The day after the incident with the waashu attack, Ariel Azale comes back to Alptraum with a proclamation that this artifact was indeed used in a necromantic ritual, as a remote focus for a powerful spell that would have animated a corpse and provided it with an illusion of limited power to make it appear alive, though the exact appearance would draw upon the memories of an observer, rather than its own true appearance in life. Despite all this, Ariel confirms that the ritual in question has ended, and that the talisman has no remaining magical properties, save that a sufficiently potent Scryer might be able to find some "imprint" on it that could tell more about the identity of the necromancer that enchanted this foul device. She pronounces that the presence of the talisman should not present a threat to anyone, and therefore entrusts it back to Alptraum's possession.

Alptraum's involvement with the "waashu incident" guarantees that now everyone recognizes him, even if they don't know his name. He occasionally has to politely turn down invitations to breakfast or dinner, and to fend off adoring (and very curious) kittens. However, this doesn't translate into cloaked assassins leaping into his cabin at night, or Templars dragging him off for "questioning."

Several days later, the Princess of Stygia reaches the artificial island nicknamed "Little Rephidim East". It is known as a "paquebot": an ocean-based station consisting of a radial arrangement of docks, airship ports and warehouses, built for the purpose of servicing airships and naval vessels making the journey across the Stygian Sea. Although Alptraum has heard several times that the Princess of Stygia is quite capable of making the journey across the ocean without any need for stops, it nonetheless stops here just in time for Unity Day.

Several of the more wealthy passengers have departed the ship already, apparently intending to break off from the ocean journey only a third of the way into it, and take airships back to wherever they came from – joining the ship for this leg only for the novelty and not for the serious purpose of crossing the ocean to get anywhere in particular. By the number of new faces, it would appear that the Princess of Stygia has picked up a few passengers to replace them already. But even so, a number of passengers have taken temporary "shore leave" to shop at the paquebot trade port, or to participate in the holiday celebration.

Alptraum is among those visiting the paquebot today. He's taken care to hide away his crossbow and bolts underneath the clothes Nekara bought for him in the cabin dresser, and tucked away his travel bag as well. His knife goes with him, though concealed, as well as all of his money – after all, he reasons, he doesn't want any of it to fall prey to a cleaning maid who might "mistake" it for a generous tip.

Autumn-Storm has promptly vanished, eager to explore the new and strange place, and not necessarily waiting for Alptraum to catch up. (Besides, with all the attention he's drawn to himself, she can't keep such a low profile with him around!)

So, Alptraum finds himself in the trade port – a line of warehouses where some merchants have set up some Bazaar-style booths near where the Princess of Stygia has docked, as if specifically targeting its passengers for possible sales. (And given how many are buying up "souvenirs," it looks like a plan that works.)

It doesn't have the flamboyance or sheer size of the Bazaar back in Rephidim, but it does look like there are a number of products from places Alptraum has never been to – or even heard of – before. One fellow is selling crude thistlebark carvings from Kilmanjar. Another sells far more elaborate carvings of ivory from Bromthen. Another sells pearl necklaces from Gigi. And of course there are zolks and silks and fabrics of various grades and colors.

Fish. Lots of fish. If only Alptraum ate fish, he'd be in heaven. As he doesn't, however, the smell is off-putting.

Alptraum grins slightly, glad to be off the boat for a bit – he was starting to feel a bit restless. He wanders slowly through the bazaar, stopping now and then to peer at the unusual trinkets. His eyes keep a close lookout for some stand that might be from Babel, simply to satisfy his curiosity about the culture of his home.

All those lessons from Nekara just might pay off. As Alptraum looks about, he sees – right next to a stand laden with fireworks and a merchant loudly bragging that he guarantees that out of any ten fireworks, no more than one will be a dud – a number of crates stacked up to form "walls" of a sort, marking off an area where some young rough-looking Eeee have a hodge-podge collection of baubles and trinkets, including a large number of little Eeee figurines – most of them female. A poodle couple is already at this "booth," and the wife is eagerly going through the selection of baubles. It looks like they're buying up a sizeable portion of what the youths have for sale.

