The Korv Corsair and the Vartan, having escaped the Confederate Life Dome and the Progenitor, have now found themselves on board another airship bound for the Himar Pit. After some medical attention, a meal, and lots of answers, they have finally retired to a small berth in the ship to await their arrival.

The Vartan has taken over the floor, finding the bed to be uncomfortable and too small. He's relieved it of its pillows and is currently using his travel blanket to soften the floor beneath him. He lies there quietly, arms folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

Kensington sits on his bunk, with his legs folded neatly under him as he meticulously polishes one of his sabres, digging with almost fanatic fervor at every little nook on the hilt, and inch of the blade for any remains of its last target.

"Where did you get metal swords, Kensington?" Zoltan scrawks in Vartan. He finds the language to be much easier and a bit more clear. "The only ones with metal swords in Rephidim were the Knights Templar."

The Korv inspects the honed edge of one of his sabres. "'Twere gifts from me cousin in Blitzheim. Sir Gergesene St. Germain. Grew up t'gether as lads, we did. He aspired t'the Landsknechts, and I… uh… " Kensington coughs, and goes on. "Anyway, I wents back t'Chronotopia for a while… an' 'elped 'im with a lil' problem wit' the Kaiser and a Bosch thing. 'E ended up joinin' the Priests o' th' Gear, an' didn't 'ave a use fer 'is swords no more."

"Useful heirlooms," the Vartan comments. "I wish I hadn't lost my only spirit sword in the Progenitor's mess. Those things are almost as hard to get as metal swords… I ended up making mine."

Kensington tilts his head to one side. "Didja? What was it, 'zactly? Sure didn't look likes no weapon I ever laid eyes on."

Zoltan flexes his hand out, swinging an imaginary blade aroundin the air. "It was just a normal chitin sword… but I bought it extra thick so I could carve spirit runes into it… and then I put silver dust into the carvings so they'd show up. I… uh… made it for fighting the undead, or demons, or ghosts. It's the silver that's going to be expensive to get again. I wanted to get a silver sword, but that would have cost me more gold than I have to spend."

The Korv whistles long and low. "I should 'spect 'twould, Zoltan. Undead? Demons an' ghosts? Ye 'ave a regular problem widdem, do ye?"

"Yes and no." The Vartan lets his hand drop and rests it against the mark on his chest. "Just one; some call her the Queen of the Undead… and she wants my daughter. I started studying how to fight the undead after she started manifesting herself… but then when I went to the Champion of Amber for advice he told me that it would be ten years before she could try and take my daughter. Still, the training is always handy… "

There's a light 'shik' noise as the Korv returns his sabre to its scabbard with a practiced motion. "Always 'andy. Machines'll fail, magic'll go weird, but it's 'ard ta go wrong wit' a strong arm an' a splitter wit' a handle." He whistles to himself, shaking his head. "Queen o' th' Undead. Grife. Well, after Lord Ruthven, an' the Progenitor, I kin believes it." He draws his other sabre, and begins working on it as he did the first. "I wouldna worry abouts the sword so much. That new one ye gots be awfully powerful."

"It's empty," Zoltan replies. "They gave me some more bullets for my exile gun, but didn't have anything for the gunblade. It's just a sword now."

"Huhn. 'At's too bad. Mebbe there's more boom things on Abaddon. Th' knights could know more." Kensington begins scrubbing diligently at his own mundane blade, pondering. "'Sides, there's plenny o' metal on Abaddon. Maybe yer runes could be inscribed on that gunblade. Pity that, o' all th' things I saws in me head, gunblades weren't one o' 'em."

"Was that how you were able to pilot the Plaguebringer?" the Vartan squawks, sitting up slowly.

The Korv stops in mid-polish. After a moment, he speaks. "Aye. Suppose it was. 'Twas also 'ow I knew where t'strikes th' Progenitor, I guess."

Now completely upright, Zoltan leans against the side of the bed. "I thought my shot had killed it… but I remember those squirmy things." He sighs. "I also remember seeing my father; it was too easy, it was all too easy. What did the Progenitor show you?"

"Well… I started off rememberin' me days as a lad at the Luftrittern academy." The Korv looks at his reflection in the partly polished flat of his sword. "Never did too well wit' rules and regulations. I was relivin' what gots me thrown out. Heh, never did find outs if Warrick graduated." He looks up from his sword again, contemplative. "From that point… it gots strange. From them memories, alluva sudden, I was a Jupani. Not at the academy anymore. In the Himar."

