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Deryl Laklan	"Diamond Devil Prince Of The Shimmering Hell.....can they just come up with a less convoluted title?" Deryl says as he walks around the forests near the riverbanks of the Hundred Kingdoms. He sighs as he keeps hearing that moniker even from the refugees for it irritates him whenever he hears of it. He walks towards something he has heard from a nearby town for there were some people that had a party hear lead by a mysterious organizer whose a pale man in a formal and gentlemanly attire with a monocle with a strange eerie glow But some villagers came across and saw that the attendants of the party are....all dead. It was a disturbing scene for he sees corpses that did not have the fearful expression of their faces, but rather a joyful bliss. The authorities of the town said the poison they drank won't kill as long as they stopped drinking yet strangely, they willingly drank to the last drop. There was no sign they were forced to drink it. "What is this deathknight even trying to achieve?" He says but sadly he is not a detective
The Mournful Chorus	The place that Deryl was led to investigate couldn't be far from here. Night has already fallen, but that shouldn't deter an Exalt from walking on. After all, if the death of those revelers at the party did leave behind a bunch of ghosts, there would be a good chance of finding them after sunfall... although there's also the very real risk of hungry ghosts awaking from the corpses. At least the full moon makes the night a bit brighter. Despite all that, Deryl soon realizes that he is not the only one with business at this place. Between the trees, he can see the river, and catches glimpes of a pale junk ship with sails in the shape of flower petals, although most of them are shortened or flattened now. The ship has dropped anchor in the deep, black water, far away from the banks. Blue and red lanterns are strung across the rafters, faintly illuminating the craft. The Hearteater observes a rowing boat smoothly gliding out of the larger vessel's shadow and approaching the bank. Several people-shaped figures jump from the prow into the shallow water and drag the boat further ashore. They all seem to be armed with cutlasses and axes - expect for a notably small figure, whose face and body are obscured by an iridescent hooded cloak that catches the moonlight in fascinating ways. A silver-furred monkey sits on their right shoulder. There seem to be about a dozen sailors in total. While a few fasten the boat's ropes to the trunks of nearby trees, others turn their gazes toward the forest, watching for any sign of movement. Daryl can hear the small figure say something - despite her sweet, calm voice, she is clearly the one in charge, giving an order to the others: "The three of you guard the boat. The others, with me. It shouldn't be far. Keep an eye out for hungry ghosts... or anything that moves, really. But don't kill anything unless I say so."
Deryl Laklan	Deryl tightens the grip of his blade of adamant but there doesn't seem to be aggression at first. The very presence of the woman disquiets him for reasons yet unknown. They don't seem to be related to the gentleman wearing a monocle with a spectral glow. "Who goes there? I have been hired by the town to deal with the one responsible for the deaths of these celebrants" The Abyssal can see the man's eyes glow with the touch of the Wyld as his eyes resembled that of snakes and looks like it's made of diamonds. Besides the town's authorities, the mercenary is escorted by soldiers yet there is something off about them as if they lack emotion. "If you simply chose to dock here, I suggest you find a different port since there is dangerous man on the loose here" Even if he is suspicious about the new arrivals, he gives them a warning on whoever caused these mysterious suicides. However as he looks closely, he realizes that the crew are all dead save the captain. He then points his adamant daiklave towards the crew, while his soldiers follow in defensive stance yet strangely, they all act as if a part of a hive. "Explain yourself why your crew are all undead miss, even that monkey of yours. My eyes cannot lie for I can see they do not have heat in their bodies" His crystalline ophidian eyes glare at this mysterious captain and it gives off a baleful shine
The Mournful Chorus	Since neither Deryl nor his soldiers are trying to stay out of sight, the dead guards notice their presence almost immediately, right before the Hearteater calls out to the newcomers. Their reaction is swift: Five move into a protective half-circle around the hooded woman, ready to shield her with their very bodies, should any projectile fly into her direction. The remaining seven form a line in front of said circle. A symphony of steel ensures as they all draw their weapons - not only those few that Deryl could spot before: Some of them ready throwing knifes, shuriken, or other, smaller implements. They bare their teeth and snarl in anticipation. These undead aren't mere sailors... they're killers, ready and itching for bloodshed. Even the monkey shows its teeth and hisses balefully at the opposing force. At least until the voice of their leader cuts through the sound of weapons being drawn on both sides. She would have certainly been able to get a good look at Deryl and his strangely synchronized soldiers before her own guards moved in front of her. "I'm not in the mood for a random squabble. Tell your people to stand down, stranger, and I will do the same." While her first words are spoken with authority, her voice smoothly shifts to a calm, diplomatic, even courteous tone. "I have no quarrel with the living. Why don't we calm down and talk this over? We're not animals, after all. You seem quick to assume that I mean you harm, yet I don't even know you."
