A merchant ship drifts far above the forested lands, approaching the great red plateau that towers above them.

Zoltan peers down from the railing of the ship as he checks through his supplies in his pack. He's been quiet for most of the trip, spending most of the time going through his camping supplies over and over… or just staring out at the ground below.

It's daybreak, and the great rock lights up as if on fire … then settles down to a dull rusty hue. The ship drifts closer to its exotic stopover, its cobalt spheres bearing the family crest of a neutral merchant trader. As the ground slowly scans past, some activity can be seen far below … an encampment at the base of the red cliff. There are many glints of light off of the camp, indicating the presence of many shiny things. Perhaps a mining operation at the base of the cliffs?

The Vartan tightens up the straps to his pack and wrestles it across his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a moment and focuses on his father, hoping perhaps that thinking of him might help him find him.

Plumes of smoke – no, steam – rise from the encampment. There are several bright flashes of light, followed by more puffs – this time probably smoke. Moments later, some popping noises reach the ears of the Vartan.

Zoltan's eyes shoot open and he looks for the source of the noise.

A few crewmembers scurry to the railing to watch as well … as something very large rises from the mining camp. It looks for all the world like a giant vermite … except that from its mouth and several tubes on its back gush forth white clouds of steam and black clouds of smoke. The megavermite slowly and deliberately raises a great talon … and digs it into the rusty face of the cliff. Then another.

The black Vartan's hands dig into the railing as he almost leaps over the edge to pursue the creature… but he pauses. Is it attacking anyone or just… digging?

Several people seem to be scattering about, abandoning the mining camp, but the giant pest seems intent only upon the rock of the cliff. It digs in again, and slowly pulls itself upward, belching steam and smoke with every movement. More claws dig in, as it fastens itself securely to the cliff face … then repeats the process. Slowly but surely, it is scaling the great cliff!

( Well, this was my stop anyway… ) Zoltan nods to the other crewmen and leaps over the edge of the ship, flying in to investigate the creature a bit closer…

As Zoltan leaps off of the airship, his shadow can be spotted quite some distance away on the cliff face, as if a second black bird had jumped there as well.

Except … the sun isn't behind Zoltan right now. That IS a second black bird leaping off the cliff!

He pauses in his flight, almost dazed, then Zoltan dives down as fast as he can manage without smashing into the cliffside.

Down, down … it's not hard to go fast when you're going down. The rapid descent makes things much clearer now. The "mining camp" seems to be almost entirely populated by very large lupines, the rest of it taken up by unwieldy-looking machines of chitin, wood and precious steel. The giant vermite is no different – just a gargantuan construction, positively crawling with an army of the furry barbarians, hammering away at it constantly.

The other black avian, meanwhile, dives as well … and disappears into a wooded copse some distance from the base of the cliffs.

Zoltan's eyes follow the path of the other bird franticly, then he looks back to the big mechanized bug. He growls to himself and tries to perch on a crack close enough to the bug to be heard if he shouted.

A crack very close to the projected path of the bug is easy enough to find. Guarantee of being heard over the cacophony of this monstrous contraption is another matter entirely. As for the vanished bird … nothing can be seen of him, except that for a moment the Vartan's keen eyes pick out some movement through a gap in the trees … but it turns out to be a wagon borne by Drokars, hastily making its way along one of the woodland roads.

"HEY!" Zoltan shouts at the pack of wolves riding the bug. "You need help?"

Then, a black feathered form bursts up through the treeline, and back up toward the clifftop. The avian soon vanishes from sight as it shoots over the top of the steep rock wall.

Alas, the voice of the Vartan is lost amidst the great din. It's a wonder these Titanians aren't deaf. Then again, maybe they ARE.

Zoltan smacks his fist against the wall angrily and then jumps from his perch. He flies up towards the top of the cliff in pursuit of the other bird.

The red rock skims past, as the powerful wings of the black Vartan bear him upward. A few of the Titanians now notice him, but the way they wave their hammers around could just as easily be a friendly greeting as anything hostile. In any case, that bug is no match for the Vartan's pace.

The cliff is crested … and before the Vartan is a black avian perched at the top. He has a white handkerchief in his bill, fluttering in the wind … a sign used among some traders to indicate intentions of peace. The bill the rag is attached to belongs to a Korv.

The black Vartan shoots up across the side of the cliff. "FA-… !" he pauses in mid squawk, hovering in the air when he gets a good look at the Korv.

The Korv tries to say something through a clenched beak, but doesn't manage it. He takes a wingbeat to remove the handkerchief from his beak before continuing. "Stand… er… hover fast and be recognized! An' make it snappy, 'fore that vermite thing gets up 'ere! I be a busy bird, an we 'ave t'warn them ships o'er yonder!"

Landing solidly on the cliffside the Vartan peers over its edge at the mechanical bug, trying to judge how long before it reaches the top. "I am Baron Zoltan Cambio from Rephidim. I here in search of someone." he points over the cliffside. "That thing. It dangerous?"

More puffs of smoke float upward … but the megavermite is not even a quarter way up the cliff yet. And probably a fair deal less than that.

"It's fulla Titanians. Iffen that ain't dangerous, I dunno what be," replies the Korv. He glides down, and lands as well, sloppily tucking his handkerchief back in his vest pocket. "Captain St. Germain, atcher service, though I go by 'Kensington', 'The Cutlass', or 'Ye Bloodthirsty Bastard' as well, har, har… " He takes a turn at peering at the megavermite as well. "Ain't makin' good time, I s'pose."

On further inspection, saying the megavermite was even a quarter way up the cliff would be far too generous. It might make the journey in a day, if it continues its present pace. To anyone knowledgeable of the reliability of Titanian engineering, that would be a generous estimate.

Zoltan's face remains expressionless. "How is ships in danger? Big bug thing going to attack them?" He looks around at the landscape, his eyes darting across the skies.

The only airship presently visible would be a merchant ship with cobalt blue envelopes, slowly gliding high above the Himarian landscape.

