"That's true." Rimau said, acknowledging Mysaren's affirmation of the world's grey morality scales. "'Course, where I come from, they didn't think o' magic in moral terms. More in... ethical terms, if y'know what I mean."

Rimau scratched the back of his head as he stopped briefly to observe a small fork in the road. He had to lift one of his goggle lenses off his eye for a moment since the mountains were obscured by thick forestation. As he was doing this, he idly asked "B'what makes y'think Necromancy is real important an' 'onest compared t'all the other magicist disciplines?"

The old Zizz paused for a moment, when it dawned on him that the lady might take the question the wrong way, thus forcing a verbal cut-and-paste before professional discipline broke down. He's seen it happen before. More than a person should, if professional organisation in general is to be trusted. 

"...Just out o' curiousity, y'understand. Believe me, I'm in no position t'be judgin' folks."

Listening to whatever Mysaren had to say about this, he eventually turned left, placing his lenses back on his properly, and continued down the path. But it wasn't long before he idly sniffed the air with his tongue, and could sense that familiar stench of death again. Except this time it was coming from in front of him, so it couldn't have been Mysaren. He stopped and held his hand up.

"...D'you smell that, kid? ...There's a body 'round 'ere somewhere." He paused and sniffed again, turning his head towards what looked like a ditch just beyond a lining of trees.