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[GiglameshDespair]

"It is ztill ztrange to be among zo many others. Zhose I met in the North I killed."

[Dwarmin]

"You did spend much time alone, didn't you? I have done this myself-spent long periods apart from humanity...there is peace to be drawn from isolation, but too much is unhealthy. One should not spurn...proper company. So few are worthy of knowing, however..." Osirio comments.

[Nerjin]

"Dying might not be on her list of things to do actually. I have heard tales of a way to avoid death during my previous life. It comes at a great cost but great power can be yours if only you are willing to grab it."

[Dwarmin]

"I suppose you turn yourself into an Emilye, sure." Osirio says, lapsing into his native Elvish to use the rare word that he doesn't know in common.

[Nerjin]

"Hm... I've not heard of that. You'd be surprised at how many ways you could turn yourself undead and keep your mind and power. Liches, Vampires, and Necropolitans are just a few of them. I must admit... The idea has crossed my mind before. But I don't know if I'd want to live forever."

[lawastooshort]

"Too right, good Priest - many a Bad Tale did we used to tell in the burrows of the cursed Vampire-Gnomes, mad with sorrow at living forever when they realised that all else passed them by. The only way to hold onto loved ones to curse them too. Cast out by all once they wonder why you live across the generations. Shunned by your once beloved badger. Animals have a keener sense of this than most, and terrified would shun even those glanced at by the lifeless fiend. Aye - lifeless, cos if you can't bloody die, how do you know you live? Like in the old pomes about being immortal through sorrow, cos some lovelorn fecker knows no longer that he lives..." 

[Dwarmin]

"An Emilye is a sort of Dead King that reside in places like my homeland-they remove all the organs upon natural death, and wrap them in funeral silks-the resulting...creature...is preserved remarkably well in the dry climate, and necromantic magics. They have powerful energies of their own, and are rumored to be able to turn a man to dust with a single touch...ah, thousands of years, these shambling monsters still plague the Bonedrifts (it is not a named that for no reason), blind Kings ruling over imaginary empires they lost millennium ago. They are pathetic things, truly. I personally would not wish a thing-I do have my own plans for averting the final hour, naturally...

For it seems to me, Mr. Culpa, eternal life does not equal eternal youth. Eventually, your mortal mind would run mad-it would cease to be your own, even if could hold on to it a remarkably long time. Not that he is against this, mind you. Wee Jas is a benevolent Goddess who teaches us that while death is our ultimate destination, their is no limit to how we may attempt to evade her grasp-either physical or moral. Her only edict is that undeath never be inflicted against the will of the owner-those who create slaves attempt to usurp the power of death, are anathema to her."

He turns to Culpa with a glint in his grey eyes.

"If your thoughts ever turn from fancy to action, Mr. Culpa, you should speak to me. Many powerful undead Lords serve as the Jasidin, retaining their minds and free will, and even serving the forces of Law and Order-and they could help you in this regard."

[Nerjin]

"Perhaps. Perhaps. For now, though, I think it might be best for the lot of us to avoid such fates. Though I had never heard off Wee Jas being particularly fond of those who attempt to avoid her grasp. I was under the impression that she loathed all undead. I must admit I've never looked particularly deeply at Wee Jas."

[Dwarmin]

"It is a common mistake-you can imagine we do not advertise such a thing too openly due to misconceptions it brings." Osirio lectures. "Wee Jas is the Lawful Guardian of the Dead-those who practice Necromancy while following the Laws of the land-no murder, senseless destruction, or unjust slavery-are completely free of sin in her eyes. She encourages us to learn these ways of the Arcane and use that power to better ourselves. She offers sweet rest for those that do perish, but teaches us that death is not something to be encouraged or longed for...only accepted and understood. Ultimately, Wee Jas would have us create a Paradise where no one died unless they wished too-she is two faces, you see? She is the Goddess of Death, but loves life.

You are correct otherwise, however-unnatural undead, and those created against their will, are abominations to her. She is as much an enemy to them as any other God, and instructs us to put them to the torch and end their suffering when we can."

[Nerjin]

"I don't know. It seems to me that dead is dead. Though I can certainly see how she might feel otherwise." Culpa took this moment to sit down and relax. He briefly thought about taking off his armor but thought better of it after peering over at the knights.

[Dwarmin]

"You know, Mr. Culpa, I am still interested of hearing about your God, Hex-tor. You are his cleric, but you speak little to us about him. Is it merely humility?"

[Nerjin]

Culpa suddenly found the ground a little too hard and shifted for a few moments before answering "I am what you might call a Reformed Sinner. I used to serve his brother. Hextor saved me from a situation involving some orcs while I was attempting to thwart some of his worshippers. He sent a woman to save me when his brother abandoned me to die. Likely eaten alive by the savages. She released me from my bonds. Then Hextor spoke to me. The woman... perished in the attempts of saving me. Bludgeoned to death by a rock while her back was turned. Since then I have attempted to become worthy of spreading his name. As of yet I am not quite there yet."

[GiglameshDespair]

"Living forever? I vould not care, as long as I could fight."

The Voice had told her of lichdom. It seemed it wanted her to go that route, in the end, and it didn't seem so bad. Eternally seeking battle, untiring and endless. Maybe. Ava had no real fear of death, and no great longing for eternal life. Still, one needed a lot of materials for lichdom. More than she'd ever get raiding meat-wagons, certainly.

She considered it further. "To fight forever vould be no bad vhing."

She listened to Culpa and shook her head.
"Do not beg for scraps from your god, priest. Take power and proclaim your master's name vith blood. I do not ask from my god. I demand. And I am ztrong."

[Nerjin]

"Strong. But perhaps not that wise." Culpa said in a quiet tone that might have been anger "The gods could crush any of us in an instant. It is not our place to demand things of them. We serve the gods. Not the other way around."

[GiglameshDespair]

"Hmmph. Your old god could not zave you from Orcs. Your new god could not save you vithout losing zhier servant."

She shifted, the heavy head of her long hammer grinding on the stone.

"Could or vould - it matters not vhich if it vas not done. Vhat makes you zhink your new god vill not abandon you like your old vun?"