It was always an interesting experience to go out into the crowds. Their lifeforce's all mixing together to form a mass of different colors, changing based on their emotions. Rhian made her way through the sea of ever changing color, her guardian right behind her."Ah, Zek I wish you could see this. The colors, the changes! That man is angry, that man is afraid. That woman is suspicious, and that merchant is happy. They all have their base colors, and they are all constantly having minor changes. It's really quite beautiful." As expected Zek gave no reply, verbal or otherwise. Still, she talked to him like he could respond and he hadn't yet given any indication that he wished she would stop. 

"All these customers and merchants will leave this place, and go back to their families, not a care in the world for those left behind. The orphans and the plagued. The criminals and the homeless. And some of those left behind won't see the morning. They'll starve or die of thirst over night, or be killed for what little they have...or trying to steal from others more fortunate. The remaining ones are carved into three groups. Those who join gangs, the 'boss', Lady Z, Bloodthirst, and all the rest. Those who strike out for themselves, and try to survive all by their lonesome. And those who join us. Those precious few Damned who accept my nameless Gods and I." She smiled to herself as they slowly made their way through the crowd.

"Each of the three groups look after their own, but we can at least honestly say we don't actively try to gain more power or take on other gangs. We're happy to do what we can, try to make our 'territory' better for ourselves. We try to keep to ourselves. Sometimes, however, the others forget that just because we don't actively seek violence and try to avoid it, that we will not defend ourselves. Then we must remind them why it is not a good idea to fight with the damned. We've gotten better at it since you and the others joined. You know, the ex-mercenary, the former guardsman, and quite the number of former thugs." It was true. Ever since her flock had gotten someone besides Zek who had a decent amount of experience fighting, most of them had sought lessons. They were slowly becoming more adept at defending themselves. Requiring Rhian to get involved in the occasional fighting less and less.

A familiar, large, clashing lifeforce caught her attention, leading a horse with him. "Speaking of thugs." Rhian muttered, halting as Strogobor drew closer. After they had first met, Rhian had made it a minor point to keep an eye on the giant of a man. It was rare to find such a...contradictory lifeforce, and it interested her. As Strogobor stopped, she smiled at him before greeting him warmly. Her image of friendliness was slightly offset by Zek stopping a step behind Rhian, a hand on the hilt of his mace. "Strogobor. It's been a long while. I believe the last time we met you were explaining to me, as I healed your minor injuries, why you were the cause of three broken jaws, four broken ribs, eight cracked ribs, one broken femur, two shattered kneecaps, and five cracked skulls. What can I do for you now?"