#zeratheinvisible

“Usually it does. Most people think zombies and skeletons and think that we are somehow violating the sanctity of the dead by taking away their ability to be resurrected. Nevermind that one: resurrection is a form of necromancy in the first place and two: true resurrection is insanely uncommon.”

He laughs, “If anything, necromancy, when applied in the right ways, can be more effective than an actual army of living people. They don’t feel pain or fear, you don’t have to feed them, they usually don’t have families to mourn them. But no. People would much rather fight and die than let the dead do the work for them.”

Also said: 

“Sorry if that last question was boring, but I kind of guess you to be the type who knows at least two other languages. - Alright. Did you ever completely and consequently refuse a job or order in this castle?“

I speak pieces of quite a few languages. Common, is obviously my first tongue, infernal my second because gods forbid I neglect my tiefling heritage while Herzgo is in earshot. I’m more than a little rusty with it though. I can read elvish, dwarvish, and arcana. I’m conversational in undercommon and I know enough to understand the language of the dead.

Wow... I rambled. oops.

 As for the disobedience... I don’t think so? I-

No wait I did. Gonna try reeealll hard to write sober for this one.

I had been tasked to kill the child of a female prisoner shortly after she gave birth to it as a way to emotionally break her and prime her to be raised as a ghost. I refused, flat out. Draygo was fetched, I was chewed out by several people, and still I refused. 

They wanted me to- to go through the process slowly. Poison the child but not the mother. Make it sicker and sicker over time. It was so bleak and hopeless. I couldn’t do it.

Draygo had my head for it. I spent days in his office getting reprimanded for disobedience, was denied access to the few resources they let me have at sixteen. I was called every name in the book by my superiors and peers.

My father, it seemed, was the only one that refused to get in on it. Well, him and the clerics. Regardless it was... hellish. The worst part of it is that Draygo simply got someone else to do it. I prevented nothing.

Ugh.

Effron wanders the hallways, leaning against walls and trying not to trip over his own feet anymore than he usually does. Which turns out to be a task in and of itself. He makes his way to the larder, fishing out a bottle of wine from the back of the cellar, one no one would miss. The warlock judiciously decides that opening the bottle could wait until he gets back to his room. 

Effron takes his way back to the room carefully, weaving around guards and avoiding being spotted drunk and still drinking at such an early hour. He stops, leaning against a wall when his head swims. A few deep breaths and he’s ready to go again, but he hesitates when shadows break the candlelight.

((OOC: heh, thanks~ I might fiddle around with Sith Apprentice!Effron a little more in the future. Happy New Year to you too, Zera. And all my other followers!))

--

Dear Dr. Who,

I don’t know very much about you. When I try to do research, I can only find references; aside, notes, bridges in bard songs, but all of them only mention you. It’s very strange.

I will say though. Can you please, PLEASE stop leaving your things in Lord Quick’s Vault? Between the dwarf statue and all those shenanigans last year I’ve had to retake inventory four times and every time I find new things I cannot explain.

Last time there was this giant blue, box-like thing. It took up so much space and some young woman in strange clothing told me it was bigger on the inside. Which I don’t even want to think about. Bags of holding are enough of a problem, but this thing was taller than I was.

Please, for the sake of my sanity: cease and desist. And remove your extra-dimensional box and assistant. I cannot actually let her into the castle proper.

Effron laughs and casts a sidelong look at Nashira. “I suppose you’re right...” he admits, remembering all the times the cat made a bed of his notes. 

Effron nods, listing to the side a bit with the motion. “That is... very possible.” He hiccups and then scowls at nothing in particular waiting for another one. “But you never know. I took the fall for it regardless and it was... a while ago. I try not to touch those spirtsh” a pause to collect himself, “Spirits anymore.”