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The Mournful Chorus	In less tumultuous times, Sanazar was a trade city, bustling with business and life. Today, more than a century after the succession of bloody wars that turned it into a shadowland, all that remains are cracked buildings, defiled shrines, and ransacked graves. Constant mist fills the hollow bones of broken streets, where ghost flowers bloom and weeping vines engulf pillars and fallen statues. But beneath the bleak sky, things are slowly changing. Small trade skiffs drift in and out of Sanazar's river harbor. Ghostly workers have begun to make repairs, first to the crumbling docks, now to the buildings adjacent to the river, while raitons circle above, curious about the change coming to the dead streets. The living still have not returned to this place, and if they ever will, they are going to find it already occupied by the dead. Both Blackest Barlow and Bleeding Higanbana have received invitations by the Mournful Chorus of Shattered Heavens, who has picked this place for another meeting with her newfound allies in the region. The sun is already dipping low. Soon, night will engulf the shadowland, and traders from the Underworld will arrive to barter with the denizens of the awakening city.
Blackest Barlow	"Hmmm.." Blackest Barlow ponders to himself. He hasn't slept well in a few days. Or rather, he's slept too well. He hasn't had any nightmares the last few nights, which is strange for him. "Perhaps all the travel is messing with my mind a bit," he mutters to himself before scanning his surroundings for signs of his newest companions. He drags a small cart carrying his stone sarcophagus on it by himself, having left his ghostly soldiers back in Stygia so that he can travel the East a little more freely. He pauses for a moment, shaking the dripping blood from his gauntlets. "A nice place. I should make a note to stay here for a few months when I have the time."
Grave Saint	Bleeding Higanbana was preaching back in Great Forks once again after a long pilgrimage to the Shining Tabernacle back in the North ruled by her deathlord. As she has mostly interacted with other exalts that are not fellow deathknights, she decided to come to Sanazar for a visit to interact with her fellow Abyssals. She has some particular mortal attendants dressed in simple gray dresses and their faces are covered in a shroud. Higanbana is still disappointed that only three were at the meeting yet she hopes more deathknights will come to their banner in the form of this alliance. The dark priestess whistles a seemingly innocent and sweet hymn along the way while they walk towards Sanazar. The sound of her whistle can be heard even before she arrived. "Phew finally here. I was practicing on deciding which tune my next song should have, so used my time walking here for practice and to kill boredom"
The Mournful Chorus	One of the ships moored to the docks stands apart from fisher's rowboats, catamarans, and small trading skiffs - not just due to its size: The black water's gentle waves splash against a large junk's hull, made from bone-white wood, but colorfully painted along its entire length, displaying benthic sealife, many different flowers, and multiple celestial bodies, among them several different moons and stars. The ship spouts three battened sails, with several smaller ones arranged in a pattern reminiscent of flower petals. Many-colored banners in the shape of avian raptors flow from its rafters, and chains of glowing lanterns strung between the masts cast eerie reflections, green and blue, on the water. The two arriving deathknights can hear music and laughter wafting from the ship, still faintly audible even in the far corners of the quiet streets, beckoning Higanbana and Barlow closer to the harbor. Soon, they run into the first ghostly denizens of Sanazar, still barely visible and intangible, especially when the sun's pale light touches them. They eye the Abyssals with wary curiosity, but still offer them greetings and direct them with mute gestures towards their destination. The Heron's deathknight has picked an excellent spot in the restored potion of the harbor wall, on a high plaza overlooking the wooden docks below in front of a ruined storefront - it might once have been a cafe of some sort. Several tables with flickering black candles have been set out for guests, but none of the seats are currently occupied. Chorus is leaning against an iron guardrail, rusted and dented in many places. Once, it would have prevented people wandering on the wall from falling several dozen meters down to their deaths. Now, it's safety is questionable at best. Contrasting their meeting in Stygia, the Moonshadow wears more practical clothing - purple pantaloons and matching silken vest, with decorative girdles, golden jewelry, and an iridescent leather sash. Delicate floral embroidery covers most of the fabric. Her monkey observes the flock of raitons from a nearby building's slanted roof. When she hears footsteps approaching, she turns around, smiling in anticipation.
Blackest Barlow	Blackest Barlow's eyes take in the sights of the city; the ships, the people, the pale light of the sun. However, they eventually rest on one of his companions. "Greetings, Chorus," Blackest Barlow's deep voice echoes from within his soulsteel armor. His ears pick up the pleasant sound of whistling, enjoying it for a moment before looking for the source. When he turns and spots the whistler, he releases his cart and raises a hand in a polite, but muted wave. "And greetings, Higanbana, as well. I hope both of you have been well since our last meeting?" He pulls out a cloth and wipes some of the blood again from his hands, hoping to at least stem it for a few minutes. "Pardon the mess. Hard to keep anything clean these days."
