LC

Stellar Horizon: The Echo Protocol

FUGGIT it fires .410 and 45 now, Eagin The Iron Wrist McDorrel XD

Stellar Horizon: The Echo Protocol

Oh gods how'd that zero get there, that was supposed to be .38 xD Nice easy carry for the aged doctor. I blame typing those up on my phone at work

Stellar Horizon: The Echo Protocol

I would be the one who has ideas for both the science and security roles xD I'll post up both sheets just in case, and we can figure out who does what afterwards? Unless you just want science officer, I am happy to yield on it. Also damn called out on the edgy security role xD But when in Rome... Make it extra edgy. I'm completely fine playing either of these two depending on who else wants which role.

The Harmacist

Name/Callsign:
Eagin McDorrel, "Doc"

Appearance:
At 5'9" and leanly built, with streaks of gray to adorn his hair and beard, the doctor may have passed for any average, aging doctor in his crisp suits and white coats. Prone to sleepy smiles and generally pleasant airs, his patient, peaceful persona is more than a little at odds with the scars that make notable an otherwise unremarkable appearance- long and vivid against the flesh of his face and neck.

Age:
53

Gender:
Male

Race:
Human

Role:
Science Officer, Medical

Biography:
Eagin was slated to be a doctor long before he knew what a doctor even was. With his father neck deep in pharmaceutical research, and his mother riding the bleeding edge of the surgical field, there seemed to be little question that Eagin would wind up in the field in one form or another. For some, such a predetermined path might have chafed, led to rebellion, a career in the arts. For dear Doc, it was fitting as a surgical glove. A keen mind and a passion for medicine made for smooth sailing along this destined path; He was out of school and scraping in residency hours by his early twenties, and by his thirties, had taken a deep interest in space. Rather, in the people who would explore it. He signed on with the military as a civilian contractor, and began serving with exploration and defense vessels as a shipboard doctor.

For years, he expanded his expertise, studying what could be found in the stars while tending to the health of those who enabled him to explore them. He branched into research fields outside of medicine, and learned that sometimes, getting somebody to attend a checkup or take their pills required a degree of hounding and insistence. He learned, too, of the harshness that came with adventure. He found himself treating wounds from violence as often as accidents, either scolding his charges for recklessness in the face of alien fauna, or quietly seething at the cruelty of brigands and pirates who thought exploratory vessels easy pickings.

It was the latter, over time, that led to his... Troubles. With passing years, he found it more and more deplorable that anybody should take it in their head to bring harm to one of his patients. His pleasant manner grew tense, grim, as violence built in pressure inside. Some five years ago, things reached the boiling point. A boarding crew took control of the vessel he was posted on, and rather than allow them to menace and injure his charges, Eagin let go of the Hippocratic oath. He dealt harm before harm could be dealt, and poisoned the meals of the pirates- before executing the lot of them while they choked.

By the time the deed was done, and order restored, Eagin had resigned himself to the consequences. He was, of course, removed from his position- avoiding imprisonment only narrowly, by pleas of duress and self defense in the face of piracy. His medical licenses were revoked, his practice ended, and he was left to find his own way... Until ExoGenesis found him instead. They pulled a few strings, made a few things go away- and so long as he kept his mouth shut and stayed on their vessel, he was given the go ahead to start doing what he loved all over again. This time, he decided, he was going to do it his way from the start.

Traits:

Trait 1- Preventative Care
Eagin believes that the best way to keep his charges from injury, is to remove threats before they can strike. He keeps himself armed, and is a skillful shot besides.

Trait 2- Razor Sharp
Doctors are expected to be smart, and Eagin is no exception. As a general practitioner and emergency medic, he more than knows his stuff- and he loves and breathes to constantly learn more besides. An unquenchable thirst for knowledge drives him as much as his desire to keep his crew healthy and happy.

Trait 3- Looks that Kill
Eagin has grown used to tending to the unruly, the strong willed, and the generally doctor avoidant. Despite his patient, pleasant temperament, he has a startling force of will, and has perfected the art of staring somebody into compliance. Failing that, he will happily find more underhanded and clever methods of treatment. Anything to keep people healthy.

Trait 4- Not So Criminal Contacts
The scientific community is vast, and no man is an island. Eagin is a talented researcher, but when encountering something outside of his expertise, he knows who to call to find out more. His network of researchers, enthusiasts and scientists is vast- if he doesn't have an answer, somebody he knows will.

