Let's Discuss Your Findings (Mila)

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

'Dear Clover' The letter started. 'First of all, allow me to state what a fan I am of your research. I was particularly impressed by your sections on behavior and roaming patterns. Too often have I whet the appetite of my knowledge with a new contemporary piece only to find instructions on how to combat the undead. Lycia has enough of such texts, wouldn't you agree? And such knowledge hardly requires publication or documentation. Visit Worde or Thria where the townspeople know the basics of defense against the undead. Target the brain, remove the limbs. Such information is rudimentary at this point, wouldn't you agree? None of this is to insinuate that your own notes on combating the undead were so mundane. I found them to have a certain... scientific detachment to them. That is not to say that they were detached from science, but rather that they were detached in a scientific manner. Does that make any sense?' A thin trail of ink stains the rest of the line. The sentences continue on the next line. 'It was as if I was reading instructions on cooking or gardening, or some other rudimentary task. I suppose what I am attempting to convey is that your style of writing conveys your experience in dealing with the undead and has impressed someone who considers himself a peer.' The first paragraph ends there. The second started on the back of the parchment.

'Having given my praise, I would like to move on to business, onto the reason I am writing. I would like to meet with you and, if possible, swap notes. Where your research seems to be primarily focused on behavior and combat, mine is concerned with physiology and perpetual undeath. As a man with experience in the medical field, I find the continued existence of these abominations to be quite baffling. But, I shall digress if I say any more. I ask the Saint that this letter finds you quickly and well. If you are interested, meet with me on the 20th of January at the 'Blonde Minstrel' pub in Ryerde. The pub is located in Ryerde's main trading town, the one closest to the largest river in Lycia. I am sure you are capable of finding it. If you would like to meet, return a letter to Mr. Bow, the courier who delivered this message, and he shall bring it to me.'

Best,

Mr. Turambar.

P.S. If you prefer nicknames, you may also call me 'Mr. Bar'.

[Mila]

Mila poured over the letter she received. It wasn't often she received letters from scholars. Most letters she received were from her family back in Eturia. Letters full of both good news and bad. Letters chocked with different sets of handwriting between her family members as if they had been fighting over the quill mid-sentence. But, this, wasn't from her family. As a matter of fact, it was from someone she had never met. Praising her for her work. Shoot. And here I thought no one was reading my work except me. Crap.. how to respond to this. She thought to herself as she tapped the end of the quill to her cheek. Should I sound happy? Professional? Creeped out?

Dear Mr. Trumbar,

I hope this letter finds you well. First, allow me to say thank you. Thank you for reading my work and taking an interest in what was written. It isn't often that I receive praise through letters so, I am a bit at a loss of what to say. Presently, I am in the middle of traveling and my time to write is limited. I do apologize if my wording seems a tad bit off. I do not have the time nor the resources to write until it sounds sophisticated. I do agree that my works of combating the undead do seem a bit repetitive mundane bland. However, the purpose of the pamphlets have not been for scientific use. They were specifically written and published for the public. As not everyone in the world is gifted with the ability to use a sword or magic. A small bit of education like the pamphlets could be the difference between life and death to the common man. The undead are not the only monsters I have extensive research on. However, they do seem to be the most numerous to appear and plague the living. Which is understandable as there are so many dead people out there in the world. But, I digress. I accept your invitation to meet. The sage waited for the ink to dry before flipping the page and writing on the back.

"I will do what I can to arrive in Ryd Ryerde, by the 20th. I look forward to meeting you."

"Sincerely, Clover."

As she read over the letter she sighed. The letter wasn't exactly her best sort of work. But, it was all she had. She quietly folded the letter and sealed it with a bit of wax. She tracked down the man known as Mr. Bow. She thanked him for the delivery and gave him some coin. With the delivery taken care of she just needed to figure out how to get to Ryerde.

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

”What's she like?” Rowan inquired as his companion handed him Clover's response letter.

”Nice enough I s'pose.” Beleg, also known as Mr. Bow, grunted. ”Seemed a little spooked when she gave me the letter. Not sure if that was because she was scared of me or because she got excited hearin' from a fan.”