Grave Saint	"And greetings to you as well Blackest Barlow" Despite his less appealing visage, Higanbana does not mind it for death comes in many faces and all serve a purpose of their own. She looks at the shadowland's view, enamored by it's dark majesty while looking at the raitons above. "Besides dealing with affairs in Great Forks, nothing much besides the usual. Preaching my convent's doctrines both in sermons as fiery as ghostly pyreflame and songs of joy tainted with hidden and deathly meaning. The teachings of death come in many forms" Despite her time in Great Forks, there is always something bugging her in that city. "Although I acclimatized to the city's ways, the self righteousness of the chosen there annoy yet amuse me that I cannot describe well. They deny my teachings in accepting the inevitability of death, my macabre trappings or that my praise over the ancestor spirits instead of the gods are questionable. Yet there are gods more vile than mere ghost out there. I even heard about a god of slavery of all things but I don't know if they even exist. Thankfully they view me as just some priestess of an obscure Immaculate sect. It's probably the result of ancestor cults being associated with their rival city of Sijan even before the Thorns fiasco" Out of curiosity she turns to the others if they were doing something notable. "But other than that, nothing much. Anything interesting and noteworthy?"
The Mournful Chorus	Behind Barlow's heavy footfalls, Chorus can hear the whistling approach, and she cocks her head, listening with a n intensely focused expression for a few seconds before her smile blooms again. Whatever she's heard in the tune, it seems to satisfy her deeply. When both deathknights approach, she greets them in turn, and hears Higanbana's news from Great Forks with interest. "First, it's my pleasure to welcome you both to Sanazar", she chimes, voice cheerful despite - or perhaps because of - the neglect and decay around them. "Admittedly, accomodation here is a bit on the sparse side...", she gestures at the tables and the ruined storefront, grinning apologetically, "...but I'm well aware that you two are preoccupied with your own business in Creation and can't always make the long trip to Stygia." The small woman remains standing with her back to the harbor for the moment, but makes another gesture, an inviting one directed at the empty chairs, should anyone want to take a seat. "After looting everything valuable, the living have long abandoned this place. I'd say we're reasonably safe from uninvited guests here... but we should still be vigilant, just in case." A bottle of strangely dark red mead, along with three glasses, sits on one of the tables to the side. There are no servants here, so it falls to the deathknights to pour for themselves. Chorus runs her fingers through the longer strands of hair on the left side of her face and smiles wistfully. "I admire your tenacity, Bleeding Higanbana. Great Forks is dangerous ground to tread for us. I've only just scratched the surface. On the upside, actual Immaculacy has a pretty tough time gaining purchase there... and I've found the local ancestor cults easily approachable, at least in disguise. Speaking of which..." She points at herself, her peculiar outfit, which incorporates the trappings of death with such subtlety that even the other two Abyssals are having trouble spotting them without looking close. "Around this parts, I'm know as Ravi Voice-of-Longing, traveling entertainer. Please use that monicker to refer to me while we're here, just on the off chance that someone who's not supposed to be here manages to sneak in. Now... how's your search for war coming along, Barlow?" She throws the armoured Dusk Caste an expectant look.
Blackest Barlow	"I sometimes envy your ability to walk amongst the living as one of them," Barlow says plainly and honestly toHiganbana while pouring himself a drink. "Though I doubt that even if I was not as disfigured as I am that I'd be capable of subtley such that both of you are capable of. I've never been good at such things." Looking at Chorus, he nods to confirm he heard what she said, "Understood, Ravi. As for my search, I've had little luck in my search so far, but I'm still very optimistic. Its a delicate balance, finding the right war to involve myself in or the proper kingdoms to begin training." Barlow pauses and clears his throat a bit. "I admit I've been having some trouble acclimating to Creation. I'm hoping some of these things pass as we stay here longer?" His last statement clearly a question, as he wonders whether either of his companions encountered problems in Creation as well.
