The Merryweather took off from Chronotopia, and most certainly did not let its previous hosts know of its next destination: Titania. Captain Merryweather has repeatedly assured the crew that here, on the eastern side of Titania, the Titanians of Wokazaki Clan don't get into clashes with Chronotopia or other civilized neighbors, so therefore should be in less of a pillaging mindset. Furthermore, he caught wind that a large band of Titanians that went on a pilgrimage to the Red Cliffs are on their way back here now … which just might translate into some opportunities to acquire items of metal with a bit of clever trading.

On the one paw, Captain Merryweather is certain that this little trip will be most profitable for his crew. On the other, everyone's to be on their best behavior, for a torqued Titanian can be quite destructive. (After all, a happy Titanian is destructive enough!)

On the journey this far, Willow managed to see what sights there were to see in Titania … few and far between. The Titanians cluster in camps set up in caverns, or else in fortresses based around the occasional oasis. Titania, after all, may not be hot, but it's still very dry, and is therefore mostly desert, technically speaking.

The most noteworthy sight would have been the Titanic – for all appearances, a life-size model of the Intimidator, only smashed into the side of a mountain, and with a city built around it. Legend has it that the Titanians somehow managed to get the whole thing airborne … for a few seconds. The Titanic is the closest thing to a symbol of unity for Titanians, as members of even rival clans will make pilgrimages to this "holy" site, to lend a hammer for a while to the (vain) project of trying to make this gargantuan ship worthy of flight "again".

Things haven't been nearly so interesting to look at toward the end of this trip. The Poison Canyon was the most interesting, really. The canyon itself is not the largest that Sinai has to offer, but the erosion of time has resulted in curious formations such as natural bridges and "balanced" rocks, as well as some interesting layered hues on the canyon walls, as different sedimentary layers have been laid bare by erosion over time. The natural pools – some of them large enough to qualify as small lakes – display bold colors in their depths, often ranging from turquoise to cobalt blue, though some have tints of rusty orange or various shades of green in their basins. Many of the pools sport thin crusts of floating minerals, making it quite hazardous to risk taking this area by foot … as apparently "solid" ground could well crumble underfoot, giving way to waters hot enough to boil blood in seconds.

The dwellings of the Titanians themselves are a curious set of contrasts – crude blocky houses cut out of the rock and built up with stone and clay bricks, suggesting a primitive way of life … juxtaposed with some of the boldest attempts at mechanical constructs to be seen on the surface. Chronotopia, of course, would be the major rival, and win out for aesthetic concern and reliability, but that doesn't dampen the enthusiasm of the hammer-wielding brutes, who build these things with almost instinctual ability to know just where to hit them to make them do something special.

It's mid-day, and summertime in this part of the world, but Camp Wokazaki is far enough north that it's not toasty hot. At least … not everywhere. It's hard to figure out how to dress just right in this place. Above the canyon, chill winds blast across the flatlands, knocking dust into the rift every now and then. As one gets deeper into the canyon, however, the winds are blocked by the canyon walls, and there are pockets of heat here and there, generated by the hot springs and the machines that the Titanians created to harness their power.

Captain Merryweather and Barnacle are engaged in negotiations with the Titanians … and holding out for the hope that this rumored band of pilgrims returning from the Red Cliffs may arrive during the Merryweather's stay, bearing souvenirs. Given how long this may take, this gives Willow the potential of having more time than most of her stopovers to snoop around or run errands. Of course, it could get cut off once the "pilgrims" arrive … but considering the nature of Titanians and how they'd probably welcome long-gone kin, it's a fair bet that if they show up, Willow will get plenty of advance notice, so long as she has ears to hear.

Right now, Willow finds herself on a rocky ledge that has been built up with bricks so that it has a short wall rimming it in, and winding walkways hugging the cliffs on either side – one route heading back to the docks, and the other to yet another part of the Titanian settlement. A sign mounted nearby reads, "SEENIK VIZTAH", next to a clunky-looking contraption with a coin slot at one end (labeled "SHEKULZ"), and an hourglass on a wheel-like fixture at the other. An attached spyglass is on a swivel mount, and nearby hangs a mallet dangling from a peg by a leather cord.

