RP:Reunion and Revelations

Part of the Welcome To The End of Eras Arc

Summary: Hoping to get a jump on the art of fighting, Rumiko wanders into the Arena to study the sparring. Instead, she finds herself in the company of family- both known and brand new. Mahri suggests a relocation to the Corpse for drinks where they are joined by Quintessa and, momentarily the new priest in town. Some words turn argumentative, while others enlightening.

Dark Arena

The arena is filled with various corpses, both dead and undead alike. Several zombies seem to be carrying the corpses out of the arena, returning them to the masters they served. Many bodies here look disfigured and ill, clearly abominations constructed by necromancers to serve in the gladiator-like battles held here in the arena. Several of the other bodies though are completely normal, those of which were likely living participants that did not succeed in winning their matches. A battle must have recently gone on here, as the crowds of people step out of the entrance of the area. To the south is the way out, while to the north is a path leading to the back of the arena, and the castle beyond that.

Lita is standing in the seat of the Champion throne of skulls near the top of the spectators section, looking down into the arena, watching various states of the dead and dying scramble about. Dark eyes flicker left and right, as if she were calculating some complicated math problem in her head (she's not, math is hard). "I just will never understand the point." She says seemingly to herself. She is barefoot per usual, wearing a little black sundress, hands on her hips. "Okay sure, there's an argument for functionality," She rolls her eyes here, "maybe some are cute. Some." She lifts a hand to motion at the calico kitten wandering the stands nearby. It is wearing a little green collar, its tail bristled as it sniffs at leftover bits of what is hopefully food, and is clearly ignoring her. "But you get it, right? I mean, when was the last time you wore shoes?" The kitten lifts its head to meow at her, as if just now realizing she'd been talking to it. Rude. She tugs a folded paper from the leather bracer on her left arm and shows it to the kitten. It can probably read from any distance. "You're gonna have to listen better if we want you to not die."

Leralynn sits in the bleacher stands that line the arena keeping a careful eye on the comings and goings of the undead that shuffle about. The disgruntled hoard that has been growing within Vailkrin typically only bleeds this far north of the necropolis in dribs and drabs, but they are here and they are the focus of the young half-elf’s attention. The Orange Witch wears her enchanted cloak that masks her presence from the undead, the enoki mushrooms that grow out of the shoulders of the garment being the focus of the magical blurring effect. To one side of her an undead dormouse with a piece of charcoal in its mouth scribbles down dictated notes from the blonde necromancer into a dark covered journal. To the other side of the girl is an armored undead guardian, standing silent sentry should the cloak’s magic fail and the unwanted attention of the hostile undead is gained. It is unclear which of Lita or Leralynn arrived here first, but between the cloak and Orange’s intense focus on whatever research she’s doing, it isn’t too wild of a coincidence that they haven’t noticed each other yet.

Rumiko 's entrance to the arena was quiet. She'd come from the direction of the castle and, though she had kept mostly to the darker bits of shadow on her walk, had made no attempt to hide herself from any onlookers she passed. Her feet were bare again, thought against the clinks and echoes of the arena it wasn't as if the tapping of her heels would announce her presence much anyway. She again wore a legging and corset combo, though this time she had forgone the longer sleeves now that the evidence of her struggle in the forest had vanished. Under one arm was bound stack of papers and a quill set, and the other held to the railing as she made her way down the steps and deeper into the heart of chaos. If she was going to learn to fight with her new abilities, she should probably get a closer- and less lethal- view. Pointed ears picked up Lita's one-sided conversation before she came into view, and there would come a shifting of focus to find the shewolf the nymph knew she was tied to.

Mahri || It seems that the arena is the place to be, whether the visitors notice each other or not but one thing is for sure, Mahri had come here with a goal in mind. Finding Lita. She didn’t come into the arena near the throne that would seat the champion of, perhaps, the next Blood Bowl and she wasn’t close to Orange or Rumiko, and she sure as hells wasn’t interested in the undead below wandering around. No, silver-grey eyes scanned across from her position, left then right, before turning and scanning up to see the vampire talking to.. A kitten? The wolf frowns wondering where that new pet had come from. Movement below catches her attention and Mahri turns to see if she was imagining things but now, there’s Rumiko – because the alpha would recognize her sister-in-law anywhere, walking out. To say that she hadn’t quite noticed Orange yet wouldn’t last long because while Rumiko is doing whatever down in the arena, Mahri is walking up, past the row of bleacher’s Lyralynn is occupied in, to make her way up to the Champion Throne. Mahri’s eyes slide over the cloaked figure and for a moment she pauses with a frown trying to figure out what’s familiar. Is it the undead babysitter? Certainly not the cloak or scribbling mouse.

Lita remains convinced that the Orange Witch is a figment of everyone's imagination. She'd been pretty out of it during the dragon hunting trip with Leo and Lora that the girl had supposedly accompanied them on. Perhaps she'd simply hallucinated the mention of her. Neither pirate nor mouse had mentioned the girl after the little excursion, after all. The armored guardian isn't so strange a thing to see. She was used to Kas having his planted eyes in the strangest of places and forms these days. It's the little kitten that seems to take an interest in the dormouse, but Lita scoops him up before the critter can give chase. It meows in futile protest but Lita has fixed her attentions on Rumiko's entrance now. The girl is at least dry for this visit. She's about to go say hi when she catches scent of the familiar shewolf and she hops down from the throne to meet Mahri with a fierce one-armed hug and a kiss. "Hey stranger." She murmurs affectionately before nodding towards Rumiko some yards away. "Figured she'd make her way out to the island to see you at some point, but I'm a little surprised to see her up here."

