The Eternal Vigilance, an airship in the service of the Knights, has departed from the Sanctuary of Amber, and now drifts over the Stygian Sea. It's east of the Gigi Coast, but still within sight, though that will soon change, as the sun is working its way down to rest on the mountains to the west.

A huge ocean-traversing airship of Chronotopian manufacture (but flying Rephidim-aligned colors) floats nearby and slightly underneath the Vigilance. Lettering in several languages identifies the craft as the Saint Henry Canaan, on two elongated envelopes straddled by a "bridge" hull that connects the two.

A flight of rakhtors with Eeee handlers handles the task of ferrying precious cargo across to the Cannon: the Ark of Shadows, the core of Kasaris' float/wagon. The rest of the float has been disassembled and stowed away in the hold, but the Ark always remains intact, and the priestesses are already over on the other vessel.

Back on the landing deck of the Vigilance, two spotted felines look out toward the east and the other ship – One is a lady cheetah in a plain travel dress, her upper body swathed in baggy layers of cloth and a cascade of curly black hair that obscure her torso and arms; the other is a jaguar girl by the name of Pouncer Zoltan, who has abandoned the false persona of "Watches-Quietly" – After all, the fact that she's accompanied by two former Knights Templar of Shadow Lance would tend to negate any chance she'd have at being inconspicuous. In robes and partial armor to each side of her stand Shade and Vague, awaiting their turn to transfer over to begin their journey back to Rephidim to claim what can be salvaged of the Sanctuaries of Golgotha before young Gallee nobles claim anything of value for themselves.

Elijah is bundled up from the cold air of the high altitudes as best as he can manage, swathed in thick violet robes for now. His attention is focused on Pouncer for now, trying to get in a last hug or two before he departs and trying to remember the dozens of little details to remind his daughter of like writing her brother when he gets the chance and remembering to get an Eee to try and help give Srinala flying lessons and things like that.

Pouncer looks up to Elijah, grinning self-consciously at everything, then adds in, "Do you have anything you want me to pass on to Enos?"

"Just that I love him, I miss him, and be sure to let him know that we may be moving when I get back." The Vartan hugs Pouncer one last time. "Be good, and try to help your guardians out as best as you can here. Make me proud."

Pouncer squeezes herself into the hug as tightly as she can, and mews, "I will!" then, after stretching out the hug for as long as possible, she stands back and gives him a brave smile, then looks to Vague.

Vague nods. "Ready, then." He crouches down, and loads up with a very special cargo – Pouncer – for the flight over. Pouncer could just as well be ferried over by the winged porters of the airship, but one can't get much more reliable winged transportation than a Lancer.

Shade looks to Elijah, and signs, "Even if we were not protecting her, I am certain she would be quite capable of caring for herself. She has grown over these few years."

Elijah nods to his lancer and salutes him, smiling to Shade. "I have no doubt of that, but as a father I'm allowed to be worried, or at least a tiny bit protective." He walks over to Inri and places his hands against her cheeks, gently kissing the crown of her head. "I don't know what path you go down now, but I hope you find what you seek. Just keep in touch when you can. I'll miss you greatly."

Inri inclines her head, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back up to Elijah, giving him a sad but hopeful smile. She signs, "May it be that when we meet again, we have both found our names."

The Vartan smiles at that and scoops the Savanite up in ahug comparable to the ones he's given Pouncer. "Try and guide Kasaris when you can as well," he whispers into her ear. "I think she needs a friend, and a Star to follow. You have been as much for me."

Inri makes a noise akin to a squeak in surprise … but does her best to act as if nothing unusual has happened. She nods at the whisper, and gives Elijah a conspiratorial smile. Vague, meanwhile, swoops out toward the other airship, and it hardly takes him a moment to cover the distance, and deposit Pouncer safely on the broad landing deck of the other ship, near what little luggage she has already waiting there.

Elijah sets his captive down and steps away, bowing and holding one of her hand by the fingertips to flourish the gesture. "Farewell, Lady Inri."

Inri inclines her head again, and signs, "Farewell, Master Elijah." By the time she finishes, Vague has returned, and repeats the same process he went through for Pouncer. This time, however, Shade joins him and Inri as they glide across to the lower passenger ship.

The Vartan curls his arms up in his robes to keep them warm as he watches the ship. "To the Sanctuary of Ice, then. Star protect us all."

Many days and nights pass, and the days stop being numbered by the time after Landing Day, but rather the time before the New Year. The craft works its way southward, keeping a respectful distance from the vast Forbidden Zone of Aeztepa, though it is large enough to be visible for a good portion of the trip, once the craft has made its way across the equator, and into the southern hemisphere. Winter gives way to equatorial year-round heat, and then to a more temperate summertime in the reversed seasons of the southern region.

Here, in the south, the lands are less familiar than in the north, where so many of the surface nations that have dealings with Rephidim – friendly or otherwise – are clustered. Much of the southern hemisphere is just water, save for the continent of Lamu, the expanse of the Savan, and the island of Aeztepa … and only two out of three are the least bit hospitable.

Despite the greatly ranging temperatures, however, the altitude of the craft ensures that things are always on the side of chilly, even though it's not attempting to keep up at the absurd heights of sky island altitude. It does its fair share of cloud-hopping, though. Just like the passenger liner, it is equipped for long-range travel, as is well needed, since there is little by way of civilization in these parts.

One evening, much like any other, the Eternal Vigilance is continuing its southward trek. Somewhere to the west is the coast of Aeztepa, hinted at by firelights that betray that the land is not totally uninhabited … though more's the question of what sort of inhabitants might be there. Unusual, though, is when there's a light above the land and sea … a flashing light, reflected on a signaling mirror. A distress signal.

