((OOC: This is technically open, but please PM me about plots before you reply.))

The first thing she knew was darkness.

Unseeing eyes searched for a thing to see, to take hold of, to know. When sight failed, she became aware of her fingers and toes, but no effort could move them. How long had it been since she had moved? How long since she had seen? Death was supposed to be eternal… and perhaps an eternity had passed while her soul had wandered the timeless, thoughtless wastes of the afterward. As she waited in the in-between, awake but unaware, she began to remember. There was nothing to remember of death; there had been no torment or longing, no unfinished business, not even the beautiful darkness that permeated her being in these fresh new moments. No, it was not death that she remembered.

There was an old dry fountain, its heavy marble split under the weight of age. There were gnarled old trees with absent monsters, and there were real monsters made of mangled fears and flaming magic. The sound of laughter danced with laced corsets and sweet cakes until together they melted into the hot effort of a mortar and pestle, scents of thyme and garlic and ginger and peppermint rising to her invisible nose one after the other. She remembered the spray of the open sea and the happy twinkle of endless stars. She remembered daisies and rubies and peony silks, and hate and love and doubt. And she remembered a great fire, marriages, miscarriages, and the horrible force of a deep, desperate plunge.

She did not remember a burial. There was no reason she should have, if she had truly died. And yet the first thing she felt was soil. It surrounded her, cradled her with that sort of distant warmth which only the earth could give. When her fingers finally responded to her mind’s commands, twitching against the darkness, it felt sticky and wet—as if she had been watered like a seed. Her face felt its first grin at the thought.

So it was that Chae rose up from her grave, like a young bud bending toward the sun. But, of course, there was no sun. Even the starry night seemed dim through the wretched branches of the cursed forest’s canopy. The late summer air might have been warm, if she were wearing anything other than wet soil. Her body, though it was as tiny as ever, was too heavy to lift. When her arms failed her, she crawled on her elbows toward the only item that her new eyes could see: a wisp of faint blue light, like the smoke from an arcane flame, dancing above the body of a dead man.

Chae did not realize what it was until she had pulled herself atop it, reaching for the star-like tendril in the consuming darkness. The body was still warm, the cotton of his shirt damp where the blood still flowed. She heard her forearm slap against the wetness, slipping over the strange slope of his chest. Then the light neared, and she saw it reflect in his dead eyes, and she recognized what he was—though not who he was—and she screamed.

Her legs found new life, scrambling in puddles of what was certainly not water, spraying the unholy fluid over the sacrificial space. She struggled to stand, but never found the strength. Instead she was forced to kneel opposite the dead man, her lungs burning with effort and her heart pounding with fear. She remembered anew the heavy burden of life, the confusion and the uncertainty. It was profoundly overrated.

The little blue light, however, did not seem perturbed by her discovery. Of its own accord, it crossed the small clearing in pursuit of her. It circled her with as much curiosity as a wisp of energy could have, ignored by the woman's staring, incredulous eyes. When it reached her back, it flared brightly; then it proceeded to burrow quietly into her spine. It glowed faintly at her heart for a moment, where it flickered and faded into her warmth. The only things left in her world were the goose-prickles on her arms, the mysterious body at her knees,

And the darkness.

And the shrouded figure who observed all this from across the clearing, although it would be easy to miss him, swathed head to foot in a loose black sheet, something akin to a burial shroud. He had observed everything since the halfling woman had risen out of the earth. Even though his face was invisible beneath the cowl he wore there was a sense of implacable interest. He hadn't slain the man who's blood had summoned her from death's embrace, indeed he was summoned here as surely as she had been. He'd made his way to the isle of Koschei, hearing that it was a place for all outcasts, in particular the undead, and had found it suitable as a base of operations. While during the clouded day he could not pass for human, in all but the few hours of direct sunlight he could at least not appear as a skeletal horror. Under the cover of night such as now however he appeared to be but a simple mortal. But that night he'd felt drawn to the forest, the wandering spirits had never drawn him before, but something had inexorably pulled him deeper and deeper into the twisted woodland. Ignoring the stuck faces of those mortals who had once defied gods, and the still swinging nooses of those who had followed them into death he had followed the summons until he reached the glad.

