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The Mournful Chorus	The Bone Lanterns district houses many of Stygia's most pestigious teahouses, theatres, gambling dens, brothels, and countless other establishments where ghosts can indulge their passions and vices. Easily reachable by gondola through the city's network of canals, the Prancing Tiger sits near the district's centre - a looming pagoda, with rust-colored walls, the cracked shingles on its layered roofs an impossibly vivid teal. A giant tiger's yawning maw, pointed teeth made from stained brass, threatens to swallow the wide wooden entrance doors. Inside, guest step into a wide atrium, cutting through all seven stories, each of which offers a different brand of entertainment. Countless lanterns dangle on clinking black chains from the roof beams high above. While a multitude of ghosts drink, converse, and perform on the first five floors, the sixth and seventh have been cleared out for a "private event" - the meeting that you have decided to attend.
Blackest Barlow	Blackest Barlow has never completely trusted others of his kind. He sits in a room, pondering the invitation with curiousity and suspicion. On one hand, its unlikely this is just a meeting for another deathknight to make some friends. One the other hand, he has little experience or contacts in the Scavenger Lands as a whole and making allies could be beneficial. His hands slowly soak blood into the invitation. A pair of armed ghosts step off of a gondola and into the Prancing Tiger. They carefully unload a large stone sarcophagus and one of the gives a brief knock on the lid. A moment later, it slides off and Blackest Barlow climbs out followed by two more warghosts. He considers the scene around him before looking to his soldiers and pointing to one of the bars on a lower floor. "Enjoy, but keep an eye out." He wipes the blood from his hands with a cloth, lifts the stone sarcophagus onto his back, and begins the slow climb to the seventh floor, his boots leaving bloody prints every couple of steps. By the time he reaches the top, his gauntlets have slowly begun dripping blood again.
Grave Saint	Bleeding Higanbana or in reality, Grave Saint Entombed In Solemn Gardens Of Crimson Higanbanas has been mostly absent regarding the affairs in the Scavenger Lands....until now for her master told her to go through a pilgrimage to his lair in order to learn a particularly potent art. She has learned somethings from him regarding this style of battle, as it embodies certain aspects of the universe but this particular style represents the inevitability of death itself. Of course besides teaching her this dreadful martial art, she was also informed of a class of chosen that may covet it and their nature unnerved her as they can be anyone she met. Before she arrives at the Prancing Tiger, she looks around for the deathknight hasn't travelled to the Underworld that much. As Grave arrives in the floor used for this private meeting, she is dressed in her usual kimono of black with patterns of the red flower that signifies death. She simply mutters a hymn while waiting for other fellow harbingers of the end.
The Mournful Chorus	Both Grave Saint and Blackest Barlow are reverently greeted at the entrance by the establishment's staff - whose members are easy to identify, since they all wear bone-white masks fashioned in the likeness of snarling tigers, and rust-red robes. A staff member escorts each of the deathknights upstairs as they arrive. The attendants certainly have... opinions about the bloody mess left by the soulsteel-clad warrior, but no one dares to voice any complaint within hearing range of him. Grave Saint, on the other hand, receives several admiring glances for her outfit. A wide dark hall takes up the entire top floor, shaped in a half-circle around the atrium like all the others. Paper dividers, displaying art of white tigers on the prowl, make the huge space a little easier to bear. In the center, a half-circle of large divans has been arranged around a low diner table, mimicking the hall's shape. Paper lanterns drench the arrangement in vermillion twilight. Every inch of floor is covered either by black wooden tiles, or by lavish carpets. The Mournful Chorus of Shattered Heavens rises from one of the divans to greet her guests with a radiant smile. She is wearing a silken sari, dominated by the colors teal and purple, and a shawl made of what appears to iridescent leather around her waist. Golden jewelry adorns her earlobes, wrists, and neck. A silver-furred monkey perches on the back rest of the divan behind her. "Grave Saint Entombed In Solemn Gardens of Crimson Higanbanas... and Blackest Barlow! It's a pleasure to meet you both. Please, sit - make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, the staff will gladly attend to you. Refreshments and food are on the house." Indeed, there are a few staff members hovering in the room, keeping a respectful distance to the deathknights. The guests can also notice a different sort of masked ghosts standing guard at the stairwell. They are armed with blades and clearly here to keep an eye on the proceedings.