Kensington rubs the bottom of his beak thoughtfully, feeling at the scores and grooves. "Can't rightly say. When I first laid eyes onnit, I was liable ta think 'twere gonna rip the cliff side right out, an' go through it. Y'shouda seen 'em flyin' o'er th' Himaat. I figger they gots all sortsa rockets an' steam-things an' whatchamahoozits, so there's no tellin' what they'll do next."

The Vartan shrugs his pack across his shoulders. "Is just another bunch of crazies in here then. From what I understands, they lots around here." He walks away from the cliffside and moves to look out at the expanse of red sand around him. "I looking for a black Vartan, he look like me… but older. You seen?"

Somewhere across the red expanse of sand, a ball of flame rises up from a far ravine, then dissipates into smoke. A moment later, a low boom can be heard.

The corsair studies Zoltan carefully. "Can't say as I have, bucko. I been followin' this fleet o' lubbers for days, an' I'd think I'd remember seein' a great big thunderhead like you. Is 'e a sailor, then?"

Kensington jumps at the boom, and jerks his head around to look at the smoke where the airburst occured.

A few tendrils of smoke drift lazily up from the ravine … and then a staccato "pakapakapaka" noise echoes off of the rocks. There are a few more flashes, though none of them even close to matching the intensity of the first burst.

Zoltan winces at the Korv's words. "Yes. Couple of years ago, but no anymore. Not since Lele Papu went down over Himaat." His feathers bristle at the noise amd his wings uncurl. "I going to go looking for him… gots a map of the area. You can come with if you likes… but… hrrr… it probably no very safe."

"Pah! Safe!" Harsh cackling reverberates off the rocks, and Kensington tosses his head. "Baron, iffen my life really twere safe, I'd look ta end it! Seein' as th' musclebound 'airballs look like they're gonna 'ave their tails docked down there fer a while, maybe I kin earn a lil' supper an' some change." He coughs. "I'm… kinda tired o' trail mix."

The Vartan allows a smile to finally fall upon his beak. "Food I gots plenty of. Was hoping offering some to people here might help me find out where… person I lookings for is. Just follow me and I makes sure you belly full tonight." He starts to dig through his pack.

Kensington caws, "Right! *Rawk!* Ne'er 'as th' Cutlass' blade been bought so cheaply. … Eh, but what th' Dagh." He waves a wing over the edge of the cliff. "Me tracker'll stick with th' Titanians, I'm sure… I just gotta make sure I'm back an' about when they be on th' move again."

Zoltan pulls out what looks like a strange amber bowl and ties it to his head with a piece of white cloth. It makes for a strange looking hat. He pulls the 'rim' down over his eyes, looks around, and then pushes it back up again. "You gots about a day then… which mean we no gots much time. If you ready to fly, let's go now."

The sounds from over the ridge have stopped, though the din caused by the Titanians still comes up the cliff face. Still, there are plenty of wisps of smoke rising from the distant ravine, giving plenty of indication as to the location of the fireworks earlier.

The corsaire eyes the strange hard hat with bemusement. "Lead on," he caws, keeping his comments to himself. "An' tell me a lil' 'bout what we be dealin' with on th' way."

Rubbing his eyes, the Vartan nods and unfurls his wings. With one leap he's airborne and slowly flying out across the sands.

Kensington follows along unhurriedly. He considers suggesting the shallow slash on the Vartan's chest be dressed… "'Eh, but 'e looks like 'e kin takes care o' hisself."

The sands skim by underneath. Here and there can be seen craters and cracks in the rocky ground. Further inward, there can be seen twisted hulks of ruined machines … ruined METAL machines … though just as many seem to be fashioned with pieces of ceramic or chitinous materials or something along those lines. It's not a pretty sight, exactly … except when one imagines just how much that much metal would be WORTH.

The flight is momentarily uneventful, until a cry can be heard from one of the ravines in some unintelligible tongue.

The pirate's eyes glitter at the sight. "'Ey, 'ey! Avast, Baron! Lookit all that! What's they heaps o' money doin' just lyin' out there?! More t'the point, 'ow much can we carry 'tween us?"

Zoltan continues pulling the strange visor over his eyes and looking around now and again, pulling it off and repeating the process with his bare eyes. "I been told that there mages here… and also people find weapons and armor that they using against each other." he scrawks. "Some Vartans show me what they find when I in Rephidim… is amazing to-" he stops at the sound of the shout and angles his flight towards it.

Kensington cocks his head curiously, both at the story and odd activity with the visor. He banks to stay crisply in formation, watching for the source of the noises.

Something flies from the direction of the shout. It's small, cylindrical, with a conical nose, and flames shooting out of its far side. In a way, it looks reminiscent of the bizarre Wyrms that Zoltan saw in a faraway land, only without wings anywhere so large – just small fins. It seems to be moving fairly quickly, and might hurt a lot of one were to collide with it.

The Vartan points downwards in the direction that the firey thing came from and then dives down towards the ravine.

The corsaire rolls in the air to follow Zoltan's steep descent, tucking his wings back to gain speed.

The cylinder sails past … and some distance along, it starts to sputter and cough … then drops out of the air like a rock. When it hits the ground, it imbeds itself in the sand nose-first. A moment later, it bursts into a sphere of flame and bright light, leaving a blackened crater.

From the ravine, there come more of those "pok pok pok" popping noises. It sounds familiar, actually. Like the Rephidim firing range, or … A bullet wizzes past. Yep, that's gunfire.

Kensington caws, "What, by Gretchen's grindin' gear-grease was… awk!" The zinging bullet interrupts him for a moment.

Zoltan squawks loudly and changes the direction of his dive, aiming this time to land at the edge of the ravine and out of the attackers' view.

The Korv follows suit, zigging and zagging his way down to land nearby. One of Kensington's sabers makes a melodious singing noise as it's quickly drawn.

A couple of gunshots stubbornly crack against the rocky wall of the ravine, but they soon stop, as the attackers apparently decide to stop wasting ammunition. There's a momentary silence … broken by the sounds of high-pitched, avian screeches from behind.

Zoltan pulls a packet of food out and tosses it down over the edge of the ravine. "Hello?" he scrawks. "Any of you speak Standard?" He makes a few squawking noises as well, repeating the question in Vartan.

