"Please, Mr. Black. I know this is a rather unorthodox request, but will you please check on my brother? Since his peculiar behavior seems to be related to a family tome you retrieved for him, we had hoped you could be of assistance…"

Worried words spoken to Sebastian in Adeluna echoed in his mind as he ran a sharpened and oiled blade smoothly over his scalp. The lamp light gleaming on the razor sent rippling shimmers across a blessedly calm, dark Nyella from the deck of his boat; fleeting lights that seemed to flit to and fro like insects across the bowing and cresting surface of the water, and rejoin the radiant hives that were the reflections of the moons. Upon the table that the lamp and grooming kit sat lay two open journals  - one his own, and the other belonging to the young man in question. Unfortunately, the poor lad's family couldn't even begin to grasp how harrowing his circumstances had become. Necromancy was no trifle matter.

Taking up the last locks of hair in his grasp, Sebastian walked ceremoniously to the boat's stern, scattering his hair behind him into the sea. He retained little from his forgotten childhood in Runcible Grove, but this quaint folk estotericism he would always remember for tragedy and transition. Indeed, this would be the last job for the learn-ed rogue of the underground, for he was no longer that man. The Mystic's newly cultivated spirituality, tempered through the tribulations brought on by the profaned, eldritch things that seeped into the world in the previous year…it brushed against the grains of his old life. These two parts of him could not coexist. One could not profess to protect those in need while also circulating dangerous information about without care.

There was a sudden shift in the depths that violently rocked the boat, causing Sebastian's heart to skip a beat. Autumn gaze following the dark shape that moved to the side of the boat, his eyes widened when it partially rose from the water. It was a whale, a great leviathan, surfacing for a breath of air. Sebastian exclaimed loudly, then roared with laughter as the entirety of the deck was showered with water from the creature's blowhole. It seemed now that his little ceremony was complete, as it were, concluding with a baptism. He shivered with the intensity of cold the ocean water brought. The night air on Nyella was already chilled, being shoeless and shirtless, so this was a bit too much for his liking. He would be fast approaching the shores of the Southern peninsula which Perditi Cemetery lay anyhow, according to his headings. His destination. Best to dry off, dress, and prepare…

Vilpamolan had certainly drawn drawn Jazrael in, though there were a number of reasons for that. The forerunner, of course, was the fact that Dalanesca’s successor had opened up a very successful tavern and brothel there. That being said, Jazrael had yet to set foot in the establishment. It was not so much that she feared meeting the proprietor, but more so the fact that she was sure meeting her would put even more of a finality to the fact that Dalanesca was gone. She was afraid what she would say to this Serafina, or perhaps even what she would do. Since Dalanesca’s death, or disappearance - what it was referred to as depended all on who one was speaking to about it - Jazrael had felt utterly lost and adrift in the world without any direction or purpose.

She had difficulty making conversation with the people she was forced to interact with on a regular basis, being in a rather busy city. The occasional barfight certainly gave her something to keep her occupied, but it was hardly ever a fair fight. The demon, though trapped in her current form, still possessed a rather ethereal strength, but due to her feminine appearance, she was always vastly underestimated.

Eventually, after enough exploring the areas surrounding the main city, she had stumbled upon Perditi Cemetery on the outskirts of Vilpamolan. For some, a cemetery might be a rather uncomfortable place, but for Jazrael, it was almost a place of comfort. There was a near complete lack of living creatures there, and those who did appear were there to mourn someone they lost. The general spooks that seemed to appear in cemeteries and areas of their ilk generally left her alone, something she attributed to her own supernatural existence.

Every so often she would find herself at the docks nearest to the cemetery, just watching the moonlight reflect off of the water. The peacefulness was welcome to her, just as the peacefulness in the cemetery itself was. Seldom was it that she found herself interrupted or distracted.

This night was no different than many others. Jazrael sat at the edge of the water, watching the sea. In the distance, she began to make out a vessel headed towards the docks. It was of no large concern, but it was not too often that these particular docks were used. Most of the vessels coming to dock in Vilpamolan were much larger, but this vessel did not look to be of that size. This one seemed rather small, not miniscule but smaller than shipping vessels and transport ships. It would make sense as to why it would use one of the smaller docks for such a ship.

So Jazrael sat, watching the small boat head into port, mildly curious as to who was aboard it.

Having cleaned up hastily, Sebastian pulled his long dark jacket around himself tightly, fastened the hematite buttons, and pulled the hood up so as to light his pipe before pulling alongside Perditi's small dock. He inhaled deeply of the heady herbal fume, letting it billow from his nostrils as he anticipated stepping from the boat onto the dock to quickly tie off. Not planning on being long, he did this, and re-boarded to furl up the sails.