Trait 5- Pharmaceuticals
What kills may yet heal, and what heals can certainly kill. An encyclopedic knowledge of medicines and the plants from which they can be derived make Eagin ready to craft whatever medicines, or poisons, may be needed to get a job done.

Equipment:
Injector- A modified compressed air dart gun rigged to fire small syringes, the contents of which may vary. Arguably more dangerous than his sidearm.

Judge, Jury, Executioner- A long nosed Taurus Judge, a sidearm that stood the test of time. Chambered for .410 shot and slugs, and 45 magnum. Try him.

The Bag- A leather scrip, carefully crafted with on the go doctoring in mind. It has everything a doctor might need in an emergency, and then some.

The Experiment

Name/Callsign:
Jin Long, "The Bot"

Appearance:
Jin was, prior to the suit, a soldier like any other- Average enough in appearance, but athletic, carrying himself with the discipline and poise suited to his role. Now, all anybody gets to see is a visor, and the faint shadow of the face inside. The armor is industrial, functional, and not at all pretty- but it's all he has, now.

Age:
28

Gender:
Male

Race:
Human, Enhanced

Role:
Security Officer

Biography:
Jun was a soldier. So far as he's concerned, he still is, despite everything. He had a good career, a comfortable position as a warrant officer, good scores, a solid track record. Not the best of the best, or any kind of indespensible, but worth his pay. He could almost wish he hadn't been. They needed volunteers, smart soldiers who knew their way around tricky equipment, and he was happy to sign on.

It was supposed to be temporary; Help them test a new piece of equipment in the labs before it was sent out for field testing with the SF boys. Powered Armor. The fantasy of ages, featured in every book, movie, and conversation about the far future since the twentieth century. They said it would be revolutionary, that it was perfectly safe and ready for testing. He climbed in with all the eagerness that could be expected, listened as they gave instruction, explained how it worked. It would tap into his nervous system, take direction straight from his brain, as efficient as his own muscles. It would just altake some practice, and with his help, it would change the face of the special forces.

At first, it all went just how they described. Pain, as needles pierced his spine, then relief, as painkillers followed on their heels. Enough that he never felt the burning. For hours, they ran tests, had him perform basic tasks, just getting the armor to move. When they were satisfied, and tried to remove the armor, the fault was discovered. Data overload had heated the connections between him and the suit, and what fail-safes had been in place hadn't worked as intended. The needles were fused to his spine. Removal would kill him.

For months, they kept him in the labs, seeking a solution, trying to save their project, more than him. A liquid diet, fed through injectors in the suit, kept him alive. Waste scrubbers kept him from sepsis. It has been meant for long missions, after all, weeks of wear. Weeks, but not forever. Eventually, they decided there would be no way to get him out of it alive. He could persist for a few years, maybe a decade, before he simply wasted away inside the suit. The problem was that the suit was still government property, still classified, kept behind layers and layers of red tape and secrecy. What time he had would be spent locked away in labs, studied and prodded, with only the slimmest hope of a discovery to save him.

He didn't plan to wait around and find out that way, or to see how long it took them to decide the better option was just to kill him and move on with the project. In desperation, he staged an escape, thinking a short life on the run would be better than one in a lab. He didn't get far, before somebody found him. ExoGensis. He was too valuable to lose, they said- or at least the suit was. So they offered him a happy medium- work for them, and he's at least get to go out in the stars.

Traits:

Trait 1- Suited Up
Despite its core failure to be removed, the suit itself is functional, and well designed. While not particularly agile, it provides unrivaled physical power and durability, let alone the inclusion of some hefty weaponry.

Trait 2- Full Suite
The armor is equipped with short wave communications, diagnostics, and local sensory hardware, keeping Jin aware of his surroundings, condition, and companions at all times.

Trait 3- Mobility
The armor certainly can't be called agile- but it's damn well all terrain. Pressurized and sealed, it can function under water, in vacuum, and at any altitude in between, and is equipped with a powerful, but limited, jump jet. He can't fly, but he can leap.

Trait 4- Joy for Spite
Jin knows where this road leads- He's the walking dead, and it either comes fast or slow. He's determined that what time he still has, he'll spend in a good mood. Unerringly cheerful and upbeat, he's making it his personal mission to keep cracking jokes and downplaying his circumstances until the end. After all, he might be dying, but at least he'll never be the shortest guy in the room again, right?

