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An old man visits the the Triumvirate. His face is dour and wrinkled.
At first glance, he may look to be a farmer-turned-militia-man. He carries a scythe strapped to his back and his clothes are simple. But the glint of steel under his shirt sleeves says otherwise, as does the long scar on his jaw. The old man has seen many battles and lived to tell about them.
He speaks with Melchoir briefly:
"Undead," he says with clear disdain. "I will deal with it. Abominations of necromancy have no place in this world or the next.
"I have equally grave concerns for the people of this city, Sir Melchoir. I see such misuse of ungodly magic, and there is no one to speak against it. The people believe wizardry serves them in this world, but it dooms them in the next. Arrogance bears a heavy price, and I fear for the fate of their souls."
The old man then returns to the original discussion. "Should you require more help with these necrotic monstrosities, you need only ask."
He gives Melchoir a deep bow then leaves the temple quietly.
At first glance, he may look to be a farmer-turned-militia-man. He carries a scythe strapped to his back and his clothes are simple. But the glint of steel under his shirt sleeves says otherwise, as does the long scar on his jaw. The old man has seen many battles and lived to tell about them.
He speaks with Melchoir briefly:
"Undead," he says with clear disdain. "I will deal with it. Abominations of necromancy have no place in this world or the next.
"I have equally grave concerns for the people of this city, Sir Melchoir. I see such misuse of ungodly magic, and there is no one to speak against it. The people believe wizardry serves them in this world, but it dooms them in the next. Arrogance bears a heavy price, and I fear for the fate of their souls."
The old man then returns to the original discussion. "Should you require more help with these necrotic monstrosities, you need only ask."
He gives Melchoir a deep bow then leaves the temple quietly.