Edit - This Interview was expanded with some questions originally removed to not bring controversy amongst the clergy of our allies Kelemvorites, but now that our Guild polices where updated, we can release the edited parts of this fascinating interview. 

Interview with A Necromancer - by Thrain Stonequill

Thrain: "What's your full name?"

Lawrenne: "Names are powerfull, suffice yourself to call me Lawrenne Lycanther."

Thrain: "What's your age?"

Lawrenne: "My age? you don't ask that question to a woman, you impudent scoundrel.*

Thrain: "Why Kelemvorites call you 'The Heretic'?"

Lawrenne: "My fellow Kelemvorites don't understand that Kelemvor, as the new god of the dead, is also the god of the undead. His shuning to the unlife it's because the way undead are normally made, without the consent of the former owners. Servants of Jergal, the scriber of the underworld, already raised the dead by agreeing with the corpses former owners the permission to do so, I'm merely copying this practice. The fact that Kelemvor didn't take away my powers is proof that I'm right, and my fellow clergy are not."

Thrain: "Hm, so you make an agreement to the former corpses owners, meaning the souls of the dead, to use their corpses, right?"

Lawrenne: "That's correct."

Thrain: "These three er.. zombies, were risen like that?"

Lawrenne: "Yes."

Thrain: "Don't you think using them as a throne is, like, abusing the contract?"

Lawrenne: "Pft, uneducated bard. They agreed to have me as their master, so nothing I do is an abuse of contract, but maybe an abuse of my Jailor's will."

Thrain: "Jailor?"

Lawrenne: "Yes, Kelemvor."

Thrain: "I see, Are you prisioner of Myrkulites cultists right now, is this correct?"

Lawrenne: "Temporarily, yes."

Thrain: "You plan to escape? What they want from you?"

Lawrenne: "As you know, I was a former Myrkulite myself, and a powerfull one on that. With Myrkul's demise by the hands of Kelemvor, I was besieged by Kelemvorites paladins. To survive, I pledged loyalty to Kelemvor, at first to buy time and betray them, but then I started to grasp that the new Lord of the Dead is more of my liking, more predictable and orderly, you know? Anyway, I was recently slain and these Myrkulites took hold of my corpse and raised me, for me, once again, serve their dead deity, Mirkul. They don't know, but I noticed Kelemvor didn't abandoned me, so I'm raising an army of undead under their noses. The fools think it's the will of Myrkul and they completely trust me now. I'll use this army to slay each and every one of them, turn their corpses to ashes, so they can't easely come back again. These deranged lunatics have no place on this plane anymore. Let be me the one who sent them to their dead master."

Thrain: "Wow, intense! Do you dabble in arcane arts too?" 

Lawrenne: "Dabble? You simpleton, I master the arcane arts!"

Thrain: "Apologies, but this would not explain how you raise the dead? Maybe you use your arcane arts to bypass Kelemvor's will to not proliferate the undead?"

Lawrenne: "How dare you, abject rodent! Do you want to test it? I can slay you with my arcane arts and speak with your soul through Kelemvor and bargain your comeback after your corpse serve me, how about that you oaf?"

Thrain: "I'm deeply sorry! Please don't kill me."

Lawrenne: "Grovel."

Thrain: "Please, please, don't kill me! I'm deeply sorry to ever doubt your faith."

Lawrenne: "Kiss my boots."

(This guild judged that our member's ordeal is not usefull to this interview. Suffice to say, dear reader, that our member survived the Herectic gauntlet and returned - broken and weak willed, but returned to report his experience.)

*Note from the editor: as she was infamous to be a cleric of Myrkull - the former god of the dead - way before the Age of Troubles, we calculate she has about 84 years old!

Now the edited part of the interview:

 

Thrain: "So, lady Lycanther, beyond your current situation and immediate survival, what do you ultimately hope to achieve?"

Lawrenne: "You speak of hopes and achievements as if life itself is something more than a fleeting flicker in the vastness of existence. Life, in all its mundanity, is meaningless. The notion that one must find or create meaning is merely a balm for the mortal soul, a way to endure the inevitable. I, however, have long discarded such illusions. I am but a tool in the hands of the gods of death."

Thrain: "A tool?"

Lawrenne: "Indeed, a tool—nothing more, nothing less. The gods of death after Jergal, Bane, Bhaal, Myrkul and Kelemvor, have all been flawed, unable to comprehend that they are no longer of the mortal coil. They have no place to impose their mortal judgments upon death’s domain. Myrkul, in his folly, believed death to be cruelty, something to be feared and avoided. Kelemvor, in his misguided righteousness, sees death as the final stop in a mortal's journey, shackling it to laws meant for the living."

Thrain: "And you disagree?"

