"That's true." Rimau said, acknowledging Mysaren's affirmation of the world's grey morality scales. "'Course, where I come from, they didn't think o' magic in moral terms. More in... ethical terms, if y'know what I mean." Rimau scratched the back of his head as he stopped briefly to observe a small fork in the road. He had to lift one of his goggle lenses off his eye for a moment since the mountains were obscured by thick forestation. As he was doing this, he idly asked "B'what makes y'think Necromancy is real important an' 'onest compared t'all the other magicist disciplines?" The old Zizz paused for a moment, when it dawned on him that the lady might take the question the wrong way, thus forcing a verbal cut-and-paste before professional discipline broke down. He's seen it happen before. More than a person should, if professional organisation in general is to be trusted. "...Just out o' curiousity, y'understand. Believe me, I'm in no position t'be judgin' folks." Listening to whatever Mysaren had to say about this, he eventually turned left, placing his lenses back on his properly, and continued down the path. But it wasn't long before he idly sniffed the air with his tongue, and could sense that familiar stench of death again. Except this time it was coming from in front of him, so it couldn't have been Mysaren. He stopped and held his hand up. "...D'you smell that, kid? ...There's a body 'round 'ere somewhere." He paused and sniffed again, turning his head towards what looked like a ditch just beyond a lining of trees.

“I understand. Still the same concept, though.” Mysaren said, glad that Rimau agreed with her. She was always afraid of finding someone who didn’t agree with magic, and she’d end up dead in a ditch somewhere. “Necromancy, well, it’s not just about raising people from the dead you know. It’s about harnessing death, harnessing people’s energy, speaking with the dead, even. It’s death, and death is important, Rimau, as important as anything else, because death isn’t the end, it’s a new beginning! Death is just shedding your old skin and moving on to a higher plane, to explore new places and go on more adventures.” Mysaren perhaps was a bit too passionate about death. “Oh, I know, it’s alright. “ She said, stopping when he held his hand up. Mysaren sniffed as well, the familiar smell of corpses filling her nose. She sighed. “Yes, I do.” She said, turning towards the ditch as well. Mysaren walked towards where Rimau was looking, to pull back a few branches and see the body that was in the ditch. “Recently dead, judging by the sword wound in his stomach it wasn’t natural causes. “ She stepped towards the body, kneeling down and looking it over. “Rimau, come here. I want to try something.”

"...Poor bastard." Rimau said, following after Mysaren to marvel at the dead fellow. Just goes to show desensitised both of them were to death. Most people would probably keel over and eject last week's breakfast onto the grass. "Does that look like a robber to... hmm?" Rimau was about to ask the sort of questions that might be asked by the hypothetical 'crime scene investigation' people he dreamed up earlier, but that was overwritten with intrigue once Mysaren offered to show him something. Probably something involving the corpse. "Well, y'do whatever it is, an' I ain't gonna ask questions. Yer the dead people expert after all, heh."

Mysaren nodded. “Died pretty violent, it looks like. “ She said, inspecting the body more, her gloved hands playing over the bag on the ground. She flipped it open and frowned. “Looted.” “Does look an awful lot like a robber. Let me try this.” She pulled a bundle of herbs from her pack, and lit a match to set the herbs on fire. She waved the herbs over the body, lowly chanting in strange language. With that, the body beneath them opened it's eyes, and it's head turned towards Mysaren. “Who are you?” It asked. “How did you die?” Mysaren said, straight to the point. She kept waving the herbs over the body, and she didn't have much time. She needed the information fast. “Tried to steal some mask from my buddies. They stabbed me in the bloody stomach!” The corpse said, the voice sounding distant and strange. Mysaren nodded. “Where are your buddies now? I can get revenge on them for you.” Revenge was usually what motivated most ghosts. The corpse was silent, before it spoke again. “Up in them mountains. There's a weird, pointy rock, looks like pyramid shape, yeah? That marks where they are. Can you kill the bastards for me?” Mysaren grinned. “Of course.” With that, she blew out the herbs, and the corpse went still again, it's eyes closing.

Rimau looked on with bewilderment as he saw Mysaren do... whatever it was she was doing. The sight of a corpse talking was... it was the sort of thing he'd seen in nightmares. He'd never in a million years suspected he'd actually see it happen, even with the hundreds and hundreds of other weird things he'd seen throughout his life. Perhaps it was symbolic. Then again, he couldn't help but snicker to himself when the ex-alive person said he was stabbed in the 'bloody stomach'. It certainly was a bloody stomach. "...Huh." He finally 'said' once the dead kid returned to his natural state. "...Well, promise is a promise, I ain't askin' questions... much as I'd like to." He mumbled the last part under his breath. Maybe he'd ask questions later. Like what would happen if he smoked those herbs. "So 'e say's 'ere's a Pyramid rock in front o' the cave, eh?" Rimau finally got back on task, turning away from the body to get set on the road again. "...Why'd I get the feelin' I heard o' that before..."

