bart10

Starring: Citan Uzuki, Jesse Black, Sigurd Harcourt, Bart Fatima and Cyan Garamonde.
Where: Deserts of Aveh
Date of Log: I don't remember. Sometime in April 2001.

Citan resists the urge to facepalm. You're winging it, aren't you, Jesse? Clamping his jaw shut however, the man trusts his old commander to lead the way out, and doesn't do more than sigh faintly over the fact you all have to crawl through the ducts. He's rather crawl through shit than have to deal with a bunch of guards and possibly have dead friends. Bad enough that he hasn't been able to see any of you in ten years. Greedy bastard, ain't he? n.n Inside of that, Citan has to cover his mouth and muffle a couple of sneezes, but manages only to make little noises that aren't going to draw much attention. His eyes are a little wide during this though, and he's blushing. Sorry. u.u Can't help it. Dust makes him sneeze. When at last he can get out of the ducts... it's right into sewage. x.x "My wife is going to kill me." And she can do it too. That's the part that sucks the most. After gaining his feet, Citan looks around, frowning thanks to the smell. ew. "Where's your magic paper say next?"

There's a glance to Jesse, and a bit of a smirk over the exclamation, before the instructor shakes his head. "We're going to hell in a handbasket, and you're talking about love. .... Figures." That smirk widens, even as the path Jesse traced only moments ago is followed. Right into a seemingly dead end, until he lifts his hand enough to see the grate above them. Well, it's better than nothing, right? That flame is snuffed, however, as they crawl through the duct -- fire. Dust. Catches aflame. No one wants that, right? Right. At least, in climbing down, he doesn't make Citan's... erm... mistake, in falling into sewage. He's got to be able to keep that white outfit white, right? Well, sort of. Those boots are slimed up to the knees, and that coat is drenched at the tails altogether. There's a sigh, before Sigurd abandons the thing, muttering softly, "Don't even mention that, Hyu." Of course, he's asked where they go next, so for now, he doesn't say anything... or make any flame. Place is just a flammable catastrophy waiting to happen.

This is why Jesse has a bandana around his neck. It works wonders helping him contend with the dust, and even helps filter out the stink of human refuse that greets them as the trio leaves the shaft. "Don't worry, Hyuu," Jesse assures the man with a careful pat on the shoulder, "We'll just tell her I made you do it, and then she'll kill me instead." He doesn't have Raquel to kick his ass anymore. A surrogate boot to the head would do him wonders. As though he wasn't knee-deep in refuse with the tails of his coat threatening to float away on a river of crap, Jesse thumbs open the map and, after seeking a point of reference--he drew the Mr. Yuck face right next to the place where his thumb marks their current location, coincidentally--shoots a glance down either direction and then..turns the map over and holds it closer to his face. "Ah," he decides finally. "That way." A hand is lifted to point northward, before he begins to trudge upstream and folds the map again, replacing it in his pocket. "This should be a short trip, and then we can track muck all over some nice, clean floors...Phew, this stuff is sweet, huh?" The bandana only does so much to muffle the stench, and a heady whiff of it just snuck up under the fabric to accost the Etone's nostrils.

And through the sewers you get to trudge. Hope you have iron stomachs... or haven't eaten anything recently. It really does seem to go on forever and ever. There are hatches here and there that you can't quite reach, unless you go into teamwork to get through it. But, eventually, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and no it's not a freight train coming your way. It's actually sunlight. Seems you guys were in there overnight for it appears to be early morning from the positioning of the sun over the desert. The sludge is being dumped into some kind of hole that goes deep into the ground, so careful there, that last step is a doozy. You can hear the sound of some kind of work going on, shouts of slave drivers and the cracking of whips as well as the quiet moans of men and women made to labor and toil day in and day out. Shakhan was quick to make slavery legal after taking over, and has used the dregs of society, as well as anyone who dared to piss him off, as labor. It appears they are making bricks for building, and no the sewers just happen to come out at this area, the camp itself is about fifty paces away from where you emerge. The slavedrivers are dressed only enough to show they have some kind of rank. The slaves are dressed in mud slicked rags, many of them look as if they are on their last legs. Young and old, men and women. And it's only the morning, imagine what they'll be like by dusk. There is one noble type dressed in white robes and sitting beneath an umbrella, watching all of it while dining on breakfast.