Grave Saint	"If only you can hide your true nature from the living. It's dangerous these days since the nations of the Scavenger Lands are wary about our kind more so than imperialist dynasts or lunar warlords. I hope you'll find a good conflict to use your talents in but I may help you with it." Higanbana says to Barlow understanding his condition when it comes to walking in the land of the living. She then turns to "Ravi" regarding her infiltration "Despite it's problems, Great Forks is a good breeding ground for heresies since besides my cult, there are other Immaculate offshoots that fell from the tree. As long as I am compliant and not the type to preach openly on how gods should not interfere with mortal affairs, I should be safe" It is foolish for an orthodox monk to openly espouse the Perfected Hierarchy especially in a divine city where it's violated "Currently my plans are spreading my cult in areas near Great Forks. Other than that, there may be anathema within that city besides that Solar I meet. I plan to do a little digging but of course it's a hornets nest"
The Mournful Chorus	The Midnight's words hold wisdom, and Chorus accepts them with an appreciative nod. For the moment, her smile has faded away, replaced by a thoughtful solemnity that clashes with the bright, cheerful colors on her clothes. Her eyes travel from Higanbana to Barlow and take note of his soulsteel-clad form, of the blood slowly dripping on the plaza's flagstones. Pondering, she turns her gaze towards the harbor, and to the wide river beyond, fingers worrying at flakes of grey coating once covering the rail's iron, now chipped away and caked with rust. With her back towards the others, she finally speaks, sounding pensive: "Bleeding Higanbana has probably spent more time in the sunlit realm than I have, Barlow. Perhaps she could offer guidance. If there wasn't work for me to do, I would rather stay in the Underworld forever... but we all have our obligations, haven't we?" Now she does turn back around to face them, once again leaning against the perilous railing. The chip of coating she's managed to pry loose, she consigns to the wind. "What troubles you so?", Chorus asks the Dusk. "Is it related to..." - a wave at his hands - "...the constant bleeding? I hope I'm not prodding a sore spot here, but I do want to get to know you better... both of you."
Blackest Barlow	When Chorus says the word 'oligations,' Barlow almost subconsciously nods in agreement before taking a sip from his cup. "Well," he begins, a bit unsure how to word some of the things he's noticed. "There was one night where I had no dreams or nightmares that was peculiar and I awoke feeling a bit unrested. Aside from that, colors and lights there are too vibrant or too bright. The armor helps," Barlow motions to the very blatant trappings of death before continuing. "But it is still pretty unpleasant." Catching sight of the bleeding starting again, Barlow carefully cleans and then wraps his gauntlets in cloth to slow the drip again. "As for the bleeding, that is normal for me. A side-effect of both the Last Breath and then made worse by my delving into Necromancy." He looks at his cup, swirling the liquid inside while trapped in thought. "I constantly bleed from my hands. Or what's left of them, anways. Not sure the blood is even mine, to be honest." He takes another drink of his beverage. Barlow then looks over at Higanbana, pyreflame eyes burning under his helmet and raises his cup, "I appreciate the offer for assistance. If you need military help, I'm available to help."
Grave Saint	"Hmm I do need some protection when it comes to preaching outside of Great Forks, so I may consider it" Higanbana says with an assuring tone to Barlow for she hopes to spread her teachings beyond the city of little gods. She then is curious about the reasons of his literally bloody handed condition. "Ah a side effect of necromancy. Although I plan to learn it once I finish the basics of the current martial art I'm learning, but I should be careful as that art has some not so subtle effects in Creation even more so than sorcery." Despite the occult asset it may bring to her, it's a double edged sword at best. She then returns to the topic of aiding Barlow. "But yes I have some experience in walking amongst the living and even exalted that abhor us. Amusingly I learnt how to pose as a dragon even before I took the second breath but it's a silly and embarrassing story to begin with" She cringes just by reliving those old memories of hers. "Since your hands are bleeding, I wonder if that armor of yours can be disguised. There are war gods after all, so maybe an exigent of one that's really bloodthirsty to the point their themes manifested physically"
The Mournful Chorus	"Right... necromancy." Chorus chews on her lower lip, once again eyeing Barlow's curiously bleeding hands. "A useful skill, that much I understand - although I'm afraid it's not for me. No spark for that whatsoever. My talents lie elsewhere." She shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by this, and finally gives herself a small push from the guardrail, to make a beeline for the table with the delicious, if a little bloody, mead. While pouring for herself (and perhaps for Higanbana, too, if she wants some), the Moonshadow continues: "I wouldn't speak about other lives, even if there were any. Besides, here we are now, a power to be reckoned with. Who cares about the past anyway?" With a merry grin, she turns around, offering her cup in a toast before taking a large sip. "Suffice to say, I'm right were I belong. But yes, the living are aware of us now, as we already established. We need the trappings of death to shield us from the worst of Creation's hostility. I've got to wear them, too... simply figured out a way to make them less on-the-nose." A couple of steps take her closer to Barlow. "Disguising that armor ~might~ help. Admittedly, it looks like a piece of work. Are you able to... you know... take it off?" She frowns at the thick soulsteel plates, the helmet... basically at ~everything~, then turns to Higanbana: "The Exigent card has already been played quite often, if any of the rumors I've heard are true. Best be careful with that."
