Owen_Daxus : Neither the chill in the air nor the recently-started drizzle gave pause to Owen's movements as he tightened down the last strap in the back of the covered wagon. Giving it a final tug to ensure the reagent barrels were indeed secure, he looked upon the sextet of small casks and nodded approvingly to himself. It had taken him several tendays to be sure of what he needed and actually gather the items, some of which might have raised more than a few curious eyebrows in certain circles. As such, Owen had opted for patience rather than haste. With room remaining in the back of the wagon, Owen tossed a final thick blanket over the reagent containers and departed the wagon, stepping down onto the cobblestone street in front of the Purple Pig. "I don't expect you'll miss much," drawled Erus Nox as the white-eyed man approached Owen, reaching out to clasp the latter's arm in farewell. Owen, who'd traded the finery he wore as Treasurer for his longtime mercenary road-gear, simply smiled and clasped his second-in-command's arm in return. "At least you'll be warm and dry," Owen countered as he tugged his hood up over his head with a free hand. "Keep Ezekiel out of the whorehouses, yes? Especially if he intends to keep picking fights with the other patrons." Erus Nox heaved a sigh and shook his head. "He is young and he craves any sort of action. Immortalis has been too quiet as of late." Owen grunted noncommittally in return. "Youth is not an excuse for the likes of us. If he wants action so badly, send him to the bounty halls or let him loan his services to some of the mercenary companies. Better he gets his fill doing things that reflect well on us rather than poorly." "And what of you, old friend? What you set out to do today is like as not to draw inquiring eyes," Erus Nox countered suddenly. "This Alberdine creature you ride out with is tight to the Emperor. How do you know she won't look deeper?" Owen was quiet for a moment, his gaze hard, and Erus Nox realized he might have overstepped in how frankly he'd spoken, but Owen at last chuckled and clapped Erus Nox on the shoulder. "You see things well, old friend. Fear not, though. This course of action clears a debt and clears my conscience. I doubt the Emperor's Seneschal gives two spits how we achieved all that we've built. Deathstalker is a meritocracy, old friend! Those who can rise without openly breaking the laws and tenets of empire can reach quite high. Besides," Owen added with a grin, "It isn't as if our own interests aren't entwined with those of the larger whole." Giving up trying to sway Owen's path, Erus Nox returned the smile and turned away, heading back towards the Purple Pig and the warmth within. Around Owen, the business of finishing up preparation had been completed. Grushnag, large as he was, had already seated himself comfortably to drive, reins in hand, whilst Deimos, Cyric and Morgan had all mounted up on their horses. Morgan hated the rain and looked most annoyed, while Deimos simply looked... unperturbed. Of course, it was hard to read a man that always wore a mask. Owen conducted a final mental checklist and then moved to mount up as well. All the expedition required was the Seneschal to guide their path.

Alberdine :  It was not going to be official business for the Imperial Seneschal. Whatever reasons she had to assist Owen, they were out of her own free will and volition. An odd concept indeed considering Alberdine held no true connections to anyone but her underling and perhaps the once bag of bones Wraith. Maybe it was her age that cause the Stygian figure to feel a need to assist the Imperial Treasurer today or it was that vocation that was forever present. Alberdine was one with Death, and that dedication to giving peace to the restless eidolons, it preceded her loyalties to the Empire. Dressed in her traditional swaddling of inky fabrics, the puppeteer of death arrived at the Purple Pig. Atop her black stead Hapi, the woman’s charcoal hooded cloak kept in the warmth. Gun metla hues saw the caravan that that had gathered, and as assumed Owen selected is motley crew to accompany them. She held no real need for such assistance; however it was always better safe than sorry. The Wooldand of the Wargs was home to some threatening beings. “Mr. Daxus, I see you and your team are ready. Are you sure you still with to proceed?” The words came not at doubt but confirmation that what they were about to do might not end in the result he wanted. Going to recover lost bones of the fallen Commander of the Warriors of the Axe after all this time was testing their luck and the Fates sympathies. But it was a facet that Alberdine had witnessed people in the past to pay exorbitant amounts to do far more with far fewer favoring odds.  “Looking over the last notes given to me by the company, I think we might have some territory that I hope can give you the peace you are looking for. The was no official recovery efforts made so we might be able to find the area still untouched by man at least.” She took a pause to glance at the other with better care. “And you have given your men the right instructions. The bigger danger there will be the things we don’t see.”  The ride to the woodlands at least would be the easiest part of this adventure and it was going to give Alberdine time to press Owen with a bit more curiosity as to why he felt so compelled to find the girls remains. For her own edification, seeing how strong his ties were to the Bjarni was going to be potentially key and illuminating.

