RP:Don't Quit Your Day Job

The Graveyard in Vailkrin

Ernest couldn't help but let a little grimace show on his leathery, dessicated face as he moved through the various tombstones. Why people even bothered marking their graves here, he didn't know. Seemed just a bit amateurish to him to come out here to what was, effectively, a public-access corpse repository, but it was better than having to do more of the work himself. Eventually, he located a plot that hadn't been disturbed. With a flick, he hauled out his spellbook and flipped it open, placing his fingers on a set of sigils and muttering a command word under his breath. The earth rumbled quietly as it shifted itself out of the way, forming a neat pile beside the grave and making the casket much easier to access. "Sorry 'bout this," he said, tipping his hat as he dropped feetfirst into the pit, his spurs clinking as he hit the ground. Bony hands went to the lid of the coffin and hauled it up. "But I'm hopin' that if y'ain't movin' yet, y'ain't plannin' to, an' I got an idea that's too good not ta try."

Rinn sauntered into view casually while her pale blues roamed over the graveyard, she had received a tip off that there was a new occupant in the Vailkrin tombs - she hoped they had been buried with gifts for the afterlife. Her thumbs hooked around the straps of her backpack to help dispace some of the weight while her boots stayed true to her path. Attached to her pack there was a shovel, the scraps and groves would tell one it was a valued part of her life and line of work. The grave-robbers red hair was braided to the side to help manage the mane that was usually littered with dirt and her body was cloaked in all black, it helped her blend when necessary. However today the graveyard was extra lively, how ironic, which slowed her pace, "Uhh, friends of the deceased?" She probed for information on Terra's and Ernest's purpose.

Terra wondered how it was possible for three different people to arrive at a graveyard on the same evening with the same general purpose - ruining the resting place of the dead. In Terra's defense, she was accompanied by a grumbling Steadmen who looked out of place outside of the Hanging Corpse. He was not entirely thrilled about letter someone sub in for him at his place of business but he adjusted his eye patched and nudged Terra forward, after he reminded her a loss was a loss. "Yes, but there were circumstances... drunk people!" The vampire tried, exasperated and it was evident by her tone and the barkeeps posture that this was an old arguement. They are both stopped short when they heard the clink of spurs... Odd. The dead didn't need those, right? And then a female voice drew their attention towards Rinn and they decided they didn't need to continue forward just yet. "Something like that." Another clink and she looked puzzled at Rinn, who didn't appear to be moving. "What is that?"

Ernest paused a moment as he heard the woman's voice call him out. Inside one of his pockets, a Helpin' Hand tapped a rune and his longcoat and hat began to faintly create a black, smoky aura that dissipated switftly, but which meshed well with the faint bluish glow inherent to the fabric and gave him a very ethereal sort of look. "If I were a friend," he said, turning a look over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, deliberately turning up the gravel in his voice just a touch for effect, "you s'pose I'd let 'im be buried here?" Darn. He'd sort of hoped that he'd be able to experiment without witnesses, so that unveiling it later would be much more of an event, but then again... he never did begrudge an audience to his shenanigans. Reaching into the casket, he hauled out the body and gave it a quick once-over. Likeness wasn't particularly great. Probably best to salt it for a while. But it'd be a decent prototype for now. Tossing the body over his shoulder, he opened his book again. Now the hand--a disembodied skeletal hand--popped out of its pocket, crawled down his sleeve, and out onto his wrist and then the book, where it flicked through some pages until it could rest upon a couple of sigils. "What's -what-?" he asked, before muttering his command word and rising out of the grave on a pillar of earth, offering both women--and Steadmen--a stiff grin that came off as more of a sneer. The Helpin' Hand jumped up to Ernest's hat and grabbed the brim, using its weight to tip it at the all of them before letting go and disappearing back inside the jacket. "Th' dirt pile, th' body, th' handsome devil, or th' point of it all?"

