A City Betwixt

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Domino frowned slightly when Vivian said she had never fought. Unfortunate, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Still, he had no intention of getting killed by someone elses incompetence. He paused for a moment. Could they even die here? The clerical workers who welcomed them all had neglected to mention that tidbit. ~Oh well, guess we'll find that one out later.~ Well, for better or for worse, they had a group now. He still had a multitude of questions, but they could wait, he supposed. "Yes, Vivian, I'm sure you can be of some help." His facial expression remained the same unflinching smirk that seemed to radiate arrogance ever so slightly. Internally, he was growing very curious. It seemed Vivian's memories were scattered. He imagined dying could do that to a person, but then why were is own still so intact. For a moment his smirk broke into a frown, remembering what had planted him here in the first place. ~Bastards...~ He was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden arrival of a newcomer. The woman seemed older than Vivian and himself, but not quite as far in years as Sam. The old soldier introduced himself first. He gave the tall woman the same overemphasized bow he'd given Sam only a few minutes before. "Domino Stross, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rair." This one seemed formidable enough, he decided. Perhaps this would be easier than he had thought.





Annabel's eyes flashed to the young man again when Rhys reproached his staring. It seemed the soldier really did hold manners in a high regard. When Rhys asked about her acquaintance with the boy, she shook her head. "No, I don't think so." She had never seen anyone dressed like the young man in her homeland, that was for sure. She could see embarrassment in his face as soon as he had been found out. She looked over the boy for a moment, her bright blue eyes emanating a sort of calming effect. "Yes, tell us your name. I'm Annabel." She smiled and extended a hand towards the boy. Her smile was forced and her thoughts were still clouded, but she concealed all of it fairly well.
 
Elias bit his lip, and he pulled his legs over the wall to sit the opposite way, facing Annabel. His soft browns traced their way up her figure until he found a pair of stunning blues, and he shakily scratched his forearm. Even so close, Elias felt far-off like a target between crosshairs. Nevertheless, he held her hand in his, and he put his hand in hers, shaking hands briefly before pulling apart. "Elias." He bit his lip, and remembered his manners, tensely returning, "Nice to meet you, Annabel." Annabel's name tickled his tongue to say, but something in her smile belied her in the moment. He waved off suspicions and accepted whatever warmth, artificial or genuine, that he could grab to keep himself alive. She didn't dress like the people from the era he knew, but Elias could trace her attire to something in the history books, for certain. The same went for the man accompanying her.
 
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Things were going smoothly, she'd been in the city for less than an hour and she'd found people who were agreeable to spend the time with. They were strangers, but they were the reassuring sort. Vivian's head bobbed along with Ebayan's lecture. It was true, she had performed rear-line actions and genuinely helped from her position. The futility of medical aid for the mortally wounded was fresh on her mind for the frustration it had caused, but it was, if nothing else, practice. "I will help," she replied, stating aloud her own personal oath. This was a second chance in its own way, an opportunity to more good for more people. She would seize it. Her name wasn't one worth carving in history, but with her own, small methods, she could help others leave theirs. The magic of the moment faded away when Ebayan called their attention to yet another newcomer. A woman was walking towards them, and he made to approach her. She radiated an aura of strength, and it wasn't just that, she was built like a fighter and apparently had no qualms about displaying that physical prowess. Like the two men beside her, demon hunter seemed a phrase apt enough for describing her. Vivian knew very clearly what separated her from the others here, but only wondered about what exactly made them all the same. Everyone was throwing their names around, and she joined in. "Vivian Lenitz," she said, finding more confidence for the name the second time around. "Pleased to meet you." the young woman added, before falling back into silence and observation. More to learn, about the people and the place, before they made their way further into the town.
 
"Same to you," Alana said, nodding towards the other two members of their impromptu group. Domino radiated cockiness, bowing down low and puffing his chest out like a bird in heat, not to mention that absurd top hat of his. Of course she'd have to give him a chance out of necessity, but she couldn't help but find him a little unsavory already. Vivian, on the other hand, hardly seemed like much of a fighter, with a frail build cloaked in the thick garb of a religious worker of some kind. Alana was always quite religious -- the existence of angels and demons comes as no surprise to her and Vivian's profession is nothing to be surprised about -- but she worried for Vivian's safety. The girl seemed so quiet.