”A fan.” The Seer chuckled dryly, tearing the wax insignia on the letter. ”I suppose I admitted to that in the letter. What did she look like?”

”Green hair. Wore it in a ponytail. Eyes were also green. Big too, like a baby's. She was dressed like a nun, but I could tell she had a nice figure.”

”Oh?” Rowan inquired, scanning the contents of Clover's letter.

”She wore a dark green cloak. Thing covered her whole body. Guess she's shy, 'r somethin', I donno. But I got a glimpse at her hands. Slender little things. Like a pianist's.”

”Anything else worth noting?”

”Uhhh...” The ex-bandit started. ”Did I mention she was good lookin'?”

”You implied it, more or less, yes.”

”Yeah... Kinda surprised to be honest. Brainy women don't tend to be so pretty in my experience. I got a theory actually that the cuter a lass is, the less space she has in her head. The pretty genes make the skull smaller.”

”I'd say the existence of this Clover disproves your hypothesis, Beleg.” Rowan set the letter down, having finished reading.

”'S why I said it was a theory, Ro.”

”She's interested in meeting.” Rowan was excited. That is to the extent that the Seer knew excitement. Which is to say he was in a state slightly more spirited than apathetic. Meeting with Clover would mean learning something new. And Rowan was the kind of man who hungered for knowledge the way most men hungered for sex. It was an appetite he could never quite fully satisfy. ”I suppose we have some travel plans to make.”

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A few weeks later...

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It was drizzling outside. The light pitter-patter of rain could be heard, as a pair of cloaked figures stood outside a local inn. The inn was a handful of buildings away from the Blonde Minstrel pub. “-Not saying I expect there to be trouble, Ro. Clover seemed on the level. Just tellin' you I'll be in position in case she tries to pull anything funny.” The bulkier of the two figures piped up.

”Your concern is unwarranted, Beleg.” The other cloaked figure answered. ”Clover is a researcher, not a warrior. I doubt she could harm me, even if she wanted to.”

“'S funny.” Beleg said with a snort. “You're a researcher yourself, but you could kill a man, or make him think he's seeing ghosts, with just a few of Umarth's pages.”

”...This is true.” Rowan answered, a bit at a loss as to his companion's insight. ”Even so, I doubt Clover wants to do anything other than talk. So don't start shooting up the joint if she does something you don't like. We want to avoid attention, remember? I'd prefer to have a lengthy, civil conversation with this researcher.” With that the Seer pivoted on his foot and started walking towards the tavern.

“C'mon Ro, you know me better than that. I wouldn't just start firing willy-nilly! I've got principles!” Beleg spread his arms out in a sort of 'are you kidding' gesture. “I'll be watching!” Was the last thing he said as the Seer walked away. What a comforting sentiment.

Rowan was outside the establishment now. With a push from his pale palm, the door to the pub gave way and allowed him entry. The Seer stepped inside, tugging at the sides of his hood and removing the cloth from his head to reveal a mat of ivory, white hair. With both eyes, one blue, one green, he scanned the pub, looking for a conservatively dressed, green-haired woman.

[Mila]

(Ooc- time for a wardrobe update)
--

I can't believe I managed to get here in time. The sage mused to herself. She was sitting down at the back end of the pub quietly sipping her tea. In front of her was a small plate of biscuits with a tiny bit of cherry jam in the middle of them. The journey had been long but pretty fruitful. She and her comrades helped deal with a problem regarding the un-dead. And they were compensated as a reward. She was finally able to upgrade some key components to her gear. A spiffy new cloak, lined with some fur. And a new leather vest. Her shirt and pants still stayed the same. Her boots got some nice new gaiters attached to them. Helped to keep all manner of wooden furniture from hitting her shins. The vest wasn't as thick as her previous one which allowed for some of her figure to shine through. As much as she disliked the lecherous looks she was given she was kinda happy to be in it. She felt like she could breathe and move a bit better. The trade off was that the leather vest had less of a defense then her previous stiffer guard. Her hair was done up in it's usual pony tail.