"That one's an antique," the oldest-looking Eeee says, a gray Eeee with a red spiral design about his right eye. "That's supposed to be the All-Seeing Eye of the Sabaoth. They don't make those anymore, you know."

Alptraum heads over towards the stand. He does, however, try to keep as wide a distance between himself and the Gallee as possible. Upon hearing the explanation, Alptraum tries to lean in and get a better look at the statue, namely the eyes and design.

The two other Eeee keep quiet for the most part, unless spoken to, and have the look about them of just being hired help – or guards against stick-fingered "customers." One of them has tan fur, with a claw-like pattern on his bare right shoulder, and the other is more a blonde color (with even lighter hair), marked by a stylized "lightning bolt" on his right cheek.

It turns out that the eldest Eeee is not referring to one of the statues, but rather to an amulet that the Gallee lady is holding up to the light. It is roughly triangular in overall design, an intricately carved pattern in ebony, with a stylized "eye" in its center. Alptraum can barely make out that some of the symbols represent the words that basically mean "Almighty" or "Sabaoth," and the "eye" glyph is self-explanatory. It's a system of "writing" far different than normal Babelite script, and much more complex, and something that the average Babelite isn't fully versed on – let alone Alptraum, given his newness to the whole language.

"For just fifty shekels," the Eeee salesman says…

"I'll take it!" the poodle lady yaps, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence.

Alptraum jaw opens, then closes. Oh well, so much for getting a chance at it. Well … hmm, he thinks. "If it's authentic, I'll give you sixty for it," Alptraum then says.

A mongrel dog-woman accompanying the poodles calmly reaches for the amulet to add to the collection of items she's accumulating in a basket under her arm, but stops at Alptraum's challenge to the sale.

The Eeee salesman raises an eyebrow at Alptraum's offer, and he exchanges glances with his fellows. The one with the lightning bolt says, "And even at that, it's a good deal!"

The salesman starts, "Now, I'd love to sell you it, but maybe I can find you another, lest I offend my very generous cust – "

"Seventy!" the poodle lady yaps. "I simply must have this!"

"Have it? What does it mean to you, hm? Seventy-five," Alptraum counters.

The poodle lady turns and looks down her nose at the apparently brown-furred Eeee who challenges her. "One hundred. And I don't think I like the sound of your accent. Where are you from?"

The lady's husband whispers, "Dear, that's the nice man who rescued those Nagai. Let's not cause a scene."

"I'm from lots of places, but I was born in Babel if you must know," Alptraum replies off-handedly.

"See?" she says to the salesman. "He didn't beat my offer. One hundred it is, then, and we'll be off."

The salesman's look of disappointment is obvious. "Oh! But you haven't even seen the fabrics yet. We have some very fine dresses… "

"Why do you want it? You're not an Eeee," Alptraum points out.

"Pay the gentleman, Parnella," the lady says to her mongrel attendant. The latter counts out several coins and presents them to the Eeee merchants. The two younger Eeee eagerly count them amongst themselves, while the elder one bows. "We thank you very sincerely for your generosity."

Alptraum holds out his hand, exasperated. "Let me take a look at it and if I like it, I'll beat her offer," Alptraum replies.

The Gallees are already leaving, however, and behind their backs, the salesman says, "Listen, it's just a bauble. If you want, we've got lots more from Babel. Some of it's even from the Temple of Inala."

Alptraum looks at the other Eeee. "Bauble or not, if it was authentic it's not right to sell it to them. It's our heritage," Alptraum says. He then shakes his head and says, "No thank you. I do not wish anything from Inala's temple."

"How about a dagger of Blakat, then?" the lightning-cheeked Eeee pipes up.

"No, that's all right. Thanks anyway," Alptraum responds, taking one moment to look over the trinkets one last time.

The spiral-eyed Eeee frowns. "Well, if you'd like to save some of our heritage, you're welcome to buy some of what's left – but it's not wise to cross a Gallee. They're on the side that won the war, and many of them are of the opinion that someone should 'finish the job.'"

"Hey, Spin, lighten up!" the one with the claw tattoo adds in. "The idols go cheap. Only twenty shekels each. Buy several, and we'll give you a discount for a whole set."

