"Did you expect me to tremble before your blades and your armor? Do you hear a quiver in my voice as I speak to you now? I might laugh in your face if I held any regard for delight. Rid yourself, hero, of this affectation for valor. For what you fail to perceive is that your immortal soul shall assuredly reside with the Reanimation Master. There is no avoiding that now. So give yourself to my offer, a gesture of mercy for which you will later beg. Step into the shadow of the sorcerer out of time. Accept your place in the ranks of the Deathless and serve the eternal master with some degree of sentience! Or, meet your end in defiance, falling cold in defeat. You will become the embodiment of squalor and the pity of fates. Knowing only the agony of decay, you will meander the afterlife without so much as a thought. Clawing, moaning, imprisoning your soul to writhe in perpetuity. This shall be yours for all of eternity, hero. For this is the unceasing existence of the Lifeless Dead."