Trait 5- Remote Feed
While he shut the a hardware down during his escape to avoid being locked down, the armor is equipped with a remote feed- both for sending data back to a home server, and for controlling the armor remotely in the case of pilot death. A connection to the ship may prove useful in the future.

Equipment:
The Suit- Powered Armor. Permanent, killing him slowly, and with all sorts of toys.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Sagamiyama - Sakuhana Park
Night

Another Hollow felled, as their most notable foe took its leave of the field- And another moment of hesitation that allowed the rest to escape. Quietly, as the strange archer left and Ouga turned that weary stare upon them all, Darius cursed himself. Hesitation after hesitation, moments of uncertainty that had cost them, all of them, dearly. The kids were young, yet untempered, but what was his excuse? After all he had seen, he should have been faster, more decisive. He might have saved the youths some hurts, if he had been. He could tell himself it had been shock, the realizations of how real it all was, the new sensations of wielding... Power, in new ways. It might even be true, yet it wouldn't lead to better results the next time, or the time beyond.

Blowing out a soft, frustrated sigh, he scrubbed a hand through his short hair, nodding a farewell as Ouga sprinted off. He, and Shouko, could find and tend to the others better than Darius could for now, and there was no sense of dread for their fates to drive him after the soul reaper. He had a feeling the kids would be fine without him for the night, even if they might have come out a bit rough for the experience. So, with soft uttered farewells, and a few parting bits of praise for their shows of strength and bravery, he took his leave as well- Trotting off into the night towards home.

---

---

Sagamiyama - The Stone Household

It was with some small regret that Darius returned to his body, back in the comfortable confines of his home. He had still felt the ache of his injuries in his spirit form, but distantly, as if they were a memory. Now, they returned full force, and all the sharper for it. It brought a groan of discomfort from him, and he had to spend some few minutes braced against the kitchen counter to keep his knees from buckling, the soul candy tucked safely back into its container in his pocket. Let alone the fatigue of the night's activities, felt just as strongly in physical form as in spirit, as exhausting as any long ruck had ever been. Focusing on taking slow, steadying breaths, gaze far off out the window, he never heard Aiko's approach until he felt her hands sliding under his arms a warm embrace from behind. Allowing himself a soft smile, he settled a hand over hers on his chest, turning his head to look at her as she laid hers against his shoulder.

"Your stomach keeping you up?"

A slight nod, in response, and a squeeze of her hands.

"My stomach. It'll heal. Sooner rather than later, I hope. I think... I think maybe I need to be stronger, again. Better. I haven't felt that way in a long time."

Her laugh, playfully scornful, was belied by the assurance and affection in the squeeze of her arms around him, before she pulled away, hands still holding his to drag him in her wake.

"You're lucky I like that you're so dramatic, Aijin. Come to bed- You can get as strong as you like after you get some real sleep."

---

---

Sagamiyama - The Candy Shop
Mid-Morning

Darius slept long, that night, and heavily- Hardly stirring when Aiko left for work, and only rising to answer the call of a rumbling stomach once the sun was already well above the horizon. He was half way through a hearty breakfast, feeling far better for the deep rest, when his phone buzzed to life in his pocket, declaring the location of this Candy Shop Ouga had summoned them all to. He decided, with a glance at the time, that it was nearby enough that he could afford to burn a little extra time before he left...

And so it was that he arrived, some half hour later on, with a large, foil covered platter in hand, the aromas of meat and egg and spicy things wafting from a few steam holes in the foil. He'd brought brunch, enough for everybody and then some in case of bottomless stomachs, just awaiting the arrival of the others to step inside and start passing the food out. After all, nothing took care of a night of jitters and uncertainty like good, heavy food.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

---

---

A title, one that seemed long forgotten now, even after so short a span as it had been. It rang in Kiffar's ears, and brought ice blue eyes quickly to Captain Renault's face. It was such a simple request, and he couldn't decide if she meant to flatter him into compliance, or insult him into it. For a long moment, he simply stared, ears perked high and tail lashing, whiplike, behind him. For all his air headed behavior, those eyes were sharp as augers, uncomfortable for any unfortunate soul without a stalwart disposition and a spine like daedric steel. But then, surely, the Captain of the Blades had both.

