At the Artists' Homestead

Constable Pal'dun takes a roundabout route on purpose, heading well west before circling around and approaching the Artists' Square area from the opposite side. He also takes a lot of detours to avoid the main routes. It is late afternoon (well past lunchtime) by the time the van rolls up the narrow street behind Mon'Fargret's home/studio.

"The triasks promised they'd watch the place," says Mey'Luskar. "I'm sure it's okay!"

"Even triasks can be bought," retorts Dabid flatly.

As he says this, a girl can be seen walking along the narrow, empty street with the characteristic swaying gait of a triask not far away. Considering the street is little more than an alley, she looks a bit out of place.

"He does have a point," says Constable Pal'dun.

"Her heart is true," says Bina quietly. "There's no betrayal...and no danger."

"Of course!" says Mey'Luskar pointedly, glaring at Dabid. "Never underestimate Yangae honor!"

Dabid only tosses his head in reply.

"Alright then," says Pal'dun, and he unseals the doors. "I guess I'm leaving all of you here. What you do from here on is up to you, but let us know if anything happens...and please try to stay out of trouble!"

(UPDATE: For the record, now that the graphic is up, the party entered the compound through the gate from the alley at lower right, behind the house.)

Relocating Again

After a little bit more minor quibbling, the group decides to take Constable Pal'dun up on his offer, and they follow him outside the building.

Considering the less than ideal state of the club, the grounds outside the building look quite nice, if a bit gloomy. It is pretty easy to tell that it is up in the Tuli Hills area overlooking Danstul' Park; beyond the sculpted lawns and gardens there is little to be seen but tree-covered hills and the upper stories of a couple of rather old-looking, Yangae-style towers. The building in which the club is housed is of similar style and age, and it is actually rather stately.

There are a number of vehicles parked in a haphazard fashion. Most of them are Peace Force vans, bikes, and cruisers, but there are also a few more ordinary-looking cars and a microbus. The Geishana ambulances are just now starting to get underway. Tellingly, there is a garage/hangar structure nearby, and its one open door shows only an empty space.

Dauk can be seen getting into a Peace Force cruiser that is obviously preparing to leave. Pru, on the other hand, appears to be walking toward the gate to the estate at a slow pace.

As the group makes its way toward one of the vans, Pal'dun gestures to the nearby officers, and they salute and step aside. Before anyone can board, however, Pal'dun comes to a halt and holds up his hand.

The sound of running, booted feet can be heard. It's Constable Betham. Drawing near to the group, he heaves a heavy sigh and does a little dance of irritation before he says, "You're leaving, are you? Alright then. Just be careful and stay out of trouble, would you? And stay in touch! This isn't over yet."

"You mean we haven't beaten it yet?" says Lirassa sarcastically.

Psy-gifted or not, Betham shows no sign of getting the joke. Glaring, he leans in closer and adds more quietly, "Maybe this is a temporary victory. We still have two very big problems here. One, Mas'Vallaf is still missing, and it looks like he has his top thugs with him. Two, Br'am was right about one point; Par'ai said it was all happening at the Scarlet Revival. This is the Scarlet Revival, and it's not the place we're looking for. As far as evidence is concerned, we've got til'uan droppings. You know we're gonna need a lot more than that to even make a case."

"If I may," says Pal'dun, "there's still the Second Chancer videos. They're coming out in a few days! We can try to delay them, but..."

"But we'd end up knee-deep in political kĕl'wàk," spits Betham. "We've got no case. Curse it, we don't even know who's distributing the damned things! Bottom line, we need anything we can get. Any tidbit of info. You find something, you let me know! And don't try to take any action on your own! We barely got out of this one, right? Best path!" With that, he bows stiffly, turns on his heel, and stomps off.

"Right," says Pal'dun. He gestures toward the van. "Shall we go?"

Decisions

The Geishana start hauling the wounded outside, and the fully conscious Yangae militiamen gather themselves up to go. As for the Hergoth Peace Forcers, there seem to be more now than there were before, and they are either performing police work, helping the Geishana, or just milling about looking around in wonder.

Dauk and Pru approach the party a bit hesitantly, Dauk with a bit of a limp. Seeing this, Constable Pal'dun comes as well.

After a wary glance at Pal'dun, Dauk looks at Mon'Fargret, bows awkwardly, and says, "My lord, I meant what I said. We want this thing gone. Until then, we all have a common cause. I don't know if the Hergs will respect that, but I know you will."

Zeton, who has been fiddling with his wrister on and off for the past several minutes, finally heaves a sigh of relief as a welcome tone sounds. Then he can be heard speaking Yangae quietly.

Pel'dun raises the visor of his helmet and says, "I think lack of respect is the root of a lot of our problems right now."

"Just how deep is that root?" wonders Dauk. "Alright, Constable. For now at least we'll leave that one buried. I need to go with my team to the hospital. I'm sure they'll be wanting to ask questions." He makes a face as if the words tasted awful. "Allow me to give you a code so you can contact me." He starts fiddling with his wrister.

"I need to go too," says Pru. "My team...you know." She draws a breath and lets it out slowly. "I'd like to meet up with you later. Where are you going next?" She glances at Pal'dun. "You are going, aren't you?"

Pal'dun shrugs. "I don't see why not. But I'd like to have an idea where you're going in case something comes up."

During the ensuing pause, Zeton can be heard saying to his wrister, "You know the spot, we recently had lunch there. Shall we meet there, in say an hour?"

There are some looks of surprise and of confusion. Then Lirassa says, "Do you think they'll even let us in?"

"Where?" asks Pru, puzzled at everyone's reaction.

Same Song, Fifteen Thousandth Verse

This time the group makes the trip back to the club the old fashioned way: They walk. True to Dusker's word, all the security features have been deactivated. There is no sign of the vambli as the group goes down the stairs and circles around through what are apparently preparation and waiting rooms for club staff or performers. (There is, however, the rather mangled corpse of a Peace Force patrolman.) They enter the club through the door next to the bar.