Mysaren stood and threw the burnt bundle of herbs into a nearby bush, looking over at Rimau. "Uhm, sorry, probably should've warned you about that," She said, dusting off her robes and climbing out of the ditch to look back down the path. "and you can ask as many questions as you want, I don't particularly care. Questions are perfectly fine." Mysaren didn't blame him if he wanted to ask questions, considering she didn't exactly warn him about what she was going to do with the corpse. She looked into her bag. She still had a few bundles of those herbs if she needed to talk to any more dead, good. "Yeah, pyramid rock. That at least makes the place a bit easier to find, yeah?" She said, chewing on her lip as she waited for Rimau to lead the way to the mountains. She didn't really like leading anyways. She looked back down at the body as she waited. There was always a chance of the corpse doing something... weird after she talked to it, but it seemed to be perfectly fine. Well, as fine as a dead thing could be.

"New meat don't get no reward till he proofs 'imself." Drubbins says, his massive frame creating load thuds with every step. "I'm Drubbins, and I been at dis so long I know how it works. I been under alot a Bosses over da years. Been under snake blokes before too. You know dem snakes blokes down on dat island out dere? I was wif dem for a while."

“Well, I’ll help to find the dog and the house, and that’s my share of the rewards. You do the krumpin’, that’s half and half,” Saha replied. “Do you mean the Emerald Isle? Over on the eastern side?” The Naga were spread far and wide. Individual tribes ranged in ethics and features and what she had heard of the Isle had been unpleasant tales. The group of Naga that dominated the island were cutthroats and pirates. Once in a while, they crossed into the mainland and left terror in their wake. She suspected Drubbins had been used by them. “What kind of work did you do for them?” she asked neutrally. “I’ve heard stories about them but a first hand account from you might be more trustworthy than hearsay.”

"Well..." Drubbins said shutting down everything else from the effort of remembering. "Don't kno' de island, but I was working fer dis pirate Boss, see, before we was attacked by snake blokes like you. So we get in dis huge scrap, yeah, with de snakes, and one of em puts a spear in Da Bosses head. Dat took da fight right outta us, so dey scooped us all up and took us ta meet da new Boss which was dis huge snake bloke wif, like, lotsa arms, an he tells us dat we gonna be diggin' up dese statues from dis old place. So we go dere and we dig fer a long time and we bring up all dese statues and I was real good at it 'cause they was so big, so Da Boss let me put em up in this, like, big circle. And after dat Da Boss brought us all up and started krumpin' us in front of de statues, but I'm real tough so dey 'ad a hard time of it wit me. Got a thick neck, couldn't choke me like de other boys. So Da Boss comes down and decided to krump me personal like, but den someone screams 'Navy!" and everyfing just starts blowin' up and dese human blokes run up da hill and deres another huge scrap and fink I fell off a cliff." "Woke up on one a dem navy blokes boats, takin' me ta be hanged fer piratin' seeing as how I was now tech-nical-cally de captain." Drubbins finishes. "Never been a captain before. Felt nice." He adds wistfully.

“Are you sure your old boss had many arms?” Saha asked, reserving her instinctive distaste at the idea that the Gruen had harnessed such dark magic that they could physically deform themselves; or more likely than not the dumb ogre recollected wrongly and embellished details in the haziness of his memory. The Era tribe instilled a sense of reverence towards Nature, the basis of their magic, along with the philosophy that there was always a cost to an advantage, and for them, physical strength wasn’t their strong suit.

“Naga are as different to each other as the stones in the river,” she continued. “No two tribes are the same in thinking. If what you say is true, I’m sorry you saw the worst of us.”

Thunder rumbled; a flash of white lightened the sky near the mountains at a distance. Moments later fat raindrops covered the terrain. Saha was no stranger to living in the wild and was as comfortable in the heat as in water, but she had the sense the rain and possible storm would have the dog scurry into hiding.

“8 Bright Avenue should be down this way,” she said, hurrying towards the peripheral, residential area of the town. “There’s a tavern a few streets from here, maybe we can ask the locals and see if the mutt is scavenging around.”

Drubbins thudded along behind as the raindrops plinked down on his head. He reached over and held one massive hand over his companions head, so as to shield him from the rain. Smart blokes doing smart thinking on his behalf deserved it. He'd have just started looking around for a dog. He didn't know where anyplace in the city was. This was the benefit of hanging around with someone who could think good, they were full of ideas.

"Yeah. More den a bug, and dats more arms den anyfing needs. I get by wifout dat many."

Then he started whistling. He wasn't very good at it on account of his large underbite, but the guy that taught him hadn't had any lips. He knew that dogs liked whistling.

Rimau looked back at the corpse again, with a look of danger on his face. He had to do something. Just to be on the safe side. Not that he couldn't handle a single zombie, but it'd be far more convenient to deal with it before it got to its feet.

