Walking along a well trod path, the small feline girl was too tired to skip like she'd opted to at the beginning, having hoped to find a nice stranger to make her legs. Not actually inclined for hard work, Lady Briar usually used devious means to get things done. She wasn't known as the Queen of Chaos for nothing, after all (well, besides the fact that only she called herself that in the first place). A small yawn left her thin lips, her body curling into a stretch as she found a nice patch of green to rest upon for a bit. A nice bit of greenery with just the right amount of sunshine, perfect for a lazy nap in the forest. "Nng. Sun, you're too bright!" Cursing her feline senses, she had gone from curled up comfortably to cursing the sky above. A smirk on her face, she opted to try something. "Sesnel hineve knud, akil es!" Focusing on herself, she held her face with her hands. With any luck, her illusion would affect her, making her sight blur so the light wouldn't bother her quite so much. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked, and instead she saw a spark of light she couldn't even describe the color of soak into a tree. Groaning, she curled back into her ball, tighter. "How can I sleep if I can only blind trees...? If only I could ask the dead how they do it. That'd be a relief..." @Lucia Mierz
"I think it's sleeping..." "Do you want to wake it up?" "... Why?" "The Queen doesn't usually like collateral damage." "Tedious..." It was a bizarre conversation. One voice was icy, frigid and harsh sounding, as if viewing the world in disdain without care. A cruel and unreasonable voice that treated most things as obstacles or problems to be solved without any further depth. The other was a bit warmer, an ethereal tone, wispy and otherworldly that seemed to be carried on a gentle breeze-- as if it were coming from somewhere close, from right next to the ear. If the small woman opened her eyes to look, she'd see a pair watching her from not far away, one covered in exquisite plate armor, it's craftsmanship was praiseworthy and it's decorations were also rich with thought and had a touch of noble flare. The figure alone made it clear it was a woman with a slim and lithe figure, the armor wasn't bulky but instead compact and supported mobility. the half cape on the back even had the symbol of a dreadful star, her face was beautiful, smooth with cotton white hair free from blemishes. Her eyes though were blood red, lacking pupils or any discerning features, the bright red vibrant eyes were filled with an icy and indifferent lack of care. The other figure was more masculine, wearing a long black coat that covered him completely, it dragged across the ground and sported a large upturned collar that covered his head exposing only his face and what portions of his side burns one could see from the front. The dirty brown hair was cleanly cut, but the person's face was covered with a silver mask that seemed as if it were burned into place by pouring molten metal over his face. The words he spoke didn't come from his mouth that was sealed by the mask, even more alarming was that the occasional breeze would blow making his coat shake awkwardly, as if he had no arms or legs, his sleeves and fringe would flap against the wind unburdened. The pair seemed conflicted on how to deal with the girl trying to nap in front of them, the argument continued for a long while, the man in the coat seemed determined to somehow move her, while the woman in armor seemed indifferent to whatever catastrophe would soon be spilling through the area as if it weren't their problem. Neither seemed up to the task of questioning the woman herself and only continued bickering making it that much harder to sleep.
The sound of two very unique voices fighting amongst themselves about someone trying to sleep was irritating, especially to someone who happened to be doing the same thing. It was upon that thought that the felis, blue hair getting into her eyes as she rolled herself onto all fours, growling low. Her yellowed eyes stared blatantly forward as she struggled to her feet, tag curled into a ball against her back, her body slouching even as she tried to stand at her full height. Seriously, who could stand up straight when they were tired? Her hands balled into fists, she took small steps towards the strangers that seemed to have become so enamored in their fight they didn't pay heed to her at all. "I like chaos as much as the next person, but you don't want to make chaos when one's asleep! The sun is already trying to ruin my nap, the least you can two can do is leave me with only one thing harassing it!" Her voice had a slight squawk to it. Though energetic in her speaking speed, it took too much energy to keep the growl in her throat at bay. Her eyes were squinting upon the sight of more light, though also to better study the strangers. "What do we have here anyway...A lady with a walking drumstick? I have to say, you've piqued my interest. Where do you get such a meatless body? It's like talking to a corpse...Man, I wish I could sleep like one..." Her yawn returned once more. Her lips, despite her initial anger, were curled into a comedic feline grin. Her tail unfurled, wagging a bit swiftly against the breeze, her fists no longer in tight balls, soon to be put onto her hips. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before. I can't seem to think of where though...You think I'd remember where such a chaotic mess of a body was seen. Such a shame, such a shame."