"A Jupani?" The Vartan scratches at his head. "I was myself throughout my vision… Something strange must have happened to you. Please, go on."

Kensington shrugs. "It's what 'appened. I was a Jupani. Just finished huntin' me dinner, when I looked up in the sky, an' saw a lil' dot. It exploded, the sky. Uh. 'Broke' be the on'y word I kin thinks of. Shattered, went black, then reformed … all aroun' me, great red cliffs appeared, shorn trees fallin' where they met th' walls. I ran fer me life, to the center, climbed a tree to try'n get away. An' I did… only I wasna Jupani no more… "

Zoltan rubs at the spot on his chest again and nods his head, saying nothing for the moment.

"I were a Savanite. On'y I didn't think 'Savanite'. I was in a Titan." The Korv looks at Zoltan for a moment, before realizing even he himself shouldn't really know what a Titan is. "Er… it's like a suit o' armor. On'y it's more'n armor, it's a machine too. Ye makes it move just likes ye were wearing armor, though, from a plasteel control cage. Bah, strike me iffen I knows what 'plasteel' is… T'ain't important. Anyway, I was in this Titan … after some Confederates what raided me supply train. They were 'eaded fer something what looked like a Life Dome, on'y there was no dome. Just a big hole in th' ground fulla trees, like the desert never coulda had. Th' Confederates were 'eaded right for it … some Vartans, one of 'em black as me an' you."

"Cambio… " Zoltan says quietly. "It had to have been him."

Kensington shrugs again, returning to shining the sabre in his claws. "Coulda been. At th' time, alls I could think was, 'Never seen Vartan that colour before. Must be an' ace.' So's I 'eaded after 'im. Armed me cannon, me sword were at th' ready. Boosters engaged, I jumped inta th' pit … an' everythin' failed in th' Titan. Alls at once. No power, no sensors, weapon systesm down, boosters shut off. I was fallin' an fallin', just thinkin' this was impossible … an' suddenly, I was standin' on a ship like no other. I was speakin', but it wasn't me own voice."

The Vartan just nods, looking down at his hands.

The corsair's eyes are distant again, gazing at something his mind projects for him. "'Twas th' Crystal Coil. Imperial Cruiser… magnificent ship. Even though I'm not a Naga now, I know 'twas a magnificent ship. It flew between planets, an' below was a big blue ball. Sinai. We'd ordered human landing colonies to go down, but they'd 'ad systems malfunctions, just like me Titan. I thought it was treachery, but me second weren't so sure."

"But how did all this tell you where to strike the Progenitor?" Zoltan scrawks, looking back up towards the Korv.

"'E told me we couldn't go home, or get a message through… so we turned to the other planets. Abaddon, Ashtoreth, Arcadia… can't remember which one we set our listenin' post on, but we set up shop there." Kensington shivers a little, looking directly at the Vartan now. "The Progenitor? That 'appened right after I 'left' th' Naga High Commander… I was a Vartan. Aye, a Vartan… older'n most. Me name was Doctor Shreega."

Zoltan dips his beak in a nod. "You mentioned him… something about thanking him for something."

Kensington hugs himself, as if suddenly cold. "'Twas an experiment, to start with. You remember the Overseer, aye? He was an eeee, once… even back then, 'e was covered in prosthetics… err, 'nother word fer 'fake body parts'. They kept 'im alive. I was important t'the project… an' I knew all about th' Progenitor we was workin' on. I thought it was dangerous, but they needed me. Still, they thought I was slowin' the project down… so they put me inna Husker against me will, t'take me mind, an' put it in… in… " With a clatter, the Korv's saber drops to the floor, and Kensington clutches his head.

The Vartan jumps back to avoid the falling blade and then pulls himself up to his hooves. Nervously he puts a hand on the Korv's shoulder. "Kensington… Kensington! It wasn't you… You're here."

"Happened… too fast. Too many images… " The Korv shudders, his knuckles growing white. When he continues, it's in Vartan again. "Tall faces… and I was so small… my wings too small to fly… I was hungry, but no-one would feed me… a cold metal surface, and the faces… so frightening… a monster… a monster of metal devouring me with tendrils… " Nagai. "It wasss too much… " Jupani. "Too much." His hands free themselves from his mussed crest, and slowly sign, "Too… much."