While Alana was mulling over the potential talents of her new companions, it struck her that she'd been called "Miss" Rair, not Missus. It seemed so odd to her now that she thought about it. Did she look young, or what? She wondered if she should be flattered.

"I don't know about all of you," Alana continued, "but I'm ready to fight some demons." She chuckled, the sound dry and forced. It wasn't a very successful attempt at breaking the ice, she was sure, but it was all she could come up with.
 
"Indeed," Ebayan agreed. "But we will need more information, first. I assume this briefing will cover most of what we need to know - the demons' abilities, their numbers and movements, where they are nesting, the type of terrain they will be in...."

As he continued to outline the intel they would need, Ebayan felt more and more in his element. Battle was a complex puzzle for him to solve, and all he needed was the perspective to see all the pieces.

"...and that's not taking into account our own individual skills and abilities. At any rate, we should probably head to the briefing so we can get underway."
 
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Rhys watched, quietly, as the two made their introductions, now turned around with his body to face the young man called Elias. Once they finished with their introductions, Rhys finally spoke up, "I'm Private Rhys Carue." The man had done it again, even though he tried to stop himself. A look of annoyance flashed across his face, but was once more put away the moment it appeared. Now that Rhys had his full attention on the young man, he gazed up and down his body, finally appreciating how odd Elias's outfit was, compared to his and Annabel's, "There's no reason to be nervous, Elias. We've already died." Rhys said, bluntly, his words piercing the air with the delivery that was less than inept. Rhys hoped the words would calm Elias, but it was only after he spoke that he realized this was probably not going to be the case.
 
Domino held the same facial expression, beginning to piece together the identities of his new compatriots one at a time. Alana seemed very forward. She was either very brave, or very foolish. Domino concluded that her ability to back up her attitude would be the deciding factor in that. Sam was all business. He seemed quite keen on the idea of throwing themselves into certain peril, though he seemed to at least be working out some sort of plan. He still hadn't quite figured Vivian out. She seemed quiet, and was the oddball of the party, but surprises came in all kinds of packages. Sam seemed to be forever pushing onward toward the monolith and the briefing, and frankly answers did seem quite appealing. The young man's hand came to his head, situating his hat. "Well then, onward and forward, I suppose." He gave a slight chuckle, that seemed to ooze overconfidence. He began striding towards the center of the town. The palace was still a decent distance away. Not one for correctness or subtlety, he broke into conversation. "So, where did you all come from? How'd you end up in this wonderful environment we now find ourselves in?"


Annabel placed her face in her palm for a moment as Rhys made his comment. It wasn't exactly the way she had planned to calm the boy's nerves, but the soldier was right. What was there to be worried about at this point? The woman giggled slightly. Though a laugh, it seemed almost as if she had just broken into tears. There was a deep sadness about the laugh, like someone laughing hopelessly at a funeral. She coughed, trying to hide the odd gesture. "Yes Rhys, I suppose we are." She took a seat across from the boy and gave another smile with her best effort. "Well Elias, it's a pleasure to meet you as well. What land did you come from? Your outfit is... strange, to me." As she sat down, the leather-clad tip of her sword struck the top of the stone wall with an audible clank. She grimaced and quickly pulled the weapon from her shoulder, lying it across her lap. Oddly enough, she seemed to take extra precaution to avoid touching the hilt of the weapon, instead maneuvering it rather clumsily by the sheathed blade.
 
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Death had taken its time coming to greet him, and he felt that no sooner had the jewelery been stripped from his hands, laid carefully and deliberately on the point of an outstretched spear, had the old reapers icy fingers coiled around him and left him faint. He had crumpled to the floor with all the grace of a dropped drinking glass, and he held up about as well as one.

He remembered, vaguely, plodding across barren fields devoid of vegetation, and wondering several times if his Lord had appreciated the gift. He wondered if his Lord knew the death that was held inside of that innocent, well meaning bit of tribute. The populations of five villages and all that would burn in both fever and fire in Bolesh were laid at his feet, a burden he couldn't flee from, nor deny. It was his fault, regardless of intentions, that the Arm of Bolesh, his unit, had been decimated by disease and plagued with poorer and poorer luck as they approached home. It was his fault that families would be torn asunder and his home would be rendered a force so ill prepared for the coming battles that it would be razed to the ground by conscripted peasantry with barely a gasp of a struggle. All of it, he would have to atone for, drop for drop of blood.