"Quiet." The pair both chastised almost simultaneously, while they complained and argued with one another, they were clearly thrusting away the two cents of the outsider-- despite them being the one they were arguing about from the first place. They both seemed to feed on their own conflict for a while until the comment about drumstick came up making them both hesitate briefly. Exchanging glances, it was clear that such a phrase was a little 'odd'. "Drumstick... Clearly I'm the lady I think--" "Then, I would be the drumstick or, no, how..." The pair suddenly sank into thought, no matter how they rationalized it, whether Sylvanas or Mortimer, how could they really be considered a drumstick? The comment about a meatless body was more understandable at least, Mortimer understood it was a reference to him. As a wraith he didn't need tangible limbs or even a body, he was ethereal like the wind, fluid like water, a form and shape that wasn't always set in stone. His most base appearance only happened to take shape as it was seen, with something more legitimate to latch onto, Mortimer gestured with a limp sleeve, with no arm within it shook briefly as if an arm filling it briefly to gesture towards the woman. "I've long lost my physical form, only able to become like this with the help of our Matriarch. That said knowing me is quite unlikely, I've not been in this world since the time of your ancestors no doubt. Tell me though, strange creature, why lay about here of all places when danger is fast approaching?" The phantom figure explained. He wasn't like Sylvanas, taken from a battlefield by Lucia purely by coincidence. Mortimer was a legend, one that Lucia had dug up after an infuriatingly difficult quest. A figure of the past, one that had a place in the game's lore, it was for that reason he was able to stand side by side with Sylvanas as an important figure among Lucia's undead.
The girl merely stared a while as the strange duo seemed to question who was the drumstick between them (to her, either could be, but the one that showed lack of any meat thanks to the cloak flying was far more of one to her). It was irritating that their argument continued even when she tried to get their attention- but, they caught notice of her before she could bite or scratch them- a thought she'd begun to play with because they looked like awfully good scratching posts. "My ancestors? I have no ancestors here," The feline scoffed. They were talking to her, but their words seemed bogus. And what were they anyway? A pair of walking corpses, yes, but what did that make them? Puppets? No, puppets wouldn't keep a conversation like that going unless the string master was around, and she saw no strings to control them. Well at least whoever they were, they were interesting. Though their questions weren't quite so informative to her. "This place has perfect warmth and shade. If the sun weren't so stupidly bright, it'd be perfect as a place to rest. Why wouldn't I want to nyap here?" She put an odd emphasis on the false meow in her words. It suited her size and shape, didn't it? "And more importantly...If it's so dangerous here, what are you bags of bones doing here? A cat has nine lives, you're not even flesh and bones- just bones! If one breaks, what would you do?" Wait, was she showing compassion? The words almost sounded it. Telling herself it was merely curiosity, she ignored the disgusting thought. Why would she have to care about them? She didn't, not at all. She just wanted to better understand their bizarre forms. "What kind of doctor does a dead person go to, anyway?"
At the creature's talk of not having ancestors the phantom gestured with a wave using his empty sleeve. It seemed to fill out as if something dropping down it, but all that came out was a black gloved hand. If one looked closely enough there was no wrist or arm still despite the filled sleeve. "Everyone has ancestors somewhere, my era may predate them a generation or two even." The phantom spoke with a dreary sigh, it's voice still carried on the wind, even the desolate sigh seemed distant despite not having a moving or working mouth. "The matriarch will be marching through here shortly for life energies, we'd intended to clear out innocent civilians--" "People." The woman cut in bluntly as if the reason they hesitated was deciding if this woman counted. "People, yes... Which leaves us a touch perplexed with how to handle this." The phantom followed up glancing at the woman again, the pair still finding it difficult to differentiate her from an intelligent beast or a very hairy felis. It was for that reason they didn't simply chase her off or ignore her, because a beast's life energy would be supplemental, but a humans would imply they deliberately disobeyed their summoner's request. Though being called flesh and bones made the woman snort. Perhaps once, Sylvanas had been a decrepit corpse, it was the first of many summoned by Lucia, naturally it had been unsightly once. Now though things were far different, she wasn't that much different from the living save for the grey skin tone and crimson gaze. The Elven soldier was as she was in her prime of life despite how cold her body was to the touch now. Mortimer was even less so, considering he had no bones to speak of, his body was like a balloon, filled with nothing, he didn't seem to be much different from floating clothes and masks, even looking closer one would only find more metal and wood but no bones. "We don't have life energy, more importantly, dying isn't much different from a nap now." "The Matriarch wouldn't drain one of her own anyway." Sylvanas added with furrowed brows.
