<font color='#000000'>Don't read if you don't particularly like gore or detailed description of rotting corpses! XD;;; Day <s>IIII</s> I Tessera 81337 Boredom or adventure; what had brought Gyali Fronima to such a "prized" batch of boiling swampland, marsh, and tar pits so unlike his birth territory? Either could be valid, as surely something had led the translucent burial Master to such a depressive place. Though of course, depression meant death, and for Gyali, death meant work. Excellent combination, he mused, while calmly tracing a fine path around a particular tar pit and craning his neck into its depths. His snout never met the burning black susbtance, but he fearlessly dipped his right foreleg into the pit and grasped what he had been looking for. Aha. And there, clutched in Gy's fist, was the half-decayed skull of a pendragon. Mm.. crispy. Chuckling, the "water spirit" twitched his ear fins a few times. The burnt smell of incrusted flesh was quite pungent, and tickled the male's sensitive ears to an extent. He was used to it, of course, but could anyone ever really adapt to digging up and burying dead individuals? The skull was fairly 'fresh', in burial terms. Maggots were beginning to eat away at the major flesh, and the eye sockets lay empty. Small sinewy tendrils of muscle hung limply from the bone, no longer able to hold themselves together, which Gyali found quite interesting. Of course, this was Gyali's form of "interesting," which could include pickled feet, cryogenic freezing methods, and spontaneous pendragon combustion.</font>
<font color='#000080'>ooc: *bounces* oooohh.... lets plop incendi in here... ic: Incendi padded along silently through the swamp, placing her feet carefully to avoid being sucked down into the muck. Miska on the other hand, had no problem traversing the terrain, slithering along at a leisurely pace, occasionally darting into some odd bit of flora to explore. They were both in rather chipper moods, though not that uncommon in the spitting tmuka they were infact quite rare in Incendi. Ice blue fur flashed in a ray of sunlight that had leaked through to touch the ground as she bounded along. The pendragon rather liked the swamps though it was a far cry from the wastes of Druhv. but she liked the over all atmosphere and she was considering turning the place into a sort of home to replace her nomadic wanderings. She offered the Miska a grin as he wound up her leg to perch around her neck Lovely day don't you think? Another job well done, and a brand new dagger among the reward She paused as the breeze brought a new scent to her nose. Incendi let another grin grace her maw, she knew the smell of death well. And where death was she would go, after all, surely something interesting or entertaining was afoot. She changed her course and bounded off, occasionally using her telekinetic powers to avoid bogging herself down. Soon she had arrived within sight of one of the sticky black pools that lurked in the swamp. Miska flicked out a forked tongue before burying his face in her fur in revulsion. Incendi on the other hand tilted her head at the sight she beheld. She approached the rather strange individual, throwing caution to the wind. She gave the decayed skull a close look and glanced over at Gyali. "Nice skull you got there. Might i inquire as to what you're doing with it?"</font>
<font color='#000000'>"Kmccakt es? Klaum es? Numi ygseymt." Gyali cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at the ancient female that stood nearby. His transparent skin rippled serenely and portrayed a display of shimmering blues and clears. The tongue in which he had spoken was a rich Ramathian, one of which he spoke fluently and extensively since his birth. He also know Cesarrian, but such an old language would not be understood by a single pendragon in the complex.</font>
<font color='#000080'>Incendi tiltred her head as her ears were confronted by a speech that she hadn't heard spoken so well in years. most of her customers rarely ever spoke it to her and she was not one to hold lengthy discusions with scholars usually. She didn't quite catch the first part of the stranger's speach but she she caught the rest. Incendi tilted her head and though her ramathian was heavily accented it was understandable. "Ty fhus rjemdt tynayma yv sha tau ty vuj vjyn hyna? Iyo tgauc junusheum fall ty e uttona shus iyo uja tynayma yv us lauts naudaj emsallaks." Incendi knew the language well though she was no scholar, she'd learned it long ago as a sort of trade language before she had mastered the common tongue that the southern pendragon's favored.</font>
<font color='#000000'>"Iyo uja woekc sy uttona tokh shemdt." The mortician's eyes strayed not from the rotten cranium, minutely examining each spore of mold or fiber of ancient scales. This particular individual was scarcely older than forty'o when (he regarded the jawline) she perished. Gyali seemed rather calm - almost a quiet resignation that hinted that he was neither threatened nor incredibly awed by the seemingly archaic 'dragon that forestood him. A calculative eye maneuvered upwards to make contact with the stranger's once again, and the Cessarian hybrid gave a distinct head tilt. Meager intellect, hm? Brushing it off, the telekinetic Master gingerly lowered the skull and rested a rather water-adapted paw atop it, claws hooked loosely in the eye sockets.</font>