For safety's sake, Willow's kept Burr nearby simply for the fact that if things do get harrowing, she can rely on him to grab her and run, instead of having to limp along in her casts. She does enjoy stretching her legs a bit though, even if it is in Titania. Upon seeing the odd device, she shrugs, plunks a shekel into it and peers through the scope.

The device makes a *clunk* noise when a shekel is deposited in it, and the hourglass wheel shifts visibly … but doesn't move much. For what it's worth, though, when Willow looks through the spyglass, she can see just fine, getting a grand (and scenic) view of the Poison Canyon.

At first, what she gets a good eye-full of is the blurry back of the head of some Titanian standing on a platform and picking his nose. However, a slight adjustment, and Willow can see a blurry view of a roadway with several strange wheeled vehicles moving down it. Fortunately, there's an adjustment knob on the side that is a fairly standard way to fix the focus.

Burr, meanwhile, peers curiously at the machine … and … hesitantly … reaches out and grabs a handle on the wheel holding the hourglass. He gives it a good crank, which causes the hourglass to turn around with the sand-filled side up, and grains start slowly going through. This has no noticeable effect whatsoever on Willow's view through the spy scope.

( I wonder what the hammer's for? ) The rat stands on tiptoe and meddles with the focus knob, trying to get a better look at the vehicles.

As the scope focuses in, it requires some careful effort to keep the scope from jiggling on its mount, but the vehicles become more clear as a small convoy of ten or so two-wheeled vehicles with a multitude of pipes sticking out of the back, each with a Titanian sitting in the middle as if riding a Dromodon, and holding onto some large bars that seem to have something to do with steering the kludgy-looking machines. Mounted on the front of many of the vehicles can be seen a giant skull of some sort, or else some ceramic or wood pieces cobbled together to suggest a beast's head or something vaguely skull-like. The Titanians all wear helmets – some with spikes on top – and goggles. Of course, every one of them has a large hammer either in one hand, or else mounted on a rack behind the driver. A few Titanians have lady Titanians crammed onto the driver's seat, hanging onto the driver's back. They wear similar headgear.

Willow scratches an ear and looks to see if the vehicles are carrying anything else. Maybe these are the pilgrims from the Red Cliffs?

It does appear that there is something on the back of the vehicles … some sort of streamers? Ah! A banner. It reads … Well, it takes a moment to piece together what it says, as it flaps about … but it says, "Welkum Bak 2 Poyzun Kanyun Heerows".

"I guess they're a welcoming party." The rat steps down from the scope and ushers the Savanite towards it. "Have a peek; might as well not waste the rest of my time."

The cheetah wanders over and peers into the telescope. He doesn't have to step on the stool in front of the machine, but he's still not the size of the average Titanian.

As Willow steps away, she can see another procession coming down one of the canyon walls, with more banners, coming to meet the rolling two-wheeled machines. But she can also see another group of two-wheeled machines – smaller, and without any banners – heading off in a different direction, up toward the Wandering Roams side of the canyon wall.

"I guess they're coming to greet the pilgrims as well. Hopefully they won't be too much trouble." Willow's eyes widen slightly at the sight of the newcomers. "Okay, enough peeking, Burr. I just saw something that looked interesting." She nudges the cheetah out of the way and scrambles for the scope.

The cheetah steps aside, and leans over the stone barrier rimming the platform, putting a hand over his eyes as he tries to peer at whatever in the canyon holds his interest.

Willow swings the scope around, first focusing on the smaller group. "These folks don't look like much of a welcome committee."

The smaller group of two-wheeled vehicles is making its way up a winding road to the highest part of the canyon wall, on the Wandering Roams side. They are armed with hammers … but also with larger weapons that look akin to harpoons mounted on the backs of their vehicles. Their course appears to be taking them clear of the converging groups that Willow saw earlier. A few of them are howling and swinging mallets around, but they don't have passengers clinging to the backs of the drivers.