Leralynn watches Rumiko enter and pays attention to the interaction, if any, between the vampire and the common undead present here. The nymph and The Orange Witch are related in some convoluted way that is typical of the wide branching Lyastri family tree, but the young blonde doesn’t have much time to consider this connection because here comes Mahri. The girl doesn’t wait for her former (current?) clanmate to recognize her before letting out a, “Gwah~! Mah!” If that identifying sound isn’t enough for the lycan woman to recognize the witch then things are about to get awkward because Leralynn shoves herself up off of her seat and rushes to deliver a hug, bouncing down the steps towards the approaching rogue. It’s awkward either way because Lita cuts to the front of the hug line, leaving the necromancer standing straight up, waiting her turn with hands behind her back. With nothing left to write, the undead dormouse scurries back inside the open messenger bag that Leralynn had resting on the bench beside her, making the resurrected scribe slightly safer from the feline predator…

Rumiko's scanning would indeed be fruitful, because no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the alpha appear. Not that she would know Mahri's pack role. How long had it been since they last spoke? Time seemed to blur together even worse now than it did before she'd... died wasn't the right word. She really should learn the proper title for that had happened to her. There was a brief wave and a moments hesitation before she turned and reversed her direction. The climb was slow, more out of nerves and caution than any sort of weariness of the body, and there was a second moment of hesitation as Mahri's name was called out from, well she didn't quite know. Her gaze falls to the armored Death Knight for a moment as if pondering it as the source. If Mahri ever wondered about herself being popular, well she was currently the center of the arena's gravitational pull. At least for the more sentient beings within it. A harder look was offered Lita's way as she finally made her way across and up, though it wasn't exactly hatred in those harlequin depths. "Fancy seeing you here." She hadn't seen the other vampire since the treehouse incident, and that too was before her turning. How even long had that been? There was a third scent, one she couldn't quite place but did not remind her of the undead bodies lingering about.

Mahri leans into the hug and following kiss, eyeing the kitten in Lita’s other arm, clearly not happy with her confinement, before following the nod to the arena and Rumiko. Oh, but there’s Leralynn, her yell bringing a big smile to the she-wolf’s face. Sorry, Lita, this is a reunion of sorts. Pulling away from her lover, the woman doesn’t hesitate to pull Orange in for a tight hug, mindeful of the undead dormouse, “Ler! It’s been too long. You’ve grown up! Has your dad noticed yet?” Silver eyes sparkle with delight as she pulls away to sweep a look over the young woman standing there now. And now, Rumiko. It was a family reunion of sorts. “Well, hey there Rumi. Glad to see you, too. What were you doing down there?” She juts her chin towards the arena. “Do you know Lita and Ler?”

Lita glances over her shoulder at the sound of Mahri's name. Awfully shrill and tiny for a death knight, but who was she to judge Kasyr's creations? She's about to offer Rumiko a greeting when Mahri peels away to... hug the air...? Oh, that's normal. Lita lofts a brow at the scene. How hard had Mahri hit her head during that duel, anyway? "We met." Lita says finally, dark eyes finding Rumiko again, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips in knowing amusement. Did vampires float? No, that was witches. She glances briefly at the wrinkled paper in hand and then brandishes it for Rumiko's perusal. A flyer promoting the upcoming Titans of Winter tournament. She might've swiped it. "Casing the joint early?" She asks the vampire. And wait, that was different. She offers a quizzical look, just now realizing- and noticing- the changes. She'd been, well, not undead the last time they'd met. Lita catches sight of the lack of shoes and nods suddenly. "See, she gets it." She says to the kitten, who is scrambling to be let down again and Lita finally relents and crouches to let him wander to sniff the newcomers.

Leralynn beams during the hug and maintains the sweet smile while Mahri looks her over. The nineteen year old half elf striking a little pose, dipping one shoulder and raising the opposite hand slightly. “Aye,” She says, “but probably only because I kicked him out of the house,” referring to The Thorne Estate that transferred via trust over to her and Yellow a little over a year ago on their eighteenth birthday. On the one hand, is very pleased with the effectiveness of her magic that she’s painstakingly poured into those little, undead sense obscuring enoki mushrooms, but on the other she’s getting a little sick of being inadvertently ignored. The young necromancer takes inventory of those surrounding her now, including her own undead guardian, and feels a sense of big dog privilege that prompts her to untie the cape near her neck and toss the thing off of her shoulders onto a nearby arena seat. The enchantment’s effect leaves her immediately, making the blonde perfectly visible to the vampires and lesser undead in the arena. She’s real and she’s wearing shoes.

Lita 's immediate reaction to the appearance of anyone would be to punch it. But it's a little blonde girl and Mahri had presumably just hugged it. So instead she throws the tournament flyer at the girl instead, calming her sudden surprised nerves in the process.

