Nylah

A yawn escaped Nylah, she had cut off another group. After killing a score of them they finally understood their situation and laid their arms bare. The woman at the lead happened to see reason when her armor was shattered completely, funny that.

They knelt each as quiet as a mouse. Each their eyes on her, the collective fear culminating into a noticeable musk. Nylah casually oversaw the legion's recovery crew. Groups of ghouls not fit for combat, salvaging whatever bodies littered the floor.

Her focus particularly was a group of ghouls directly fettered to her. They held a single corpse with the utmost care, a warden, a valued prize. Her master enjoyed taking them specifically and turning them into Crypt Knights. He spent an excessive amount of his personal funds to arm them in replica equipment of their distasteful occupation.

Extravagant as it was, it got the reaction. Those forsaken knights usually incited enough rage to break her muse's focus. Empathy could be so tiresome at times. Nylah preferred her Claymore—a bladewraith—being just as dutiful and keeping close to the ghouls. His namesake resting against his back.

He dragged his blade against the floor making an incomprehensible wail. He was clearly irritated to be pulled out of the battle. ["He could join the club."] Her muse ruminated, a private comment meant for Nylah's ears alone.

The battle fervor still pulsed through Nylah and her muse was not helping. Leaning on her command of empathy, Nylah wove away the sigh that threatened to encroach. Couldn't have that, she had impressions to maintain.

"What are you doing in our lands, Lion?" Nylah asked, planting her blade in the ground, she wanted to lounge but she had chased them out to an open field. The Lioness apparently believed Nylah would be at the mercy of their lighters. All it cost Nylah was a node and a few ghouls.

"Your lands?" The Lioness scoffed, "You think much of what you've pillaged." Nylah rolled her eyes, still proud even when on their knees.

["She has a point you know,"] Her Phantom chided, ["Calling the Borderlands your land is a bit presumptuous. Especially since you invited them here."] Nylah chose to pay her no mind. No one but her could see the phantom right now after all.

"Why did you surrender? You know we don't take prisoner." Nylah asked, her muse stopped trying to watch more of the battle. Her gaze a razor focus on the proud woman. If anything could outpace her muse's joy of combat it would have to be her boundless curiosity.

"Yet here I am. Alive."

Claymore hissed, scraping a groove in the ground with his blade. Nylah wasn't worried about him going crazy, she held a tight grip on his fetter. Nylah was more focused on the blade, somehow he had chipped it yet again! She would have to make certain to repair that.

Nylah's muse appeared behind her, brandishing her own blade. "That wasn't an answer, Lion." Nylah said, forcing her muse to banish while smiling.

"The battle was a forgone conclusion, my men and I would only supply you with more corpses if we continued to fight. We've been left behind, this was the gamble with the highest odds, apparently, it paid off." She smirked, aspects she was way too proud about this 'plan'.

Nylah looked past the lines, sure enough the Lion clan's forces were breaking and running away. This lioness had, unfortunately, for her pushed herself out too far. Leaving her and her men in Nylah's grasp. Ghouls rushed past Nylah and her captives, each hoping to claim the fresh flesh already on the run. None dared to go anywhere near Nylah. Their cortex handlers guiding them towards easier game.

"You got a name?" Nylah asked, had she known the ghouls would pay them no mind?

"Blossom."

"Ok Blossom. I have an offer, join us." They all looked at her with shock and confusion. Each attempting to understand if they heard her right. Even her muse ruminated confusion and anxiety at this offer.

"You're mad." Blossom said, almost insulted at the offer, Nylah merely shrugged.

"You were left behind by your own people, and offered yourself to my mercy, this is my mercy."

"And if we refuse?"

"You can leave." Nylah offered, to their surprise once again. Her muse always loved the taste of bewilderment. Especially when Nylah was the cause of it.

"Just like that?"

"Of course not, there is always a cost. But you will at least be alive, all of you." She clarified when the men's fear radiated intently to her first statement.

"Abort it!" A haggard-looking short man said before shuffling over to Nylah's side.

"Are you mad Levin?" Another man called out to Levin, apparently.

"Don't give me that! You want to serve the equilibrium as a corpse, go ahead!"