Slowly, he decided she could not have meant insult by her words. Her duty was akin to his own, true, but he could not expect her to understand the depth of his shame, the shame of all the Manesguard, in the failure of their duties. Still, it would not do to let her carry on under the pretense that such claims were acceptable. He stooped low, bringing himself almost nose to nose with the Captain, voice low and words measured, a care given to sound... Proper, in this foreign tongue.

"Kiffar.... Is Manesguard no longer. This one remembers Captain Renault. She is proud, and capable, and Kiffar's Once-Kin, his... Fellows, spoke highly of her company in the negotiations. But she will not call this one Manesguard again. Kiffar is Unbound, forever, and always, and he deserves no better. But he will do this thing for you, for the fair hand her Mane-of-Men, her Emperor, dealt Kiffar's kind, however loaded the dice."

With a heavy sniff, he straightened, seeming content to have set the matter straight. Still, there was a set to his shoulders, now, something more ready than before, a more watchful feel to his wandering gaze. He awaited the others to come to readiness- And of course, when their things caught up, he was among the first to rummage through the chests of gear to fetch what had been taken. Heavy blades were returned to their places at his belt, weights and plates returned to wrists and legs. He seemed vaguely disappointed to find one item missing, rifling through the chests a little longer in search of it, though its apparent loss earned only an irate snort in the end.

"Silly man-things, taking Kiffar's sugars. No fun at all."

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

---

---

For long minutes, as each member of their group fell into line and trailed into the tunnels revealed to them in their pardon, the sounds were of soft chatter, and of walking... And walking. And walking some more. The sounds of feet both booted and bare, and of clawed paws in one case, echoing through the long dark. For Kiffar, the blinding mage light cast by Verinric was of little concern- his bulk, shoulders and head brushing the ceiling and walls of the tunnel, blocked it from extending forward in more than ribbons that slipped around his arms and sides. He needed only march along in relative darkness, following the tunnel by feel and hoping quietly that he did not discover any low points with his face before his whiskers.

"Kiffar's claws are always sharp, Elfling. He will be just fine to shred anything that comes while the man-things and elf-things are without their little weapons, worry not."

It was perhaps half way to the end of this first tunnel, however, that a problem arose. So much movement in a place long undisturbed was bound to kick up dust in abundance, and with Kiffar practically scraping it from the path as he went, he had no way of avoiding it. He paused at the fore, perhaps long enough for others to run into each other, crowding in his wake- and before the Blades might threaten him to keep moving, loosed an explosive sneeze. I'm tight confines, the sound was louder than it had any right to be, echoing ahead and behind forcefully enough to leave the more sensitive listeners in their group cringing for it.

"Ahh-- Excuse Kiffar, this place i-- i--"

Another blast of a sneeze, as he resumed his walk, stumbling now and then with another. It was going to be a long trek...

"Is very dusty, yes?"

Blessedly, the vast felines allergies, and the aural suffering it brought to his new fellows, were not destined to last forever. Within a few minutes more, dim light began to creep in around the gaps between Kiffar and the walls, making the mage light just a touch less necessary, bit by bit, until at last Kiffar swept out of the passage into the large chamber beyond it, letting the light through unfiltered. He brought half the dust and cobwebs in the tunnel out with him, a cloud by the entrance that would take time to settle, and one he was quick to step out of with one last violent sneeze.

Standing out of the way to let the rest emerge, Kiffar peered around with an indignant snorfling, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose, dangerous fangs bared in a grimace as if he might start up again. It would probably be best to give him a little space.

"Grah- Kiffar has decided he does not like small tunnels. Mane-Of-Men should have his clean-makers clean them better, yes? Rescues and escapes should not be noisy with the sneeze-making. Dangerous to let the sneakers and plotters know that Kiffar is coming, or they may hide in nooks he will not fit in. Kiffar cannot do violence where he does not fit."

Funny, that the thought of something not running and hiding from him never seemed to occur to him. He watched the rest pour from the tunnel with that half grimace of a smile, toothy as it was goofy, tail swaying lazily. So far as he was concerned, he was simply out for a stroll, waiting to be told where to go next.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Sagamiyama - Sakuhana Park
Night

Darius found himself in a strange position, after loosing that blast of Kido. His body buzzed with the energy of it, feeling as if somebody has stuck him next to high voltage wires and told him to stay put. He saw it stroke home, saw that it wasn't quite enough to finish the job- and yet for a few critical seconds, couldn't make himself move an inch to follow up. That excess charge, wasted energy in a first, rookie attempt at using Kido outside of training, at full power, held him fast.

