Jason didn't need to give his name for Flynt to decipher who he is or what he is. His "friendly" shoulder touch was all the information that Flynt needed. But a proper introduction is what separates man from beast so Jason gave them his name and asks them if they know who he is. "Dead hand's accurate. You're a necromancer. A dying sect of magic unfortunately." Flynt explains in his croaky voice.

"Ahh. So [i]truly[/i] a dead man walking." Thomas lightly jokes.

"Aren't we all?" Flynt adds.

"A grim outlook, but one that's not entirely inaccurate given the state of our sorry world." Thomas turns to Jason. "But yes, I do recall you've a part in this little expedition. Lady Fate has been kind to me today. Or is it Lady Luck? You'll have to forgive me. I'm a foreigner to these parts and am not well-versed in the terminology used here." Thomas explains.

"You're a Sillan." Flynt discerns.

"Correct you are, my good man. What gave it away?"

"Nothing. I've been around. Tell me, Sillan. Do you still speak the Old Tongue?"

"Assac ela dora. (You tell me.)"

"Kafka ta laga set. (Another language still lives.)" Before the conversation between the two men could continue any further, an old man interrupts; one that Flynt knows and has much admiration for. A grizzled veteran mage by the name of Reginald Dubois. The typical life span of a mage nowadays is somewhere between 25 to 35 years of age so while Flynt is considered "old" in mages' terms, Reginald is practically a relic. Reginald tips his hat to Flynt who returns the acknowledgement before he introduces himself and his purpose to Thomas.

"Tallahsa! (Wonderful!) Mister Dubois, it is a pleasure to have you accompany us. Dear bartender, a round of sparkling water for all of us, if you please." Thomas orders for the small party of four.

Flynt leans against the counter besides Reginald. "Good to see you, Longbeard. How's the gout? Not that walking's your preferred method of travel."

"Ahh, gentlemen, I'm afraid I must bid farewell to all of you for now. We will meet at the border of the Helscape in two days. I would advise getting well and rested in the next couple of days." Thomas states.

"Don't have to tell me. Getting here already drained my spirit what with that sandstorm and all." Flynt explains. Thomas then left the tavern leaving the three mages to their own accord. Flynt finishes his sparkling water and left a tip on the counter in the form of a copper coin. "I'm afraid catching up will have to wait, Longbeard. A bed calls me. And perhaps a warm body to lie next to." Flynt tips his hat to both mages. "Longbeard. Jason." He then leaves to retire for the day.

[center]-Two Days Later-[/center]

A cockroach scurries across the arid desert ground in search of shade from the blistering heat—heat not from the sun but from the wind that carries along with it hot ash and sparks from the Helscape. The cockroach: in many ways a perfect analogy for the human race. Numerous and resilient in the face of all odds. A sand-colored gecko pops up from underground and, in an instant, devours the cockroach. Flynt rides his steed southbound to the border between the Living Lands and the Helscape. Already, signs of the demonic scourge's influence on the world can be seen all around Flynt. He'll be there within the hour. Flynt spent the last two days restocking on supplies, most especially, ammunition. It's as important as water when traveling into the Helscape. He also purchased a small pouch of dried, candied Soulthorne petals from a specialty mage store. He'll need it in a pinch.

An hour passes and, as predicted, he's finally here at the outskirts. The land a mile out towards the horizon is nothing but scorched earth and rivers of lava. The band of surveyors are here, waiting for their escorts. They consist of Thomas Essex—the Sillan man from two days ago—a dark-skinned Ancient by the name of Ludo Greene, and a red-haired female dwarf named Jane Wrathebone. "Flynt, my good man! First to show up as always." Thomas greets the mage.

"Tom." Flynt acknowledges while also tipping his hat to the other two before getting off his horse. "Ride back to camp." Flynt tells his horse before placing it under a mind control spell. The horse gallops off northward.

"Your steed not coming with?" Ludo, the Ancient, inquires in a deep, bellowing voice.

"I rather like my horse. Prefer it living." Flynt responds.

"Allow me to introduce my colleagues. Ludo Greene is the Ancient fellow and this small beauty here is Miss Jane Wrathebone. This is Arryn Flynt." Thomas introduces everyone.

"Ey, yer flatter me, Tom. Beauty, I cannot claim. It is good to have ye with us, Mister Flynt." Jane says.

"Just Flynt'll do. I think you're lovely, Miss Jane." Flynt states.

"Thank ye, Flynt. Then just Jane'll do."