"I can't stand the Gallee. I've dealt with them before," Alptraum comments, then looks over the idols. "Have anything from the Temple of Sunala?" he asks.

The claw-shouldered Eeee looks nervous at this question. "Who's asking?" he squeaks.

The one identified as Spin, with the spiral design around his eye, says, "Most of these items are from the Yodhblakat raid on the Temple of Inala. Since the Yodhblakat stole them – and dropped them in their flight – they've been defiled in the eyes of the Yodhinala, and therefore can be sold without us risking our skins for it."

"My family once had a Yodhsunala come from it, so I'm just curious. I'm not trying to get you into trouble," Alptraum explains.

"Oh," the lightning-cheeked one squeaks, wincing slightly. "Sorry to hear that, buddy."

"She's dead now – I never knew her. Nothing to apologize for. I'm just curious about them, I guess," Alptraum admits.

"I've got some really nice red masks here," Spin goes on, indicating some masks clearly meant for Eeee to wear, with feminine features. "Also some fine … robes for that someone special." These "robes", if indeed they are meant to be worn by the Yodhinala, would probably be described by the Gallee as "lingerie." At least it fits with what Alptraum's been taught so far about these "priestesses."

Alptraum's eyebrow goes up at the offered items. "I don't want to sound offensive, but, are most things made in Babel so – feminine?" he inquires.

The salesman laughs. "Hardly! Hey, Striker, show him the armory."

The lightning-cheeked bat grins and hops off of the crate he's been perching on, and pulls the top open. "Got this when the Sword of Blakat's crew mutinied and the whole ship crashed into the Tower of Habar. Whoo-ee! That was a right mess." He pulls out what looks at first like several bug shells … but then Alptraum can see that, in fact, these are bits of armor and weapons made from the shells of some sort of bug or shellfish-like creatures.

Alptraum's eyebrow goes up again. "Interesting," he replies.

Striker straps one of these weapons to his forearm, engulfing his forearm in a curved shell-like guard, with spikes radiating out from it, and a long spine-blade jutting out from the front. From one side, a spiked, segmented whip protrudes. "You've got to be careful with this," he says. "Some fellows prefer them without the whip, until they get good with them. It's a ceremonial sort of weapon – traditional for the soldiers, you know, but I prefer fighting at range."

"Yes, I think I'd prefer my crossbow," Alptraum agrees. "Mind if I try one on?"

The claw-shouldered fellow helps pull out some pieces of armor, laying them out for Alptraum to see. It looks like Eeee armor is built to be light – mostly hardened leather, with a few pieces of shell to cover vital areas, plus some shell-like shoulder guards that protect not only the shoulders but the vulnerable bases of the wings.

"Sure!" Striker says, and unstraps the weapon from his forearm. He hands it over, showing the underside to Alptraum. "When these are first made, the inside of the shell's got so many pointy bits you'd cut yourself, so it has to take some cleaning and fixing up, but once that's done and the shell's treated, this is pretty hard material, and lasts for decades – though you have to oil the whip-cord, or it'll get brittle and pieces will break off. Here, you just put it over your forearm like so, and you grab this part that goes across – like a handle – for a firm grasp. These straps anchor it better to your arm, so it's not banging around. The padding inside is so you don't get bruised while blocking blows."

Spin throws in, "Don't be fooled by the 'whip' – It's not a real whip. It only has a very limited range of motion. If it didn't, you'd be whipping yourself every time you bring your arm back. Still, if you're really good, it can be useful for tangling a weapon."

Alptraum fits the weapon carefully over his hand, minding the instructions as he does so. Once on, he turns it slowly and examines it. "This seems just peculiar. I'm used to regular daggers and crossbows. But anyway, what would something like this cost?" he asks.

Spin says, "Well, once upon a time, it would cost many a pretty shekel, but what with Babel falling all to pieces now, well, you can get a pretty good bargain. Just 40 shekels."

"That doesn't seem too bad, no," Alptraum agrees, then slips the weapon off his arm and sets it back on the counter. "But, I don't think I can take such an item on the ship I'm traveling on. Plus, I think my sister would complain. What is news from Babel? Anything recent?"