Rinn watched Ernest in horror as he so casually uprooted a coffin, "What the actual fu-" A crow swacked. A jerk to the side had her pack off her back and slung into the dirt with a small puff of dust, "Are you lost, mate?" Her words slithered out behind clenched teeth, maybe he didn't know what he was doing. Maybe he didn't know who's stomping ground this was. Maybe he had a death wish. She didn't even skip a beat to double over and unlace her shovel before erecting herself back right. A forceful smash had the spade of her tool biting into the earth and a booted foot perched on it's lip- her arms crossed over the handle as she sized up Ernest and thought about a quick game of whack-a-mole. However the male wasn't the only one present and soon Terra would feel eyes back on her, then the Steadmen. "Who let you out of your cave." Rinn seemed to bitterly tease the barkeep, they had a bit of a repore though it was safe to say the thief wasn't his favorite hauntee. As for the 'clink', she heard it but wasn't about that game, "What's what is right." She replied as her eyes narrowed towards the female. "Maybe you two should go check it out. Hells, take that thing with you." Her chin jutted toward the mummy. As for the handsome devil comment she groaned audibly, even rolled her eyes. "You can keep the corpse but I'll be having the contents of that box." This was a statement she would make good on.

Terra exchanged a look with Steadmen who then grunted at Rinn's inquiry as to why he was outside of the Corpse. That was a question he had asked himself several times on the way over. After a brief assessment of the crowd present and a hushed conversation with the empath, Steadmen was on his way. Terra, meanwhile, remained undeterred. After all, a loss was a loss and it just so happened that Rinn had a few tools that she could probably use. "I have to stop coming here." That was as much as she could manage but curiosity would be what propelled her closer. Was that a hand...? "If you're going to uh, put the moves on your friend there, may I suggest anywhere that isn't here?" Truthfully, she had heard of his type before, the ones in love with the dead but she never realized there were those that escalated that love to such a physical level - and in front of a crowd, no less. She kept Rinn in the line of sight but truthfully, there's a lot to take in so her eyes are darting everywhere, unable to determine which would be the first threat to deal with.

Ernest , just as casually as he'd fireman-carried the body out of the pit, dumped it off his shoulder into the dirt with a shrug. "I ain't interested in th' box. Wouldn't be surprised if there's nothin' in there, though. Look around. Most of th' graves here are empty, an' it's 'cause this city is crawlin' with amateur necromancers, an' you know it. Y'ain't buried here unless y'got nobody or nothin' ta care fer your corpse." The idea of him putting the moves on someone was hilarious, and he couldn't help but let out a dry, ugly laugh. Now that he had a free hand, he removed his hat from his head--once he'd stopped giggling--and placed it over his chest. His eyes, now clearly visible, were yellowed and sunk in their sockets. His teeth were placed haphazardly about his mouth, as his gums had shriveled up over the course of his ten years decaying in the sand. His cheek had a hole in it and his hair was almost nonexistent. "Miss, I ain't interested in that either. Maybe it's the lightin' or somethin' that y'ain't got a clear look at me, but I assure you," the hat returned to its place atop his head, allowing its shadow to obscure him a little bit again, "I ain't even got th' soft tissues fer that. Jus' here for a little practice, that's all. You saw th' Helpin' Hand, yeah? I got plans fer somethin' a little better."

Rinn dropped her jaw before a cackle erupted from her depths, this woman was a funny creature. "Oh my Gods." She managed finally realizing what Terra implied, "Gross." She agreed with a brisk nod of approval towards the vampire, ok, she could stay. Ernest climbed from the grave and the robber recollected her composure, until the hat came off. Rinn was never known for manners or for kindness and that was about to show, "You can put that back on, thanks." Terra's words echoed in her head, maybe it -was- time to stop coming here. Judgement contorted her features and she wouldn't even try to hide it. Everything about this encounter was cringe. A violent jerk freed her shovel from the dirt before she took a wide circle around the unturned grave. The gap between her and Ernest pulled her to the edge for a closer inspection, it was empty, just like her soul. "Disappointing." As for the graves being perma-bare, that was why she made a point to hit the yard almost nightly, though the mausoleum usually provided a good yield. Her secrets. Perhaps Larket was better for tonight and less hoppin.