Rumiko || If the nymph was confused as to why Mahri was hugging and speaking to an imaginary friend, she tried really hard to not let it show. At the introductions, Rumiko offers a dip of her head, completely believing that the kitten's name is Ler. "Ah, yes. Partially, at least." If you can call attempted homicide an introduction, anyway. The offered flyer was taken and offered a quick once-over, "I suppose it could be something like that. I have been informed I need to learn how to fight to protect myself." Something about being part of the royal family, and all that. "Thought I would see what was going on, try to watch something that was easier to follow." Because Kasyr and Quintessa attacking one another in the forest- regardless of reason - had been too much to her to even attempt to learn from. The comment about her shoe-lessness was overshadowed by the sudden appearance of the blonde, and there would be no covering that not-subtle jump that sent the nymph leaping backwards and away from their small collection. "Well that makes a lot more sense." She had heard the voice and scented the teen, but now she took a better- first really- look over the girl. "I suppose *this* is the 'Ler' you were referring to?" Her words then were to Mahri, though there was no space for an answer before a dip of her head had her own introduction offered to the orange witch. "Anyone that can make Mahri smile like that is worth knowing. I am Rumiko Lyastri." There came an odd look then, "Er, Azakhaer. I keep forgetting that part."

Mahri snorts at Lita’s comment about Rumi being barefoot. She lets the kitten sniff her. Normally cats don’t really care for her much. Most animals, honestly. Mahri steps back when Orange takes off the cloak of fungi and tosses it onto a seat, just in time to avoid being pinged by the flying flyer. Clearing her throat slightly, Mahri looks back at Leralynn with a quirked brow. “You two inherited the estate?” Mah probably wouldn’t go back there any time soon. “Why did you kick Blue out, though?” Mahri is a bit curious about Lita and Rumiko’s reactions to Ler, so she frowns at them. “Well, yes. Who did you think I meant?” She is, obviously unaware of the enchantments on the cloak. Rumiko’s corrected introduction has a brow raising again with curiosity. So much here that she’s not aware of. There would be time to catch up. “Well, learning to fight is a good idea regardless of the reason.”

Lita also lofts a brow at Rumiko for that amended introduction. How is anyone supposed to keep up with either of those family trees? Lyastri/Azakhear. More branches than, well, something with a lot of branches! Lita points to the kitten when Rumiko strives to clarify that the blonde girl is Ler. "This is Lil Kas X." She says, as if this is just a known fact. "He's in training too. Gonna turn him into a decent little mischief maker, yet!" He's not so good at it yet. As he sneezes on Mahri's boot in undeniably adorable fashion. Lita sighs. "What kind of fighting defense are you going for?" She asks Rumiko. Mahri and You're-A-Wizard-Ler are catching up. She'll give them a few and entertain. "Magic? Straight brawling? Weaponry?"

Leralynn misses catching the fluttering paper on her first try, but manages to grab it with the second swipe of her hand as it slowly falls. She puffs out her cheeks looking at it. Every time she’s seen her father over the past year and a half, he’s recently returned from the plane of shadows and sporting a new little corruption from there that has added onto their family’s chaotic curse. She’s almost certain Blue’s mind is not on fighting in a tournament, especially after he skipped last year’s title fight while away on one of those aforementioned dark excursions. She passes the flier onto Rumiko during their introduction, “Leralynn Thorne.” She introduces herself with her former teacher’s surname as she so often does, “Pleasure to meet you.” The Lyastri name gives her a slight pause, and the Azakhaer name earns a narrowing of oceanic blue eyes. “You’re related to Uncle Magikrios then?” To Mahri, Orange nods, “Aye. Tene left it to us a while back, Blue was acting as the caretaker.” She smirks, “I didn’t really kick him out, but Kas did banish him from Vailkrin, you know, so it’s just funnier to say that.” The necromancer’s eyes bounce back and forth between the three other women. Were all three of them signing up for Titans? How could she finesse her way into becoming the agent for each of them? The gears are turning in that blonde head, almost visibly so…

Rumiko just blinks at Mahri for the question, though a moment later she looks down to the cloak that had been discarded. She could feel an aura of magic from it, but she was not one with the ability to read the enchantment to know if that was what had kept the girl hidden, though she was pretty confident in that guess. "Yes, which is why the study." She glanced towards the bottom of the arena, and frowned at the movement there. Undead were far less interesting to watch. If Lita was confused by the nymphs family tree, she would be even more so should the name Blackwell be added to the mix. It would seem the unseelie had a penchant for collecting names. To Lita, "My magic is currently... chaotic and unmanageable. For the time being I suppose it would be safer to stick with weapons or fists, though it had been so long since I have had to do either." Liar. Leralynn earns a smile after her full name if offered, followed by a raise brow, "Your uncle Magikrios is my brother, which would make you a niece then." Her family was steadily growing, it would seem. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Mahri wrinkles her nose at the kitten, cute as it is, and inches away, closer to Orange. She’s curious about Rumi’s answer but also what’s been happening with Blue. “Banished?” she remembered hearing something about that. You’d think that a woman who’s trade is information she’d know more. She doesn’t, but mostly out of respect for Kasyr. A grin teases at the corner of her mouth, “I suppose it is funnier. How’s your brother?” She hadn’t seen Yellow in a while either. Mostly, she’s trying to distract Leralynn from whatever scheme she’s cooking up. The girl really needed to learn a better poker face. The nymph’s explanation is met with a frown of concern. “I have missed a lot, haven’t I?” Rumiko is now an aunt and related to Kas, and there’s only one way that happens around here. Blowing out a sigh, Mahri reaches for Lita’s hand. She’s in need of that contact at the moment. “I really need a vacation from work,” she mutters. “I need a drink,” she declares. “Anyone else?”

