Once More Into the Abyss

Zeton hurries to catch up to Mey after double checking to make sure he has all his gear, "I understand the desire to capture or destroy the Relay, but do we understand the consequences of that yet? Is it possible to rescue Adulie and destroy the Relay at the same time? What exactly is your plan?"

Mey'Luskar gives him a quizzical look.

"If you think I'm planning to go marching into a cave full of big, ugly lizard things right now...," she snaps.

Widjgleeby glowers down at her.

One could almost hear the air rushing out as she deflates. "Um...I'll stick with the caves full of good lizard things!" She gives the Farbett her most charming smile.

Widjgleeby looks away again.

Mey'Luskar sighs. "Anyway, I don't have a plan. I'm just following you guys. I just had a hunch that I should ask her that. Just in case."

As the party heads down the stairs, the Fasion pleads for them to wait and hustles to move ahead of them as quickly as her short legs will allow. Once in front, she assumes an air of rather uncertain authority and says, "Follow me!" Then she proceeds to lead the group around through the cavernous main parlor, down to the basement, and over to a stairway no one in the party has seen yet.

When the group starts to descend this last stairway, the clattering of someone running can be heard. Turning to look, the party sees Atraktu approaching. The Ahmonite halts a short distance away and bows to the floor.

"My lord orders Atraktu to serve brave sisters," she says anxiously.

There is some muttering in the party, but Bina expresses her understanding. The Ahmonite then takes up a position next to the disgraced priestess.

The group continues down. The Fasion turns on the lights at the bottom, revealing a dank cellar full of trash. The Fasion calls out a word that doesn't translate.

A Farbett voice demands, "What's this about?"

"The mystic gives these people clearance to enter the tunnels!" cries the Fasion.

There is a pause. "They got guns! They got Yangae! Not good!"

"They have a pass!" retorts the Fasion.

Another pause. "Alright, then!" There is a shifting of the trash, and a female Farbett emerges. Without looking at the party, she heads deeper into the trash and starts digging through it madly, throwing items in all directions. After only a few seconds, a path is cleared to a door. The Farbett opens it and moves aside.

"There you go!" she says. "But they're not gonna like this!"

The Fasion moves aside and gestures toward the door. "Be successful!" she says.

Gol'br'in's "Surprise Guest"

After a couple of minutes, the Fasion returns, erupting through the bead curtain as if it were her life's worst obstacle. Proceeding straight to Gol'br'in, she mutters something as he bends to listen. Then he clicks his tongue impatiently, stands erect facing the curtain, and barks something that sounds like, "Tcakin, mek-mek!"

Turning to the party sheepishly, he says, "That's about all I know of her language. If you have any translating devices, they'd be a big help right now."

Lirassa taps a key on her helmet with a huff. Then she says in Brekka, "Kekkin [Testing] i [one], kuli [two], zil [three]. Brakken kg'ford [Do y'all understand me, now?]"

Mey'Luskar huffs in turn. "Why didn't you tell us you had one of those?"

Lirassa, still speaking Brekka (though everyone understands her now), replies, "Y'all can't expect a girl to let fly all her secrets, now, can ya?"

Pru sucks air through her teeth.

"Now, what's your problem, pee-wee?" asks Lirassa, throwing out a hip cockily.

"Your Yangae is a lot prettier," replies Pru.

"'Cause it ain't my own language, right?" retorts Lirassa, putting a hand on her hip. "It's prettier 'cause it ain't natural for me, right? I only speak Yangae 'cause I have to!"

"There are reasons for that," offers Gol'br'in in Her-galad.

"Naturally," says Nekshi in Yangae. Then it occurs to her, and she switches to Zorlan Standard. "Subject: Yangae language. Former condition: official language of commerce and administration. Location: this area. Applied time frame: over two centuries. Current condition: replaced. Object: Her-galad language. Agent: new Ergothei administration. Corrected time frame: limited to past forty years. Result: Yangae continues to be prevalent. Conclusion: understandable." (This entire dialog is expressed within a span of two seconds.)

Ham sighs. He has never been fond of telepathic translators. At least he understands what everyone is saying for a change...but the grammar of certain foreign languages squeezed through his tired brain tends to give him a headache!