"Since the High Princess died, and the place fell apart? Not much to tell," Spin says, frowning at Alptraum's decision against taking the weapon. "You know, we could always stick it in a crate for you. If you're not carrying it around, surely nobody is going to get worried about it."

"I'll have to think about it," Alptraum replies. "In any event, I should quit wasting your time. Thanks for showing me what you've got." He turns and starts walking away.

The rest of the morning is eaten up pretty effectively by Alptraum's exploration of the trade port and a look around the paquebot in general. Many ships are here from assorted places, though most of them appear to be from the continent he just came from – not from the one he's going to. He sees a couple of Jupani guards wearing uniforms similar to those worn back in Rephidim, standing next to a building flying the flags of the Star and Anchor – perhaps an embassy? – but it doesn't seem that anyone's on the lookout for him. (Or, at least, not a brown Eeee with his build.) As he hunts around, he finds another curious booth, where a canine woman – her body build more lanky than a Jupani – adorned in an outfit comprised heavily of leathers and feathers sells charms that, so far as Alptraum can tell, are meant to ward off nightmares.

Alptraum makes his way over to the unusual canine woman. "Good day. Your booth has caught my eye – may I inquire what you offer here?" he asks her.

The woman smiles at Alptraum, bowing her head. "A'Natur'Matu," she says. "I weave catchers of dreams, so that your sleep may not be troubled by nightmares."

Alptraum nods. "And what happens to the dreams that they catch?" he asks.

"The little dream-spider that comes to live in the catcher feeds on them," the woman says, "for it is a web, is it not?"

Alptraum nods again. "I suppose so. What would such an item cost?" he says. "Though I am not sure I should buy such a thing, for my name translates into 'Nightmare'," he jokes.

"Oh!" the woman says, then gives Alptraum a sympathetic look. "I do not know whether to say that I am sorry, for the matter of names is such that I never know whether it should be of pride or discomfort to have a name such as that. But to answer your question, you may have one for but 5 shekels. I have larger ones, with shiny beads and colorful feathers, which will catch dreams just as easily, but look more pretty atop your headboard or your perching post."

Alptraum rubs his neck for a moment, then says, "I'll buy a small one as a memento of my trip here." He then asks, "Which reminds me, may I ask where you're from? I like to keep track of where things I purchase are from."

"I am from the great golden plains – the place you mark on your maps as the 'Hekoye Nations.' Ah! Here, perhaps you would like this one," the woman offers, indicating one with several feathers of brown with black bands near the ends and snowy white tips. "The feathers compliment your beautiful hair, and your striking eyes," she says.

Alptraum fidgets, then nods, "Yes, it does. Rare to find things that match my eyes – rare color. But, would you have something that is pure black and white?"

At this, for some reason the Hekoye woman starts, but then she says, "Yes, but those are only for the darkest of dreams. It is best not to use such a web unless you are plagued by the most dire of nightmares, and subject to Matu's most grievous torments. Otherwise, you may find that it draws such nightmares to you if your sleep is otherwise pleasant."

"Sounds like just what I need," Alptraum admits. "I've often had horrible dreams. It would be good to finally be free of them. What would such cost?"

The Hekoye woman nods, then says, "Feathers from the snow Creen and the death's herald, very rare to come by. Twenty shekels is what I ask."

"It's a fair price," Alptraum says, fetching twenty shekels from his pouch. He offers it to the woman.

The woman nods and smiles gratefully, taking the shekels. "Here you are," she says, taking down the webbed hoop. The little black and white beads worked into the strands click and clatter as some of them rattle against each other, and the hoop feels surprisingly weighty in Alptraum's hands – not from the feathers, of course, but because the hoop itself is made of some particularly dense sort of wood, it seems.

Alptraum bows to the woman. "I thank you, kind woman. I hope this does indeed spare me from my dreams," he tells her. He then turns and walks away, going back to being a tourist.

The rest of the morning slips away, and then, when noon comes around, Alptraum wisely slips off back to the Princess of Stygia, in order to get "lunch" without having to deal with prying eyes.

After a quick private lunch, Alptraum does some checking around, and surreptitiously locates the cabin of both the poodle couple he ran across earlier, as well as the cabin of the Spirit mage, Ariel Azale. Then, he stops by Nekara's cabin. Sure enough, she's there. (She seems largely content to stay by herself.) "Yes?" she inquires while he's on the other side of the door.