"A hunting party, I'd wager." She spins the scope around to look at the larger group of Titanians. "Maybe they're going to have a big cookout tonight, although I wonder what Titanian food tastes like."

An older Titanian with a shaggy-looking beard and bushy eyebrows lumbers along the walkway by the Seenik Viztuh, a wooden mallet slung over his shoulder. He rumble-barks a song to himself as he walks along. "… so I sez, 'Smack, crack, hit 'em back; if they holler, gi'm a whack; dat's da way to gedda snack; zakis mekka tasty snack… " Okay, so 'snack' and 'snack' aren't the most original of words to rhyme together. But it is a Titanian song…

"Good morning," the rat squeaks, drawing away from the scope. "You here to greet the Red Cliff folks too?" She remains standing on the stool if only to give herself a little bit more height.

The old Titanian stops, and turns to look at a spot above the Skreek's head. He doesn't see anything, and squints in the direction of the Savanite instead. Addressing the cheetah, he says, "Aw, yeza … mebbe." He smacks his chops. "Thinkin' 'bouts smackin' a few zakis firs' for za big roosta-hoo-hah. Bonk-head saw a Goliath up onna ridge far datta way… " He points toward the Wandering Roams side of the canyon. "Where yaz sees goliaths, yaz finds plenty zakis!"

Burr turns around, confusedly trying to figure out why an old Titanian is talking to him.

The rat hops down from the stool and limps over to Burr. "I'm new around here. What's a 'zakis'?" She elbows the cheetah. "Lift me up on your shoulders."

Burr obediently picks up Willow, and sets her up on his shoulders. This brings Willow face to face with the slightly hunched Titanian.

The old Titanian laughs. "Ah! Yaz frumma western clan, aheh? Come here ta see alla hoo-ha? Zat's fine. Yep. Uh … Zakis are like goliaths. Only lots smaller. Dey go hippity-hop… " He pantomimes, gesturing with his hammer, "… hoppin' after da big goliath. Deeze goliaths, dey big an' nasty machine-beastie things. They roam about, 'til dey run into anudder goliath, den dey bonk each others silly. Like youze Titans do on da plains, yeh? And zazakis, dey happy to go bonkin' udder zakis, too, actin' like da big goliaths." He swings his hammer playfully around, but Burr ducks in time – and far enough – that Willow doesn't get beaned.

The rat clamps tightly into Burr's right ear for balance. "Er… so they're like baby goliaths, then." The rat wildly gestures off towards The Merryweather. "I'm with some folks here to do some trading. Think there'll be lots of that? And what about this 'Hoohah'?"

The Titanian nods emphatically. "Yez, lotsa tradin'. Didja know? Machines work inna Red Cliffs … anna da pilgrims are comin' back! Haw! Mah grandson'll be comin' back. 'E's a miner, ya know. 'E kin smack rocks better'n anybody! 'Cept me." The old Titanian pokes himself on his chest, then bark-laughs loudly.

An explosion echoes through the canyon. The old Titanian doesn't even flinch. This happens every few minutes, after all.

"What do you trade for – EEYAH!" Willow's head swings around off in the direction of the explosion. She's still not quite used to things here, after all.

A few bits of debris rain down from some exploding Titanian machine, and some steam vents out. Several fuzzy little forms (they look little from this far away) scurry over to repair the damage.

The rat's grip on Burr's ear tightens for a moment. "Er… You're going to be trading iron mostly, right? Hmm… Wonder if I could get the makings for some nice iron daggers, or an iron walking stick… "

"Haw!" says the Titanian. "A dagger? Anyding you kin cut, you kin SMASH better! But … yeah … lotsa iron, I hears. Great for making machines. Yaz know … I hears dat da gremlins don't like Abadabbadoni-yun metal so's much."

"I'm not so good at smashing things. I tried it on a cliff wall recently and the only thing that got smashed was an arm and a leg." She smirks a little. "So what are gremlins?"