Well, this lot's clearly not human. I thought they might be just weird costumes or something, but they're definitely from this world...Or a completely separate one. Mulling it over, the girl sighed softly, watching the glove hand that was attached to nothing. Whatever they are, they're interesting. I'd love to study one of them...Learning about this lot would bring great chaos! A small chuckle under her breath brought her back to reality, or the closest thing to it that one could get in a game. "While you may have ancestors in this world, I do not. I'm what you may call a foreign substance in the bloodstream of your world. As for your matriarch...I wouldn't know unless I saw her, but I know you lot are pretty unusual from any I've seen so far travelling here." Hell, what was a matriarch to these strangers anyway? It was highly unlikely she'd be able to tell them apart. "I see, so this 'matriarch' lives off the energy of living things...That's nothing strange though. The question is how she feeds. Saying she drains it...Now you have me curious. You know what they say about curious kittens, don't you, you strange lass and lad?" Well, she wasn't sure, but their voices felt like a female and a male...So it fit, right?
"If you argue with her, it'll just be wasted effort, she's trying to play at being mysterious as an adventurer." A voice would explain, the plants in the area would slowly begin to wither and die, like a plague was spreading sucking the moisture and nutrients from them. Unfortunately that would no doubt make the sun that much brighter without anything to block it out with. Lucia exhaled a relaxed sigh, as she continued forward. She'd expected her subordinates to push the random elements aside, but it was clear her task was a little too 'specific', she'd have to work on giving them more gave demands in the future. Considering that, she looked down to the girl with a mellow smile. "I also can't say we're all that foreign either, considering nothing's trying to evict us yet." Lucia added with a sweet chuckle. The pair both greeted Lucia respectfully, the title 'matriarch' came from Mortimer fluidly, but Sylvanas only called Lucia 'miss' with a gentler expression. "Next time, clearing away intelligent life will be enough, I don't want to hurt innocent people, if they can understand your warnings, there's no reason for them to die right?" Lucia offered to the pair who seemed either bashful or ashamed about their inability to follow through. The area became devoid of life slowly but surely, that withering plague spread further getting slower as it got farther from Lucia's body. Without attacking the other girl with it though, she maintained her mellow and welcoming outlook. "I'll be more careful next time Matriarch." "The Miss shouldn't care about little ones like this though..." "Even so, we shouldn't oppress the living, that would only lead to negative PR." "... PR?" "Antagonizing the living will provoke a negative political backlash." "... I see..." "You'll know in time Mortimer, the Miss's guidance is never wrong." The trio discussed briefly, mortimer seemed deep in thought about the political ramifications of such a thing despite Sylvanas being so outspoken about using violence when possible. Turning back to the poor drowsy woman though, Lucia smiled once more. "As for them, they're mine, it took a long while to get them up to this stage, so try not to be too bothered by their confusion." She commented knowing that Sylvanas was still new to independence, while Mortimer had been anti-social and deranged from the start. Neither of them were very well equipped for social situations.
A tall beauty, just her type- or his type- depending on whom one were to ask. Lady Briar tended to find males much easier to taunt and tease, but there was something about tall women that was quite the curiosity driver. Her inner flirt, the one behind the mask, would surely be tempted more than his kitten counterpart. "I've seen people go mad hearing about adventurers and trying to understand them, so explaining it as if I were just a normal foreigner seemed more plausible at the time." Shrugging her tiny shoulders, the felis rolled her neck lightly to get rid of any kinks, still feeling a bit stiff and tired. "So, tell me, what makes you their 'matriarch'? You look nothing like 'em." To be fair, she meant what she said- even if there was a small part of her that hoped she was wrong and that she'd cause some familial chaos in the midst of things. They'd ruined her nap to begin with, though it was started because the sun was such a pest. The least she could do was get some fun out of the situation. "Either way, might wanna feed your kids a bit more. They're skin and bones, or mostly bones. Or mostly skin. I can't even tell really." Actually, meeting them would've been far more fun offline. The medical world could use some more unusual situations to study. "And they say funny things like making it sound like you were gonna eat a napper."