Deryl Laklan	"You still better explain what you are and why you have undead with you as companions" Before he could even stop pointing his blade at her, the rest of his men stand down as if they know he stops his aggression for now. "Im from Thorns so you know why my reaction is like that"
The Mournful Chorus	There's an awkward shuffling of boots on muddy ground as the dozen dead guards all of a sudden realize they're not hungering for a fight after all. Blades are lowered, but not yet tucked away. The cloaked one orders two of the big people shielding her to make way, then takes a few slow, but deliberate steps towards Deryl. In the silence following his words, she seems to process what he just revealed to her. "Interesting", she finally says. "That would explain your hostility, yes." Her demeanor is still calm and peaceful, and it seems the mere sound of her voice is enough to stifle the aggression around her. "You mentioned you were hired by villagers to investigate the deaths of celebrants. That would mean we're both bound for a similar purpose... unless there has been more than one mass death at a grand party in this area lately." Deryl can't see much of her eyes in the shadow of her hood, but he does see her lips, decorated by a single line of white paint running down vertically across them, form an amiable smile. "I am envoy to the dead, and I speak for them. The ancestors of the recently deceased are worried about their descendant's souls. I have been called upon to check on them, and find out what befell them. These..." she gestures at the undead retinue, "...are some of the finest warriors among them, possessing corpses, so that they can protect me and aid me on this mission."
Deryl Laklan	Before Thorns, Deryl did hear about cultures that revere the dead to protect them. Although he is still suspicious, he does not see them as a threat for now. "So, they reacted to the deaths that happened here. The party was started by a gentleman with a suit and a monocle that shines with the gleam of ectoplasm. I suspect him to be a deathknight of the Mask Of Winters, the tyrant that now holds my fallen city. He disappeared but I expect he will bring death somewhere again." He then introduces himself to this mysterious woman with questionable companions. "I am Deryl Laklan, wyld touched uhhh what was it called again? Ah yes exigent of uhm diamonds. I am a mercenary who is taking jobs so I can provide to the refugees in my care." He finds such excuse flimsy but it's better than nothing "And what do you mean they are worried about their descendants souls? Shouldn't their souls meet with their fellow deceased relatives?" He says unaware of what happened to the souls of the dead celebrants.
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus slowly cocks her head as he introduces himself. Her dark gaze flits from his glowing, adamantine eyes to the daiklave, then over to his soldiers with their strangely detached, emotionless mien. What she thinks of all this, and how much she believes... well, the answer to that remains hidden in her inscrutable features, further obscured by her smile and the hood's shadow. "Exigents of Diamonds", she repeats. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." The so-called envoy bows, with one hand on the clasp of her cloak, where a small, obsidian stone, shaped like a perfect sphere, has been worked into the delicate scale-like material that the garment seems to be made from. She does not give a name in return, but sets to answer his question instead: "That depends on the cause of their deaths, and the whims of the Underworld. The rules that gouvern ghosts are fickle. But if death occurs on such a scale, the probability of at least some of the deceased finding their way to the Sunless Realm is high enough." Her guards watch warily as she begins to walk in a half-circle in front of Deryl and his soldiers. "The ancestor ghosts who petitioned me for aid didn't mention a man with a monocle, but that doesn't surprise me. They were only able to hear about the incident from the prayers of their descendants. If he is indeed a deathknight, he might be responsible for whatever happend to the victim's souls. Are you here for them... or for him?" With that, she falls silent and looks at Deryl expectantly.