Captain Bevel rouses off-duty crewmembers, getting the ship to full readiness, and Elijah is disturbed from his usual business with the news.

The Vartan ties his belt on as he walks out onto the deck, peering up at the light. "Do you know what the distress is? Are they under attack or just stranded?"

Bevel shakes his head, taking a break from barking (literally) orders at the crew. "Whoever is operating the mirror is just sending the standard distress signal – quite possibly some poor sap who doesn't even know signal code. We haven't gotten any responses from signaling back yet - just a pause, I guess, while whomever it is watches, then we stop, and they start up again." The ship continues to draw closer. Thanks to the light of the Procession, it's not pitch black out there, and the Vartan's keen eyesight no doubt gives him an edge over the mostly canine and lupine crew. He can see the pale form of an airship of a fairly standard – Rephidim-influenced, but not necessarily allied – design, listing, as it looks like the envelope is made up of several sub-cells, some of which have been ruptured. There are running lanterns burning, which make it possible to rough out the general shape of the gondola, also hanging askew from broken rigging.

"Mind if I scout it out, Captain? It could be a passenger ship of some sort, and whatever damaged them might still be lurking about." Elijah's wings rustle to emphasize his point.

Bevel nods. "All right. If there's any trouble, fly back to the ship immediately. We'll have the ballistas manned to cover you if something pops up."

Elijah nods. "Can you give me a flare? I'll fire it off if this turns dangerous. I could probably use some rope or a grapple if we have to link ships as well."

Bevel looks askance to a floppy-eared Gallah crewmember, who snaps off a salute. "Aye-aye!" He almost literally scampers off, grabbing up a flare, rope and grappling hook, along with a utility harness for good measure.

The Vartan dresses as quickly as he can and then shakes his feathers out to warm them up. "If you see my signal, get out of here as quickly as you can, I can catch up later."

Bevel frowns at this. "Only one signal you can give us, eh?" He grunts, looking about, then adjusts his cap and nods. "Very well."

Elijah pauses and taps his beak. "How about this: If it's safe I'll fire the flare upwards, unsafe and I'll shoot it down."

Bevel nods and grins. "Sounds fine. And if you accidentally drop it … then we'll just bugger off full speed, until we wise up and figure out there's no trouble at all, then come back and feel mildly scandalized for the mistake." He chuckles.

"I'll try not to be so clumsy." Elijah taps his brow with two taloned fingers as a small salute and then vanishes off the side of the ship. Moments later his silhouetted figure appears in the moonlight, winging towards the crippled ship.

As Elijah wings his way toward the ship, he sees a few details that look a bit suspicious, other than the fact that this is so far removed from at trade lane that few should have any good cause to be out here anyway. It's a fairly generic airship design, and a symbol of Saskanar can be seen plastered on the envelope … but it appears that it's a very large patch, partially peeled away with the damage inflicted upon the cells underneath the area the fabric covers. Underneath, a Rephidim symbol can be seen peeking through – not official Temple, that is, but indicating a merchant ship proudly aligned with Rephidim. Or not so proudly, given the fabric covering the symbol up.

Elijah circles the ship, trying to see what might have cause the damage and what the people on the deck look to be doing… or more so if they look genuinely in trouble or if they might be getting ready to ambush another ship.

The damage appears to be in the form of tears in the envelope, as if something sharp raked through them – fliers with swords, airborne predators, or any number of anti-ship methods, really. If it's a ship playing crippled, it's taking the act a bit overboard, as there is a considerable amount of the rigging that is torn and hanging loose, and the envelope looks in danger of buckling and folding if any more cells rupture. There are a number of bodies hanging in the rigging, and it looks like there are some bodies on the deck that have been piled up together – Perhaps that the dead that could be easily reached and disentangled have been stuck together at the far end of the deck. There is a bat at the signaling mirror and lamp, leaning on a railing for support as he goes through the motions of reflecting the light to send a distress call once more to the Eternal Vigilance.

( Trap or no, they're going down soon. I shouldn't just leave them to crash. ) Elijah flutters closer. "Hoi there! What happened to you and your crew?"

One of the "bodies" stirs, revealing itself to be a wounded crewmember. The bat lets out a squeak, then waves a wing. "H-help! We've been hit by … something … Dagh, it was … big… " The bat's volume drops off to he point where it can't be made out. However, just then, a black bat "caught" in the rigging starts moving, like a rag doll suddenly brought to life. "FLY AWAY!" the bat shrieks. "THE CREW WAS KILLED, THEY'RE ALL FLESH-EATING ZOMBIES, AND AS SOON AS THEY CAN REACH ME, THEY'LL FINISH ME TOO! GET OUT! FOR THE SAKE OF WHATEVER GODS YOU SERVE, GET OUT OF HERE!"

Elijah drops like a rock towards the ship, pulling his sword out and preparing for a fight as he joins the bat on the desk. "Are there any other survivors besides yourself?"

The bat wears a hooded cowl, with holes that let his ears peek through, and beneath the cowl, his face is so black that his nose can't even be picked out, and the whites of his eyes are a sharp contrast, where they reflect the lantern light. "I SAID to get out!" One of his wings hangs limp. Some of the wounded on the deck start getting up … despite evidence that they've got far worse wounds than the black bat sports. While bats comprise a large portion of the crew, there are quite a few Gallahs, some Skreeks and a few Khattas as well, and a smattering of other species … but to the last one, none of them looks free of wounds, and most of them look like they haven't a right to be moving about at all. One of the Skreeks has the audacity to squeak, "You came to help us! Thank you!" If it weren't for the fact that his eye was hanging out of his socket, his smile would seem rather earnest.

