The smell of death premeates from the keep, as the door opens slowly, revealing naught but blackness within. You see a small movement from just inside the doorway as a gaunt figure in flowing, tattered black robes stands before you. An almost skeletal hand clutches a staff which seems to absorb the light around it, red runes glowing along it's length, it's grip a mass of tattered and dirty cloth.

       "Yes," the creature says in a horse, raspy voice. "I smell your fear. And fear you should feel. For if not for the kiss of Tymora, it may be a mirror you stare into now. This thing we call death......what is it truly? It is immortality. It is the sheding of all the weaknessess of this frail human flesh. And what is life you say? Life is just death postponed."

         The robed being before you shuffles to the side and motions for you to come in "But for now, you have nothing to fear from death. I have drank my fill of mortal essence today, and will you to live. What i am about to show you is the legacy of all I am. You will be my messenger. You will tell the world that there is more to my black heart than just the most evil Necromancer to ever walk Toril. Now go....learn...prepare."

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