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Weird felt sick. This had to be done. These souls had not willingly been toyed with. Some might say they were the weaker ones. Others would argue that fact; He was one of them. Chosing, of sound mind, to end your life is not something anyone, ever, should have to do, and is not a decision to make lightly. 'I'm at least giving them the choice' he thought to himself. Why didn't it make him feel any better about it.

Taking down names, places, names of families and last wishes and respects, he came at last to the elf with the sewn together lips and nose.

Fumbling for fresh paper (the madman had writing materials in copious supply.), he provided the mute victim with a means to have his heart known, and asked his questions.

His name was elomi. He was from the retreat of valithomithi, far to the south of here. He had come to see why these lands had started to whisper of elves violating the compact with nature, and to commune with the spirits of this land to learn of their plight.  He was a druid, and had sworn only to take life in self defense.  The madman of the tower siezed him, and led him to this place, where he first tried to use honeyed words, and grand formalities to disuade him to join in its cause, and when he tried to call the clean spirits of nature to render him aid, the abomination turned on him, forced his vile potions and fragances down his mouth and nose, and then sewed them shut. Under his thrall, he had done things that he wrote "I dare not put on paper."

"I don't see any other things wrong with your body.." weird tendered.  "Why do you seek death?"

"I cannot live knowing what I have done. The taste of suffering clings in my throat, and the vile perfume of mangled, living flesh mingled with sweet wholesome gifts from the forest taints the very air I breathe." He wrote.

"What did you do, to feel you deserve death?" Weird asked.  This man would have scars, but he could be at least partially restored with simple surgery! This man could go home!

"I worked in the master's vile kitchens." He wrote. "I forced the same vile filth I was forced to drink down the necks of the master's chosen cattle, and daily, at the morning bell, I prepaired his feasts from their living flesh, and with joy in my heart, I sent it down the chutes."

"Why do you remember all this, when the most I could get from the others were vaugue recallections of a name?"

"The master willed it to be so."  His writing was scratchy now. Fevered.

"The pain I endured under his spell was to my soul. I died many times, fighting his will. And every time, he pulled me back. I do not belong here."

Weird went white.  The identity of the madman had to be known! It had to be know quickly! His necromancy had crossed the final taboo of the art. He had transgressed on the spirit! The consequences of that fact put the whole world at risk, unless he was sealed in the non-space between this world and the next!

"Tell me his name!" Weird demanded. "Tell me quickly!"

"If that is how you feel about it, and you chose life as a monster, that is you choice. I don't consider it humane, though.  I'm sure that not all of those cursed with the taint of this place would accept their apportioned fate as stoically as you are.  For them, let me offer them death, and a proper burial."

"Would you rather go home, to your wife, or children, LIKE THAT!?" Weird yelled insolently.

"Magic like this violates many conventions! Even dabbling with it has *HORRIBLE* consequences! Trying to undo this curse could very well rebound, and turn me into another version of that .. that creature!"

Turning to respond to the question, he ignored it completey.

"Why the hell did you idiots come in here!" He demanded.  "I'm a necromancer! I know what kind of shit happens in places like this! Going *IN*, WILLINGLY!? Armok's Beard! What the hell is wrong with you!"

That was not the result he had hoped for. Maybe he had miscast the spell? Well.. at least it wasn't hello kitty this time.

Templar cleaved the serving elf in two.

Weird hoped that his friends didn't accidently cleave him in his disguise.

Presented with a fresher selection of corpse bits, he discretey gestured again......

Siezing the opportunity to study what was in the "food", weird sprang to in his assumed role as servant, grasping a nearby cloth, and sopping up the spilled "food", before quickly retreating again from sight.  Rounding a curtained corner, he fumbled in his backpack for a specimine jar, and wrang the contents of the cloth inside. Stuffing the gross, veridian ichor soaked rag into a nearby cranny, he once more situated his disguise, and snuck back into place, just at the edge of perception.

[Sorry. Work has me a bit busy today.]

Weird had picked a room, but had not slept.  Instead, he had silently tiptoed out of the fortress in the night, and had been surveying the tower, secreted by the shadows.

There, watching the tower's changing of the guard... if the unholy things coming and going were actually people.... he determined that the tower was indeed vulnerable. There was a time just after the morning bell, when all the guards returned inside for some unknown function.

The doors were wooden, and swung outward like a proper fortress door should. However, they had been reinforced with strong iron banding and thick pig iron rivets. Instead of handles, they had large iron loops mounted to the framework.  A good rope, or heavy chain through the loops, and wrapped around a sturdy log, and those doors wouldn't  budge if a truck ran into them.

Stealthfully getting up and heading back toward the fortress, he saw his confidants walking up the path.... tower elves leading them.

Stealing behind the group, and picking off one of the attendants with a little chloroform, he slipped the nasty smelling trollskin coverings over his hazard suit, and pulled the hood up to conceal his filter mask, and fell in line behind the procession.

[Ninja ninja ninja]

"Remember that thread about dealing with necromancer?" Weird asked, shaking the gore from his right hand. "The one where you lock the door, dig out the whole foundation of the tower except for a single support, hook it to a lever, evacuate the pit, and 'pull for pleasure'?"

"Not sure if I remember that one..." stormtemplar murmured.

"Oh, come on. Girinhat linked to it in her knowledgebase thread. Its listed under "crimes against nature".

The idea of bringing the whole cult of codcod down in one great, monumental catastrophe seemed like a great way to clean up the neighborhood.  He couldn't wait to get started.