<div class="floatleft"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center"><strong>Nyag'thon</strong><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><em>Host:</em>  <em>Syncope</em></span></div></td></tr><tr><td>(https://i.imgur.com/ceC6tpS.jpg)</td></tr></tbody></table></div><br/>"Yes," Syncope's voice came with a slightly different tone to it at Vholdran's compliment, "she is a treasure...for now she sleeps."  Her mouth moved to form the words though the rest of her body remained slack.  Eventually strange, wet cracking noises came from her joints as she slowly sat up, moving like a marionette.  Eyes moved before the neck would swivel to face the objects of her attention, jerking unnaturally from place to place.  Eventually the joints returned to more fluid movements following a brief testing of the neck, shoulders, and fingers, each bending in almost unnatural ways.<br/><br/>"We are dead and yet live," it observed cooly through the voice of its host, perhaps its only input to the brief spat between the mother and the reaper.<br/><br/>A sharp crack followed a quick whipping of Syncope's neck as its attention shifted to Ungrath, "Vengeance?  For what?  For who?  What lusts do you slake, lovely deep-spawn..." it seemed perhaps unconcerned about whatever might have happened in its past life.  Perhaps it was the most disconnected from that former body compared to some of the others.  Syncope's tongue slipped out to slowly run over her lips, followed by a brief stroking of her left canine tooth.<br/><br/>She hissed faintly at the appearance of the Solar, but offered not other motion or comment about the creature, instead listening to Vholdran's explanations about the current state of the planes.<br/><br/>"Mmm, yes, the Prince-That-Would-Be-King," it replied knowingly of Graz'zt with a brief nod.<br/><br/>"We know not Solana," it added, lips pursing a few times as if testing them for a moment, "she sounds like a fruitful host to break..." it added with a tone of some form of lust in its voice.<br/><br/>"The good always seek to be heroes," it continued thoughtfully, "would an Angel save a Paladin trapped in the grips of an Infernal Keep?" it mused thoughtfully, perhaps more a suggestion of a course of action rather than a real question.  Syncope's hands explored various parts of her body as if to emphasize what Nyag'thon's intent was, fingers gliding along her cheek or along her chest drawing the fabric of the old robe tight.