The cloak was draped over the back of her chair. She had her feet kicked up on an empty chair under the table. She had a book in front of her. One that detailed the importance of herbs and plants. Mila herself wasn't much of an apothecary. So she decided to change that and start learning of medicinal herbs. As not all things could be healed with the staff. Her bag hung carefully onto the chair under the cloak. Admittedly, the book was more of a distraction then a learning tool. Here she was at an inn, waiting for some stranger, who admired her work. She had read both horror and romance stories with both of these situations. Some turned out well others not so well. She shook her head slightly. Come on Mila. The man in the letter sounded like a professional. A doctor. Not some suitor. She took a moment to breathe and relax.

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

He got some odd looks, as per usual. Rowan was accustomed to strangers being taken aback by his appearance. In his youth the people of his hometown described him as having: 'the pale complexion of a corpse!', 'the drained, haunting hair of a specter!', and 'the multi-colored eyes of a demon!'. The last accusation was his favorite if only because he found it so amusing. Who, exactly, had told the people of Inswood that multi-colored eyes were a physical trait of demons? Rowan had heard of red skin, horns on the head, hoofed feet, the regular hallmarks, but irises of differing colors? It didn't strike him as a concept particularly 'demonic' in nature. Just unnatural.

The Seer strode past the varies patrons and tables. The pub wasn't particularly packed. Some townspeople here and there shared drinks with one another, others shared meals, and others still sat amongst their lonesome, busying themselves by reading or drinking away their sorrows. One of the reading loners in particular caught Rowan's eye. A woman, fair of face and large of eyes, with her green hair done up in a ponytail, sat in an area closer to the rear of the pub. She had a book propped up on the table, and a meager meal before her. Something to keep herself busy, while she soothed a peckish appetite.

She matched Beleg's description, at least in the facial region, but her attire was unlike what the bowman had described. She wore a fur-trimmed robe, almost regal in appearance, and a shirt and boots which conformed quite nicely to her body. It by no means matched the description of 'nunish'. Why, if the attire clung to her body any more tightly, Rowan might go so far as to call it sultry! Perhaps Beleg had described her appearance as 'nunish' simply because she wasn't showing an abundance of cleavage or thigh. The bowman had always been one for the whole chicken, and not the feather.

(Cue: Heterochromia Iridium)

”I can't say nunish is an appropriate term at all.” Rowan spoke, approaching the woman he assumed to be Clover. ”Your attire looks quite comfortable. It's not baggy, not overtly obscuring the contours of your figure.” The Seer looked up, having been staring at the researcher's midsection. Meeting the green-eyed woman's gaze, Rowan blinked several times. ”...I apologize. Thoughts sometimes trickle out, even when I do not mean for them to. There are those who, rightfully so, accuse me of having no filter.” The researcher reached forward, offering his palm for a handshake. ”Mr. Turambar, or Mr. Bar if you prefer the shorthand. A pleasure to meet you, Clover...” He blinked several more times. ”You are the researcher known as Clover, yes?”

[Mila]

OOC- I approve of the theme so much.
--

So far I don't see anyone that looks like they could be a doctor. Mila's descriptions of doctors always defaulted to one sort of archetype. A man with glasses, a big hat, curly hair, and a long graying poofy beard. This was mostly due to the fact that her childhood doctor was a man with that description. He was always called upon when something was beyond their expertise of their in-house healer. She remembered Duma and her coming to him at all hours of the night not just for themselves but for their parents. Back when they were on their death beds and their breathing became very still. Or when they would shake constantly due to fever. She remembered him being so kind to them in their final moments.

Part of her recalled a day where they had to see him, because she and Duma were covered in itchy red bumps. And that the ordered them to be quarantined in their room for two weeks. Two long. Greuling. Boring weeks. In the nice parts of spring too. She was fond of that memory now, though her childhood self, loathed every moment of it. But, when no man who fit her mental description came forward, she mentally slapped herself. Of course no doctor would look exactly like her childhood doctor, that appearance was reserved for one man. Who was probably very dead by now.

But, eventually, someone did show up. A tall man with a pale complexion and ghostly white hair. He had two different colored eyes. And was muttering something to himself. She caught him staring and gave a bit of a frown. She was almost about to dismiss this man as a leach until he spoke properly. He introduced himself as Mr.Turambar. The man from the fan letter. Huh, so this is the second man we've met with the two colored eye thing. Neat. Of course, she knew the proper scientific name for "two color eye thing" but her mind was not in the mood to correct itself. She was thrown a bit aback at him mentioning her as Clover. Right! I forgot! I used the fake name. She also realized she had not stood up, nor introduced herself, or shook the man's hand. STOP BEING A BUMPKIN! She promptly corrected all three things.

