Tyrone
Upon the quiet morning of the rising sun, where trees sway at the natural winds that pass through the soft and gentle leaves of green. Amidst the abundance of a magic filled land, a young fellow would be sleeping till the morning light have reached the optical lenses of his enchanted mask. Marking him to wake up from his tireless rest and slumber. Though peaceful was his sleep, the memories and dreams of madness still lingers. Yet, it was somewhat comforting. A feeling of relief that the God of Madness have imparted his chaotic influence upon his mind. Both a blessing and a curse that will forever remain eternally.

He would rise up from where he is and looked around to an open clearing with clean water nearby, stationed in a grove, the young man would slowly look upon the small pond to look upon his reflection. Seeing the porcelain face of an aviary face, Lorenzo would slowly take it off to reveal who he truly was; a demonic monster. Eyes protruding in his cheeks and near his hairline at the top of his forehead, scars seemingly so deep that one could see his very flesh pulsating from blood flow, and finally pupils so green and dark they resemble that of a demon itself.

"**....**"

Setting aside his mask, he would slowly start taking deep breaths while gently closing his eyes. Even if the memories of pain and agony replays in his head like a neverending mixtape, he would remain composed in the midst of his own insanity. Resisting the call of Madness. And thus, he would start to meditate. 

Spirits of the dead began to appear around Lorenzo as he does, floating and encircling around him gently as if they were dancing. Wild creatures, preyed hunters, all of them were seemingly motionless but vigilant as they watched him take a moment of respite.
John
The mothfolk known as Vhun had set out to the forest, as she was prone to doing. Such a place was, after all, a cornucopia of plants and barks that made fine dyes. It was far better to make her own dyes, the woman thought, than to pay someone else to make them. Certainly some other pigments could make richer colors, but for the average garment that wasn't important. Besides, it gave her something to do on days when she had little work.

As such, the mothfolk had found herself in grove, her basket laden with flowers, a few mushrooms, and a selection of tree barks. It had been a successful foraging trip, Vhun thought, and she was quite pleased with this. There would be plenty of money to be saved with these, and she was quite excited to experiment with a few new colors. Given this excitement, Vhun's attention was squarely focused on the contents of said basket, head tilted down toward it. She wasn't all too focused on where she was, and was simply walking. There was no reason to pay all too much attention, given that she knew these woods rather well.

She didn't notice Lawrence, at least not as first. The sound of... Something... In the area brought her out of her thoughts, the mothfolk stopping at the edge of the forest. Ah. Something was wrong here, she could tell that based on the appearance of this person. However, she wasn't sure if he had seen her. Perhaps it was best to simply give it a moment.

In appearance, Vhun was a rather odd looking woman. She stood at 5'9 and despite being bipedal, looked more insectoid than humanoid. Her eyes were large and bulbous, and were dark black and pupilless. Her skin was a dark gray, nearly black, cut only by an almost triangular section of white fur-hair across her face that spanned from antennae to nearly her mouthparts. Though they couldn't be seen, given the angle, a pair of large wings sprouted from her shoulders. She wore a long sleeved white shirt over her torso, this being covered by a periwinkle cloak with silver embroidery on the collar. Her legs were covered by a pair of black slacks and black boots.
Derek
Hidden from the mortal eyes of the mothfolk, the dead spirits of the forest would hide amongst the leaves and branches. Silently watching the woman traverse the clearing. Seeing that she has seen their master, they went to the shadows and into the clear pond right in front of him. Alerting him with dark whispers of an intruder. 

Upon hearing the report, the dark robed man would immediately make a loud and powerful clap. The area seemingly got cold as the spirits were quickly faded under his command. Reaching towards his porcelain aviary mask, he placed it upon his face and wore it once more. Wearing the hood to cover his head, the man stood up from his place and turn around to meet the mothfolk who had come to the peaceful grove.

Lorenzo wore a hooded black robes with a roguish aesthetic onto it that fairly states that he is either a dark sorcerer or an alchemist. While his porcelain mask has depictions to that of a crow. Wearing leather black gloves and battered brown boots. To his side is a book with stitches, seemingly made out of various skins and tissues. It seemed to be moving as it inhales and contracts. Finally is a jaded figured skull amulet upon his chest, seemingly glowing and humming with dark energies.