Lita is apparently the only one left in all the lands who isn't somehow caught up in all the familial webs. At least, unofficially. Mahri's people are still her people. Most of them. It's not her fault she can't keep track of them all sometimes. She does offer an apologetic wave at Leralynn as she gingerly reaches to take the tournament flier back from the girl. She mumbles her way through an apology for throwing it and avoids Mahri for a moment. Which seems fine as she's inching away towards Ler. Lita folds the paper agaib to tuck it into her leather bracer and scoops up the little kitten. The calico runt scrambles up to her shoulder and immediately burrows itself into raven curls. Lita turns to respond to Rumiko but Mahri is reaching for her hand and mentioning drinks. And who is she to deny such a thing. Even as she gives a little pout at any previous plans being changed. She loops an arm around the she-wolf's waist and waves for Rumiko and Ler to follow them as she heads towards the arena exit. "Corpse, then?" She offers. "I don't think we get vacations anymore, love." She offers, giving the woman a little squeeze. Their work-play lives were just too tangled anymore.

Leralynn has unlocked a new relative, “Aunt Rumiko…” the necromancer tests out saying it, “...we’ll have to have you over for tea soon.” She says ‘we’ out of habit, it’s just her and the growing collection of undead creations in that big mansion now, especially given how Orange answers Mahri’s question about her brother. “Yellow is…” she sighs and rolls her eyes, “...he’s the same as ever. He doesn’t ever come out here… He’s dating some horse girl from Larket now…” She throws both hands up in surrender, “...I don’t know.” She doubles back to her father’s banishment, “Aye. If he steps foot in Vailkrin he gets instantly teleported back to outside the dark portal. It’s a pretty cool little spell, but the whole situation is s-...” She pauses and eyes Rumiko Azakhaer, before deciding to continue without revising her choice of words, “...stupid. I don’t know what Kas is up to, but you’d think having Blue around to help deal with the undead problem would be helpful…” The Orange Witch waves off Lita’s apology and mouths something like ‘Don’t worry about it.’ to the vampire. When prompted, Leralynn turns back up the steps to collect her bag and journal before quickly following along towards The Corpse.

Rumiko had come to study the mechanics of the undead fighting, hoping that watching their slower movements would allow for easier subject matter, but having met a niece and reunited with a sister, the fledgling no longer held interest in the shuffling at the bottom of the arena. Speaking of niece, "Tea sounds lovely." It didn't really, it was more the desire to get to learn about and get to know this newer branch of family. The nymph had never really cared for tea. It was the second bit of the youths answer to Mahri that drew her attention, and a small smirk curled her lips for that moments hesitation, "Mayhap I should have you over for tea as well." Give the blonde a better chance to let the King know her thoughts on the banishment of her father. "Drinks sound good." She had never set her items down, though she did now. She could pick up the blank papers and ink later.

Mahri || It’s been said, somewhere probably, that Mahri is really good at throwing wrenches into plans. Hopefully Orange didn’t catch the brief cringe when she mentions a Larket girl and horses. A smile for Lita, noting the pout with a flicker of doubt for a second faltering the smile, “Sure. Corpse is good.” But Rumi suggesting tea is a surprise met with a shrug when she replies to Ler, “I’m sure there were reasons. Kas doesn’t usually do things without a reason or plan down the line.” Of course, Mah hadn’t seen Blue for a while either. But then they’re all heading towards the Corpse. Is Orange even old enough to drink? Who cares, Mah’d probably shank anyone who questioned the half-elf being there.

Hanging Corpse Tavern

This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron chandelier suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place, and up the stairs are various rooms for rent. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out.

Lita imagines Mahri would have been 'some horse girl from Larket' if she hadn't ended up a wolf. She's pretty stuck on this imagining as the blonde girl prattles on about colors. Maybe they're talking art stuff. Lita should pay attention. She'd missed half of it already but then, Mahri is pretty used to her art-related tangents and practice makes perfect, so. "Wait, Thorne. Tene?" She's catching up in her head as they walk and probably interrupting the conversation. "She's the one who left the beach house to me an' Hanan years back. Only met her once or twice, she knew Hanan mostly." She shrugs absently and swallows hard. She suddenly feels a little left out of all the family-web dramas, maybe more so lately with the pirate having been away for some time now... the Corpse had never been a stomping grounds for Lita, even after her turning. She'd heard stories though. So many stories. Read others. "First round's on you." She decides, nodding Mahri towards the bar as she swats the woman's rear and heads for an empty table. In the momentary absence of Mahri, Lita turns towards Rumiko to ask, "So you want to spill the details?" She eyes the woman up and down, obviously not talking about the girl's brazen lack of footwear.