Blackest Barlow	"I agree. The past is dead and talking about it will bring only pain." Barlow takes another drink and then tops off his cup, but he subconsciously rubs where a ring might be visible if he weren't wearing gauntlets. It is clear that his pre-Exaltation life is a sore point for him. Barlow then downs the recently filled cup in a single gulp, eager to move to a more productive topic. "Disguising my armor? It couldn't hurt, if such a thing can be done. I am not the most skilled at such things, but I am open to suggestions." He starts to fill his cup once again when he hears Chorus' question. He stops mid pour, pausing as his pyreflame eyes dim slightly as if squinting. "No. It does not." He looks at his fellow deathknights before putting his cup down carefully on the table. He carefully moves his pauldrons with a hand to show what lies beneath it. Bloodied bone with soulsteel rivets grafting the armor to him like a new second skin. "As I said before, the Last Breath was less... kind to me than the two of you." He reaches out and grips his cup again, taking another hearty gulp.
Grave Saint	"Ah slip of the tongue. I never tell anyone of my past of course but I sometimes forget especially since I have been isolated and never meet a fellow Abyssal for too long" She sighs as hiding her true nature while not meeting other deathknights for an unknown period of time has caused her to forget minor details. "Yes the exigent excuse has been used too many times by other exalts, so it needs some work if the armor is disguised. We may need to find something else for that. However unexpectedly, one of her shrouded mortal servants approaches her. "What? One of the ancestor ghosts in Great Forks we are in contact with has sent an Infallible Messenger to you? I wonder what they want to tell me." She then turns to her fellow deathknights. "I need to discuss something with my servant regarding business with a ghost who is my sole informant in this city. Hopefully it's not one of those pesky Lethe cultists annoying them again." Grave says as she turns to the servant in discussing the contents of the message.
The Mournful Chorus	What glimpse she received of Barlow's mutilated body doesn't seem to disturb Chorus. Neither does she wrinkle her nose, or avert her eyes in disgust. She simply examines the gruesome display with rapt attention - the same attention with which she habitually observes facial expression and body language of her conversational partners almost all the time. It's slowly getting darker now, and the candle flames cast dancing, flickering lights in the wind. When Higanbana steps away to discuss matters with her servant, Chorus leans into her direction at first, curious about what exactly that matter mind entail. But eavesdropping is rude, of course. So she shrugs, smiles with a hint of regret, and pulls one of the creaky chairs towards her to join Barlow at the table. "So...", she begins, setting her cup down and wrapping her hands around it before eying the helmet before her with curiosity. "There's obviously a story here, and a lot of pain with it." Her voice softens. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask. If you would like to tell - maybe not now, maybe another day - I will listen. It may sound a little weird, coming from someone who's literally dispatched to talk a lot, but I'm a good listener." After a careful sip from her drink, she adds" "There's nothing I can do to free you from this torture, but if there's anything you need, just ask. Even if it's just a song to help you feel something else for a while, or the right words at the right moment, or someone who will hear what you need to say without judging."
Blackest Barlow	Barlow takes yet another hearty gulp while his other hand lets go of the pauldron, letting it snap back into place with a hollow ringing of metal. He gasps for a breath as he finishes the drink, putting the cup down. "We are taught that life is pain, are we not?" He chuckles a bit which resonates and echoes inside of his armor. "But I seek no relief from my predicament. I've come to terms with it and proudly embrace what I am now! My dreams now are larger than ever and I have the power to make them a reality!" His voice leaves no room for doubt and his eyes burn brighter, his somber attitude pushed away in this moment as he let's his guard down. "And until I have accomplished what I promised, I will keep this armor grafted to myself." As if suddenly realizing how impassioned he sounded, he coughs a bit and pours himself another glass. "What drives you, Ravi? Loyalty? Passion? Curiousity?" He glances back at where Higanbana walked off to and then adds, "Religious zeal?"
The Mournful Chorus	The Moonshadow smiles amiably, nodding empathically. Another skilled socialite might recognize that expression as a shield, a guard against any attempts to discern what's going through her head right now. However, she hesitates for a fleeting moment before raising that shield... maybe wishing she could do otherwise, to truly open up. Instead of answering immediately, she leans back, taking a swig from her cup, then licks her lips. Above them, the circling raiton's harsh cries echo over the ruined cityscape, and then, moving as one, the flock veers off, flying east across the river. They know better than to stay within the shadowland, now that night is almost upon them. Chorus follows them with her gaze at first before looking at Barlow again, still with that smile firmely in place. She tilts her head slightly. "All of that, I guess. Minus the zeal. Not the religious type myself, you see. I've been touring the Underworld at my liege's behest for a couple of years, and there was so much to see, so much to experience... but I still want to know more. About what's out there. I like meeting people." A shrug, stating the obvious.