Terra was quite familiar with death. The one that had made her...this way...was made of nothing darkness and death. Ernest was something else, something that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up when she did finally take a good, hard look. Vaguely, she registered Rinn's abrupt laughter and it almost stifled her lesser instincts. Without prompting, she fed on that brief bit of emotion the grave-robber provided and found some semblance of the kids these days referred to as 'chill'. This is what happened when you didn't heed warnings, she thought, but she'd dwell on that at another time. "Helping...hand..." Now she laughed and it sounded just a little like Rinn's, though it ended just as suddenly as it was brought on. "What are you doing...?" That was to Ernest and then... Well... she watched Rinn approach and felt the tinge of disgust and disappointed she put out. "What are YOU doing?" And she had thought she was the weird one, looking to dig up lost secrets.

Ernest cracked his knuckles and grinned. The Helpin' Hand popped out of its pocket to wave at Terra, seeing as she had mentioned it, then gave her a thumbs-up before disappearing back inside the longcoat. "D'you want me ta give you a whole thesis, or d'you wanna jes' gimme some space an' see fer yourself?" the undead cowboy asked, moving to a squatting position and turning to the back of his book, where some very fresh sigils seemed to have been written recently. "Shouldn't take much longer'n a few minutes." He turned a glance over his shoulder to Rinn, making sure she wasn't going to try and sneak up behind him with that shovel. "Who knows, y'might learn somethin'. I know I will."

A Giant Spider scampered into view from the north.

Rinn wasn't the biggest fan of creepy crawlies and that was the embodiment of Ernest's helping hand. As it reemerged focused on Terra she lifted her shovel high over her head ready to shatter every bit of bone it possessed. Ernest looked like an easy target too, he was decaying before her eyes, one or two wacks should knock his head to his shoulders, bye bye neck. Plus there was already a hole, a simple kick and she'd be on to her next problem. Ernest shot a glance in her direction and she grinned, almost innocently. "Aw feck it." She managed before swinging down with all her force and she showed no signs of stopping, remember whack-a mole? It was nothing personal but at the same time it was all personal. This was her turf and anyone up turning graves was a threat to her wallet and an example would be made. After a few vertical swings she'd twist back to turn her shovel into a make-shift bat, her intentions to knock his skull clean into the nosebleed sections, home run baby.

A Giant Spider scampered into view from the east.

Terra thought about warning Ernest, but she's not a fan of baseball so she chose that moment to take a step or two back. The mummy looked like he may be a mess if he fell to pieces and she didn't trust that if he did somehow survive, that he would know she was not involved. She just came for an eye, for crying out loud. She'd never drink in that bar again. "Whoever survives, could I borrow a shovel? I need an eye." And possibly a brain.

Ernest had just enough time to throw his free hand up before the shovel came down, putting his forearm and sleeve between his head and the improvised weapon. Surprisingly, instead of just impacting soft leather and fragile bones underneath, it'd feel sort of like hitting a shield or an invisible wall. The longcoat's glow intensified briefly under each hit, and by the time she brought her arms back for the horizontal swing he'd already stashed the book in an internal pocket of the jacket. "Well now," he said, and with a movement that seemed like it was somehow missing a step in the middle he drew his hand-crossbow. His free hand moved to block the baseball swing with his longcoat again and his legs propelled him back up and forward, leaning into the hit to give it just that little bit less momentum before it struck. It wasn't comfortable, but given that he took it on the defensive barrier projected by his jacket, it wasn't debilitating, either. The free hand, with that same lightning-fast movement, descended to latch onto the shovel and try to drag the woman in close, and at point-blank range he'd fire a single crossbow bolt with the intention to sink it right in her knee. The weapon was runed as well--reinforcement runes on the limbs, to give it a much higher draw weight than a weapon of that size might otherwise have, increasing the bolt's velocity and thus damage-dealing potential.

Rinn was a brawler so she knew about keeping light feet and out of reach, so when the shovel was snatched she let go and jumped back. The bolt embedded into the dirt merely an inch from her boots, "Hey! What's the idea?" She would feign utter shock as she jumped back sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, "T-There was a spider." Big puppy dog eyes found Ernest with a pout, "Arachnophobic here." A hand pressed to her chest, "I'm in a support group." Her free hand patted down her body as if looking for something, "I've got a pamphlet somewhere." She assured through a bold faced lie - all the while keeping distance. "You psychopath. Just wait til my husband hears." Terra is addressed and slowly approached, "Can you believe the nerve of this guy?" A thumb was jutted in Ernest's direction.

