NPC Cyril Merle's page

Cyril wipes the tears away. “We will do well to treasure this. Their voices will speak to us for generations to come. In time, we will all join them.” He looks to the open sky, eyes wide, smile faint. “What a beautiful song they sing today. I can’t wait to hear it way back home...” The strange man departs, whistling a shrill, off-key tune. You aren’t sure if it is of his own creation, or the one he claims to be hearing. Regardless, it sounds rather disconcerting.

Several expert witnesses are called to the stands, Divine and Arcane alike, speaking both on the history of this magic, and the dangers of it. You are quick to object to mentions on dangerous magics, telling the judge that this is not what this case is about. The case is about tradition, of religion and freedom to practice by a trained cleric of a divine faith. The word “undead” is cut off on every turn, and you can tell that the rival attorneys were seeking to use the more questionable necromancy techniques as a scare tactic on the jury.

Estelle Stingborn guarded Cyril Merle per your instructions. He came under no threats, though Estelle tells you that she didn’t know you “dealt with the crazies.” She does admit that she enjoys protecting your clientele. Estelle is ⅔ through unlocking her Bailiff ability

At the end of the week, after a surprisingly powerful, mournful testimony by Cyril Merle himself on how his small village and perhaps hundreds like it have suffered from the oversight of Roland’s lawmakers, the jury reaches a verdict in your favor. Speak with Dead, and spells similarly without malice, should have a place within communities which desire them. The judge rules that a committee created by the Roland Society chapter and the School of Divine Affairs in Hauteclere will look through the school of Necromancy and allow exceptions of spells deemed safe to cast for religious observances.

You can request additional measures for the response to the verdict as well.

Cyril thanks you for your services, handing you an almost beaded necklace with an iron ring around it. On closer inspection, the beads appear to be fragments of polished, rounded bone shards, and what looks to be teeth. “Once more, the voices of my ancestors can be heard. Do you hear them, Raphael?” The pale man smiles, looking up into the open sky, tears in his eyes. “They’re singing for us. Isn’t it beautiful?” The wind cuts through nearby buildings, whistling as it passes. You hear nothing else as he wipes the tears from his face.