Blackest Barlow	"There is certainly always more to learn," Barlow agrees, eyes wandering as he takes more time to enjoy the slow passage of day to night. He feels himself relax more, Creation's bright lights and colors almost a distant memory to him already, though he knows he must return to it again soon. "Well, I will extend the same offer to you that I have to Higanbana. If you need military advice or assistance, I am happy to serve in that capacity." He gazes out over the water, his more reserved and somber mood returning once again. "One person I met assumed me simply one of the walking dead, albeit one more amiable than the typical zombie. Perhaps disguising myself is the wrong path. Maybe its better to just let people think I'm just one of the dead and let my actions speak for me." He sips his drink again. "Maybe some of Higanbana's sermons on the 'helpful dead' would help to make things easier for me, as well."
The Mournful Chorus	"Thank you kindly, and I'll take you up on it." The woman who is sometimes Ravi lets out a merry chuckle. "All I know about military affairs boils down to 'if someone's pointing a weapon at you, dodge'." Around them, the death of daylight allows Sanazar's ghosts to become tangible. Slowly but inevitably, the city's streets come alive with their hushed, excited voices. Tools are picked up by calloused hands, eager to continue last night's work. Soon, the sounds of construction can be heard from below and behind the plaza. Other ghosts flock towards the harbor, drawn by the entertainment ship's lanterns. And soon, visitors from neighboring afterlives will arrive. Chorus's smile brightens, and she even catches the eyes of a few ghosts who are evidently known to her, waving at them as they pass by. But Barlow is still right there, so her eyes soon rest on him again. She looks thoughtful now. "Hiding in plain sight? Hmmm. Maybe that would suit you better, yes. Still, I advise caution. The prick in Thorns has made people in the region wary of the dead. I'm doing my best to change that, just like Higanbana does, but it will take time." With a grand, sweeping gesture, she indicates the ghostly workers around them. "The living and the dead shouldn't fear each other. I'm seeking out neglected shadowlands like this one on purpose - the living regard Sanazar as empty, cursed, or haunted, depending on whom you ask. A place to stay away from. We will see if that attitude prevails when the shadowland's otherworldly goods become available again, with ghosts welcoming living traders. Everyone wants to go where the money is, right? And so the two worlds become entwined, connected, instead of segregated." She winks, finishes her drink, then stretches. "What's ~your~ big dream, if you don't mind me asking? Something to do with war?"
Blackest Barlow	The city coming alive brings a smile to Barlow's face, though its hidden within the bleak darkness of his helmet. He watches the semi-normal lives of the ghosts with a touch of hope that what his companion says could be true. He glances at Chorus again and raises a glass to her question, "In a fashion... A united Underworld. It seems unlikely, I know, especially with current politics in Stygia, but I do believe it possible someday, through force or otherwise." He leans over the railing, looking out over the city. "Lion is a strong, tactical leader. Heron is a powerful force in Stygia." His eyes burn a little in anger, "Of course, Mask is a bit of a prick." The bustling of the city finally seems to enticing to him, so he puts his cup back down on the table and bows, "But I won't think about that particular 'Thorn' in my side anymore tonight. I think I'll instead go and mingle with some of the locals. Enjoy myself before I return to a world far too bright in the morning."
The Mournful Chorus	His eagerness to explore the city, now that it echoes with the potential of bleak beauty, coaxes musical laughter out of Chorus' throat. She waves at him. "Don't let me keep you, then! Enjoy the respite, and your stay. There's already an alehouse reopening two blocks from here - just follow the sounds of carousing, and you'll find it in no time." Grinning, she leans forward, just as her pet monkey hops down from the roof and gallops over to her. "And if you're in the mood for music, dance, and the caress of truly skilled courtesans, pay my ship a visit. You're always welcome on the Sunless Orchid." She raises her glass, empty as it may be, and watches him go. A quick glance confirms that whatever urgent matter needs discussing is still being discussed by Higanbana. So she reaches down to scratch the monkey's neck, and breathes out a huge sigh. Then, softly, she begins to sing - a hymn to the workers, to the brave ghosts taking up the challenge of rebuilding what has fallen so long ago. The night is still young, and it belongs to the dead.