Owen_Daxus : "Ah, Lady Seneschal," Owen greeted her as she arrived to join the rest of the band. "A pleasure to see you this fine and dreary morning!" He doffed an imaginary hat from atop his steed. Unlike others he knew, he'd never named his mount. 'Horse' served as good as any name, he figured. 'Bring me Horse,' or 'Get Horse ready for a ride,' seemed to work. Then again, Owen's last three mounts had also been called 'Horse' so perhaps it was just an easy name to go with. Perhaps if he'd chosen to ride a mule, things would have been different. "as for proceeding, my Lady?" A shrug and a brief grin from under the hood. "I would not have assembled us thusly had I second thoughts about the course. Grushnag and Deimos are here to deal with the threats we can see," he gestured towards the orc and the ranger, "And Morgan and Cyric are here to deal with those that we cannot see." A second gesture towards the mage and the shade. "As for me? I'm simply here to see things done properly." The words were delivered with a grin and the traditional Daxus charm, not that he expected any of it to work on Alberdine by any means. Owen steered clear of those who worked with the dead and for good reason; he had too much to hide in that regard. "The Woodland of the Wargs, though. Hm. A lonely place to die. Then again, one supposes -any- place where one perishes is a lonely place. Fret not, Lady Seneschal. You put me in the right area and my compatriots will help find Malhin's bones before you could recite the names of the royal family." Perhaps it was fortunate that the royal family was a large family, for his words there were part boast. Finding the correct bones, all of them, would take time. Assembling them in as close to the proper order and preparing the casting would take even more, and Owen had yet to determine how he would divest himself and the party of Alberdine's presence before he could compel Thrax to appear and put all the pieces back together. Having her there was a complication in some ways, but Owen, in his own odd manner, did enjoy extricating himself out of such things. Giving a sharp whistle, he motioned for the caravan to move out, Deimos and Cyric in the lead, Grushnag driving the wagon in the middle and Morgan in the trailing end, leaving both Owen and Alberdine the ability to move where they chose. "I find it odd that no better recovery method was undertaken," he commented to Alberdine as they passed out of Immortalis' gates and onto the roadway proper. "One of such honored standing would surely not be forsaken so."

Alberdine : Owen Daxus was a man of slight mystery. Every person would hide behind a veil, but his was done with a touch more care. The only thing this Empire truly required was loyalty, how you gave it and what you came from truly didn’t matter. Sometimes the bloodier and more illicit each subjugating action was, the stronger it was seen in the Tyrant’s eye. It was part of her duty to the Emperor to suss out the dangerous ones and outliers. Her invisible stretch was to unearth what wished to be hidden. Taking within knowledge of each player, Alberdine made the quiet nod and phantom smile as Owen’s deportment drew on his natural air. There was one comment that did strike the corpse reviver as they started on the venture. The notion that the Woodland of the Wargs would be a lonely place to take one’s last breath. She had the obscure objective that there were few places that had not seen death before it and death after it. The patter of their pace drew out the silence while the necromancer collected her thoughts upon that as well as Owen’s seemingly disapproval of no previous recovery methods. Another part of war and death that few ever realized. Not every valorous act got the accolades one read of in epic verse. “I am glad your men will be there to aid us, all hands on deck.” A slight pause was placed to break up her thoughts, a new tonality taken as she spoke next. Words while sharp, her tone was gentle. “The Empire does not take the girls efforts and ultimate sacrifice with no tribute. She was given the highest regards with others like her. Life lost no matter how large or small is always seen with reverence. But reports that were drawn made it out to be that there was no body to recover. But given my student’s exhibit last time I saw you, I believe that might have been mistaken. Suzy gave you a wonderful key into possibly finding what might remain. That vision she had was striking for a reason and I felt a pull that day as well. I think she might still be more present than not.” She would casually glance to his face watching as he digested her words. “It would be helpful for me in my success to assist you if you could tell me more of her. I never had the chance to meet her. I know her fellows suffered the loss of family but there was not much to go by her personal history. She had a few stays within the hospital wing of the Empire. She seemed rather spirited from the looks of it. Broke a few nurses’ spirits. It seemed she had a distrust of the healing mages.”

