The Argonian nodded as she stared at the book, rather entranced and her milky eyes started to glow softly again. She read out the words - this time out loud, focusing not only just the words, but also listening carefully. As she spoke in tongues, words change from sounding like mere reading lines out loud to that of a rhythmic pattern; like chanting. She raised her hands upwards to shoulder-height  and dark purple flames flickered about her palms and fingertips.

The coffins below, sounded like a sea of drums, the departed banging and clawing desperately among the cries for help was so overwhelming for the Necromancer. To her the sounds were drowning out her own voice but she continued to read without skipping a beat and until she was finished. To the Dark Seducer and the other hidden Argonians, the only thing they could hear were the words she was reading.

Name: Sylgurd
Race/sex: Spriggan(?)
Homeland: Vallenwood
Vocation: Swordsman, Earth Tender.
Abilities - Animal Friendship, Detect Life, Controlled growth.

Physical appearance:
While immobile, Sylgurd appears to be little more then a corpse, whose armor and skeleton has been consumed by time and the tree whose roots wind and fill the interior of the metal and bone shell left to rot and return to nature. This is description however, not entirely false. Awakened, Sylgurd stands to the top of his branch's stands towering over most common folk (6'7") and bears the weight of both wood and metal with each step the miniature giant takes. Beneath the moss and corrosion of the bog and forest, the armor itself appears to have been of been forged from Ayleid steel and of an ancient design dating back to the second era. And, if one should look closely enough beneath the bark and roots, the flame licked skeleton of an elf is still trapped and woven within. Before their death, the man or woman would have been a giant among their people. Reanimated by a bizarre combination of natural and necromantic magics.
The creatures sword however appears to be a more modern(ish) Nordic design and bears the inscription: Sylgurd. Likely the name of it's previous owner, now dead and one with the forest in the endless cycle. The sapling warrior no doubt becoming interested with the word and adopting it as it's title.

Personality:
Sylgurd is surrounded by a nigh incorruptible sense of tranquility. In spite of having strength and durabilty like a great oak and the ability to break men and beasts alike with the ease of snapping twigs (typically wielding it's greatsword in a single root and bone hand), Sylgurd is slow to violence. Even after an enemy has taken several blows against him. It does not appear to have a desire to end the existence of other creatures, but does not fear doing doing so as it only adds to the life of everything around it. The fallen decomposing to join the stream of creation once again. However, it appears to have an aversion to fire beyond simply being a creature of wood. Sylgurd retains memories of it's previous life and is torn between reality and it's own nostalgia at times. The flame perhaps invoking a great fear of it's previous end as the scorch marks and blackened bones might suggest. With both it's current and past memories, Sylgurd prefers to interact with elves over most other species with humans being avoided when possible. However after life in the bog and forest, Argonians in particular are welcome and are typically seen as oversized intelligent reptiles to be cared and provided for. The tree finding the ability to tell them and other scaled creatures apart very difficult.

Bio/history:
[-To be added-]

"By my egg!" she exclaimed suddenly as she immediately placed a hand over her racing heart.

Nyra found herself jumping again from the booming voice in her mind. She had thought that she would be prepared but alas that was not the case. She furrowed her brows as she did as he instructed, fearful of the wrath which might await her if she didn't comply. All the while, she thought back at him, 'Champion? I am no champion. I am not strong enough. Talented, yes, but not strong. Your servant had no trouble in bringing me here. I am here because I am not a fool to deny the demands of a Deity - especially from one who already knows so much about me.' she replied as she flicked through the book, '... Death is disturbing. Not of this world. It is simply not right to let go of life. Any living being's primary instinct is to survive by any means necessary; so why should that be a struggle? Is it not man's dream to live forever? Be immortal? So, I in turn have learned the skills to truly make it possible by any means necessary and share that gift to others. I have yet to learn how to prolong my Holds upon the Re-Walking. to practice that upon myself some day... though I realize it would require me to become a Lich... a near-impossible feat to achieve. I suppose I will continue to pursue such a goal... or die trying.'

She paused for a moment, 'The voices are never silenced, one just needs to know how to listen.' she insisted, 'I have been around them for so long I can understand what they tell me once the become Re-Walking. When others hear groans, I hear words. When others hear silence, I hear tales of how their lives ended. Did you know that many here have had their lives cut short... truly an unjust tragedy. The volume of banging and screaming down there... it sounds like the drums of war.'

Finally she found the correct pages of Oblivion in the book, 'Create life from nothing? Is that a form of Conjuration?' she inquired.



((A/N: Is Nyra crazy? Or does she really have a gift? I'll leave that answer to you guys reading this. ))

Nyra's heart skipped a beat as she was helpless against the Daedra's might; having been dragged across the land to reach the graveyard. She bit her lower jaw when she witnessed the Dark Seducer's attacked people in her way, which really only made her feel all the more nervous. What had she gotten herself into? She barely said hello to another Argonian and now she felt like she was already in a whole heap of trouble. Again.

When they reached the graveyard, the mage hit the ground roughly but she didn't stand back up again - nor did she realize that the others were nearby. The Argonian stared at the ground in front of her, blinking only once since her arrival as she stretched out her fingers and smeared her hands with dirt; as if reaching out to the dead below. She felt completely different here now that she was in a place close to the dead in the silent graveyard; no longer meek like she was when she was around the living at the tavern.
"I can hear them breathing..." she murmured as she looked to the tomb stones one after the other before smearing the dirt to her face; her milky-blue eyes emitting a soft sky-blue glow in the dark, "I can hear them knocking on the wooden doors of their resting places... the young ones asking if they could go outside to play... the old ones complaining... the murdered screaming and banging against their doors..."

It took her a few minutes before her eyes stopped glowing and she remembered why she was here. The Argonian then promptly took out one of the Black Soul Gems she had carried with her, along with the book she happened to have that the Prince had asked of her. Nyra carefully placed them on the ground beside the Golden Saint's body and waited... perhaps he would speak to her again?

Korsy saw as the two left and then looked at the one that had asked him for the passphrase.
"I don't recognize you eggbrother, but that is hardly important right now," he whispered and then made a head gesture after the deadra and the mage, "what is important is figuring out why that deadra is here, wouldn't you agree?"
Regardless of the answer he started to follow the two from a far, keeping to the darkness and remaining as silent as he possibly could.