Sorry, but Citan doesn't have an iron stomach. At first he grins at Jesse for the quips and for finding the yuck face on that map, but after that he starts looking decidedly green. Very green. No, he really isn't suppose to match his outfit, is he? One thing he doesn't dare do if reply while in the midst of this stuff. What? Taste it as well as smell it? Bad enough that he can nearly taste it as it is. @.@ Slogging along with the rest of you, trying hard not to think about either how gross it all feels as well as how this all makes his head swim, Citan has to stop at least once to dry heave. What? The man can't do everything after all, no matter if he appears to be able to at times. By the time all of you reach the sunlight he's very pale and leaning against things. Can we get out of here now? Please? The water point doesn't even bother to look out of the grate, and instead just leans on a hand and struggles with his rolling stomach. Damn good thing he hasn't had anything to eat in a long while, eh?

Sigurd has had nothing but medication for the past few days, too groggy for anything else, so gagging up food isn't an option. Regardless of what happens when they get to the surface, he is losing these boots. Don't know about anyone else, but when stench gets into leather, it doesn't let go. A rather nasty thing at that, but at least he can get something back in Noln. If they get back there. He just wants to get to the surface, slogging through the mess as quickly as he can -- the only bit of levity came hours ago, at peering at Jesse's map and the unique sign that showed this place. Still, that was some time ago, and the man's feeling rather ill, for all that he's seen death up close for several years. It's just not quite the same thing, frankly. Death and refuse... just... ugh. That grate is found and opened quickly, the man just pausing from dry heaving altogether. It is the sounds that eventually reach Sigurd's ears that prevents it, hands not willing to touch anything on his person due to, undoubtedly, the slime on them from opening up the grate. Empathy still raw, the emotions of others suffering nearby leaks in, the sounds forced labor causing his eyes to narrow somewhat. Just another nail in Shakhan's coffin, as far as he's concerned. There's a want to stop what's going on right now, an edginess that's conveyed to his companions... and well... all the stress of the day.... he's more than willing to take it out on said noble. Lips curl, more into a sneer than anything, before he comments, "Anyone want to bet how long it would take to burn the guards?" Tired? Yes... but those people don't look as if they'll be able to take their situation much longer.

Jesse hangs back just a bit to let Citan and Sigurd have the first dibs on the untainted air and open space beyond the grate, studying the encampment in the distance with narrowing eyes. "There isn't time," he murmurs, shaking his head even as Sigurd asks about the prospect of an attack. "We've still got to meet up with the others, and figure out a plan. Besides, neither of you is in the best of shape right now. It's too much of a risk. If we attack them now, we'll probably only make it worse for the slaves. So long as the superiors who run that camp from an office in the palace are still around, we can't free any of them anyway. Now c'mon. You two get your bearings and lets get a move on."

There is a faint rising of sand off in the distance, over the dunes that rise and fall like a sea of dry waters. The wind picks up a little, carrying on it a faint sting of sand particles. Sand squall? Possibility. The slavers certainly think so, orders being barked out for everyone to be gathered together out of the mud pits. Hey, they might waste a life or two, on occasion, but it'd be a pain in the ass to replace all of them if they left them all out to the elements to possibly die in the middle of a sand storm. There are a few brick huts dotting the area, apparently the hovels they slaves are sent to at the end of the day. The nobleman probably has an estate somewhere in Aveh to return to. But for the time being, he is having his servants gather his things together to find shelter in the only brick house that appears to be somewhat clean, the one the guards occupy at night.
So this means you guys have a fairly good chance of making a getaway without being seen, for the others are still distracted. Oddly enough, for those who have knowledge of the desert, sand squalls don't usually make cloudy patterns like that. Doesn't seem right either. But, for those unfamiliar with it, storm's a brewing.