"It's just me," comes Alptraum's reply. "What can you tell me about an amulet called the All-Seeing Eye of the Sabaoth?"

The door opens, revealing Nekara on the other side. The cabin is dark, save for several burning candles about the room. In other words, not unusual for her. Probably yet another ritual. "Doing more research, are we? Please do come in. And the All-Seeing Eye of the Sabaoth was the emblem of the Sabaoth, ruler of Babel – until his demise."

"I went off-ship, yes," Alptraum says as he enters the room. "There was a booth selling trinkets from Babel; the amulet was one. A good amount of the other stuff supposedly came from some Blakat raid on an Inala temple or some such. A Gallee bought the amulet."

Nekara closes the door, and her expression sours (that is, more so than usual) upon Alptraum's report. "They were selling … artifacts from Inala's temple? To even claim such a thing is blasphemy. What has Babel come to?"

"Falling apart, from what they said," Alptraum replies with a shrug. "I tried to rescue the amulet, but I didn't have the funds to do so. Just wanted to check with you, in case the amulet might be important. They didn't have anything from Sunala's temple, if that's any consolation."

Nekara shakes her head. "I sincerely doubt that they would have any treasures of the Sabaoth himself. If so, they would not be selling them on a paquebot. Likely, it was just an amulet worn by one of his house guard or attendants, who pawned it off – or had it forcibly removed. And, yes, it is good to hear they had nothing from Sunala's temple. If they did, I would need leave the ship and deal with the matter."

"And you tell me to keep out of trouble," Alptraum replies. "Say, do you know what a 'death's herald' is? There was a Jupani selling items made with the feathers."

"It is an exalted name for a 'raven,' as I believe it would be called in Sylvania. It is but a black bird that looks very similar to a Korv. There are some people, obviously isolated from the rest of the world, who have peculiar associations with certain animals such as that," Nekara says. "And, no, its feathers have no special properties, however certain people may believe otherwise."

"Fair enough. Can I ask what you're doing in here? aren't you worried you might alert the mage?" Alptraum inquires.

"The best time for my prayers," Nekara insists, "is when the mage is off of the ship, and off to find 'knickknacks' and watch fireworks on the paquebot."

"You know, she's rather a nice person," Alptraum comments. "Are you going to watch the fireworks later?"

"No, I do not think so," Nekara says. "I wish to keep focused on my duties, and not be distracted by pointless amusements."

"I'm going to go. I didn't think trying to find some happiness in the world as pointless, but … your choice. If you want to talk to me later, you'll be able to find me there," Alptraum says.

Nekara nods silently at this. "So be it. And I will be here."

"All right. See you around sometime, then," Alptraum replies, then heads to the door. He opens it, then slips outside.

After visiting Nekara, Alptraum goes to visit the door of the poodle couple to ask after the amulet. However, it seems that they haven't come back yet from their daytrip to the paquebot.

Alptraum heads on back to his own room, having run out of things he can think of to do. After a quick check to make sure his stuff is still hidden and in place, he hangs up his dream catcher on the headboard of the bed. He then flops down onto the bed and curls his wings around his body, then yawns. "A nice nap, then I'll catch the fireworks and maybe find some folks to chat with for the evening," he mutters to himself, then closes his eyes.

Whatever Nekara's claim about the lack of potency of Death's Herald feathers, the dream web seems to do a good enough job of giving Alptraum a peaceful rest. As the light coming through the porthole darkens, he starts to stir … and then he hears a voice loudly caw in his ear, "So, you got 'im yet?" Or, at least, he thinks that's what the voice said. It's one of those weird waking experiences, after all…

"No, I haven't got him yet," Alptraum mumbles softly. "I'm trying to track the necromancer I suspect is him, but I can't find anyone who can trace the imprint on an object we recovered. I think it's his because this one also seems obsessed with using objects to give him magic power." He then blinks and looks around, realizing that must've been Klaus asking.

A shadow passes before the porthole, then is gone. Alptraum can guess that the sun is starting to set now, and if he wants to see it, he'll have to hurry.