Kensington watches incredulously. Those people tried to shoot him, and the Vartan's throwing food at them? "Whatcha tryin' ta do? Knock one out wi' a really big sausage?"

The screeches belong to several fliers coming from over the ridge. They appear to be converging upon this ravine … and they appear to be an armored squad comprised of Vartans, Eeee, and other winged humanoids. It's kind of hard to make out, but the dialect used sounds a bit Vartan. It kind of suggests the word "Charge." With a lot of exclamation put behind it, that is. There are more shouts from within the ravine, and barking and howling noises, with much scuffling around.

"The people here is starved… they might be willing to listen if… " he stops talking at the sight of the charging army and makes a dash off to the side.

"Ye wanna tell me whose side we be on?" rasps the corsaire. "I-… " He leaps off to the other side, swearing loudly in Bosch.

As the two avians get out of the way, the charging squad flies over the ravine … dropping several heavy objects inside. There are a few flashes and cracks, and many yowling noises. More "pok pok pok" noises emit from the ravine, and a few more "flying cylinders" as well. Several flashes and small explosions follow, and some of the avians fall from the sky, crashing into the sand. By the smoke rising from the ravine, they can't be doing too well in THERE, either.

Zoltan glances over his shoulder as he runs, trying to see if one of the fighters might be about his height, and might have black feathers…

Nope. MAYBE there could be one … but not any that Zoltan can see. The avians and bats all appear to be wearing some sort of uniform, though they appear to be rather patched together and mended far too many times to be parade-worthy.

"What in th' blinkin' world?" The corsaire stares at Zoltan's retreating form, and hurries to keep up. "What're ye doin'? Ye'll ne'er find anyone in a fight just by jumpin' in an' lookin'!"

The Vartan stops running, sets his beak, and starts running in the OTHER direction. He scans the sands for any of the wounded forms on the ground that appear to still be alive.

In but a few moments, the fracas is over. The fliers retreat, leaving smoke in their wake, a few of them swooping down to pick up some of their wounded. Several are left, however, as their would-be rescuers retreat under hail of gunfire from the ravine.

A gray-feathered Vartan is sprawled in the sand, wounded more by the fall than the shot he received in mid-air, it looks. But he's still alive, for now.

Kensington gives up trying to talk sense, and merely keeps an eye out for danger. "A few of 'em still kickin'? Ye might be able ta wring some questions outta them."

Zoltan rushes up to the fallen Vartan and gently picks them up. "I think these soldiers… although the uniform no mean anything to me." He glances over his shoulder at the Korv. "I no supposed to know any healing, do you?"

As Zoltan picks up the wounded Vartan, he sees an emblem on the uniform. It looks familiar. Something the Vartan saw some time ago … though at the time, it was carved into chitin. Onto a Plaguebringer, to be exact.

The Korv shakes his head, sheathing his sword. "Not anythin' like I know about hurtin'. Gimme some o' thet food, an' maybe I can talk the lubbers in th' ravine inta helpin' out."

The winged warrior lets out a pained noise, and a curse in a heavily accented Vartanese.

Zoltan shakes his head. "They was fighting each other. I think… hrr… let's just find safe place to go in case folks in ravine start shooting little boomers at us again." He squawks something to the Vartan in his arms and starts walking in the direction the fliers went.

Kensington falls into step, shaking his head. "An' I thought Forbidden Zones twere odd."

"This IS a Forbidden Zone," the black hippogryph scrawks in reply. "Rephidim just no has officcially named it one yets."

The un-used sabre finds itself back in its scabbard. "Huh. I shoulda knowed," snorts its owner. "I hopes it don't make me all loopy likes e'eryone else 'ere."

Zoltan pulls his strange 'hat' back down over his eyes. "Is no sure. Place give weird feelings, but not like I ever see before."

Some walking later – much slower going than by wing – the two avians crest the ridge that the airborne soldiers had dived behind … and they find an encampment surrounded by barbed barricades, sandbags and angled spikes that would seem most appropriate for defending against mounted cavalry. Hunkered down in the encampment are several avians of various species … all heavily armed … all watching the two strangers. This might be a tense moment.

The black hippogryph takes a step forward and squawks something loudly. He hefts the wounded Vartan in his arms.

The pirate looks over the encampment from the top of the ridge with his wings folded.

The winged warriors look to each other, then gesture to the two strangers. More scrawking is exchanged.

Zoltan quirks an eyebrow and nods. "Kensington, follow behind me. They gots things buried in ground they no wants us to step on… and… hrr… try no to look very dangerous." He starts to walk down a zigzagged path towards the camp, wincing at every step he takes.

Kensington sets his feet to wherever the Vartan last stepped. "Well, alright… " rasps the scruffy corvid. "But it be pretty hard fer me ta not look dangerous… har, har… "

The two strangers are escorted into a bunker, where a frazzled-looking Vartan with a patch over one eye looks over a map table. He looks up at the approach of the strangers, and exchanges some scrawks with a couple of Eeee soldiers.

The wounded soldier is taken from Zoltan, and tended along with the others that took some hits in the last fight.

Kensington surveys the tent. Oblivious to anything being said, he contents himself with peering about, and trying to make out the map from where he's standing.

The black hippogryph puts a hand on his chest and scrawks, "Zoltan Cambio." He gestures to the Korv behind him. "Kensington." And then he starts scrawking in Vartan again.

The map shows a few features of rock that look familiar enough to indicate the surrounding area. However, the area extends quite some distance, and doesn't show any indication of the cliffs at all, though it has some features indicated beyond – none of which hint at the woods, either.

The one-eyed Vartan scrawks something to Zoltan, and nods to both of the visiting avians, then shakes his head, scrawking something else.

The Korv looks up as his name is said, but not understanding anything else, he just nods. ( This always worked in the schoolhouse back in Chronotopia. )

Zoltan scratches his head and gives Kensington a pained look. "They at war… or something. Hrr… this very strange." He turns back around and whistles sharply, punctuating his words with several short scrawks.