"...Better safe than sorry, y'know."

Having verbally established that, he walked back over to the corpse, removed his machete from his belt and proceeded to stab the dead robber in the skull, destroying the brain inside. At the very least, he'd heard that a zombie with no brain was just a shuffling moron.

"Sorry 'bout that..." He stated apologetically, as he strenuously withdrew the giant knife from the man's head, allowing out-of-date blood to spew out in places. "...'Bout those Pyramid rocks..."

He paused once again to grunt as he finally removed the knife, having had to acquire support by placing one foot on the man's neck. He coughed, cleaning the blade on the man's clothes. He doubted that he'd take them with him to whatever afterlife he believed in.

"...I kinda meant I heard o' Pyramid rocks before. One o' those ol' bits o' junk left lyin' around by ancient civilisations or somethin'. Eroded an' whatnot."

The old lizard scratched the back of his neck before finally setting himself back on course in a very nonchalant fashion, acting as if he hadn't just stabbed a dead guy in the head. No vomit or nothing.

"...S'pose I could jus' be imaginin' things, though. Anyways, I reckon we're gettin' close t'the base o' the mountains. Those dumbasses are probably in the valley. If they can't move a frickin' golden mask up walls, I doubt they're the outdoorsy kind."

His giant hand roofed her from the rain. It sheltered almost the width of her, so that only the sides of her arms and clothing were splattered by drops. Saha looked up at the ogre, whose long and thick limbs lumbered in small steps so as to match her pace. She was a little touched by his kind and strangely thoughtful gestures and realised that, like herself, neither his appearance nor race was a good summary of who he was. “Thank you for doing that,” she said, pointing at his hand above her head in case he missed the message.

They were close to the tavern when he whistled suddenly; she flinched and pressed her fingers to her ears. The sound was loud and piercing without any sense of a melody. It was a jargon of notes, discordant and uncomfortable. She was surprised to feel a bare trace of magic, from an ogre no less, that tried and failed to pull her into its ugly embrace. The noise travelled the distance; within moments, howls and barks chorused in reply. Villagers shouted at their dogs for silence. Doors and gates were clawed. Saha felt the air tremble: a horde of dogs from all directions rushed at them.

They were surrounded by by dozens of excited yelps and whines and panting and wagging, although a few at the outer rim of the group snarled at Saha. The closest sniffed at her waist, nudged their noses into her sides - she tried to push them away - and took off with the packet of meat that was quickly devoured. She stood hemmed in by warm furry eager dogs: seven or eight of them were in varying shades of yellow. “Peanut?” she asked. “PEANUT!” They milled jovially.

"'Ello boys!" He said excitedly, looking around at the thronging mass of dog that now surrounded them. He tried not to step on one as they we've in and out around his legs. "Dat's never 'appened befor."

While Saha tried calling out for Peanut Drubbins cut out the middle man and just started picking up yellow dogs, which he laid across his shoulders like furs. For the most part they'd just sit there panting a bit before getting up and jumping back down, but a few seemed content to just hang out up there.

“My mentor always said that magic began at the point of intent and purpose, the wielder conducted the flow of power,” Saha replied. “You’re smarter than you look, Big Guy.”

Drubbins could carry the dogs on his shoulders but several suspects were still on the loose. The crowd was dispersing, the dogs ambled away now that he had stopped whistling. She thought to grab two herself but animals could be unpredictably aggressive at her, so she asked Drubbins, “The house is in these couple of streets. Do you think you can keep whistling - quieter - so that the mutts will follow us?”

"Sure fing boss." Drubbins replied, taking up his tuneless whistling again.

It was slow going. He had to shuffle to avoid stepping on any of them, barely picking up his feet as he moved, but they eventually reached the house that Saha pointed out to him. Stopping his whistling, he sucked in his breath and yelled out at the house, "Oi! You was the ones what wanted dogs?"

The red door cracked open emitting dim candlelight behind a young man. His thin pale face peered out and he glanced down at a dog sniffing at the threshold hungrily. It scratched at the door but the man was steadfast in keeping it out. “H-h-hello,” he stammered at Drubbins. His eyes widened at the group of mutts gathered around the ogre. “I-I don’t want no trouble, mister.”

“We’ve got your dog,” Saha said. “Which one of these is yours?”

“Peanut? You’ve got Peanut?” He opened the door wider to take a better look but didn’t step outside. “That one!” He stretched out a lanky arm and pointed at one of them that resembled the others. “That’s him! Peanut! Come here, boy!”

When neither the man nor the dog made any move towards each other, Saha took the yellow mutt by its scruff and walked it to its owner. He was grinning and quickly let Peanut inside then shut the door. “Please wait!” came the muffled words. The timid man reopened it just long enough to pass Saha a small pouch. “T-Thank you! This means a lot to me and my wife!”