Nylah made a mental note not to trust him, a man easily turn is someone you should never turn your back to. Nylah let them continue their argument. Might as well let them get their last words out, before interrupting.

"Enough of this, I have wasted enough time on you, you look to your lioness for permission. I will give you lions this, you train your corpses well." That struck a nerve with each and every member of this woman's lott. Their emotions all funneling together in an almost illegible fog.

"I refuse!" Blossom said, "Just as all of you, just as any true child of the matron would!" She looked Nylah in the eye. Nylah waited thirty more seconds keeping her eyes on the proud Lioness. By the end two of the living corpses stood beside Nylah, the rest standing with their Lioness.

"Get going." Nylah commanded, the defeated lott making their leave.

Blossom turned to give the three of them one last scornful look, before leaving with the rest of her men.

"Not to question you or anything, your necromancership," A weak voice said at her side. "But you said something about a cost for leaving right?" Nylah looked towards the scrawny man.

"Having second thoughts traitor?" He winced at her naked honesty.

"N-no ma'am." He lied, Nylah's muse flashed a vision. Nylah throwing a ball for a hound to chase. Giggling as the poor creature rushed to find something that never left her hand.

"The cost was simple, the same cost they have been paying, further enslavement to the matron." He nodded dejectedly, regret emitting from him like a stench. It was obvious had he known that's all he would have ran off with his Lioness.

Nylah looked towards the other one, he stood with almost no reaction at all. His control over his emotions so potent they barely registered Nylah's empathic senses. Maybe this would get a reaction out of him.

Nylah fulminated her muse, having it appear behind her. Taking the mantle of the warrior the muse charged towards the retreating group like a furious wasp. Placing herself in the center of the group, she took two swings of her large marble-looking blade. She lopped off a single limb from each man unfortunate enough to be in range of her muse.

Howls of pain, and panic escaped most of the men, the Lioness turning to call Nylah a liar no doubt. Nylah paid none of this any mind, focusing on more important matters. Using her muse as a point of reference she wove the second fabric she had attuned, arc. The weave generated a charge between the two of them, gravity's hold on her weakened. Pulling her to her muse—no, the spot her muse was when she wove the weave—instead of the ground.

She flew like an arrow, appearing at the spot her muse was when she wove the weave. Once reaching the location she wove another weave. Breaking the momentum as if she had been snatched out of the air by a giant invisible hand.

Her right hand extended outwards brandishing a marble aetherblade mimicking her muse's. Nylah lopped off a limb from the others her muse missed. Ending with a single upward cut severing the torch-wielding arm of the lioness.

"With this," Nylah banished her muse and blade, "Your debt is repaid, now get out." She turned paying the lioness and her injured men no mind. Their moans of pain a fitting melody to march off on.

Levin was horrified, his aura warring with fear and relief as he held tightly to his arm. His companion only echoed a single feather-like mote, doubt. /That's all I could get out of you?/ Nylah thought, her muse ruminating the same irritation. Flashing a vision of a woman trying to wash away an unruly stain.

Nylah blinked as she saw a figure behind him—more an afterimage—for just a second. Nylah shook her head and looked at the quiet man, why hadn't she considered it sooner?

"Have you heard whispers?" That got a reaction, outwardly the man didn't make any further emotion. He slightly glanced towards her and blinked. Through the aether he played a different tune, his aura echoed awe and fear both clashing powerfully. To Nylah it appeared as a glowing halo struggling not to erupt into a large pile of maggots.

"Yes..." He said, softly, his aura taking a new shape. Echoing another emotion it produced multiple eyes, each one shut tight attempting to hide themselves from her, what was this one again...

["Shame."] Phantom said, resting her chin on Nylah's shoulder. Nylah tried to pay the busybody no mind. Did she really have to wear Nylah's face so much better? Honestly, Nylah couldn't help but feel like a runny-nosed brat still in pigtails whenever she appeared.

He looked past Nylah before realization washed across his face. He had probably noticed Phantom the way she had noticed his, hopefully, he would be of use.