Owen_Daxus : As the rain began to lessen, hints of sun peeking through the clouds and the open road about him, Owen's very posture began to relax. Too long had the stone walls and incessant plotting in Immortalis been a thing. Too long had court and courtiers tugged at him and how he had missed the days when he'd played mercenary! Oh, but they seemed so long ago! In truth, it was more than a dozen years now since he'd acted in such a manner, but every time he was able to sneak away from his duties and partake of adventure, he was pushed back into times that were, if not necessarily happier, then certainly more free. That was the yoke about his neck, however. The balance between freedom and adventure and the necessity to build a power-base from which he could destroy his brother. Oh, he'd not forgotten the man, but so many things occupied his attention that, at times, revenge seemed so far away. "Most hands on deck," Owen corrected the Seneschal with a half-grin shot her way. "I need someone to see to my affairs while I'm away." He quieted, however, nodding in acquiescence as he accepted the rebuke aimed his way. On any battlefield, it was truly hard to discern whose parts were whose, and most contented themselves with mass graves and funerals with accolades back at home. After all, the body itself did not matter as much as the life lived or the deeds done. For Owen, however, the body, at this time, was a tad more important than what Malhin had accomplished. "An odd take on death you have, Lady Seneschal," Owen said as they rode along, eating up the miles. "One could easily argue that the lesser the standing of the person dying, the less reverence need be given as the less they have accomplished. Of course, one could argue that a humble tailor has served more than a foppish noble in the court, but that noble may well be remembered long after the tailor's remains have turned to dust. I suppose it comes down to perspective. For myself, however, I find death only concerning when it impacts events in my life. The death of a shepherd in Veryan, or even the birth of a dozen children in Sovereign City, does little to change my own life and path." He turned his thoughts towards Malhin and, unbidden, a small smile rose to his lips. "I didn't know Malhin as well as others," he admitted. "Certainly, I was no Bjarni, and tribe and clan are closer than anything to them. She often came to the Purple Pig and just as often would she cause problems and act the whirlwind. It was not out of malice, you know, but simply how she was. Chaos in the form of a woman, come to upset my pillars of an orderly life. She was a fighter, Lady Seneschal, and one of renown, even though I never had the opportunity to test her mettle. Yet, even so, there were rare moments when we spoke that I was able to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath and hidden. There was far more to her than met the eye." Owen fell silent for a time, the clip-clop of the horses and the low voices of his men in the distance filling the void. "I am a stubborn man on certain things, my Lady," he said at last. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but when I set my mind to a task, I will see it through, no matter the cost." Indeed, what -would- be the cost to Malhin? Was she a disembodied spirit floating around? Was she in her afterlife halls, drinking with Bjarni gods and heroes of ages past? Was she perhaps at peace, or at least the sort of peace that would make her spirit happy? Owen had considered much of this and then discarded it, for Owen was, in many ways, a selfish man. Even in his supposed generosity, he always had an angle to play.

Alberdine : Death was hers and she was his. Complicated at best, she spent more time contemplating others than her own. That was until recent times brought her the ghostly prognostication. For the first time in centuries, she was faced with the concept of what was to happen now after she perished.  She despised that she worried of it, she would curse whatever human touch was there that had her think of the select few that she cultivated bonds with. She questioned that her fruitless ventures and countless sacrifices to get where she was, they would soon come home to roost. A chilling concept for the pyschopomp as her hands were far from clean. The perspective that all were connected was one that many did not believe, and in her tenure, it was a reality that she to slowly came to realize. Like birth and death, it was an equalize and set the scales to decorate that unseen pulse that allied and altered events in subtle ways. “You do have a colorful crew and I am sure each man has their own flair. But that is something to think about as well is it not? It could be argued that the birth of a shepherd means nothing, thus the death of one means nothing. The loss of a noble would be felt stronger than the loss of a servant. I do believe that this is a falsity that hinders the importance of delicacy.” The twist of her words became softer. There was a saccharine edge as she continued.  “From the little information that I do have on the woman, Malhin was born within the Bjarni village and was fated to be nothing. The indigenous tribes in those territories, while at times filter into the militant divisions of the Empire, their nobility is on the same length as a servant. Malhin, from what I could gather, was almost killed by her own people before joining the Warriors of the Axe. One could argue the death of a simple mountain tribe member, could have cost the life of many others on the missions she successfully achieved. It would have altered our afternoon plans as well.” It was not a scolding that she as trying to give Owen, but some implanting of the other side. Another phantom smile given at his shared experiences of the Bjarni. “Your dedication to the woman is noble. She does sound like she caused quite the stir in your life. One that you miss greatly.” As the miles were paved under their creature’s hooves, soon the city scape was behind them and lush green was starting to take control of the surroundings. “Your stubbornness as you call it, is resolve and it can bring a great deal of victory. I do think we are getting close. Did you by chance have her dagger on your still?” Alberdine was going to need a totem and she was prying to see if Owen would be enough in form, and while she did think it would carry enough, the dagger would only give them an upper hand.