The first thing that greets them on their return is a look on Betham's face that could wilt a hillside in the Goer'dan cloud forest.

"You let him get away," he growls, "didn't you?"

"That's right," replies Par'deth calmly. "He's more use to us out there than here."

"Oh, I'm sure," says Betham testily. "Especially if he starts shooting people, assuming he doesn't wind up getting blown away first. Really useful!"

"I trust his honor," says Par'deth.

"If he gave you his word," says Dauk, "I'm sure he'll keep it."

"Unless he changes his mind," suggests Detective Gar'en.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?" says Pru. "You calling him a liar?"

"I'm only stating a possibility," replies Gar'en.

"What possibility?" demands Pru.

"He thinks Yangae honor means dirt," suggests Blue Yangae D with a mocking giggle. "Same old story!"

"There are no absolutes," says Constable Pal'dun. "Honor means different things to different people. If Par'deth..."

"Different things?" says Blue Yangae D, his voice starting to rise. "Maybe among you Hergs! You can't make up your minds, can you? That's why you have to have someone else control them for you all the time!" He gestures toward the priestesses.

"We do NOT control people's minds!" spits Bina. Keil'i quickly grabs her arm.

"Don't bother," says one of the yellow-marked Yangae on the floor weakly. "They'll never understand."

"No, they won't, will they?" says Blue Yangae D. "But we still have to live by their rules, don't we?"

"I didn't think they had rules," says Dauk with a chuckle.

"Of course we do!" says Constable Pal'dun, his calm demeanor cracking. "Why do you think we're here?"

"To protect your own!" replies Blue Yangae D. "You don't give a clod about us!"

"Why do you think we're here?" adds Dauk. "Fair is fair, right?"

"You aren't sanctioned," retorts Detective Gar'en. He nods toward the yellow-marked Yangae on the floor. "You're also a security risk!"

"The warrrrr has begunnnnn," sings Wari.

"We're a necessary evil," replies Dauk.

"You're a public nuisance!" counters Gar'en. "That's an arrestable offense!"

"You mean like your Blues?" demands Blue Yangae D. "Have you arrested any of them? How much protection have you given us against them? None! Bad enough they're scaring people off the streets and out of their businesses south of the river! Now they're here in Ekr'in, and you guys just look the other way every time!"

"The Blues will no longer give you any trouble," says Par'deth.

"I'll vouch for that," admits Pru.

"Well, I appreciate that!" says Dauk sincerely. "They were honorable enough regarding the others in your team, Pru. I'll give them that."

"It's a start," snarls Blue Yangae D.

"What more do you want?" asks Bina impatiently.

Blue Yangae D eyes her sourly before snarling, "Not much point in mentioning it."

Suddenly everyone is jarred to silence by the crash of a table thrown halfway across the room. Trying to collect his composure, Betham looks at his trembling gauntlets and says, "I don't give a flaming lump what you or anyone else here wants! In case you pack of gits can't figure it out, we still have a problem! Last time I checked, the problem was more serious for you than for us! Am I mistaken here?" He glares bolts of pure ice at the Yangae militiamen. "Now of course, since we obviously don't give a clod about what happens to you, we could just ignore the whole thing and let you suffer, right?" He kicks a chair. "It's not happening, is it?"

"You don't have much choice, Constable," says Dauk impassively. "This thing is turning the Yangae against you! It's simple survival, and you know it."

Betham mutters something under his breath.

"We have a common enemy," continues Dauk. "Therefore we have a common cause. We respect that."

"And if we overcome it?" asks Constable Pal'dun.

"Right back at each other's throat," spits Gar'en as he activates his wrister and starts pecking at it.

"We're not giving in to you!" says Blue Yangae D. "You're not controlling our minds!"

"That's exactly what he said!" says Betham, gesturing at Br'am. Then he gestures at the yellow-marked Yangae. "That's probably what they said! And Dusker, and Mek, and...whatever. Probably even Mas'Vallaf! They all said it! What did it get them?" With a sigh, he stomps off in the direction of the exit.

Pru gives Dauk a horrified look.

"He does have a point," says Mey'Luskar quietly.

Accountings

Ham's scanner shows that the security blocks are still in effect. The way out is not clear.

Widjgleeby looks understandably curious as she rises to her feet. She is not the only one. Even those that witnessed the spectacle show expressions ranging from puzzled to totally blown away.

As the priestesses relax from their trance and heave a sigh of relief, Gaima and Bina move to help Keil'i. Per'anai fixes Mey'Luskar with her gaze.

Dauk and Blue Yangae D start checking out the yellow-marked Yangae again. Constable Pal'dun heaves a heavy sigh of rapture and turns to examine Mek. As he does so, Dusker says, "Hey there, I'd like my hands and legs unhooked, if you don't mind." When Pal'dun only glances at him warily, he adds, "They're probably going to need my help shutting everything down!" Pal'dun then looks over at Betham, who answers with a grim gesture of affirmative.

"Alright," says Pal'dun as he stoops to unlock Dusker's restraints. "Don't do anything stupid!"

"Too late for that," retorts Dusker darkly.

"The enemy is gone," croons Wari from her sofa.

"Yeah," concurs Pru, probing around with her ring. "Nothing! Nothing at all! They're all clean!"

Per'anai gestures affirmative Yangae style and says, "The power of the Rune has been broken for now. Everyone poisoned by it has been freed."

"Um...for now?" echoes Pru, her eyebrows quickly drooping.

"The enemy's presence here was only an extension of itself, thank the Entity," explains the priestess. "But the fact that it could do these things means one of two possibilities. Either it has a primary host somewhere here in Mul'ein, or..."

"I won't ask," says Pru.