But what good is my blood to them, He mused, if every attempt at paying up poisoned the wells and ruined their health?

A day passed, into two weeks, into ten seconds, into thirty years, and he lost track of time. His wandering was automatic, unconscious, but strangely deliberate. Where was he? Where did he think he was going? Was this Nis, the hole where the souls of the damned were supposedly dumped? And why, pray tell, was he still conscious of anything but pain, if that were so? For indeed, his body was still wracked with chills and fever, and a dull pain had nestled itself deep into the base of his skull, beyond the reach of any amount of neck cracking or attempted sinus clearing, but still he could think, understand, reason, and attempt to focus on the details of his journey.

After a long period of gray and timeless plodding, his eyes registered but refused to believe that on the horizon was a dim but ever brightening light, liquid ambrosia to his long dark-accustomed vision. Others had joined him on the path, neither offering speech nor expecting any. He adapted to their mannerisms, and soon he had fallen quietly into line with all in the manner of strangers on this strange journey, a silent line marching towards the light on the horizon. After another age that could've been seconds or years, his section crested yet another barren hill, and was rewarded with the sight of a great city of golden spires, lit by a perpetual and unmoving sun. He paused, for only a moment, in awe of the spectacle, but the line attempted to continue moving through him, and soon he was shoving his way back into place, senses fully recuperated and mind sharpened back into working order. Shortly, his part of the line was funneled through one set of ancient gates, and many of the previously dull and silent folken around him were awakened, and began to fan out in confusion, some yelling, some crying, a rare few screaming. He pushed his way along, casually shouldering his way into a much less crowded passage, away from the hustle and bustle of the main roads.

Quietly, from the side passage, he listened with the most attention he could muster to the robed and hooded figures preaching gospel of redemption and the light of heaven, if the various wanderers could stand up to the might of demons and the fallen. Tossing skepticism to the side, he allowed himself a trembling smile. The others that had been in his unit, a unit of so-called legend hunters, would consider this a cosmic joke. He hadn't seen any wearing their marks, so he could only assume that they had been pardoned the fate that had befallen him.

It was less crowded as he made his way up, and much more comfortable, moving along the walls and looking occasionally back out over the void he had plodded from. A small cluster of individuals, men and women of varying ages and builds, caught his eye. The conversation was flowing well among them, and they seemed to be in no hurry to scuttle off at the sight of passers-by. He loosened his hood and lowered it, running a hand quickly through his knotty hair, before making his way towards them, saying nothing, the chains of his armor clanking gently against each other, seemingly to announce his presence. He ensured his sword was sheathed on his side, the hilt turned up high, and that his shield was secured on the back-left corner of his belt, turned up and hooked on with a custom-made clip. He adjusted the shoulder strap on his crossbow and produced a stale, crumbly, rolled-leaf cigarette from his almost empty tobacco pouch, and searched himself for a light as he made his way forward.
 
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Domino asked, "So, where did you all come from? How'd you end up in this wonderful environment we now find ourselves in?"
Ebayan scratched at his gray beard thoughtfully. With most of his memories scattered with the transition from death to Lambrecht, he had only a vague idea of how he got here. His skills seemed unaffected, though. He could remember how to turn a car battery, some plaster, a few cables, and some scrap into a shaped charge in less than two minutes, but he couldn't remember his parents' faces. He had some vague recollections of having and raising children, but he most clearly remembered the many, many battles he had participated in. It seemed that the Grey Plains only gave him solid memory of those things that would make him an effective demon hunter. Everything else was simply ancillary.

That being said, his death, while coming in only bits and pieces, was neverthless a violent one. And he remembered battles.

"Its all still a little disjointed," Ebayan admitted, "but I think I was fighting. It seems to be something I do rather frequently. As I recall, I was facing something several grades of power beyond what I normally engaged and I had a plan to take it down. I was not alone - I had allies with me. The plan worked, but not everyone survived the battle. Obviously, I was not one of them." He shrugged. "Sorry I can't be more specific. Like I said, its all still a little disjointed. I imagine that will get better with time as we acclimate to this place."
 