The robed man took a brief moment to analyze Vhun, after which he would speak in a deep and malevolent voice. Having a pitch and tone similar to that of a demon's. "**Good day. What brings you here in these woods? Here to purchase poisonous concoctions or healing remedies? I have a wide variety of goods to sell. Mostly potion related. **"

Like any other alchemists around, he would show off a more friendly and business minded behavior. Not only wil he be able to study the personality of the individual before him, but judge whether or not she is a danger to him. "**Perhaps a mothfolk such as yourself want a jar of honey? I still have a supply of it. Fresh from these forest woods.**"
John
As the robed man clapped, Vhun noticeably jumped. He was trying to startle her, it seemed, which she found to be strange. He was the sort to enjoy dramatics, it seemed. The mothfolk wasn't fond of those sorts, but it seemed she had come upon one despite this. Her arms moved to fold behind her back, the woman slowly advancing on him. She wasn't going to show her apprehension. That would be stupid.

If her face had been capable of showing any emotion, it would have shown nothing save for pure confusion. Why would she be here to shop? What kind of business owner would position themselves out in the middle of nowhere? Not a good one, it seemed, nor a trustworthy one. Though her head did not move, her gaze had settled on that book. That was strange. So was his garb. She wasn't going to question it though. It wasn't worth the paper or the damage to her sanity.

When she spoke, she spoke in Ivathi. The mothfolk doubted he would understand, but it was worth a shot. She accompanied her words by an exaggerated shake of her head.

"No. I have no need."

The honey was somewhat enticing, however, but she found its proximity to poisons to be somewhat questionable. She gave a nod after the shake of her head. Hopefully he'd interpret this correctly, or at least that she was interested in the second option. It would, of course, depend on the price, but she didn't think it would be all too expensive. It was just honey, after all.
Tyrone
Since he is not mothfolk himself, Lawrence couldn't understand a thing that she said. Making him a little confused and somewhat concerned about the given scenario. After all, it seems as though there's a language barrier. However, it seems as though Vhun had understand his words. And as such, made the alchemist breathe a sigh of relief. He would soon head to one of the brushries for a brief moment before coming out with a riduculously large backpack seemingly three times his size. Easily the backpack of a goliath's. But it seems as though the robed man doesn't even have any trouble carrying it.

In hand was a jar of honey, perfectly clean and sanitized as it sparkles upon the gentle glow of the sun. Coming closer to Vhun, he would present to her. And upon close inspection, he would actually have a fragrant smell of sweet milk and flowers. For someone who looks so glomy and evil looking, it seems as though he smells like a fresh fruit. "**A jar of honey only cost 1 silver coin. It is usually 2 silver coins but I have a surplus at the moment.**"

Lawrence would now await the response of the mothfolk before him, seemingly analyzing every part of her body. To be fair, he was both curious and interested in the anatomical structure of the mothfolk. And surely enough, his curious eyes is hidden upon the porcelain mask that hides the somewhat questionable gaze.
John
Oh good. He couldn't understand. That meant that she could say whatever she wanted without being understood. Saying whatever she felt wasn't a particularly nice thing to do, Vhun knew, but it still was fun. Plenty of people made the assumption that she couldn't understood them, and she was more than familiar with the cruel comments that came from that. It was only fair that she do the same once, of course, she verified that she couldn't be understood.

Vhun took a step back as Lawrence came closer. It wasn't meant to be rude by any means, rather she liked to keep a few feet of distance between herself and strangers. People sometimes treated her with disrespect based on how she looked, or felt as if they were entitled to touch her wings or other parts of her. She didn't want that today.

The mothfolk nodded, reaching her lower hand down into her purse to pull out a few coins. Her basket still hung from her other lower arm, and her two upper arms were pulled in tight to her sides. Once a coin was produced, the woman took a step closer to him, holding the coin out in a four-fingered hand.

"Here."

Once more she spoke in Ivathi, her tone high-pitched and friendly. She could have said anything, but she thought she may as well speak a word that was short and sounded pleasant.
Tyrone
Lawrence would slowly take the single piece of silver coin from Vhun's fingers and gave the jar of honey to her with a bit of care and security in its delivery to her. If she would touch it, the glass is so clean that it is actually slippery and can easily be slipped off from her grasp. As such, the alchemist was supporting it by using his hand as a platform underneath it. "**I thank you for your patronage. But please, do be careful. The glass is slippery. Do you have hair follicles at the top of your fingertips to support a firm grasp?**"