Alptraum blinks repeatedly, then uncurls his wings and slips out of bed quickly. Since he didn't undress, he just hurries to the door, then out. Up the stairs he goes, to the deck.

"Don't let Klaus show up. Not now!" he thinks as he heads up.

"AIEEEEEEE!" comes a shriek from somewhere upstairs.

Alptraum can make out some sort of jabbering voice … in a distinctively Chronotopian, Korvite accent.

Crud, comes Alptraum's next thought. He runs upwards now, realizing he has to get rid of that ghost before the mage gets back.

Up on the deck, Alptraum sees no sign of the Korv, but he does see a plump Khattan merchant leaning against the railing, clutching his chest. "G-g-g-g-g… " he stammers, eyes wide, fur bristled.

Alptraum runs over to the merchant, eyes wide. "What happened?" he inquires, grabbing the Khatta to keep him from falling over.

The Khatta yowls in surprise as Alptraum rushes up, then pats Alptraum's shoulders, as if assuring himself that the bat is solid. "Ah, may the First Ones forgive me, that I should think any soul should slip from Their grasp on the way to the Procession, but, and I say this with many apologies at my humble ignorance – I did see a ghost!"

"I've seen such peculiarities before too, friend. What exactly did you see? Where did it go?" Alptraum asks, his ears canting some to listen for any sounds of flapping wings.

"Ah, but he looked like a Korv, decked out like a corsair, and I thought at first he was coming for my purse, but I tell you, by the glow in his eyes, and that I could see the setting sun through his feathers – he was a ghost!" the plump Khatta howls. "By the Scimitar and Dagger, I swear to you, this was no mortal man!"

Alptraum nods and says, "We're at sea. I'm sure many pirates haunt these waters. Did the it touch you?"

"No, that it didn't, thank my lucky stars! Surely I would have been struck dead on the spot!" the Khatta yowls, then staggers away from the rail. "I shall go find the temple and offer up an offering to the First Ones for sparing my miserable life!"

"Where did it go!?" Alptraum nearly screams this time.

The Khatta's tail bristles back out now. "I … I don't know! I did not see him leave. I hid my eyes from him, fearing that if I met his gaze, he might drain my soul from my body! Oh, stars! I was this close to becoming a soulless mindless husk, a minion of the nether regions! I must go at once to offer up prayers of thanks to my ancestors for sparing me! And you would do well to offer up prayers as well, for the ghost could well have slain you, too!" And with that, he starts for the gangplank, chattering out long and verbose prayers in … well … whatever language it is those Khattas speak in.

Alptraum lets out a long sigh, then launches himself airborne. I have to find that ghost before he causes more trouble. Gah, if the Spirit mage sees him – I'll have a lot of explaining to do, he thinks. Quickly, he starts scanning the skies with eyes and ears.

The sun is now setting, as the sky turns blood red. There's a shrill whistle as something shoots up into the sky and explodes in a burst of sparkles that rain back down over the water.

As Alptraum flies this way and that, he momentarily hears a Korv's caw. One might wonder if there were any other Korvs on the paquebot … but the way it makes his spine tingle suggests to him the nature of this Korv call. It's down below, in one of the "alleys" near the trade-port.

Alptraum's wings fold in some and he dives downward, toward the alley. When he gets close, his wings snap out wide and he settles in for a landing, ears listening intently for movement.

In between crackling fireworks and distant singing of Unity Day anthems, Alptraum picks up a drunken cawing slur. He also picks up the scent of … alcohol. And, over there, is an avian shade, propped up on some upturned crates, with several bottles – most of them not yet opened – arranged about him. The Korv shade upends a bottle into his blackened beak, letting the amber fluid pour in … and it makes a hissing, sizzling noise, as it pours right in – and out again through his back, puddling and staining the bare wood of the crates. The Korv, however, despite not keeping any of the alcoholic content in his body, cackles and crows as if he were thoroughly inebriated.

"Klaus Schmidt!" Alptraum says, heading toward the Korv. "What do you think you are doing? This isn't helping anything and you're causing a scene!" His muscles tense in preparation to whack the ghost and get him to disperse.

