Truthfully, Conquest had expected more of a lair from Calvartem than simply another town surrounded another Death Spire. Given the mystique of the necromancer, it had seemed only reasonable to assume that he'd have an appropriately fearful, dreary base to call his home. Still, the impostor was glad enough to have something else to see aside from smoldering timber and bland, grassy knolls. The hours that had trudged by while the minions his new 'master' created the black tower to consecrate his victory over the village had been nothing short of monstrous. Were he capable of crying, he may have been bored to tears.

After listening to Calvertem's brief instruction, Conquest pounced on the chance of action. “The only sustenance I need is destruction. While I'm sure floating around this town and raining fire on anyone I see would be entertaining, I would be only too glad to accompany you to this port town. I could even go it alone or with a few troops—I'm a capable leader.” Realizing an error, he rethought his statement. “Capable of leading more...mundane troops, at any rate. I expect your undead hordes will be less likely to follow fire than shadow.”

Conquest held a forearm up, inspecting it. Fierce orange flames shown from between the cracks in the glassy black stone that made up his corporeal form. “Your call.”