Terra blinked a few times to determined what she had witnessed. There were otherworldly things and then there were these two. Oddly, they seemed like they would have been good partners aside from the whole killing each other thing... Actually, that added to it. Terra remained neutral, rocked back on her heels, whispered a jaunty tune, prepared herself to sample from whoever didn't make it - why let a meal go to waste? Though she doubted there would be much to feast on if Rinn proved to be successful since Ernest did not seem to be much of a snack. As quickly as it started, it appeared to be over, and Rinn's explanation or excuse or whatever it was had the elf-turned-vamp in disbelief. This girl, she was TRULY crazy. But who was Terra, standing in a graveyard with a mummy, a dead body and an intent to dig up an eye to judge? Instead, she peered over at Ernest, "Did you want to finish what you were saying?" To Rinn, once she was near enough, she'd whisper. "I just want to see if he finds a way to bone it." That caused her to snort. Bone. Grave yard.

Ernest was left holding a shovel and a crossbow, and all of his combat reflexes having gone off to put a stop to this... well, sort of -had-, but not in a way that made him feel particularly safe. Still, he was, for the moment, attacker-free. Rather than offer the shovel to either of them--that would be silly--he instead holstered his weapon with a twirling flourish and then tossed the shovel down into the now-empty grave. If she wanted her weapon back, she could go get it, and that way he'd at least have some notice before she went after him again. "I was askin' you that, earlier. Way I see it," he pulled his book from its pocket, the movement revealing the Helpin' Hand hanging out near the holster, already priming it for another shot just in case, "I can explain myself, or y'all can jus' watch an' figure it out. Take longer to explain than it will ta jus' do, so I'm gonna start, alright?" With that, he once more flipped to the back of his book and placed his fingers on a few sigils. With a brief utterance of his command word, a foot-long stake extruded itself from the dirt, hardened into stone, and then sharpened itself. Another sigil and another command word, and emerging from the black smoke of his jacket's aura came another hand--this one ethereal, transparent, shadowy. This hand drifted down to the stake, and began drawing a very small sigil on the head of it, engraving whatever magic symbol Ernest was looking for in the surface with pinpoint control. The man grinned and hooked his thumb at it, glancing over his shoulder at them while they watched. "Helpin' Hand mark two. Not as great with th' physical assistance, but much better fer magic-work." As soon as it was finished, Ernest raised the stake and, with a violent thrusting motion, rammed it inside the man's corpse, upwards from the stomach into the ribcage, making sure it was sunk all the way in. "That oughta do it."

Rinn pouted once more about her shovel but her disappointment was soon pacified when the large splinters of the casket were noted. Ernest talked and Rinn yawned, "How long is this going to take?" There was a twist of her wrist and a glance to her sundial bracelet. Soon enough the spikes penatrated the corpse and Rinn snorted. A gesture and a laugh was directed to the mummy while words aimed for Terra, "He found a way." Casually she'd move towards a wooden stake disguising it as looking for a seat. "You're the worst magician ever. Please tell me you don't do kids parties." Rinn wasn't a very social creature so the longer this dragged on the great chance another assault would be under way, "So this eyeball?" Terra was addressed once again before she stared down Ernest. It was clear she was suggesting to pluck it from the mummy. Poor guy.

Terra is fascinated for a moment. The use of magic is not beyond her. Their trades aren't that dissimliar. After all, they're both encouraging life to a certain degree. Only Terra isn't sure that's what Ernest is doing and frankly, the stake is a little bit of a sore spot for her. So much so that she rubbed the phantom pain from her own chest while she watched. Rinn kept her amused enough to remain near, but she did cross her arms and subtly put a hand near the hilt of her own knife in case... you know... spiders. The plot to steal Ernest's eyeball is intriguing but she's certain that Steadmen might notice the discoloration so she declined. "Nah, this one is special. Lost a bet. You know how it goes." She did take a small step closer to get a better look. If Ernest was doing what she suspected, she needed it to see it for herself. There was someone she needed to bring back and if he could do that...