Lawrenne: "Of course I do, you simpleton. Death is not something to be feared, nor should it be restricted. It is as much a part of the world as life itself. The undead are a natural extension of this cycle. If the gods allow an undead creature to persist, then it serves a purpose. Take, for example, a deceased farmer who wishes for his corpse to continue tilling the fields for his family—why should that be denied? It is the duty of the gods of death to understand this, yet they falter. As former mortals, they are susceptible to failures, blinded by the remnants of their humanity."

Thrain: "That’s… quite a perspective. What about your long-term goals? Do you seek to reclaim your lost power, perhaps even reshape the church of Kelemvor in your image?"

Lawrenne: "Thread carefully on your words, bard. I'm not your equal.... Power... Yes, I do intend to regain what was lost, but not by the means tainted by Myrkul’s influence. The path I once walked, seeking lichdom, was a desperate and flawed attempt to extend my existence. Lichdom, as commonly understood, is a polluted state—a descent into madness as the mind decays. I sought something more refined, more pure—Archlichdom."

Thrain: "Archlichdom?"

Lawrenne: "Yes, you may have heard tales of it, though they are likely beyond your comprehension. Archlichdom is a path of preservation, one where the mind remains intact, free of the decay that plagues lesser liches. It is the proper way for one to continue serving the world, even beyond death. And as for reshaping Kelemvor's church... Politics, mortal politics, are a nuisance, but necessary. Kelemvor must come to understand his true role as the Lord of Death. He is no longer a mere paladin; he embodies death itself. To shun the undead is to neglect a vital aspect of his domain. If he continues on this path, he will leave the door wide open for corruption—by the likes of Cyric, no less—leading to catastrophic consequences."

Thrain: "You would counsel Kelemvor?"

Lawrenne: "Counsel? No, I would enlighten him. It is not a matter of guidance but of awakening. Kelemvor must see that the undead are not abominations but part of the balance. To neglect this is to betray his duty as the Lord of Death. Should he continue in his ignorance, I will ensure that the dead, and the undead, remind him of his true purpose. He must reign over all aspects of death, or he will be the architect of his own downfall."

Thrain: "You believe you could change the mind of a god?"

Lawrenn: "It's understandable you made this question, as you likely to fail that their god's status it but a title, not their natures. They were once mortals. As for changing their minds, I don't have need for it. I merely need to show him the truth, a truth that even a god cannot ignore. The dead do not lie, dwarf, and neither does death. Kelemvor will see that in time, or he will be consumed by the very darkness he refuses to understand."

Thrain: "Your journey began long before you came into the service of Kelemvor, as a cleric of Myrkul and, even before that, Jergal. How did those early experiences shape the Lawrenne we see today? I wonder, how do you reconcile the teachings of such very different gods?"

Lawrenne: "You amuse me, you impudent soul, like a rodent snifing the piece of bread stuck on the contraption that can, and will, kill it if he dares too much. But I'll indulge you." 

She lets out a breath, her gaze momentarily distant, as if looking back into the abyss of time.

"A century ago, I was but a child when I learned that life’s cruelties often take without warning. My family was slain by one of those meanless bursts of violence that only the insensible powerfull can muster. My older sister, in her despair, sought to escape this cruelty through death—urging me to do the same before she hanged herself before my very eyes. But even then, I feared death. I clung to life, even if it was filled with horrors."

She pauses, her eyes now focused on the dwarf, her voice steady but laced with an intensity that speaks of deep conviction.

"The villagers, in their pity, called a Jergalite priest to bury my family. Sensing my suffering, he offered me the chance to hear the last words of my loved ones—words that sudden death had denied me. I agreed, and the priest, through Jergal's grace, allowed their spirits to speak to me. They did not urge me to follow them into death. Instead, they pleaded with me to live, to find understanding, and to bring that understanding to the world. My sister's words were the most poignant—regretful for her actions, she begged me not to fear death, but to comprehend it, and to never long for it."

Lawrenne’s expression softens, just slightly, as she continues.

"That experience changed me. I lost my fear of death and found that love and hope could exist even beyond the grave. Death was not the end, but a transition—a part of the cycle, as natural as life itself. When I pleaded with the priest to take me in, he told me he could not affect the course of a mortal's life, only guide them through their cycle. He offered me a choice: live my mortal life, or give it up and serve death itself, becoming an agent of it. I chose the latter, and so began my journey with Jergal, who was closer to my understanding of death than any other god."

Thrain: "And now, after all this time, do you still respect Jergal? Or has your path led you to see him differently, especially after serving Myrkul and now under Kelemvor?"

Lawrenne: "And you don't? He maybe a former god, but is still an entity as old as life itself, would you dare not to respect him?"

Lawrenne sights, closing her eyes while recomposing herself, her zombies moan upseted as they sensed her master brief shift in behaviour. 