Deryl Laklan	"For them and for him? Both. The village had loved ones that were in this party and they felt sorrow like me when Thorns fell as my loved ones were slain when the rotten titan appeared. I even had to cremate my mother during the siege even if I wished for a proper burial, but I do not want her corpse to be defiled by necromantic magics. Whatever this chosen of death is currently planning, I must stop it or another tragedy shall happen even if it's not as massive as Thorns. Even the smallest suffering can bring great sorrow" He comments as his words are poisoned with grudges against the champions of death. "If their souls are gone and the man with the monocle has something to do with it. I suspect there is a sinister purpose for it all. "From what I know from the village's sheriff, they drank a poison that should be lethal if in large quantities. There is also no sign they were forced to drink it as they seem to have a time of their life here. There is also something odd since look at the expression of the corpses." The bodies have a satisfied expression, not exactly in a good looking way. Some of them have uncanny smiles. "From the the sheriff told me, the poison should be moderately painful so these corpses should have at least flinched in pain
The Mournful Chorus	With the immediate threat of conflict thwarthed for now, the still unnamed envoy strolls over to one of the corpses, accompanied by a few of her guards and the monkey, who hops from her shoulder, then follows in her footsteps, loudly snuffling at the air. Several more of the undead spread out and keep an eye out for trouble - from Deryl, his soldiers, or anyone else, living or dead. Chorus examines several more of the corpses by dropping into a crouch next to them. Their uncanny expressions don't seem to trouble her at all. Soon, she finds one of them, a middle-aged woman who might have been someone's mother, still clutching a goblet with a bit of liquid left in it. Gingerly, the envoy picks the container up, careful to not touch the poison, and sniffs it. "Must have been quite the revel", she muses, gazing into the distance, where even more corpses lie strewn across the ground between the trees, then stands and walks over to Deryl to see if he has found anything of interest. "Imagine partying so hard that you guzzle down poison, and still die with a smile on your face. There are better deaths, but also far worse ones."
Deryl Laklan	As the abyssal grabs the goblet, she can see there are symbols in a language she doesn't recognize yet but its certain it doesn't belong to the East nor the South. Strangely, the goblets are finely made and yet the man in the monocle just left them there for some reason. Whether he was in a hurry or is it a sign for something regarding whatever he is doing? "I suspect these people were tricked or enticed to do so. I remember exalted having powers such as that. Sadly I'm not a detective so that's just my thoughts" Then in the ground, the Abyssal spots a corpse of what seems to be a scholarly man holding what seems to be a book. It's author is unknown but the title is in Riverspeak which is "The Joyful Mantra That Transcends Sadness". The book is half opened for it's in the opening pages and the beginning line is. "Let yourself go so that you may find true bliss"
The Mournful Chorus	The Moonshadow squints at the symbols. Not being the scholarly type, she gives up soon, shrugging, but brings the vessel with her nonetheless. On her way over to the other Exalt, she suddenly slows to a stop as her searching eyes catch a glimpse of some large, rectangular object in the hands of a dead man. Finally, something she can read! She skims the first few lines, the corners of her mouth curving up into a delighted smile (which she takes care to not let Deryl see). After a few moments, she finally continues on her way to him and points out both the symbols on the goblet and the book to him. "He did something to them, after all. Maybe there was some kind of magic involved... or maybe he was just a charming fellow spreading the good word of his cult." She chuckles. "See this?"
Deryl Laklan	As she skimmed through the book, it's a self help one and that with deals with philosophy on how to live life. Yet she can feels there is another message the book is trying to convey to the reader, although it requires a deeper look. "Eugh, maybe he's doing this for some sorcerous reason yet this is only a part of the puzzle on what it is. I'm not exactly talented in magic stuff anyway" Deryl comments but turns towards the bodies and then turns his attention to the mysterious woman "How will the ancestors of this town feel about the bodies of their descendents being burned with respect? I know this maybe offensive but I hope no necromancers may try to pervert the corpses for their own uses such as them being used for hordes of zombies. I'll even get a priest from the town to perform funerary rites" He asks the deathly woman for feedback on what to do with the corpses of the deceased townsfolk. "You are a speaker for the dead right?"