Owen_Daxus : Oh, to be true, Alberdine was on to something there. Matters of delicacy, however, were not something Owen was often concerned with, fortunately. As Treasurer, he measured and balanced coin and not the lives from whence the coin came or even those who minted it. As the owner of businesses across the land, he cared only for the lives of people in the sense that their continued longevity meant continued patronage. Much could be reduced to tallies and numbers across any board. It was when emotions came into account that individual lives mattered most, and Owen had little in terms of true emotional ties for the majority of people he came across. Even his band, greatly reduced in numbers over the years from what it once had been, occupied but a small fraction of his 'caring' if one could call it that. Owen hadn't survived for as long as he had by being sentimental to any large extent. Goal-oriented was the way to go, for him at least. Nonetheless, he gave a rueful chuckle as Alberdine's second set of words made him admit that, even in his own modus operandi, there were errors. "Malhin might well prove the exception to the rule. Unless, of course, we do not judge Bjarni royalty by Immortalis standards, but by their own. By her strength and wit, Malhin rose to become a war leader of Deathstalker. That position alone surely puts her above Bjarni royalty in many ways. But, as you say, were her actions not of note, we would not be here this day and on this journey and likely many others would be counted among the dead. However, the difference between that supposed noble and that supposed shepherd or servant passing on and Malhin is that I care enough to change something in the case of the latter and not of either of the former." Oh, it might well be a callous statement to be made, but in Owen's eyes, it came down to simple fact. At Alberdine's request, Owen dropped his hand to his belt where the blade hung. Pulling it from its sheath, he held it by the tip and, moving his steed closer to Alberdine's, offered it to her hilt-first. "I would have been a fool not to bring it with me," he replied, "Especially after I saw the use it was in the hands of your ward. No doubt you have some similar sort of magic to allow us to seek her remains." It was a statement and not a question; Alberdine's power was known in its own right; the death-workers of the Empire were often held in high regard, if considered warily and with no small amount of fear. "If her bones are scattered, we will have to gather of all them. If we are lucky, however, her remains will be where she fell."

Alberdine :  That was one thing they both would be able to agree on. Being sentimental and having feelings only broke the process of advancing. Alberdine was wired in a way where any real deep emotions were not felt. Faked with perfection and understood, but never truly all there. They were always out of reach and it was something that caused to a lot of misunderstanding, most of which she felt no reason to clear up. Owen’s words were not lost upon her and there was a nod of agreement that Malhin’s position in the empire was one of esteem. “Yes a possible exception to the rule. As you are well aware of, this Empire has seen many examples like her’s however.” The Empire was built like most, upon the warriors that sacrificed life and limb. It was a construct that never changed no matter how much time advanced a society. Sects like the Bjarni were built for the bloodshed and destruction. Tales of glorification and promising the afterlife fitting the combatants, Malhin would be the exception to the rule in that case and she would not be sitting by ancients past sharing mead with other fallen comrades. Alberdine’s ability to read objects was nothing like her student’s. Her was not feeding of the object itself, but the connection to the spirit itself. If strong enough, she could bond with the diminutive feelers that could tell if a person’s spirit was restless or not. She did not know if  it was necessary to tell Owen that Malhin’s deathly imprint was not of ataraxia but anger and confusion. The dancer of death could only assume that she was trapped and the warrior’s soul was wandering within the woods of her remains. It was a long shot, and the risk was being made by all present that day. “We will use all means necessary to find what we came here to find.” It was with that simple statement that they were now being pulled deeper into the Woodlands of the Warg.  Senses would be heightened for the moment and Alberdine placed a pause in the exchange.  Going off the coordinates that were mapped out, she was picking upon mental notes that directed her, leading the team into one direction and then the other. She herself was not present for the campaign and felt a little more blind than not. It was not just the mapped markings that had her moving forward, but the immediate rush of whispers that hit her ears. Lemures were collecting puzzle pieces for her and she quickly tried to decipher the undead chatter. “I think we are getting close to where the main altercation took place.” It was a bloody scene , but when they would arrive, there was nothing but  dense forest.