Grave Saint	Although she is familiar with Chorus, Higanbana looks at the Dusk caste with them here. "Sorry if I wasn't there to greet you in Great Forks servant of the Heron, I had to go to my Deathlord's tabernacle for he has enlightened me with a martial art that embodies Oblivion itself. It's admittedly more tedious to learn it due to it's complex nature." She says to Chorus regarding her absence in the affairs of the Scavenger Lands then she looks around with a hint of paranoia. "I see there are only three of us here and this supposed "deathknight of the Mistress Of The Violet Reckoning" is a no show. I expected at least an envoy from the Masks but I guess they are too busy with their own affairs. From my master, I learned of a new enemy from him. Some sort of hidden chosen unlike the silver ones that change shape. They are subtle and wield power of the stars which makes them dangerous in my eyes"
Blackest Barlow	Placing the stone sarcophagus on the ground beside one of the divans, Blackest Barlow is pleasantly surprised to find the divan doesn't immediately crumple under his weight when he sits on it. He carefully leans forward on it, keeping his bloodied gauntlets and boots off of the divan. He motions to one of the attendants carrying tea and Barlow bows his head after taking a cup. "Thank you." He takes a long sip, essentially pouring the liquid into the holes in his helmet. He finally looks at his host, "And thank you for having me." Blackest Barlow sets the cup down on the table, the handle stained red. "I've heard a little of you, Mournful Chorus. Rumors are you are quite skilled." His head turns slightly to look towards Grave Saint, his pyreflame eyes examining the deathknight. "The world is full of dangers, though I've heard nothing of these threats. My liege tends to care little for Creation's champions, so long as they keep out of the Underworld. Unfortunately, this has left some of us under him with precious little... Experience."
The Mournful Chorus	Barlow can comfortably drip blood on the wooden floor - someone has seen fit to avoid placing any carpets beneath the divans. Grave Saint also has no trouble finding a seat, as hard or soft as she likes. On the table, the deathknights find an assortment of hors d'oeuvre, delicacies from across the Underworld placed in wooden bowls, and sets of chopsticks for picking up the small morsels. Chorus sits with them, crossing her legs, and reaches out to take a sip from her own cup. A dark red liquid sloshes within. Cubes of ice bob on the surface. She casts a long, measured look at both of her guests. "Indeed. You two were the only ones who answered to my summons." Despite the disappointing outcome, she keeps smiling. "All terribly busy with their own affairs, or simply not interested." A cheerful shrug. "It is how it is. In any case, I'm curious to hear about this new enemy you've discovered." Then, she nods at Blackest Barlow. "Just Chorus is fine. Most of the rumors are completely untrue - I know, because I've planted them myself." She flashes him a wide grin, leaning back, then returns to an amiable smile. "Here is the truth: My liege, the Black Heron, values me as a diplomat, envoy, and arbiter. These are my official duties. I know a bit about Grave Saint's exploits, but since you don't appear to have met each other... maybe introductions are in order first?"
Grave Saint	"About this new enemy, I remember my master tells me they are the heralds of fate and the stars itself called the Sidereals. They have eyes in Creation and have many guises for fate itself clouds their existence from what I remember from his sermon. However as we are chosen of death, we are anathema to destiny itself and we can remember them, for my Deathlord mentions that mortals and even other chosen forget them as if they do not exist" She sips her tea and then continues to speak more about what the Bishop has told her. "Even writing information about them in paper is affected as it will fade away. Knowledge about them can be told orally however." The Midnight says regarding these strange chosen. "The art I learned from the Bishop is what they excel in for they have knowledge in such celestial power" Then she realizes she forgot to introduce herself to the other deathknight. "Ah where are my manners, I am Grave Saint Entombed In Solemn Gardens Of Crimson Higanbanas but it's Bleeding Higanbana for short. I am a priestess in Great Forks that leads a convent in understanding the inevitability of death. Most people think I am a Wood Aspect, I guess my life before my second breath paid off"
Blackest Barlow	Blackest Barlow bows his head to Chorus, "Then just Barlow shall do for me. If the Heron's eye for talent is even half as good as what I've heard, then the others are fools for not taking the time to consider your invitation." He grabs a pair of chopsticks and slowly, but surely gets a few pieces of food into the mouth hidden under his helmet. Barlow then turns and bows his head towards his fellow guest, "A pleasure, Bleeding Higanbana. I am Blackest Barlow, a commander of the Legion Sanguinary and servant of The First and Forsaken Lion. Until recently, its been my responsibility to attend to the training my liege's troops and deal with the occasional skirmish. I'm not much of a religious man myself, but I understand the importance of faith and dedication to a cause."