Sometimes you wish to be on the neighbor's lawn where the grass is greener. Why is this comment made? Citan is very much wishing that he could be Earth point right now and not have to deal with this rolling stomach. No, he had to be water. @.@ The moment the grate is open, the poor fellow crawls out, needing a boost if Jesse will give one, and then huddles there on the sand for a little time gasping for good air. Sure his clothing is covered in that ick, but at least it's not surrounding him on all sides anymore. Citan actually laughs as Sigurd suggests taking out the guards to free the slaves, for he has to agree with Jesse totally on this one. There is no way in hell he can take on anything right now. Sorry. So he rests there for a time, watching as the slavers decide to pack up thanks to the sand squall. It brings the man to peer at that horizon, and soon he uses a finger to push up his lenses. Well now. focus is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Two and two are added together and an exclaimation point goes on over Citan's head. "That's not a sand squall." He informs the two quietly, hauling himself to his feet. "That's something big hovering." The problem is he doesn't think these people would have a gear that big out here, so why assume it's that? No, instead Citan is wondering if Shakhan has a hover transport that large.

There's a moment where Sigurd is about to open his mouth to protest.... and stops. It's almost comical, really, though the instructor eventually shuts his mouth. There's almost a perplexed look upon his face, though there is a glance back to the slaves the toil away. Stress brings the worse out of everyone, and for a fire point already strained by the death of two of his former compatriots by a Sorceress he'd rather not see again.... even the most patient could break. However, there is something that is keeping him quiet, at least long enough to take in the fact that... something's coming. Being a desert child, he knows good and well it's not any sort of storm... but it does make him wonder what it /is/. "Gears don't make sand react like that." Whatever it is, it's a heck of a lot bigger than that. To even make those that live here react so? Granted, a brunt of them aren't even looking, but.... it's big. Whatever it is. "We shouldn't stick around to see, though." He only pauses enough to rub sand over his boots; if they're walking this by foot, he'll need to keep them a while longer. Even if said thing might be able to get them home quicker.... what's the use in taking chances?

After seeing to it that everyone has cleared the pipe, Jesse hauls himself out as well and, after watching Sigurd do it, kicks up an appreciable bit of sand to cling to his own muck-encrusted boots and coattails, in a vain effort to alleviate the stench and the maddening knowledge that there's...filth..on his clothes. He's hardly the prissy type, but still.
With his hand raised over his eyes like a visor, the Etone watches the swirling phenomenon and shakes his head quietly. It looks natural enough to him, at first. "I don't think it could see us, whatever it is," he ponders aloud, "But it's out there and what we're looking for should be.." He turns away from the 'sand squall' to produce his map again, unfolding it and tracing a route with his finger. "..Over there. Although maybe we should wait and see what this thing is, assuming it decides to show itself." If it's a vehicle of some sort, perhaps it can be 'commandeered'. Then again, with the state his troops are in now, Jesse's starting to look for a path of least resistance wherever he can find it.

Shortly after the slaves are gathered in their hovels and the guards and nobleman are also in sheltered, there is a faint *boom* from that distance where the sand is rising, followed by a sharp, hot wind winding across the desert carrying on it the scent of ignited explosive material of some sort. Smoke lazily curls up far off in the distance. Can you hear laughter in your head yet, Sigurd? Someone you thought was dead is rather close to you proximity-wise. We're not talking Adel here, either. Oh she's alive, all of you can still faintly sense her, but she apparently isn't interested in you at the moment. Perhaps this is a good thing... though who knows what she's scheming.
But, nothing appears over the dunes for a bit, though the sand settles considerably, replaced by the sound of something coming this way. Sounds suspiciously like a Gear. In fact, it -is- a Gear. No, not the Gray one that suffered Sigurd's wrath, nor the Gold one that Jesse cracked the camera lens of, but a red one. Big red one. And it's headed in this direction in a somewhat... choppy manner? Must be a newer pilot. It pauses, just sort of hovering over the sands, as if the pilot were distracted by something and then stands upright, booster packs shutting off for a moment. If someone sent it to find and recapture all of you, then they surely could have sent a better pilot out to do it. >.<