Owen_Daxus :  "Yes, yes, Lady Seneschal, all the vaunted heroes of Deathstalker," Owen said, though not unkindly. "Would that every one who has fallen in the name of empire have such concerned folk as we to try and rectify their mortal shells. At minimum, I can see that the crypts and barrows would far outstrip the cities in terms of grandeur. At the most? No doubt all would perish from the lack of food as no heroes or warriors would ever perish, for they would be raised by the priests." As they delved into the woodlands, the team drew closer together, less out of a need for companionship than to be prepared for a potential ambush. Morgan Chaine muttered some few spells, offering wards of detection against the physical and non-physical, that they might have some warning in the event of attack. Even Owen, normally full of chatter, had drawn inwards, preparing for what was to come. His left hand was within a belt pouch, tightly gripping the intricately wrought diamond fashion in the shape of a skull; Thrax's phylactery and the only true hold that Owen had over the lich that would have been more than happy to destroy Owen had not the one-time mercenary wrought his own trickery against the powerful being. Even so, it was by this item that Owen ensured he would be able to complete the plan that had formulated when he'd heard of Malhin's remains. "The forest feels too still here," Owen said quietly in reply to Alberdine. "It will take us some time to do what needs be done, Lady Seneschal. Perhaps once her bones are recovered, it would be better for you to return to the safety of the outskirts while we... perform the requisite ceremonies to honor her for transport."

Alberdine: The words from the treasure were falling to a light hum, though she did not wish to dismiss it fully. All points were valid and what he spoke to was a darker truth. But the woman was here now with keen focus. Pulling upon each dancing vibration, plucked for scrutiny she felt  the echoes. Alberdine pulled back upon the reins of her creature and it was a quick dismount that was done. It was still but that calmness was just what she needed. She would begin to make small paces forward from the group, now glances made backwards. The hymn she was following kept her pace steady and silent. She smelled the blood and the char of flesh, yet it was not from that specific campaign. There was a stronger presence that was taking her attentions. Leaning down she grabbed whatever loose soil that she could and like a new plant leeching the nutrients, she did her bet to silence some of the noisier occupants. This place had a cacophony that all felt their voices were the ones that needed to be heard first by the puppeteer. Turning back now, ashen hues looked to Owen, taking a few steps back to the group,  “I need your dagger and I need you to give me your hand and trust.” Tone cold and commanding, it was time to now stretch Owen’s willingness to finding his fallen friend. There needed to be a resolve in what she was about to ask of him. “I need your blood.” There she stood to wait for his response hoping that he would oblige. It was going to make this easier and it was only going to be the beginning. Something felt very obstinate within the soil and the dancer of death was concerned that whatever it was, was here to fight.

Owen_Daxus : It appeared that Owen would not, in fact, be so easily seen off of the Seneschal. However, as Alberdine dismounted, especially in such a swift manner, Owen softly called a halt. The rumble of the wagon, muted as it was by the forest path, came to a halt, the horses stamping and snorting softly. Drawing inwards, Deimos dismounted as fluidly as Alberdine had. With nary a backward glance, the ranger disappeared into the forest, vanishing from sight in seconds. Morgan, looking more uneasy by the moment, drew his mount nearer to Cyric, who simply sneered at the mage's back and shook his head. Ignoring the byplay and actions of his men; they were efficient and practiced despite their dislikes, after all, dropped from his own steed to move beside Alberdine. Despite the Seneschal's words and tone, Owen put a grin upon his lips and extended to her his blade and open right palm. "Blood is cheap these days," he quipped, and indeed, was it not true? It wasn't as if his own blood as a Daxus bore anything special. Oh, he could claim royal blood, yes, but Immortalis was filled to the brim of those who had come here after being deposed or fleeing their own lands. Royal blood was a penny a pint in this place. Owen, at least, had risen above that poor excuse and made something of himself. "What is it that you have found, Lady Seneschal? I came here to see this done and I will not leave with it incomplete."