Reading was a difficult, demeaning task for the Yokai. After much struggle and heartache he'd only acquired a small child's level of literacy that was as illegible to others as common writing was to him. And so he was here at last - in the Nostvale castle library, after weeks of searching. It was not an easy thing to find as a stubborn Yokai too proud to ask for aid.

A threatening glare to a timid scholar, and Sinh was on his way to extracting the skill from the human-filth. Regular visits however were demanded; as hours rolled by each day, Sinh found that acquiring the ability to read and write was not so simple... has he been a Kaor still, this task would be all but too frustrating. Since ascending however a certain mental keeness he now possessed aided him just enough to put the task within reach.

In the past few months, he obsolesced the need of the scholar and began to read and write on his own. It was a strange font practiced by a peculiar hand to be sure - a hand which did not need to obey the same physics as the human counterpart. Vocabulary he possessed already from extensive telepathic exchange and decades of oral communication, and with mild work joined by steady effort, Sinh had prowess as a literary being.

But in acquiring such he came to realize the vastness of human recollection. There were many books on magic he read - yet lacking in a conventional human's mana circuitry, these were techniques he would never be using. Time magic, cosmic magic, the distortion of space and manipulation of raw energies. He had never imagined humans would be capable of so much. The more Sinh delved into the more he realized something.

Human civilization was less than a ball of ants clinging together, and more a single force composed of many souls. He learned of inventions, architecture, structures that stood for centuries and the greater achievements of mankind. In the end it was organization, knowledge and most of all heritage that empowered humanity; because they were but ants, nothing seemed to be lost with the individual perishing. Their knowledge, creations and legacy would live on in those after them.

And for a Yokai with no legacy but the scars he left upon the land, that was a terrifying thing... closing the last of the castle tome's he was interested in with a dull thud, the months of study and practice came to an end, With them, a new goal: the destruction of human culture, heritage and most importantly - all records of knowledge.

It was too powerful a thing. Frighteningly powerful.
(Sinh Mourn)

The previously gut-wrenching presence of Mourn was no less comfortable, but at least Eutan could become accustomed to such a thing. The pain that existed within his stomach was akin to the struggle that one underwent when starving; easy enough to ignore, if you didn't mind the excruciating distraction. Everything below his torso felt empty, and... dark, as if something other-worldly or alien had taken the place of his innards. While that was likely untrue, the sensation was disturbing, regardless of whether or not it was reality.

Eutan shifted his glance to the Yokai, inspecting its blade with great interest. "Where was that blade forged, might I ask?", he questioned, realizing the quality of the sword that Mourn wielded upon his back. The thing was remarkable, to say the least, and bared the glow of magma; a terrifying flame of some sort lightly lurked within, similar in nature to the shine that its owner wore when utilizing his magic. The Imperfect certainly hadn't utilized any percentage of his full power, but the potential was there. Eutan desired to view it so greatly...

Another time, he supposed. Patiently, he waited for a response. Although, his shaking leg suggested otherwise, as if the Harukean wished to know more about his cohort at a faster rate. Whether or not Mourn would respond accordingly, he couldn't be sure. Upon the teenager's back, his staff clanged, loosely hanging from his the collar of his cloak via a somewhat sturdy steel chain. It crashed against whatever was held within the cloth of the Seers, likely some form of armor or plating.
(Eutan Haruke)

A potent scoff loosed from the Yokai. He shook his head at the human, proud of the molten glass blade joined with twisted onyx-black metal floating just inches off his back. It loosed a persist, hissing sizzle. "A Kaor Blade is not forged, wielder of the Occult." He spoke before raising a gloved hand upward and seizing the hilt of the mighty weapon; brandishing it, he lowered the thing in his grasp. Flames coursed about its length and licked at the every inch of undulating, liquid-hot glass that composed the cruel instrument's serpentine edge.

A look of pride was upon the Yokai's face. Unlike Eva, his presence was not despair. It wasn't sorrow or sickness either - it was heat, wrath, bloodlust and the call to a mind numbing frenzy. The air around them heated up with the twice-ascended Infernus' fiery presence simply by him standing there, blade in hand. "It is an extension of its creator and their will... In short, the blade is me." Spoke the overfiend before releasing Mournblade; it rose rather than fall as his hand turned loose of the hilt. In a single motion, the fiery sword then levitated upward and placed itself near his back once more.