"Hah! War I knows all about." The corsaire thumps his chest with one wing-ridge.

"Well… some kinds, at least," he sniffs. "None o' this sloggin' in th' mud bilge."

The one-eyed Vartan makes a hissing noise, then scrawks something back to Zoltan, shaking his head.

One of the Eeee looks curiously at the Korv, then squeak-scrawks something to Zoltan.

Kensington looks down his beak back at the eeee, furrowing his brow and feeling not unlike a Rughrat chop being perused in a shop.

Sighing, Zoltan chirps something in reply… then stops in mid sentance. He looks back at Kensington, then to the mark on his chest, then to the Vartan and his two companions. He puts a hand to his face and squawks something softly.

"Eh? What? What izzit now, bucko?" The Korv's crest feathers stick up oddly, as if the plumage on his head had just been mussed.

Something is said about "Rephidim" in the exchange that follows, and the one-eyed Vartan shakes his head, giving Zoltan a curious look, and making some waving gestures with his taloned hands.

"Is nothing like that, Kensington. Hrr… the bits of metal and things you see outside, is no look anything like whats you ever see on Sinai, does it?" the black hippogryph scrawks.

The corsaire shades his head. "Nay, tisn't the likes of anythin' I never seen. I'd wager I could buy meself a tidy lil' airship and live th' rest o' me life on one or two o' those heaps o' scrap."

Zoltan stares at the map for a good long moment and then shakes his head. "Exiles… "

Looking up, the Baron points outside the door and starts squawking at the others again.

Kensington narrows his eyes. "From thish yer Ferbidden Zone? I heard-… " He stops, and reflexively looks at the door.

Outside the door can be seen lots of sandbags, and lots of sand.

The Korv falls to scratching his crest. "Dagh. I'm startin' t'get a headache."

The one-eyed Vartan blinks a few times with his one good at at Zoltan. His expression might be read as if Zoltan had just finished saying that the ground had sprouted purple polka-dots and that Dagh liked to eat fuzzy marshmellows for breakfast.

Or something thereabouts.

Zoltan frowns and stamps his foot on the ground, pointing out the door again. He squawks again.

The one-eyed Vartan furrows his brow at Zoltan, then scrawks an order to one of the guards. The Eeee guard snaps to attention and squeaks in reply.

"Kensington." Zoltan says over his shoulder. "Can you see the infirmary from here?"

Kensington peers again. "Aye," he rasps, pointing a flight feather. "Iffen I'm any judge, that be it o'er there."

Zoltan nods and then squawks back at one-eye. He points in the direction Kensington indicated.

One-Eye shakes his head, scrawking something in the negative.

Zoltan nods and whistles something. He turns back to the Korv, "We leaving now, Kensington. Going to show the squeaker here what Himar look like, they think we someplace called 'lifedome'."

One of the Eeee guards follows behind Zoltan. He checks a metal flintlock pistol at his belt, and then holsters it securely, and nods at the Vartan. He squeaks something.

"Uhh… aye-aye, Baron." The perplexed crow replies. "Dunno how int'restin' sand is gonna be, but 'ey… "

Zoltan steps out of the tent, makes an 'after you' gesture up into the sky… and then leaps up into the air.

The threesome wing into the air … keeping clear of the ravine and any missiles or bullets that might emerge from it.

The Vartan keeps his eyes intently focused on the ground as he flies, only glancing upwards to make sure he's still headed in the right direction. "If you see any blackfeathers on the ground, Kensington… you lets me know."

Some flying later, the red desert drops away. A great wooded expanse spreads out below. The bat's jaw drops … and then he does as well. He makes a very loud squeak.

Zoltan lets out a very loud squawk in reply.

The bat dives over the cliff, careening down toward the woods! He lets out a long call … then a startled SHRIEK. He comes back up the cliff, shouting something that sounds like "MEKA!"

The Korv clacks his beak in alarm, then watches the eeee uncertainly. "Is thatta good thing orra bad thing, Zoltan?"

A few puffs of steam and smoke drift upward from the cliff face. Hammering and crunching and shouting noises can be heard from below.

"I think it means he met the Titanians." Zoltan scrawks in reply. He flies over to the Eee and whistles.

The Eeee collapses on the sand, scurrying behind a boulder for cover. He gasps for his breath.

Kensington circles overhead. "Well, I s'pose I'd 'ave that reaction iffen I saws Titanians fer th' first time too."

The Eeee, looking totally overwhelmed, just lies sprawled behind the boulder, eyes wide, gasping for breath. It's really hard to read his expression beyond that.

Zoltan flutters down to land next to the Eee. "I really hopes they no all act like this… although if enough of them fall on time of big metal vermite then it might fall off edge of cliff… "

The Eeee grabs at Zoltan in an act to pull the bird close … though the result is more to pull the bat up to the Vartan. He squeaks many things at a fast pace.

The Korv flutters down to land on the boulder, bending his knees to crane his head over for a glance at the eeee. "Well, mebbe. I dunno that we wants ta make the Titanians fall off, though. They're a-goin' someplace, an I aim t'track 'em there." He sniffs at the eeee. "Buck up, laddy. No needs fer all the squeakin' an' frothin'."

The Vartan looks sidelong at Kensington. "How you think you feel when you find out that place you thought was big land of home got pulled up and dropped on whole new world… is understandable that he excited." He grasps the Eee's shoulders and scrawks.

The Eeee nods several times, scrambles to his feet … and then flies back in the direction of the avian encampment.

Kensington flips a wing indifferently. "Eh, no-one sees fit ta tell me anythin' anyways. I'm startin' ta wonder, though… if the shaggy brutes cliffside 'ave sommin' ta do with all this. 'E wot 'ired me tol' me the Titanians be makin' a pilgrammage ta… awk? That squeaker's always inna rush, inne?"

"He's just goings to report, and I gots more flying to do. I try and explain whats I know along the way if you wants." Zoltan unfolds his wings again. "Who hire you?"

The pirate prepares to lift off as well. "Twasn't me concern, so's I didn't ask. Near as I kin tell, t'were a Chronotopian agency… they gotta lot tied up in th' wars, so's they get freelancers like meself. The Titanians ain't takin' normal tacks like before, so's the rack-heads're worried."