"Cortex!" She howled, to a nearby cortex one guiding a group of ghouls closer into the battlefield. She did not need to be vocal to get its attention, that was more for the benefit of her new conscripts. A minor weave, a weave invisible to the naked eye was all that was required to get the floating skull's attention.

"Take these two back to the base, they are to be guests until further notice." She said out loud, weaving a private command to the cortex. A command to take them along with that warden and her other prizes to Orhan. Making certain to note that the quiet one could make a useful weaver. The short one could be trouble and probably should have an eye kept on him. "Under the protection of Orhan and his Archon."

"Of course Lichpin," The cortex said, with a nod.

Levin erupted with fear, she had a feeling that type of reaction was coming, after hearing the name of her master. He continued to mutter about mistakes and damnation. Lotef decided to pay him little mind.

"You two, follow that cor-, skull. Until further notice, he is in charge of you."

"Where are you going?" The quiet one asked, not a hint of fear on his face or aura.

Nylah merely smiled, "I'm going to take care of a few loose ends, and then take my leave." With a simple weave, she lifted herself hanging in the air like she was weightless. She would keep her eye on the Lioness and her limping men, until they got out of reach of the ghouls under Moark's Archon. Unlike the Lions, Nylah ensured she would keep her word.

...

"You did good," Baron Moark said, "I can see why Orhan fights to keep you with him. Despite your disability."

"You honor me." Nylah said keeping her voice flat, she attempted to keep her irritation at bay. She preferred her disability if Gaja was any indication of what being fully functional meant. Her muse ruminated fear at the thought, for good reason. If Nylah had been relegated to a mere muse, what would happen to her actual muse?

"I take great pleasure in being able to prove myself to you." Her muse recoiled through her very core at the lie.

"Yes. I can still see her in you, come." He said, walking casually among the overlook acting as a wall. Paying no mind to the battle that raged beneath them. His pet eldritch following closely at his side. "Why do you not have a familiar?"

"I find them a waste, being frank my lord." Nylah found a soft glee at the insult Baron Moark's familiar radiated.

"A waste?" He said, followed by a grandfatherly laugh. Apparently, she had reflected her namesake again somehow. She would have asked how if it hadn't annoyed her so much.

Not that it stopped her muse from wondering, the aspect ruminated ["Ask him how."] In every shape, form, and vision she could muster. Nylah refused to give in to her whining, she was certain Moark wouldn't let her leave before-

"How did I reflect her this time?" Nylah ignored the cheerful visions her muse flashed like some kind of reward. She didn't ask for her, she genuinely wanted to know, was all.

"You'll find him one day, even in your current state. You don't need to cut yourself off until you two cross paths."

Oh that, Nylah rolled her eyes, she had been well aware of her ancestor's lore. It had been extolled to her since she was old enough to walk. She had no doubt which one he was referring to now. Even if her muse struggled to figure out what the old man was going on about.

"I look forward to the moment."

"I will need my grinder back."

"Of course." Nylah said, ignoring the whining her muse made as she mentally handed the fetter to the lichlord. She felt the weight of keeping the creature controlled lighten as Moark took him off her hands.

She had enjoyed using the grinder. A larger lumbering creature, no lumbering was the wrong word. It took longer than she'd like to admit to get used to handling the embalmed, but she felt it was a good first attempt. Besides the joy of using such a well-made embalmed was overshadowed by the fact of who she had to turn them against.

Her only comfort was a few of those men had at least escaped. Usually, this would have thrilled her. Losing herself in the thrill of combat. Pitting her skill against the other, and demonstrating who was better. Unfortunately, this battle left a sour taste on her tongue.

Her muse hadn't appeared to be disheartened by Nylah's guilt. Gleefully she had hacked at flesh and channeled aether like any other battle. It fed into the competitive nature of Nylah and her muse.

Here she did not take pleasure in slaughtering the living corpses the Lion clan employed. Not the warden of course, not only did Nylah hunt her down. She took joy in taking the fool's life. Maybe watching that corpse prance around under her master's fetter would make this ordeal less distasteful.