Leralynn wrinkles her nose slightly when Mahri claims that Kasyr must have had his reasons, and unconvincingly replies with, “Aye. I guess.” The blonde witch spends the walk from the arena to the Corpse hovering around Rumiko, explaining her branch of the family. Shishi is her father, of course, but Aarika, her mother, is what ties Orange and Yellow to Magik and the Lyastri. Lita mentions Tenebrae on the way and Leralynn’s eyes light up with sparkles. “Aye! You knew her? She left the estate to me and my brother. She taught me everything I know about necromancy.” She gives a nod towards the undead death knight that trails the group, as if she’s saying ‘pretty cool, huh?’ This little tidbit is actually no longer true as she’s learned quite a bit more since rejoining the necromancer’s guild in her former teacher’s absence, but the teenage half-elf will always, when given the opportunity, give all the credit regarding her necromantic prowess to her shining idol, the Dark Queen. Upon arrival at The Hanging Corpse, Orange tries to avoid eye contact with Steadmen, but he still makes a comment about her having just been here about an hour before for dinner like, ‘Back already?’

Rumiko followed after the group, listening to Leralynn explain their family bonds and recognizing another name in the long list she has of information without faces. She held the door open for the blonde before following after Lita when she selects an empty table for the group. She had heard the name Tene before, though didn't make the immediate connection as she slid into a seat just to be given a scrutinizing once-over by Lita. "Details?" A slow blink was the only thing offered for a moment as she settled back against the rest, hands coming to fold before her on the clear surface of the tabletop. It was a complicated matter, and one she would have to handle with a large amount of care to keep other plans from coming together too early. She would wait for Mahri to rejoin them, if only so as not to repeat herself. "I fell victim to the masses of the necropolis." That was easy enough. A shrug came then as she tried to play it off as if she was over the whole thing, "I was saved. Not much to tell."

Mahri eyes Lita with a smirk but heads towards to bar for a few quiet words with Steadman. He dips his head briefly before filling a tray with a whiskey bottle, two glasses, a kettle with hot water, several tea bags and two cups with saucers and spoons. After a brief pause, sugar, lemons and a small pitcher of cream added. You’d think Steadman had been a right and proper butler in a past life or something. Maybe he had been, Mahri had never felt the need to ask until then. His comment to Ler hadn’t gone unnoticed but she wasn’t going to give it any mind either. So what if she’d been there before? Balancing the tray almost like she’d done it before, and perhaps snagging up one extra glass with a wink at Steadman, Mahri heads to the table and sets the tray down passing out cups or glasses as needed and setting everything else in the middle. For herself, and Lita, she pours whiskey then sits down. “What were you doing at the necropolis?” Mahri asks over the rim of her glass before taking an appreciative sip.

Lita is both surprised and not by the casual retelling of events from Rumiko. It is perhaps more surprising that Kas hadn't yet turned an entire horde of fledglings in dealing with the necropolis issues. Or maybe he had, judging by the family web that was Vailkrin. She'd guess there was more to the story. There always was with this bunch. But she'd leave Mahri to pull those teeth. It was still only the second time she'd met the woman, after all. At least there was no pool around this time. She scoots her chair closer to the she-wolf and snags a glass of whiskey with a thanks as she slips her free hand over Mah's knee. The kitten on her shoulder is busy eyeing the fireplace across the room and keeping tabs on the blonde's undead guard, searching for that little mouse. Lita takes a drink and glances over at Leralynn. She didn't like her dad, though she'd only met him once or twice and briefly at that. She shrugs to herself and goes back to her drink.

Leralynn puffs out her cheeks at Steadmen. She really wants to order another few pieces of chicken, but if he’s gonna be sassy about it, she’s just going to drink. With the ingredients presented, and some witchy spell components from her bag, the girl fixes herself something akin to a hot toddy and sips at it while listening to Rumiko’s brief recounting of the story of her turning. Orange, living in Vailkrin, is fairly up to date on the undead crisis, but this is as close as she’s been to one of the hoard’s victims. She holds her tongue, wanting to ask what exactly Kasyr is planning on doing about the problem, but thinking maybe bad mouthing the sire of someone who you just found out you’re related to isn’t the greatest course of action. Instead she chimes in with her own little scheme, “Sorry that happened…” according to her father, becoming a vampire isn’t something to be wished on even your worst enemies, “...the undead are why I was at the arena.” She glances around cautiously and lowers her voice, “I’m planning on pulling stragglers out of the hoard with necromancy to start to chip away at it… Something needs to be done already…”

Leralynn also takes her notebook and that undead dormouse out of her bag and sets them on the table, it's starting to sound like there might be more notes to be taken.

Rumiko bit the inside of her lip. What had she been doing there? Even knowing more of the story, she was still fuzzy of quite a few of the details. "I do not really know." It was honest enough. Until she saw Kanna again, whenever that was, and was able to ask a few questions, she supposed she wouldn't know either. Leralynn's father was correct. It had not at all been a fun experience, and thought it had not been something she would have chosen with a list full of options, she had not had any. Speaking harshly about her sire likely wouldn't have been wise- not because the nymph would have done anything drastic, but it would absolutely have ruined her evening and undoubtedly cut it short. "Thank you." Her own glass was made and doctored with the supplies placed around the table as she eyed the blonde a moment, "Do be careful? I would hate for something to happen to you." Brand new or not, Orange was officially family now.