The Mournful Chorus	When Grave Saint begins to recount what she has learned from her liege, Chorus raises an eyebrow and leans forward, slowly putting down her cup. Without taking her eyes off the Midnight, she reaches for her chopsticks, gingerly picking up a tiny piece of baklava dripping with green griefbee honey. After popping it into her mouth, she closes her eyes for a moment, to better savor the honey's bittersweet taste of longing and regret. The topic at hand has banished her smile; instead, she looks thoughtful. But she doesn't speak until Barlow has made his introductions, smirking briefly at the Dusk's assessment of her ability, but only answers with a humble bow of the head. "Now that we all have a good idea of whose company we're enjoying tonight... let's focus on the information Bleeding Higanbana has graciously shared with us." The Moonshadow's dark eyes leave Barlow, drifting over to the Bishop's faithful. "I can't say I've never heard about those Chosen of the Stars at all, but never in such detail. My liege only saw fit to mention them briefly, warning me to steer clear of them. You come equipped with much better knowledge, and you seem quite eager to share... what's the occasion? Is one of them giving you trouble over in Great Forks?"
Grave Saint	"So far none at all but from what I learned from his sermon, it seems I must be careful in interacting even with mortals of all things. I have been considering learning necromancy from my liege in order to create anti-scry barriers in my underground manse back in Great Forks. Although my learnings of this art, the Albicant Sepulcher Of Extinction Style has made me too preoccupied in initiating into the bleak magics of the Underworld...but I may do so when I have the time" She is more of a preacher and a martial artist after all, then she turns at Chorus with curiosity. "In my absence, did you experience anything in the Scavenger Lands while I was away? I wish I can catch up with whatever is going on with that tournament in Great Forks. I performed during a fight once and lots of people remembered my song" Higanbana then shifts to Barlow. "Ah a general of the Lion, I'm not a strategist myself but I view fellow chosen of death with respect no matter their talents are as they are useful one way or another" She then wonders about a certain deathknight who isn't here. "Out of curiosity, but does the title "Mistress Of The Violet Reckoning" mean anything to you? I meet this scholar deathknight that claims that's his liege. I suspect this master of his is a ghost pretending to be a deathlord."
Blackest Barlow	Thinking on what Grave Saint just said, Blackest Barlow absent-mindedly rubs his chin (or where it would be if he wasn't wearing a helmet). "Concerning information. I hadn't thought about being careful in my interactions with mortals, either. It would certainly make my tasks more difficult." He carefully takes another sip of his tea. "Perhaps I should have invested more time into my necromantic studies. I've only just scratched the surface of Necromancy myself." While his face is hidden, Barlow's confusion at the title is obvious. "I've never heard of such a title. Though, there are plenty of deathlords who change titles and monikers as often as one changes clothes. Perhaps this scholar chose that title to share to keep their liege's identity hidden? Or perhaps it is a pretender, as you say... Was there anything else you could discern about this deathknight?"
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus doesn't show particular enthusiasm at either the necromantic or the martial arts, but the topic of a mysterious deathknight piques her interest. She cocks her head questioningly, assessing the Midnight with intense curiosity, and leans back again. Compared to Barlow's bulk, she appears tiny, the divan a bit too large for her. While her attention shifts to the Lion's deathknight, her pet monkey hops from the back rest to her shoulder, and she absentmindedly strokes his fur, seemingly ignoring the animal's longing stare at the assembled delicacies on the table. "Concerning information indeed... I, too, have yet to hear of a Deathlord who claims that sobriquet. But the sunless realm is vast, and although my ship has traveled the black waters far and wide, it's still going to take me decades, if not centuries, to see it all." Clearly, she is also interested in the answer to Barlow's question, for she sits up a bit straighter now, with the monkey clambering to hold tight, and looks attentively at Grave Saint.