For a moment, the Titanian seems taken aback. "Yaz don't know abouts GREMLINS? Haw!" He slaps himself hard on the forehead. "Ow," he grunts, and staggers to keep his balance. He shakes his head, then says, "Gremlins, dey be wot makes da dings go boom. Sometimes, dat good. Most da time, dat bad." He nods sadly. "Dey likes to make machines go ka-blooie. But dey can only jumps so high. Dat why machines dey work better inna Repheedim, cuz da gremlins canna jump up so high very well."

"Oh… THOSE gremlins!" Willow sticks the tip of her tongue out for a moment. "So what brings an old miner like you out here?"

The Titanian pats his belly. "Dis! I gots a taste for zaki sammich."

"I see. Well, maybe I'll see you at the hoohah, depending on how long my captain stays here. Are outsiders allowed in? You know… those dinky little foreigners; nobody from Chronotopia, I assure you." Willow hangs an elbow over Burr's head as though the slave were suddenly an armrest.

The Titanian nods. "Oh! Shore! Just donna drink da beer! Dinky li'l fore – fore – udder people canna hol' Poison Canyon Beer!"

( Note to self… find Whitehead and warn him about the beer. If he doesn't listen, it's his own blasted fault, but I'd rather not end up cleaning the contents of his stomach off of the floor of my office. ) She nods, "Got it. So when does all the fun begin?"

"Soon as da pilgrims get here, I 'spect," replies the Titanian. His stomach grumbles. "Hmph. I gonna get some zakis now. You wanna get some, too? Lotsa fun! You gotta hammer? Baw! COURSE ya do!"

"Er… hammer. Right, I'll have to find one that fits me." Willow drums her fingers against the cheetah's head. "Nevermind. Maybe I'll see you tonight."

The Titanian nods, and stomps off along the pathway, leaving the cheetah and the rat alone at the Seenik Viztuh. As soon as the Titanian has gone, Burr lets out a sigh of relief.

The rat lightly bops the cheetah's head. "What's with you? Afraid he was going to try to eat your head or something?"

Burr shakes his head in the negative.

Willow points off in the direction of the Merryweather, "Then what? Something about the old coot spooked you, apparently."

Burr points at the little hammer dangling from the side of the spyscope contraption, then pantomimes socking himself on the head, and sticks out his tongue, crossing his eyes. He then rubs his head.

"I see – You were afraid he might knock your skull down past your shoulders, eh? Well… if that ever happened, we'd just stick Thorn up there so he could pretend to be your head." She gives the cheetah's head a nudge. "Back to the airship, and I suppose that it might be best for you to stay there during tonight's rabble to keep that cub of yours out of trouble. Don't you agree?"

Burr nods, and, without further prompting, heads off back toward the airship.

Behind them, the hourglass (obviously not really amounting to a full hour) finishes as the last grain of sand pours out of the top part. It wobbles, then clicks around … and suddenly a wheel attached to a hammer spins. The hammer swings through the air about where a Titanian's head would be, peering through the spy-scope. Writing on the hammer reads, "DEPOZIT NUDDER SHEKL, DUMMY!"

"Guh!" Willow flinches a bit at the hammer. "Er… Maybe I should see if anyone there is selling an iron helmet as well."

Later that evening, the Poison Canyon is alight from campfires and torches that dot the walls, and curious lantern arrangements that are submerged in mineral pools, making them glow orange or blue-green.

There is all manner of racket, most of it percussive, as Titanians clang and bang. There would be no sense in trying to sleep in tonight, for sure.

Titanians rumble around on their two-wheeled machines – "motozakis", Willow has learned that the Wokazaki clan calls them. (As for the name of the clan … they call themselves that because they like to "wok" zakis.)

On a rocky plateau rising from somewhere approximating the center of the Poison Canyon, several Titanians drive about in circles on their motozakis, with a mug in one hand and a hammer in the oth – *CRASH!* Well, that's what happens when a Titanian doesn't keep at least one hand on the controls. The rest of them keep rolling for now. Willow is currently seated atop Burr's shoulders, on a pile of rocks that serve as something approximating a seat, while some Titanians roast some hunks of meat that were once part of whatever passes for a "zaki" around here.

