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[Merci d'Rue]

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The scent carried on the wind moved thru her like a chaotic cannon blasting every fiber in her body. Her mind roared loudly.

Remember who you are, who you were and whom you always will be..Merci d'rue...

The Ragdoll of Umbra. She had at one time considered herself such. Her walk was not centered, her legs were disjointed when she first arrived. She was a woman who had returned from what could be considered a jarring life changing event. Merci, had begun uncoordinated and broken.

Umbra, the ab'Arawns Umbra, had changed that.

The necro arena had bones, piled about and she did not shrink from it, no she moved towards it. She could feel the dead soil beneath her, the stone. She could hear the creaking and rustling of the bones. Her eyes moving to Willow remembering her form and who she was....What Umbra meant to the young 11 year old wraith.

She paused hand touching a bone, outstretched to the energy of death there and the subtle yet gentle reminder overwhelmed her. Merci, this is not your Umbra..... She nodded..leave it be Merci..but never forget.

Her eyes searched the familiar setting, she could still hear the clanging of swords echoing off the walls of this bloody arena. She would never forget. Her eyes turned in the direction of Malas, in the direction of the white mountains that formed a gate..

Where is the Matriarch, the Warmaster, Sagemaster, and Warlords of the realm, these days..Always there...

It was always here...she was always there, and they were always with her.

I am Merci, Warlord of Deceit... Oracle of Stonegate, and the shadows heard her.
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May destiny guide you...