The mid-day sun shines down on a solitary figure sprawled in the middle of a crater which, in turn, is but another crater among many in a much larger crater about the size of a football field, but fairly shallow for its breadth. Not that it's a crater worth describing in such detail. There are plenty to choose from. The solitary figure is much more interesting.

The figure stirs, slowly at first, then sits up perhaps a little too suddenly. Groaning, he raises an arm to rub a bump on his head.

The earth is ground up, a few stubborn, scraggly plants hanging onto life here and there. The sky above is blue, except for streaks of wispy clouds … and a band of sparkling spots that stretches from horizon to horizon … much as if the moon had been blasted into tiny bits and spread out in a long line.

Francisco finishes nursing his bruise, and goes on to inspect the rest of himself. He sighs in relief as he finds that he at least has all of his 5 tails and a form he can live with. "Could have been worse," he muses to himself.

Somewhere in the distance, a sound can be heard … something like a wind instrument, a flute of some sort, but deeper, more resonant, with a more "breathy" sound. It is soon joined by a chorus of others, all different pitches, but forming a chord.

The five-tailed fox cocks his head at the sound, trying to determine where the noise is coming from, but after listening for a couple of moments turns back to continue looking over himself, practically whining in dismay in the stark realisation of mud on his best shirt.

The sounds disappear, leaving the fox alone in the crater. The wind blows up a cloud of dust and sand, ripped up from some of the exposed patches of ground that the scant vegetation can't hold down.

Francisco sighs, spitting out sand from his mouth, then getting up to try and brush off as much filth as he can from him. Looking all around him, he mumbles, "Yep – just got worse."

Another long hoot can be heard, just over a ridge formed by the rim of stubborn earth standing amidst a cluster of craters.

The fox's ears perk again, as this time he has an idea of where the noise is coming from. After brushing off as much muck from himself as possible, he starts to make his way slowly towards the noise's source

The earth breaks away in some places where it has been turned into sandy powder, but in patches here and there – mostly accompanied by plants – it provides a better foothold. At last, the fox makes it to the top of a crest amongst the craters, at the rim of a particularly deep one. At the bottom can be seen a jumble of gleaming white … objects. At first glance, they resemble a cluster of alien skulls, looking roughly spheroid, with several sockets visible here and there, but there's something artificial about them, too smooth to be bone. The hoot can be heard again, more loudly, coming from the direction of the pile of melon-sized objects.

The path down isn't all that far, really, but it's a bit steep. By the breaking of the dirt on another part of the edge of the crater, it looks as if the pile of whatever-they-ares must have been rolled in from the far side, and landed, scattering at the bottom.

Francisco pauses at the rim of the crater, trying to locate exactly where the noise is coming from. His eyes scan over the objects searching for movement or any sign of life. Finding none, he starts to walk around the rim.

Nothing moves down there. But another hoot comes from the middle of the crater. The sound is definitely coming from there. It sounds artificial, only at a single tone, not like the whole chorus heard earlier.

The kitsune's eyes narrow slightly hearing the noise again, and he goes back to the path down into the crater to head down into it.

Closer, it can be seen that while the objects are different sizes, there is some uniformity in the "sockets" that each sports. It's like they're some sort of oversized plastic construction toy, as some of the pieces are plugged together, a section of them resembling some sort of leg or other limb. One piece looks like a stylized head of some sort of animal with a long snout and a bottleneck opening for a "mouth" … from which the long "hoot" emits again. Two large recessed circles suggest eyes, with smaller orbs set within them.

Francisco crouches down to inspect one of the objects, thoroughly confused at what these things are. He hesitantly puts out a finger to touch the object.

The object feels smooth, very much like plastic … or maybe ivory. There is an ever-so-faint vibration that can be felt only after a moment's examination. *HOOT*

With a slight jump, Francisco withdraws his paw quickly, just startled by the noise. After a moment, he reaches out again for the object picking it up.

The object is rather light. Upon lifting it, it is apparent that it, too, has a socket like the other pieces, just that the socket was on the underside. The faint vibration can still be felt, but there are no more "hoots" for the time being.

Francisco frowns at the object, turning it in his hands and looking the whole thing over. "What is this place?" he wonders out loud as he places the object back on the ground.

The object lets out a long HOOT again, but other than that, there is no sound other than the wind gusting over the tortured earth.

The fox carries on walking amongst the scattered objects, looking for some clue as to what these things are. Or, in fact, a clue to where he actually is.

The objects seem to offer little clue as to where the fox may be. The sky probably offers more information, but that would just be to suggest that the fox is very, very far away from home … or else his world has just undergone one MAJOR cataclysm. As for the objects, they are in various shapes though of similar, seamless construction. They have an odd appearance of somehow being organic in form, yet solid and artificial. It seems pretty clear now that the objects must plug together, though with the fairly uniform socket sizes (with few variations), there's no clue as to just what part is supposed to connect to which … or whether one would really even want to. There's no sign of an instruction manual.