"Ah yes, I am Clover. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr.Turambar." She got up and shook his hand. She smiled softly.

"Please have a seat." She pulled the chair next to her out so he may sit.

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

Rowan smiled back as Clover accepted his handshake in greeting. Her hand was soft and her smile welcoming. The Seer was pleasantly surprised by the warmth of her reception, especially after his lapse in etiquette. Either the green-eyed, green-haired researcher had not heard his comments about her attire, or didn't mind them. Whatever the case, he was glad that said comments would not affect their upcoming discourse.

”Wonderful. I would have been terribly embarrassed to have happened upon the wrong green-eyed, green-haired researcher.” He wouldn't have, but Rowan liked making such japes. He found they lightened the atmosphere and made those he spoke with feel more at ease. ”Ah. This here? Thank you, thank you.” He continued, glancing at the book his contemporary had been reading, as Clover offered him a seat.

Now seated comfortably in a pseudo-wood chair, Rowan was better able to make out the details of Clover's book. As far as he could tell, it was a piece on medicinal herbs and plants. How amusing. The woman known as 'Clover' was also an herbalist! No doubt her publishing name was a personal in-joke! ”Ah!” Rowan began. ”Are you a medicinal practitioner as well?” He reached forward, slipping his fingers between a page of the book. ”The human body has always been an area of avid fascination to me.” He spoke, turning the page over. ”I suppose that's why the undead, and their shambling kin, are of such interest to me. According to my understanding of the human body, let alone the medical world's understanding, there is no reasonable explanation for their existence.” Rowan smiled as he spoke, withdrawing his fingers and placing his palm, faced-down, on his side of the table.

[Mila]

Mila waited for the man to sit down before returning to her chair. The man remarked about how he would be embarrassed if he got the wrong green haired green eyed researcher.

"Yes, you'd be surprised how often that happens." She joked. It didn't actually happen. As far as she knew she was the only green haired green eyed researcher in the world. Few women ever picked up the craft and even fewer took an interest in monsters. She moved the plate of biscuits over towards him.

"Help yourself, my good man." They were decent biscuits.

"Well, I wouldn't call myself a medical practitioner. I learned a ton about the human body and medical arts in my school years. I haven't been in school for about five years now. But, monsters kept hurting my companions so I took up the way of the staff. I could use some tutelage in that department." She quietly placed a book mark in the herb book and closed it.

"Yes, I agree. There shouldn't be any medical.. biological reasons for why a rotting body of flesh should be up and moving. Why they can use weapons with such skill? Or have the ability to coordinate when the brain is clinically dead. The only logical explanation I have been able to find is that it's tied to magic. Specifically, Nether magic." She slowly rummaged through her bag for one of her journals. She placed one of them down on the table. The cover had a hand-drawn realistic image of a doog. She pulled another book and stacked it on top of the other one. This one had the image of a gargoyle. And then she pulled out a third one.

"Aha, there you are ya little bugger." And she put it down in front of her. This one had the image of a skeleton with a spear.

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

Rowan flashed the green woman a hearty smile. What an accommodating hostess she was turning out to be. ”Why thank you.” He reached forward, grabbing a biscuit with one hand, before dabbing it at the cherry sauce in the middle of the plate. He bit into the still warm biscuit, savoring the cherry flavor. As far as fruits went, Rowan himself preferred lemons. They had just the right mixture of sour to sweetness, where most fruits were too sweet, too sour, or otherwise just plain offensive to the researcher's mouth. Cherries, as far as he was concerned, were a little too sweet and, because of that, were lower than lemons on the Seer's tier of fruits. That said, he enjoyed consuming them all the same.

”Hmm.” He chuckled lightly as Clover spoke. ”That seems to be the way of it.” He said, referring to her taking up the staff.

