Ipola wakens in iron shackles – a slave collar around her neck.  She is nude. A burly eshtakk is standing nearby, keeping watch. 


IPOLA(NARR): Great. Just great.   You see, girl, this is where pure arrogance gets you.  Had to see him for yourself. Had to act on impulse, fly in on a giant bird like some fucking immortal spirit queen or something.  Fucking Erogenian idiot.   


Kor Lachnis and Gorshash are present.  Kor Lachnis levitates the sending ring, examining it with interest. 


KOR LANCHNIS: <Ah – now this is something I had not seen before, though we did suspect the Moon cultists had made some advances on our simpler sending stones and mirrors. Small enough to wear as jewelry – and, if I am not mistaken, it also hath qualities beyond the obvious – very subtle spellcraft went into it – impressive. >

GORSHASH:  <Can we make use of it, lord?>

KOR LACHNIS: <I doubt it. Not without some considerable study and effort on my part, which I have not the time for.>