There's a sound like splintering wood (or perhaps more like the splintering of dead vines, given the circumstances), before a teen tumbles through a section of the vines that was not, previously, covering up a hole in the wall. If one were to look now, the hole currently present is jagged and uncommonly dark, utterly black despite any ambient light that might be present. As the young woman flips through the air and lands with supernatural grace, the dust and vine-fragments which burst forth during her entrance reverse their course, tracing the same arcs back through the air before collapsing back into the hole, sealing it back up with a gentle whoosh as if nothing had happened.

"Where the hell did Crack send us this time..." the young woman mutters to herself, adjusting her red baseball cap and brushing nothing in particular off her vibrant green jacket.

The baseball cap seems to gently tug her head towards the cloaked figure eating at the table, prompting her to slowly back away.

The woman in black finishes her food, and then looks up—and suddenly freezes when she realizes that she's never before seen the only other alive occupant of the room. Her hand, the only part of her that moves, goes to her rapier, and then she's still.

Is that a sword? That looks like a sword. The young woman quickly raises her hands in a supplicating gesture, eyes subtly searching the space for an escape route.

"Sorry for barging in," she apologizes, half realizing that there may well be a language barrier as she speaks, "I didn't mean to...interrupt your meal?"

There are three hallways leading away from this room, plus a few smaller doors.

The woman eating doesn't seem to be less confused by these statements, but at least doesn't seem any more confused. She shakes her head and gives a lazy shrug, but keeps her hand on her sword and doesn't look away.

The younger woman nods slowly, before carefully approaching whichever of the hallways is closest to her current position, backing down it while still facing the sword-wielding figure. Once she can't see them anymore, she'll turn around and start flying down the hallways as quickly as the Outfit can carry her.

Where she will quickly run into another sword-wielding woman, this time in tight-fitting grey clothing. She draws her sword and holds it in a defensive posture.

"Who are you and how did you get here?" she asks calmly.

She has, apparently, fallen into the sword dimension. "I'm Mo, and I got into an argument with a friend and his Monster sent me here," she gestures vaguely, "wherever here is."

She wouldn't normally be especially afraid of swords, the Outfit's taken gunshots without a scratch before, but given that Crack is what sent them here, there's no telling who or what might have the punch of a Monster or Freak.

The Outfit rankles a bit, at the cowardice, but ultimately doesn't put up a fight. These people don't seem obviously important, living in this kind of a dump, so losing face here isn't that big a deal.

"You don't know where you are?" Camilla lowers her sword, slightly. "This is Canaan House, on the First. No one is supposed to—allowed to—be here except us and the priests."

Of course Crack would send them somewhere forbidden. "Nope. I don't even know what Canaan House is, or what 'the First' is the first of. I'm from Chicago, if you've heard of it."

"The First House of the Lord Undying, the Resurrector, et cetera, et cetera, the Necrolord Prime... And no, I haven't heard of Chicago—one of the Cohort planets?"

Mo is unable to stifle a giggle. 'Necrolord Prime' sounds like something her little brother would call himself in a game. "Ah, so we're talking planets. Chicago's just a city. the planet I'm from is Earth. A bit unimaginative, I know."

"Hmm. Okay, so you're mystery three. You said a—friend and his monster sent you here? A necromantic theorem of some kind, involving a construct?"

"Uh...I don't actually have any idea what Monsters are, or if they're even really, like, one kind of thing. I wouldn't call Crack-in-the-Wall, my friend's Monster, 'necromantic' exactly, though."

The Outfit tugs at Mo's arm, and she plays along, bowing a bit as the Outfit's hat doffs itself before finding its place on Mo's head again.

"The Outfit doesn't really strike me as undead either."

"...I also wouldn't characterize your outfit as undead, but I suppose I'd have to ask my necromancer. I need to go find the Ninth, will you come with me? Fair warning—if you decide to follow me around you'll antagonize the Second, but then again if you're not from a Cohort planet they'll already be antagonized."

Mo resigns to the fact that, apparently, fighting is probably going to happen eventually here. She can feel the Outfit's excitement through its jacket, like goose-bumps but on her clothing. "Sure, I guess, though it'll be awkward if the lady I just met is this 'Ninth'."

Mo will drop back down to her feet and walk like a normal person as she follows Camilla.

Camilla will start walking back in the direction Mo was coming from

"Dressed in all black, face painted like a skull, carries a sword?"

Mo sighs. "Yup."

"Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, they've been some of the more helpful contestants."

"Uh..." Mo is really not sure how to parse that. "That's good to know? I think I'm missing more than just a bit of context, though."

"I guess there's no harm in telling you things everyone else here knows. The people here are eight necromancers from the eight Houses, and their cavaliers, plus a bonus necromancer from the Third House, because they are twins and figured that meant they could bend the rules. We've been invited here to try to learn the secrets of Lyctorhood, except when we got here it became clear it was less 'learn' and more 'independent study of the place the last set of Lyctors ascended'—and then the murders started. Two of the contestants—the Fifth—are dead, two more—the Seventh—are missing, and an as of yet unknown dead body was found.

"I'm Camilla. Cavalier of the Sixth."

Mo sighs again. "It really is just like Crack to drop me into a mess like this. Where did it even find this place..." she mutters under her breath, before asking, "Sorry if this a dumb question, but what's a Lyctor? And I guess I should also ask what the actual deal is with your necromancy. I'm aware of the general idea but not the specifics."

"The Lyctors were the eight original necromancers who serve the Emperor. They're immortal, and much more powerful than a normal necro, but can be killed at great effort, and we're down to four. So they decided to send for candidates from the eight Houses to bolster their numbers.

"I'm not a necromancer and they can go into much more detail, but the basic summary is that they can perceive and manipulate thanergy, death energy, and thalergy, life energy. The energy can be used to animate bone, move flesh, speak to the dead, create wards and sensors that are sensitive to certain individuals, heal injuries, cure disease, manipulate embryos—is this too basic? I don't know what they teach on the Cohort planets, I know they don't throw any native necromancers."

Mo nods along. "I don't really think I need to know the high-level stuff, there's just a lot of things that people could decide to call 'necromancy'. The gist of thanergy and thalergy makes sense, though. It sounds pretty useful, though. I can see why necromancers are so important. What's the deal with being a cavalier, then? Is it just sort of a bodyguard thing or do you have your own magic?"

"One, necromancers are physically weaker than normal humans, so having a bodyguard is important, and two, necromancers can get a lot of power out of a single death, so in large scale combat we're flint and steel to a flame. And the role is traditional, it's much more prestigious—and permanent—than a generic aide plus bodyguard."