Mahri leans into Lita, sipping the whiskey while Leralynn is making herself a hot toddy. She nods in echo to Orange’s sympathies in regards to Rumiko’s change. Although she doesn’t seem like she’s worse off for it. Anyway, she would have to settle for what Rumiko knows, which seems to be not a lot, about why she’d even been in the Necropolis. “I agree, Ler. Be careful. I’d suggest you bring more than your shadow there,” she nods towards both the undead dormouse and the undead knight, “when you set those plans in motion if you haven’t yet.” Because, chances are, Leralynn already had. “Your aunt and I would be very upset if something happened to you.” Not to mention Magik and all the rest of the clan that made up this mismatched family of sorts. Probably somehow related to Val or something somewhere along the lines, or, gods forbid, even Macon. Frowning, Mahri looks at her glass then at Steadman wondering if he had slipped something in the whiskey the direction her thoughts were going at the moment.

Lita had been fortunate only in the fact that her siring had actually been her choice. Unfortunate in the fact that it had nearly killed her and her sire hadn't been around for long after. No one had been. She takes a longer drink, to keep those memories firmly planted where they belong. The kitten is doing some shifting, the tell-tale butt wriggle that preludes a feline pounce to prey, but Lita is faster and she snatches the little calico critter by the scruff of his neck in mid-air, leaving the thing dangling pitifully with its tail tucked and a little mew to follow. The kitten kicks its feet at her hand but can't reach and Lita returns the critter to the edge of the table where he gives an argumentative little growl. "We don't attack things unprovoked." She scolds him before adding, "Usually." She reaches over to snag a spoon from the tray and dips it in the cream before offering it to him as a distraction. It works, which seems to both delight and annoy the critter as he laps merrily at the spoon while still eyeing the little mouse. Lita eyes Mahri sideways for a moment. Is she about to volunteer to play bodyguard again? She might have to interject. Thankfully, she doesn't. So Lita glances to Ler. "Should just round 'em up and use 'em as the environmental challenge for the Winter tournament." Another shrug as she finishes her drink and reaches for the bottle to refill Mahri's glass and then her own. "Two birds one stone an' all."

Leralynn nods to Rumiko and Mahri, “Aye… I’m hoping Tess will come with me when I actually go to do it… and I have this thing anyway.” She goes back into the seemingly bottomless bag and pulls out the enoki cloak, tossing it with a flourish over her shoulders, and becoming a blurred, muffled blob in the eyes of the vampires present. “Pretty effective against the undead.” The first half of that last sentence is difficult to make out for those affected by the obscuring enchantment as she removes the cape once more in the middle of it, exposing a wildly proud grin. If the mushroom based magic evokes thoughts of Kanna, that is because the necrobard was the inspiration for this particular bit of enchantment. To Lita, Orange nods, but then shrugs, “Aye. If it were that simple though, I’d think Kas have done something more already. I suspect he’s trying to keep the peace. Waging war on a large part of your population doesn’t seem like a great choice for a leader.” Is this a shot at a certain Angry King? Maybe. Unclear.

Rumiko knew more, but the tavern where anyone and anything could walk in was hardly a place to speak freely. Hearing herself being called aunt was both a weird and comforting thing. Family was something incredibly important to the nymph, which might account for all of the bonds- by oath, blood or soul- that she had collected over the years. It was something that seemed to be increasing in frequency with the addition to Kasyr and Quintessa to those ties. Lita's comment on attacking unprovoked might have pulled a snort from the redhead, if her concern for the witch at her side hadn't been her focus for the moment. When the cloak was pulled free of the bottomless bag and the fae was able to get a decent look at it, she froze. It could easily be the sudden semi-vanishing of the witch, but in truth is was the mushrooms themselves. The cup in her hand fell back into the saucer, though it had thankfully only been high enough to cause a loud clinking rather than shattering on impact. A hard swallow was taken before she added more to the conversation, breezing over the fumble, "Especially when they are not all mindless. Finding a way sort them cannot be easy. Especially with the sheer amount of them present."

Mahri stayed quiet while Lita gave suggestions for obstacles for the coming tournament and Orange shows off her cloak. The clink of cup on saucer has her sliding a glance towards Rumiko. Something about her posture, or a brief expression she made, but something caused hairs on the back of the wolf’s neck to stand up. Bringing the refilled glass to her lips, Mahri takes a sip before glancing away and to Leralynn. “That’s an interesting cloak,” and since she wasn’t undead or a vampire, she asked, “What does it do?” Is she really that clueless? Maybe. “Just don’t go hunting the undead without some sort of back up. Ok?”

Lita blinks at the sudden disappearance-reappearance of the blonde kid beneath the shmancy cloak. Alright, so that explains that. Or doesn't. But she chalks most of these things up to magic and moves on without needing- or wanting- an explanation. At least she could be around the stuff for a while and not get freaked out. She glances at the stuttering of Rumiko's cup with a surprised look but doesn't say anything of the reaction. "Not sure how much survives a place like that." She says of Rumiko's comment about not all of the undead being mindless. "Sometimes it should be about the quality of what's left and what could be considered a more merciful outcome." She squeezes Mahri's knee at her question about the cloak. "She's a wizard, Mah. It makes her invisible." She waves a hand with her fingers spread wide in a playful ta-da! gesture.