Grave Saint	"I remember this deathknight goes by the name of Perfect Question, a scholar from Chiarascuro. Supposedly he keeps the nature of his deathlord hidden as she prefers it that way" She recalls what she know about the enigmatic "deathknight" that claims to obey a mysterious deathlord. "He is perceptive and knowledgeable that he managed to know about the Deathlords. But I invited him to come to my manse in some time as I plan to exploit it as an opportunity to learn about her mistress. If he is still adamant in not revealing it, I may feed him some false information but I don't know what or if it will work. He has yet to arrive in my doorstep" She wonders if he will bite her bait somehow. "I wonder if he himself is a pretender in being a deathknight but I cannot confirm nor deny it. If he is....how would he know even scant knowledge about the deathlords? Only the Mask Of Winters is well known."
Blackest Barlow	"Interesting. I'd advise caution with anyone who seeks information but shares little themselves." Blackest Barlow sighs a bit and shrugs, "What concerns me most is why one would hide their liege yet openly admit to being a Chosen of Death in the first place. But perhaps they are merely cautious or under orders." He motions for a refill of his tea, bowing his head politely again as the hot beverage is poured into his cup again. "This has been interesting information to hear, both on this strange deathknight and these... heralds of fate. But surely we weren't both invited here just for this sharing of information. I can see sharing amongst the two of you, since you seem to be acquainted with each other, but I can't imagine you'd invite a servant of The Lion for tea and some friendly advice." He takes another long draw on the tea. "Refreshing as it may be."
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus grins hungrily at Grave Saint, showing sharp teeth, then tucks that grin away again and reaches for her drink. "If you can, let me know before you receive him as your visitor. I would love to meet this Perfect Question myself. Out of curiosity... did he show you any proof of his claims? His Caste Mark, for instance? There might well be spies of the living among us, even here in the Underworld, after the Mask has practically flashed a giant sign with 'DEATHKNIGHTS ARE TOTALLY A THING' written in bold bloody letters into the living nation's faces." When she bends forward to pick up her cup, the monkey attempts to snatch one of the morsels from a nearby bowl - only to receive a slap on its black wrist for its trouble. The animal screeches in dismay and retreats to its original perch on the back rest, now sulking with its back turned towards the deathknights. The Moonshadow sniffs in response to Barlow's comment and gives a nonchalant shrug. "We're not ~that~ well acquainted. I've only met her once. And I believe my invitation mentioned the possibility of an alliance. Our lieges..." She points at the Dusk Caste with her cup. "...are already allies, at least in the Underworld. As you said, the Lion has little investment into the sunlit realm. You certainly have your reasons for venturing so fair away from their power base in the Thousand. Why not work together during our stay in Creation? Then, she nods at Grave Saint, smiling cheerfully. "As far as I know, there's no bad blood between our lieges. Just the usual displeasure. I've spent some time touring the Scavenger Lands by now, and quite a few living Chosen call them home. They're not exactly friendly towards our cause. I've met a few of them myself." After another long sip, she lowers both her cup and her smile, now looking at both of them with appropriate sobriety. "Let me tell you what I've learned, and you will understand why I'm proposing this now."
Grave Saint	"He did not show his caste mark but if he simply claimed he's a deathknight to draw my attention to give him more information, then I better be prepared when he arrives at my shrine's doorstep. And sure, you can meet him although be careful around such man. Even if he's not a deathknight, he might be something else. Maybe an exigent that peered too deep into the lore of the Underworld" She has only speculation regarding Perfect Question for now and she must plan her next move right. "Even if our deathlords may not interact much, I'll accept this alliance considering that the Immaculates are against us and even most chosen considered anathema view us as enemies to Creation. I wish there were more that accepted the invited, but I bet time will come that we may draw more Abyssals to our alliance" She accepts but curiously wonders what Chorus has learned in the Scavenger Lands so far. "Do tell"
Blackest Barlow	Barlow raises his cup towards Chorus and nods. "True. My liege has the utmost respect for the Black Heron and I have no reason to not mimic that respect. An alliance between us would seem sensible, however..." His eyes looks towards Grave Saint, "I'm less sure of us. While we might be able to converse with ease, I've heard our masters aren't exactly on speaking terms." Barlow cracks his knuckles, blood dripping down in a long stream for a moment after. "But personally, I have no quarrels with either of you. It would be safer to work together than to make enemies where there are already plenty of threats."
