At first, Trahearne doesn't realize that anything might be wrong. When the Fool turns to him, he drops his death shroud entirely, the dark mist around him fading as he follows the Fool's gaze over to the piles of dust.
"Are you concerned about them?" he asked, some bemusement in his tone. "They're from a part of the Mists called the Underworld. It's the realm where the human god Grenth judges souls, but there's far less hospitable areas - like the Bone Pits, where it's said that magic animates the corpses of those who tried and failed to enter the Underworld while still alive."
It's a gruesome explanation, but there's little emotion in Trahearne's tone. To him, this was a well-tread fact of life, an aspect of his magic he's dealt with for years. It didn't even occur to him that such a thing could be alarming, not until he saw the Fool's reaction to his minions dying. "If it helps, most of the muscular and skeletal structure of the minions are clearly taken from animals. How those ended up in the Underworld, I cannot say, but my summons don't possess souls. They have no true consciousness to speak of."
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"Are you concerned about them?" he asked, some bemusement in his tone. "They're from a part of the Mists called the Underworld. It's the realm where the human god Grenth judges souls, but there's far less hospitable areas - like the Bone Pits, where it's said that magic animates the corpses of those who tried and failed to enter the Underworld while still alive."
It's a gruesome explanation, but there's little emotion in Trahearne's tone. To him, this was a well-tread fact of life, an aspect of his magic he's dealt with for years. It didn't even occur to him that such a thing could be alarming, not until he saw the Fool's reaction to his minions dying. "If it helps, most of the muscular and skeletal structure of the minions are clearly taken from animals. How those ended up in the Underworld, I cannot say, but my summons don't possess souls. They have no true consciousness to speak of."