Lucia only chuckled a little at the comment, giving a small shrug, her summons were already familiar with her as an adventurer, it would be strange if they were put off by it now. They had seen her log out and leave before, there was no reason for them to get cold feet with strangers now. Even back when Sylvanas was unintelligent she'd already seen and understood it. "I'm an adventurer, it's only natural my subordinates would have some measure of understanding about it." She explained with a flippant gesture, it wasn't a hard riddle to crack after all. There was no need to go into much more detail. The talk about her title though made her hum, glancing back to Mortimer, it was something unique to the Phantom Warden. Sylvanas only ever called her 'miss' before, though Lucia understood the reason for Mortimer's unique titling. "The Winter's Claw is an organization of Thieves, Assassins and Saboteurs, their spiritual leader's always been a woman; the Winter Claw's Matriarch. Mortimer is the last Commander of the Winter's Claw, in charge of their combat forces, after bringing him back, with no one to turn to for spiritual guidance, he's relied on me to justify his crimes." Lucia admitted, the Winter's Claw was a quirky organization, it needed justification for it's killings, reasons to not feel guilty or grief for a death. Without that the organization as a whole suffered, but with that they became terrifying figures that kept children awake at night with cautionary tales. "Mortimer is a very scary individual when he has a reason to kill someone." Lucia explained with a mellow laugh despite the truth in her words. Mortimer was the commander of all kinds of vicious people, he himself couldn't be weak to rise above them. "The Matriarch jests, I only do what is necessary to preserve our traditions." "That's exactly what's so scary about it..." Sylvanas seemed to share Lucia's weariness for Mortimer, the man was certainly a black stain on history despite his gentlemanly demeanor. Though the talk about eating a napper made her shake her head with a soft breath, she knew it was her fault for not properly educating them about her desires and request. No doubt if she asked them to jump, they wouldn't wait for 'how high' and would only leap shooting for their best. "Maybe if the napper was cute and cuddly-- but the cruel mischevious ones aren't for me." She'd try to tease lifting a hand to the woman's head giving her a gentle pat, the feeling of fingernails against the back of the girl's ear if she didn't fight it. "Plus they're both rather pretty if you ask me." She spoke kind words making Sylvanas pout and Mortimer cough, the pair neither wanting 'pretty' despite Sylvanas's alluring appearance.
More able to understand the situation, her curiosity had been mostly satiated. While she had a cat's instinct to want to know anything and everything (or at least, the proverbial cat's, if nothing else), there were some things that Briar had no reason to ask about. Or at least, she was sure at the beginning she'd be done with this conversation. The talk of the Winter's Claw was far too tempting, however. The description alone was delicious. Assassins, thieves and saboteurs were the very core of historical mayhem! "So the lug named like what I'd have named a pet tortoise was once dead, and part of a fascinating past." Why the turtle reference? Because what else would a cat that liked chaos think of with a name about the dead sea? It couldn't be a fluke. This was a zombie, essentially, they were talking about. Or at least, she was pretty sure that was what was going on. That the two not-so-dead late warriors were uneasy by being called 'pretty', the mischievous kit smirked, though was still catching her grip on reality, remembering that just because she had a few cat features (or a lot, as the case may be) she didn't have to react to the same stimuli. Somehow, telling herself that did nothing, though. The tickling behind her ear had the skin hidden by fur a bit red, making her more than glad she'd chosen the extra fuzz. Using their reactions to tease them just slightly, she smiled despite her inner irritation from wanting to have her nap. Curiosity always beat naps in a game of 'hunger thought and sleep', a made up version of RPS she'd made up just for moments like this. "How exactly did you come across such pretty paradigms? They're far too fascinating to just ignore, after all."
