Welcome to Gaia! ::

A disembodied laughter echoed above the crashing waves along the ship, gaining in a sharp grating cackle as the shadowed figure of Churl Drekthal emerged from a vacant corner. Eerie to have been absent from sight for so long until this point, but the experienced Karonian was wary to approach his teammates, regardless of their common goal within this...tournament. He stepped forward, allowing for the light to cut across his upper chest, the action somehow focusing his already receding amusement.

"Delightful."

Thoroughly pleased at such a visceral display of power and fortitude, he felt a growing comradeship with this Tikal already, if only for its effective ability. Still unsure of how to approach the two, whether to conserve caution or merit something more liberal....too many unknowns . It just may be that this formulation was a cunning way to dispose of the warlock, tricking the being into a false sense of security. Yes, a good idea to remain wary.

"...Krivbeknih?" From what he was informed of these two were certainly members. "...I am Churl Drekthal."

"Drekthal . . . Scales, but not a . --"

"Demon. No."

His slitted pupils centered to sickly yellowed eyes dilated when Tikal's 'voice' entered his mind. The creature didn't respond, curious of both his companions he made necessary assessments, everything came to stall embellishment of his answer. This group was sincerely strange, brought together by a force he was unfamiliar with yet one he wanted to know more intimately. Though, now better acquainted he exposed himself from the protection of shadow, standing to his full stature at nothing short of six feet and three inches.

A prominent man to be sure in height, he felt, while it was easier to spot him, the menace of presence was enough to perturb any mugger or belligerence that may target him. The Karonian raised it's scaled hand to his head, swiping back the leathered hood covering his similarly reptilian head. A fanged maw smiled broadly towards Lydia, enjoying her question that it was possible their benefactor meant for demonic figures to be present in this aptly named Dark Tournament.

"However, I wouldn't quip the human race too quickly." A series of clacking accompanying his words, "Adaptation is our best trait, afterall." A bit of embellishment could always be interesting, went well enough with his keen ignorance of the passerby. Attacking him meant attacking the other two, at least, the most logical conclusion he could set on was to aid an ally before something like a tournament.

Churl's eyes reigned in to Lydia's sudden complete change of character, that voice entrenched itself into his body, something was significantly different. He knew that this possession was done from either strong magic, will or that, maybe, his companion here was a medium. Good things in small packages and all that.

Whatever it truly was, the Karonian nodded towards the girl but instead of acknowledging the force he backed away further into the shadow. This was not the place to be having such a conversation, at least, within his own experience with this level of power it was better to do it within the dark temper of isolation; a place secluded from the general public.

The Malithae, the deities who powered his ambition, would never be so out in the open. To say that, if this change was, indeed, brought on by their godly sponsor, Churl was made uncomfortable was clear. He considered himself a deadly practioner in perversive conjuring, but when met so quaintly with a demonstration unnerved him.

Lizard lips ducked out for reflection.

The ropey tendons of Gideon's neck flexed; but nothing otherwise betrayed his present vexation with the woman. Between the Darkened Devil's ridiculous bravado and Mathilda's inflated sense of self-importance, there was no way in the nine circles of hell that a conversation was going to take place. Dipping his chin in customary farewell, Gideon stepped back once before crisply turning on his heel and walking off, gesturing for the Advocates behind him to fall into line and follow his lead. Once again would Gideon walk the path to the prow, his steely-blue eyes taking into consideration the Devil's daughter for a few moments before looking towards Roen.

Before Gideon could make his report however, the Darkened One began to speak, eyes still transfixed on the waves before the ship that crashed against the prow. "She didn't come," he said in tones very close to anguish, his shoulders rising and falling in what Gideon could only surmise as a sigh. Clearing his throat and stepping forth, Gideon quietly and quickly sketched the scene that had played between he and Mathilda, repeating every word she said sans her Germanic accent. Falling silent, Gideon waited for an awkward moment or two before Roen deemed fit to speak again. Surprisingly enough though, it wasn't him who the Devil addressed; it was his daughter. "Faustina," he announced quite suddenly. "Sit. You sound sick and I don't want you retching all over the place."

Breathing in the deep saline scent of the air, Roen reached forward and grabbed the safety railing set before him and paused to recollect his thoughts and feelings on the matter of Mathilda. In the madness of melancholia, he couldn't feel genuinely put off with the woman's thinly-veiled threat. Lethargic and apathetic in his misery and sorrow, he dismissed the notion of exacting retribution and otherwise lashing out in favor of doing nothing. Both she and his question were too minuscule to exert the effort. "Bella," he murmured unceremoniously to the lethal gypsy, his tone negatively laced with the throes of despair. "Find me some pie." Lemon, apple, blueberry, it didn't matter; he needed some comfort food to feel better about himself and the world.

"Love me some pie."

Previously resigned to act as one of the silent minions that he'd brought along for the Ferry ride, Nox about choked on her own tongue when Roen ordered her off to search for...

"Pie?!" She sputtered, unsure whether to be offended or not by such a menial task as hunting up a piece of frickin' pie!

Spinning on her heel, she glared at the melancholy Devil. Almost instantly her ire turned to grudging sympathy. Poor Roen had not been himself of late. Since before the attack on Puerto Diablo even. And it had only gotten worse since his escape from the GPD in the middle of a tournament. A tournament that he had joined, fought in, then abandoned in favor of his freedom. Since then, Nox had seen him swing wildly from euphoric excitement to lethargic indifference before sinking into long periods of staring off into nothing. Where Mr. J had just been a bit whimsical before, now he seemed to be coming more than a little unhinged.

The irate glare melted reluctantly with a roll of her green eyes and a rueful quirk of her lips. Besides... With as crowded as the bow of the ferry was getting, The lanky Gypsy was almost greatful to be away. "Right... Pie." The tall Carpathian replied, her tone still a bit huffy. "Andt qvit callingk me Bella..." She mumbled half heatedly as she stalked away.

With that Nox slung her assault rifle back over her shoulder and set off in search of a cafeteria or galley or whatever the place with the food was called on a ferry. The task turned out not to be a hard one. All she really had to do was follow her nose to a rickety stand near the aft deck.

Though the stand did not instill much in the way of consumer confidence, the smell from the various foodstuffs being offered was certainly appetizing. Right about then, her own stomach gave a discontented rumble. It suddenly occurred to her that she had not eaten since very early that morning, herself. That being the case, Nox pushed her way toward the front of the milling crowd, gloved hands rising to grip the counter and hold her place.

"Yeah... Lemon Pie." She drawled after catching the Imp's attention. "The whole damn pie. Andt two forks."