"You don't need to," says Detective Gar'en. "Honored Teacher, do you honestly believe the Atlanzi is here in person?"

"Atlanzi?" echoes Dauk. "Is that...?"

"No," replies Per'anai, "I do not. If it were, the Sentinel would respond to it directly, and woe would be to all of us!"

"What the skaz is an 'Atlanzi'?" demands Blue Yangae D.

"A good reason to panic," replies Dauk. "I don't like the sound of that 'Sentinel' she mentioned, either." Then he says in a louder voice, "If you'll excuse me! I know this is probably a witch thing and a whole lot bigger than I am, but I'd really like to know what's going on!"

Per'anai studies him for a few seconds and then replies, "This is not a 'witch thing'. It involves you a lot more than you think, or at least it should. The greatest danger is to the children of Foldorius!"

How Many Dilemmas?

Constable B-1, whose nameplate reads "Pal'dun", responds to Zeton's inquiries by saying a polite, "One moment, please," over his wrist scanner. Then he cries, "This one is flatlined!"

"Br'am, too," reports Patrolman 2. "We need Geishana here!"

"We could use them, too," says Blue Yangae A as his fellows tend to their yellow-marked comrades.

"Right," says Betham. He starts to raise his wrister, but he's interrupted by a cry from Detective Gar'en.

"Negative! We're still in a danger zone!"

"What do you mean?" demands Betham.

"Probably this!" cries Constable B-3 from his position at the main entrance. Holding the door open, he gestures outside.

Just beyond the door there lies what is probably Blue Yangae E, or what's left of him anyway. His armor is all but flattened, and he is surrounded by a puddle of what appears to be his own bodily fluids. The noisome goo has a strange, viscous quality as if it were liquid mercury.

Constable B-3 pulls a flyer from a bulletin board next to the door, crumples it up, and tosses it outside. As soon as it crosses the threshold, the paper suddenly drops to the floor as if pulled by a great magnet and flattens with a surprisingly large thud.

"Stasis zone!" says Blue Yangae A. "Or grav. Are all the entrances blocked?"

"No," replies Detective Gar'en, "just that one. The others are clear."

"No..." moans Dusker. He looks at Mon'Fargret. "The guards!"

"Patrolman Bel'in!" says Detective 2, pointing at the door next to the stage. "I-I think he's still..."

"Flames," mutters Betham, and he activates his wrister. "Bel'in! Patrolman Bel'in! Report!" He looks at the door, clearly raising his psy senses. "This is Betham! Put your spirit back on its hook! Report!"

The wrister beeps. "Um...sir...I-I'm sorry! I..."

"Bel'in, you flaming, weak-spined excuse for a putz! Running out on us when you're needed?"

"I just...Br'am..."

"Get your stinking carcass back here three minutes ago!"

"Yes, sir! I-I'm sorry, sir! I...AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!"

From the wrister comes the sounds of a struggle. A rather brief struggle. It ends with a sickening snap followed by a crash. Then there is only silence.

"The guards have us in their power," says Dusker.

"Patr'im," says Betham anxiously into his wrister. "Report! The guards! Are they still in your custody?"

Silence.

"We can't get out," says Dusker.

Justice Switches Arms

Just then the double doors burst open with a bang, there is a clack of armored boots, and a familiar voice says, "Superintendent Br'am! Are you busy now?"

The superintendent's eyes widen and then furrow.

"What in flames are YOU doing here?" demands Constable Panith.

"Betham!" snaps the superintendent. "You gl'imm! You were ordered to patrol..."

"...to patrol the eastern side of the Park," interrupts Betham as he strides in flanked by three other armored constables. "Not that there was anything there. You have an important message, but it seems your com is down. I came here to deliver it personally."

"Right, whatever!" snaps the superintendent. "Give me the message, and be quick about it!"

"Com silence and blockers too?" asks Betham playfully as he and his team thread their way through the tables. "And the Night Guard? Is this normal procedure for our district?"

"The situation calls for special measures," replies the superintendent. "Now give me the message and get your ass back out on your bikes!"

"Very well," says Betham. He waves his team off just as they're passing by the party. He himself comes to a stop directly in front of the superintendent. Then he glances back at Par'deth and shifts a bit to the side. "There are two parts to the message. I'm guessing the first is evidence. The second part is probably instructions. I'll play 'em in that order."

"Fine!" snaps the superintendent.

Betham holds up his wrister, taps in a sequence, and then pauses as a holo display appears.

(From behind the party there is a sound of carefully shifting stools.)

"All lies!" cries Keil'i. "Lies and betrayal! How can you call yourself a representative of..."

There is a flash and crackle of a stun bolt, and Keil'i collapses to the ground, blue sparks playing about her form.

Bina lets out a verbal and psychic scream and runs to her companion's side.

"Just an unfortunate precaution," says the superintendent with a sigh. "She'll be alright. Your name is Bina, right? At least you're a local, so you should understand."

[cut]

"Extreme..." sings Wari in Her-galad (mimicking Constable Panith). "Even more extreme when controlled...not by the Temple, but still controlled! Poison in the air..."

"Shut up!" snaps Constable Panith, switching on his stun baton.

"Who pulls your strings, Constable?" sings Wari as if in a dream.

"I said shut up!" growls Panith, and he moves toward her menacingly.

"Wari, don't!" hisses Blaghl.

"Smile for the cameraaaaaas..." Wari sings, glancing around the room.

Panith hesitates, glancing around, each breath a growl of rage, then, with a most un-Hergoth howl, his control gives way, and he jabs the Bolgan violently with his baton. Her attempt to dodge is unsuccessful. There is a crackle of stun fire, and she quietly collapses.

Breathing as if on the verge of hyperventilation, Constable Panith wheels around, brandishing his baton as if half berserk, and growls, "You...will...all...obey...authority!"

An almost tangible wave of tension spreads through the club.