Across the way, a band of Titanians hammers on large drums, some expensive-looking cymbals and gongs (oh, wait, that was before the big "iron rush"), and anything else that makes a noise when hit – including occasionally each other.

The rat keeps a pair of rocks in her hands, banging them together in time with the music although her pathetic attempts (especially with one arm BROKEN) is easily drowned out by the rest of the noise. "So what all happened in the Red Cliffs? You run into any Jupani ghosts?" she squeaks to the closest wolf.

"Ghosts?" replies the wolf. "I dunno. Nuh. No ghosts. Justa lotsa birdies anna batbats anna … anna … uhh … " He rubs his head, looking a bit groggy from too much Poison Canyon beer. "Oh yeah. Da quiet guys. Yeah."

"TITANS!" barks out another Titanian from the other side, this one having some stripes dyed into his face-fur. "Dere were big busted up TITANS all over da ground! So's we patched 'em up … and mebbe one day weza gonna geddim workin' again!"

This second Titanian has lots of metal bits of junk dangling from a necklace, small gears hammered together to form bracelets, and other metal baubles here and there. Once upon a time, his attire would have cost a small fortune.

"Sounds great." Willow grins. "So what are you going to be doing with your newfound treasure?"

The stripe-faced Titanian grins. "Gonna make my OWN Titan!" He shakes his head, making his necklace and headgear jangle with the motion.

The rat eyes the Titanian's adornments. "You craft those decorations yourself? I bet the ladies love all that metal."

An armored digitigrade form – short compared to the Titanians, but tall compared to the Skreek – makes his way through the festivities. His attire is a mixture of robes and what looks to be ornamental rather than functional armor, and he carries a heavy tome under one arm. He is followed by a small entourage of four Titanians who are attired differently than their brethren, wearing robes of a vaguely similar cut. And, even more odd, they look like they're sober.

"Burr… I think one of the wolves hit me in the head and I sort of failed to notice it. I'm seeing things." She kicks the slave's sides, trying to urge him to stand up so she can get a better look at the new arrivals.

"Oh YEAH!" agrees the stripe-faced Titanian. "Ima gonna propose to mah LOVE!" He holds up a hammer. "And iffen she says 'no', Iza gonna club 'er and drag 'er off and tells her she sez 'yes' but forgot. Real smart, huh?" He nods in agreement with himself.

Burr gets up at the spurring, affording Willow a better view. The digitigrade stranger looks for all the world like a priest of some sort, his robes bearing a symbol that looks like a flame, and his robes trimmed in stylized flames as well. The Titanians following him have much plainer attire … and they occasionally scratch at their robes or otherwise look like they're not quite accustomed to being fixed up like this.

The priest turns around and faces his entourage, and starts making hand gestures. It only takes a moment for Willow to recognize them for what they are: Silent Sign. "Strongheart, you will lead. Truefire, stop fidgeting. And don't forget the third part this time."

The Titanian "acolytes" nod to the priest's signed instructions … though the fourth one looks confused … and the signs get repeated for him a second time, this time more slowly. At last, the fourth wolf smiles and nods again.

"Um… hi there! Care to join us for a bite?" Willow folds her arms across Burr's head. "Who might you be?"

The priest turns to look in the direction of Willow, and quickly signs a "Just a moment… " to the four wolves. He then leaves them and walks over to Willow and Burr. His expression is hidden under a helmet that has a horizontal eye-slot, and another slot that runs vertically … though rather than being open slots like a normal helmet would be, the gap is filled with a black, glossy material. Perhaps some sort of glass? That would definitely indicate an ornamental helmet, considering the risks of that breaking if the helmet took a blow.

Willow quirks her head, "Are you with the Knights Templar? One of those vow of silence types?" She carefully raises her hands up, "Would you prefer if I sign? Harder to do with my busted arm, but I can manage."

"I am Brother Testament-Blaze, come here from Abaddon to bring the Light of the Star to Sinai," signs the priest. He looks to the cheetah. "Your face is uncovered. You must be of the Lost Tribe?"

Burr just blinks in confusion.