Francisco scans around the crater floor for anything else that might lend itself to be a clue, but all he sees are the strange objects and no rhyme or reason to accompany them. Shaking his head, he goes back to the path out of the crater

The way up out of the crater is a bit slow-going, as bits of earth break away under the fox's feet, but at last, with another plaintive hoot coming from behind him, he makes it to the far rim. More ground stretches out, with more craters here and there, but the ground seems to be fairly level for quite some distance, until it crests at a hill … and then what the land looks like past that can't be seen just yet.

Taking a final look over his shoulder at the crater, the fox starts to walk towards the hill – hoping to find some form of intelligence. Failing that, a dry cleaners.

The barren terrain gives little sign of intelligence for quite some distance. Cresting the hill … reveals more hills. At least the hills are not particularly steep, and the craters are scattered enough to easily avoid.

Sighing again, the kitsune treks onwards, watching all around him as he goes – still hearing the occasional noise behind him.

The hoots die away, lost in the wind. However, more sounds can be heard … scuffling in the sand? Or maybe that's just one of those dustdevils swirling by. Then … over the next hill, some distance away, several shapes – some dark, some shiny – can be seen moving into view … rolling!

Francisco pauses at the top, holding a hand above his eyes to block out glare from the sun, looks down to watch these things

Horns blare … not anything like the chorus of hoots heard earlier, but this time more like trumpet fanfare. Larger spheres can be seen rolling over the hill now, these large enough to hold several of the smaller ones – - or the fox himself, if they were hollow. The larger ones are shiny, reflecting in the sunlight, apparently made of brightly-colored patches of some sort of shell-like material.

Francisco watches the objects as they move closer to where he is standing. Still unsure as to what they are, he decides to wait there for a bit and just observe for now.

The objects roll along, but are not getting any closer for now. Instead, they are rolling along a course that might be considered roughly perpendicular to his path of travel. It's hard to tell, but unless the sounds of horns were such an indication, there is otherwise no sign that the fox's presence has been noted.

There's something … alive … about the smaller spheres, the way they roll about in nearly random paths, sometimes running circles around the larger spheres. Any one of them would be, on the average, about half Francisco's size. The larger spheres, by contrast, follow relatively slow and straight paths – and, upon further examination, they seem to be not moving on their own, but with the help of occasional shoves by the smaller rolling entities, less so as they roll downhill for the time being.

He considers his options for a few moments, looking to the objects, then back off into the distance. On one paw, he may be able to find out from them where on Earth he is, but if on Earth, how would whoever they are react to his appearance?

Francisco sighs inwardly. "Decisions, decisions… ," he mutters, then after another moment, starts to head towards the rolling things.

As the fox starts to approach, a couple of the spheres – both of them of the spiny variety – stop rolling. There are some noises … talking? In some unintelligible tongue, tending toward a higher pitch, it seems. Some of the other spheres change course, but as it seems that, for the time being, Francisco is not approaching any more closely, they resume their regular route, going up the next hill. It is fairly easy to keep pace with them at their current rate.

There's something else the fox notices, though … something floating up in the sky. It looks as if there are several clusters of vegetation … that are simply floating along as if they were hot air balloons. They are going in the same direction (and at the same pace) as the rolling spheres, by all indications.

Francisco continues to follow them, keeping at a safe distance and watching them carefully. What they are is still a mystery to him.

The group continues in this manner for quite some time, perhaps hours. As the fox begins to tire, something curious happens (as if that is unusual compared to what has happened before so far) – It begins to snow.

Or, at least, that's how it at first seems. The air is cool, but not nearly cool enough to snow, or even sleet. And, the few flakes that strike the fox do not feel cold or wet, and do not melt.

Francisco pauses his pursuit, part for rest, part to take a look at this odd precipitation. Cupping his hands, he captures a few flakes – it looks like snow, but it doesn't feel like snow. He brings his paws up to his mouth and gets a couple of flakes on his tongue. Even on his tongue, they do not melt -they just remain flakes.

The flakes taste faintly rice-like, remotely like some sort of bread. Whatever it is, it must be of vegetable origin … and it seems to be raining down from those floating "gardens" in the sky. The spheres have stopped rolling, and there are several exclamations from the strange creatures … as several of them unroll, revealing people about half Francisco's size, some of them resembling porcupines, and the others hinting at armadillos, each of them quasi-humanoids, rushing about and gathering up the flakes.

The "sky gardens" have stopped moving – or at least are drifting too slowly to notice – and are presently hovering far above the group. The creatures rush over to the larger spheres and begun to unroll them … revealing bright colors and miscellaneous materials and junk. It would seem that a camp is being pitched right here in the middle of nowhere.

The kitsune blinks, and is caught pondering to either stand where he is, or head for cover. He decides to remain where he is, stock still, since cover does not seem to be an option out here, and wait to see what they do next.

In the course of a few minutes, apparently flimsy shelters are set up, and banners are run up poles, fluttering in the wind that gusts along the ground, but which must not be affecting the floating entities above. The creatures scurry about in a frenzy of activity, alternately setting up the camp, grabbing pawfuls of the strange stuff … and cramming it enthusiastically into their mouths.