Lucia wore a mellow smile as she shrugged her shoulders in answer to Mortimer's fascinating past. It wasn't as fascinating as it was frightening, calling him an assassin might be putting it mildly, he was practically a serial killer that led a band of other serial killers that killed for enigmatic and illusory reasons. "I feel like that'd be a grave mistake, one can't change the name given to them after all, but they can determine their identity and purpose. Mortimer just happened to be one of the most feared and respected serial killers of his era. It's actually pretty disturbing to hear his stories and tales." Lucia couldn't help shaking her head. She'd gone through the trouble to collect Morgan Folke's Diary, the diary of the one who finally stopped Mortimer, and she'd read every page of that book that detailed what Mortimer had done to them during their chase. When she finally found his remains, the man's body was broken and ground beyond recognition because Morgan Folke's crew wanted to strike him once for every person he hurt. It was entirely for that reason Mortimer was a Phantom Wraith, there was just nothing left for her to raise except his soul otherwise he'd likely be stronger then Sylvanas. "Let me see... I believe the people wrote a song about me-- How did it go." Mortimer seemed to struggle to remember the lyrics of the song, as a well known figure of his era there was a cautionary tale sung that told about his nature, while there were other songs that cautioned children not to go too far into the woods because hw as out there lurking. It only took a few moments for him to remember, snapping his fingers as if it had suddenly come back to him. Bringing his hand to his palm, he remembered with a clap before he started speaking it. "He'll seek you out, Flay you alive; One wrong move and you won't survive. And they're not scared, of the royal powers; See right through them any hour. You won't feel the pain, You won't feel the strain, You'll be praying in vain, Without anyone for you to blame, They're taking it slow, feeding the flame; Shuffling the cards of our game. And just in time, in the right place; Suddenly he will play the ace. He won't soothe the pain, He won't ease the strain, You'll be crying in vain, There is nothing for him to gain, Eyes on fire, your home is ablaze; Felling any foe in his gaze. And just in time, in the right place; steadily emerging with grace." Mortimer spoke the lyrics to the best of his memory, the chorus repeating only once. Though after he finished, he turned his head back down. A small hum coming from him carried on the breeze, his metal mask unmoving and not showing any real expression. After a while he finally commented with a shake of his head. "That's how it went I think, there was a delightful children's song as well if I recall, would you perhaps like to hear that one--" "It's sick Mortimer, your style makes it difficult to keep my innards in." "Now now-- I understood Mortimer's past when I revived him. It was due to the previous Matriarch, not his own feelings." "I only do what I am told, as the Matriarch says, I have a clean conscience." Mortimer brought up the children's song only to be shot down by Sylvanas. Though he seemed willing to talk about that too, the Elven woman crossed her arms and turned away clearly displeased with the man's history. There were apparent cracks between allies, but they were all mended the moment Lucia spoke up with a smile. "As for how I came across him-- The local library was enough. The heroes who brought down the Winter's Claw came from a shattered civilization after their princes were captured were a part of an epic. Morgan Folke was a famous adventurer from that era and happened to be the captain of the ship they chartered to chase him north. In the end, of the kingdom's army, Morgan Folke was one of the only three survivors, and his diary was left behind in memory of his countrymen who didn't make it." Lucia explained with a small smile. She'd found Morgan's diary in the library by coincidence in her effort to look up tombs of enshrined warriors. At first, she thought that at the end she'd find Morgan Folke himself, but it turned out, those three survivors had long since been lost, leaving only Mortimer's remains behind at the end. "Very unfortunate they chose to chase me. Had they given up, I wouldn't have had to kill them all."
It was only more interesting and tempting as the strangers began to give a darker history to Mortimer's background. A serial killer or assassin, either way the fellow hadn't done it for mere pleasure. Could one be a serial killer if you were doing it by orders? Now that she thought about it, it might be something to read up on. It could be fun to play the part, to...But if she let that thought go on too long, it'd show on her face, so she ignored it. "I don't think it counts as serial killing if you're not getting something out of it. A serial killer kills because they get something out of it. Sometimes it's they're turned on by it, which even I find a little off, but sometimes it's just an emotional blanket they get. It's...Random." Shaking her head to get rid of her own confusion, the chaos-lover opted to return to enjoying the unusual ditty about her new 'friend'. Unfortunately, this didn't seem like it was going to be the kind of friendship Briar always wanted- but, nonetheless, she felt she'd get something from it. The song, sadly, wasn't as chaotic as the story it was telling. "So, um, you said you 'revived' them right? Does that make them similar to zombies or other undead creatures? Is there really a skill that lets you do that? Going to a library may give clues, but only my seniors in magic can make me aware of what does and doesn't exist in general. Many things are hidden by those with the misfortune to fear it."