Not having seen the darkly-featured and dressed woman sitting on the docks at first, Sebastian regarded her curiously for a long while before speaking. "Miss!" He called out.
"I've business here that could get a wee bit strange. I'd advise you to be on your merry way for your own safety…"
He casually approached the stranger as he tapped the ash from his pipe into the water. His characteristically deep, lilting, and smoky voice took on a jibing tone of ominousness.
"…But you aren't quite 'normal' yourself either, are you, dear heart?"
Indeed, whatever the woman truly was, she hid it well. The aura she gave off was unmistakably inhuman, however. It made the more preternatural bits of him bristle with caution.

"You wouldn't have happened upon a troubled young lad stumbling into one of the mausoleums dotting the hilltop, would you? Sandy hair, blue eyes, a touch shorter than I?"
Sebastian gestured beyond the gates of the cemetery.
Pocketing his pipe, the Mystic then withdrew a small, onyx-encrusted golden bell with no clapper from his coat. He strode past the woman to enter the graveyard. It mattered not what she decided to do, he supposed; so long as she didn't impede his work.

"Liam!" Sebastian yelled into the darkness. Lichens and moss squished and crunched under his boots as he walked, their spores radiating a fetid, but not entirely unpleasant aroma that mingled with the many patches of nightshade thriving around the graves. Fireflies lazily flitted about, and frogs could be heard happily croaking from unseen stagnant pools of condensation along the damp earth. He was thankful for these mundane traces of life, which would inevitably flee in the presence of undeath and profaned arts.

He sighed heavily.

"Your sister is worried sick about you! Whatever it is you came here to do, it's ill advised. I found your grandfather's writings for your family's sake. I never would have dreamed you would have tried to actually follow in the old loon's footsteps!"

Autumn gaze skimming the landscape, Bash attempted to hone in on any sign of activity. After a few dozen paces more, he began to notice a foreboding stillness and quiet. He held his breath momentarily to listen.
"Lia-!"
His call was cut short as he felt something wrap around his ankle forcefully - a hand. A half-rotten, bony hand, protruding from the ground.

Seeming more annoyed by this than afeared, Sebastian grumbled in frustration, shaking the chime in what should have been a fruitless endeavor…only, melodic ringing actually did emit from the thing. Not audibly, but to the mind's ears, and possibly beyond. The sound of a labored, echoed exhalation brought a cold gust through the cemetery, and the hand grasping him fell limp.

"For godsakes, boyo, come out!"

Jazrael could see movement aboard the small vessel, but she did not come to realize that the figure had noticed her until he called out to her. She stood as he approached her, not necessarily on guard, but feeling much better than she would have had she stayed seated in the manner she had been.

She opened her mouth to affirm that she was not worried about her own well being when it seemed that he had picked up on such of his own accord. Her eyes flashed black for a moment, though the action was masked by the darkness of the evening. With a tilt of her head she gave a half a grin, as though to speak ‘guilty.’ She kicked back and forth the idea of becoming a bit more on guard - was this man hostile? It didn’t seem that way, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

”Can’t say that I have,” she answered, in response to his question of whether or not she had seen. Jazrael realized that he hadn’t stood around waiting for her answer, instead he had made his way towards the gates of the cemetery. He was clearly intent on finding this young man he had described.

After a moment, after deciding she had nothing better to do, Jazrael turned and proceeded to follow the man. She passed through the gates of the cemetery much in the same manner he had, though her movements were lithe and near silent as she passed over the ground.

Still a bit behind him, Jazrael momentarily paused as the scene unfolded before her - an undead creature seemed to have broken through the soil, grasping at the man’s leg. She had paused, bringing herself to the decision on whether or not she should act to assist him, or let it unfold on its own, seeing how it would play out. Before she could make her decision however, it seemed that he was rather capable of taking care of himself, as whatever he had done with the small bell he carried.

She could not hear a sound, but she certainly felt something rush through the cemetery. She could not place it, nor did it really affect her, but for a moment she felt a bit uneasy. The feeling subsided rather quickly, nearly as fast as it had come on, and she fixed her attention on the man. The hand that had grasped at his leg had fallen limp, and it was clear that whatever magic he had cast - something she was rather unfamiliar with - had been intended to affect the undead. As she was not technically a living creature but she was not a member of the undead, it had only caused the unease she had felt, and not the full effect.

As the man called out to the boy he was searching for once again, Jazrael took a few steps closer to him. ”Listen,’” she said as she made a movement to address him, realizing that she had not yet learned his name. ”Does this boy know that you’re looking for him? And if so, does he want to be found?” she asked him. ”Perhaps I can help you search the area for him, but I sincerely doubt that a stranger such as myself would coax him out,” she added, sounding contemplative. ”Perhaps if you told me your name, I could inform him that I’m helping you look for him?” she added. ”I’m Jazrael,” she continued, offering her own name in exchange for requesting his.

After the exchange, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, tilting her head to one side. ”Why exactly are you looking for him, anyway? I mean, I heard what you said about the writings but that makes no sense to me. Can you give me the abridged version?” she asked. It was clear that there was an important reason, and if she was going to take the time to help him look for someone, she wanted to know why.