The Mournful Chorus	At first, the envoy remains silent, contemplative. She slowly strokes her chin and continues to glare at the frustratingly codified text for a good minute - as if accusing stares would be enough to coax the writing into revealing its hidden meaning to her. Of course, nothing like that happens, and eventually, she huffs and peeks up at Deryl from the shadow of her hood. "That I am", she confirms. "And I would be more worried about hungry ghosts than about a hypothetical necromancer stumbling upon a treasure trove of corpses." While she says this, she gestures towards one of the nearby corpses, the dead person's rictus grin illuminated by moonlight. "In any case, they demand their descendants be given proper, respectful rights, and their due in grave goods." One of the possessed corpses acting as her protector, a tall, thin man draped in heavy white funeral linen, nods in approval, adding to her words with a harsh, gravely tone: "The Hallowed Voice speaks for us, and she speaks true." All around them, more undead nod and mutter in agreement. Meanwhile, the monkey has found some leftovers on a nearby table. Despite it being undeniably dead, it still busies itself with stuffing black, ripe grapes into its mouth. "Didn't their people hire you to investigate anyway, Chosen of Diamonds?", the envoy asks Deryl with a pleased smile. "Send them a message, so that their funerists can get to work. Burning the bodies won't please the ancestors."
Deryl Laklan	"Admittedly I was mostly hired to chase after the man responsible for this rather than investigating this." Deryl is not a private eye but more of a mercenary leader regarding his services. Even if he wishes their corpses will be cremated, he follows the suggestion of the mysterious lady. "Fine, I'll have me, the authorities here and my men help with the burial of the bodies. I will also tell one of the sheriff's men to send a message to a local funerists" He says as he gives a quick message to one of the men acting as the enforcers of the law here as he nods and hurries. "Sorry if my suggestion is disfavorable to the ancestors of the town. My experience in Thorns didn't exactly help with it" He says with a grim tone as he remembers the fall of the once glorious city that now drowns in death. "I myself wished I gave my loved ones and friends a proper burial when Thorns was under siege. Some of the survivors had to burn the bodies"
Mahendru Divya	Two groups of strangers investigating a group of corpses. One group seemingly undead already. The other...strange. An Adamant Daiklave wielded by one formerly of Thorns, and an envoy of the dead. Yet actions often spoke truer than words, and the actions thus far had matched the words exchanged. These people were trying to get to the bottom of what had happened here. Just like the Sidereal who presently sat in the guise of a crow nearby. Time to tip her hand and join this little party. One of the many raitons and crows slowly assembling in the nearby trees abruptly hopped out of her tree and winged her way to the ground. A moment later, the crow's outline briefly flickered emerald and suddenly a woman stood there. No transformation effect, no fluttering of feathers. It's like looking across the desert at what looks like water, only to discover upon getting closer that it's a trick of the eyes. She's somehow always was the woman, until she'd released the trick of the eyes she'd been hiding behind. Wearing simple tan traveling robes, the brown-skinned woman held up both hands in the universally 'I mean no harm' gesture. "Well, well, quite the party here, isn't it. Glad I missed it. Although disappointed I couldn't stop it. Mind a little help from another stranger?"
The Mournful Chorus	The Mournful Chorus says, "Welcome, welcome." A brief bow follows. "Indeed, one could say they were ~dying~ to see this party through. Help is always appreciated in the face of such unwholesome deeds. But how did you know?""
The Mournful Chorus	"Yes, very tragic", is the envoy's comment on Deryl's lament concerning Thorns. "Sometimes, the best we can do is all we've got, right?" It seems like she wants to say more, but before she can continue, the crow happens. The sudden approach of a crow doesn't immediately rouse the undead guards, only drawing a few startled stares. However, when that corvid turns out to have been a woman all the time, the mood plummets. Several shouts of alarm pierce the night, some of them in strangely archaic Riverspeak. Even the monkey picks up a rotting, worm-laden apple and looks poised to throw it at the apparition. One of the first to act is the tall, slender man in funery veils. "Protect the Hallowed Voice!", he rasps, voice raised in command. But before he can fully draw his twin short swords, the envoy reaches out, gently touching his elbow and causing him to stop mid-movement. She doesn't even look at him - her eyes are already busy scrutinizing the not-crow woman. "Word has certainly traveled fast", she says in a voice quiet enough that the newcomer might not even hear her, instead addressing Deryl and flashing him an amused smile. "It's getting a bit ~crow~ded here. Shall we see what kind of help this one has to offer?" Without waiting for his approval, the hooded figure walks toward the uninvited woman.Three of the walking dead immediately follow and flank her. On the way over, she manages to suppress her grin of excitement and turn it into a respectful, but haughty smile, as befits a hallowed envoy between the living and the dead.