Lucia mused on the girl's thoughts, but in the end had to shake her head. A person was a serial killer purely because they repeatedly killed for an illusory reason. Mortimer didn't really have a reason for committing the crimes he did, outside of the voice of their leader saying so. There was no money, no anything in return, a soldier killing without war-- what else could one call that? "To each their own definition then. I'm not sure how Mortimer felt, but at the very least, he doesn't lose any sleep." She commented glancing back at the phantom who only nodded back as if being asked how they felt about a dinner. The phantom seemed to have an eternal calm to him maintaining his gentlemanly exterior despite the subject being atrocities he'd committed. Hearing her Wraith and Dark Knight being compared to zombies though was profoundly insulting. Luciaonly laughed at he very thought; a zombie intelligent enough to contribute to a conversation? Impossible, even as a grave guard Lucia would have to press Sylvanas to speak rather then allowin her to speak naturally. It was like showing off diamonds to village folk asking if they could be eaten; a deep shame. "Zombies are the lowest tier of undead-- I could sneeze an army out without blinking." Lucia could only comment helplessly, to think her efforts would be compared to a common zombie she could raise with a flick of her wrist. The gall-- the nerve-- Really it was difficult to describe since Lucia understood this poor person didn't undersand the difference. "The library only showed me where to find Mortimer himself. The ability to raise him I'd had for a while, Necromancy was a skill I was given by the Goddess of Death. These sorts of skills can't really be 'found' with searching, only luck and coincidence." Lucia could only explain. After all someone else achieving her ability she felt was impossible, receiving your inheritance directly from your patron god was a monumental occasion, one that couldn't simply happen to everyone. "If you're hoping to become a necromancer, I wouldn't recommend it. The struggle is just too tough for a normal person, the hurtle is just too high, particularly if you want to be good at it." Lucia could only say with a shake of her head. Hoping to achieve such lofty ambitions required too much work, even after becoming one, she knew she didn't reach the apex, there was still a higher plateau she'd yet to reach. Shaking a hand, as if trying to stop the poor person in front of her from ruining her future, she hoped she'd give up for her own sake. "It's better to get something different, something where the apex is a little easier to reach. like weapon skills or magical masteries, summoning is just too difficult." Lucia went on to complain. A measure of pity and sympathy was all she could feel for her fellow summoners. While it was interesting, she wouldn't trade her ability for anything in the world-- It was just too hard though. At Lucia's comments, her subordinates could only heave faintly apologizing sighs. The grievance clear in their tones and body language. Lucia struggled hard for them, yet they didn't have the ability to support her in their pursuit of power. It depended on luck and chance far too much.
Laughing a bit as the woman rambled on, explaining the difficulties of her craft and why not to bother with it, the felis kept a careful eye more on the strange creatures with the adventurer than the woman herself. Briar wasn't afraid of hard work if it was to reach a means of ease in her life, but she was a bit too early to want to do something quite that extensive. Keeping it in the back of her mind, she grinned mischievously. At least she had a possible future plan now, right? "Everyone can start with masteries like that," The curious kit mumbled. "I already plan to fight with a mix of polearms and trickery thanks to phantasmia. But that alone isn't enough...Even if I can attain aid from beasts that I tame in the future- if I can find one that suits me, or three- I see no reason not to try to earn that Goddess's blessing." To her, it was more than a blessing, however. She knew little of the gods in reality and didn't care enough about them to gain further knowledge, unless it was going to be useful to her in the future. Rather than pray, Briar would rather become a god herself. "Necromancy is, after all, on the spectrum of chaos. It's hard to wish otherwise than to wish for it, don't you think?" Finding the 'matriarch' quite curious in a variety of ways, Lady Briar wanted more than just what she knew now. The woman appeared to be a fountain of awareness, but similarly, her feeding off of the world's life energy surely made her a fellow in the brotherhood (or sisterhood?) of chaos. "Before you earned this power, what else did you do? What was it you studied when you joined this world? What brought you here, of all places, to spread the joy of the mysterious?"