Shishi ’s daughter, with hair braids done by Aarika, strolls happily down the graveyard path in the direction of Kelay until she hears a bit of commotion out in front of her. The shovel carrying blonde lowers her head and creeps forward until Ernest and the two women come into view. She moves quickly to put a tall monument between her and the small crowd, peeking around it to watch the magic being used by the mummified cowboy. Then she cringes as her resurrected skeleton comes clattering onto the scene, making a non-negligible amount of noise with it’s chattering teeth. The undead creature is of elven origin and has its arms wrapped around its ribcage as if it is trying to fend off bitter cold. Oh, and is that Terra? Great… Maybe they’re all too preoccupied and a chilly skeleton isn’t out of the ordinary enough in this graveyard to bring their attention over here… Maybe...

Ernest shot Rinn a glare as he climbed back to his feet, flipping back through the book to locate one more sigil. "I'm gettin' ready t'do th' thing, y'insufferable varmint, hold yer horses." Fingers flicked in a wave before he pressed the sigil and once more spoke his word, grinning down at the corpse as the book fired a wave of multicolored light at his project which enveloped it briefly, then faded. Ernest snapped his book shut and made a pulling-on-puppet-strings motion with his free hand, and the corpse jerked upwards to its feet, eyes still closed. "Perfect," he said, his grin turning somewhat more sinister, and then he snapped his fingers--and froze. The shadowy smoke winked out on both his hat and longcoat, and because his body was just slightly off-balance, after a moment it fell to the ground with a thunk. The minion remained standing, though--motionless. For a moment, everything was quiet--until the clattering of a skeleton broke the stillness. The minion's eyes opened, but little else occured on Ernest's end.

Rinn rolled her eyes as Ernest hurled names and dirty looks in her direction, "You're being really, really, uncool." She scoffed before her eyes glazed over. She knew this encounter had to end eventually, yet time crawled on. The clattering of bones had Rinn exclaim in vularities while throwing her arms up, "What is this, meet at the graveyard night?" Never had she seen so much activity and this boiled her blood, child or not...Oh it was Leralynn. Back to Ernest. What a bad time and bad company to check out around. "Now you're just asking for it." She groaned wondering if the whole spider routine could work for a second time. Instead of going in for the kill she'd bend down to collect bits of stone. Of course she'd flick rock after rock towards the comatose Ernest while casting her own insults, "Yeah, his eyes are pretty jaundicey...You can't give that as a gift. Unless the point is disappointment." She snickered, "Which seems to be the point of tonight." The grave robber grunted in annoyance before she patted down her form for that rum flask of hers. She gulped down the amber liquid as if it were the nectar of life, hopefully that would improve her current situation - if not she'd just go talk up some John and mug him in an alley.

Terra was going to have words with Steadmen about what he was putting in those drinks. Or maybe it was being back in Vailkrin. She had been away from the creepys and oddities for too long and this immersion therapy was pushing the empath to her limits. Did the mummy assume control of the dead body? If not, did he die? Rinn was chucking rocks, did one hit an achilles heel? "Why is this place so--" the clattering skeleton called her attention and she looked towards it and wondered why it seemed so familiar. "Yeah, that adds up." It did not take much to deduce that Orange and co had to be nearby but there was quite enough within her own six foot diameter that she didn't seek out who all had joined. "Hello?" That was asked of the minion, just to gauge the response. She had waited this long to see what would happen might as well... then she took a breath and smelled rum and looked over at Rinn. "I don't know if I'm scared of you or if I want to be you."

Shishi has surely told his daughter about Ernest before, but has she ever seen him in person? Maybe at a Hero of Freedom match… Maybe. This guy has a pretty unique style and look so at the very least Orange is suspicious that this may be the very undead guy trying to avenge himself against her father. One more peek can’t hurt… Rinn sees her. They’re related somehow, and mom hates her. Terra has seen the skeleton before so she’s basically been ousted. The fourteen year old comes out from behind the marker and takes a few steps further down the path giving a weak wave of her hand before hopping up onto another gravestone, taking a pretty disrespectful seat. She has a curious nature, especially where necromancy is involved, so if none of them are going to actually acknowledge her presence, then she’s just going to watch, becoming a blatant audience with her legs swinging idly as they don’t quite reach the dirt from her perch on the tombstone of ‘Jaques Chateaux’.