The deed, however had already been done, all candle extinguished and all that remained was the slaughtered corpse. The man had been almost ready to leave when he felt the power that had drawn him earth itself. It had brought a shiver of recognition, especially as the halfling woman rose out of the earth, while not swimming through the earth such as her, he knew the gasp of long empty lungs refilling themselves, he himself had made such a noise not long ago. Therefore his curiosity and perhaps a sense of pity held him there, watching what unfolded. It was markedly different to his own resurrection in several ways, his had not been at the behest of anyone, unless you counted the long dead druids who had carved the curses that were supposed to guard his repose, neither had his return required the death of another, solely the theft of his barrow bound possessions. But at the same time he recognised a kindred nature, she was no unthinking corpse or construct, her reaction to the sacrifice alone told him that she was as sentient as he was.

The consumption of the soul was what finally moved him to make himself known, in his brief time since rising he had found that his touch, while in his daylight forms consumed life force in a similar fashion, strengthening himself while weakening those he touched. He stepped forward into the clearing, becoming a visibly solid form rather than the seeming shadow he had been. When he spoke his voice was soft, "Lady holbytla…" He paused, "Sorry, my lady halfling, do not fear, that which has just entered you will sustain you." His voice was soft, musical in tone, although slightly halting, as if unfamiliar with the language. "I was called here by the same rite as called you forth. My name is Bryn yr Gwyn." Gloved hands reached up and lowered the hood which had concealed his face, revealing a man of about thirty, pale skinned, blue eyed and with long hair. Although pale he didn't have the cadaverous appearance typical of necromancers, indeed even shrouded his broad shoulders couldn't be hidden, nor the iron sword that was buckled to his waist.

As the first of his words entered the unholy air between them, a sharp gasp burned in the reborn halfling's lungs. The pain startled her more than he did; instinctively she brought a hand to her chest. Where icy cold fingertips touched the bare flesh above her heart, she could feel the power of the consumed soul already dissipating. Her fingers curled toward it, wishing she could reach deeper into herself and hold the warmth in place. Little did she know how she would never feel real heat again.

The stranger's words found her ears and settled patiently there, as the rest of her senses caught up with their own priorities. Nooses swung stiffly in the still air, faces stretched in agony around her. The metallic stench of blood bit at her nostrils and crept onto her tongue. This was not a place of good. She was not made of goodness. And yet the man who approached her was kind and understanding. Finally, she looked at him.

"I am Chae," she said without moving, hesitating for a moment as she failed to remember a surname. The language that tripped over his tongue was fluid on hers, her voice carrying the sweet twang of a forest folk from another dimension. Her gaze met his, without looking again at the horrible scene that surrounded her. The color of her eyes was obscured by the glow of her patchwork life force. It bled softly from her in tendrils of bluegreen necromancy, leaking from a body that could not keep it in place. Chae did not know of implements and phylacteries, and any creature who might have taught her was either dead or fled. Ignorant to the fragility of her existence, she hazarded to ask, "What is this place? Why… why am I here?"

Meanwhile she attempt to stand, gripping weakly at the chipping bark which had once been the leg of an unlucky soldier. The movement made her shiver again, and only then did she realize that she was still quite naked. Another new and unpleasant emotion–embarrassment–rose up in her confused mind, though it did not deign to color her cheeks. She attempted to cover herself with her slippery arms, turning away from Bryn yr Gwyn and toward the dead man. The thought occurred to her to take his clothes, but she could not bring herself near him. She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to simplify her spinning thoughts.

"Did you kill him?" She whispered shrilly, her knees shaking. "Or did I?"

If Bryn noticed Chae's embarrassment he didn't deign to mention it, but at the same time he didn't offer his shroud to her, while he'd never admit it out loud, the shroud had become a comfort item to him since his reanimation. While the hooded and covered figure drew notice, even on the streets of Kurayo, it did at least save him from being treated as a mindless skeleton or shrivelled horror most of the time. More interesting to him was her reaction to consuming the soul, it seemed as if its sustenance lasted only a moment, whereas when he stole someone's strength it strengthened him for hours to a day or more. Perhaps that was due to him feeding on someone still living while her feeding was from one already dead, something he had not done if he even could. Still it suggested some differences in their nature, albeit minor ones compared to the similarities. Her voice, now that she wasn't screaming was pleasant, more certain in the language than his, leading Bryn to the assumption that she had lived in more recent times than he, although her accent was unlike any he'd yet come across, but the world was wide and with many nooks he no doubt would never come across.