The Vartan takes to the air, this time circling off across the red sands. "From what I understands," he scrawks down at the Korv, "when Babelites dropped boomer on Himar, it got pieces of worlds and fling them around. I even got hit with one."

Taking the scenic route across the red sands, numerous craters and scars on the rocky desert can be seen. Almost as numerous are rusted hulks of war machines, scavenged for parts, as well as a few bones and bits of armor, and signs of old, abandoned fortifications. There are newer structures – hastily erected shanties – that look as if they have been abandoned more recently, and without the entrenched look of the avian encampment or whatever base is likely to be inside that ravine.

"Pieces o' world? Yer tweakin' me beak," scoffs Kensington. "How could anythin' do that?"

A couple of ashen Korvs scatter when they see the two avians flying by, abandoning a shanty erected next to a rusty wheeled vehicle. One of them drops a bag, and dives down to try to pick it up, but at last abandons it, anxious to get away from the approaching strangers.

Zoltan scrawks loudly, "Herbir! Cambio Herbir!" then a bit softer to the Korv, "Is no sure… I just know what I sees." he runs a finger across the mark on his chest. "And what I feels, although how I survived is beyond me."

The Korvs don't respond to the Vartan's cries, instead doing their best to make wing out of there, and presumably toward the edge of the plateau. They don't wear any sort of uniform – just patched work clothes with lots of pouches stuffed with bits of metal that occasionally shake free in their haste to flee. Nonetheless, they probably have enough to be quite wealthy. Quite wealthy, that is, until the market gets flooded by such riches as these!

The black-feathered corsaire exchanges glances with Zoltan, and shrugs his wings in mid-flight. "I be cloud-hopper, I don't pretend ta unnerstand everythin' I sees, so I guess it don't matter." He peers at the scattering rag-tag squatters. "Hmm. Didna know me reputation got this far."

Zoltan chuckles and flies onward. "Just keep you eyes peeled… "

The pirate nods, and keeps watch. "Think we could pins down one o' those fellows an' ask 'im about yer missin' person?"

A little further is what looks like a small fortress composed of battered plates of steel from wrecked vehicles, leaned against each other and patched together. Emblazoned upon one of the larger faces is a rune that looks somewhat like a simple "diamond", except that one side is broken. By the looks of it, this "fortress" has been in place for a very long time, its sand-blasted sides attesting to great storms. The Korvs are most certainly NOT heading in that direction, though.

"That no sound like a bad idea, Kensington." Zoltan flips around and tries to catch up with the fleeing Korvs.

The two pursuing avians have a certain advantage … they aren't weighed down by as much metal as they can possibly carry.

Kensington goes oddly quiet for a moment, as if deep in thought. He seems to be muttering something to himself, and then his expression softens into one of minor revelation. "Harrr… " He gives Zoltan a strange, unreadable look, but caws, "Aye," and puts on a burst of speed to keep pace.

After a bit of pursuit, it is evident that the Korvs are about to be overtaken. They caw at each other, then split up, flying low to the ground, one heading one way, one heading the other.

Without any sort of agreement, Kensington simply splits off to follow the the nearest one. "Avast, I say! Lower th' sails, alls I want is ta talk to ye."

Zoltan swerves off after Kensington, giving his wings an extra burst of speed to try and get ahead of the fleeing Korv.

The Korv gives a confused caw up to Kensington. "Wot? You speak STANDARD!" Korv Number Two, meanwhile, makes a panicked attempt at outmaneuvering Zoltan, but instead swings too low to the ground, his satchel laden with metal … and ends up eating sand (and spitting it out) as he skids into the ground.

The Vartan lands, walking up to the Korv. "I no here to steal you metal. Just have some questions… which I willing to trade food to get answers."

Kensington replies in a similarly scratchy tone. "Aye! An Bosch too, iffen that's yer choice. Stand at ease, mate, I wants t'ave a word with ye."

"Food?" caws the sandy Korv. "I'll have PLENTY of food once I sell these shinies in Rephidim!"

The other Korv, sporting a red bandanna about his head, flutters to a landing. "Awright, awright! Thought you were gonna drop fireballs on us! You wanna piece o' the stash? Hey, we can share… "

Zoltan shakes his feathers out. "I just want to know one thing… have you seen Vartan that looks like me around here anywheres? He go by name of Herbir."

"I'd lay a bet on that!" laughs Kensington. "There be more metal out here'n I seen in my life! 'Ow'd ye find this out? It's amazin'!"

Kensington pauses for a moment, and adds, "An' whatsis about fireballs?"

"Fireballs!" caws the bandanna crow. "Spellcasting Vartans – Who would have thought? They drop fiery death from the sky!"

The sandy Korv, meanwhile, shakes his head at Zoltan. "I've seen lots of Vartans – that's how I found about this place – but I don't know any Herbir. Hang around here long enough and I'm sure he'll show. Too many shinies for ANY Vartan to pass up!"

"The boomer thing they shot at us from ravine, Kensington." Zoltan scrawks. He nudges one of the Korvs and points in the direction of the strange castle. "What abouts that place? You see anyone come from there?"

Kensington creases his brow ridge. "Spellcastin' Vartans. I… ohhhh."

The sandy Korv caws, "Yeah! A bunch of armored toughs, Vykarins and some spotty slaves. Don't go NEAR there!"

The bandanna-wearing Korv says, "That emblem on the side? That's the sign for FIRE. And for good reason!"

The corsaire frowns around the corners of his beak. "Sounds likes it be more trouble'n it's worth. Besides… summin's comin' back to me now. It's been naggin' me fer a while." He eyes Zoltan. "Herbir Cambio… what's this fellow mean to ye?"

Zoltan rubs his head. "Hrrr. The Champion said he was here and no here. So far I just seeing lots and lots of the no." He takes a few steps towards the castle until it's in his line of sight and then pulls down his 'visor' to look at it.

"He's my father." the hippogryph replies quietly. "And he very sick. I want to help him."

