Scene 02: BLACKJACK 9

The container was a snug fit around his shoulders. No matter how he shifted inside it, there was no escaping the fact that he didn't quite fit the moulded, resin box the way he used to.
"Different worlds, different times.", he mused aloud. The words sounded muted, there was so little air for them to resonate in, within the vessel. He was still getting used to speaking again. His jaw seemed to have a clock in his right ear. There was a tick every time he pushed his lower teeth forward. Annoying. He worked through his other muscles, all seemed in good working order. He was especially careful to check the cranial sets that flexed his long, ears.
At last, the container announced in its harsh tone, the approach to a place with breathable air.
"Blackjack 9, Blackjack 9. automatonic interchange sequence initiated. Say your prayers. You are coming in to Land."
He moved his weight to the left, remaining with a better portion of it over that foot. "Sequencing resolved. Is there a soft spot below, I wonder?"
"Blackjack 9, I'm not a skybarge. These requests cannot be acquired."
"Pretty please with oil on top?"
"Blackjack 9, it depends on the oil."
He barked a laugh at that," Well said!"
He hadn't selected the place. He'd simply told the vessel to head for the nearest world that might have life. He'd work out a plan once he'd measured the place and tested his own reduced limits. He busied himself at the control rods. These were always in his hands within the vessel; each one slender, one white as pure alabaster, the other pitch dark. Some star-pilots preferred to have these control rods crossed over their chests. Thinking that having them in proximity to their hearts might make a more direct connection and heighten response from the vessel. He had always opted for the controllers to be tight against his sides, the business ends of the rods pointed straight down. The vessels had a habit of landing too hard for his liking. With the rods' heads down position, he felt he could bring more power to bear if slowing down was required.
There came a too hard thud. Arrival. He waited. The container should have landed upright. He could have chosen to have it be flat but he liked to be seen. This was to allow for any beings who had witnessed his vessel's landing, time to run away or cautiously approach. He'd seen some funny sights at stepping out from the vessel from time to time. He grinned, sharp-toothed, at the recollections. He wanted to await the evening. He felt more comfortable in the darkness. It had always been his preference above ground, below it or entombed.
The vessel gave a shudder. He checked the control rod with the double recurved hook on it. No it hadn't slipped from its position. So his container had been laid flat by some other means. It could only be someone was out there moving it... or some force like water or wind? That's a new one! Brave spirit in whoever it was, if it was a person. His vessel was rather fearsome to look at. His thoughts raced. He hadn't thought to check the environment beyond the container. He twisted the rod, the one with the face carved into its tip. It didn't want to work. His vessel's settings were pre-selected that it should always descend on land. That's the way he liked it. Little chance then that he was being carried off by waves like an untethered dingy. Several smaller shifts in his weight and telltale thumps told him the vessel was being lifted. The rod he'd attempted to activate finally began to heat up in his hand.
Must be damaged. No surprise there. It had been a long, hard journey. He wasn't entirely himself either. At least the rod was working now.
It stopped getting warmer. He closed his golden eyes. He inhaled the weight of the heat from the rod.
Five. Five what though? Humans would be good. They were usually sensible. He considered the five spirits with the aid of the rod. Things were a bit fuzzy. He tapped the rod against his thigh. Scents cleared somewhat.
He'd need to check the rod when he disembarked.
Not humans. It had been a vague hope. These were... a feline group.
"Prideful bunch."
Nothing happened. He cursed himself. Not an actual curse, that would be suicidal! He used the other rod, rotating it, bringing the hook end's point more fully into the pronouncement slot.
"PRIDEFUL BEINGS!"
Damnation, that was loud.
He directed the rod and louvred vents, concealed in the artful designs carved into the vessel's resin exterior, opened.
He drew a breath and sensed the odour of surprise and wonderment from outside of the container. He breathed in again. He filled his muzzle deeply with the scents from outside of his vessel.
What's this now? Canines, With cats? That's interesting. Like old times. Must be a war going on to bring them together... But no... There was a scent of desperation in the cats and a smell of superiority in the dogs. Sensible of the dogs of course but these cats... his ears told him that the felines were moving and as they did chain links rattled. Prisoners. That's what they were. Enforced labour... Good for the dogs! Another breath; this to identify anything important, more distantly located. He ignored the previous, animated smells. There was little vegetation... Some small trees and bushes but widely spread, giving little in the way of cover from the sky or -from the eye. Heat burned away all but the strongest plants. He could smell the burnt-by-heat plants, too fragile to survive the season. So, a cooler period must occur at some point... nothing else much. Rocks heated too. Strong direct sunlight then. Good! However, behind one rock, undetected by those nearest, was a spying... human!
There's always a man somewhere.
The human smelled of gunpowder. Human spies often did. Plotting was a keenly realised human skill. Not that other races were unable at it but men always excelled at it. Fireash, gunpowder, arkenstone, sunvenom. Call it what you will, humans had a strong love for it. More than most others. It made them feel more powerful. He shrugged and immediately regretted the action. He would need to modify his vessel for his larger size.
Ignoring that; the fellow had the faint touches of a life -- no, four lives, lived. Not too unheard of but notable. Then again, given the recent past, having lived a life before and now living one here might be startlingly rare? Likely. So this human bore further consideration. There was also the scent of confliction... or sadness. Something of a past period, not so current but still held closely. Hopefully, this human didn't cling so tightly to this that it informed his every action!
I hate zealots.