Elijah swipes at the deck with his sword, carving out a rough looking holy symbol as he studies the bat to make sure he's not so wounded as to be dead himself. "I'll get you out of here, come on." He holds his free hand out to the black bat.

There are no obvious wounds to be seen, though there could very well be a mortal wound underneath those robes, or else he could have died of exposure to the elements hanging onto the rigging. At the very least, though, he does a much better job of acting pained when his bad wing is moved, to the point of letting out a high-pitched squeal of anguish. "Augh!" Nonetheless, the bat doesn't turn down Elijah's offer, and reaches out a hand, extricating himself the rest of the way from the rigging in the process.

As for the zombies – It's pretty clear right now that's what they are, after all – the closest ones at least slow their pace, a little confused at the very least by the scratched holy symbol on the deck, though it's not clear whether they'll come to a complete stop at some point out of arm's length on account of it.

Not waiting to see what decision the undead make, Elijah grabs onto the bat and jumps off the deck. His sword slides back into its sheath and he pulls out the flare, pointing its mouth downwards as he presses the firing mechanism on it. "If you're a zombie like the rest you'll very much regret fooling me."

The bat just screams bloody Dagh as he's jerked free from the deck, and the zombies close in. As the flare drops, Elijah can see the propellers spinning up. The bat pauses for breath, then winces, "If I were a zombie like the rest, I wouldn't care! Oh, void, that hurt!"

Elijah's wings hammer at the air as he tries to catch up to his ship. "So what happened? Did you fly too close to Aeztepa?"

The bat winces with each wing beat, and flops his head around in what looks like an attempt at a nod, muttering something Babelite under his breath that's not quite intelligible, but odds on is something unpleasant to say about the captain of his ship and his parentage.

The airship hasn't gotten up to full speed yet, and Elijah is presently winning the race. However, it looks like a number of zombie bats – flying despite broken or tattered wings in some cases – are alighting from the other ship. Fortunately, he still has a head start on them, and though they may enjoy more mobility than a corpse has a right to, they're still not as fast as a healthy, living Eeee would be.

"We'll be back on my ship soon, although it looks like we'll have to repel a few folks. Hopefully we can out-fly them there, as I'd rather not fight with you in my arms." He clumsily pulls out his gunblade, points it back towards one of the bats and takes a shot at its wing, trying to knock one or two down in his flight before they get close enough to battle one on one.

The bullet manages to pierce the wing of one of his attackers, but has an almost negligible effect – The impact isn't solid enough to set off an explosive burst. However, it serves an important purpose, in that Elijah's firing upon one of the bats makes it clear that they're valid targets. Musket- and bow-fire from the deck rains down on those bats that are off to the side enough so as not to risk errant shots at Elijah. He manages to reach the deck, and two of his pursuers have been dropped, though there are several more stubbornly making their way nonetheless.

"Get a doctor here! This is the only survivor and I don't think this is the place where we want to suffer any loss of life." The brown Vartan sets the bat down on the deck as gently as he can manage and then joins the firing volley.

The bat lets out a squeak of pain despite Elijah's best efforts – In a way, it's just about inevitable. The ship's doctor, a plump, bespectacled Skeek, rushes over to the bat, while Elijah finds his place on the firing line. The rakhtors at present, while geared up for flight if need be, aren't being let off the decks, since if full-out escape is the plan, they'd only slow down the ship or get left behind.

From the more stable platform of the ship, Elijah is able to make far better work of the bats. The first shot pierces a wing again, doing little, but the next shot is as perfect as one could hope for … It hits square on the skull of one of the zombie fliers, then explodes, and the shrapnel sends three other fliers hurtling down toward the sea, broken so badly that even whatever animates them can't keep them airborne.

More Eeee fliers are downed by the combined fire of the others on the ship. They aren't bothering with the ballistas, since those are intended more for ship-to-ship combat, and firing one against an Eeee – even a zombie – would be almost pointless.

Elijah punches his fist into the air as his shot scores, and continues firing. "If we've got the range, Captain, try to shoot down the other ship. No reason for Amenlichtli to claim it for her own."

The Captain nods. "Mmm – all right. Wasn't clear on what all was a designated target." He nods to the ballista crew. "Take out the airship!" he barks. The crew fires bolts at the "disabled" airship, which is pursuing the Eternal Vigilance with a mobility that suggests unnatural means.

The bolts fly off, some of them igniting in mid-air with whatever foul brew they were imbued with for just such a purpose. While some burst through the other ship's envelope and push on through without causing any noticeable damage, others manage to light the fabric, and to start fires on the deck. The crew doesn't seem to have the presence of mind to actually put up any defense, and in short order, a fire that a competent crew could easily contain has spread, turning the ship into an inferno … and the remaining cells begin to deflate, as the doomed ship wafts downward.

Elijah lets his breath out and shakes his head as the ship drops. "Best we keep on our toes. If there's a priest aboard the ship I highly recommend you inform them that now would be a very good time to start praying." He reloads his gunblade and then slides it back into its sheath. "How is the survivor doing?"

The captain looks off to the area of the deck where the Skeek is tending to the bat … or, rather, it looks like the bat is telling the Skeek how to do his job, and the Skeek looks terribly put upon, but goes about his work nonetheless. The broken wing has been set in a splint – Any screams caused by setting the bone must have been drowned out in the noise of all the fighting.