By the time he shook it off, feeling like he was pushing through molasses, events were already moving well out of his control. The boys had all charged in to do battle, and further up the street Ouga clashed with Regalhorn in a frightful display. It seemed the Hollow had the best of that exchange, too- as if they all might elbe in danger of losing here, if something didn't change soon. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, just in time to see the humanoid Hollows go on the offensive, drawing his focus in tight. Tony and Bakuto under threat, Mikazuki just holding his own, and Mitsuaki and Sara nowhere to be found, with no way for him to know if they were hurt, or even alive.

And all despite his promise to himself to protect them. Not a scratch, he'd said. Not a damn scratch.

He moved the moment he could again, a wordless, snarling shout drawn from his chest as he lunged towards the hulking Hollows that had swung on Bakuto and Tony. He went on instinct, relying on what he knew. Swords were new to him yet, unreliable in unskilled hands, so he left his at his waist and counted on his hands. That excess of energy that had stunned him, drawn back inwards to focus on his fingers and knuckles, a trick he'd picked up from Ouga during training in those first weeks to lend force and authority to blows that otherwise might barely touch creatures like Hollows. All into one point, and unleashed as he drove his fist towards one of the creatures' side, right where the ribs would stop on a human. A nasty liver punch if ever there was one, with all the force of a Fang Blast behind it, in the hopes of sending it flying into its companion, and away from his.

"GAHOU!"

Whether that blow had the intended effect or not, though, there was hope to be found, in the arrival of the cavalry. A flash of blue light from up the street, and the arrival of a friend- somebody strong enough to make Regalhorn turn tail and run, at least, let alone the figure they brought with them, yet unnoticed by Darius, but sure to lend their aid soon enough. He let himself breathe a sigh of relief, even as he put himself between the boys and the Hollows once more, arms up and ready to defend.

"You boys alright? Nevermind it- if you can stand, you can manage. One of you go help Mikazuki, one of you help me- it looks like help is here, but we're not done until these are dead."

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

---

---

Kiffar had been, for lack of a better descriptor, catatonic for several minutes now. In the way of orange cats everywhere, he had picked a random shadow to stare at, and promptly become vacant of all thought and expression, save the occasional flicker of his tail. As a result, he missed the majority of conversation in the time since he had seated himself, stirring only once the authoritative shouts of the approaching Blades became audible. That, at least, was enough to make him blink a few times, seeming to return to the present from whatever abyss had borrowed his attention as they were all herded to the sides, and issued instructions. He found himself pressed to the wall at the rear, just beside the opening tunnel, and thankfully without squishing anybody else between himself and the wall.

It took him a few moments to process and mentally catch up with the goings on, but soon enough, he dipped into what fraction of a bow he could manage while crowded back against the wall, fingers brushing his chest, icy eyes locked on the Emperor and his escort. He was familiar with them, in passing- vague memories of time spent guarding the talks between Emperor and Mane, before things had gone so wrong.

"Mane-of-Men, this one is pleased you still breathe. Kiffar thanks you for this pardon. He regrets that he is no longer worthy of offering service to the Mane-of-Men, but Kiffar will gladly make clear the tunnel's exit for him. Come, Elfling. Witch-woman, Darmon-Thing, and the fancy man-thing should come, too. Maybe the lizard-things, yes yes. We will go take fresh air and give hands to things that may lurk and skulk beyond. As a favor for the pardoning, yes? Then maybe come back for Kiffar's things from the things-box. Kiffar likes those things."

He seemed to have little interest in hanging around to see if the others followed his presumed lead- indeed, his words were muffled by the time he was half done speaking, as the massive Khajiit ducked down and started his way down the passage opened at the back of the cell. On the bright side, he made an excellent duster on the way, with his shoulders brushing the walls and his head the ceiling, clearing the tunnel of cobwebs by simple virtue of walking through it ahead of everybody else. If the tight space bothered him, he didn't let it show- or at the very least, he seemed determined to resolve the problem by getting to the other end with expediency, moving briskly and stalling for nothing. He'd find the exit soon enough. Hopefully. Probably. If it wasn't locked.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Sagamiyama - Sakuhana Park
Night

---

---

Darius nodded, pleased as the chaos started to settle- A solid plan, and solid support, made all the difference in the world in keeping a level head. A level head, of course, made all the difference in living to see another day. As his barrier was reinforced with another overhead, and the boys settled on a plan, he grunted his approval and starting back a few steps to get clear of the barriers, leaving the others to keep the Hollows at bay, trusting the barrier to keep them safe... Safe enough, at least.