Funny bunch, Humans. Mulling over the scent of the man, -- he was male -- it came to him that the man was familiar. Just the man though, not his apparel nor belongings. None of them seemed to be ones he'd ever smelled before. Still, it meant they'd met and that was immediately important.
The man's name was -- shallow inhalation/divided into his seven chambers/compared with his memory/ticked off on the List -- Praetor.
He'd helped this man escape the cataclysm. Saved his family members too. Given him a similar guidance system as his own vessel employed. He'd found the guidance device in a higher vessel's wreckage and as its owner had already perished, it seemed as good a use as any. Of course, that was before. Before the end of Amun's and Nuth's Dream. Before the end of Cygnus. Before he had been splintered in ritual sacrifice by the Spectrum Knife. Sliced to ribbons to 'save' the Dead. He had given into it because Osiris-Ra had asked him to, not because he wanted to. Duty and obedience. That was his lot... Now he had arrived in this new realm, damaged. Well, if not damaged then certainly weakened. Being divided into nine parts will do that to a god --
Could his thoughts be heard by those beyond? Demigod, I meant.
He set the container to emit a shrill sound. The Phoenix Scream of Victory always scared those that had not become used to the noise. It had the desired effect. The beings outside the container fled. Even Praetor seemed to consider leaving but must have realised the source and stayed put in hiding, as the others ran off to distant cover.
He twisted his right heel inward. He felt the vessel right itself so that it would be standing on end. Another heel shift and the vessel's sides split open along its length. Anubis stepped out of the obsidian sarcophagus and into the hot air of the evening. He raised his hand to Praetor and received a similar salute from fifty yards away. At his feet, lying in a pile, an unconscious, black feline; shackled at the ankles but dressed in stylised armour, garbed for travel and for war. Anubis easily placed the feline on his shoulder and walked toward the man. He walked slightly stooped and with the aid of the rod with a face, which obligingly had staff-lengthened to make this possible. His limp was only slightly noticeable.
In his chat with Praetor, he would learn that the man had been cast out of a place called the Greyplane where the Profane resided. That he had lived for some months on a material world called, Miranse and a town called Valetta. Not the Valetta he had departed but one in nature it had been very similar to in some key ways. He'd been happy there but he'd been aiding a Profane and events transpired to force him away from a safe harbour and to another 'Mainstay' world, Tebbaren. This was the 'World of Beasts'. He had made a fast companion of a resident of the land of Felix named, Sala -- she, lying between them. She was a Pantera. Together they had managed to improve her people's lot but that caused the nearest Rakshahasa population to take notice. A series of adventures mixed with a helping of misadventure saw them transported here to, Warren, a Lunar world.
Presently, Praetor had been seeking to reunite with his Pantera companion. She had been taken by the local Hyeen tribe.
At this point in their conversation they awoke the Pantera, Sala. Anubis flexed his crooked rod and her manacles fell into rusty bits.
Praetor mentioned that this world was different from Tebbaren in that the beasts were intermingled. The world was smaller and less able to provide sufficiently for its inhabitants. This meant a great deal of interaction and this was mostly violent in nature.
Anubis was interested, while at the same time confused by the jumbled story of Praetor's recent history. Anubis was comforted by this. Not the confusion but the by the warmth of hearing of a living soul's progress. The facts didn't matter. His main interest was why He had arrived here. He most wanted to discover if he might be able to locate any other of parts of himself.
Sala looks toward his vessel and exclaims in surprise that she knows its design.
Excitedly she speaks of the origins of the beast races. Some believe that seeds had been planted by a powerful Lored of the Winds. These seeds landed on worlds and set the races to growing. These seeds came to the worlds in seed pods. Each was adorned with the nature of the race contained within it. One had the appearance of a feline, Leonas and another of a canine, Settes. These two seed pods had been discoverd and treated with reverence as relics. Both were to be found in the heartlands of their kind. Sala hoped to find a seed pod of her people some day. Some say that these other pods cannot be found because they fell into the sea, after scattering their seeds in the sky. The legends say once found, greatness will follow the race as well as good fortune. She says that he must also be a great Power to step from the seed pod. Sala ends her words with a neck-baring bow to Anubis.
He does not smile as he knows only humans show pleasure in that way. Instead his ears move forward and flattten. This makes his whole manner seem less regal and Sala's eyes flash open in pleasure at the other's humility.
Anubis says, "Sala of the Felines, I'm pleased to meet you. This man I have known from an age long ago. In that time, we held the keys for the mightiest of Loreds. I think we will get on, you and I." Then Anubis turned to Praetor and spoke, "Once we have found a place; to stay, to sleep and some beer, I'll tell you of what brought me to you here. What matters now is that I am weakened by this trip. It is a wonder I live at all. I'm not the being you remember! My power has waned. I might see it restored but that will only occur if I can find all the missing parts of myself."
Anubis did not mean to stop at this but he did, as he burst into laughter at the expressions on their faces as Praetor exchanged a look with Sala. "Fair enough, my new friends! Let us talk about this madness of mine in more detail later."
The evening spilled into full night as the trio spoke of minor things. Accustomed as they were to hot climes, all three took no comfort from the Warren's searing nighttime winds. Anubis motioned with both of his rods and the air grew thick with scents of night blooming flowers, which affected the temperature not at all but did somehow make it more bearable. The trio spoke long into the dark night, telling of things from recent times and in some cases, faraway ones; while overhead new Stars hovered, listening and waiting to have their stories learned...