Ever since the mysterious continent of Onnen surfaced and Lazarus had traveled it, the cleric had found himself rather enchanted. Intrinsic qualities of the locales resonated with him in immeasurable ways. Firstly, it was primal in a sense that was visceral. This intuitive feeling was a proclivity to all that sailed here, but to him in-particular, the preternatural power reminded him much of the old ethereal realm to which he was tied. Perhaps not visually…just spiritually. The reverence in which native shamans spoke with him nourished his growing curiosities further. Lazarus could also relate heavily to not being, but at the same time…always having been. The whole of Revaliir was shaken by the invasion of the impossibly strange and insidious insectoids that had origins in this ancient land. In a very short time, however, the scars of the battles were ultimately forgotten - such as if they never were. Such was his life, he thought, in some distant memories.
Autumnal eyes transfixed by the detailed maw of one of several lion statues dotting the Mamjaku outpost, Lazarus did not realize at first that he was being addressed.
"Oi, you're that one that whaps devils for coin, no?"
The feminine voice was distinctively Vilpamolese. "Heard about you. Looking awfully lean for how much here that's foul."
Without turning around, Lazarus smirked as his gut gurgled longingly in reply. "Lots more than that…If you've a proposition, bless your heart, I'd be ever so inclined to consider. It's been so dry of late, the trees are bribing the dogs."
Whirling on his heel, Lazarus also drew down the hood of his duster as well to greet the caller. The afternoon drizzle had all but subsided. Bright blue eyes looked him up and down. Dark blonde locks were thoughtfully twined around a dainty and manicured finger. The woman's silky blouse was shifted lower than how it naturally sat on her frame - no doubt with hopes that attentions would be drawn to her generously-proportioned bosom. She would find that with him, such entreating visuals were not necessary to coax him into danger. Indeed, though he was aware of what was afoot, his oft unsettling gaze never left hers. "Eleonora, or just Nora" she said at last, after some hesitation. "Lazarus, if you didn't know already."
Beckoning him to follow her, she began on a long-winded explanation of her purpose of exploration in the region, and began to speak of dangerous varieties of undead that lurked in the dense forests near the coastline, unlike anything in either Canelux or Parvpora. Though he was listening, Lazarus couldn't help but be distracted by a pair of men who wore similar dress to his possible employer, giving him a look that could only be described as…hungry as they passed.
"They working with you?" the cleric asked with a nod in their direction. Nora giggled and waved her hand. "Oh, yes. They came with me from the port. Need some heavy lifting done occasionally, you know. They don't speak a word of Common."
He didn't like the scowling looks those men had…not one bit. Nonetheless, Lazarus nodded and let the woman finish her story…