"And now the second part," says Betham as the holo image changes. [His other hand can be seen to move closer to his sidearm.]

"Superintendent Br'am," says the face as it fades into focus, "you, Panith, and Ter'nbath are relieved of all duties and under arrest, effective immediately!"

"TRAITORS!!!" yells Panith.

At the same time, a psychic scream like "KYAAAAAAATH" echoes through everyone's mind as Par'deth becomes a thing of fire.

(I'll be needing speed point rolls. Use the number and type of dice indicated for 1st exchange according to your SPD attribute. The table is here.)

The Wrong Arm of Justice

Zeton and Lirassa are still fussing over the computer when both Widjgleeby and Ham announce that the approaching force has made it to the room outside.

A moment later, an amplified, Hergoth-sounding voice speaking Her-galad blares, "Peace Force! This area is under security! Stand down and present yourselves!" The order is then repeated in Yangae.

"Should we take cover?" whispers Pru anxiously.

"No," says Bina. "We'd better do what they say."

"Show no resistance!" advises Keil'i.

Suddenly Mek screams hysterically, "IN HERE! IN HERE! HELP US! THEY'RE ROBBING THE PLACE!"

Boots can be heard scrambling toward the entrance to the chamber. Then the order to stand down and present is repeated from the doorway.

Mek continues, "STOP THEM! HURRY! THEY'LL RUIN EVERYTHING!"

"We are from the Temple!" shouts Bina. "We offer no violence!"

"Stay where you are," says a relatively deep Hergoth-sounding voice in Her-galad but using a telepathic translator. "Make no aggressive moves! This area is under security!"

Two Peace Force officers in armor step through the door with pistols drawn. Keil'i steps forward carefully to present herself, hands held open. Bina rises painfully to do the same.

"All of you," says one of the officers (though not the deep-voiced one), "move to the open area! Do it now!"

There is a nice, cheerful bleep of confirmation from Lirassa's wrister. Muffling her sigh of relief, she quickly shuts it off.

"You there," says the officer, "move away from the machine! Hands where we can see them!"

As he speaks, a third Peace Force officer swaggers in behind the first two. He is a bit brawnier. His markings also show him to be of higher rank than the others.

"Come on now," he says in the deep voice heard before. "I know you don't want trouble, so don't make any. Let's see all of you move over there so we can see you, nice and easy. And while we're at it, why don't we just see you leave your weapons on the floor as you go. It's safer for all of us that way."

"Superintendent!" says Pru with surprise. Then she smirks. "Why aren't you at your desk?"

"Why aren't you in a hospital bed like the rest of your team, Pru?" asks the superintendent. "Or a box? You, too! With the others! Move!"

In the Depths of a Den of Vice

The room beyond the door seems larger than expected, especially considering how small and insignificant the doorway was. Perhaps it is a trick of the eerie, dim, greenish lighting, but once the party gets past the various racks and piles of boxes near the entrance, the chamber opens up and appears quite cavernous.

The air inside seems a bit thick, and its aroma is a weird combination of ozone, solvents, warehouse mustiness, old bapf, vomit, some sour scent that defies explanation, Yangae-style spiced room freshener, and even spicier dasch smoke. (Widjgleeby is not amused.)

In one corner there is a sort of platform whose surface is very shiny black, but the reflected light betrays a sort of mottled appearance, as if it were made up of many thousands of tiny tiles. A low hum which fills the room clearly emanates from this bizarre edifice (which looks quite familiar to Mon'Fargret and Pru).

A tall, apparently female humanoid in armor with a multitude of weapons stands guard next to the platform. On seeing Par'deth, she bows stiffly but remains in position.

Not far away, there is an untidy-looking half circle of tables holding control panels, monitor plates, cased or rack-mounted machinery, a variety of equipment tossed about, and a veritable collection of drink cups, food containers, dirty dishes, and ashtrays. The floor in the vicinity of the tables is even messier.

A female Bolgan is busily examining the machinery. She doesn't respond to the party at all. She doesn't look happy, either.

Next to the tables, seated in chairs and apparently restrained, are two Yangae men (of the Yangae ethnic group). One of the two, who doesn't look familiar to the party, immediately greets Par'deth with a torrent of curses and thrashes about helplessly. The other, however, eyes the party calmly as they come in. There is no mistaking who it is.

"Be still, Mek," he says with apparent amusement, making no attempt to hide his Noble caste pronunciation. "We have new guests!" He glances about the party and offers a nod of greeting, a grin crossing his face. "Ah! The honorable artist! With his blue sidekick, of course! And the oversized mock-Hergoth investigator or spy known as...what is it...Zayton? Here with the warrior whore from Wirg's? How interesting! In fact, I believe I saw that Farbett at Wirg's, too, only yesterday! I remember she was with a very talkative Zorlan who had a spiny, alien sidekick! I don't see either of those or the sickening, hooded thing they latched onto; otherwise I'd suspect half of Wirg's lunchtime clientele had dropped in for bapf!" He squints a bit looking at Ham. "I don't remember that one. I'm probably the better for it." Then he turns his gaze to Pru. "I do know you, however. Pru! A true citizen! What are you doing mixed up with this lot?" He lifts scornful eyes to the priestesses.

As The Soundtrack Switches to a Slightly Ominous Theme...

Atop the hill...

The lay priestesses and acolytes succeed in clearing all the tourists out of the Temple, making way for the party to enter. Once the group is inside the sanctuary, the doors are closed behind them...with the lay priestesses and others outside.

The three priestesses with the party look at each other briefly with apparent puzzlement, and then their silent questions are apparently answered by a sudden swirl of green soulfire. A priestess appears who the party hasn't seen before. She gives the party nothing but a stern glance before turning her attention to the three younger priestesses. A silent conversation is shared, and then the higher-ranked priestess leads everyone through the passages down to the gate as before.

The gate chamber is empty save the gate itself; there is no sign of Par'ai.