"Just keep slashing at them! Don't let them get around, kill them with papercuts! You boys can do this- It's no different than whack-a-mole!"

Further back he trotted, until he had a clear line to the sky, drawing on the same strange, unfamiliar power that had let him craft that wall in the first place. Magic. Kido. Whatever they called it, it was mystical to him, and some parts of it just worked better when he built them around things he was familiar with. It was how he had figured out he had a talent for it, stumbling on it almost by accident when trying to copy something he had seen one of the proper reapers do during their training. A great red ball from the palm of their hand, fast and explosive. Shakkahou, they had called it. A cannon blast, red as a dying star.

He had thought it would be funny to imagine it on a smaller scale, a pistol beside a cannon. Doing the motion, picturing it in his head, something so familiar, had been the key to unlocking the ability. He did so again now, focusing on the Hollow flying in the air above them, hand moving on muscle memory- drawing an invisible pistol from his belt and aiming it high, focusing power in his fingertip, packing it tight, imagining the pressure building until he could practically see the imaginary bullet, primed inside his finger. They had told him to name the technique. These Soul Reapers seemed to put a lot of stock in naming things; and in hollering those names loud and proud when they were performed. That was familiar, too. Shouting the process was training bread and butter.

"Down here, you big bastard! Let's see that ugly face- Looks like a damn bat got busy with a walnut! TAMAHOU!"

He let the technique fly. Just like a bullet, it erupted from his finger faster than he could see, with a thunderous crack- a fast, lethal shot of raw kido sent rocketing towards the flying Hollow, aimed to catch it right in the center of the mask. Just as they'd been taught.

The Elder Scrolls: In the Shadows of Oblivion

---

---

Of all those in the cell, only a few looked his way- and of those, only two bothered to answer his greeting. Kiffar was beginning to think these people would not be so sociable, and the yearning for his old cell had already begun... Though these ones, at least, didn't spew whatever insults came to their vile tongues without hesitation or filter! For Darmon, he had an appreciative nod, accepting the man's name, respecting the will to actually green him in turn. For Yarmira.... Well, when dealing with crazy people, special care must be taken, and Kiffar was nothing if not accommodating to those with particular needs! He resisted the urge to lean away in horror as the little treefling declared that she had used his corpse well, wondering at what horrors she foresaw in her mad premonitions of his death, only to see that she was comparing him to a Senche. That almost made him scowl, stricken by the blatant racism, but it would do no good for a madwoman.

Besides... She followed it so swiftly with flattery, and he did love flattery. He instead offered his best, toothiest grin. It was a horrifying sight, truly, an approximation of a smile ill suited to feline features. Why the many manthings and elfthings did not simply tip their ears and blink their eyes, he would never understand. For good measure, he extended a hand to pat her head, between the strange antlers that adorned her, ruffling her hair in a manner that probably came with some risk of whiplash. Divines, but he could probably pick her skull up like a yarn ball with those murder mittens!

"Kiffar is... Pleased this one has been so resourceful, yes? The treefling did very well. Kiffar is... Yes, Kiffar is here to help the treefling. But Kiffar must have dinner first, and the guardthings will bring the dinner Kiffar has asked for, with the little potatoes. Or else the guardthings will have to fix two doors."

The last, he spoke over his shoulder, loudly enough to be clearly audible in the corridor even with all the chaos. Satisfied that his point was made, despite zero evidence to confirm it, he shuffled his shoulders contentedly and began the arduous task of pressing his way deeper into the cell, seeking a space he might have room to sit or curl up. Instead, he found himself thigh-to-face with a foppish man who seemed to be declaring himself the loin-lapping champion of his kind. Kiffar blinked lazily, leaning forward to stare straight down at poor Isai in confusion.

"This one... It flirts with the witch-woman? Kiffar thinks she will eat you, too, but her way will be much less fun than yours. Scoot, scoot, fancy man-thing. Kiffar will sit here, and the man thing will be scooted or be a cushion. Treefling! Darmon-Thing! Come, come, sit with Kiffar, tell him of why the many manthings and elfthings are here, while we watch the fancy one be eaten by the witch-woman."