Deryl Laklan	Deryl then sees another stranger that appeared out of nowhere and sighed. "Oh great, what's next? A Tyrant lizard that will comes out of nowhere?" He says with amusement once he sees another stranger that has inserted themselves here. For now, he doesn't command for his men to be in the defensive unlike the last time as this new visitor doesn't look like she's causing trouble. "I see you are interested in looking for the perpetrator who started this party to die for as well." As his crystalline daiklave shines thanks to the light of the moon and stars, there is a glyph written in Old Realm across the fuller of the adamant blade that means "Malevolent Shimmer". Meanwhile, something seems off regarding the mercenary's men. "I'm the exigent of diamonds although I guess you already knew that as you were listening. I wish I could have found the man already but by the gods of creation, he's illusive"
Mahendru Divya	The reception wasn't quite as friendly as she might have hoped for, but it was considerably more friendly than she might have imagined. The woman smiles and says "These people weren't supposed to die." Her words hang in the air for a moment as her face becomes a bit less cheery and quite a bit more serious. "They were meant to go on living. There are children that should have been born from several here, some time in the future, who now won't ever be. This disaster shouldn't have happened. I'm here to make sure it doesn't happen again." She turns briefly from the envoy to consider the Exigent for a moment, then waves a hand at their respective minions. "I have a partner I'd like to bring in, but he's somewhat more alarming than I am. Do you think your people can hold themselves back from battle long enough for him to sniff around?"
The Mournful Chorus	The corners of the envoy's mouth perk up. "Ominous", is her verdict, then she tilts her head slightly to the side, studying the woman's attire, body language, and posture from a much more favorable position now. "I think my people can manage to not hurl their blades at the next thing that moves. What about yours, Deryl Laklan?" As she says this, she peeks at one of the living soldiers and watches their reaction. Whatever is going to happen next - if that "partner" whose arrival the stranger has announced is indeed alarming, one would expect Deryl's people to react in ~some~ way, right? "Bring in your partner, then. Unless the Exigent has objections, of course." After a brief pause, she turns her gaze at the woman again. "Who exactly are you?"
Deryl Laklan	Deryl wonders about the words of this new stranger on how they were not supposed to die. "How do you know they aren't fated to die? but admittedly it's tragic since I know life withers away eventually, but it should be lived to the fullest" He says regarding the stranger's cryptic words only for them to mention something about a partner. "What is so....alarming about this partner of yours that I should be afraid? And you can bring them in" Strangely, all of his men do not seem to be disturbed by whatever implications this partner may have, as if they share the same mood as their leader. "I should introduce myself but I'm Deryl Laklan or what the deathknights of Thorns call me the Diamond Devil Prince. Admittedly that title is too long for me" He says to the new stranger yet wonders what she calls herself. "And uhh do you have a name....also you" He then points to the speaker of the dead.
Mahendru Divya	"I have many names," the woman admitted, smiling with false gaiety (because there were dead people here and there's nothing fun or amusing about any of this). "But Inauspicious Icons is going to call me Divya so you might as well call me Divya too. One moment." She turned to her right and spoke into the air. "Inauspicious Icons, under the fifth of the Articles of the Divine Requirements in the Adjudication of Criminal Offenses, Section 17 Paragraph 132, you are ordered and obliged to present yourself to assist in the investigation of these deaths under my field command." Her tone was firm, imperious, commanding and plainly expecting no dissent. Her words hung in the air for a long moment. At the end of that moment, a great beast suddenly flashed into existence beside her in a burst of golden light. Seemingly wrought of green jade, the spirit was equal parts mastiff and lion and stood six feet high at the shoulder, with his head looming yet further above. The Lion Dog looked from the Envoy's party to the Exigent's party before swinging his great head back to Divya. "Of course I call you Divya," he said in an unnaturally deep booming voice. "What else would I call you?" "Literally any other name I give." "But other names aren't your name." His expression wore a look of consternation. She sighed and looked towards the other two Exalts with an expression of long-suffering as she said "You see what I have to put up with? Anyway, he's got a great nose. Hopefully he can pick up a trail for us."
