Sian
Evening, Thursday March 25, 2077; Chasm, the Metaplanes Somewhere

Sian frowns. Now that Shrike has put words to it, the entire thing looks a bit off. She nods her head. “You are correct, my friend. And, besides, I do not recall this wall being here when we came this way. It would appear that the whispers across the way may have decided to take a different tack. At this time I am not sure that I know where we are or how we got here. Our companions are likely experiencing the very same problems and I think that we are on our own. Any ideas on what the next step should be?”

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