what strange claws are these scratching at my skin

Sinbyrn had seen members of a house cut down, in fact she'd participated in doing so herself. But she knew that she'd never achieved the same level of grace that was on display for her now. How one could be so vicious and so beautiful was beyond her, but Sinbyrn aspired to reach the level of the drider one day. It was an incredible honor to bear witness to Lloth's will in action like that. "My Lady, that was an impeccable display. I'm quite honored to have seen this message delivered firsthand. Thank you." Sinbyrn knew it wasn't for her, but for anyone who's loyalties wavered. The society they were heading towards had no room for weakness, and she too believed that rot was best cut out before it had a chance to spread. Hearing the pleading of her inferiors cut off by the retribution of a true devotee was a thrill Sinbyrn hoped she'd get to experience more. "To be at your level is a goal I shall achieve for myself. My devotions have always returned potent blessings, but I know that I must stretch my web even further still. Removing dissenters from our ranks is an important step, so I hope I get the chance to do so with your efficiency and skill. I am truly in awe."

Fresh from her devotions, Sinbryn wears the robes of a priestess instead of the armor of a general. She felt at ease after prayer, always finding great comfort in the Weaver's whispers. As she stepped from the darkened worship chamber and removed the hood of her cloak, Sinbyrn fell to her knees before a priestess who'd earned her reverence. As far as she was concerned, Nyloth was the soul individual at the helm of their society. A Queen in her own right, the two fools who shared her title would never receive an ounce of the respect Sinbyrn showed her. "Mother, I do hope you remain pleased with all my efforts at Court. It is through your instruction that I remain my best and feel empowered to strive for further perfection." Sinbyrn would never place the comfort of Lloth's web beneath another's, but the one Nyloth cast was its own comfort here at Court. She endeavored to remain worthy of the Matron's shadow. "My prayers have been much more potent now that our worship spaces have been purified. I'm so incredibly grateful that the subpar priests have been expelled from our ranks."

As one forever invested in garnering power in all its forms, Sinbryn hoped to establish a militant unit loyal to her leadership. The sooner she could demonstrate how able she was the sooner she could continue her climb to the highest echelon of her society. For a while, she thought that would look like an army of dark sisters who shared her devotion but now she was unsure. If strength could be found in those considerably further beneath her, then should she discount them purely for their lowliness? Naturally, that wonder didn't extend to the Inquisitor, but his work could yield positive results at the very least. "I've had curious thoughts recently and I want to hear your opinions. Surprisingly, you have insight on this subject that I may not," she started, not making any attempt to hide the disdain she felt for having to ask Somniar anything. "The Illthids, would they make good additions to a militant force? As more than fodder, I'd rather command a force comprised solely of capable individuals."

There was a time when Sinbyrn's felt envy of the former priest. How embarrassing, how foolish, though not entirely surprising given the backward decisions that led to his ascent. Favored by the Queen, Sinbyrn had watched Severon benefit in ways she knew he was undeserving of, and now? The Queen was dead and cast down like the useless elve he was. Now the true devotions of Lloth could be carried out and Sinbyrn had a jester to laugh at whenever their paths crossed. "It is good to see you keeping busy. At least, you appear to be so. I've always found your toys to be so amusing, but are you sure you possess the capacity for instruction?" She never thought so. During their brief shared time in the clergy, Sinbryn can't recall a single time she sought out Severon for instruction. She doubted there was anything of value he could offer her, but she was quite good at forcing anyone to be useful one way or another. Even the lowest in their society. "You should consider working at my personal behest. You'd be well cared for and well used. A few decades performing under my instruction and all memory of your shortcomings will be erased. I can even petition the Triumvirate to make it official."

Sinbyrn stands before one of the dark creatures, admiring the wild way it bucks against its bindings due to her presence. She'd prefer one that had an unruly spirit with enough strength to slaughter foes on its own, one that only bent its head for her. Of course, she had practiced no particular taming skill during her years being trained by the priesthood and still saw no real value in the practice. However, she was also not going to entirely remove herself from the selection process of her mount. "You responded so promptly to my summons. I'm impressed," she patronizes, viewing Amadeus' talent for beasts and his very presence was beneath her. "I do believe a dedicated mount will suit me, and I want to not only make the best selection but bring them to heal myself." This time when the nearby beast lunges again, Sinbyrn is quick to cast a sharp web of shadows, lashing the beast cruelly until pulls from her. Only then does she approach, petting it now that it understands that it should only look upon her in fear. "This one is no good, but you'll work with me to find one of suitable status for me. I want to look regal as I lead my unit into the Otherwilds."

Sinbyrn knew the best way to demonstrate her worship was to use the strength the Weaver graced her with. She refused to let her battle sense grow dull, which meant giving equal attention to her devotions and her swordplay. Her dark sister hissed in delight as she stood amongst the warriors she'd wounded while sparring. Sinbyrn hoped they'd provide at least a little challenge, but even as tens of them charged her like she commanded, she barely expended any effort when she struck each of them down. "I do hope these were of the newer regiments you're training. Because if they represent your acadamy's standards, I weep for the future of the Court," she says, turning her attention to the direction of the steady footsteps. Sinbyrn stands proudly amongst her devastation, hoping he caught at least a portion of the bout. She wanted the entire Triumvirate to know that she was a cut above. "There must be someone available who has suitable power to train with me. I would hate for my blade to dull from constantly clashing with inferiority. I require a higher caliber of partner."

Some may have thought the savage work of fighting the Otherworld was beneath a priestess, but Sinbyrn enjoyed the work. A sword went dull and impotent without fresh blood, and she understood the sentiment. She refused to become like the elders of the priesthood, content to play with shadows behind closed doors. Sinbyrn would always accept opportunities to lead a unit of warriors into the dark, however she'd continuously long for footsoldiers who were more of her caliber. "It was a successful campaign. Beasts nearest the Underdark were all dispatched. I was thorough and expect that our borders will have a short time of reprieve before more beasts return," Sinbyrn reports to the triumvir with measured tact instead of true reverence. In her eyes, she had nothing to answer to him for but maintained a respectful demeanor as well. "Once I again, I insist only capable warriors to be assigned to the units I lead. I have no patience for weak links." Unsurprisingly, the only casualties she had to report were males just as the last three times she ventured out. She had nothing to say on this burgeoning trend of hers.