Kensington rubs his lower beak thoughtfully. "'E is, is 'e? Well, I'll be. When I heard th' name at first, I didn't think nothin' o' it… but after a while, summin fell inta place. Was yer Herbir a dead shot wi' a crossbow? Defended ships from privateers, an' moved some … uh… funny merchandise?"

Rubbing his eyes again, the Vartan unties his 'hat' and carefully places it in his pack. "He was a murderer and a pirate, you no gots to be subtle abouts it." His bright violet eyes study the Korv. "Where did you hear abouts Cambios Herbir?"

"Well, I be a pirate meself," rasps the Korv. "Or was, at least. I 'eard about this Cambio. Was s'posed t'ave died in an explosion o'er the Himaat. E'en if 'e survived it, I dunno 'ow he woulda lived there. Fer all I heard 'bout 'im, I never heard 'e was a pirate. Just heard pirates were ta steer clear."

Zoltan starts walking out across the sands. "I thought he die when I just a chick… then I hear that he was on the Lele Papu that blow up. And then several months ago I gets told he alive, and he out here somewhere, and I can save him."

Meanwhile, the bandanna Korv and the sandy Korv seem intent upon gathering up some more of their shinies … and scooting away while the twosome appear to have lost interest in them.

Kensington just takes enough time to call after the other Korv, "Careful out there, mates. And save some swag fer me!" He sniggers, and then regards Zoltan again. "Out here? In th' Himar an' not th' Himaat?"

The Vartan nods his head, opens up his wings and regards the skies. "The Champion of Amber say he was in Himar, and not Himar… and this place fit that description better than any other place I know."

The corsaire massages his temples. "Well, 'least now I knows why ye were mutterin' 'bout Exiles back there. I heard tell 'twas one o' them what set th' envelope ablaze. 'Course, it 'ad a lotta ways of bein' told."

Zoltan doesn't say anything in reply, he just jumps up into the air and starts his search again.

Kensington draws one of his toes around in the reddish sand thoughtfully, thinking back to the crystal tower in the Forbidden Zone he'd passed through before. "I, uh… guess it be a lil' uncomfortable fer ye ta talk about. Sorry, bucko, didn't mean ta. Say, how 'bout … uhh… this sand? Ever seen anythin' like… awk!" He flaps his wings hurriedly to launch as well as the Vartan starts climbing.

The two Korvs slip away. The "Fortress of Fire" is kept at a safe (?) distance off to the right, as the two avians head roughly along a northwesterly path deeper into the area on the top of the plateau.

"There one thing I know pretty much for sure." Zoltan scrawks as he searches. "Whatever happening here, it gots nothing to do with magic."

More hunks of junk litter the ground, though with less frequency. The craters, likewise, are less frequent. As the Fortress is passed, a flag can be seen flapping in the breeze, suspended high above a tower in its center. It bears a four-pointed silver star on a black field, superimposed upon a red diamond-shape like that on the outer walls of the fortress. No fire comes forth from the fortress to consume the fliers.

Kensington glides alongside, his sash trailing in the breeze. "Nothin' ta do wit' magic? Looks t'me likes it gots everythin' ta do wit' magic. Metal houses, flyin' tubes what explode, pieces o' "world" flying aroun', and a place what looks like th' surface o' Abaddon… " The Korv looks briefly pleased with himself, for some reason. "If that ain't magic, I dunno what be."

The Vartan glides onward. "I gots a feel for magic things. Been training and practicing… and I know what magic looks like. Here it like a big cloud. Is almost like it all gots sucked away from land."

The corsaire whistles long and low. "So ye really kin shoot fireballs? Oh, wait, the tubes. Right. Well, if alls this don't be magic… issit just a Ferbidden Zone kinda thing? I was in one, once… went all th' way through, ye know." Again, the Korv looks pleased.

Zoltan keeps scanning the ground, looking for any sign at all. "No too sure. Hrr… which Forbidden Zone you fly though? Not Aeztepa I hopes… "

"Some big swirly storm in th' Himaat," rasps Kensington, watching the sands. "Th' Titanians went through it on their sleds, an' I followed. I still don't knows fer th' life o' me why they went through, an' not around. They didn't once stop. An' they didn't explode, like my guide said they would."

"Last time I was in Himaat I almost sink in sands, and then get fed Nobakihm fish that make me sick." The Vartan pulls out a scroll and looks over it, then alters his course just a bit. "Herbir! Cambio Herbir! Where are you?" he shouts.

The Vartan's cries carry across the plain, and there is little to make any sort of echo. Nothing stirs in response, save for a wind that blows gusts of red sand on its way to pour over the distant cliffs.

Kensington rasps, "Ye know, he might've been taken into that fortress back there. Iffen 'e was as good a shot as I 'eard, they mighta 'ad a use fer 'im."

Zoltan growls and starts flying harder, as if he were beating the air with his wings out of spite. "No sure abouts that. He no likes Savanites. He kill whole shipfull once."

The Korv sweeps his wings in heavier strokes to keep up. "A whole ship o' 'em, eh? Why would 'e do that iffen he worked so 'ard ta defend 'em from th' likes o' me?"

Ahead, there are several large fissures in the desert, visible as jagged black lines. There's a large, irregular pit as well, and a few more here and there.

Kensington eyes them warily. "They might be 'iding more musketmen," he warns.

The Baron nods, acting as though he never heard the Korv's earlier question. He alters his flight to take him around the pit, but close enough that his eyes might still be able to make out anyone that might be inside.

No bullets whisk past. No more encampments or any such thing here. As for the pit … it descends down into darkness, far too wide to have been dug by mundane means.

Zoltan calls his father's name out again.

The pit is wide enough to swallow a whole Rephidim city block, its shape a jagged, irregular form that seems to have been cookie-cut into the rock. The name of Cambio Herbir echoes within the walls of the pit – the echoes providing the only answer to the Vartan's call.

Kensington eyes the crevasse this way and that. "Never saws a ravine quite like thissun, afore," caws the pirate. He climbs higher and higher into the sky to get an idea of the full picture of the odd geographical feature.