The Korv's head lolls, as he turns to look at Alptraum, and giggles, cawing something in Chronotopian. Apparently Alptraum doesn't get a translation while he's conscious.

Alptraum sighs softly and keeps closing the distance. Keeping an eye on the Korv's weapons, he reaches out toward the ghost, trying to touch it.

The Korv, despite seeming inebriated, is surprisingly fast … or perhaps it's that Alptraum stepped in a puddle of spilled spirits during his attempt to approach the Korv. The Korv lets out an angry **KAW!** and takes the most immediate item in hand to hit the Eeee with for his impudence: a bottle. The glass survives the impact, and so does Alptraum's head, but this results in a bit of the bottle's contents being spilled on the bat, as the ghostly Korv loudly takes to the air, cawing and flapping, angrily abandoning his "cache."

"Aaagh," growls Alptraum and stumbles backwards, clutching his head. "I'm going to get that… ," Alptraum says, switching rapidly into Sylvanian cursing. He shakes his head, regaining his bearings.

The Korv, alas, has disappeared again. No telling where he's off to now…

Alptraum goes airborne again, now relying mostly on his ears to locate the Korv. He tries to fly low as he searches, to stay out of the fireworks.

Alptraum flies along, and sees the shadowy Korv heading toward some costumed dancers, chuckling to himself. If Alptraum had taken any longer, most assuredly, he'd be able to follow the screams.

The shade Korv soars along, chattering something in Chronotopian, then hiccupping.

Alptraum's silver eyes narrow and he accelerates his flight toward the Korv. "Fine, I'll fly through him" he thinks, lips pulled back into a snarl.

The Korv turns about just in time to see Alptraum bearing on him. He makes an alarmed RAWK! just as Alptraum slams into him … and then the Korv pirate explodes in a burst of black feathers which just as quickly crumble to dust.

Although he gets a face full of dust, Alptraum manages to avoid any mishaps, such as flying into a wall or other such painful embarrassment. However, he hears several shouts, and when he clears his eyes, he sees a number of people pointing at him and gawking.

This isn't good. Nekara's going to kill me, Alptraum thinks ruefully. He beats his wings hard, trying to fly away from the crowd as fast as he can. As he flaps, he realizes something and takes a moment to pull some strands of hair in front of his eye, hopeful the booze didn't ruin the dye job.

Maybe Alptraum will do better to check in a mirror. Flying after sundown with fireworks going off here and there doesn't give him the best means to be absolutely certain about the color of a few hairs plucked from his head and held in front of his face.

Grumbling softly, he propels himself through the air toward the ship. Straight to the room. Don't stop and talk, he tells himself.

Nobody interferes with Alptraum on his way back, and the deck is clear of any gawkers.

Alptraum lands quickly and makes a mad dash for his room. He flings the door open and runs straight towards the mirror then looks in it. Please, please, please, still be dyed, he thinks.

Although Alptraum is very pungent, and smells like he's been boozing, his dye is still intact … though now that he's looking at it more intently, he does notice that the hair is starting to lighten at the roots.

Alptraum lets out a sigh of relief. He then walks back and closes his door. "Better get cleaned up," he mutters, then does so, trying to remove most of the stench of the booze.

The rest of Alptraum's evening is, compared to the sort of madness that often punctuates his holidays as of late, "uneventful." He hears some rumors floating about a "Ghost Korv" and a "Ghost Eeee," but nobody points at him and cries, "It's HIM!" or any such thing, so perhaps he hasn't been connected to the incident. A few Gallees still turn up their noses when he passes, despite his best attempts to watch the smell of liquor out of his clothes and fur. Still, he manages to hook up with Autumn-Storm and find a good spot from which to watch the fireworks, and to catch some of the dances and merry-making. All in all, despite the trouble … it's a very nice holiday.

Alptraum makes his way back to his room, yawning softly but still smiling. It's probably been one of the best nights he's had in a long time. Almost like being home – a chance to hear good music and to dance with friends. Well, he tries to dance; it's not something he's quite got the hang of. But still, it was fun. After undressing, he collapses onto his bed in a sprawl. His silver eyes close, and the Eeee drifts off into welcome sleep.