meanwhile

half-way down the Boardwalk on the edge of the Wandering City, Old Wyrm starts another day.....crawling out of bed and heading towards the bathroom it tries to remember what day of the week it is.....it's belly slides in the familiar groove in the floor of it's cave as it drags itself with massive claws ......it belches fiery gasses, and farts a smoky cloud....too much wine and sweetmeats after dinner....again.....it considers what it might find in the larder.....some cold fowl and a pork-belly will do for breakfast.....and some litres of coffee....some melons......pan dulce?

The crowds for the midway sideshows don't begin to build up until well after noon.....it has the whole morning to get it's head together.....first it needs to go over the racing forms for the Velodrome and the Late Meeting.....should check the bank-account online.....should turn on the news and see how the various galactic wars are progressing.....those always affect the stock-markets.....it grumbles to itself and inspects it's horrid array of fangs in the mirror.....it takes a bucket of mouthwash, gargles, and spits into the tub.....

It drags into the kitchen, and growls at the coffee-maker, getting it started.....

thousands of light-years behind, the star-clipper swiftly slides it's boson-greased keel along the membrane between elemental reality and the astral plane.....speeding our cast of characters towards their destined confrontation with Old Wyrm, and all that such a meeting implies for mankind.....and for the dragons.....