Vivian watched the man adjust his hat idly, thinking about whether or not he had come into this world with it. Understanding her predicament started with others, but she knew she was simply projecting her particulars onto another person's story. She walked off after Domino, sticking towards the back of their group with her side-winding stride. If she wasn't already at the rear of the procession, the man's question would have made her fall back. Instead, the woman simply hunched her shoulders and took her eyes lower on the road. Shortly put she didn't know, and what she did know made her a special sort of insecure that, though her exact failings were unknown, she associated with a terrible guilt. The lines were ready, she would tell the truth when her turn came. She had drowned, been thrown into a river actually, and lived in a temperate country she could not name. Ready for what was sure to be the first of many confessions on the way to redemption, Vivian held her characteristic silence and waited on the stories of the other group members. Sam and Alana fascinated her, they were a of a sort of incontestable experience and were sure to have a long list of exploits. Given that they were lost souls, probably not the most benign exploits. On the other hand, they were all the same, so whatever they had done, it was fine to appreciate the accomplishments of familiars.

Ebayan was the first to speak up, but his story wasn't the rock of certainty she'd assumed the man would be. That made them all even more alike, it was probable that no one here had a perfect recollection of their mortal life. Standing back and waiting suddenly didn't suit her. It was another assumption, but she knew from her own feelings that losing the entirety of your life behind a veil of almost-remembrances was devastating. There was a hole in her very person that she could never hope to fill, only build a larger but forever damaged existence around. She wanted to offer solidarity. "I hope it does," she spoke up, her dainty voice raising barely above the crowd. No matter what their memories were, they needed them back. "Everything is gone for me as well. I was drowned... but everything else is forgotten." The question on her mind needed to be asked, she went on. "The loss of memory... has happened to everyone, no?"
 
Elias chuckled a little at Rhys's remark, something Elias never expected to hear in the afterlife. Maybe in Rhys's time, it wasn't a humorous remark, but words like that passed off as highly sardonic jokes. Predictably enough, however, the duo seemed a little regretful of Rhys's choice of words in the immediate afterthought. Annabel tried to shove the topic in a different direction, and to mitigate her nervosity around Rhys's comment, Graeff obliged. "I was born at the end of an age, I lived through the window of time, and died at the dawn of a new era. Sometime in..." He paused, recalling the furthest extents of his memory as fast as he could manage and juggling his memory to speech conversion like a klutz. "Probably... no wait... two thousand thirteen- no, fourteen. And uh, you both?"
 
Two thousand fourteen. Rhys raised an eyebrow for a second, judging the man in front of him. Rhys couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before, that not everyone here was from the exact moment, and world, that he died. Rhys remember that he begun his military life around 80 AL, which would make his time of death around 105 AL, "I died around 105 AL." Rhys spoke up. Rhys wondered for a moment just how much time actually separated the two of them. As Rhys waited to hear what Annabel was going to reply with, the all too familiar sound of clanking chain mail assaulted Rhys's ears. Rhys's head instantly snapped to the source, finding a man whom looked the part of solider more-so than any other man he had met so far. It was evident that the man was currently making his way towards their group. Even while he had spent the last few minutes speaking with Annabel and Elias, Rhys felt a connection to the approaching man. Maybe it was because, like Rhys, the man was some type of front line solider, or so it appeared. The only kind of people Rhys actually could relate to on some level, "Welcome." Rhys called out, but made no gesture for the man to come join them. Only as the man came closer to the group, did he realize this man was afflicted. The man's gaunt face, and deathly look, made it seem as if this man was on the last bits of his life, and could collapse in a heap at any given moment. Rhys didn't make any expression, or make it obvious he paid attention to this fact of the man. Disease meant nothing to him, since Rhys was no longer living, and if something was truly wrong with the man, there would be no reason he'd be here on the outer walls.
 
Alana frowned at Domino's charisma. She hated being one-upped, even in simple things like starting a conversation. Eager to assume a role of authority, she took her place next to Sam as the group started towards the center of town. Alana remembered the angel that spoke to her telling her about a bell that would ring. She hadn't heard it yet, but it couldn't hurt to be early.