"Chae." He said, almost as if pondering the sound to himself, committing it to memory. "This place is Koschei forest, a cursed place on a foreboding isle." He chuckled a little, "The island itself is home to a city for outcasts, most especially those who are cursed, undead or both." He didn't elaborate on too much yet, the disorientation of reanimation could take time to settle. He took the scene in more fully, while the energy from the ritual was gone he could almost feel tendrils of necromantic magic as they extended from her, he wasn't sure if all undead did that or whether it was something peculiar to her kind, and what that would mean with regards to her continuing existence.

He continued in his answer as to why she was there. "The simplest answer is that this was where your body was buried." His icy blue eyes looked into hers, "If you haven't already realised it yet, I'm sorry to inform you that you're no longer among the living. In my people's tongue you would be called an aptrgangr…" Thinking for a moment he tried to fit the current words around the idea, "Literally an, again-walker. I suppose revenant would do. "You've retained self awareness, and perhaps some memories so rather than a Likgangr, or walking corpse, my people would have called you a draugr, or wight, like myself." With that, almost as if it were something perfectly ordinary he'd revealed that there wasn't a single living being in that clearing. "As for how that came to pass," nodding to the sacrifice, "I would presume a necromancer, or cabal of them brought you forth. Which is where we differ, I wasn't called forth, but woken by tomb robbers. You were summoned by ritual magic, not something I have much knowledge of yet." Although he was planning to start collecting works on the undead particularly the self-aware kind.

Her question as to whether either of them had killed the man was answered by Bryn with a shake of his head, "Neither of us laid a hand on him, at least until you rose, and by that time he was dead." He pointed to other signs of ritual workings, "They used the death to channel power into raising you, being attuned to this kind of magic it drew me here, and it seems to you."

Aptrgangr. Likgangr. Draugr. Wight.

Chae swallowed a lump in her throat, desperate to keep her world straight. It was surprisingly easy, considering that her mind had been quick enough before its first death, but the sensations of learning and knowing were too fresh to be anything but overwhelming. Every thought and fact and experience whirled loudly between her ears, her identity caught on the coattails of new awareness. She removed her hand from the tree to touch her arm, reminding herself that she was alive… or, at least, corporeal. It comforted her to think that this man might sympathize with her confusion.

Necromancers. Rituals. Undead. Cursed.

"I want to know who they are," she admitted, tentative feet pulling her slowly toward the body. Closer examination revealed that she could not use his clothes even if she wanted to; they were soaked and surely stained. "I want to know what this means.”

A final shiver rocked her little form, arms gripping fruitlessly over her shoulders and breasts. Though consciously she could not contrive a solution to the problem, her necromantic will did the work for her; it pulled at the shadows around her feet and drew them up around her, cloaking her in intangible  blackness. Chae gasped as it began, but in the next moment she understood. She remembered how to weave the elements to her will and found that darkness was no different.

As the shadows hemmed around her throat and wrists, the effort of even that minor magic burned in her unbeating heart. Her leaky glow flailed around her as if tugged in a wild breeze, and she fell to her knees. Still covered in sticky red, her otherwise bare hand gripped a loose stone on the ground. There was a jolt of dark energy that the wight could surely feel and, suddenly, the eerie shine disappeared. In the dim night that remained Chae rose clumsily again, the stone in her fist. A black rune had been carved on it by her capricious magic, marking the little item as her very own, if not entirely destructible, phylactery.

Malevolence. Corruption. Darkness. Hope.

Her wandering eyes, no longer aglow with her escaping soul, rose toward Bryn yr Gwyn again. More questions brimmed there for a moment, but soon enough the expression faded, replaced instead by silent contemplation. She was lucky to have such a creature to introduce her to the world, but ultimately he could not give her the answers she sought. Not all of them.

"You said there was a city near here,” she squeaked, discovering a semblance of composure through ignoring the preceding events. Her gaze settled on what might have been the horizon, if there were not so many horrible trees in the way. “We should go there. In the meantime, I want to know about your awakening. How was it different than mine?”