Rowan placed his eyes on the pictures as the researcher presented them. Reaching forward, he traced a finger along the contours of the gargoyle drawing. ”The Nether you say?” He glanced up at Clover, flashing a wolfish grin. ”Certainly seems to be the popular theory.” The Seer tapped twice on the paper, being careful to avoid smudging the creature's outline. ”I think these one's are my favorite, although I've only had so many run-ins with the horned fliers myself. Gray, tough skin, thick as leather, thicker even. Animal in form, but capable of operating a spear. The best of both worlds, you might say. The intelligence of man, the hide of an animal.” The Seer stuffed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and glanced back down, relishing the sight of the gargoyle. ”Makes you wonder what hellish canal could have birthed such a creature.”

Wiping the crumbs of the biscuit off on his drab attire, the Seer placed his fingers just above the drawing of the skeleton, and then moved them over the image of the dog. ”Did you draw these?”

[Mila]

"Oh, you like the goyles? I'm a partial to the baels myself. Here, feel free to take a gander at the notes. And yep, I drew all the covers myself." And she did. And she used up so much paper in making the drawings look good and accurate based on her memory. Dozens of failed drawings became useful tinder for the campfires along the way.

"It's just a preliminary theory though. A good chunk of the monsters come out via the traditional method. Rather than just appearing out of thin air like magic does." She spoke as she sat back down. She demonstrated her point by conjuring up a quick ball of flame on the palm of her hand. Then she blew it out like a candle. She glanced at her books. Her head slowly thinking of the right words to say. This was her research. Her work. Her adventures. She shouldn't shame her research with improper diction.

"And even then I think.. there is something more to it. The new island.. it has monsters too. But, they are different than the ones seen here. The whole island.. is different than Elibe. So it stands to reason that it's native species would be different too. I think that those monsters are not born of nether but born of anima." She shook her head.

"But, Vinland is something special in of itself. So it might be a moot point." She shrugged. Her notes detailed the regional variants between Vinland monsters and Elbian monsters. All of it colored in and written in great detail.

"And magic doesn't quite account for their behavior. I've seen doog packs with the same mentality as regular wolf packs. Albiet they are extremely savage from the standard wolf pack as they willingly go out of their way to attack people. But, they retain the same basic instincts. They follow an alpha. They create a territory for themselves. Mark that territory. Hunt as a group. They even create dens to breed, and rear their young." She paused for a moment.

"Male Bales roam to find mates. Female baels like to make nests in remote areas to lay their eggs. Heck, there's a forest out there that's full of them. Even, gargoyles with their intelligence, display nesting behaviors atop mountain peaks." She took a sip of her tea.

"Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that those monsters have something in them. Something instinctive that makes me think that at one point somewhere in the distant past they were an essential part of nature. Either as predator, prey, or possibly both." She turned to look at the man with the snow white hair.

"Undead are a special case. As.. they are simply the reanimated corpses of the dead. I have yet to see one try to raise a family so they might not have exact instincts as the others. But, they have the ability to use tools and weapons. They can also think. I've.. seen some with.. fragments of their former lives." She paused at the thought. It wasn't a happy memory.

"The problem is figuring out the how, why, and how to stop it." She realized she had said quite alot in a short amount of time. Yep, typical Mila. Once she got started talking about something she liked there was no stopping her.

"Ah, sorry. I got carried away."

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

The Seer blinked several times as Clover briefly summoned a ball of fire. He had not known she could do that. Guess he owed Beleg an apology. The bowman had been right to exercise caution around the researcher. Those flames, despite Rowan's protection from the spirits, were not something he wanted to be on the receiving end of. He thought of calling attention to her abilities, but the anima-casting researcher was not one to be interrupted while discussing her research. Rowan leaned forward, opening his contemporary's journal on bonewalkers, and readied himself to learn via osmosis.

”I have a theory on that, actually.” Rowan's nose was still buried deep in Clover's research as he spoke. Indeed, the researcher had a few key thoughts on the behavioral patterns of doogs, gargoyles, and baels, but he was willing to put a pin in discussing said theory until the green-eyed sage finished her monologue.