The rat's ears flatten. "He's with me. No tribe that I know of."

Burr silently nods in agreement with the rat.

The priest signs, "Very well. I have not previously encountered the People of this world."

"So what do you plan to do to spread the 'light' to Sinai? You looking to travel? My captain might be willing to take you if you pay well or work hard." Willow glances at the Titanian escorts. "These converts of yours?"

The priest signs, "I bring the Holy Book of the Star, in translations of all the Known Languages. I seek to learn the new languages of this world as well, so that the Light of the Star may be shared to all the peoples." He gestures to the Titanians waiting on him. "They have embraced the Light, and will share it with their brothers."

( Great… another quack religion. ) The rat ruffles her fur a bit. "Holy Book? Are you giving copies of it away?"

The foursome of Titanians begins setting up some equipment. It looks like they have some drums of their own … and some other instruments.

The priest nods and digs through his robes. He pulls out a small booklet bound in a material that feels something like leather, but doesn't seem to be quite as durable. Bound with it is a paper pamphlet.

"May I? I wouldn't mind something to read while on the airship." She eyes the Titanians. "Just to warn you, these folks might turn violent on you. There's a REASON why I'm perched up here on Burr's shoulders like a Creen."

The priest hands the booklet and pamphlet up to the Skreek. His hands free, he signs, "Do not be concerned. The Star will protect us. I must go now."

Willow pockets the book and adjusts her perch on Burr's shoulders. She peers down to look at him. "Be ready to run, just in case… all right?"

Burr nods, as the priest heads off.

The four Titanians have assembled a small stage from nearby crates and other debris, and have settled on it with their instruments. They start to play music – real music – albeit heavy on percussion. (It just wouldn't be Titanian any other way.)

"Crazy spotty. I wonder if these folks are in league with that witch-queen in the Savan. Ah well, at least they gave me a book to read. It can't be any worse than the one I picked up in Abu-Dhabi." The rat leans across Burr's head, now using the slave as an armrest and a headrest.

Burr pokes at some of his spots, then makes a questioning sign, trying to look up a bit, though he can't exactly look Willow in the eyes right now.

Two of the Titanian acolytes have big metal cylinders strapped to their feet, and are stomping around in time with each other, ringing metal cylindrical pipes together in their hands and howling. One wields a hammer, banging on various drums, while the fourth carries an instrument that looks vaguely like a guitar.

"I didn't mean YOU were crazy, Burr. I wouldn't keep you if you were a loon. Besides, you're also paranoid, which comes in useful sometimes." The rat's ears perk at the music.

There seems to be an odd rhythm going on with the Titanian wielding the hammer. While the rest of the music is purely a matter of percussive melody … the hammering sounds more like it's some sort of code. Ah. Hammersong.

Some of the Titanians quiet down, listening to the hammering. Most of them, however, are too wrapped up in their merry-making to even pay notice.

A Titanian in leathery garb and with lots of junk dangling from hooks on a vest he wears wanders by, holding a wooden box held by a strap running across his shoulders. "Hey! You wanna buy iron? Cheap!" The box is full of gears and bolts and rusty mechanical-looking doodads.

Willow looks up from the slave's head. "Eh?" She peers into the box, glancing up every so often to read the expressions of the Titanians listening in on the hammering. "You wouldn't happen to have any daggers, would you? Or maybe something I can use for the head of a cane?"

The Titanian vendor digs around in his box of junk, and pulls out something that looks like a broken sword, the blade about as long as the handle is. "Ah! Here is a ka-nifey! And for a cane… " He digs around some more and finds a big metal gear. "You could slap dis onna toppa stick for a cane."

One of the Titanians looks a bit upset at something, and flings a large bone at the four Titanian musicians. It bounces off of the head of one of the stompers.

"Er. Maybe sometime later." She glances sidelong at the Titanian who sculpted the bangles in his fur.

The vendor shrugs, and moves along, finding another Titanian to present his wares to. Meanwhile, Willow catches sight of the Titanian setting next to her, who is currently sitting with his chin on one meaty fist, looking perplexed as he watches the musicians.