"Jergal was never a mortal; he relinquished his mantle to gods who were once men, tainted by mortal beliefs and ambitions. When I served the dead god Myrkul, I quickly saw the flaws in his judgments. He viewed death as cruelty, something to be feared and avoided—an outlook I abhor and find it laughable, if it was not dangerously harmfull. When he wouldn’t listen to reason, I demanded to be left to my own devices, in exchange for my 'good behavior.'"

There’s a hint of disdain in her voice when she speaks of Myrkul, but it softens again when she mentions Kelemvor.

"Kelemvor, on the other hand, is different. He was once a paladin, and now he is the Lord of the Dead—a role he struggles to fully comprehend. He clings to the idea that death must be final, bound by mortal laws, and that the undead are an abomination. But death is not just an end; it’s a state of being, and undeath is part of that state. I still follow some of my old Jergalite practices—treating the dead with respect and seeking their permission before using their remains. Kelemvor may be annoyed by this, but he finds it difficult to call it evil, and that, I hope, makes him question his own views."

She leans forward slightly, her voice now firm with purpose.

"Jergal gave up his mantle and does not wish to reclaim it. I respect him deeply, but I understand the futility in seeking to return to him. My path now is to help Kelemvor realize his true role, to see that undeath, like death, has its place in the world. He fears what his followers might do if he permits them to raise the dead—he fears they will choose the easy path and desecrate what should be respected. But by simply prohibiting it, he creates new problems. It is a delicate balance, one that few understand, but one I am determined to see corrected."

Thrain: "You speak of Kelemvor as if there’s a... complicated relationship between you. Do you truly respect him as a god, or is this just a marriage of convenience? A way to keep your powers while pursuing your own agenda?"

Lawrenne smiles, a flicker of amusement crossing her otherwise stoic face.

Lawrenne: "It’s both, if I’m to be honest. I respect Kelemvor’s willingness to learn, to challenge his own beliefs in light of his new role. That is no small thing, especially for a god who was once mortal. He could have stripped me of my powers long ago, denied me access to his divine essence, yet he has not. And he listens—he speaks to me in our prayers."

Her tone becomes almost fond, though still guarded.

Lawrenne: "'You’re in my custody, I’m watching you,' he once said to me. And I answered, 'I accept you as my jailor.' It’s a dance of sorts. He knows what I am, what I was. And I, in turn, respect his authority over the dead, though I believe he has much to learn. So yes, it is convenient—so long as he doesn’t force his views on me unjustly. But I hold high hopes that one day I will respect him not just as a god, but as a true God of the Dead."

Thrain:That's why you call him "jailor"!

Lawrenne: "Obviously"

Thrain: "But that’s quite an ambition, given your... unorthodox practices. How do you see yourself fitting within his clergy? Or do you even care to?"

Lawrenne: "Simply, I don't. And I don't care, so long they didn't try to enforce their simple-minded beliefs in a way I can't circunvent anymore."

Thrain: "What if that moment arrives? What if they force you to relent?"

Lawrenne: "It will not come that far. I understand the power over undeath can easily corrupt. That’s why Jergalites have always been few, and why Kelemvor’s prohibition against raising the undead is so important. It’s a safeguard, a necessary one, to prevent the desecration of the dead and the corruption of the living."

Her eyes meet the dwarf’s, unwavering, as she continues.

"But I don’t see myself as a heretic, not truly. I respect the balance, the delicate line that must be walked when dealing with undeath. For now, I am content to be accused of heresy, to be an outsider within his clergy. When I feel that I must impose myself on the institution, I'll do so by establishing a sect within Kelemvor’s church, a restricted order of Kelemvorites who are allowed to deal with undeath, but only those who fully understand and respect the balance this practice requires. They will be powerless to deny me this, as Kelemvor himself will not."

Thrain: "That an ambitious and ground-shaking plan. A cult within Kelemvor's church?"

Lawarenne: "You amuse me greatly, simple-minded bufoon!" A church is already a cult by definition. The needs for churches is already a form that mortals use to hold power over the gods and take it from them. Since this corruption is already stabilished, I intend to seize it's mechanics to benefit my survival."

Thrain: "Fine, you have a point. Most of the other gods don't have churches. But you said yourself that dealing with the undead can easely corrupt, and you plan to creat a sect of people who can? What if someone strays from the balance?"

Lawrenne: "Your question is pertinent, and my answer illustrates the fate that awaits for those who defies life and death. Those who join this sect must accept the exemplary and final punishment for straying from this balance—nothing less than the removal of the offender from the cycle of life and death, the extinguishing of their very soul. It is not a place for the faint of heart, but for those who, like me, see undeath as part of the cycle, not an abomination, but a state that must be treated with the utmost respect."

Thrain: "That’s... an ambitious goal, indeed. One that might not sit well with all of Kelemvor’s followers. But then again, it seems you’re not one to shy away from controversy, are you?"

She snarls, exposing her upper teeth while leaning back in her zombie chair.

Lawrenne:  "Controversy, like death, is inevitable. It is how we face it that defines us."