Menacing, deep, malevolent, and demonic his voice is, there was actually a tone of respect and kindness to it. Whether or not it was evident, he seemed to be slightly concerned and curious on how Vhun would carry such an item. "**I had read that some of the mothfolk have small mandible-like grips on their fingers. Though unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of understanding the language of your people. It is simply too complex to analyze the pronounciations, diction, tones, and overall mood of each word.**"

Presumably that Vhun has now a firm grasp on it, the robed individual would slowly move away his hand out of underneath the jar. "**It is a good thing that you are able to understand the Common language. And for that, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lawrence. Lawrence Silvermoore. Practitioner of the Uncorrupted Dark Arts of Necromancy. I am also a travelling alchemist. Nice to meet you.**"
John
The mothfolk didn't reply, given the strange and somewhat intrusive nature of the question. She was fairly certain she did not. Instead, she pulled her hands back, then flexing her fingers to show that she, could, in fact, simply grip the jar. After this somewhat condescending gesture, the woman simply chose to place one hand flat beneath the jar, the other wrapping around it. The jar of honey was quickly deposited back into her bag, those lower hands then setting back to rummage in her bag. It was time to find her cards.

If Vhun could have rolled her eyes, she most certainly would have. Instead, as he continued to speak about her hands and her language, she simply extended her upper left hand for him to see. Mandibles, he called them? That was the wrong word, she knew, but she wasn't petty enough to correct him. Certainly not, Vhun thought. Her hand was, to all appearances, unimpressive. It possessed three fingers and a thumb, and no nails to speak of. Perhaps the most interesting feature was hue, this being the same charcoal gray as the rest of her, and the thin layer of downy fuzz that covered her skin.

It was time to communicate, the mothfolk decided, as he continued to speak. Those were a lot of words to say something that could be said with relatively few. He didn't speak Ivathi. She hadn't expected him to, even if it was somewhat disappointing. Vhun's mandibles, though they were difficult to see, moved lightly as she thought. 

Slowly, Vhun lifted her lower hands from her bag, lifting with them a set of worn slips of parchment. She proceeded to shuffle through them, clearly looking for a specific few.

*Nice to meet you.*

This was displayed for a moment, the writing being in a neat, if not slightly loopy, handwritten script.

*My name is Vhun.*

A pause, as if she was debating, and then shuffling.

*I am a seamstress.*

She thought she may as well provide her own occupation, given that he'd stated his. Lawrence. That was a nice name. She'd never met anyone named Lawrence before. Or anyone that was a necromancer, for that matter. There was a first time for everything.
Tyrone
"**I see, a weaver of tapestry.**" Lorenzo would look around. For a moment, he would stand there in silence, staying very still as if he was concentrating. The man was trying to find some old bones in the wilderness around him to see if there are any big and strong enough skeletal remains to make chairs made out of bones. Though unfortunately, there were none. As they have already been buried and grinded deep in the earth.

After that awkward pause and silence, he would speak once more as if nothing happened. "**Nice to meet you. Tell me Vhun, why are you around these woods? Are you searching for raw materials for craft?**" The robed individual slightly tilted his head in curiosity, as if he was mimicking the behavior of a confused puppy. Or that of a curious bird since his mask depicts that of one. Though no one really knows what kind of race he is underneath that rougish attire of his.


"**Also, have you written those parchments on your own? Although convinient, I sense that they have limited vocabulary of the Common Language. Given that the parchments are of course limited as well.**"
John
Not really, Vhun thought, but if he wanted to believe that, that was fine. She'd attempted a tapestry in her time and it had gone exceptionally poorly. It wasn't that she didn't know how to embroider—she certainly did— but she just wasn't good at large scale things. She wasn't good at arranging subject matter in a way that looked good, even if technically her work was sound. The mothfolk didn't reply to the first question, though she did perk up at the second. Yes. That was accurate. The moth nodded, shifting her basket forward to show off the plants within. 

Another nod. He really liked to talk, Vhun thought. What exactly did he think she gained by hearing his commentary on her cards?

*I understand your language.*

She did have a book, Vhun knew, she could write if need be, but she simply didn't want to. It didn't take a genius to see that she had a limited number of cards. Despite this, she thought she may as well throw him a bone.

*Yes.*

The mothfolk then gestured to him, and presented another card.