"Hey… what did they say that got that fellow riled up?" The rat chitters to the Titanian.

The Titanian starts, and turns to Willow. "Oh … deyz sayin' things, like we do bad things, and we gotta get right with this Star thing. Deyz all messed up from talking wif those quiet guys on Abaddon. Now deyz rude and causin' trouble. Ain't none of us ever done anything really bad. Mebbe bustin' a few heads, but none dat didn't deserve it!"

"Are they saying anything specifically about what's bad?" The rat tightens her grip on Burr's head, sensing that she might have to get out of here rather quickly soon.

The Titanian shrugs. "Oh … killin', stealin', lyin', cheatin'. Beh. I dinks dey just needs a few slaps up side da head to get dat quiet guyz stuff outta der noggins." He starts to get up, and grabs his hammer. "I dink I's gonna do dat right now. Wanna help?"

( Why is it always me? ) The rat plasters a smile on her face. "Aww… but it's probably too many whacks on the head that got them in this sorry shape to begin with. Besides, what will your girlie think if you get your nice hammer all messed up BEFORE you even whack her with it?"

The Titanian ponders. "Ah … good hit dere. I dinna think of that. Mebbe I could just slap 'em 'round a bit. I mean, not like I think stealin's good. I mean, I don't need to steal nuttin'. Anything I ain't got, I kin just go down and clobber a guy from Sokazaki Clan for, fair 'n square. But I don't like how's they gets uppity like this, tellin' me what's right and wrong like I'm a li'l mallet, huh?"

A few more bones fly at the four musicians, along with a wrench and a boot. The wrench hits the priest on his ornamental helmet … and though it doesn't damage the helmet, the relatively small (by Titanian standards) priest gets knocked over.

"I think you should just leave them be for now. I mean, it's not like they's throwing hammers at YOU after all. Eventually they'll hush up and you can go about your business just like before." Willow pulls a few shekels from her pocket. "Hey, speaking of business… you think you could sculpt me a head for a walking cane? I'd like to get something to use for when I'm off these crutches and I wouldn't mind too much of it was something durable I could whop folks with, and you seem to be an expert at whopping people."

The Titanian's tail wags at the sight of the shekels. "Shore!" he barks. "I could do that. Lemme get my tools… "

The rat jerks up. She might be able to keep this one Titanian distracted but not the whole mob of folks, and in her present state she's not entirely keen on rushing into a mob of other angry Titanians and demanding that they all behave.

In the background, it looks like a Titanian has come up to challenge the guitarist. The priest, having gotten back up to his feet, tries to sign to his acolytes something to the effect of, "No violence!" but even before he's done signing, the guitar has just been smashed over the head of one of the band's critics. It looks like it's going quickly downhill from there.

"Burr, are you fast enough to grab that fellow in the armor and dash off with him? You can leave me here; I think I can get back to the ship myself and hopefully the folks here won't think I was with you. The other guys can probably take a few poundings, but I get the feeling that their leader's in trouble." Willow swallows.

Burr nods his head.

The stage is now getting mobbed, and the whole thing is turning into a free-for-all. While some of the Titanians may be mad at the musicians, a few drunken wolves are just happily swinging their hammers at anybody who happens to be within range, not particular about WHO gets hit, as long as it's a good fray.

"Fires help me, I seem to collect loonies." The rat eases herself off of Burr's shoulders. "Okay then, look for an opening and then grab him and run for all your worth and haul tail back to the ship. Try and take a long way around though, as I'd rather not leave with the whole gang here angry at the Merryweather again. Cap will probably boot us both out if we leave another port with the whole town trying to kill us."

Burr nods, then dashes into the fray, ducking hammer-blows as he goes. (Here, at least, it pays to be short. Not that Burr is usually considered 'short'.)

Above the mob, the Abaddonian priest can be seen briefly, being tossed into the air, arms flailing, and then he lands on top of some Titanians again. Some of his little books and pamphlets go flying.

The rat picks up her rock again and drags herself to an unobtrusive point. She looks around for one of the Titanians that might actually nail the slave with his hammer or fist, and flings the stone at him.

