Merchant Of Death?

[*Serena]

Scene: Rag Pickers Square Hive Ward

Rhistel arrives.  He is passed by two robed Dustman dragging an empty though less foul smelling corpse cart into The Hive.  Waiting for him on the small bridge to The Mortuary stands Cassandra.  A black cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a hood pulled up against the elements make her look like one of The Mourners one would expect here.

Behind them a robed Dustman and a ghoul leave the Mortuary.  The Ghoul seems to stop in its tracks and stare.

She took my words quite literally, I see...

This was his first thought seeing the slightly familiar figure wrapped in her cloak just like himself and waiting for him among the busy Dustmen.
Wrong choice? Maybe. He had no time to complain, anyway, so he proceeded to walk toward the woman, scanning his surroundings with True Seeing as long as the spell allowed him.

"Mourn for me, Sister, and let me mourn for you," he states in a low, calm tone as he approaches the woman, only a hint of sarcasm barely noticeable in his words as he politely offers her his arm. "I hope it is not too late."
It is in that moment that he notices the ghoul staring at them.
He returns the gaze for a long moment, apparently unconcerned, trying to understand whether there is self-awareness in the undead eyes, as well as deliberation in his stare.

[*DigitalDragoon]

Scene: The Weary Spirit
After examining the body Quinn's knowledge of both magic and medicine would tell him that the man they have has undergone a ritual before death.  The purpose of it would be to harvest his soul and divert it from the outer plane it was destined for upon death.

Withdrawing from the examination as soon as the revelation clicks, He pulls off the gloves he had been using to examine the body, allowing them to lay where they land. Moving to the farthest corner of the sectioned off space, back to the body, he folds his jittery fingers over his mouth and nose. A few murmured prayers escaping his lips between shaking breaths.

A long few moments pass like this before his hands slide down to grasp desperately for his religious amulet. Fingers working themselves into the symbol's details before he finally speaks up. "..His soul has been taken."

[*Nimiane]

Scene: The Weary Spirit
After examining the body Quinn's knowledge of both magic and medicine would tell him that the man they have has undergone a ritual before death.  The purpose of it would be to harvest his soul and divert it from the outer plane it was destined for upon death.

Withdrawing from the examination as soon as the revelation clicks, He pulls off the gloves he had been using to examine the body, allowing them to lay where they land. Moving to the farthest corner of the sectioned off space, back to the body, he folds his jittery fingers over his mouth and nose. A few murmured prayers escaping his lips between shaking breaths.

A long few moments pass like this before his hands slide down to grasp desperately for his religious amulet. Fingers working themselves into the symbol's details before he finally speaks up. "..His soul has been taken."

"I assumed as much," breathed the bardess in begrudging acceptance; a sooty, bloodied hand pulling down her face as she pressed off the wall with a booted heel. The quiet grind of good teeth clenched the woman's jaw, yet beyond the darkened expression that had seeped into the ocean-themed hue of her eyes she offered no insight into her thoughts as she approached the body. "I'm sorreh," an apologetic murmur is directed at the unsettled mage with a slow shake of the woman's cowled head, unable to place a comforting hand on the man's shoulder in his retreated distance. "There's nae a thing we can do fer him now."

Efficient as always, Odette took a moment to glance in Krystelle's directionand see how the portrait was progressing, before her attention turned once more on the corpse's tattoo to continue in a soft but gritty tone. "Nero. Please see that Quinn is offered tea." states the bardess, her directness a quiet betrayal of emotion repressed for the sake of circumstance. "I'll wrap him up an' see that the Dusties get a special delivery after I drop past the bordello."

Without a word the woman turned strode from the room, a small clasp on Quinn's shoulder in brief passing spoke her apology and console. It did not take the bardess long to return, and when she did it was with several worn blankets and a length of rope. Provided the lilac lady had finished her sketch, the bardess waves off any offered aid and makes reasonably quick work of shifting, lifting, grunting and rolling the body into the layers of blanket; sectioning off specific areas with the length of rope at ankles, arms pinned to waist, and neck.

Pulling up her mask once more, the body is hoisted upward and carried by Odette to the House of Six-Fingers in the Hive ward.

[*LadyLightning]

Krystelle's sketch wouldn't have taken too long to complete, and by the time Odette is ready to depart, she would be handed a torn-out sketchbook page, bearing a quite exacting likeness of the corpse's face.