- What's your full name?

- Names are powerfull, suffice yourself to call me Lawrenne Lycanther.

- What's your age?

- My age? you don't ask that question to a woman, you impudent scoundrel.*

- Why Kelemvorites call you "The Heretic"?

- My fellow Kelemvorites don't understand that Kelemvor, as the new god of the dead, is also the god of the undead. His shuning to the unlife it's because the way undead are normally made, without the consent of the former owners. Servants of Jergal, the scriber of the underworld, already raised the dead by agreeing with the corpses former owners the permission to do so, I'm merely copying this practice. The fact that Kelemvor didn't take away my powers is proof that I'm right, and my fellow clergy are not.

- Hm, so you make an agreement to the former corpses owners, meaning the souls of the dead, to use their corpses, right?

- That's correct.

- These three er.. zombies, were risen like that?

- Yes.

- Don't you think using them as a throne is, like, abusing the contract?

- Pft, uneducated bard. They agreed to have me as their master, so nothing I do is an abuse of contract, but maybe an abuse of my Jailor's will.

- Jailor?

- Yes, Kelemvor.

- I see, Are you prisioner of Myrkulites cultists right now, is this correct?

- Temporarily, yes.

- You plan to escape? What they want from you?

- As you know, I was a former Myrkulite myself, and a powerfull one on that. With Myrkul's demise by the hands of Kelemvor, I was besieged by Kelemvorites paladins. To survive, I pledged loyalty to Kelemvor, at first to buy time and betray them, but then I started to grasp that the new Lord of the Dead is more of my liking, more predictable and orderly, you know? Anyway, I was recently slain and these Myrkulites took hold of my corpse and raised me, for me, once again, serve their dead deity, Mirkul. They don't know, but I noticed Kelemvor didn't abandoned me, so I'm raising an army of undead under their noses. The fools think it's the will of Myrkul and they completely trust me now. I'll use this army to slay each and every one of them, turn their corpses to ashes, so they can't easely come back again. These deranged lunatics have no place on this plane anymore. Let be me the one who sent them to their dead master.

- Wow, intense! Do you dabble in arcane arts too? 

- Dabble? You simpleton, I master the arcane arts!

- Apologies, but this would not explain how you raise the dead? Maybe you use your arcane arts to bypass Kelemvor's will to not proliferate the undead?

- How dare you, abject rodent! Do you want to test it? I can slay you with my arcane arts and speak with your soul through Kelemvor and bargain your comeback after your corpse serve me, how about that you oaf?

- I'm deeply sorry! Please don't kill me.

- Grovel.

- Please, please, don't kill me! I'm deeply sorry to ever doubt your faith.

- Kiss my boots.

(This guild judged that our member's ordeal is not usefull to this interview. Suffice to say, dear reader, that our member survived the Herectic gauntlet and returned - broken and weak willed, but returned to report his experience.)

*Note from the editor: as she was infamous to be a cleric of Myrkull - the former god of the dead - way before the Age of Troubles, we calculate she has about 84 years old!