"Shit." Yep, that was Citan. Not bothering with the sand, for he's got a lot of distractions now and one of them is that big red thing that just came over the dun. Unable to hear that laughter, the man stares at it, and then moves a bit unsteadily still to where Jesse is. He wants a look at that map as well. Gears mean trouble, and none of you are remotely ready for that kind of trouble. That's a full on battle gear if ever he saw one. Know it's an omnigear? Nope. Can't tell that from just looking at the outside. All he knows is that it's big, it's red, and the thing is sure to be able to kick all of your asses without even trying. "Hiding ourselves is the best option for now." Citan agrees with Jesse, knowing he needs a bit more rest before he starts running anywhere as it stands. "At least the pilot is poor." Is murmured before he heads towards the area Jesse indicated. Can he sit down for a while more? Please? This water point's tummy is not at all happy with him. u.u Once in a good spot he just colaspes down to the stands with a severe lack of dignity and slumps. Long hair, now mostly free of the degraggled ribbon, slides over shoulders to hide his face.

It's the laughter that catches him. Brushing his mind, touching in a way that only few can do naturally.... family. Without a second thought, it is an emotion that is returned with confusion, the only word escaping his lips being, "....Aniki?" Bart's... here??! But, he thought -- !! Okay, maybe he won't feel completely wretched at this point, though he was darn close just only a few months ago. He doesn't hide, giving a wince at Citan's curse, before a hand moves to shield his eyes. He felt that. He knows he did. The sands continue to shift, and Sigurd merely waits... for what? That emotion is coming closer, and oddly, in time with whatever that is that's kicking up sand. Hide? Now? Sigurd can't bring himself to do it. And it pays off, at least, in his mind. He's never seen it. Not up close. But his father described it. Showed a drawing. Drawings that are probably in Shakan's possession.... and he probably had no clue. No clue that's what he was looking for, that fantastic treasure. Strangely enough, the instructor laughs, a soft, dry sound, even as Gear shuts down.... "Shimatta." It's a good thing Edbart is dead... he'd /die/ seeing this. He tries to yell over the noise, but the sound is lost -- baaaaka. Instead, there is worry, given to the one person that'd /better/ be in that Gear. "....."

Jesse 's attention is stretched taut keeping up with Citan, who seems to be on the verge of collapse, and Sigurd whom, if that laughter is any indication, has just slipped off his rocker. The Commander's efforts to keep Hyuu from getting to far ahead of them-at least at first, and to urge Sigurd along, again only at first, have him pacing back and forth and seeming to be the only indecisive one of the trio, but as the Gear evidences less signs of hostility, he too settles down and finally just stands, waiting for..something. Sigurd knows something and isn't letting on as to what. "Siggy..?" While awaiting an answer and stealing a glance toward Hyuu's rest-spot, Jesse mumbles something about wasting a perfectly good Gear on a slackass pilot..which would be all the more reason to get Siggy away from there if he didn't just know things weren't going to end as he's visualizing them. It wouldn't do to have one of the Elements squashed by a novice. But apparently nobody's getting squashed.

?! O_o

!!!!!! O_O

The Gear slowly lowers into a crouching position, one metal hand rising up to the cockpit hatch which then opens. A blonde head peers out, blinking and then squinting at the trio off in the near distance, or at least whoever he can actually see at the moment, at least Sigurd. He disappears inside for a moment, letting Cyan know he's going out and before the former slave can stop him, he leaps out into the robotic hand and scrambles down into the sand below. Racing through the desert sands, totally unrepentant to the fact that he just left a rather large Gear sitting there as a prime target for either attack or takeover, Bartolomei Fatima is headed straight for Sigurd and will tackle the silver haired instructor and glomp to him unless his brother somehow manages to dodge. "Sig! Jess! Holy shit, what the fuck are you guys doing out here?!?!" So much for Maison's conditioning and 'Kings don't cuss like pirates, Young Master.'
Well, at least it explains why the Gear was behaving like a novice was handling it. O.o