"Par'ai is busy elsewhere," explains Gaima. "Kal'mai Ash-Light will operate the gate. I will send Keil'i Glowing-Hill and Bina with you. I will stay here with Mey'Luskar. Par'deth is waiting for you on the other side. Hopefully this won't take long."

With that, the higher ranking priestess turns to the gate and sings to it in the eerie vocal/psychic harmony. It responds by activating as before, forming a glowing portal beneath the shimmering gem.

Mey'Luskar whispers something in Mon'Fargret's ear, kisses him on the cheek abruptly as if it burns her, and moves away from the group with Gaima.

"Come!" says Keil'i, and she steps through the portal.

***

On the lower circle...

Nekshi and Kuluf board the vehicle without any trouble. Granite Spear seems a bit more reluctant (not to mention a bit clumsier when it comes to climbing in). Soon the little truck is humming its way around the main circle road toward the Museum.

"Are you lost?" asks the Yangae man pleasantly in his native tongue.

"She's troubled," cuts in one of the Hergoth women, also in Yangae. "She's searching for something!"

"Well, isn't that why people usually come up here?" asks the Yangae man. "To search for something? The thing is you never quite know what you're gonna find! Bet you didn't expect this lot to come your way!" Then he laughs out loud. The two Hergoth women join him, uttering the low wail that serves as the Hergoth equivalent of a laugh. Then the man says, "So tell us, what's your story, anyway?"

A Change of Venue

After the "incident" on the stairs, the party (sans Nekshi and Granite Spear)(and Widjgleeby, who's still waiting in the lobby) return to their rooms to get their things together. Those that turned their clothes over to the acolytes find everything cleaned, pressed, folded, and left on the appropriate beds. All of the male members plus Pru are in the hall ready to go in a flash. Lirassa and Mey'Luskar, however, are not.

As Dabid, Ham, Mon'Fargret, Pru, and Zeton wait in the hall with more than a little pacing and tapping of extremities, Gaima says, "Actually...it might not be necessary for all of you to go. We really only need you to confirm something. It...might be inconvenient to send so many."

Lirassa emerges as the priestess is talking, and she immediately replies, "I agree. I think Mey'Luskar should stay here."

"She's probably right," adds Mey'Luskar herself from behind the Besteeng. "I'll go with you as far as the gate, but I'll stay with the priestesses till you come back."

Gaima clearly approves, and she immediately beckons the others to go with her downstairs (this time using the elevator) where they collect Widjgleeby. Soon everyone is outside. Almost immediately, four acolytes appear as if from nowhere and accompany the group as it goes. It isn't long before they are walking up the gentle slope toward the crown of the mountain where the Temple sits. The wind has picked up a little, bringing a slight edge to the otherwise warm, late spring day.

The crowds have visibly thinned. Although there's still some activity in the direction of the Resort building and museum, the vicinity of the Temple itself is vacant, and there are only very few people walking around elsewhere in the precints.

It makes it that much easier to pick out Nekshi, Granite Spear, and Kuluf, who are on the other side of the hill heading toward the various priest quarters.

"What do you suppose they're doing?" wonders Mey'Luskar aloud.

"Hopefully not getting into trouble," replies Lirassa.

"They're on a different path for now," says Gaima. She gestures toward the Temple. "Come!"

The Briefing

The tech-priestess and the other priestess (who Nekshi, G.S., and Lirassa have already met) lead the party into what appears to be a conference room and gesture for everyone to sit at the large, circular table. As they do so, Bina comes in accompanied by Keil'i and Gaima, who shut the door behind them.

As the tech-priestess looks on passively, the four priestess separate and assume equidistant positions along the circular wall, facing outward. They then assume prayer positions and start chanting. The tech-priestess then holds out her hand and says, "Show," as Mey'Luskar did earlier. An identical point of light appears. However, the tech-priestess starts to sing to it in the strange, priestly way (i.e. providing a psychic harmony to accompany her audible voice). The point of light then blossoms into what looks like a glowing crystal floating in the air in front of her. At the song's conclusion, she makes a gesture, and the crystal flashes blue before vanishing. The four priestesses then turn and face into the room while still maintaining their positions.

The tech-priestess then fixes an intense gaze on Mey'Luskar and pulls something from the folds of her robe, something which she places on the table with a loud thunk.

The dataspike.

"Let's start from the beginning," says the tech-priestess in Yangae. "Tell me everything you know about this."

Mey'Luskar glances around at the party, letting her gaze linger on Mon'Fargret.

"I don't think you need their help!" snaps the tech-priestess. "I'm interested in what you know, not what they think! Start from the beginning!"

Mey'Luskar gulps and says, "First my lodger told me it was 'something really cool' that we needed to see. He didn't say anything about it until it was playing." She starts playing with her hands anxiously.

"Only the two of you were watching it?"

"The first time, yes."

"What did he say about it after that?"

"I asked him where he got it..."

"And?"

"He...told me he got it from Mek."

"Mek?"

"Mek'Logen. One of our co-workers. We were all working for Morva Free Channel. For Mas'Vellaf. We were helping promote the Talent Round-Up."

"What else did he tell you?"

"He said it was a clip-job. A spliced bootleg. The market copies are sealed, and you have to get a special code to see the whole thing. This one was hacked so you can bypass the code."

"And you don't know how your lodger or Mek got it?"

"He didn't say. But Mek works with the coders, so I figured he ran it off himself and sold it, or whatever. He's always done stuff like that. He's good at it. That's why Mas'Vellaf hired him!"

The tech-priestess picks up the dataspike and brandishes it almost like a weapon. With flashing eyes, she says, "If this is just an ordinary clip-job pirated by some thug hoping to make an extra BMU, why does it have a built-in teleport tracer with a code-triggered transponder?"

Stunned, Mey'Luskar tries and fails to speak.