"That's the last of them!" a lupine archer declares, saluting Captain Bevel and Elijah. "They're all gone down to the fishes now."

The Vartan kneels down on the other side of the bat. "Now might be a good time for introductions. My name is Elijah, and this is the Eternal Vigilance. We're on our way south to the Sanctuary of Ice. Who are you and what brought you on such a dangerous trip?"

The bat pants, catching his breath, then looks up to Elijah. "Thank you," he squeaks in a high-pitched voice. "I … " He looks around. "Well, I was the ship's medic, actually. I know a little life magic, but not enough to do any good while surrounded by zombies. I'm … not fully accredited by the College, however. It's made employment a bit difficult. I chose my employers … unwisely."

Elijah nods. "And your name?"

"Karo," the bat responds. From Elijah's limited exposure to the Babelites – or, that is, limited exposure to anything cultural – "Karo" is a pretty common name, among the lessors in Babelite society. Someone once said it meant "power". Poor Babelites like to give their kids presumptuous-sounding names, in the hopes that they'll bear them out.

The Vartan nods. "What were you doing so far south? There's not much call for airships here."

The bat chews his lip, then shrugs. "Oh, what the void. The captain's dead anyway, and it's not like I was far from there myself. That ship was the Bloody Knuckle. And a few other names. Probably changed every holiday, really. Privateers. They were headed to Bloatville. Ah … that is, the drifting pirate base. It's quite a sight. A pathetic one, anyway. All these airships and balloons strung together, even with a few sky gardens clinging on for good measure. A regular town in the sky. Wouldn't call it a city per se. That much weight, and I doubt any number of balloons could hold it up. It moves here and there, and the pirates somehow find a way to keep control over word on where it will be at any given time. Sort of like the Captain-Astromancer and his charts of Rephidim."

Elijah's notched ear flicks. "He must have been in some hurry to risk flying so close to Aeztepa, unless somehow this Bloatville place manages to hide near it without dealing with its curse."

Karo snorts. "I don't think the captain was in command of this ship nearly so long as he let on. Probably knifed the previous captain in the back, won the ship in a bet, or who knows what, and somehow managed to drum up a crew of ne'er-do-wells to load down every plank and rigging." The bat shifts a bit, wincing in anticipation … but the painkillers must have kicked in, as there's no scream this time. "He came across some money, though. The way he threw it around, though, I knew he couldn't last long. I was aiming to find myself a new ship once we made it to Bloatville. I hadn't counted on him being that incompetent, though. My mistake."

"So what do you remember about what hit you? And how did you manage to be the only one left alive?" The Vartan shifts his seat to put a bit less strain on his ankles.

Captain Bevel, meanwhile, makes his rounds. The crew isn't on full alert, but he hasn't done anything so brash as to send them off to their bunks yet. For one thing, he's getting more distance between the ship and Aeztepa's coast … and having everyone keep an eye out just in case there might be something else out there they didn't notice in all the excitement.

Karo says, "I'm a life mage. One spell I know is that I can make myself pass for dead … apparently well enough to fool zombies, thank goodness. It also no doubt helped me to last a bit longer than I might otherwise have, hanging there. I managed to snap out of it once you arrived."

The Skeek arranges a few cushions on the deck for the bat, and drapes a blanket over him. The bat seems a bit touchy about the mouse, though – the sort who seems inclined to think that if there's anything to be done for him, he can do it better himself, even if he hasn't so far passed himself off as a master surgeon who would have any cause to be a perfectionist.

The Skeek, nonetheless, meekly takes it all in stride, and bows to Elijah. "I'm going to check on the crew now, in case there were any minor injuries in the fight, even if we didn't have any boarders. Standard procedure."

"Of course. Thank you for your help." Elijah nods to the Skeek and then focuses back on the bat. "Well, we're headed southwards for now, although where that will take us afterwards is anyone's guess. As long as you're a hard worker after you heal up you're welcome to stick around as a paid member of the crew. Or we can drop you off at the next port we hit… unfortunately that won't be for awhile."

Karo frowns. "If you're heading southward … I can't think of any ports you'll be hitting. Are you sure about that?"

The Skeek physician, meanwhile, patters off, going through the routine of chasing down every crewmember not obviously busy, and making sure no one is wounded and just didn't think to inform the physician about it, or was too busy to risk breaking away from work to seek help, for fear of endangering the ship, and so forth.

"We're bound to hit a port or something on our way back. Although it does mean that you're stuck with us for a bit." The Vartan shrugs. "If you don't mind me asking, have you any particular loyalties?"

Karo raises an eyebrow. "Only to the source of my next paycheck. Figuratively speaking, that is. I haven't drawn an actual paycheck in … ever."

Elijah hands Karo a copper shekel, not that he's in any condition to do much with it. "Then this is to make sure you stay loyal. I noticed that your ship was flying Saskanar colors, are you from there?"

The bat's eyes widen upon seeing the shekel, and he practically snatches it from Elijah's hand, ogling it with more emotion than he's shown so far – enough that it looks almost as if he's hamming it up. He breaks out of his reverie to say, "Oh? Ah … no, no, Ashdod Proper, actually. Saskanar just happens to be a neutral nation, so it's handy sometimes to fly the colors if you don't happen to have something more appropriate handy. Babel isn't terribly happy with Saskanar, but they aren't going to attack their ships to try to woo them back."

"I see, now then… would you mind explaining yourself and what you were doing out here for real now? You strike me as nothing like the privateering or pirating type, and if you were any sort of mage I think that any ship would clamor for your services, hedge wizard or no. The Collegia doesn't mean much these days, and your show doesn't impress me much." Oddly, Elijah's tone hasn't changed a fraction beyond casual querying.