Don't worry, Jesse, this dark haired man isn't going anywhere. Sitting on the sand he just rests, hating the way he feels in about every regard, watching that Gear. It lands and the hatch opens, and a certain blond head appears. All again Citan just has to laugh. The irony of all of this is far, far too much. He doesn't get up though, and instead just sits there and grins as Sigurd get's pounced and glomped. Guess he isn't dead, is he, Sigurd? The smile only grows for having seen the Fire Point's totally stunned expression. Hell, is Citan knew about a gear in that treasury he would have bugged Sigurd into taking him here. New toys are damn cool.
Meanwhile over at the gear... Cyan has had enough of this technology stuff. x.x; More than enough. The man has been thrown around the inside of that cockpit for far, far too long now. What? So it was only a short while. More than enough! The man hates technology with a passion and this is about as technological as you get. You stand there and it works magic. Ug! So, Cyan makes sure he has everything he came with and jumps down from the machine as well. Finally! Feet on terra firma! He'd kiss it, but it's sand and that would be icky. So instead dark eyes watch the four of you, and since Bart is glomping to the silver haired fellow that has got to be the brother mentioned several times previous. Sighing out a weary breath he trudges over through the sand to stand on the outskirts of your little area. Doesn't want to intrude you know. Yep, somehow Bart managed to find a guy that might almost make Jesse look small.

He's got to keep some secrets, you know. And this was one that only the royal family knew about... if not to the extent Sigurd did. But then, Bart wasn't old enough to learn, and sadly, Maison didn't know what was hidden, beyond the fact a Jasper was needed. The man has to give it to his anscestor.... he wouldn't have thought of something like this if he tried. Andvari. He never thought he would see it, or rather, have a need to see it, out and for the world to know it exists. It's the blond head that pokes out of the gear that he was looking for, however, and the relief on his face is evident. "Aniki!!" Yes, that's why he was standing in front of a gear that could no doubt smush him, given the pilot's ability, but one the less, he was hoping that would be the person inside. No, he doesn't move out of the way of being glomped, his poor brother more caught up in a bearhug. "Gods... don't you ever send me a message like that again." What message?? The one where he thought his brother wasn't going to make it back, of course. "Where....? You went to Fort Jasper?" Had to, if Andvari is out. "S'ok.... uhm... this has a story behind it, honest." A sheepish look to his companions, though his attention to come back upon his brother. "Are you okay? I thought you died."

It's a lot to take in all at once. Better just to suck it all into the ol' brain and relax. There's nothing to shoot at and no reason to run. All is right in Jesiah Black's world, so the man trudges over to the embracing brothers in his shit-stained boots and employs a mercifully clean hand to the ruffling of the prince's hair. "You need to learn to pilot that thing before you try any more heroic rescues. That was some damn sloppy driving." Still, the commander grins from ear to ear, and stands back a moment to take it all in again. Bart's safe (whereas surely he'd been in danger, because none of them were watching him and he's damned sure incapable of keeping himself out of trouble), Sig's safe, and Hyuu's getting a bit of down-time..and that looks like a good idea..but maybe later. The new face is studied a moment before Jesse welcomes Cyan with a nod, deciding introductions can wait. Then he turns to plod over to where Citan has situated himself, there to linger until the group is ready to get moving again. "We've got folks waiting for us. Think you can give us a lift in that thing? We need to round ourselves up and regroup someplace other than -here-...Maybe get some rest and a bite to eat before we stir up anymore..." He won't bother to finish the sentence, instead letting his gaze settle reluctantly upon the muck covering his boots, and those of his fellow Elements.