If there was anyone who could understand how overwhelming all this new information could be it was Bryn, after all he'd had to learn much of it the same way, but without someone there who knew such things. Indeed all he'd had to rely on was his memory of the stories told by the bards and druids of his era. They had spoken of the different kinds of aptgangr, and a few of he druids could even call to the spirits of the ancestors for wisdom. The main difference between himself and those spirits was that he still inhabited his body and remained corporeal at all times. Whether this was true of Chae was another matter, and whether she like him lost much of the illusion of life when the sun rose. When Chae spoke of wanting to know who it was that had drawn her from the grave and left her with no knowledge he nodded, "I'd like to know who they are too, although perhaps for different reasons, although they may be able to answer your questions about why you are here, and how that came to pass, I have a fear." He paused for a moment considering his words, "I could be simple chance, that they knew there was a body here and they simply meant to raise a mindless servitor but something about you, willpower, magic, something," He shrugged, not know what it might be, "Meant that you return as a sentient being." Then he explained the other option, "But it's possible they intended to raise you as you are and bind you to their service. In which case they are a danger to both of us, while we're obviously different, the power that raised you called to me, so we're similar enough that if they sought to bind you, they might have the ability to bind me also." He shook his head, "That's not something I can allow."

Her using magic was another demonstration of the difference between them, he had no such power, at least not of that nature, his touch could drain others and fuel him, but he had no power to manipulate the elements like a mage. Then she sent a jolt of necromantic energy into the stone, for a moment his withered face was visible, a ghostly image superimposed over his mortal features, but the moment the phylactery was complete his face was once again completely human in appearance. He rubbed his arms, as if cold, looking at the stone, and how Chae no longer seemed to be leaking necromantic energy Bryn came to some conclusions. "Well that answers some questions. Up until then I could feel necromantic energy coming off you, I thought it was just your nature, but it seems to be that once you earthed it in there the energy no longer radiates from you." He thought for a moment, "Perhaps the stone acts as a store, a solid object that is of the world, and so enables you, who is no longer of the world to remain here." Which would mean keeping hold of that stone would be vital to Chae's continued existence and freedom.

Her eyes cleared and it seemed her mind gained more stability and composure with the stone's marking, another indication that it was necessary to her. The question was a little unexpected but he answered, "Yes, the city of Kurayo, founded by lycathropes and vampires, and with a strong Drow presence." The Drow, now he thought of it were famed for their necromancers, although the vampires too often had that reputation. Anyone, particularly outsiders are welcome, but newcomers have to be careful as there aren't many rules to keep them safe, particularly in the shifter quarter of the city." The question about his origin was more expected. "I died, due to wounds inflicted in battle some centuries ago, long enough ago that steel was practically unheard of. My people, the Hernystiri buried their heroes and chieftains in great earthen barrows along with their treasured possessions." He shrugged, "As I'm sure you've worked out, I was one such chieftain, he reached behind his back, into a bag hidden under his shroud and produced an ancient iron crown. Five claw-like points extended from the main band, and it glowed with the same blue as the necromantic energy Chae's eyes had been filled with, he hid it again, not entirely sure whether having such an artefact in plain view was wise. "Some six months ago tomb robber broke into my barrow and triggered a curse carved on the walls by my tribes druids, although from what I've since learned the druid's curse was more a release than a raising, wights are those of particularly strong will and tend to raise themselves. The inscriptions the druids carved prevented me from rising, when the tomb robbers broke in it negated those and so I awoke." He thought a little about what else he should tell her, "Part of why I've risen is to retrieve those items that were stolen, such as the crown. But I'm not sure that even if all of them were returned that I could truly rest now." He indicated the stone which she'd marked, "Another difference if that I require nothing to tie me to the world, although it might be that that is why my more pleasant form doesn't last, as you'll see once dawn comes." Which given the time the ritual had taken place, the time it had taken Chae to rise, and their talking wasn't more than an hour or two off.

Chae felt the instinct to gulp, to swallow the dread that formed from his words, though her throat was too dry to make the effort mean anything. If it was true, what he said about the intentions of this mysterious and absent group of summoners, then it seemed that she had more to worry about than she had ever imagined. At least she seemed to have an ally in this, if only one of necessity.

Her little feet made slow progress over the twisted roots and cobblestones, her short legs no less clumsy for the grace of her magic. The blood was drying and peeling on her skin beneath her shadowy skirts, chafing inelegantly in the dry night. “I remember…” she said absently, and in response to no particular word of his, “There was a time when I could bring down a torrent from the heavens, to make mud of this dry place. To lap away this itching refuse. Now, in my hour of weakness–” The stone turned in her hands, strangely cold in the palm that could not warm it. “I dare not.”