The Mournful Chorus	While the others are offering their thoughts on her proposal, Chorus helps herself to a bunch of roasted spite-nuts, lightly sprinkled with black salt. She chews on a few while listening, then shakes off the salt from a one of the angry red seeds and offers it to the monkey, who instantly stuffs the nut into its mouth and stops sulking. When both deathknights have voiced their agreement, a delighted smile blossoms on her lips. "I knew you two would see the wisdom in this. We're all operating on our own, without the backup of a Circle, in hostile territory. Consolidating our forces and sharing what we learn about our mutual enemies' moves will be an immense boon to us all." Dropping her smile for now, she then begins to tell them what she already teased earlier: "Speaking of intelligence about enemy movements... I've received word from spies in the Hundred Kingdoms. There's that backwater city state, Iron Simhata. One of the Lover's deathknights, a Daybreak who went by Vitiating Whispers that Spiral Into the Reaper's Embrace, was quite busy doing his thing there, but he got careless and overextended." Chorus clears her throat, takes a big gulp from her drink, then continues: "Ever heard of the Diamond Devil Prince of the Shimmering Hell? Allegedly, he's some kind of Exigent with quite a bunch of mortal followers. A survivor of Thorns, who now makes it a habit to hunt for deathknights in the region. He is credited with ending Vitiating Whispers... but there are even more concerning rumors - that someone working for Heaven was involved." She looks at Grave Saint, acknowledging the Midnight's former warning about the Sidereals. "Now, you might be asking yourself: Was that one of the Star-Chosen? I honestly don't know, but there is certainly something strange going on with a person who I seemingly keep bumping into wherever I go, and who was ~also~ in Iron Simhata when Vitiating Whispers perished. Always, she wears a different disguise, but I keep recognizing her anyway. Goes by the name of Divya, among others."
Grave Saint	Grave carefully listens to what Chorus has learned in the Hundred Kingdoms and surprised by the events that transpired there. "Another deathknight but of the Lover? Considering the fact the Mask Of Winters revealed himself to Creation alongside his deathknights, it seems other got too cocky and tired of hiding." She sighs as there are fellow chosen that revealed their existence to Creation as harbingers of the apocalypse and some revel in it even if it will attract the attention of the Wyld Hunt. "I outright run a death cult in Great Forks and people treat it as any other obscure faith but I never do absurdities such as human sacrifices that draws attention especially the Wyld Hunt. Life shall die no matter how it runs like a dying lion being watched and followed by a vulture, so I never bother with such practices" She sips her tea as the deathknight is amused by the lack of subtlety of her rival deathlord's champion "an exigent hunting deathknights? We should tread carefully whenever he's around. I was considering preaching to the Hundred Kingdoms to expand my faith but I'll find some place else"
Blackest Barlow	Barlow listens carefully to Chorus words, leaning in closer when she begins to explain some of the recetn developments in the East. "I've not heard of this Exigent before, but if they were powerful or resourceful enough to kill a deathknight, then I agree with Bleeding Higanbana. We should treat them as a very serious threat. Maybe learning more on their disposition will give us insight into why they hunted Lover's knight? Whether its a vendetta against all deathknights or something else..." Sighing and shrugging, Barlow continues, "However, my mission is to observe conflicts and wars within the East. I cannot avoid the Hundred Kingdoms entirely, given its the largest source of such events. Nor do I have a means to hide what I am easily. Perhaps I should seek to present myself in a positive light in some way? Something I will have to think hard on."
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus nods approvingly at Grave Saint for being such a sensible, covert operative. At Barlow's words, one of the Moonshadow's eyebrows climbs up, soon followed by the other, while she examines the enormous soulsteel-clad figure with literal pyreflame burning where his eyes should be. "Well...", she begins, drawing out the word, "...I'm not saying that's impossible, if you really put your mind to it, but you will have to exercise considerable restraint. I have no doubt that you would crush that Exigent into a bloody pulp, but what if he has backup, like he had in Iron Simhata?" The monkey chitters greedily, indicating the bowl of nuts, and Chorus indulges her pet by handing it another one, and then another. "There's rumor of another Chosen in the Hundred Kingdoms, one of the Sun. He's supposed to be a veritable giant, even larger than you. Goes by the monicker of Titan Breaker, because he broke someone's titanic pet at the sacking of Thorns, then fled the city." She sighs in exasperation. "I guess we have yet one more problem that wouldn't exist, had the Mask of Winters not decided to be such a cocky bitch."