The Vartan grabs the Korv's hands and shakes them. "Kensington… you had the sense to bring me back when I went crazy at Herbir's house; don't go losing it on me now! Pull yourself together."

"Ughn… I'm… I'm all right." The Korv opens his eyes again, somewhat haunted. "I'm all right. It was just… a shock. It was hard to remember, but then it flooded back… all those memories, and they weren't mine." Sitting up again, he takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a sigh. "That was the end of it all. I was Kensington again… Kensington, and in a lot of pain. When I ripped myself free, Doctor Shreega's knowledge gave me some understanding … of life technology … of what was going on … and of the Progenitor."

Zoltan gently lets go of Kensington's hands. "It sounds like he helped you, he helped us all. The Progenitor had Wynona and I trapped in a little pretend world where we got anything we wanted. We probably would have sat there and slowly died had it not been for you."

The Korv braces his wings on the edge of his bunk, with another shaky sigh. "I would have drowned right along with you. I … I don't know why I saw anything different. Maybe Doctor Shreega was still somehow alive in the Progenitor's pool of minds. If so, I wonder why he reached out, and happened to find me." He looks at Zoltan with weary curiosity. "You saw your father, then? Is Wynona all right? I haven't seen her since the ordeal… and couldn't really pay attention while I was flying the Plaguebringer."

The Vartan growls and sits back down on the floor. "It wasn't him… it was just an imaginary puppet that the Progenator had pulled out of my mind. It was… hrrr… too easy of a victory if that means anything. I dreamed that I woke up and the people of the city were cheering me for killing the Progenitor, and they wanted me to use a machine that would send me back in time to fix any errors of the past. They said it was too late for me to reach Herbir and it was the only way I could stop him … so I went, and flew to Herbir's cabin. We talked, but it was all too clean … too easy. Then my head started to hurt and I heard your voice telling me to wake up, I knew it was a lie when suddenly the death queen that had been plaguing my children leaped out and said I could kill her if I stayed … and," he leans his head heavily in his hands, "then I heard my daughter begging me not to leave her." He sighs. "Wynona dreamed of getting her powers back. She feels useless here."

"Well … maybe when we find the pit of Himar, she'll think again. That mask of yours told you there was magic afoot, didn't it? I think only Wynona has a real understanding of that stuff." The Korv grinds the edges of his beak together, getting off his bunk to retrieve his sword. "I don't much like things I can't fight straight on. Don't like them much at all."

"Kensington… I'm going to face Herbir, and I'm going to need you and Wynona with me to do it. If I go alone they'll kill me. Herbir knows Wynona, and you can be mistaken for another Confederate." The Vartan picks up the metal saber and holds it out to Kensington.

Kensington accepts the hilt of his blade with a nod, and twirls it twice in his wingclaw before applying a final long wipe with his rag, and sheathing it. He returns to his old, accented Standard. "I 'ope we kin 'elp. Maybe understandin' the Pit o' Himar'll learn us enough t'get home." He cracks a wry grin around the corners of his beak, the first that's crossed his face in a while. "Right now, Sinai's skies, complete wi' pirates, waashu, Bosch, mages, an' that price on me 'ead, are lookin' so much sweeter'n before."

"I'm not worried about making it back home. The Champion of Amber knew I was going to make this journey, and if he was so concerned about me throwing my life away in Aeztepia and never seeing my daughter again then he would have also warned me about this journey as well. He said I could bring Herbir back … and now I think I understand what he means." Zoltan pulls out the gunblade and runs his finger across the hilt. "I'm hoping to reach Herbir before he makes it to the Pit, and I've finally decided exactly how I'm going to face him. If he sees me as his son, he might not listen to me… and I need to know who he really is before I can let him know who I am."

The crow smooths his crest back down again, at least as much as he can manage. "Ye sound pretty confident we kin gets back. I'll take yer word for it, considerin' what ye gots at stake. What's Herbir so fixed on gettin' to the Pit, fer? Think the Progenitor 'ad somethin' t'do with 'is loyalties?"

