Oonel opens meetings, stave at her side, silencing murmurings with the echoing thunder of the butt of the bone standard pounding against the ground. Interfactionary discussion between the Contagion and Rotwhisper rarely end without heated words and raised hackles, energy all but cracking in the area, though Oonel takes pride in the practised ease that comes to her when she makes her way to the center of the hall.

The floor is familiar beneath her feet, claws clacking against the dry stone, and she picks out the scents of her Order with ease. Heat emmanates from Grast, flame roiling within her ashen scales, and leaves her impossible to ignore, even without sight. She hears Kylara's toes tap against the ground, uncertain in these formal settings, and the soft shuffling of Nereidel's familiar as they preen their ragged wings. The rest are their guests are harder to pick out, though it feels as though rot magic simply radiates from their speaker, her measured tones doing little to diminish how intimidating they are.

Oonel stands, proud, between the two groups. Her claws wrap around the standard once again, a secondary tap, feeling magic flow through the meticulously drawn sigils of the meeting hall, calling upon the mother of plague to oversee their words, and she speaks.

"We begin!"


--

Oonel disappointed in her trials and was offered little sympathy from her clan for her troubles. Though she proved resolute, withstanding the ravages of her self-inflicted plague, the Wyrmwound's pestilience burning her veins in a way that left her unworthy, she had branded herself with the greatest insult of all with her colours: weak, wraith.

Life was hard going for Oonel, her sight greatly diminished by her brush with death and her purpose stolen from her, though she eeked out a meager existence in the undergrowth of the Hellwell. She was intimidating enough to be a convicing guard, though such work was merely a bluff of size and she was not particularly well-trained in combat. A life of tedious monotony was generally the best that most wraiths could aspire to. For some, they attract the attention of necromancers, intriguied by the unique ways they're theorised to act as cataylsts for rot - as was the case for Oonel, later finding herself as a member of Grast's enterouge.

She primarily acts as a diplomatic presence for the Contagion.