”Or alternatively how to control it.” The Seer noted, glancing up from Clover's journal. His contemporary's solution to the monster/undead threat was certainly the glamorous one, but it wasn't Rowan's first choice. These creatures, though repulsive in appearance and behavior, continued to fascinate the researcher in each of their new iterations. They were not something he was overly interested in snuffing out.

”No, no, don't apologize.” Rowan spoke, folding his hands together, interlacing each finger between one another. ”I admit it was a lot to take in, but it's all quite enlightening. You've even informed me of some things I was unaware of... like undead exhibiting characteristics of their old lives.” He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. ”I feel as if I should be taking my own notes. You don't have a quill I might borrow, do you? Perhaps some spare parchments in those journals? If not, it's alright. I have a fairly hefty memory. Once we retire for the evening, I imagine I can retain all of this long enough to find some writing materials.”

”As for the baels, gargoyles, and doogs.” He began, placing his hands, palms flat, on the table. ”You heard reports of the Battle for The City of Heroes. Supposedly Hargus came back from the dead and lead the charge against the Sacaens, etcetera, etcetera, yada, yada. Do you recall that, in those reports, the changes Hargus' body underwent. He grew a terrible, black claw, sprouted wings the length of his body. His entire being became demonic in appearance. Perhaps the monsters are of a similar nature. Perhaps bael, and doogs, and gargoyles were once normal denizens of the forest, but were subjected to extended exposure to the nether. And in their new state, they retain behaviors of their primary being, while taking on demonic, physical changes. Perhaps the animals now roaming Lycia are bastardizations of nature given new form by elder magic.” Rowan reclined in his seat, tilting his head to the side. "Just a theory I've been tinkering with."

[Mila]

The man had asked for some quill and parchment. To which Mila pulled from her bag a tiny corked bottle of ink. A quill and some loose sheets of paper. She quietly placed them on the table and offered it to Mr.Bar.

"I regret not being at the Seige of the City of Heroes to witness the attack first hand. But, the reports from the survivors have been conflicting. Apparently, there was a whole lot of chaos and multiple monster attacks for people to give me some real solid details. And the written accounts I have been able to read.. well.. some of them sound like they have been exaggerated." It was sort of true. She wasn't there at the great Seige so she couldn't record what happened first hand. There was barely any evidence left of the monster attacks by the time she arrived in the city. Her time there was short too.

"I am familiar with the nether being able to corrupt the body. Shamans I have met had several issues with the mind. I had an uncle who was a practitioner of the nether arts. He became a heavy drinker as a means to cope with the mental degradation. My most recent companion is one.. and the nether is making swiss cheese of his memories. It pains me that I cannot heal him of the damage. But, I understand that is the price one must pay to operate the nether." She took a moment to breathe. She missed her uncle's drunken stories by the fire place.

"While that is just my own personal experience with the nether.. I have noticed that most of the "prices" have been internal. I have yet to physically see something become so infused with Nether magic that it changes the outside. At least.. not anything living. Weapons forged with nether magic in them look vastly different than their other non-nether counterparts." She tried to remember the image of a sword forged with nether magic from her school days. She remembered it being black as night and had a strange low buzzing noise when one approached.

"But, I digress. Tell me what have you found out with your studies? Any physical indication of how the corpses come to life?"

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

”Hmm....” Rowan hummed, tapping his quill and staring at Clover. ”It's a pity you see it that way. While I'm certain the reports had some measure of embellishment, I am unwilling to dismiss them entirely. If the nether can destroy the mind and animate the dead, I can't in good faith rule out that it can also morph the body.” He lifted his right hand, palm facing upwards and pointer finger outstretched towards Clover. ”Now if we could somehow get our hands on the Bandit King's body, that might give us something to work with.” The Seer mused, knowing the likelihood of recovering Hargus' body was all but impossible.

”Oh?” The researcher inquired as Clover mentioned the effects the nether had on people close to her. ”You'll have to tell me more about that at some point. Elder magic is another area of interest to me. Not practicing it, that is” He lied. ”But understanding how and why it's prices differ from person to person.” Rowan cracked a grin. ”Your uncle and your friend sound like worthwhile case studies.”

And then the hard part rolled around. Due to the nature of his employment, there was only so much Rowan could talk about. Most of his findings were classified. He didn't want to give Clover too much and risk termination of his employment and, potentially, life. However, he didn't want to give Clover too little and make her suspicious of him.