The conversation turned to their causes of death, and right away, Alana was sucked back into guilt, her eyes falling to the ground. The others told disjointed tales of their deaths, and Vivian's remark about memory loss had Alana feeling a little indignant. Of course she remembered everything. She remembered her expeditions into the wild unknown, her valiant conquests over mighty beasts, even her occasional dip into paid mercenary work when she needed a little help paying the bills -- not that she was particularly proud of that last one -- as well as her husband and teenage daughter. She remembered the desert, and the isolation creeping at the edges of her thoughts in her last moments.

But was that really everything? Where did she learn all these combat skills, anyway? And what kind of life did she share with Xavier and Emelia? Oh no...there really were holes. Lots of them. Alana's eyes widened, still staring at the ground, as she tried to remember any more details, anything at all, but even though she could summon up small details here and there, her life about ten years before her death was a complete blank, aside from her combat experience.

Lost in her internal struggle, Alana didn't answer Vivian's question, much less pipe up about her death. Broken memory notwithstanding, her demise in the desert was hardly something she wanted to talk about.
 
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Domino frowned as both Sam and Vivian described their memories as broken and disjointed. It seemed most of the people in this place had lost a sizable chunk of their memories. His own, however, seemed intact, at least enough for him to remember what had brought him here. He remembered it. First blood on his hands, and then an explosion. It was followed by heat, heat and smoke. He remembered clawing at a wooden floor, trying his best to escape as he coughed and choked until his throat became raw, eventually fading out. After that, darkness, and then he'd ended up here. He listened to what the others could remember. Sam had died in battle, and Vivian had drowned. No. She had been drowned. He briefly considered what would've brought about that situation. The girl didn't seem threatening, but then again, the world had always been a cruel place. Alana remained quiet. He assumed she too was coming to terms with her lapse in memory. Vivians question, however, brought out the seething question he'd been holding onto. Why did he remember? "No. Not everyone." He tilted his hat downward, the brim covering his eyes. "I remember every last excruciating moment those bastards put me through." For a moment, his tone of voice changed from confident to angry. He quickly composed himself, though. "I was an assassin, in a place called Castil. I died in a burning house. Choked on the smoke I suppose." He raised one hand out to his side. "Which makes this all the more ironic." As he extended his hand, dark grey smoke began to rise from his palm for a moment before he pulled the hand back to his side. "What a joke." They were nearing the palace now, and the entrance was in sight. Two men, easily seven feet in height, stood at the entry point, armed with polearms of some sort.



Annabel cocked her head to the side in a puzzled fashion as Elias described himself as coming from '2014'. Either he came from a different time, a different world, or both. She hadn't even considered that the people here could be from such a varied set of origins. Annabel brought her hand to her chin, mulling over her past. "I... I can't remember the year. I was from a place called Esterl, though. An island, in the midst of a wide sea..." She seemed to trail off into her own thoughts. She was surprised as a soldierly-looking man approached their group. She repeated after Rhys. "Yes, welcome." The man appeared sickly, which surprised her in their current environment. She hadn't considered that disease would carry over into the afterlife. Her eyes glanced back to Rhys. He, too had carried the scars of his past over. She was glad her death hadn't given her any scars to bring over.
 
Carl slowed and stopped when he stood roughly ten paces from their collective, giving them a quick once over. A shorter woman, garbed in red, with a great knife. A young man, disfigured by torture, war, or both. Lastly, an in-between of child and man, wearing unusual and foreign dress.

Blessed only with the best, he thought, raising his hand to to their hail.

"Thank you, thank you. I apologize for interrupting on your palaver, but..." He blundered his words and fell silent for a moment, looking out over the wall again. What was he supposed to say to these people? How did you all bite the dust? He was fairly certain it was obvious what had killed him, but even so...

"Ah.. Have any of you seen any men wearing symbols like this, here?" He pointed to his chest, his well worn vest displaying an eye painted in a bright, sky blue, slashed through with an angry red streak. "I would appreciate it greatly if any of you could share if you've seen anything,".
 