The bat blinks a couple of times in what passes for surprise … but it's evident that Elijah's not going to fall for that. He opts for a scowl instead. "All right, fine. I'm a spy for Babel, and this was an elaborate scheme to get me positioned on your ship so that I could follow the movements of your vessel, and find out what you're up to this far south, if you're not a privateer. You can now hang me for treachery to the cause of Rephidim, once you take me to the Temple for a proper inquisition to squeeze whatever tidbits I might possibly have about the High Princess' secret plans for making life more miserable for the Temple than it already is."

Elijah shrugs. "I can't let you go on a clear conscience, but we're not precisely with the Temple." He jerks his head towards the fallen ship in the distance. "What about the zombies and such? I take it that you probably hijacked some real vessel, killed off its crew, and reanimated them? that seemed like rather powerful magic at work."

The bat shrugs. "No, actually, there are ghost ships floating all along the coast here. We just picked one near where you were going, and they dropped me off. Shame. It was such a slick operation."

"Captain? You might want to hear this." The Vartan sighs through his nostrils. "So what does the Princess know about us so far?"

The husky captain's ears perk up, and he wanders over, as the bat says, "Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. And, as an added precaution, I honestly don't know that much. It's not for me to know about you, after all. Just to find out."

Elijah nods. "Fair enough. And what would your current report on us be to the Princess?" He waggles a finger at the Captain. "We should probably have him searched, and put in confinement in one of the cabins." He glances back at the bat, a smirk dancing at the edges of his beak. "Unless you're one of those types who poisons themselves once their cover is blown?"

The bat says, "No, if I had poison on me, then that'd probably be found, and blow my cover prematurely. Couldn't have that. I'll be just fine, thank you, locked up securely. Though I must inform you that it's my obligation as a prisoner of war to attempt to escape. Nothing personal."

The captain's bushy eyebrows raise at this, and he looks askance to Elijah.

"We're going south, you can chuck yourself overboard and freeze to death anytime you like," the Vartan replies. "He's a Babelite spy, here to see what we're up to."

"He is?" the captain responds, raising just one of his bushy eyebrows this time, perhaps unconsciously sniffing at the air as he speaks. The bat directs a scowl at him.

The bat begins muttering something that sounds cantripish. The Vartan's magic-sense picks up an appropriate sense that some minor cantrip is being invoked, though the exact nature of it is beyond his discerning.

Elijah nods. "If he was in flying condition I'd say we chuck him and let him find his way home from here, but I don't like leaving a man out to die. Besides, we're just a supply ship. The Princess can beat her head against a wall when she finds that she went through all this trouble for the sake of one little supply ship." At the bat's murmuring he whips out a hand and grips the bat's face. "None of that, dear mage."

The bat's chanting ends with a muffled squeak.

The captain says, "I'll have someone fetch a muzzle. " He barks off the order to a hand within earshot.

The Vartan slowly pulls his hand back. "Let me guess, you're really a mind mage, right?"

"Multi-sphere, actually," the bat squeaks.

The captain grumbles under his breath, "Not a mage on board for the trip, and we have to keep a hostile one prisoner. Ah!" He throws his hands up in a "That's life for you!" gesture, and then finds that a muzzle has been pressed intohis hand by one of the ship-hands. "Ah. Here we go. It's not as fancy as what the Esoteric types would have, but it does in a pinch to deal with chanting."

"Mind telling me what you were attempting to do? If you've got a ship nearby you were trying to contact I'd consider flying you there if it would mean we'd be left alone." His hand hovers in front of the bat's mouth. "I don't look forward to keeping you here locked up in a room for what could be months anymore than you probably look forward to experiencing it for yourself."

The captain sniffs at the air. "Hmm. My guess is that it had something to do with suppressing her smell. I'm not scenting her now."

The bat glowers at the captain again.

Elijah blinks and looks back and forth between the bat and the Gallah. "Er… did you say her?"

The husky nods. "Certain of it." He taps himself on the nose. "I'm not Bloodhound stock, but -" He's cut off by an enraged squeak from the bat. "Do you MIND?!"

"You are extremely lucky that I did not go with my first instinct and start stripping you down, Madame." The Vartan chuckles. "Now then, unless you find the idea of being locked in a cabin for several months with a muzzle strapped to your face and plugs in your ears appealing, is there anywhere that we can drop you off, or some compromise we can make?"

The bat shudders with rage, then sputters out, "I have been on an airship with the filthiest, most rancid, gods-forsaken crew I have ever scented without benefit of a Gallah nose… " The "Gallah" comment prompts a muzzle-wrinkle from the dog. "… and I have done my utmost to make certain that the crude nature of such men was not focused on someone such as myself. I have been on a ship overtaken by zombies, I broke a wing, I have just been flown through arrow fire, and I certainly can't help it if I happened to develop just a tad bit of body odor, but the first Gallah I run into has to broadcast for all to hear… " The bat then cuts off, as she realizes every ship hand around is now staring at the source of the outburst.

"You're new at this, aren't you?" Elijah sighs. "I'm afraid that I can't let you out of my sight, but how about we see about getting you a bath and some warm food? If you chant one syllable I'll have to hush you up, but I suspect that you've had to deal with enough for today."

The bat narrows her eyes, and mutters, "That would be fine."

Elijah carefully picks up the Eeee. "So what's your real name? And please don't tell me it's Barada… "

The Eeee smirks, then sobers. "Sukara. I had cruel parents."