Blackest Barlow	"Crushing this Exigent would be counter productive as well. It would simply draw more negative attention." Barlow toys with the idea of even suggesting that this Iron Simhata could be used against others, but dismisses the idea. Too risky. "Originally, I intended to draw kingdoms into war directly, but I suppose a more subtle approach could work." Barlow eyes the monkey with amusement, sipping his tea before continuing. "Perhaps, instead of allying with a kingdom and starting a war, I'll simply offer my services as a trainer. I wonder if military training at a modest cost might go unnoticed." His eyes light up at the mentionof a person larger than himself and a Chosen at that. "Titan Breaker, you say? And he was present at the battle in Thorns? I cannot imagine he would prove friendly to someone like me. I will have to see if I can avoid him until I can convince people I'm not a threat."
The Mournful Chorus	Seeing that Bleeding Higanbana is content with nursing her tea and simply listening for now, Chorus responds: "There are more subtle ways to deal with Diamond Devil Prince of Whatever. You know, some of the tales I've heard of him are... strange. It's said that he leads a mercenary company, but his soldiers act strangely, as if there was something wrong with them." She wriggles a hand, golden bracelets chinking against each other. "This is probably a good time to mention that I'm going to Iron Simhata in a few days. That self-styled hunter of deathknights supposedly protects a Thornish refugee camp somewhere in the area. No reason to not pay him a visit, talk to him a bit, and try to learn more." Her dashing smile surfaces again, mischievous this time. "Passing myself off as one of the living won't be an issue. And if there's any truth about those rumors, we could rid ourselves of him by dropping hints in the lap of the closest devout Immaculate monk. Eventually, a Wyld Hunt is going to take care of the problem for us." After staring at her cup for a few moments, she looks up at Blackest Barlow's helmet again, into those burning eyes. Gone is the smile. "Of course, that would require us to not draw attention to ourselves. All of us. I'm curious... what does the Lion hope to gain by having you stirring up war in the region? It's not as if the Hundred Kingdoms would need an invitation to constantly be at each other's throats, or so I've heard." A deep sigh. "What do you want to accomplish?"
Blackest Barlow	"Learning more about your enemies is vital, but be careful. If this Diamond Devil has killed one already, it would likely go poorly if he learned what you are." Barlow stares off in the distance for a moment, as if listening for something. Then, he carefully sets the tea cup on the table before folding his hands and leaning on the table himself. "There are really only two things we hope to accomplish in the East." Barlow's eyes flare up a bit more, a barely noticeable hint of excitement and pride in his voice. "The first is to learn more. The Legion is the most powerful military force in existence, whether here or out there in Creation. However, it is dated. The Legion needs to get up to speed with current military tactics. Normally, we'd take our time, but Mask's desires for more land and power have put us in a difficult place. So, I'm here to learn first-hand what war in Creation would look like." Barlow leans back, raising his hands up as if this second part were an afterthought, "And if these suddenly battle-hardened kingdoms and troops suddenly prove an obstacle to Mask, Walker, or other military-minded rivals in the East... Well, I guess that would be accomplishment number two."
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus is nothing if not a good listener. When Barlow pauses in between, she waits patiently for him to continue, all while watching him intently and sipping her drink. In the brief pause, the sounds of ghosts engaging in all sorts of revel faintly waft up from below - laugher, music, and occasional wailing. After the Dusk Caste finishes, a slow, indulgent grin almost splits Chorus' face in half. "Ah. Then the rumors are true. You must indeed be one of the Lion's most trusted generals, and an accomplished strategos. They chose wisely. I'm relieved to hear that they finally decided to not entirely ignore the living. With us now revealed to Creation, confrontation will eventually be inevitable." Although she stops grinning, she still looks quite pleased. "I don't know the first thing about waging war, or leading troops into battle, but the weapons I wield also depend on careful preparation, on knowing my enemy, and striking with precision." Chorus draws one corner of her mouth up, pressing the tip of her canine into her lower lip. "In that, our approaches aren't so different." With a nod at both Barlow and Grave Saint, she raises her cup for a toast: "To our alliance, then! May our plans bear rotten fruit, and may our enemies' hearts falter in their chests." The Moonshadow grins, then drinks deep. Even if only two answered her call, it's a start.
Blackest Barlow	Barlow follows suit and raises his cup, "To our alliance! May our actions give our enemies pause and our allies reason to cheer!" He smiles beneath his helmet. Not even a step into Creation and he's already found some allies. Perhaps this endeavor won't be as painful as he first thought.