Elias nodded along as he breathed in the times and places separated by far more than simply time and space. Dimensions and realms of all kinds distanced the trio, soon to become a quartet. The clanking of chainmail, a cacophany unfamiliar to Elias but comparable to the grinding of forks on porcelain plates, pierced the group's conversation and startled Elias's ears to alarm. His head swiveled almost instantaneously to the presence, and his lips sounded a sweet and simple "Hello." Scars, armor, and soft skin seemed to be the standard uniform for Lambrecht after Elias had looked the new man up and down thoroughly. Elias ran a hand up to his hair to fix his hair by sweeping those black bangs to the right as if new company would pass a heavy judgment on a young one in a land of dead people. Perhaps, perhaps not. But even as he was dead, Graeff cared about good impressions, including the impressions left on a man who was clearly afflicted with some nasty condition.
 
Rhys shook his head at the man's question. Rhys had never seen a military insignia like that in life, or even of the same design. Rhys conjectured that the man was looking for men from his unit here in this limbo. Rhys remembered doing the same for a little bit, but his search was short, as he soon realized that even if they were here, he doubted he'd find them in the throngs of the crowd. Rhys took liberty to step forward towards the man, closing the gap to the spot where the man had stopped. Rhys swooped his cloak to the side, out stretching his right hand, once more, "Private Rhys Carue." Rhys introduced himself to the solider. Rhys had yet to meet another military man, and felt somewhat glad that he had met another person that shared the same lifestyle he had. Rhys completely disregarded the man's sickly look, and seemingly frail physique. It did not bother Rhys, nor did it offend him to be in the company of an afflicted man, "Did you just arrive here?" Rhys asked. It had taken Rhys an immeasurable amount of time to find the city, and he was already not for sure how much time he had spent here, but he was certain that he had never seen the man before.
 
Vivian noted the change in Domino's voice, and raised her eyes to look at the speaker. Of course some people would be angry about their death, but she felt a little responsible for having been the person to pose the question. Really, what else was there, though? This clearly wasn't a very joyful afterlife, their paradise, if that was even a proper word, lay behind an undefined legion of demons. "Sorry," she said to Domino, he was an assassin, but even he had a right to be upset. Burning to death, or suffocating on smoke, she did not imagine that either was a very pleasant way to die. Before she could become sidetracked by contemplation of the nature of their new world, the man's hand was smoking. She hadn't the slightest where it was coming from. He spoke of it like it was some ability, but she had never seen magic before. It was not much of a consolation prize given their current condition, but he had clearly found a talent barred to him in life. Congratulations were probably in poor taste, so Vivian stifled her comment. The silence didn't last long, because by then they were in sight of the palace and its impressive guards. She stood to at the rear, awaiting the judgment of the group. They were just guards, approaching them wasn't any harm, or so she figured.
 
Annabel looked over the insignia for a few moments before shaking her head with a frown. "Sorry, no, I haven't seen that symbol before. Are you looking for someone?" She felt finding someone in Lambrecht was akin to locating a singular leaf in a forest, but still, she wanted to be of any assistance she could. Rhys introduced himself to the man, prompting the former executioner to follow suit. She carefully placed her sword beside her on the ground, again avoiding any contact with the hilt of the weapon. The blonde woman found her way to her feet and gave a nod to the newcomer. "Annabel, Annabel Trist, pleased to meet you." For a moment her eyes glanced towards the tower in the center of the city. That had been the assigned meeting place for anyone interested in the hunts to gather. They were supposed to be summoned by the ringing of a bell. She wondered how long it would be before they were called. She glanced at the men around her. Were they going out to hunt these 'demons' as well?
 
The change in Domino's tone caught Alana's attention. For a moment, she was able to forget her troubles to see Domino display the powers he had apparently gained after death. "That's really cool," Alana said with a wry smile. "I've never seen magic like that." The tentative optimism that had been in her voice minutes before had vanished. When the group came to a sudden halt in front of the guards, Alana very nearly bumped into Sam; a surprised glance around revealed that they had already reached the palace. Time sure flew when you were talking about death, it seemed.

Alana was the first to step forward; perhaps killing demons would take her mind off of things. "Hello, gentlemen," she said, nodding her head in a semi-respectful greeting. "I understand we're supposed to meet here for further instructions about the demon hunting? We're all new, you see." New? New to what, death? It sounded entirely too strange when it left her mouth, but it was too late to take it back now.
 
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