Instead she focused on his words, for they were many and enlightening. His story filled their trip to the city, painting in the pale darkness before her eyes images of ancient tombs and druidic wards and unwitting trespassers. Perhaps more candidly than hindsight might have allowed, she replied, “The world greeted you with a task to pursue, where I am left with only envy. The items will fall to your hands before eternity consumes you, and perhaps then you will find peace.” A short pause passed beneath thoughts of meaning and motivation. “One day, I will seek out your tomb and learn what I can of your mission. It is the least I can do to repay you for your knowledge, and your kindness.”

Was it kindness? Bryn’s was not the worst company to have made in Chae’s first moments of unlife. This forest may not have easily housed the sort of clerics or paladins who could have destroyed her on the spot, but neither had she been forced to fend off any of the vampires or drow–who were apparently many in such a place. In a different life she had hated the drow, though now she had all but forgotten why. Perhaps she had a new vengeance to direct toward their evil. The thought pulled like a grin at the edges of her lips.

“The moon falls quickly. How many times will it rise again before we learn our truths? I want to know, I want to know…” She glanced up at the man’s fair face, not knowing what ugliness the dawn would bring. “I want to know many things, but first I want to know what I can give you in exchange for your help.”

Chae's memories seemed fragmented still, curious to Bryn as his had neatly slotted into place soon after he'd woken, perhaps that was part of what summoning the dead from their graves did, rob them of the memories which made them who they were. That Chae had retained these might have been what allowed her sentience and self control. When she mentioned about the blood he simply said, "There are streams between here and the city to clear your face, and I keep some rooms within the city, where I can have a bath drawn." He remembered from centuries past when he'd returned from the battlefield, sticking and bloodied, the simple pleasure of hot water and cleansing yourself was in those times one of the finest feelings imaginable. "Unsurprisingly for a city with a large number of magic users, it's fairly simple to get hot water, and servants don't ask about why the water is bloodstained." Not that he'd given them cause to ask questions, but in a city where vampires, lycanthropes and all the other races feared and frowned on lived not asking was simply good sense.

Her mention of his task raised a shrug, "I'm not sure whether it's truly a task that will give me rest, of just something to do. The crown hasn't eased me closer to rest, although having it is a comfort." He didn't explain exactly why, but he'd found since reclaiming it that it allowed him to call upon the spirits of some of his tribesmen. While they were not as cogent as he, nor corporeal, he found speaking his old tongue and being answered in it made him feel less isolated in a world that had simply forgotten him and his people. "You too have a task, although far more nebulous than mine, find why you've returned, and why in your current state." The first would be answerable by those who'd brought her forth, the second was perhaps more complex, did her living magic, which had transmuted itself into darkness, provide the answer, or was there some other reason. Bryn wondered to himself whether he was acting out of kindness, something he'd if not been known for, at least had been known to offer on occasion. Or perhaps it was simply that she was the first he'd come across who was truly like him in some fashion, the only other undead he had come across were vampires, a class of creature far removed from him.

As they edged closer to the city, beginning to leave behind the mainstay of the forest, he question gave him pause. He understood the reason for asking, a kindness unrepaid was a debt owing, and his people had had many legends as to how a debt left unpaid could come back and hurt him who owed it. He shrugged, "For the moment the pleasure of your company will suffice, after we have dealt with your summoners we can discuss if there is anything left to balance." Perhaps she would help him while doing so, leaving them equal, or he might aid her so much that she considered the scales even further unbalanced. Better to clear it as one rather than piece by piece.

The lights of the city were few in those earliest morning hours, but still she could see the first flickers of candlelight through the sparse cover of trees as they neared. The buildings were small and plain, and might not have seemed so sinister if she did not know what lurked within. Their black outlines carved pleasantly enough into the Eastern pale of the coming dawn. It seemed like there was less than an hour until the sun’s rays would finally crest the horizon, and a part of Chae itched in anticipation for the warmth and clarity of day. Little did she know that the sky would not budge from its incessant twilight, enchanted as it was by fell rituals. 

Her attention was drawn to the shuffling waters at the docks, illuminated by fishermen’s torches and skiff lanterns. “I have rested too long,” she said suddenly, replying to the trail of thoughts that her mind had followed in the passing silence. “I do not need it now. And perhaps it will serve me to wear blood and darkness in this city. All the better to find what I seek.”