Deryl Laklan	If Deryl was drinking something, he would certainly spit it out once he sees a divine spirit in front of them. Strangely enough, he and his me share the same reaction as if they already knew how he will react. The authorities of the town at least have varying reactions "THAT'S your partner? What sort of spirit is he?" He's not exactly the type to know the sort of spirits out there. And he thought he was exaggerating when mentioning that a Tyrant lizard will come out of nowhere. Meanwhile the abyssal can feel that his men have an intense loyalty to him although it is not known why. "So he can track down the one who did this?" He says with an unsure tone as most of his knowledge about spirits is basic as any other person in Creation.
The Mournful Chorus	The Mournful Chorus says, "Now ~this~... this I didn't expect", she grins. "With a nose as big as I'm tall, he might indeed help us sniff out the one who got this party started.""
The Mournful Chorus	When Deryl asked if she had a name, the envoy's answer was simple, short, and straight to the point: "No, I don't." Her eyes then drifted from Deryl over to rest on the other stranger, and she listens attentively to everything that comes out of her mouth (just as she did with Deryl's words earlier). In reaction to the extremely formal - and extremly weird - summoning, she gestured for the dozen flesh-wearing ghosts to step back from Divya. Most of them crowded around her, now tense and alert. The spirit's appearance rouses the undead into agitated chatter. Some of them stare at the massive creature in awe, while others mutter curses, grip amulets of bone and barnacle, or reflexively reach for their weapons. But they don't disobey and keep their peace, although it's clear that they remain on edge. Somewhere in the background, the monkey spits out a mouthful of worms and rotten apple meat, utters a high-pitched squeal, pivots off the table, and skitters towards its mistress, hiding below the rim of her cloak. All of that is enough to make the envoy giggle in a very unhallowed manner. She quickly composes herself, steps forward with dignity, and greets the spirit with a deep bow, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that a single bite or claw swipe could extinguish her in an instant.
Mahendru Divya	The reaction of the Exigent and then the Envoy's crew were about what she expected. Divya smirked slightly at the giggle, though. "Inauspicious Icons is a Lion-Dog. In Creation, his kind are mostly seen, or not seen, guarding ancient ruins and lost treasures. Like this gentleman here. When we first met, he was still guarding the bedroom of the Grand High Conservator of the Usufri Imperium as he had for the last two thousand years. ...Of course, that bedroom was basically a bunch of tumbled stone in a forest in the middle of absolute nowhere because the Usufri Imperium fell long before the Great Contagion. We ended up talking and hit it off so when he finally was released from his duty, he decided to tag along with me whenever I need him." "Accurate," Inauspicious Icons said as he began to pace the morbid scene, sniffing at the bodies and the poison remnants and all of the other acoutrements present. "If misleading." "I'm obliged to be misleading, dear," Divya said with another sigh of long suffering. "I'm not." "Good, you'd be terrible at it." With a hurmph sound, the Lion Dog took his gravely offended dignity and proceeded to snuffle the ground in a fashion that was entirely dog-like.
Deryl Laklan	The lion dog's senses in the crime scene would led them to something that was overlooked here. The bodies are all aligned in a certain manner that seems ritualistic yet at the same time shroud the fact that their deaths are all for an occult reason. If there was a line written in the ground that connects the bodies together, it would form a symbol in Old Realm meaning "They shall indulge themselves in ignorance and decadence for they know death for all is coming. Their final sighs of joy shall unlock the keys to the lock of obsession that shall open to paradise" It is not known whether this was intentionally hidden but it's possible its his "signature" like how depraved serial killers leave marks and hints in the crime scene. The liondog then senses whoever did this was heading north. If the direction was to be followed, it would be in a minor city state named Iron Simhata known for their artisanal work for metallic materials The liondog can also sense that they are still there. Who knows what sort of tragedies they are orchestrating in that city? It might be bigger than the last one.