Crossing his arms clad in chitinous black gauntlets, he stared intently into the young human's gaze. "Have you any other questions?" Asked the Yokai with some exasperation, perhaps less than amused. The Occultist had hunted with him and so despite their somewhat shrink-prone demeanor Sinh would answer them with boldness and clear speech. They warranted that, as member of their flesh-seeking pack... or so primal mentality would entail.
(Sinh Mourn)

 The presence of Mourn obviously offered more than just a simple feeling of depravity. The monster unleashed a wave of heat, and suddenly, it was hotter than the Sarab could ever hope to be. Eutan had travelled the place many times, each venture proving more difficult that the last. His trips were completely and absolutely filled to the brim with hunger, thirst, and most importantly: heat... However, that couldn't hope to compare to the pressure that Sinh emanated. It was like to the emissions of a flame in searing potential, yet somehow... more depraved.

Coughing in the mist of invisible temperature, Eutan managed to pronounce, "Yes, I have but one more inquiry; why must my father be so enamored with you?", he asked, recalling Arachnis's sheer need to remember the Yokai's original aura, or 'mana circuit', as the spider-like magi had deemed it. The younger Harukean hadn't been able to view the sorts of things that his father could, but... Eutan believed the notion, likely out of naught but faith. The two were the last few members of a race that had been forced through genocide...

There was no reason not to trust eachother. Eventually, however, the teenager was pulled back from his thoughts, forced to wipe water from his eyes as a result of the stinging pain. The continuation of Mourn, as the Imperfect Yokai believed the blade to be, emitted immensely potent waves of fiendish strength. To be on the opposing end of that sword would be akin to facing a legendary item like Durendal, bane of the Holy, or Dawnbringer, bane of the Occult. Mourn was ultimately amongst those of legend, after all, and Eutan greatly desired more knowledge on the creature.
(Eutan Haruke)


Enamoured; Sinh had learned that work some scant few days ago. Amused, he shook his head, unsure of how to answer the human. "I do not know." He spoke aloud. He didn't even know who the boy's father was... but, Sinh did so love to be adored. Vain and self obsessed the prospect of admiration was a boon he would take any day. As the heat continued to rise around them, Sinh and turned his head toward the streets.

He didn't even glance at the stranger ahead. "I've something to attend to. Important." He expressed, raising a chitin-clad hand and turning to depart. There was indeed no trust to be had between them; but there was also no obvious threat from Sinh, aside from the likely fall of humanity - something Eutan expressed a great distance from. His cloak swayed about him with an unnatural sheen as he braced himself to leave.

Kokb'ael controlled the rulers of Valmasia with power alone, for a time... humans longed to indulge themselves and would disregard fatality and destruction for that pursuit. He, too, would create his own mark - albeit he would need a power source and a source of strength to call upon. Though a thought had crossed his mind... why not simply tap into the untouched, ultimate potential within humans, at the price of all else to them?

With his newfound knowledge, Sinh set out in search of a reputable rune writer and necromancer for the seers.
(Sinh Mourn)

[10:57:16] Escarlate: For every finger that would touch her body, hundreds of their men would face death.
[10:57:16] Dominic Falco: As I said, it's fine. Jus' take it up with Aria.
[10:57:16] Dominic Falco: We'll make the arrangements.
[10:57:16] Escarlate: <*Nods.*>
[11:00:41] Sinh Mourn: Greetings, hat-wearer.
[11:01:32] Sinh Mourn: I have come seeking what you are skilled in.
[11:02:24] Dominic Falco: Ah. Y'mean the rune stuff?
[11:02:24] Dominic Falco: Or the occult stuff?
[11:03:15] Dominic Falco: Or the zombie stuff?
[11:03:15] Dominic Falco: Or...
[11:03:15] Dominic Falco: <*He prattles on and on about several facets of his power.*>
[11:03:15] Escarlate: ...Right, runes.
[11:03:15] Escarlate: I forgot about that...
[11:04:06] Kyn Antares: <*Stares at the talking show.*>
[11:04:06] Kyn Antares: (Lol)
[11:05:48] Sinh Mourn: Runes. Souls. Something in-between.
[11:05:48] Sinh Mourn: I will owe you my aid if you will share your knowledge.
[11:05:48] Sinh Mourn: I seek to produce something.
[11:07:31] Dominic Falco: Oh? Such as?
[11:09:13] Sinh Mourn: A mark- to produce contracts such as Kokb'ael's. I've a different power source in mind.
[11:09:13] Sinh Mourn: I do not wish to discuss it in the open.
[11:10:56] Dominic Falco: Then let us not be open.