Leralynn raises a brow at the cup clattering onto the saucer, but Rumiko doesn’t seem to miss a beat after the little fumble, so Orange lets it pass without a comment. “Obscures me from detection from undead.” She answers Mahri, adding onto Lita’s own description with that same twinge of pride in her voice that she had when talking about being taught by Tenebrae. “The way Blue described it; it makes them want to ignore me, like I fade into the background and become forgettable. I think it works even better on lesser undead than it does on vampires, but I’ve never found one that I could ask about what they see when I wear it. I grew some extra mushrooms that can be eaten for a similar, temporary effect if you’re interested.” She looks to Lita and Rumiko, “I haven’t tested them on vampires, so I can’t offer you two any… sorry.” Like they even asked…

Rumiko was uncomfortable, and it was the cause of her head tilting so she might level eyes at Lita. "So your thoughts are to take them all out? Regardless of sentience?" Her cup was pushed back and away from her as fingers pressed into the surface of the table, "And who would you charge with it? With looking those with thoughts and ideas in the eyes before murdering them, ending a second life that they did not ask for?" Was the nymph sympathizing with the creatures responsible for her current predicament? Maybe. "While there are a large amount that may very well be better replanted, there are still those mixed within that are victims in their own right." Her gaze shifted back to Orange with a small, half-hearted smile at the end of her rant, "I am not a fan of mushrooms, so no worries from my end."

Mahri nodded her understanding at both Lita and Ler’s explanation of what the cloak did. But then Rumi is challenging the idea of just rounding up the undead. “You have a point Rumi. I’m sure we all know someone who would be able to do just that.” Mahri reaches to cover Lita’s hand with her own as it rested on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze beneath the table. “Or know someone who knows someone. A telepath or an empath, maybe?” Ler’s offer of mushrooms is met with a tilt of her head, “But they only work on the undead? I couldn’t hide from anything else, like say, a human? Can they be bred for specific uses?”

Charles is grateful to be out of the night chill. Weary from long travels and eager for some creature comforts, the chaplain presses his way into the Hanging Corpse–his interim lodging thus far in Vailkrin. “There’s a fine welcome,” he mutters aloud, glad to hear the sounds and see the faces of cheerful strangers. For all its gothic charm, the Land of Twilight is a gloomy place. Charlie’s solitary travels weigh heavy on his spirit, and he’ll be glad to mingle and drink a bit before bed. At a glance, Charles is a priestly adventurer of sorts, dressed in a mix of chainmail and priestly garb. He is a human somewhere in his fifties, complete with laugh lines and a fine gray beard. A holy amulet of the Divine Three hangs around his neck, a mithril baton hangs at his side, and his leather gloved hands are already fumbling for his pipe and tobacco pouch.

Quintessa || There is a chill in the air, a cold that even the fires inside the tavern can’t combat. They burn slightly dimmer now, a dark presence imposing itself in the area as a new person enters the tavern, the breeze from outside following her as she makes her way past the doors. It is Quintessa Blackwell that appears at the threshold, an ebony cloak obscuring her form as she scans the room lazily with blue and hazel eyes, peering at those gathered from under her pointed witch’s hat. She focuses on Rumiko and Leralynn first, her body almost gliding across the room as she moves to join them, but then she turns her gaze to fall upon Lita and she stops in her place. “Hmph.” The bored look on her face shifts into an expression of annoyance, her lips parting to address the vampire with a simple phrase. “I’ve been looking for you.” But that was all she said to the woman before finishing her journey to join their table, seating herself next to them, her attention shifting first to Rumiko. “What’s this about mushrooms? Do you mean *the* mushrooms?” A slight frown tugs at her mouth before she brings her gaze over to Mahri. “Undead? I take it you are trying to work out some solution to the unrest currently plaguing our city? If you have any ideas you’d like to put forward, the United Coalition of Necromancers would love to hear them.”

Lita doesn't interrupt Rumiko's little ranting. Even if the woman seems to have misunderstood her. She's not in a mood to argue her point though, so instead she plays into the hand dealt. "Oh, so in your eyes it's a far more merciful solution to leave them all squabbling over scraps then? Well, I'm sure those aware enough to are appreciating you for the life they're leading." She shakes her head and takes another long drink. She really hadn't planned on arguing, but she never could keep her mouth shut or back down from a fight. "I'll agree, there are plenty who are victims of their circumstance. But if you want to be a bleeding heart advocate, maybe start with asking them if they want to be saved. All I'm sayin'." She doesn't notice that her grip has tightened on Mahri's knee. She barely registers that Mahri's hand is on her own now. Or that there's some conversation about mushrooms happening at the same table. Fine, she'll reign it in some. There's a restless feeling crawling its way up her spine and into the back of her brain. She finishes her whiskey. That'll probably help. She glances towards the door as a priest enters. There's a joke here somewhere, surely. But whatever it is is overshadowed by the changeling's entrance. Always a welcomed flair for the dramatic. Lita is entirely surprised by the announcement that the woman had been looking for her and she narrows dark eyes at Tessa as she joins their table. Suddenly whatever ire had been simmering at Rumiko's comments had been momentarily redirected towards Tessa. "What'd I do?" She half mumbles as the woman launches to join the conversation of fungi and when she asks about the plague of undead, Lita turns pointedly towards Rumiko with one word in answer. "Bait."