"No power," Elijah murmurs. "How did you end up as a spy? From what I gather of Babelite beliefs, unwanted children are usually turned over to the sisters." He walks down the deck and carries the bat into the kitchen, hoping to find a pot of soup or tea brewing. "Or were your parents hoping for a son?"

The bat abruptly looks away at Elijah's musing, and winces a bit at being picked up. Typical of Eeee, the bat is light, and hardly a burden for Elijah to carry. After all, he's thrown them around before. "Maybe," she volunteers, as they get into the kitchen, where a plump Skreek is whistling to himself as he checks on a kettle. "Ah, you on the night watch? I've got some eye-opener here. Picked up some spicy tea in – Eh? New passenger, eh?" He squints, wiggling his whiskers as he leans forward to regard the bat. She seems impassive at his attentions, and he at last leans back, raising his nose a notch. "Eh, let me fetch some cups. I put them all away when we had the little … er … excitement."

Elijah flattens his ears a little. "Could you please have a kettle and some bowls of soup delivered to my cabin? I'd also like a couple of buckets of hot water boiled up if you can manage it." He takes a step back, not too sure if he wants to leave Sukara to the cook's attentions.

The old rat bobs his head. "Not a problem, sir," and he sets to it.

Nodding, the Vartan turns around and marches towards his cabin. "I apologize for that," he grunts quietly. "So how old are you, Sukara?"

"Eighteen years, at least," Sukara says. "People of my station don't bother so much with keeping track of birthdays. Exact age isn't so much a concern in Babel as it is in, say, Rephidim."

"Well, I am easily twice your age and a little bit more." He nudges the door to his cabin open with a hoof and then starts to settle the Eeee onto his bed, pulling out a few extra blankets and settling them on the floor. "I will try and set up some sort of screen for privacy if you think you can manage washing yourself on your own… but if I hear one chant I'll have to break that particular vow. Sleeping arrangements will need to be worked out, but I've slept on plenty of floors in my day."

The bat nods. "You have my word as a – No chants," she says. "Whatever you think is best."

Elijah settles down on the floor. "Your word as a spy?" He smirks. "So how did you end up at such a station?"

The mage ducks her ears so that she can slip her cowl off, pulling the top off around the ears, where they poke through the holes. She then unfastens her bleach white hair, which spills down over her shoulders. "Well, that's sort of hard to say. As you say, I'm a bit new to this role."

"Were you born with that appearance or has your fur been dyed?" Elijah gets up and gathers up his weapons in the room, figuring that it might not be best to leave them lying around to get snatched up and used.

"That I don't know," the bat says. "I'm fairly certain it's a product of life magic. Just not mine."

Elijah frowns to himself. "What makes you say such a thing? As a spy, I would assume that you would be made to look like Barada of all people, but were I to place you, it would be as a child of Sunala."

The bat narrows her eyes, looking at the wall. "That's because I am." Just then, there's a rap at the door, and the Skreek cook's voice can be heard on the other side. "I have your water here, piping hot!"

"Were you afraid of dying at all when I came on the ship? I mean, you must have been worried that I might have chosen to heed your warnings and turned tail and fly away." He locks the weapons up in a cabinet, leaving only the sword at his side left out and then fetches the buckets.

The bat frowns. "I underestimated you. I assumed that, should you alight upon the ship, you would be torn apart … but the zombies were slow to fall upon you." Sukara sighs. "I shall dispense with the pathetic charades. I hardly even see why I bother. As you say, I am not of Barada, and I really haven't a clue as to how to handle this business of sneaking around. I wasn't meant for this sort of thing. It's beneath my mistress."

"It was my hope you would see the zombies, and turn away. Any good Babelite would have done as much. I forget … some of the other nations have this thing for 'chivalry'. In retrospect, it would have been wiser for me to start chanting, 'I want to dine on your brainnnnnnns!' and hack and groan for effect," the bat mutters. The rat, meanwhile, shuffles off once the water is brought in. "I look forward to a bath. If I could get a reprieve from my promise not to chant, I could even fix up a circle to do something about my wing … but I can think of no way to prove to you the intent of any such spell, so I can't blame you for not trusting me."

"Then why were you placed here instead of one of Barada's?" Elijah carries the buckets in and starts digging through his supplies for a washcloth and some soap.

The bat continues, "My intent on the airship was to see to it that this 'Amenlichtli' did not claim any that should rightfully be Sunala's. My act was to spite her. I do not spy for the High Princess. I spy for Sunala, since Barada, it seems, is no longer able to do that."

Elijah smirks and shrugs as he sets up a sheet to act as a screen in the back of the cabin. "I have a daughter who is about your age. You can call me an old mother hen if you like, but I do not like to see death. The fact that you were the only one apparently still alive on the ship was reason enough to take the risk. Besides, I've a little bit of experience fighting zombies." He glances over to the bat. "Can you walk on your own? I don't think you'd prefer bathing in my bed considering it's where you'll be sleeping tonight."

"Yes," Sukara answers, "I can walk. It's only my wing that's broken. And the doctor's treatment has it nicely numb now." She demonstrates by getting up. "And thank you for taking the time to annihilate that accursed vessel. Sunala is no doubt pleased."

Elijah shrugs. "Sunala can take all the pleasure of my actions as she wishes, but I didn't do it for her, I did it for the sake of those whom are still alive." He sets the washing supplies in his makeshift bathing spot and settles down a few feet away. "Now that's this about Barada no longer being able to do her job? I thought that she was a goddess?"