It occurred to Chae that bringing such attention to herself could easily result in her death. It also occurred to her that this fate would not be an unfamiliar nor an entirely unwelcome one. She buried the thought quietly beneath a waking optimism. “In any case, it may be that my summoners know a thing or two about your artifacts, if they are vessels of your undeath.”

Where once she might have hidden from the wandering eyes of unwitting workers, Chae’s bare feet tread loudly over the salt-washed boards. Her phylactery stone was clutched in one hand, her pale eyes peering in thought. Unless she wanted to search through every window in town, the only thing to do was ask. But what was there to ask? Do you know where I might find a killer? A dead-raiser? A blood magician? Do you know anyone in particular who would kill a man in order to resurrect a cleric from another world?

Her desire to speak with one of the fishermen sparked on her volatile power. The blackness around her grew to envelop her little body, her unconscious will transporting her through the darkness. A second later, she was growing again out of the undulating shadow cast by a fisherman's torchlight. The man started, dropping his torch in the water before he was able to compose himself and demand an explanation. He was no pushover—he traded in Kurayo after all—but he was clearly not a resident.

“Summoners,” she demanded, and even the sweet pitch of her voice found an insidious edge between the tendrils of thick shadow which danced around her. “Where can I find one who raises undead?”

It was not her intention to abandon Bryn. Maybe he had a way to learn more, to find information and return to compare details. Or his warrior’s physicality, or whatever else he would become in the coming minutes, could serve to help in her attempts at intimidation. Either way, Chae could only hope that the pleasure of her company would keep his fate entwined with hers. It was a nice feeling, to have a friend in this.

The outlines of buildings heralded Bryn's return and Chae's arrival to that city which Bryn had made his home, candles were few and far between in the near dawn hours, although for a bustling city there were seldom many candles burning at windows, most of the denizens needed artificial light after all. Although not harmed by the dawn Bryn had learned to recognise the tell-tale feelings which accompanied its imminent arrival and he hoped to be undercover by the time the sun's hidden rise began in earnest, while there was only a scarce handful of hours during which his true nature was revealed to the world here, he still preferred to remain cloaked during the hours of day, if merely to reduce the number of gawkers. The nearest gate to the city was by the docks, dotted with more lights than the city proper as more of those who merely visited inhabited the rat warrens of dockside taverns and the assorted trades associated with the sea. Chae's words tore the companionable silence that had fallen on their walk, her mention of perhaps not needing conventional clothing for the moment raising an eyebrow. 

"That may be true, but it might also catch the attention of those who might be less sensible to the risks presented by someone clothed in blood and darkness, and merely see a woman without clothing." He didn't raise the point of her relative lack of height as he was sure Chae was fully aware how some might judge that aspect. The mention of his artefacts brought a nod from Bryn, "At least they might explain what exactly is going on with my crown." He knew now that the blue-green glow was necromantic energy, the feeling was by now very familiar, but what it portended was as yet unknown. "As for my rest, if my understanding of the druid's runes is correct I was always doomed to rise if those runes hadn't been keeping me at rest. The theft of my possessions was enough to break that particular bond."

It was at that point that he felt Chae's power flare, a feeling not unlike necromantic power, suggesting that her magic was now fully within that realm. Then she just vanished, swallowed up by darkness, seeming to travel within shadows. With another flare she reappeared on the docks, her power like a headache that Bryn could follow to her location. He didn't see her initial interaction with the fisherman as he strode after her. He simply glared at the gate guards and was allowed through, the beginning of dawn's transformation already beginning to drain the life from his face.

By the time Bryn had reached the docks and could see Chae talking to the fisherman, tendrils of her dark power granting her slight form a menacing air, his face was wasted to that of a dessicated corpse, his golden hair turned thin and white. His gloved hands brought the iron crown and placed it on his brow almost by reflex, the glow granting him an otherworldly aura far beyond that of his horrific appearance. Gone was the warrior, Bryn now looked as if he could be some long dead king returned to retake his realm. Grasping the tail end of what Chae was asking he simply said, "I believe the lady was asking for the location of necromancers in this city. Sailors hear everything eventually." His voice, although still human had a whispering, ethereal quality to it, as if the speaker wasn't fully physical.