text: You follow the corridor for some time as the voices become more distinct. They sound rather jovial and cheerful in nature; foreign, too, because they are speaking in a language that you do not understand. It should not be surprising at that, since there are many different varieties of races which populate the skies, each of their own language and culture. Having never left the relative comfort of your own island before, you are unacquainted with the language of any other species.
  
  At the end of the corridor is a large room filled with uniformed men and what you assume to be soldiers. Mercenaries, more likely, from their get-up. Large groups of them are gathered around each table, drinking from mugs and chattering to one another at great volume. Is this some kind of bar, perhaps? It seems a little rough and rowdy for your taste.
  
  You look around and see that the place is not in good condition. Furthermore, none of the men in this room are human. Of course, neither are you, but you do not recognise their kind. Their skin colour varies from pearly-white to a pale purple, and many of them appear to sport partial reptilian features. Are these people really your rescuers? From the way they are looking at you now, you are inclined to doubt it…
  
  “Vnwprthy!” one man shouts, as you step into the room. His gaze is fixed upon you steadily. “Jt’s thf Vnwprthy! Shf’s vp bt lbst.”
  
  Self-conscious about the sudden attention, you automatically tense yourself, but the mercenaries here do not seem necessarily aggressive. All of them are armed to the teeth with various edged weapons and crossbows which are slung across their backs, but even so they appear to be regarding you with genuine curiosity. Perhaps they are just as fascinated by your unique appearance as you are by theirs. Low murmuring echoes through the room, with a few of the man shaking their heads at you. You do not understand the significance of such a gesture.
  
  “Vnwprthy,” one of the men says, standing up and walking towards you. He smiles at you warmly and makes a gesture you do not recognise. “Brf ypv wfll? Ypv’vf bffn bslffp fpr b lpng tjmf. Hpw dp ypv fffl? Brf ypv rfstfd?”
  
  The brief silence which follows his words suggests that he has asked you a question, and is expecting an answer from you. Unfortunately, you haven’t the faintest idea what he just said.
  > You shake your head
  “Ypv'rf npt?” The man seems to be confused by your answer. “Np. Np, ypv're...” He scratches his head and gives you a funny look. “Pf cpvrsf! Vnwprthy. Lvngvbgf...laaa….lan...” For some reason, the mercenary seems to be having a hard time speaking, as if he can't pronounce the word right. “Lan...lang-goo...”
  
  “Lan-goo-rah?” another one tries.
  
  He shakes his head, gesturing to you. “Lan...lan-grah. Lan-gredge. Language. Lan-gruage bah...bah-wee-uh...barrier...” The man steps forward in your direction, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “We...we do not...we do not speak your...” He winces again. “Your lan-grah...”
  
  “Language,” you say helpfully, getting the gist. You try nodding.
  
  He smiles and nods too. “Yfs.”
  
  “Yes,” you say.
  
  “Yfs,” he says, nodding more enthusiastically. Then he shakes his head emphatically. “Np.”
  
  “No,” you say.
  
  “Fxbctly.” A nod of the head. “Yfs.” Shake of the head. “Np.” He sighs. “Js hbrd...is hard.”
  
  “Hard,” you agree.
  
  He sits down on one of the chairs and calls over to one of his companions. “Hfy, thf Cbptbjn wjll wbnt tp sff hfr npw thbt shf's bwpkfn. Spmfpnf tbkf thf Vnwprthy tp sff hfr, vndfrstbnd?”
  
  “Svrf thjng,” one of the other men ventures, getting up and moving towards you. “Cpmf pn,” he says to you, beckoning you over with one finger. “Thjs shpvldn't tbkf tpp ljng.”
  
  You have a very limiting understanding of his words, but it seems that he wants you to follow him.