Sukara shrugs at Elijah's first remark. "Really, it doesn't matter to Sunala. What's done is done. So long as it suits her purpose, the motive hardly matters … and if someone wishes to serve her, but fails to do so, their vain intent gives her no pleasure. As for Barada … " Sukara frowns faintly, and wrestles with her limp wing as she prepares for her bath. "… her priestesses are in great distress. Barada has ceased answering their prayers … at least, not in the way she was doing, for some time."

"Are you worried that Sunala may take a similar path?" He frowns. "Will you be killed if you return to Babel? I do not know if this mission would be considered a success or failure on your part."

There's a mild splash of water as the bat dips into it. "It all remains to be seen. The dreams of the realm of Sunala have been disturbing. The dreamers have sometimes reported finding the Sea of Souls empty, or nearly so. And now there is talk of dreams of Barada's temple in ruins. Most of the priestesses would not speak of such things, but I have little concern. Sunala is eternal, and inevitable. Whatever happens to her sisters, Sunala will always be there."

"Are you so eager to die… or are you already dead, so accepting of it that in a way you've already murdered yourself?" The Vartan shakes his head.

"I haven't shredded my wings, only broken one of them," the bat says. "I didn't choose to become a Yodhsunala. So far as I know, I was offered up as a sacrifice to the priestesses. For reasons unknown to me – perhaps a throw of the lot – Sunala accepted my sacrifice in life, rather than to take me immediately in death. Sunala is patient, and so am I. I am in no particular rush to meet death, but neither am I greatly afraid of it. I should be particular about the manner in which I die, however. I am grateful I am not a shambling abomination now."

"Why remain? You have magical skills, you speak standard just fine… you could always go elsewhere, build a life, things like that." Elijah scrapes a talon across the floor. "Sunala is the only mother you've had in a way, isn't she?"

The light splashing in the tub stops abruptly for a moment … and then continues. "Yes, there would be nothing wrong with saying that."

"And as for why I stay … I am Yodhsunala. I have a place. For the moment, I may be out of my element, but should I live long enough and return without empty hands, I shall be made a true priestess," the bat continues. "I see no reason to throw that away, and betray my sisters."

"I'm sorry, although in saying that it sounds as though I'm hurling pity at you." He shrugs, not that it's evident though the curtain. "How old is the oldest priestess of Sunala that you know of?"

The girl half-laughs. "The oldest? Mmm … maybe sixty. Those that last that long tend to be in pretty decent shape. But it is not so bad to die young, either."

"I think its horrible to die young. You never get a chance to look back at your youth and remember how fearless and beautiful you were, and how the fires of youth could burn yourself and other so easily. You never get to look at your face in a mirror one day and realize that there's wisdom gleaming in your eyes." He chuckles. "Although I think that I'd miss the experience of having a family the most. I already miss my daughter like mad."

There's some more light splashing, then the bat says, "So, you compared me to your daughter earlier. What's she like?"

"She's the most beautiful girl in the world, with bright eyes the same color as mine." The Vartan traces the lines on his palm. "She's wiser than most young girls her age, and it makes it harder for her sometimes because she often thinks in her head too much, thinking about things far greater and darker than most others. Because of it she has a side that is almost always sad, but she hides it – just as her father I see it no matter how deeply she buries it."

There's a little more splashing, then the bat gets out, and starts to dry off – being especially ginger with the wounded wing. "She must be very special."

"Why do you say that?" Elijah looks away from the curtain as Sukara dries off.

Sukara shrugs. "It seemed the thing to say, that's all." A little bit later, and she comes around, in robes once more, though she hasn't bothered to replace the cowl, and the robes are arranged differently – looking less baggy, and more formal. "I don't have much experience with families, so I can't say that I relate."

"I was a terror as a child, a little brat that eventually drove my father away. I grew up alone until an old man took me in after I'd been left for dead on his doorstep. But if I'd have died then she would have died, and perhaps her brother, and a few other people I've met in my time." He gets up and starts to put the towels and soap away. "I can't say I've had much experience with parents myself, but the star saw fit to give me a second chance and try to make amends."

Sukara just nods noncommittally. "I suppose we all have fate driving us along, one way or another." She settles herself back down on the bed. "Thank you, by the way, for the chivalry." She smirks.

"What … for not watching you bathe? I'm no lech, and despite your admission to being a spy, you have not done anything to earn my abuse." He sighs and leans against his storage locker. "I am still left with a problem… do I trust you and let you be as you are, or do I truss you up for the night with a muzzle slapped onto your face to keep you from murmuring spells while I sleep. I do not care for the latter choice, but I also do not know what can be done to insure trust between us."

Sukara sighs. "Well … if you know as much about Sunala as you seem to, you'd know that dignity is of paramount importance to her. If you can promise me freedom from the indignity of being tied up, trussed up and gagged, I will swear by all Seven Sisters and any deity you put forth that I will be a perfect little Eeee all night. No loopholes, no exceptions, no 'following the letter but not the intent'." Sukara shrugs. "Or may Sunala strike me dead for making a fool of myself."

Elijah nods. "I shall trust you for one night then. You may have my bed, and I will sleep on the floor for the night." He lies down to emphasize his point. "May I ask you a rather odd question?"

Sukara's ears poke up over the covers, as she's lost little time in burying herself into a real bed – and a rather large one at that. "Yes?"

"There is a holiday in Rephidim called Guy Fox Day, is there any particular significance or event in Sunala's calendar that corresponds with that day?" The Vartan stifles a chuckle as he watches his bed swallow the Eee.

"Not particularly," Sukara answers, not bothering to surrender her comfortable position for the sake of answering more clearly. "But it is just after the Apex of Spirit."

"What is the Apex of Spirit?" he asks.

