The Secondary Saga

[Gamzee Makara]

GROUP 4

Ach... This is hardly the time for such things, but then again, I suppose we won't get many more moments of peace, and if we are to trust one another, such exercises in futility must be completed. One by one, voices spoke up, and names were introduced, as the automaton suggested. The eye-like robot introduced itself as 'IRIS.' Not quite the acronym I would pick for such a device, but so be it. A strategist could be of use. The technology behind this device...It intrigues me to no end, but there is hardly the time for an examination of this contraption. She (it, really) brings to light that there may be an antidote growing within these dark halls. I am skeptical to believe this, but say nothing for the girl's sake.

It was the pirate that spoke up next. He was sporting a bit of a nasty blow to his stupid kopf. It will likely need addressing once these pleasantries have been exchanged. This fellow's name is Crow, Captain Crow, as it were.

I'm not calling this brash kasper Captain.

He reaches for a flask containing no doubt some gut rot alcoholic swill. I do not blame the man. If this situation did not call for a clear head, I may be reaching for such a flask as well.

Then there is the silver-haired youth. He informs us that his name is Grave and that he is...Nephilim? Myths of old, coming to life. Had I not already been so...so in touch with Agartha, I may find such things hard to believe. The whispers of the Aether, ARGH! They tell me so much. The things I have heard, the things I have seen; they lead me to believe that there are much, much stranger and impossible things in the world than Nephilim. Grave shrugs off my warning and decides he will drag the girl through the dangers of this dungeon single-handedly. I roll my eyes, a sneer upon my face. Perhaps his reanimated corpse would be more compliant.

Eh. Probably not. Just like the rest.

This one may even have more spirit and youthful pride than that of our seafaring friend. He boasts of his power, and his desires to kill the God of this world, Omni. How close minded, how foolish. Such dreams will only result in a gruesome death or worse. The girl in his arms remains quiet. Apparently, we will receive no introduction from her.

And then there was one: a soldier of some military that is unknown to me. His name is Jan Templar, and he has a ficken arrow in his back. Yet another wound for me to hopefully mend correctly.

I do however recall that I have yet to use the healing capabilities of mein staff, but I would prefer to spare the three uses I have for near death situations and emergencies. Besides, so far everyone I've tended to has about a 50/50 chance of not developing into a critical condition. So, that's wunderbar!

There is pain in this man's eyes. They are similar to the Russian's. It is obvious this soldier has been through strife.

"Ah, yes. Me. Myself. My name is Edward Richtoffen, but you may all refer to me as Doctor, Richtoffen, or both. I am a German scientist, and that is all you need to know for now. As unlikely as this alliance may be, I am no stranger to such predicaments. We must move with haste. Needless to say, I say this from experience."

At any rate, there is much to do, so much to do. We must move with haste. Waiting here in this cramped room for something to happen is equivalent to just waiting to die. I quickly go about tending to the most pressing of injuries, stopping the flow of blood in Crow's head wound, and carefully removing the arrow from Sir Templar's back. Crow's wound was simple enough to patch up. However, he may be dealing with a small concussion in the future. The latter was the more difficult of the two, as it was quite painful for the subj- PATIENT. Painful. For the patient. I patched up this soldier as best as our materials allowed. That is to say, the most I could accomplish is stemming the flow of blood. He is as ready as he can be in present circumstances.

There was little I could do for the robot, as I had no way to understand the technology behind it, much less access to the necessary tools to make repairs.

I turn to the 'Captain,' and glaze over him with my eyes. "Well, this should be no different than running a ship. As long as none of us come down with scurvy, I'd say you'd be a fit leader for our endeavor through this temple."

I have nothing against this man, truly, or any of my would-be companions. However, I am cautious of these strange beings. Who would not be?

Translations:
Kopf = Head
Kasper = Clown/Fool
ficken = Fucking
wunderbar = wonderful/great