*What are you doing?*

She hoped that this wasn't meant to be rude, and she was just curious. What was he doing out in these woods?
Derek
"**That answer is quite simple. I am simply meditating.**" Lawrence would look behind and walked away for a moment. Taking a few steps away from Vhun before turning his attention towards her once more. "**As you may know, Necromancy is banned by the Order of the Mage Hand by its heretical nature of defiling the sanctity of the dead as well as defiling the divine creation of the gods. Not only that, but the users of it are extremely... How do I say this...**" 

Since technically he is a necromancer himself, he has to find the perfect answer inside that scrambled mind of his. Though it would be a miracle to make any lick of sense to one who has touched utter madness and insanity. "**... Fanatic. I on the other hand, am in perfect control of my power, and my mind. Magic in itself is a pure construct, it can be manipulated to become good or evil depending on the representations of it. I am afraid that I am one of the few necromancers who truly understand the concept it tries to entail.**"

With one clap, the souls of the damned began to rise. Though it wasn't the soul of mortal beings, instead, it was one of nature. Those who had recently passed in this grove even though there were no signs of death or corpses.

There were a few deers and a stag. Birds of various species, both great and small. And finally, small critters that lay about around the forest. All of them appearing in a blueish-tinted glow. "**Although indeed heretical, to those who truly seek and understand the concept of Necromancy is to understand the balance between life and death. It is not merely manipulating the dead. No, it is manipulating the soul itself.**"

With another clap, all of them vanished. Slowly fading off into the realm of the dead once more. "**A true Necromancer understands this delicate balance. But it is up to the magic user itself whether or not he would represent it in the name of good or evil.**"

"**Though, I recommend not encountering necromancers. They are always hostile.**"
John
Vhun nodded along as he spoke, unsure what she'd said to set him off on this explanation. Maybe he was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to about his beliefs, or he had misinterpreted her polite conversation as intense interest. She'd just have to wait and see, she thought. It wasn't like she was going to cut him off. He seemed like he needed to say something.

The mothfolk continued her repetitive nodding as he continued talking. People who had "Perfect control" Of their abilities didn't typically feel the need to inform others as such. She was fairly certain that this person wasn't all too sane, or that this person had some serious problems. Slowly, the woman took a step back, all four hands clasping in front of her frame. This posture lasted for only a moment, the woman's hands then moving to tuck her cards back in her bag, pulling out a small book and charcoal stick in their place.

Did he not understand that the issue most had with necromancy was not the magic, but rather the use of the dead? That was the issue. Most would be rather upset at the idea of anyone using their deceased loved ones corpse for anything at all. It didn't matter if the magic was light or dark. It was that it required the use of a dead person. Vhun set to writing.

*Why are you telling me this? How do you know that I am on your side?*

This felt like a safe answer, at least one that would make him stop.
Derek
For a moment, Lawrence would stand in silence. Contemplating on the question given to him. So much so that he placed a hand upon his the chin of his porcelain mask, to which he began to slowly make small steps toward Vhun. On the dark and void lenses of the mask's eyes, there was a sickly green glow emitting from it. It was demonic in nature, and staring straight through the mothfolk as if he was looking right through her very soul.

"**I don't know. Probably because if I were any other Necromancer, you would've been dead by now.**" 

The tone of his demonic voice was rather expressionless and void of any diction. Seemingly empty and neutral, expressing somewhat an ominous and deathly presence to it. "**Probably because I'm lonely. Or simply because madness takes a toll on a cursed mortal like me. Only Elutharius knows what's going on inside this mind of mine. Since both Madness and I have... History with each other.**"

Taking a deep sigh, he would put his hands behind his back and fixed his posture. Standing straight and simply looked behind once more to gaze upon nature's beauty. For a moment, he would remove his porcelain mask. To which his voice gained a dramatic overall change, unlike earlier which his voice was that of a demon, now it was comparable to that of an angel.

Pleasing was an understatement, for his voice seemingly warms the heart and soul of a person. It was as if he was a masterful bard, but obviously that wasn't the case. Compassionate, Caring, Loving, all the qualities that depicts a good man were the tone and pitch of his voice. Softly spoken with exquisite accent.