Hey, Bart didn't know a thing about Andvari. He only knew something about a Fatima treasure that Shakhan was so desperate to get his hands on that he let Bart go in alone to get it. Well, not fully alone. He did have some major help. >.> After all, his impetuousness does cause trouble more often than not. But, despite the fact that Sigurd is still a bit mucky from the sewers, the crown prince of Aveh grabs onto him anyway, not about to let go anytime soon, either. At least until his brother starts talking. *blinkblink* "Message? What mess-- you -heard- that?" He pulls back then and lifts a golden eyebrow at his brother. "I didn't send it to you... was just thinking it... shit, Sig, been trying to get back to you all this time." And with that he just glomps his brother into another tight bearhug. "Nope, not dead. Long story.... long story."
Only then does he back off again, wrinkling his nose at Sigurd's appearance and then he's got to duck from under that hand ruffling his hair, "Hey, comeon, Jess, not the hair... don't make me noogie you. I just got it, but you should see it inside!" At that, he's all starry eyed, turning from Sigurd to Jesse for the moment. Yes, he's totally enamoured with this new toy. Never even seen a Gear before, much less piloted one. "So, guess that means you'll just have to show me how to do it, Heh."
Silence for a moment, the blonde watching Jesse head toward Citan. "Yeah... not much room in the cockpit, it'll be a bit cramped," -- not to mention a bit smelly with all three of you still mucky-- "but I can give you all a lift... I guess you got some long story's too, huh. And Sig, what's Fort Jaspe-- Oh! How could I forget... Say hi to Andvari!" And that's when he gestures proudly to the Gear that now just sits there, waiting its pilot to return. "And Cyan, he helped me out bunches." Another gesture to the man standing off to the side. 'Bunches' doesn't begin to describe what poor Cyan has been through in the short amount of time he's known the sunhaired youth.

Citan lifts his head as Jesse walks over to where he sits, and the man is given a wan smile. Nothing is said though as he really doesn't have anything of importance to add. Bart has a gear, it's red, apparently very cool... can we go home now? Yes, even this technician is wanting nothing more than a bath and a bed to crash in. Doesn't even care if he has to share it with the gear. He is damn glad that Bart is alive though. Having to deal with Sigurd during that depression was not fun. No one should have to deal with their brothers dying. And if anyone should know it's Hyu. Since Jesse is standing close, Citan lifts a hand and places it against the other's leg, above the muck. No reason. He just wants to touch and let you know he really is all right in spite of appearances. Only then does he ask, "Is there anywhere safe for us here? Hiding a Gear isn't exactly easy." Just let him know when you are all leaving and he'll get up.
Cyan just nods in reply to those who look his way, and too says nothing. He barely knows Bart, much less any of you, and is a long, long way from hone. The warrior turns from the babble of Fatima talk, and lifts a hand to share his eyes against the sun so that he can look around the area. Herne says there isn't much of anything going on, but watching gives him something to do. Too bad there are no Clean spells. he'd be making liberal use of the things. Bart is sent a sour look for suggesting you all right on the giant... whatever the hell that thing is. Not because he would have to share it, but because... technology is icky! >.< He doesn't wanna ride in that contraption anymore. No, this man is going to damn well WALK back to Midgar. Harumph.

Cyan does get a nod, but right now, the brunt of Sigurd's attention is on a rather rambuncious younger brother, one that has somehow gotten captured.... and away. Bet Shakhan wasn't thinking he was going to get a gear. "Not that he could use it." It is easy to say that Andvari is a family Gear... and it wouldn't be that far from the truth. One can't even get to it without being a Fatima, for Roni set safeguards all throughout the Fort where it was housed. "..... Nevermind," comes, as Bart asks about where he went to get it, only adding, "It's something I need to tell you later." He'd honestly forgotten about the Omnigear, only hearing stories of it in his youth as he and Edbart watched Bart sleep. It was almost as if the man knew something bad was coming... and entrusted it to his youngest son. "I never thought I'd see it in the light of day." But then Bart is asking if he heard that comment, the man nodding solemnly in response. "Scared me half to death." And just after Adel had junctioned one knight.... resulting within the death of his twin. He has very little family left, adopted and all... and he'd prefer not to lose any of them. Caught within another hug, one that he certainly doesn't break from, there's only a soft chuckle, before he whispers for Bart to hear, "You didn't break your promise after all, okay?" Okay.
That said, and Sigurd looking up to the Gear quietly, there's a nod. "He's going to need to learn it. Every Fatima does.... or did." Only a moment's pause in that train of thought, before he shifts out of his brother's embrace, to peel off those boots. Ugh. Can't stand it anymore. "It'll have to be cramped, though, while we teach you. We've got to get out of here before Adel is able to get that Gate fixed."