”Well, I can tell you that I once conducted an experiment to see how long a revenant could go without sustenance. Turns out that the undead don't just eat for recreation. They do, in fact, maintain their rotting bodies through consuming raw meat. If you deprive them of this function, the muscle and skin withers away until they become skeletal walkers.” Rowan chuckled, cocking his head. ”The more you know.”

[Mila]

"Hmm.. so the urge to feed.. that might be why the reverants and wights like to attack villages. Lots of humans and cattle to take and feast on. It also explains why they are so ravenous.. and why they seem to be attracted to areas of rotten bodies.. like cemeteries." But it doesn't explain the sudden jump in intelligence once a higher leveled monster appears. She was talking to herself for a bit. Mila was absorbing the knowledge that Rowan had given. This need to feed explained why some undead took survivors and spirited them away into their dens. To be used as food for later. It was a grim thought but it made a lot of sense.

"It lines up with some of their behavior patterns. I'm honestly surprised you managed to capture one. Some undead like to take humans away.. and I guess that means they take them to eat them.. or turn them into one of them." She felt a chill crawl up her spine at the thought. She had seen their nests. Bodies of all humans man, woman, and child, all scattered about in gruesome pieces. She felt her hands go up her shoulders and rubbed her arms.

"Such a horrible way to die." She sighed softly. A part of her could see her friends bodies lying among the dead. Half eaten and decaying. Another shiver. No. She would do everything in her power to prevent that from happening. Hmm.. so does that mean skeletal warriors are merely starving variants of reverents? Hmm.. that doesn't exactly fit with the research. Something else is at play here. Mila snapped back to reality. The man wanted to know more about the two shaman's in her life.

"Well.. my uncle has been dead for quite some time now. I imagine he'd be a bit hard to interview. And my other companion.. well.. he.. takes a bit to warm up to people. But, that's besides the point." She made a mental note of how Rowan kinda did look a little like Drei. Mostly in the pale skin and bright hair department. There was still something that didn't sit right with Mila about Rowan. Like why wasn't he giving her more details about monsters. Or writing stuff down.

"So, how did you get sucked into the monster research business?"

[Rowan 'Turambar' Gaunt]

”It is also worth noting-” Rowan chimed in. ”-that it takes a revenant longer than the average human to reach emaciation. While it takes three weeks of starvation for the human body to become cadaverous in appearance, revenants may take up to five weeks, almost twice as long. I imagine their bodies simply require less nourishment to function.”

”Oh, capturing one by itself isn't so hard.” A hint of dismissal snuck into the researcher's voice. ”Lure one away from its pack, sweep the legs, gag the maw, bind the limbs. You simply need to have the right tools, and personnel, with you. I am fortunate to have an associate like Mr. Bow who is, not only large in stature, but knows his way around a fight.” He breathed out a long exhale. He wasn't used to talking so much, least with anyone other than Beleg.

”That said, I got lucky. Prior to undeath, the subject had been suffering from an infection for some time and simply didn't receive proper treatment. After his reanimation, I made the most of the nether's effects on him.” A lie. Well, a half life. Rowan himself wasn't certain whether he was telling the truth or not. The subject in question had been captured by Lausian soldiers and brought before Rowan. Or it had been a Lausian soldier who hadn't received medical attention and was posthumously brought before him. He couldn't remember which.

”Hmmm?” Rowan perked up inquisitively. ”Oh. Same as my medical practices, I suppose. I knew how to fix the human body and knew people who's bodies needed fixing. I enjoyed researching the undead and knew people who wanted researchers. Well...” His voice trailed off. The man sat, staring past Clover and smiling contentedly. He was caught in a pleasant memory. ”Friends of mine knew people who needed researchers. Hmm, hmm.” He brought a hand to his mouth, chuckling lightly. ”Never underestimate the connections you make in this world, Miss Clover. They will find you work and fulfillment in the strangest of ways at the most unexpected of times.” Rowan shook his head, trying to redirect the course of the conversation. ”Ah, but I seem to become self-indulgent in your company. How about yourself, Miss Clover? Did you become a researcher under similar means?”