"Par'ai," says the high-ranked priestess calmly, "this is not her doing."

"Forgive me," says the tech-priestess, "but it's not every day that someone tries to abduct me!" She tosses the spike on the table again. "This is no clip-job. It was made from the start with a deliberate purpose! The question is not so much why as who, as in who was the intended target. Right now I have two theories. Either Mek wasn't supposed to have it, and its passing to her lodger and then to her was a matter of blind fate, or we've all been played. There's also the question of who they thought they were teleporting out of here. Maybe the real operators didn't know she had it till now, and they thought they were 'porting her out. Or maybe the whole thing was a trick aimed at us! After all, it started sending out a signal as soon as it was in my hands...a signal that was answered almost immediately by a strong meson scan beam tight-focused on my position. They could have locked on and 'ported me out in an instant with no hope of a trace!" She glances up at the intricate ceiling fixtures and huffs with contempt. "They didn't know what they were dealing with!"

"But there's something we need to find out here and now," says the high-ranked priestess, strolling toward the table. "The source of the poison!"

"Yes," says the tech-priest, picking up the spike again. "The dream was a hint. Now I'd like to test a theory." She passes a hand over the table and says in Her-Galad, "Spike." A glowing spot appears. She presses the spike into it as if it were a port.

"No," says Mey'Luskar, jumping to her feet. "No, no, don't! You CAN'T!"

"Sit...down..." hisses the tech-priestess. "We've warded the room. None of you will be harmed. But it will probably be unpleasant."

"But you don't have to suffer it if you don't want to," says the high-ranked priestess, eying the tech-priestess firmly. "This is very important, possibly a matter of life and death for many, but it's your right. If you want to leave, now is the time."

Yanda Branch Temple: The Tour

(Just for the record, historical items that should be common knowledge are linked to the Wiki.  Otherwise, if you don't know it, neither does your character.)

As the party passes through the lobby and out the entrance, Bina says, "Most of you have probably been here before, so you've probably been in the museum, but just in case...

"Before the Hergoth came to Lyranell, this was the site of an Old Sarkon monastery.  We're not sure which cult it was for because it was already destroyed by the time we got here.  We do know that this whole mountain was declared off limits during the Great Purge, and the Old Sarkon town that stood just across the river was abandoned.  That's something of a mystery, too; this area is perfect for settlement, yet the Old Sarkons never developed it beyond that one, small town.  Mul'ein already extends far beyond its borders."

Dabid yawns.

"Anyway," continues Bina, "this complex, the Yanda Branch Temple, was established about two thousand years ago, and the temple building is the oldest surviving construction on Lyranell."

"Even older than Eribandai or the Main Temple?" asks Lirassa.

"That's right," replies Bina.  "Both of those were badly damaged during the occupation and had to be rebuilt.  Only this one was untouched."

"Not that they didn't try," mutters Dabid.

Ignoring him, Bina gestures toward the dorm building.  "This is the second oldest building.  It's one of very few of the original buildings left.  It was also built almost two thousand years ago, but it has been renovated a number of times.  Its main purpose has always been to house the acolytes.  During the Occupation the Yangae used it as a prison, mainly to keep those of the faithful that weren't killed or exiled."

"And that's why it wasn't destroyed?" asks Pru, drawing laughter from Dabid.  "What?" she moans.

"It was partly destroyed," replies Bina, glaring at Dabid.  "The Occupation used both of the neighboring buildings for target practice."  She gestures at the resort building and Seminary.  "Both of them were leveled.  The dorm took more than a few hits, which is why there are now only two wings.  There were dozens inside at the time."

"Subversives," mutters Pru darkly.

"Speaking of the Seminary," continues Bina, gesturing at the impressive, glittering structure, "as most of you probably know, it's the newest building here.  It was finished only about five years ago.  It was built on the site of the old ceremony hall that was blasted to pieces.  This is a much more useful building.  It has conference rooms, an auditorium, and accommodations which are used not only by the Temple, but also by the general public.  All of its facilities combine Ergothei and Foldorian technology, and its all very state of the art."

"Yes, I know," retorts Lirassa, "and to be honest, this is where I start having a problem with all of this.  I mean, look at that thing!  So much of this colony is still being rebuilt after Ganneth's little romantic tragedy, not to mention the fact that there's a war going on, and the government still dishes out the taxpayers' money to pay for this?"

Bina gestures negative Hergoth style.  "The government paid very little.  Most of the money came from private donations."

"But aren't the Ergotheia ruled basically by mind-control instead of law?" counters Lirassa.  "And if so, can you really say that the people gave all that money of their own, free will?"

"Exactly," says Pru.  "Exactly!  That's what I mean!  The people are slaves!  That's what we tried to save them from! "

"But we didn't understand a damned thing!" comes Mey'Luskar's emotion-packed voice from behind.

"What?" hisses Pru, her brows furrowing her eyes almost fully shut as she whirls around.  "Lady, are your plugs in right?"

Bina clears her throat.  When she has everyone's attention, she says, "The biggest donation by far came directly from His Civilized Eminence, Emperor Ty'Klemmo of the Foldorian Empire, may His wisdom guide us all!  I might also add that he sent Foldorian and Crygan workers to help build it.  We owe him our thanks and our honor as our very lives!"*

"Wow," says Lirassa.

Pru looks like she has been shot.

(*Bina's last statement is filled with traditional Yangae expressions.)

A Matter of Timing

The acolytes that the party has seen on duty so far have all been quiet and reflective, almost as if in a state of waking meditation while carrying out their chores.  How different they are now that they are on break!  The lobby outside the cafeteria entrance quickly fills with the din of youthful exuberance.  Soon the giggling mass begins to flow inside.