Francisco continues to watch, now becomming pretty convinced that he's quite far from home now. These are certainly creatures that he has never ever come across before.

One shelter is larger and more garishly decorated than the rest, with bits of chitinous material of all different colors, some translucent so that they do interesting things with light. Before this shelter is set up a stage … and then what looks like a semi-spherical throne, upon which is seated a very slowly-moving armadillo-type adorned in much jewelry and drapery, holding a staff from which dangle numerous "rings" made from pieces of shell. Occasionally, when he is aiming to get someone's attention, he pounds the base of the staff onto the stage, causing the shells to clink and clatter together.

Eventually, the squinty-eyed armadillo seems to get to looking in Francisco's direction. Well, staring, really. He says something unintelligible to the ones who must be his servants, waving his staff in the fox's direction, making questioning and then commanding tones.

Francisco swallows, and looks around – hoping that the gesture was to someone else

There's a distinct lack of persons behind Francisco. It would seem he's the object of increasing attention. A few of the creatures are approaching, and not with the timidity that might be expected with their size compared to such a "strange" person as Francisco. But then, perhaps he's not strange at all, as they hardly fit the description of "normal"…

The fox takes a couple of slow steps backwards, hoping to show that he's not any kind of threat.

As the fox moves back, the creatures jog a little faster, talking in their chittering voices, some reaching out toward him. They don't appear to be "armed" in the conventional sense, but it would seem that their forms – some with natural armor, some with sharp-looking spikes – would provide that already.

Francisco moves back away from them a little more, but is concentrating perhaps slightly too much on spiky pointy things that he stumbles backwards.

Fortunately, there's nothing behind Francisco except for dirt, scraggly vegetation, and a few flakes of the strange stuff from the sky. No spiky creatures are standing behind him, but they all close in quickly, encircling the fox. Stubby hands reach in, patting at him. They seem to have a particular interest in his tails.

Francisco ois! at them, perhaps a little bit louder than he meant to, and wraps his tails around his legs away from them.

The "armadillos" appear to be squeezing in … and also appear to be working on hefting the fox up on their (relatively) broad shoulders! All the while, they're talking, but no translation is immediately available.

He 'erf?'s in confusion as he doesn't feel the ground beneath him anymore. "Hey? What gives?" he asks them.

The fox is borne along … toward the throne. He can't see it immediately from his position (though he has a nice view of the sky), but he can hear the repeated pounding and clinking of that staff getting louder and presumably closer. At last, he is set down on the stage, which is put together from some sort of material which looks remotely bone-like … but considering how flat the planks are, it can't be. Perhaps some sort of plastic, though these just don't seem the sorts to have the facilities for making plastic.

The creatures back away, leaving the fox before the seated armadillo- creature. The planks provide nothing to offer a soft seat beneath him … but the creature's "throne" is similarly without any sort of cushion. The creature with the staff begins to talk loudly to Francisco – again, in some language beyond his comprehension.

Francisco shrugs lightly. "Well, since I'm here now," he thinks.

Francisco thrusts out his right hand, holding it steady at a slight angle. "Um, Hai there!" he says.

The creatures all back away, letting out a collective gasp, and muttering amongst themselves. The one on the throne raises one eyebrow high enough so that it's possible to see that he actually has an eye under those furrowed wrinkles, and he lets out a cross between a snort and a grunt. He shakes his staff again, then points at Francisco, making a querying sound.

Francisco tilts his head to one side? "Y'know – hai? Hello? Greetings and salutations?" he prompts, and attempts to demonstrate the shaking-hands gesture with his other hand.

The creature grumps, following Francisco's gesture, then points at him and says, "SALUTATIONS!" He points at himself, and says something that sounds like "Zarziant".

The creatures all say, in a loud chorus, "SALUTATIONS!"

The fox uh-huhs, nodding a little. "Yeah. Ok. Pleased to meet you, Zarziant – though that's not quite how that hand thing goes." He reaches out his hand again to the creature.

The creature waves his staff and rattles the rings menacingly at the fox's outstretched hand. He utters another long series of words, followed by "SALUTATIONS" at the end, all in capital letters.

"Salutations, yes I know," Francisco says, gesturing again slightly with his hand. "The rest – I haven't a clue what you are on about."

Francisco muses to himself, "and you probably haven't a clue what I'm on about either."

The creature looks at Francisco a bit longer, then appears to look increasingly bored. He barks something at those nearby, spurring the crowd into action again. Some more armadillos approach, with apparent intent to ferry the fox around again as before.

Francisco hears them coming, and turns to look at them, and holds up his hands at them. "Hey, hey… I can walk, you know."

The armadillos, however, show no sign of understanding … and away the fox goes!

Francisco struggles against them a little, then since he is pretty exhausted from having followed them for most of the day, sighs and decides to let it be for the moment. Might as well use the time to rest slightly.