 With a nod, Sinh turns and leads the man forward - to the Inn! Or, at least, what used to be the inn... a strange Occult presence hangs about the place, countless lesser Yokai slowly scuttling about. None of the lamps or candles are lit leaving the only light within from the windows. Tables are broken, stools overturned, Yokai blood smeared about...

It seems Sinh has a tiny force prepared here. Broken black eggs and patches of yet unbroken ones laid in old barrels and dark, damp corners fill the room. For light, Sinh lifts a stool and sets it atop one of the counters, before spitting a glob of fiery molten fluid upon it; the furnishing is immediately ignited, illuminating the room and driving off some of the lesser Yokai.

... The inn had seen better days...

Refocusing upon Dominic, Sinh spoke. "Despite having so little time in this world - you humans do not use your full potential. Never. Only a rare few do that." He expressed, an alien and abstract anomaly to the Yokai. "... Kokb'ael's source is derived from humanity. So too will be mine. Except, I will forcibly unlock and burn what is within the human to fuel their profit in power." Detailed the Yokai with a risen index finger. "But." He began; this was a contract, after all. No one would simply unlock a person's every human restraint without expecting something dear in return.

He continued. "For that power. Their soul will be mine, transferred to a mark on my own back... a large one. Capable of holding a number of souls. A sliver of their might and some of their memory, ideally, should come with it." He further expressed. This was all fantasy at the moment, but it could very well become something tangible with the resources available. "The souls would be released only once I have made full use of their power. Perhaps a... a trigger could be made, granting a burst of strength for a short time in exchange for loosing one of them. I care not for restraining their will terribly - only that they act in my benefit." Concluded the Yokai, with a smug grin. He seemed proud of his idea.
(Sinh Mourn)

Following behind the quickly learning imperfect, Dominic surveyed the scene in front of them. What features were able to be percieved through the omnipresent umbra left the necromancer frowning ever so gently at the waste. "We got lamps 'n candles, y'know. Makes it look nice..."

Still, everyone had the right to furnish their home as they saw fit, and if Mourn wanted to make his look like a mess? It would be up to him to eventually clean it when his lessers end up braining themselves after tripping on a spray piece of wood or ember.

Lifting a gilded tome of purple orichalcium in his hands, Dominic took eager notes on the work Mourn has proposed. A quiet skritch-scratch of metal upon parchment echoed through the darkness, his legs brushing away whatever lesser deigned to approach and observe.

"I guess it's possible." Dominic interjected, finishing up the last of the recording. "I don't know how it'd be possible just yet, but if we spoke to Kok'bael? Got the right runes? You found a powersource within you that only imperfects have access to? I don't see why it couldn't work. It's just magic, and magic is pretty malleable, 'eah? Hardest thing will be creating the thing on your back to absorb the souls but, again, Kok'bael might have that covered. Just need to ask."
(Dominic Falco)

 The stool burned quite steadily whilst Sinh beheld the man. He eagerly awaited an answer - leads were proffered, which was excellent. Sinh had no idea what to expect here but he was determined to acquire the same capabilities as the elder Imperfect. This time he watched and read the notes, finally capable of doing so.

He was not content to simply wait until the next time he had Dominic and Kokb'ael cornered together, however- he could do his own work toward it in the meantime, haphazard and difficult as it might've been. "My thanks. Something more however; I do not promise a favor so easily." He expressed, seeming to value the use of his strength.

He continued. "I am capable of reading now; strange penchant as it is. You know exactly what I wish to know, reputed amongst the Seers for your craft. I seek tomes pertaining to both runes and transference." He spoke - now this was getting a bit simpler. "As for Kokb'ael, I shall speak with him." He added on a muted note; he was not sure how cooperative the elder Imperfect would be, warranting a bit of speech and forethrought before arranging anything with Dominic.
(Sinh Mourn)

"Ah! You're mastered literacy! Would you know that I'm proud? It seems less and less people are aiming for the that level of linguistic talent now a days! A real shame." Taking a moment to allow his words to linger, Dominic immediately pulled out a large book-bag from his belongings, riffling through it's contents before immediately beginning to hand several tomes over--before immediately bringing the tomes back to his side.