Ernest remained still. The minion, on the other hand, moved its eyes in response to Terra's question, and then, carefully, flicked its fingers--in the exact same movement the mummy had made right before pressing the sigil. Its head rolled around its neck, and then it grinned, and the expression was unmistakable. Faint wisps of dark smoke swirled out of the wound in its chest, surrounding it, until it was cloaked in dark mist that took the exact shape of the mummy's longcoat and hat. "Disappointment," Ernest growled, turning to face the assembled ladies and stretching, "is th' furthest thing from my mind." The voice was different--how could it not be, it was using a totally different, not-dried-up trachea and diaphragm--but the accent was very much there. "I've been buildin' up ta this. Researchin' methods of puppeteerin' corpses. Figurin' out how ta see what they see. Even learned some shadow magic ta wrap around a body an' cast from it." He gestured, and the shadowy Hand materialized out of the ghostly apparition of his hat and waved at them. "I think I'm gonna call this one... th' Shade. What'cha think?"

Rinn scoffed and shoved to her feet. What did she think? Any other person should be impressed, perhaps encourage his studies but Rinn wasn't any other person. Rinn was a stone cold bitch, "I think it's bloody awful." She blurted while pushin to her upright, "For fecksake, don't quit your day job, mate." Her sentence was finished alongside her rum and a saddened shake of her flask confirmed the worst, empty....again, like her soul. "So you shove spikes up it's butt from the ground, right?" She questioned with the intent to aggravate the corpse that sucked the life from her with each second she remained. "How you gonna make it walk?" This was preposterous, at least to this redhead. A grunt of disbelief and a stagger had her slinging her pack back over her shoulders, "Look here, 'cool guy'." The last two words dripped with sarcasm, "If I catch you here when I'm trying to work again I'll make sure I kill that next spider. Get me?" She wouldn't wait for a response, why should she? With a shrug she headed to the Corpse. "Later." was her farewell to the others. It was rum o'clock.

Terra dropped her hands to her side once she was somewhere between Rinn and Ernest/The Shade/The Helpin Hand which was not a wise choice should Rinn decide she was done waiting. Terra is enterained and as she was willing to eat one of these two just moments ago to avoid waste, she could appreciate the decision to desecrate a grave or two for personal purposes. "s***!" She exclaimed suddenly and only felt the tiniest tinge of guilt for the profanity uttered in front of Orange - she's heard worse by now, surely. "The eye." Rinn is leaving but that's of no matter, because her parting threat leads Terra to believe she'll have a way of locating her for a short assignment in the near future. This leaves her to grimace as she watched Ernest. "Intersting but what's the point? I'm dead and walking and I did it with a lot less effort." Well, dying was not something she would recommend but that's netiher here nor there. Finally, she looked at Orange, around Orange, around the skeleton and into darkness. "Should you be here alone? There's a.." Well, she is not sure what Ernest and his latest creation should be labeled so she just sort of gestured with a hand towards them, "There's this thing."

Shishi ’s little witch puffs out her cheeks while listening to Ernest. “The black tides…” she mutters, unimpressed, while taking mental notes on the methods used to raise th’ shade. Rinn unloads on Ernest and Leralynn throws her hand up over her mouth to stifle a laugh. The graverobber has to pass by Orange and her summoned skeleton, and while Rinn is on her way, the fourteen year old gives a wave of her shovel towards the woman as a farewell. “See ya’.” Leralynn is kind of a smartass to White and first points lazily to her skeleton, whom we know from Steadmen’s reaction to it is fairly dangerous, and then asks a question in response, “Should ‘-you-?” She sways a bit on top of the gravestone and shrugs lightly, “I only think that guy is dangerous if he finds out you know Blue, White.” That little tid-bit is punctuated by a wicked grin, and Terra might think that a skull wasp wasn’t enough to cover up her transgression from a few days ago...

