled tail, and the outline of one arm and leg, the other limbs curled beneath the torso. His poke elicits another pained whimper.

"Oh dear." The dog kneels down and tries to roll the person over. "Sir? Mam'selle? Can you hear me?" He glances up the shaft; perhaps they fell.

More whimpers emerge as the mutt rolls the body over. With the position shift, it becomes evident that the person is female. Slime drips from her head as she rotates it slowly from the prone position against the ground. One visible eye blinks at filth, while a foxish muzzle points toward the Gallah. "help… " The word can only just be heard.

To Piper's trained eye, traces of the fox's descent down the steep shaft can be clearly identified, though the steady drip of waste has been eroding at the path through encrusted gunk that she left. His quick glance suggests that an object her size had fallen quite some time ago – at least a couple of hours, but not more than a few days. Closer examination would probably let him narrow the time frame, if he chose.

"Yes mam'selle, right away." Piper grits his teeth and slides his arms underneath the vulpine and then slowly tries to lift her up – the bodies of the vermites have been completely forgotten despite the protests of his growling stomach. "I've got something I can carry you in at the mouth of the tunnel, but the walk up there will hurt a bit. Brace yourself, mam'selle." And with that he begins to carry the fox back towards the mouth of the tunnel.

Piper lifts the fox with little difficulty, as she's both small and light, weighing well under a hundred pounds. She proves an awkward burden, however, a completely dead weight apart from occasional ineffectual twitches in her limbs, and sporadic whimpering which confirms she yet lives. The narrow tunnel with its low ceiling compounds the difficulty of this task, as the mongrel takes crouching steps forward.

The dog whines to himself while his feet slowly scoot through the muck on the floor. He glances down at the vulpine in his arms as he inches forward, trying to judge whether she might be a noble who took a misstep or a mongrel like himself that might have been tossed into the sewers.

The way back to the main tunnel seems at least three or four times as long as the way in had. Each tiny cry from his burden accentuates the length of time the journey takes. In the dim light, and with all the filth covering her, the fox's station is difficult to ascertain. But she wears trousers and a loose blouse, both of coarse cloth, which suggests lowly origins. Eventually, they emerge into the main tunnel, sludge trickling forward around their feet. The wheelbarrow's outline can still be made out, resting where the mongrel left it.

Piper carefully places the fox into the wheelbarrow, testing to see if it will hold her weight or might hurt her further by shaking around on the loose wheel before he tries anything too complex.

The device seems sturdy enough to easily handle her weight, although she's considerably longer than its carrying section. While the off-center wheel makes steering difficult, it doesn't seem likely to jar her any more than carrying her did – probably less, provided he is careful in maneuvering it.

Nodding a bit, the Gallah proceeds to strip off his jacket and shirt, stuffing them inside the barrow to cushion the fox's ride. He shakes his fur out and then grasps the handles, and starts pushing his passenger towards the exit. "Mam'selle? Can you hear me? Do you have a name or know of a place I can take you?"

A few more whimpers emerge from the female as the mongrel finishes arranging her in the barrow. For a few moments after the mongrel's query, there is no answer. Finally, she whispers out something difficult to make out, "… k… k'sie… ," then, is still again.

"Kassie you said? I'm Piper, an exterminator out here in Rephidim. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." A hint of a nervous whine colors the Gallah's voice; he's more or less babbling just to keep his mind occupied as he pushes the wheelbarrow along.

She twitches, one hand scratching feebly for a second at the chitin beside her. "… v'mytsss… " escapes her lips, and an involuntary shudder passes through her frame, rattling the wheelbarrow, then she slumps again.

"They've scattered, Mam'selle." A regretful sounding whimper gets caught in the mongrel's throat. "We'll have you out of here soon enough; there's not been many vermites at all in the sewers lately. Lack of food I think, it might explain why… " He shakes his head. "I mean, just relax, Mam'selle Kassie, you're fine now. Did you fall?"

She breathes with some difficulty, air rasping as it passes in and out of her lungs. A feeble cough shakes her for a moment, and a little burbling noise comes from her mouth. "P'per," she says, a little more distinctly. "D'n't … fall. P'shed."

Piper yips sharply, his tail tucking itself between his legs. "That's not a very proper thing to do to a lady. Why were you pushed?"

Another whimper. "D'n't see. D'n't see … nyth'g." She sounds agitated, possibly frightened, although her words are so slurred it's difficult to discern much. Her head stirs, rolling to let her look around, and a sharp hiss escapes from her. "hurts… "

"You shouldn't try to move so much, Mam'selle. I'm no healer but I've been told that you might aggravate a wound or a broken bone by moving too much. I'll try to take you to a healer. Perhaps the doctor will let me do some work for them in lieu of a bill." Piper licks his nose worriedly. "Do you have any family I can notify? Where do you live?"

The fox subsides, possibly at Piper's directive, with her muzzle resting lengthwise against the back of the wheelbarrow. "k … c'n't… " Her breath rattles out in a long wheeze. Silence stretches, and the wheelbarrow rolls up to one of the ladders leading up to the surface.

Opting to abandon his prize for now, the Gallah starts to try to tie his shirt into a makeshift harness for the fox so he can carry her up a bit easier. "This will be the rough part; I shall try to climb out as easily as I can. You may need to hold onto me if you have any use of your arms." He begins to carefully hoist the fox out.

Clenching her jaw shut against the pain, the vixen tries to wrap her arms around the mongrel's neck as he shifts her to his back. One arm dangles somewhat loosely down his front, but the other secures a better grip. She's also able to grip his waist with one leg. The other she does not try to use, letting it hang limply down from her body.

