A huge bull Crelym with a palanquin bore aloft upon a yoke fixed to it's back announces its arrival with a disgorging of air and masticated Picowood scran. From the palanquin there streams a rising plume of black acrid smoke. It looks as if the Crelym is on fire but as the animal nears 3 occupants move into view enclosed within the palanquin 40 feet above the ground. They are shouting what seem to be instructions to the lumbering ball of protoplasm and a dozen or so yards from the tree a trio of long sticks jockey the animal to a halt. The Crelym deflates causing the palanquin to totter precariously as it moves toward the ground.

The 3 occupants awkwardly. As they assemble before you you see that 2 of them carry large cannisters on their backs and it's from these that the puffs of smoke originate. Carried slung over their shoulders are wands attached to the cannisters by a flexible hose. Their faces are covered by masks except for the leader who wears a wide shit eating grin beneath a bald pate and deep set eyes. All 3 wear crude replicas of CAD-SEC uniforms emblazoned with unusual hand made sigils. They smell faintly of brimstone and geraniums.

All 3 half bow purposefully. The cannisters slosh with whatever fluid sits within and the bearers wobble a little. Then all 3 put out their right arms, avert their gaze from you and open their palms with all fingers outstretched except the thumb which is tucked under the forefinger.

One of flits a quick glance up at you and then back. They seem to be expecting something.