The hole in the ground seems like random, jagged cuts in the rock. But far, far below, a glint of light reflected off of … water? … can be seen.

Zoltan circles down to land at the edge of the hole, he seems more tired than he should be.

Down the pit … far down … as far down as the cliffs would be … light reflects off of some water some distance below. Wind blows red dust past, where it swirls downward into the pit.

The Vartan sits at the edge of the hole and throws a stone down into it. "This probably where the boomer hit. Funny, it no look like the hole on Paradys… "

Time passes. Sploosh.

Kensington makes his way down as well, landing nearby. "Could well be. Kinda funny, though. Cannon shot makes craters. This looks more liken ta a crack." His thin, pointed tongue runs around the edges of his bill. "Iffen there's water down there, though… we might be able t'gets a drink. Flyin' around the desert's thirsty business, ye know."

A pebble is knocked loose upon the Korv's landing, and it tumbles over the side.

It falls. And falls. And then there is a rapping noise that echoes through the pit. Like a rock on wood.

Zoltan pulls himself to his feet. "I no sure if you could fly outs again if you went in. Is no much room to move around… although… hrr… " he scratches his chin. "If this only source of water here, I wonder if we more likely to meet up with Herbir if we waits here."

"'Ang on, then," caws Kensington, craning his neck to look over the edge. "Unless trees grow unnerground, there's summin' down there."

The Vartan peers down as well. "Is no sure. Nobody on surface here that I talks to seem to know where he is, so maybe he down there instead. But maybe I just going to end up stopping to look at every shiny pebble I find on ground and waste all my time. You Titanian friends going to be up here soon, and who knows what fliers up to now that they know they no in they Lifedome place anymores."

"Aye, that's true, Zoltan," muses Kensington. "So I'll just take one lil' scoop o' water, an' we'll call that even!" Without any ceremony, the Korv simply hops off the edge to begin circling his way down.

The walls of the pit are like the cliffs of the outside of the plateau … except that here it's more evident that the pit is sloping EVER so slightly in one direction. Still, for the most part, it's a vertical drop. At the very bottom, there is much sand piled up … but also several trees, a pool of water … and other than that, it's pretty dark down here, really.

A couple of trees are lying on their sides, cut lengthwise in nearly perfect slices, from trunk to top. Several sliced branches are lying on the ground and floating in the water as well.

Zoltan silently looks down after the Korv, and then flicks his eyes back up to the land to watch out for anyone that might be coming.

Nobody is to be seen across the barren landscape.

The Korv settles onto the sand, eyeing the water thirstily. "Ahhh… tisn't Wild Turkey Black, but it'll do. Hmm… " He tip his head back and shouts, "Hoy, Zoltan! Do ye 'ave a waterskin? I'll fill one up fer ye!" As he waits for a response, he casts a sidelong glance at the strangely split trees.

As the Korv's eyes adjust, he is able to see that not only the trees are strange, but that there is something up IN the trees. Wooden platforms with walls. Treehouses. Or parts thereof. They have collapsed along with the oddly split trees. One, however, still stands … half of a tree visible, standing up against the rocky wall of the pit, with the front facade of a treehouse, the rest of which disappears into solid rock.

Some abandoned pottery lies beside the pool, partially obscured with red sand. There are also some worn-out trousers lying on a rock, along with several other clothes laid out for wash … They, too, have accumulated some sand. There's also a sandy bank next to the pool … though the sand there is not red, but light and gritty … like sand would normally be in Himar.

Zoltan glares out that the nothingness and wipes his arm across his face. He hears Kensington's words float up from the pit and starts digging in his pack. "I no sure I gots an empty one… and I probably crack you head open if I drops one down there."

Kensington crouches by the pool to take a scoop of water into his beak, but stops, eyeing the discarded clothes on the rock. "Huh… that ain't Abaddon sand." (As he's come to call it.) He looks over at the intact treehouse, trying to see if anyone's looking out the window.

It's hard to see much from here in the dim light, but the treehouse does indeed have a glass window. It looks like a cottage stuck up in a tree … not some ramshackle thing for groundbound cubs built in the backyard of a minor noble.

Across the front, there are various odd items suspended here and there. A length of rope net hanging from the railing … a wooden captain's wheel from a naval or airborne vessel … a section of envelope fabric serving as an awning.

Reasoning that whomever's around has either already heard the shouting or the shouting hasn't mattered, the Korv calls up, "Zoltan! Hoist yerself down 'ere! Summin' ye might wanna see!"

"Coming!" the Vartan calls back, and then carefully glides down the hole after Kensington.

Down in the pit, Zoltan can pretty much see what Kensington did.

The banks of this pool, though, don't look like anything formed by some placid pond. Rather, they look like a riverbank … though the rushing waters no longer rush. Indeed, there is dry ground where sloshing river waters would have kept creating mud. Hoofmarks are visible in the dried ground, where they aren't covered by sprinklings of red sand from above.

The Korv smirks broadly at Zoltan, his wings crossed. "S'good thing I gotta unquenchable gullet, eh? E'en if this ain't whatcha be lookin' fer, I'd say there's a fair bet we kin get some news 'ere."

Zoltan looks around for something to burn as a torch, hoping to cast a bit more light into the pit. "Hrr… maybe."

There's plenty of wood. Plus, there's a lantern sitting up on the porch of the tree house.

The Vartan grins at the sight of the lantern. "I starting to think that Korv is good luck charm." He flutters up to the porch to snatch it up. "If you ever in Rephidim and need hand, you ask to speak to the Baron of Paradys over at Nicodemus' Shiny Shoppe."

The timbers of the porch creak slightly as they bear the weight of the Vartan, but despite the protest, they prove to be far more sturdy than they sound. The front door is very large, actually, and would easily accomodate the Vartan's frame. The lantern is an airman's lantern, complete with a built-in lighter – the sort the Vartan has had experience with on many an adventure.

"I lead a charmed life, me bucko," rasps the Korv, ambling over toward the treehouse. He looks up at it from the ground. "An' th' ladies seem ta find me charmin' too, har, har. Let's see iffen anybody's 'ome."