Leralynn sips at her toddy while listening to Rumiko ask about who would be charged with eliminating the undead that have gone rogue. “I know a guy that would do it for a fee…” she says over the lip of her cup, “...but he’s not welcome in town at the moment.” The necromancer isn’t particularly sympathetic towards the creatures that if they had their way would kill her entire family just for being living or a vampire. Her relationship with Vakmatharas isn’t as zealous as the priestesses of the underdark and the believers in Larket that regard the undead as abominations, but she does recognize that all of the undead, including vampires are living on borrowed time from The God of Death. “That said, my method should just bring them out of whatever might be controlling… or brainwashing them to act this way right now. It just will take a lot of time or a lot of manpower to do the whole job… probably both.” Orange nods to Mahri, “Aye, just undead. It’s necromancy. Won’t work on the living… I can reverse the enchantment though… Make you irresistible to them instead.” This is said with a knowing smirk before mention of ‘an empath’ causes The Orange Witch to wrinkle her nose and almost sneer. The word brings up the thought of White, who isn’t the half-elf’s favorite step-mother. When Charlie enters, Leralynn’s eyes dart back and forth between the seemingly out of place older gentleman and Steadmen, as if silently asking the latter if he recognizes the former. As a member of The Living Dead Girls, she’s upset a few gods in the past, but The Three are not necessarily among that group. Tess enters shortly afterward and the blonde grins towards her friend and greets her with a, “Speak of the devil…”

Charles shudders. Was that a draft? Or something to do with that woman brushing past? Surely a draft, Charles reassures himself, even as he eyes Quintessa. Careful not to let his gaze linger, the chaplain meanders up to the bar, leisurely packing his pipe and doing his best to absorb a bit of the atmosphere, energy, and conversation along the way. Fungus, undead, a hint of tension? Ordinarily, Charles would say that a little good-natured conflict is just the right dash of to liven a night. Ordinarily. Suddenly feeling the weight of miles and an immense weariness, Charles slips past the bar, up the stairs, and to his rented room, where he will surely enjoy his pipe nonetheless. In solitude. Someone else can wrangle the drunks tonight.

Rumiko looked towards the door, opening first for the recently acquainted priest and the even more familiar changeling not long after. It was the latter that had the nymph's shoulders relaxing despite her not even realizing she'd gone stiff. There was something comforting in her presence, though the argument ensuing would eliminate that calmer feeling. "That is not what I said and You know it. The issue is weeding them out. I am sure the pack-mentality has fully taken root. With the ferals attacking anything 'other', it wouldn't-" Green eyes closed then, fingers curling inward as she counted internally in an attempt to keep from reacting the way she wanted to. The scent of the changeling joining their table pulled her free from her thoughts, and she shook her head for the question prosed. "No, but similar." The nymph was anti all mushrooms, now-a-days. "Back so soon?" She didn't ask about the camp, despite her wanting to. Leralynn was offered a glance then, "Repellant and an attractant? That is quite the spellwork. I do look forward to our tea." And learning more about what the younger witch could do. Lita, it would see, was ignored.

Quintessa eyes Lita as she speaks but she does not offer any more cryptic warnings, she merely gives the woman a dip of her head as she offers her a “Goodnight.” When the Orange Witch fills the changeling in, however, the coldness of her gaze changes to academic interests. A slender finger curling against her bottom lip as she thinks. “Hmm… That’s an interesting discovery- If they are all tethered together as this suggests, their minds warped as a fragmented hive, then that will make pacifying them even easier. We just have to figure out which serve as conduits and are leading the others astray.” When the name Caluss is brought up the curiosity in her eyes sobers up, turning cold once more, a coldness that turns to ice when Leralynn mentions that it was the undead responsible for Rumiko’s demise. “They did what?” Her gaze slowly shifts to Rumiko, that psychotic luster she got when her bloodlust was highest beginning to form in her mismatched eyes. “I swear to Delisha, Daedria, and the rest of the Gods that watch from on high that I’m moments away from leveling the necropolis and letting Vakmatharas sort them out for us… How did *that* detail slip me?” Quintessa rubs her temple but she lets it go, not wanting to dwell on it very long. “Nevermind. I’ll find you in the castle later. There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you anyway…” With that said she allows the nymph to leave, returning her focus on Orange. “It’s good to see you, by the way… Sorry I haven’t been by to visit. I should be able to do that now since my exile has been lifted. We should catch up.”

Leralynn gives Rumiko an “Aye aye~!” and bids goodnight to the rest as they take their leave. She’ll stay in The Corpse leafing through here notebook and discussing the plan she’s been developing to peel away at the hoard for as long as Quintessa will stay and listen to her for. There’s that almost manic infatuation that the girl has for practical necromancy pouring out of her, the likes of which Quintessa hasn’t seen since the planning phases of restoring The Xalious Tree. Steadmen has seen the young witch get this way before too, and he knows his role to play. Drink refills and little snacks are delivered to the table periodically throughout the process…