At the sight of the Mountain Horses, Quinn Plait nearly dropped from relief. His legs may have been numb earlier, but recently they had begun to burn again. Teska had been living with beasts so long that it seemed she sometimes forgot any semblance of human limitation. He, on the other hand, painfully remembered his.<br/><br/>Horses. Thank Fountain for horses.<br/><br/>Quinn loped up to a flaxen chestnut and ran his hand through the gold-pale mane. Thankfully, eagerly, the newfangled necromancer climbed onto its back. A sigh of obvious relief shivered from his lungs. Surrounded by mountains and people, air cold as ice, circumstances assuredly grave - this was at least a reminder of home.<br/>Not that his current location was so awful.<br/>Their guide seemed reasonably kind. Quinn could not judge his rank from mannerism nor appearance, but that heightened his liking for the man, in a way. He eyed him respectfully and kindly requested a morbid amount of food from an acolyte before gazing 'round the rest of the encampment.<br/><br/>The valley itself seemed crude but practical, nearly impossible to surprise. Undead of all sort meandered around, or else stood stationed in group. Though Quinn was used to being surrounded by them this was something else entirely. So many necromancers in one place. What possibly could have brought them together? He eyed the others as discreetly as he could.<br/><br/>The closest to him may have passed for a noble, save his Dark Armour, which was more ridged than mountain peaks. Boyar Sangrey, the guide had called him. He was pale in comparison, like a wraith, and when he growled a row of sharp teeth glinted in the light. It was not that about him that unnerved Quinn, but he was unnerved nonetheless. In haste he averted his eyes.<br/><br/>The next man down was visibly struggling with his horse. His back was turned, but clothing make identified him as Plaguedoctor. Doctor Fleshmelder, then? Teska had mentioned his work on more than one occasion, but the details Quinn could not recall. Soon as he had mounted, the young practitioner flashed him an amiable smile. The guide gestured with his hand, and before long the group had set off up the mountainside.<br/><br/>In silence.<br/>Were the great always like this?<br/><br/>Quinn glanced at Teska out of the corner of his eye. Dark curls spilled out in rivulets from 'neath the hood of her cloak, the only indication of who was inside. Any individual present would dwarf her. Among all four she looked impossibly petite...but some reagent in her bearing made up for any lack of size. Only the way she rode her horse was entirely familiar to Quinn. Hands free, bent slightly forward, swaying with each dip and rise.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">--------</div><br/><br/>Quinn would learn a great deal from coming here.<br/><br/>At least, that was what Teskaska had told herself upon inviting him. But perhaps she had...misjudged his nativity. Though older than herself, he was still young. His each mannerism, the warm glow in his eyes - the young man stood out like a wildfire in a blizzard.<br/><br/>No matter.<br/>She would deal with him later.  For now there was Boyar Sangrey, Doctor Fleshmelder, Renowned Blackvein, wine, and the task at hand.<br/><br/>Teskaska swept her cloak from below herself and sank into the remaining chair. There was small talk through which she mainly studied the map. She had one like it, but there were a few curious marks and differences. It was a rare thing for her to leave the forest, after all. The aspiring Artificer made a mental note to amend her own later.<br/><br/>Her wine she gifted to Quinn, in addition to a cup of his own. He should not be drinking on an empty stomach..but he would at least make use of it. Predictably, she soon heard him tasting it behind her. With any luck, he would get ill and leave to stand with the horses.<br/><br/>"So, I understand there is some great threat that concerns all of us?"<br/><br/>Azathur. So it began. Teskaska perked to attention, hands folding in her lap across the crinkled letter. She did not speak. She would not, unless she had to. But she had a way of bodily expression that seemed just as loud as if she had shouted.<br/><br/>It was not the threat that intrigued her. She could not care less of it to be honest, and she had not read the letter in its entirety. No - her main concern was minds. Here she sat with three particularly fantastic ones, the thought of which made her blood thrill. Her lips twitched into a cold smile, though hidden by cloak and curl. They would be fun to distill, these minds. The gathering briefly reminded her of Sar'a'nihb.