He's not the only one, either. "Please!" cries Pru. "Yangae! Speak Yangae!"

Nekshi glares in return. "Directive refused. Reply subject: Yangae language. Condition: limited and inefficient. Apparent time frame: any case. Conclu..."

"Stop!" Pru clutches her mop of curly, black hair. "Just stop! Don't! Just d...eh?"

A wave of surprise sweeps through the chamber as all eyes turn to the face that is shyly peeking through the curtain.

Few present have ever seen a face like that in person, and those that have recall the experience with dread and/or hatred. And yet there isn't a single person there who doesn't know the racial identity of those large, tawny, slit-pupiled eyes set in a gray, scaly face...a face that seems like an evil caricature of the human form.

The face of the enemy.

"Don't try to read her thoughts," warns Gol'br'in. "As you know, she doesn't like it, and she hits back. You might not want to get too close, either. Her claws are pretty nasty." He rubs a thigh with a shudder.

Lirassa clicks on her rifle. "Y'all better explain quick," she hisses.

"Put it down," says Bina. "Poor thing! She's frightened!"

"You might want to pull in your senses," says Gol'br'in. "She can turn those on you, too."

"I won't!" retorts Bina. Intrigued with the Ahmonite enough to forget her own problems, she asks, "Where did you find her?"

"She found us," replies Gol'br'in. "Just wandered up out of the tunnels in a state of shock. I gave her sanctuary. We don't have a common language, so communication has been tough. She ran away from something. Actually, you know, since you have a translator, maybe we can..."

"The only way I talk to 'grays' is with this," spits Lirassa, starting to raise the rifle.

Parting Gifts

The minutes pass.
Dabid stirs slightly but doesn't regain consciousness.
Mon'Fargret continues to wrestle with his guilt as both Mey'Luskar and Bina grapple with their respective inner turmoil. (Strangely, Mey'Luskar seems to be handling it with more grace than the disgraced priestess.)
Betham paces about edgily, watching both bead curtains while throwing occasional surreptitious glances at Bina and Gemma.
Nekshi examines the dismembered corpse of the Yoti, apparently interested in the implant that animated her.
Gemma chats with Zeton. He manages to find out that she is a native of Gôtheia (the Hergoth homeworld) who came to Lyranell about a year ago in answer to a job recruitment right out of college...only to have the company that hired her bought out and shut down leaving her with no way to pay her bills or return home. Moving into the squatter community eventually brought her to Gol'br'in...and the vine.
Widjgleeby helps herself to another severed Yoti limb.
Ham, Lirassa, Pru, and Granite Spear just wonder what they are doing there.

After a bit, the Fasion returns, bearing a very nervous look and a package wrapped in woven plant fiber. She toddles over to Mey'Luskar, who is closest to the bead curtain, and holds up the package.

"Here," she says.

"What is it?" asks Mey'Luskar, wrinkling her nose.

Bina looks like her heart has skipped a beat when she says, "Vine!"

Betham snaps to attention.

"You'll need this," says the Fasion, holding the package up more insistently.

Mey'Luskar stoops and accepts the package, glancing around at the others anxiously.

Bina moves away as if afraid of either the package or her own reaction to it.

"Why in Flames do we need that kèl'wòk?" demands Betham.

"To get past the guards," replies Gol'br'in just before he emerges from the curtain. "You'll know. Don't try to fight them. You'll only make it worse. Now..." He holds up his own cargo, a collection of what look like slips of paper. Each has a strange symbol drawn on it. "These need to be charged up." He looks intently at Bina. "Can you, uh...?"

Bina assumes a prayer stance without a word and starts a low chant. Soon her head and upper body are surrounded by a red aura. Using his wand, Gol'br'in starts to draw off some of the power and weave it into the runes.

"What sort of guards?" whispers Mey'Luskar to the Fasion.

"Farbetts," she replies.

Nekshi perks up immediately. Sneering slightly at the Fasion, she declares, "Farbetts wouldn't have much use for the vine! They don't have the correct physiology! We'd fare far better offering them abigatta-domi-fadikema-dallit-tasa!"

Widjgleeby grunts.

"It's not for them," retorts the Fasion flatly.