A sign hangs over the door, though it is unreadable in the darkness.

Zoltan works the lighting mechanism on the lantern and holds it up to the sign.

The sign reads, "Captain Herbir's Cabin," with an etching of an airship on one side, and a sky island on the other.

Kensington flaps his way up onto the porch, settling on it lightly. "Well, well, well." he rasps. "Strike me stupid an' all me an icepick, iffen this ain't th' stash."

The Vartan just stares at the sign for a moment… and then rushes into the cabin, almost threatening to rip the door from its hinges.

As soon as the door is pulled open, though, Zoltan finds himself heading headlong into … solid rock. He stops in time to avoid any injury to his beak, however.

Just a few inches inside the door … and inside the window … solid rock.

The Korv blinks a few times. "Steady on there, steady! What the devil… ?"

"NO!" Zoltan screams and starts clawing wildly at the rock with his hands.

Rust-colored dust, dirt and pebbles come free under the force of the huge Vartan's talons, but there's no indication that anything other than earth and rock lies underneath the surface.

"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey!" Kensington hops behind Zoltan, and attempts to tug at one of the Vartan's shoulders. "Easy there, lad, easy! Calm down!"

Some of the pebbles that fall free are oddly shaped … irregularly formed, like a rock would likely be … but sheer flat on the surface that was exposed to the air.

The Vartan squawks something, probably a reply, but he's not even speaking in standard anymore. He keeps digging away at the rock.

More pebbles pull free, though larger blocks of stone refuse to yield. Gouges are made into the dirt and grit, but eventually, the earth refuses to reveal anything more.

"Zoltan! Zoltan!! ZOLTAN!" The Korv moves around to one side, and with the back of his wing, he slaps the Vartan on the side of the face. "Get a hold of yerself, man!"

Zoltan whirls around and glares at the Korv with wild, angry eyes… then it all melts away from his face. He sinks down to his knees and leans his head against the rock. "This happen almost a year ago, Kensington. If Herbir was in there… "

Kensington reaches out to clasp Zoltan's shoulder again, looking into the Vartan's eyes. So much pain there… "I know it's hard, Zoltan. But rippin' yer hands ta bloody stumps ain't gonna 'elp it… c'mere, lookit th' trees wit' me… I been thinkin' 'bout whatcha said. 'Bout worlds flyin' round in this… this place wit' no magic."

The Vartan starts digging through his pack again. "But this was here before. The boomer left it way it was for some reason… " he pulls out the odd visor again and looks around, this time just holding it over his eyes instead of tying it down.

Where the pit was dark and the land far above light … through the mask, it seems just the opposite. This pit is bathed in a soft, weak glow … while it is surrounded by walls not just of rock, but of darkness. Following up the length of the pit, the light forms a weak column that rises upward and upward, dissipating into the sky.

The Korv looks out from the porch at the trees where they've been shorn in halves by the walls of the pit, or just clipped. "Aye, aye. See there, where that tree got cut in half by the wall? If it twere stucks in there, it wouldna 'ave fallen down. But the other 'alf o' th' tree is just gone. Replaced by rock. Mebbe it's in one o' those other worlds ye were talkin' about… " The Korv listens to himself for a moment, and shakes his head. "Or maybes I be just ramblin'… I don be understanding this… but ye know, we didn't check th' pockets of those clothes on th' bank… "

Zoltan carefully, almost reverantly, packs the mask away again. He absently wipes some of the blood on his hands off on his chest. "Hrrr… so father might have ended up in Lifedome while people there got sent here. But then why would champion say he was in Himar?" he shakes his head and starts digging through the clothing. "I not know anymore… I just hope he no trapped in rock."

"Ahh, but dontcha see? He was in Himar! C'mon, follow me!" The Korv hops off the porch, and with a gentle glide, comes to rest near the forgotton clothing on the bank. He points at the trousers. "Lookit 'em!"

Alas, the clothing has nothing in the pockets. It would appear they were laid out for washing. A sandy spot nearby looks like a perfect place for a sand bath … and there are hints of black feathers in the lighter grit. The clothes, perhaps not surprisingly, would fit someone about Zoltan's size and shape. There are no shirts.

Zoltan carefully gathers the clothing up in his arms and buries his face in the mass. He inhales; although he definitely doesn't have the nose of a Jupani he still tries to pick up the smell of the man who wore the garments. He tries to remember…

"The yellow sand," enthuses Kensington, still pointing. "All th' sand 'ere be Abaddon sand! Err… I mean, red sand! The thinner yellow stuff be from Himaar, I'm sure o' it!"

The clothes smell earthy, dusty. The well-worn, oft-mended clothes of a Vartan.

The Vartan just sits and hugs the cloth to his face, but finally relents his frip and stuffs the garments into his pack. He looks at the Korv and nods, although there's a good chance he wasn't paying attention. His eyes are red and his cheeks show hints of moisture.

"Do you think," Zoltan scrawks softly, "That he coulds have been doing laundry here when boomer hit… ended up not trapped in stone?"

The sky above the pit slowly darkens … though the lantern still provides ample light. Clouds drift by far above.

Kensington ponders the tracks left in the mud, and the now-stagnant water. He gives Zoltan a long look, and an uncomfortable moment of silence passes. "'E probably left in an 'urry, Zoltan. Stone springin' up around 'im like this… if I were in 'is place, I wouldn't 'ave stopped t'grab the lantern or clothes either." He leaves it unsaid that the lantern is probably worth something.

Something small and white flitters down the pit … dancing to and fro … and then another. And another. And several more.

A delicate flake sails downward, catching the light of the lantern, making it glitter like a star. It glides down toward Zoltan … then alights on his beak.

Zoltan blinks and looks crosseyed at the flake. Snow?

Kensington stares at Zoltan, then looks up at the sky. "It wasn't cold when I were up there… " he murmurs to himself. "So what in Gretchen's name… ?"

The delicate white flakes continue to descend, like a myriad of stars coming down from the Procession – or beyond – to greet the two avians in this otherworldly place. Down here in this slice of Himar, and up there in the red desert, it's snowing.