["We need one! We need one!"] Her muse had ruminated, her excitement prominent enough to overwhelm Nylah. It took Nylah a moment to realize she was talking about the grinder and not a painted-up warden corpse. As fun as it was, she still preferred her bladewraiths. They possessed a finesse, grace, and elegance she and her muse reveled in using. Not to mention they were far more affordable to maintain than that walking amberite sink. The aspect was just captivated by the novelty at this point.

"Stay, I have a surprise for you." Morak said, Nylah's muse was jubilant. Ruminating visions of a grinder commanded against multiple situations. Nylah thought against pointing out obvious facts like they couldn't bring it on their next mission, or if he was going to hand them one, why take it back beforehand?

"Of course." Nylah said burying the irritation at being made to stay still like an obedient pet. Not only was she done with this place, she had already wasted enough time. More importantly, she needed to get away from that.

She forced herself to look out from the overlook, forced herself to witness the carnage. The last of the men and their lioness fighting fruitlessly against the undead employed as a clean-up crew. Embalmed and potters rushed like rats drawn to fresh meat.

Emotions echoed across the field, bubbling like a cauldron, some formed and popped in an instant. Others shifted and reformed, and some layered on top of one another. Each would be snuffed out, by the end of the day. Whether through misfortune or too stupid to see the writing littered across the fields. Maybe she could find a way to convince Moark to let them go.

["You best get to it then."] Phantom said at the side, ["There will be no one to spare if you keep delaying."] She said with that tiring grin.

["You really need to lighten up."] Her muse chided, taking particular excitement at the sight of a grave knight spiking a living corpse in the chest. Lifting him up and waving him like a banner, until he was just a corpse. She would have to address her muse's penchant for such... conflict.

"I'm certain he is light enough for us both." Nylah said with a smile, keeping her attention on the poor lad's body. It was forced, not that her muse would have noticed... At least she assumed she hadn't if the feelings she ruminated were any indication. /Keneth better have a good explanation./ Nylah thought, her muse urging her to jump onto the battlefield and find another to feed to her blade.

The muse didn't know her thoughts, at least not entirely, from what Nylah knew about aspects it just had an intuition of what ran through her mind. Keneth and annoyance.

"Enjoying your handiwork?" A tiring voice asked from behind.

Nylah turned around and crossed her arms. "Need advice on keeping up, Kelgoth?" Nylah said with a tight smile.

He made certain to keep his emotions hidden, not even a single hint of what he really felt painted on his aura. She didn't need that weave to assume what he was feeling, disgust and superiority when facing a lowly broken.

"I just wanted to applaud you on how well you had played."

"A lot of talk for someone who made a much lower score." Warfare was always accounted and scored among the lichpin. A way to encourage they took each fight seriously. Even ones that lacked noteworthy challenges like the warden or that so-called knight—the other high-value target—she had slain. "A few lioness isn't anything to fret over... for an apprentice."

Kelgoth still kept his emotions hidden, pity he didn't put that much effort for his face. The quivering of a lip, clenching of a fist, a forced grin that failed to reach his cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond before stopping, and then a burst of genuine joy stained his aura like spilled wine.

"Oh... You have not figured out yet, have you?" He took that tone, one of an elder ready to dispense wisdom to a waiting acolyte. He did not continue expecting her to beg him for one!

["Ask him!"] Her muse ruminated over and over again, like a whining child hanging on her leg.

Instead, Nylah turned and walked away, her pride was not a worthy price to open an avenue for more of his stupid gloating. "Keneth paid back in dividends." Nylah stopped at that, her fury seeping past her weave, before she could get a grasp of it.

"What did you do?" It was a stupid question, it was obvious what had happened, but Nylah did not even want to give credence to that thought.

Kelgoth smiled, taking Nylah's denial for ignorance, "I bought him dear, it's a thing that can happen when you don't take care to keep them in line." He said flashing his teeth in what could be considered a smile in some stretch of the word.

/I'll gut the forsaken bastard!/ Nylah didn't know if the thought was directed at Kelgoth or Keneth. If there was any justice in this world she would have them both!

"You two appear to be having fun." Moark said, trailed by his familiar.

"You honor us, baron." Nylah and Kelgoth said in unison.

"You didn't spoil my surprise did you Kelgoth?"