"We don't necessarily all have to cram inside. For starters, somebody could ride in its hand if they had to." Jesse reaches down to make contact with Citan, touching fingertips to the man's hand as a gesture of confirmation, accompanied by a nod toward the Water Point. "I think we should get Hyuu and Siggy to safety, while I meet up with the other Knights and get them out. Neither of you is in any shape to do much more, just yet. Where should we meet?" Apparently Jesse's planning to split from the group and find the others by himself, cashing in on this golden opportunity to alleviate the strains his fellow Elements have endured while in Adel's captivity. "I can catch up, as long as you don't go too far. Besides, that thing won't travel well with five grown men inside."

"Nani? Adel? The fuck's going on, Sig?" Yes, there's a lot of explaining to do for both sides here. For Bart has no idea how it is that you three came to be out here, on the outskirts of Aveh and you don't know how in the world he came all the way out here and got an Omnigear, besides. And Edbart did know something was up all those years ago. It's not like Shakhan just rose up out of the blue, there were subtle signs, tensions. And then... *BOOM*. Everything went to hell. But, that was all before Bart could really understand any of it.
At Jesse's suggestion, the prince thinks for a moment. "Hmmm... Noln? Or... well, I'd say we could meet back where I found Andvari, but I don't know how you'd find it..." It's kinda hidden, after all. Either way, he's tugging at Sigurd's sleeve, "Come on, then, you gotta see this." And... there he goes, moving way faster than a normal human should, too. Back over toward Andvari, hefting himself up into the palm of that robotic hand and disappearing back through the hatch into the Gear.

There is a quiet sigh from the big man wearing the black and golden armor, but all he does is lift a hand and rub at his temple, face lowered somewhat. Gee... someone's been dealing with Bart for a while now hasn't he? There is this huge urge to cast Sleep on the boy, but that wouldn't help anything either. So all Cyan does is rub in a resigned manner and wait to see what's going on. Other than frustrated at the prince, the gladiator is fine. After all, he's not had the day you three have. Well, he's had a nasty week to be sure, but at least he didn't have to go slogging through sewers as well. "Sir?" This is directed to either Sigurd or Jesse as Citan is on the ground and doesn't look much of anything leader like at the moment. His accent is strange, but he does at least speak the tongue of the four gods well. "If there is a means I can help..." Not knowing what to do, or even where to go.. poor Cyan is at a major loss. This land is on the other side of world as far as he's concerned.
As for the Water Point he pats Jesse's leg for having touched back, and then takes this as a sign he should get himself up off the sand. Climbing back to his feet, he frowns absently down at his ruined attire and then just leaves it. Hair is brushed back out of the way before he adjusts his glasses. "While Noln is a good idea because of Sigurd's relations there, taking the gear would be a mistake. That would just be asking for trouble for the people of Noln, and I doubt they have the means to deal with it. No, if we have a gear we should find someplace it isn't going to stand out quite as badly as it does." Where is that? The man sighs quietly and thinks. Fingertips are drummed on lips as he debates. "Just north of here, in the mountains, is a place that was once the kingdom of Naven. I mentioned it to Sigurd before all of this mess. It was in a valley and isn't inhabited anymore. If we could find it that would give us a place. Maybe a couple of hours that way." And he points to the north and west.