"It's on the Arcane Calendar," Sukara answers. "It's fairly obscure, pretty much only of a concern to mages. It puts twelve main holidays throughout the year, fairly evenly spaced, with a stretch of 4 or 5 days - depending on whether it's a leap year – at the start of the year to make up the difference. I think Caroban has been dusting it off to use as their official calendar now. It's a bit more regular than measuring time by Temple holidays, and, well, measuring things by Temple holidays implies subservience to Rephidim."

"But is there any significance to the Apex? Any particular traditions the followers of Sunala adhere to or ceremonies associated with that time?" Elijah shifts a bit as he tries to get comfortable.

"Nothing in particular," Sukara says. "But this last Guy Fox Day, it so happens, did happen to be a fairly special day. That was the day when the priestesses of Inala declared that she had chosen an Avatar, and that this Avatar had passed the Trial of Ascension. Not that I had ever heard any doctrine about the Seven Sisters taking avatars before this. At the time, I'd figured it to be something the Yodhinala had dreamt up to try to get more business at their shrine. Things have never been the same since the Boomer, what with so many noble houses being wiped out. Lost most of their best worshippers."

Sukara sighs. "And that's when the first report came from a visionary of an omen of the Sea of Souls being dried up. Perhaps Inala betrayed Sunala somehow."

"Do you believe that the Avatar is legitimate?" He taps his beak. ( I am the Sea of Souls, she said… )

"What I believe or do not believe has little bearing on the truth of the matter," Sukara says, "but, no, in my heart of hearts, I do not believe that Inala has chosen an avatar, let alone an alien – an Exile, by the Kindly Ones!"

Elijah sits up abruptly. "Do you happen to know any details about this particular exile?"

Sukara's ears move a bit, hinting that she's nodded her head. "Oh, I've heard more details than I care to hear. Envoy of Lothrhyn, Alumnus of the College Esoterica, Master of the Sphere of Earth, former Bard, Explorer of Barabbas' Tower, Honored by the Khattan Emir, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. But all of that doesn't change the fact that she's not the least bit Eeee."

Elijah groans, sounding pained, slaps his hand across his face and falls back onto his makeshift bed. His head hits the pillow hard enough to shake the floor. "Her curiosity and carelessness finally got the best of her. Poor Envoy finally gave up her soul for the price of… whatever it is she wants in life."

Sukara adds, matter-of-factly, "Apparently this happened in Caroban. From what I heard, every exorcist on the sky island was champing at the bit to take on Inala – a vain exercise it would be, if it were Inala, of course – and purge her from this Exile's body. But then, maybe she had some of Inala's charm, for somehow she managed to persuade them that this was a good thing, and that they shouldn't exorcise her. So they haven't."

"Envoy is spoiled and used to the idea that whatever trouble she gets herself into, there will always be some knight to ride in and rescue her. In my dealings with her she has rarely considered that her actions might bring harm to others, and takes a sick pleasure in blurting out things to 'shock' people and get reactions from them." Elijah groans and shakes his head. "Poor poor stupid little exile. I do not worship the sisters, but I have felt their touch enough to know that they are not to be trifled with."

Sukara is quiet for a bit, then says, "Hmm. Perhaps she is not so unlike Inala after all."

Elijah groans again. "Inala is a selfish hedonist. I fear that Envoy might not be very long for this world. It is very easy to make up stories of pretty little bats who experience pleasure, but in the real world when you eat too much you get fat, when you have too many lovers you either become pregnant or catch some disease, and when you strip dignities or items from other people they grow to resent you… and Babelites are not ones that you should haveresenting you unless you want to find a knife in your back someday."

The bat doesn't seem to have anything to add to this observation this time around.

The Vartan snorts to himself. "And when you die, you are dead, especially by Sunala's promises. No one to love or care for you, no chance to make a mark on the world, no new life to bring, no legacy, nothing. Glamorize it all you want… its still just a dark and cold hole. I would rather live for eternity in agony than accept Sunala's embrace. When I die, the Star shall have me, and I can rest in paradise with my mother and Master Nicodemus and Rose and all my brothers and sisters. If I am expected to believe that there is no purpose in life except death, then I am forced to accept that life has no meaning – and such a thing is something I will never accept."

"It is not so bad," Sukara says. "To not exist means that there is no pain. There is no anguish any longer. There may be no pleasure, either, but you won't be around to miss it. No paradise can be perfect. If all are admitted to it, then there are those who don't deserve to be there. And no matter what standards you set for inclusion, if you exclude anyone, there's bound to be someone you regret not being there … and that would spoil any paradise, I suppose. Better for the lack of any afterlife at all to concern oneself with. And far better to accept the truth of death, than to waste life trying to please fickle deities who dangle promises of glory in the afterlife to win good behavior from us."

Elijah shrugs, his anger calming. "Is that what they tell you the Star is? Have you ever thought that if there is nothing in a void, then there might be a partial absence of things elsewhere? Sadness cannot touch you in paradise, nor can any grief, rage, or hurt." He smiles to himself. "When my children lost the one that they saw as their mother they were horribly sad, but when I held them in my arms and told them that I loved them they felt better. If such a thing is possible without magic here in this world, surely the Master can manage it on a much larger scale in the next."

The bat is quiet for a time after this again, then says quietly, "If there were a Star, then perhaps it could be so. But I know Sunala. I do not know this Star."

"Then perhaps I need to show you the Star. But I will only do it when you feel you are ready." He rolls over onto his chest. "Until then I shall pray for my family, my daughter, and for you and Envoy." His eyes close. "Good night, Lady Sukara."