"Of course not my baron." Kelgoth said, excitement slipping through his words.

"You had a surprise for me baron?" Nylah asked.

"Oh yes, Kelgoth found the chosen, you really did a number on him, some would assume you actually tried to kill him."

That's because she had, "I can explain-,"

"No need to explain, the rush of battle should be savored. These mistakes happen. Luckily Kelgoth is depth in the fabric of life."

Kelgoth flashed Nylah a smile, that's what he meant about 'how well she played' earlier, "It was a trivial matter." Kelgoth said.

"You fought wonderfully Nylah, I believe claiming that creature a fitting reward. I seem to remember you were fond of ripping them from their chosen." Right... The Blacklake's grudge.

"Master! You jest, if it wasn't for me-, Nylah nearly cost us our bounty!"

"Kelgoth, you must get a firmer grasp on your emotions my boy, such slips at unlikely times could be the death of you."

Kelgoth swallowed, before bowing his head, "Yes my baron, forgive my impudence."

"You are kind my baron," Nylah began, "But-"

"Kelgoth made the weirdest reports, that you struck fast and hard. Nearly as if you wanted him to escape."

Nylah swallowed, "I misjudged the worm and overextended myself, that is all."

"I figured as much. It is good I brought Kelgoth."

"Yes, it is good indeed."

...

Nylah winced at the sight, it was him the chosen from earlier, she had hoped he had escaped. He lifted his head up, nothing but an intense hate seeped through those eyes. "Go ahead, don't keep us waiting." Baron Moark said.

Nylah swallowed, making her way towards the man, /I'm sorry./ She couldn't think of a way out of this. She placed fingers on him, his chest and his forehead. His eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.

Nylah said the words, energy began pouring into him, he feebly attempted to spring free. Nylah paid no mind, the incantation continuing to escape her lips. The air warped around them, even it refused to be company to a task so vile.

Keegan gargled and wheezed his eyes taking a darker hue. Veins becoming black, not the pristine onyx of a fresh slab of marble. This one was hostile, hateful, and energy-starved. Excited to scour all life. Nylah kept to the verse, reciting the hateful words filling Keegan like a baked potato, she then regretted that comparison.

He wheezed, his movement becoming more frantic with every moment. Slobber bubbling from his mouth, slowly evaporating under the intense heat. He radiated a panic so vivid that Nylah needed to lean on her muse to keep her composure.

Once again, she giggled, the forsaken aspect took glee in the whole ordeal. She anticipated what would happen next. Reluctantly Nylah embraced her muse's perspective, the excitement of felling a foe. The achievement of ending so many at once, the thrill of victory she still revealed in before this moment.

Nylah barely heard his howl now, trying to lose herself in what good her muse saw of this situation. He popped like a balloon, the overwhelming energy spilling out. Hunting each of his followers, ready to harshly introduce them to reality.

What remained of the chosen was barely a corpse his flesh flayed. Some of which rolling up like charred paper. He looked like a man pulled out of a bonfire, at the center was his anima weakened and barely able to move.

/You have better be worth this./ Nylah thought, pulling a bottle free, working the weaves to harvest the anima. She would be contained, unable to escape for now. "I want him buried." Nylah said, turning to Kelgoth's left hand, she still hadn't learned the girl's name. "Use what spare essence we have to help those harmed by the nocturne, and let them leave."

"Lichpin, that doesn't seem wise," Fear pulsed from her. Nylah kept quiet not wanting to frighten her into silence. "Wouldn't it be kind of a waste, just killing them again?"

"We're not killing them, let any who survive leave, those willing can sue for citizenship." It was the least she could offer after pulling them into this... mess.

"A hefty order." Moark said the old bastard radiated amusement.

"A request. In exchange for this." She said, holding the anima trapped in the bottle.

"A curious trade..." Moark said, stroking his chin. "I'm certain Orham would find such a trade foolish."

Nylah shrugged, "I hear he fights to keep me around."

Moark nodded, his muse fulminated taking the bottle and handing it to him. Kelgoth followed at his heel issuing a string of complaints. Nylah smiled, she would take that as a sign she made the right choice.