Ernest could not believe how the woman had so violently missed the point. The spike had been crafted from the ground, sure, but he'd pushed it in himself, it wasn't like he'd anchored it to the dirt. To showcase this, he started to walk after her--but then decided it wasn't worth it, and stopped after a few steps. "She'll try," was all he said, and then he turned his attention back towards the other two. "Hmph. Nothing?" He put his hands on his hips, he'd been working hard at this, and they were more focused on the eye, and whoever that Blue character was. The word pinged with familiarity, he pushed it to the back of his mind for a minute. Apparently his Shade was less of a big deal than he'd anticipated. "Fine, whatever." The minion froze, and the spooky shadow jacket winked out of existence, the mummy shooting back to his feet. "I don't need y'all's applause." That was a lie. Blue. Why did the color blue sound so familiar. "Who's Blue?" he asked, stepping over closer, just so he could be at a more casual conversation distance. "Somebody I know?"

Terra is not going to apologize again and that is made clear by the look she gave the kid before she scrubbed her hands down her face. There's a lesson in here somewhere... The grin Orange mustered up did have her feeling a little uneasy. What did Blue have to do with the dead guy? Stupid question. Terra is certain she could probably find a few reasons. Ernest's transformation caught her attention again and while it was still beyond her what happened and why and the usefulness, she did indulge him a little - because dead or not, he still apparently had the same ego of any other male. "It does seem like it could be useful. Do you retain any memories of the deceased? Powers?" What could the dead do for you seemed like her line of thought. His own query just made her shoulders jump upwards and then fall back down after a brief hitch. "Not important. A friend." Liar. She cringed. "Someone I know from around these parts." Another lie. "Someone I used to know." Truth.

Shishi feels a shiver roll down his spine and can’t help but wonder why. Was there a draft in the Thorne Manor? Back here in the graveyard Leralynn waits intently on answers to Terra’s questions to the desiccated necromancer, curious herself about what one might get from such a technique. Of course she does not elaborate anymore on her father, The Blue Demon, instead enjoying watching Terra struggle to describe Shishi as vaguely as she can. She puffs out her cheeks though in a way that The Titan of Winter is known to, now impatiently waiting on Ernest’s details. He seems to like to show off, so maybe her eagerness to learn about what he just did might egg him on...

Ernest shook his head when questioned about memories and powers. "Ain't that kinda thing. Nobody home in that there body 'til I show up. Far as I can tell I got mosta my own stuff, but nothin' he was is still in there. 's jes' a shell." He gestured at it, and it made a drawing motion, pulling an imaginary crossbow from an imaginary holster at its hip. "I'm real interested in figurin' out th' -range- on 'im, though. Further I can get 'im from me, th' more useful he becomes." With that, he turned his attention back towards this "White" woman. "Y'jes gave me three different answers to one question, an' didn't even bother on th' second. Blue 'is name? Somethin's buggin' me about it, like there's somethin' I'm fergitten'."

Ernest said OOC, "Gah, I am so sorry about the pause. D:"

Terra did seem a little disappointed by the answer but she still appeared to be mulling the events of the evening over in her mind. "Huh. I'd maybe kill someone that day and then take over, fresher. Plus you can avoid unsightly wounds so the good folks in other towns don't refuse service." Pragmatic, even when suggesting murder but she's nothing but honest with her feedback even when it was not requested. Terra looked in the direction of Orange again and there was a brief moment where she thought about leaving the girl to answer and clean up her own mess. "I don't know what he goes by now. Titan or something. As I mentioned, I don't know that guy anymore." At Orange, "Don't you have lessons early in the morning? Shouldn't you be going?"

Shishi is probably wondering why the kid isn’t back yet. Maybe he’s on his way here right now. Or maybe he’s looking for the source of that draft. Whatever he’s doing, he isn’t here right this moment, and that is probably still more of a positive for Orange and White than it is a problem. Leralynn raises a brow when Blue is identified as The Titan, that might actually be enough for Ernest, so long as he’s heard about the biggest sporting event in Lithrydel in the last four years. “Hmm…” Orange looks up, thinking to herself, “Maybe you’re right. I’ll leave you two alone?” She looks like she is about to hop down from her morbid ledge, but then stops, “Then again… This is kind of a lesson if you think about it. You know?” What a sweet smile she presents Terra along with that question.