Zoltan shakes his head. "No. He's doing it because he hates the Savanites, he hates the Temple, and he hates the Knights Templar. The Savanites were responsible for the destruction of the Lalee Papu, and when he was in Rephidim he served under a corrupt Inquisitor. I think he believes that his battle here will serve to cleanse those mistakes." He chuckles dryly, "I wonder how he would react to knowing that his son is best friends with the Savanite queen, fought alongside the Temple and the Knights in the Plaguebringer attack on Rephidim… and… and plans on walking up to him dressed up like a knight himself."

"Uh… I dunno that 'e'd be doin' a happy lil' jig." The corsair rubs the top of his beak. "E's been thinkin' this way fer years, an' I hopes t'Great Gretchen ye gots some maneuver up yer sleeve to put everythin' he's known in check."

"He might kill me where I stand. I've been thinking long and hard about what I'm going to tell him… Most of it will hurt as much as pulling a knife out of a wound, but it'll have to be done." The Vartan lies back on the floor and stares up at Kensington. "He thinks the Knights are part of the evil he needs to wipe out, so I'm going to speak for the knights … as a knight myself. He won't know who I am when I'm wearing the armor … but at least I'll be able to know who he is. There's… hrr… one little problem though."

Kensington caws, "I kin thinks o' a lot o' problems… but whadja 'ave in mind?"

Zoltan holds up his hands and moves them in handsign, "All Knights I know talk like this … except for Champion of Sound. I not going to talk when I in armor if I can help it." The lack of a fourth finger hinders his signing somewhat, but Zoltan's fingers seem experienced enough to communicate.

The corsair tilts his head curiously. "Does 'e unnerstand Sign, iffen 'e hates Savanites so much?"

"He should." The hipppogryph's voice gets softer. "He served on a ship that transported slaves for awhile … until he blew it up."

Kensington fidgets a little, toying a pin on his vest. "So… yer gonna approach yer father, who's prob'ly 'eavily armed, hates Savanites, the Temple, and knights… disguised in a knight's armor, and speakin' to him in Savanite Sign?"

"Ye better 'ope that armor's mighty thick, me bucko," caws the Korv.

Zoltan nods. "I'm not taking my actions lightly, Kensington. Not lightly at all. If you and Wynona are with me, he should let me speak my peace at the very least. He and Wynona served together on the Lele Papu. I can't believe that he's so far gone that he wouldn't at least lend me an ear. If I come to him as his son … he might lie to me, he might not listen to me, or worse … he might think me more an enemy than a Knight or a Savanite or anything else he can dream up. We … didn't part on the best of terms."

"Well, ye'll know yer poppa better'n anyone else," replies Kensington. "If anyone's gonna bring 'im back, it's you. Wi' any luck, Wynona'll give 'im some pause, an' ye can getcher words in." He raises his beak a few degrees, and gives a slightly subdued version of one of his trademark cackles. "An' I'll be around t'pull ye out o' th' fire! Hah! We gotta good record, Zoltan. I betcha this is mad 'nuff t'work."

"I've got faith in the Star. I think the armor was delivered to me for this purpose, it's served me well so far after all." Zoltan puts the gunblade away gently, almost reverantly. "Just keep an eye on Wynona. I'm sure the Progenator's visions have only made her more upset… Hmmm, that does make me wonder… "

Kensington rubs the back of his neck. "Aye, might've … but we're 'eaded toward where ye saw th' magic glow wit' th' Champion's visor, aye? She wants t'go there anyway … an' iffen she can works 'er witchery, she might settle down."

The Vartan taps his talong against his beak. "I don't know much about magic… in fact most Vartans hate it, but I wonder if Wynona could do a ritual that might use up all of the magic in the Himar pit. If it's not connected to Sinai there might be a limited amount. Hrrr… now the trouble would be convincing her drain all of the magic out of the only magical place on this planet… "

"Heh, we're gettin' into territory I don't knows nothin' about," replies the corsair. "Ye'd 'ave t'talk to her on th' spot t'finds that out."

Zoltan nods. "I think I will. At the very least, I could hold Herbir's forces off while you and Wynona stir things up a bit… I've been through one of her storms; she can conjure up a doozie if she doesn't sneeze. Even if I change Herbir's mind, it doesn't mean that the rest of his army will be willing to go along with him. Bah… I wonder if it's some kind of bad omen when two blacks are together."