The scholar's eyes's squinted as he overlooked Mourn's form, suddenly realizing a certain flaming motief the imperfect seemed to carry with him. Flames? Dry patchment? That's a terrible mixture!

"Alright, first thing's first. Books are easy to burn. So y'gotta tone down y'heat if y'wanna get anywhere with these. Alright?" Again he took a moment to let the words sink in before handing the tomes over to Mourn once more. A child's text on Beginning Rune-writing, detailing the basic symbols and the most effortless combinations that were safe for aspiring children. An intermediate text on syntax and grammar on the 'language' of runewriting, then a series of personal notes that Dominic often uses to teach other good runewriters how to become as good as he was.

Finally, after a series of ruffling around in his bag, Dominic pulled out one final tome. A large, unmarked black text containing the rites of soul transferrance and embueing souls into objects. "This is meant more for enchanting blades and the such but I think if you get creative? It'll do for what you need."
(Dominic Falco)

A familiar smirk crossed his features at the praise. Of course the human was elated! So, too, was Sinh. Mastery of foolish human knowledge and gaining awareness of their collection thereof were vital steps in his future. It was difficult for him to accept that he was not yet in the lieu of Kzer-za in might... but one day, he would be. And he would enforce the whims he stifled for the survival of himself and the Yokai without remorse when such a time came.

Fortunately it drew near; with a forewarning, tomes were proffered. It was here! The path to a glorious future, paved with the flesh of marked minions writhing beneath his heels. In a fit of sheer greed a steady and firey light exuded slowly from the Imperfect's irises as he listened. "Yes... yes. Yes!" Murmured the Yokai almost in a chant as he carefully took the tomes. "Do not fear. Even if there should be some accident, I can disperse flame as swiftly as I may produce it." Boasted the Imperfect, a master of all that pertained to raw pyromancy.

... Probably not all that significant considering between that, darkness and his sword, he had little else going for him apart from shapeshifting. "I will be -extremely- creative, human..." Added the overfiend as if the man were challenging him. Clearly he was not, but, this seemed to be the Yokai's way of functioning. "My thanks. I will join you in slaughtering your enemies like hu... boars, in exchange for this." Promised the fiendish being.
(Sinh Mourn)

"Ah, about that. There is to be an exception made in the next battle and for the rest of the war. Do you recall Anariel Melym and her occultist, Noel?" Dominic's hands clasped together, a wide smile forming over his face as he recalled the previous agreement. "They are to be spared their lives in the coming conflicts. Their son, too. Yet he will not be on the fields. They are close to shifting their mentalities into our side and I don't wish to lose potential, valuable allies."

With that the man turned, fitting the various pouches and bags back into the myriad of folds of his robes, disguising a plethora of objects once more behind several tiny layers of cloth. Patting himself off of dust and ash, Dominic turned to head towards the exit.

"Death and destruction is good and all, but some lives are worth more then others. Sometimes sacrifices need to be made for the greater good of us all. I know how much you wish to consume them, but there will be a time for that much later."
(Dominic Falco)

[12:08:57] Sinh Mourn: Amusing. I offer to kill your enemies, and you ask me to not kill them.
[12:09:48] Sinh Mourn: Very well; I have no idea who these beings are, but I will not knowingly claim those by the names you have said.
[12:09:48] Dominic Falco: Thank you. You have my gratitude and respect, Mourn.
[12:09:48] Sinh Mourn: Sinh.
[12:10:40] Dominic Falco: ...Sinh, then. My gratitude and respect, Sinh.
[12:10:40] Sinh Mourn: I will seek you another time when I have answers from Kzer-za.
[12:10:40] Dominic Falco: I will be eager to help!
[12:10:40] Sinh Mourn: <*Nod. Fire horns somehow alter the impression of the gesture.*>
[12:12:22] Dominic Falco: I will be off, then. You know where to find me.
[12:12:22] Dominic Falco: And Rosier, too. She might be of help.
[12:12:22] Sinh Mourn: ... Oh. I owe her a spar.
[12:13:13] Dominic Falco: <*Begins to exit!*>
[12:13:13] Sinh Mourn: <*Extinguishes the stool, then places the tomes within a chest. It is locked.*>