Seeing Bina as she rises, the acolytes stop almost as one and offer her a bow and intoned greeting, which she answers with a quiet bow.  Then the youths fall into line near the kitchen and begin assembling their trays.  Their talk is more muted now, and many a wary glance is thrown at the party.  It's not hard to notice that a lot of their attention is focused on Pru and her Night Guard outfit.  Pru replies by fixing a level glare on them as she stands.

The rest of the party all quickly finish whatever remains of their meals and stand to follow Bina out.  They don't get very far when Pru's wrister chimes.

"Sod it," she whispers as she raises the device to her face.  "I knew it had to come sometime."  She makes a hushing gesture to the party, puts on a pleasant face, pushes the receive button, and says, "Trenna!  Pu'Laru here."

"Pu'Laru!" barks a steely-sounding, masculine voice.  "What are you doing?  Where in the moss are you?"

Pru chuckles.  "Would you believe I'm somewhere on the witch mountain?"

"You're what?  Your whole team is in the rack...in pieces...sans you...and you're where?  Report!"

Pru licks her lips anxiously.  "What have they told you?"

"'They?'  You mean your team?  One dead, one in a coma, and two in serious condition and barely lucid?  Not much, I'd say!  All I got was what the punks that brought 'em to the hospital said!"

Pru takes a deep breath.  "We...got a call from a watcher.  Said a bunch of Blues were taking in a Yangae couple down in the tunnel.  We went down, saw the Blues.  Drau and Gatch were really in a socket, 'cause they just started shooting at 'em.  Don't know if they got anyone, but they scattered, and we went down.  Found the main group.  Yangae couple and some friends with the Blues.  Said there was no problem.  The Blues were escorting them.  Drau didn't buy it, sodding ass baked one with no call.  First blood on us.  No call.  They fought back, we got planted.  Probably deserved it, too.  Our bad blood, our loss.  End report."

There's a moment of silence, and then the voice in the wrister replies, "That's pretty much what they told us.  But I still want to know what you're doing over there!"

Pru glances around at the party and replies, "Investigating.  Something's up.  Something big.  I'm not leaving till I find out more.  My blood's on it."

"Alright.  I'll want to hear more.  And soon!"

"You'll get it.  Anything more?"

"Ah, just one more thing.  Got any lead on that Luskar woman?  High end's getting twitchy!"

"I'm on it, Riz.  I'm on a lead!  Like I said, something big!"

"You need backup?"

"No!  Not yet!  I need to work it out.  I'm on it!"

"Where on the mountain are you right now?"

"Can't tell you that.  Not now.  I'll ping it when it's safe."

"You're not in the Temple, are you?"

Pru throws an unconscious glance in Bina's direction.  "And why in peat would I be there, Riz?"

"Just pulling you, Pru.  Just let us know as soon as you find something.  Anything!"

"Got it, Riz!  I'm on it!  Off!"

Just before Pru pushes the close switch on her wrister, the acolytes break into a vibrant pre-meal prayer song.

Breaking the Fast or Fasting the Break?

The party arrives at the cafeteria to find it more or less as they'd expected.  The only other sentient life forms present are the kitchen crew, which consists of a few regular cooks and a handful of very bored-looking acolytes.

"Ah, you're here!" says the apparent head cook cheerfully in Her-Galad.  "Or would you rather I spoke Yangae?" he adds in that language.  He is clearly of the Foldorian race, but his ethnicity is unclear, possibly mixed (which is odd in Foldorian culture, as has already been noted).  The fact that he is wearing Hergoth-style makeup around one eye indicates that he is probably a Hertressk Yangae.

"Yangae would be better," says the junior priestess accompanying the party.  "That seems to be their common language."

"Alright," replies the cook with a smile.  "I'll try to leave out all the weird local words, too, right?"  He laughs.  Then he asks, "Where's your friend, Bina?"

"Something came up," is all she volunteers.  The cook apparently gets her drift, because his face suddenly looks grim.

"So what's available?" asks Lirassa.

The cook looks up at the Besteeng, makes a dramatic show of stretching his neck, and lets his eyes go wide for an instant.  "I'm glad you asked," he replies.  He gestures toward a wall, where a menu is written in Her-Galad, Yangae, Brekka, Somekh, and a couple of other languages the party doesn't immediately recognize.  "I'd just like to make one thing clear before any of you say anything.  We're here to feed people who have come for a spiritual experience, not a physical one.  Our food is made to satisfy, not to indulge.  If you want fancy stuff, please go somewhere else."

The menu is indeed very simple.  It includes a couple of basic Yangae staples, a type of bread known to the Besteengs and other post-Sarkon cultures, and a couple of Farbett food fungi.  Other than that, the only other item on the list is the very first one, which is also highlighted.  It says simply, "Standard fare."

"What's the 'standard fare'?" asks Pru suspiciously.

"What do you think it is?" asks the cook back.

Pru lowers her brows.  "Tofu?  Ganci nut paste?  Dami seed noodles?  Raw vegetables?"

The cook smiles and makes a sound reminiscent of a correct answer on a holovid game show.

Pru clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes.

"I'll have the standard fare," says Bina a little defensively.

"I will, too," says Mey'Luskar.  In answer to Pru's look of disbelief, she adds, "I've never tried it!  Besides, as long as we're going native..."

"Going what?" cries Pru.  "Don't you know the old expression, 'If it isn't right, fix it or toss it'?"

Mey'Luskar counters, "Do you know the expression, 'If the roots don't go into the ground, the branches don't go into the sky'?"

Pru frowns.  "Never heard that.  Who said it?"

Mey'Luskar looks at Mon'Fargret and smiles.  "Ty'Klemmo did.  His Civilized Eminence, I mean.  I think I'm finally beginning to understand it, too."

Pru shrugs.  "Whatever does you, lady.  I'll stick with my parvan."

The cook smiles broadly.  "Great, then!  What about the rest of you?"