Ernest scrunched up his face. Titan. That rang a bell, too. What was he -missing-...? Details to sort out in a moment. For now, the implication that he could impersonate an -actual person- hadn't actually crossed his mind yet, and that was an idea worth considering all on its own. "Hm. Mimicking other people does seem like all kindsa useful. I'll have ta think about it. Might get me closer ta Shishi one day, since he ain't expectin' jes' anyone ta be me." He couldn't help but chuckle, the sound was dark and foreboding. "Th' look on 'is face when the schmuck on th' street suddenly wears my hat. I'll have ta commission art of it. Maybe a statue... yeah, I'd call this a lesson alright." Wait a second. Shishi was the Titan of Winter. And the Blue Demon. Blue. Titan. Shishi. Puzzle pieces started falling into place, and the look on Ernest's face slowly transitioned to recognition.

Terra looked at Orange, grimly. "It is a lesson for you. You still have a lot of growing up to do." And then she doesn't look at Orange again for the duration of her time there. One doesn't need to be an empath to sense the disappointment and frustration there but the bulk doesn't fall on the shoulders of any one person present. Leralynn is disregarded other than a mental note to find her dad and give him a piece of her mind, and instead she focused on Ernest, watched as he evidently followed the bread crumbs that Shishi's daughter had lay out for him. "Based on her desire to cause trouble and your slightly unhinged rant there, I'm going to say there's history with you all and that's fine. I've got my own with that guy." Boy, did she. That aside. "I also have a way to continue to fund your research and work and some odd jobs I'd think you'd be good for so we can either have this out now or..." her hands spread, showing that she didn't exactly bring a gun to this fight that she doesn't even understand, "we meet in Gualon and talk through business opportunities?" She'd leave that for him but she does tense, prepared for either answer.

Shishi will hopefully be informed by Orange about this new strategy of Ernest’s where he inhabits a freshly dead person’s body. Even knowing that this technique could be used by the mummy in such a way will probably only serve to make The Blue Demon unnecessarily paranoid. What is he supposed to do, never be around strangers again? What about Titan Tuesdays? The guy starts to put things together and Leralynn waggles her shovel in his direction like ‘now he’s got it.’ Terra scolds her and the half-elf teen frowns a bit angrily. It starts to get cold in the area around Lynn’s shivering skeleton and this time she does hop off the gravestone and turn her back to the two undead people, “Fine. I’ll let him know you’re headed back to -Gualon- too.” She huffs and starts in the direction Rinn had left in, the chilly set of elf bones slowly following...

Ernest opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by White's proposal, which got him to shut his mouth again. After a brief moment of consideration--during which he noted that the kid was clearly in cahoots with Shishi, somehow, but also that going after children was universally considered a Jerk Move--he nodded and extended a hand to shake with the woman. "Name's Ernest," he said, reaching into a pocket in his longcoat and pulling out a business card for her to take. "Ernest Crane, Villainous Consultant. Services include Curses, Schemes, and General Mayhem for hourly rates." It also mentioned office hours at the Necromancer's Guild headquarters and the number of the mailbox that could be used to deliver letters to him. All in all, a very professional job.

Terra doesn't miss Orange's parting shot and she'd be tempted for a brief moment to say more but wisely doesn't. The guy in the graveyard held her attention for a beat while he pondered over the positives of their situation and eventually chose the side she hoped would win out. His own introduction is of interest and she does accept both hand and then card. "Terra. I'll have my people contact yours." It's an echo of her past but she summoned and served it well. The card is looked over and she seemed satisfied that at least she would not be doing this with an knock-kneed newbie. "I may even have some personal favors to engage you in..." The thought of paying him to wreak havoc on Shishi was tempting but supressed.........for now. "If you'll excuse me, I have to deal with quite a number of things, the first of which being the missing eye. I look forward to working together." She'd stay for any parting words he'd have to offer but after that she would head out, ready to serve up some apologies to the keep at the Corpse.

Shishi 's daughter kind of slows down to listen when she hears White's voice, but she continues on her path home and does not look back.