Kensington waggles a wing casually. "Th' rest o' Herbir's men'll be too tied up fightin' th' forces what're comin' fer the Pit anyway. Th' Silent-Ones, Knights, an' Imperials are headin' for it, aren't they? On'y the Imperials are bein' sidetracked by the dome… Well, maybe that won't take long."

"If the Titan things you mentioned break down near the Pit … that will probably slow the Savanites down, or leastwise make them wary of it. The knights are too few in number and I think are staying uninvolved in this whole thing. Right now it seems like a race between the Confederates, and the humans… although I wish I had thought to ask more about that 'Winged Citadel' that the captain mentioned." The Vartan rests his chin in his cupped hand as he stares at a spot in the wall.

The Korv rubs his lower beak thoughtfully. "Hmm… well, if Titans don't works in th' Pit, it stands t'reason Herbir an 'is men're stuck usin' normal weapons too. Heh, swords and bows I kin deals with!"

"That reminds me. Remember when we were on Sinai and had met the Confederates for the first time? None of them had bug weapons, and the general mentioned a treaty… I think I know what broke that treaty." Zoltan exhales sharply and lies back down. "I'm wondering how much damage killing the Progenitor caused. Maybe if the Confederates are told that he's dead they might decide to just fly back home. Times like this I wish I could see like the Champion of Amber did… I have so many questions, like what happened in that Citadel we found with all the empty suits of armor, and whether or not this planet was able to support life better. What good is having one little patch of fertile land if it gets destroyed and poisoned by war like the rest of this planet seems to have been?"

Kensington snorts. "Bah, ain't none o' our business 'ow they run their planet, 'ere," he rasps, hopping back to perch on his bunk again. He folds his wings behind himself. He grudgingly adds, "Though if it'll 'elp us t'get them t'stop fightin', that'd make things easier. Why d'ya think the truce fell apart?"

"Because every side blames the other for what happened. The Confederates claimed the Silent-Ones had done something, the Silent-Ones blamed the Confederates, and whomever it was in those pits seemed rather indiscriminate at who they shot at. I think they blame each other for the men they lost here and for what happened… and now they all want a piece of Himar." Zoltan squirms a bit on the floor. "It's big enough to share… but they've been fighting fo so long that they don't know how to begin."

The corsair nods wearily. "Hurr. Dunno if it can be helped widda fight this deep. They might not make peace until they all 'ave to. Th' Confederates might not 'ave a choice, now that th' Progenitor is dead. The others'll be more'n willing t'take advantage, though."

"I agree that this is too big for us to hope to heal the battle. My only hope is to take the people that don't belong in it out, like Herbir. Maybe showing that it's possible to just walk away from a war and leave it behind you will be enough of a start." The Vartan sighs loudly. "I miss my children."

Kensington nods and rasps, "Aye, we kin on'y hope. Stiff upper beak, mate. Keep writin' 'em notes. Like yer Champion says, ye'll see 'em soon enough… and when ye do, ye kin bring 'em some Abaddon steel trinkets, eh? Don't think Abaddon'd miss it, heh, heh."

"If we pulls this off, I'm bringin' so much metal back, I kin plates me ship widdit. Maybe I kin catch one o' those metal Imperial birds!" The Korv's eyes glitter.

Zoltan suddenly bursts out laughing. "Pouncer isn't going to believe me when I tell her about how Daddy gished the big bug brain!" He coughs. "She … um … likes to squish bugs, a lot. She keeps a collection."

Kensington gives Zoltan a strange look, then a quirky little grin. "Well, ye squished th' mother offem all. Ye'll 'ave stories t'tell, an then some!"

The Vartan half-closes his eyes. "I just hope that their grandfather will be there to tell them some stories as well." He yawns.

The Korv adjusts his perch on his bunk, settling in amongst the rough blankets and the flat pillow. "We'll be findin' out soon enough, eh? Best t'rest up 'fore then. I wunner if I'll know all this stuff Doctor Shreega 'taught' me come th' morning."

Zoltan closes his eyes. "I hope you still remember how to speak Vartan… It's nice not having to hurt my beak on Standard."

Kensington snickers to himself. "Just don't ask me t'speak Eeee anymore." Even the day's events can't really keep him awake much longer, and he tucks his beak into his plumage to begin slowly nodding off.

The Vartan follows the Korv into slumber soon afterwards.