-

"*We serve the dark to protect the light, no matter what the cost it might. Gods or Goddesses they may be, we deny their call for they have abandoned thee. I speak for I have heed a darker call. Those bold enough to tread deeper into the path of Sin for eldritch knowledge. Its unquenchable call and yearning, born from the flesh and bone. To unlock forbidden secrets and the most foul of black rituals to call forth the damned. To truly embrace such power, you must take it into the world. But you will be shunned, scorned. Marked as a living sacrifice to this profane and unholy power. But you will not be alone. For the dead is always by your side, and when enemies wage war with you, then there will be no living left alive. Only the Dead. For the Death has no mercy.*"

The man seemed to have lost his mind as he spoke gently of a dark oath. Ravings of a mad individual, though there was no malice to it. His voice held loneliness, sadness, hate, longing, and seemingly all broken. Though to how he describes it, the man seemed no ordinary individual. Much more, it seems that he has a certain dislike with the gods. To much of what he said, matches some description to what a human is supposed to be today. 

He would wear his mask once more and face toward Vhun. The demonic voice returning back as he spoke once more. "**Now, will you report me? It does not matter if you will or will not. I am no enemy to you, or to every innocent life in this world. My war lies elsewhere.**"
John
Vhun just stared at him for a minute. She was definitely right. This person was either unstable, incompetent, or just straight up pompous. One thing was clear, however. There was no way in hell that she was going to consume any of that honey. There was almost certainly something wrong with it, and even on the off chance that it was perfectly fine, there was just too much of a risk of it.

After an uncomfortable moment, the woman very slowly lifted her upper right hand and made a thumbs-up. What else was there to say? She genuinely did not know how she'd ended up in this situation. This, she thought, was why she shouldn't ever approach someone just sitting in the woods. Never mind that Vhun herself was walking here alone. That was one thing. Being actively doing a task and just sitting was one thing.

The woman just waved a hand, as if dismissing his statement. She'd begun to back away by now, very slowly. She was about done here, and had no intention of reporting him. He seemed pretty harmless, if not a little strange. Her cards shuffled once more, the mothfolk displaying a final card as she made it back toward the trees.

*No.*
Tyrone
It was obvious that Vhun wanted to get out of the area, though Lawrence didn't seem to mind it. He would simply wave at her as she went back to the woods. The man seemingly pleased and satisfied to have made mortal interaction with another. Though he is kinda sad at the same time, for his loneliness would be bound once more. "**Thank you for buying from my items and wares. If you are in need of other ingredients, potions, or minor commodities, I will always be free 24/7. After all, the dead don't really need rest or sleep.**"

Since she was such a kind person for allowing him to speak, it would be rude to not give her a face to reveal. Though unnerving it maybe, he can't help but feel shameful and guilty for not showing it. And so, the robed man would take off his mask to reveal a shadowed face, within it several glowing eyes tinted with a bright green. With that face alone, he could easily be misinterpreted as a demonic spawn or a horrible abomination. 

"*Goodbye, and thank you for your patronage.*" He would express a warm and wide smile to Vhun, though this could easily be interpreted as a crooked, evil and malevolent grin. Seemingly both terrifying and intimidating to those who may think otherwise of his kind gesture.
John
The mothfolk continued nodding as Lawrence continued speaking, continuing to back away as she did. It wasn't the most polite action, she knew, but she was rather desperate to extricate herself from the situation. She had a feeling that he wouldn't follow her, and even if he did, she was more than confident that she could take off into the air and be out of here without any issue. She was quite fast on the wing, after all.

Upon seeing his face, the woman had no visible reaction, given the nature of her face. Her mandibles moved lightly, but besides that, the woman did nothing. She had an inkling that this man potentially had some say in the way that he looked. However, she really didn't much care about that. Either way it was how he looked, and she wasn't going to judge him.

Vhun offered him a wave and yet another nod as he smiled at her. It was a strange smile, she thought, a strange smile that she didn't quite like the look of, but it didn't matter. She stowed her book back in bag, fastened the bag shut, and then turned on heel. The whispering shuffle of Vhun's wings broke the silence, the woman had opened her wings, and appeared to be about to take off. Sure enough, just about a minute later, a dark, winged figure could be seen rising about the trees.
Tyrone
As he sees the mothfulk unfurl her wings to fly off of the forest, his hand would start to emit a sickly blue glow. To which a spectral projection of his skeletal hand would soon come forth. Conjuring a pale blue flame, he would place it inside a pocket of his inside his robes to which an undead crow would emerge from it. Seemingly filled with maggots and disease as it foams with a green unknown substance.

"*Squiggle. Be a dear and make sure our friend stays safe on her way out. If there are any enemies in the vicinity, call for me.*" With a drowned response of a caw from the undead crow, it would began to slowly hide within the trees in swift and silence. Maintaining a relatively safe distance to watch Vhun make her way.