Blood splattered upon the ground, painting the snow a gentle crimson. Sister Friede stood, motionless, and she buried her scythe deep into the man before her; his sword clattering to the frozen stone. However, Friede was not expecting the stranger, hidden, and observing. A sound from their direction stirred he'd attention. "Ashen One, I know not the missteps which led thee to this Painted World. But thy duty is all, and thy duty lieth elsewhere. Return from whence thou cam'st." She murmured softly, unsheathing her scythe from the man, as she cautiously kept her distance from the stranger before her.