The Gallah climbs up as smoothly as he can but tries not to dawdle; the lady might run out of strength quickly, after all. A soft growl trailing into a whine is all the noise he makes as he climbs up.

The climb towards the exit, just ten feet, lasts an eternity. At last, Piper knocks the manhole cover off and crawls into the light of day, the fox slumping against his body while he's still crouched on the ground, her limbs losing their grip and drooping nervelessly towards the ground.

Piper crawls out of the grating, raising his nose to the air and taking a deep breath of fresh air. He lies flat against the ground and moves to gently roll the fox from his back. "Half the battle won, Mam'selle. I'll have you to a healer's tent very soon."

They've emerged into a relatively quiet section of street on the outer fringes of the Bazaar. The bright sunlight blinds the mongrel for several moments, his eyes blinking rapidly while the pupils adjust again after the darkness of the tunnel. While his eyes adjust, he's able to shift her onto the ground with a little assistance from her.

The Gallah takes a moment to stretch his sore arms out before stooping down to lift up the fox again. "I'll have to carry you the rest of the way. If you were pushed we may be able to ask a Guard for assistance." He begins carrying the lady out into the street. "Perhaps one of them has access to a stretcher."

Now that he can see clearly, the extent of the damage suffered by the fox is more apparent. A raw, red wound gapes across much of her left arm, blood oozing from all across it, ripped edges of flesh and skin where the vermites were gnawing. Her lower right leg rests in a position which looks wrong, although it's not actually askew or otherwise clearly snapped.

The dog yelps at the sight of the damage and tries to press his shirt against the arm wound to staunch the bleeding a bit. He starts to break into a jog, barking loudly to attract attention.

People start turning to watch the barking mongrel trot through the streets, most of them frowning or looking alarmed, but no one moves forward to assist.

Along with Piper's loud barking, the smell of raw sewage drifts towards a blind fennec haggling with one of the merchants on the street, and under it, a strong current of blood.

Roho stops his haggling mid-barter, his nose snuffing in the direction of the blood. "I think we may have to continue this later… "

The vendor glances up the street when Roho pauses, saying, "Ugh, what's that?" as the mongrel approaches.

The Gallah pauses in his run, looking around at the ever-changing layout of the Bazaar. A pained howl escapes from his throat. "I'm sure there is a healer working around here somewhere. Just a moment, Mam'selle Kassie."

Roho grabs Naomi by the paw, barely giving her a chance to warn him about running into folks before he's dragging her towards the wounded.

The Rath'ani accompanying the healer squeaks at suddenly being hauled off, and she takes a few moments to get her bearings and figuring out where the fennec must be headed. "Hey, you!" she shouts to the mongrel to get his attention. Naomi gets her feet under her and tries to help Roho find his way safely to the Gallah's side.

The Gallah takes a nervous step back, his tail drooping and his bearing held as though he were expecting to be chided for something. Still, he kneels down and places the fox in his arms gently on the ground. "She … she fell into the sewers and was bitten by vermites."

The raccoon takes a deep breath at seeing the state of the mongrel's burden, and immediately regrets it. "Ummm … her left arm looks the worst, sir… Maybe we should try to get her back to the clinic quickly, so you can clean her off… ?" her voice trails off as she talks to Roho.

Roho's fingers lightly move over the fox's left arm. He nods, "Hang on." He heads over to the vendor. "Your most recent offer." He puts some shekels in the vendor's paw, then scoops up the gauze. He returns to the fox, and presses the pads against the left arm. "Okay, let's get to the clinic… "

With the use of the raccoon's cloak, Naomi and Piper are able to improvise a kind of stretcher, and they carry the vixen as swiftly as possible through the cluttered streets, the Gallah's sharp barks encouraging pedestrians to get out of the way.

They transport the injured vulpine into one of the treatment rooms, and they barely have her settled onto one of the tables before the raccoon has begun shearing her clothes off of her. The glassy-eyed patient appears to still be conscious, although definitely not alert.

The Gallah suddenly takes an intense interest in a painting on one of the walls. The skin under the white parts of his fur tinges a slight shade of pink.

Roho selects some instruments from a pack as Naomi removes the clothes. He returns to the vixen after washing up, and begins the process of checking for breaks or internal injuries…

"I believe she said her name was Kassie, monsieur. She told me she was pushed down a hole into the sewers." The canine's tail flits back and forth nervously. "I've no money to pay you with, but I will be more than happy to lend my services to you in exchange for your help."

Roho begins with the broken leg, carefully setting it and splinting it. A cast can wait until later. He then turns his attention to the torn arm. "We can figure that out later."

The dog nods and then sniffs himself, making a face. "Is there a place where I can wash up, monsieur? I reek of sewer."

Roho frowns at the arm, going for a bottle of very dark, viscous liquid and starting to swab the wound with it, "Naomi, can you take care of him?"

While Roho examines the patient, his assistant busies herself cleaning off the fox, revealing reddish fur beneath the layer of sewer muck, and numerous small bite marks over the rest of her body. Naomi makes little tsking sounds as she works, then at Roho's query, she says, "Yes, sir. Let me know if you need anything."

The dog sidesteps towards the door as he tries to exit without facing the vixen on the table. "Will the mam'selle be all right?"

Roho flushes the arm wound out, then begins laboriously cleaning it again, "We'll find out in a day or so. But I think she might be okay."