Burr can be briefly glimpsed in the crowd of Titanians. A large wolf is about to bludgeon the cheetah, but then a rock suddenly lodges itself in his mouth. Over here, he ducks a hammer just in time, as it connects into another Titanian that was trying to grab him. Then, as a Titanian confronts him, he ducks to the ground, goes down between the Titanian's leg, then pops up and sharks the Titanian's trousers. Over there, a flash of gold can be seen again, as X gets a good bonk to the noggin … but keeps going, staggering a bit. At last, as a couple of Titanians stumble out of the crowd with their jerkins pulled up around their heads and tied into knots, and then a cheetah dashes out, with a robed priest slung unceremoniously over his back. He makes a break for it, ducking thrown objects and leaping over a couple of prone drunks.

A big wolf with a shaggy mane and a taste for leather and chains rolls by on a two-wheeled monster of a machine. He pulls up his goggles and looks down at the Skreek. "Heyyyyy! You little ratty gonna get SKOOSHED iffen you stays here. You wanna ride onna my motozaki?"

Willow winces at the head bonk and scoots back. She brightens at the arrival of the biker Titanian. "Considering I'm half skooshed already, that sounds like a good idea. Just show me where to sit."

The biker slaps the leather seat behind him (mostly occupied by a furry tail that can be pushed out of the way). He then looks at Willow's leg and arm and shrugs … then just reaches over, grabs the rat and plunks her on the seat behind him. "Hold on TIGHT, ratty! Gonna FLY!"

The rat clings onto the Titanian's back as tightly as she can. "All set!" ( Burr, you'd better be okay, or so help me… )

The Titanian snaps his goggles back down, checks the straps on his spiked helmet, then cranks the steering handles, causing the already noisy machine to roar even more loudly, and vibrate violently. The Titanian howls loudly, as the machine rears up on its back wheel … After a suspended moment it comes crashing back down, and the motozaki rushes toward the edge of the rocky plateau, the Titanian cackling like a madman all the while. Titanians either leap to the side to get out of the way, or simply get bowled aside in a blur of rolling fur if they're not fast enough!

"If you can, take me *oof* down to the docks where the airships are!" the rat chitters out in between bumps.

"Dat's EASY!" bellows the wolf … and suddenly the ground disappears from underneath the motozaki. There's a scenic view of the canyon floor far below. Hmm. Deja vu. The wolf just bellows a throaty, "AWRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOO!" as the bike careens into open space.

The rat's eyes widen, and then snap tightly shut as she buries her head into the Titanian's back. ( After this, I'll never complain about the state of the Merryweather again. It's never THIS bumpy even in the worst storms. )

It seems like a long, long time that the machine is going through the air … and then there's a sudden JOLT as the spring-loaded wheels connect with solid rock … and the craft skids around in a half-circle, abruptly coming to a stop. The engine promptly sputters and dies. The Titanian grumbles and starts stomping on a lever to the side of the machine.

Willow dares to crack an eye open again. She lightens her death-grip on the Titanian's back, and peers around.

*SPADUT* *SPADUT* *SPADUT* *pumpa pumpa pumpa* *SPADUT* *SPADUT* The wolf continues his furious attempts to restart the engine, but it seems that they are to no avail. For what it's worth, though, the machine is still up on its wheels, Willow hasn't been thrown from her seat, and it would appear that the machine has landed on one of the rocky outcroppings right next to the docks. The Merryweather's envelope is only a short hobble away.

"Er… I think I can walk from here. Thanks for the ride!" The rat starts to pry her fingers back open and slips down from the seat of the motorcycle.

The wolf stops his working on the machine to look at the seat. He grins broadly. "Heyyyy! You'se a brave ratty! You dinna even weedle on da leather!" He pops down a kick-stand, and dismounts the machine, and starts working on it with some tools in a case mounted on the side, leaving the Skreek to make her way back to the airship. At least it's downhill.

( What… and ruin ANOTHER piece of clothing? ) Willow waves to the wolf and starts to limp back to the airship.