Morning Comes to Mul'ein

The orb of Miyandei breaks over the surface of the sea, reaching out with probing fingers of cherry red through the misty sandbars and swaying grasses of Bal'tem Bay. At once the morning creatures begin the day's performance. It begins with the raspy croak of the tunies (kind of like Terran mudskippers, but much more vocal) and is soon joined by a symphony of twitters, buzzes, whoops, and clicks uttered by the many insect and amphibian denizens of the marshy shores. Last to come is the weird, booming bark of the bumpha fish, which provides an eerie sort of rhythmic accompaniment until the sounds of technology and civilization begin to take over.

Even with the luxuries of antigrav projection and repulsorjets, there is still no replacing the common boat. Commercial fishermen, sport anglers, and pleasure boaters are plying the waters long before Miyandei clears the horizon, their various engine hums and rapids shaking the natural symphony but never quite disrupting it. Inland, the coastal town of Bal'tem is still mostly asleep, but just beyond it Mul'ein is already coming to life. Eerie sirens mark the changing of the shifts in the factories to the north and south. Those hardy souls that fill the unpleasant yet oh, so necessary roles of urban society go about their jobs with the efficiency of well-practiced routine, working hard to get the worst done before the commuter traffic starts to clog the streets.

Meanwhile, the various hills that rise like sentinels above the urban sprawl stand in marked contrast both to the world below and to each other. Among the rugged peaks of Danteir to the north the chimneys of industry wake from the quiet of the night, their growing steam adding to the mists washing in from the sea. In Düa, near the center of the city, the sharp, rhythmic chants of exercising sports teams echo among the walled fields of Yanda University. In Danstül' Park in Ekr'in street hawkers, artists, and buskers are already setting up for the day's toils as joggers thread around them. Atop Sa'Barj to the southeast, the three great palaces of the highest of the local high stand silent, their occupants no doubt sleeping off the excesses of the previous night (as usual). And on the crown of the sprawling bulk of Erweina there is the faint sound of chanting on the breeze as the priestesses lead the dawn devotions inside the open-doored Temple.

But then a new sound cuts the harmony. From within the temple complex there is the bang of a door being flung open violently followed by the pat-pat-pat of bare feet running on a brick walkway. This is accompanied by desperate moaning, as of asthmatic breathing, as a half-panicked figure dashes out of the clearing and into the safe confines of the temple forest. The pattering and raspy gasps continue until they draw near to the gurgling of the spring-fed bathing gardens. They don't stop there. There is another bang as the gate is knocked aside, the briefest of splattering sounds as the shower curtain is plowed through unheeded, and then a great splash as the running figure dives into the main pool.

There follows a few moments of silence. Then the sound of a youngish female Hergoth voice can be heard saying, "Um...it helps to take your robe off first..."

To which Dabid replies, "DON'T LET IT GET ME!!!"

The Cleaner

As the party joins the Blues in spreading out to check out the fallen vigilantes, Blue Twelve proceeds straight to where the dark figure is holding Pru at bay with his sword.

"Why don't you finish her, dear master?" asks Blue Twelve impatiently.

"Because she is INNOCENT!" spits the dark figure in Her-Galad with a very strong Lyranell twang. He glances back over his shoulder. His eyes are no longer glowing, but with all the anger in them they might as well be. "She came here to rescue and protect one of her own. That's not a crime, is it?" He shuts off his sword (which then vanishes into thin air) and says to Pru in Yangae, "You. Over there." He nods toward where Mon'Fargret is tending to Vig. #1. "He needs help."

Pru looks ready to faint dead away in an instant, but she complies.

Blue Twelve is clearly shocked (and isn't the only one). "Dear master, what if she talks?"

The darkly-dressed person shrugs. "What if she does? She never gave the order to shoot. She never wanted to!" He gives Vig. #3's corpse a vicious kick. "This sludge-lump drew first blood in spite of her. By their own 'civilized' rules, that gave us every right to grind him into fertilizer. I'm sure she recognizes that." He glances at Pru and adds in Yangae, "Don't you?"

Pru looks up at him with fright, nods briskly, and goes back to assisting Mon'Fargret.

The dark figure turns his tangibly vehement gaze to Ham Sahladt. Surprisingly, he says something in Biton. Then he looks up and says (in Her-Galad again), "Blaghl, get the priestesses. We need them."

Blaghl bows and turns to go, but one of the Blues says, "Dear master, they're already coming!"

Indeed, one of the maintenance doors (the one on the right on the map) has opened, and Nekshi can be seen peeking out.

"Mon'Fargret," says the dark guy, "your friends are here. The way is open. Very good."

"Very good?" retorts Mey'Luskar half-hysterically in Her-Galad (the first time anyone has heard her speak that language) as she approaches, looking around at the fallen. "Very good?!? More blood on MY face!!!"

The dark figure looks at her, and his reaction is odd. His eyes widen for an instant, and then he looks away. "No," he says hoarsely. "Your face, and your soul, are clean. If there's any blame, it's mine." He looks over at the charred remains of the fallen Blue. "This is what I get for allowing myself to get rusty." He throws a vehement glance toward Nekshi. "And distracted!"

"But my..." starts Mey'Luskar in Her-Galad again, and then she gasps and switches to Yangae. "I knew some of them!" She takes a couple of steps toward where Vig. #2 is embedded in the wall. "Fel...she's...was...my friend!"

"Poisoned!" snaps the dark guy in Yangae, not looking at her. "She had the poison in her. Just like these two." He gestures toward Vig. #3 and Scan-helmet. "Any of them would have killed you in a second if they'd known the truth."

Realization crosses Mey'Luskar's face like a shadow. She puts her hand in her pocket.

The dark guy gestures understanding, still not looking at her. "She saw it, didn't she? With you?"

Mey'Luskar faints. One of the female Blues runs to her immediately.

The dark guy curses under his breath. Looking around, he says, "Fellows, here I'm known as The Cleaner. Welcome to my lair."