"Let them I say, family holds little worth when it comes to titles now that the world has fallen apart... Besides, most might just be distracted from all the corpse wailing to complain about my less savory attributes. I create monsters, my heritage likely comes second in order of controversy." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice that he washed down with wine. Even if it was so easy to be distracted by the array of flavors dancing on his palate, the topic of family tasted terrible.<br/><br/>The thought of name changes was welcome to the conversation, albeit ridiculous, and Orsa was sure to laugh along. "Absolutely pretentious, but perhaps not terrifying enough. Though I never thought of myself to be something of a terror, it only comes with the craft... And, ah, your wishes of course."<br/><br/>He would become as much a threat as possible if that is what his sire wished. A mad ghost of a man, a rotting devil. And those were both a facade that came easier to him than playing the part of a court diplomat. His new role would see him thrust into high class banter for sure, as Mendoza seemed to pass the idea of locking him away in the dungeons to churn out beasts every week. Would he have even hated that? Only now, with the gentle breeze causing the curtains to sway and the rich plate of fish and peppers did Orsa decide that this was the better path. Well, being treated like a proper man was all well and good too.<br/><br/>A laugh ripped it's way from Orsa's throat at the accusations, and he dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief, grinning wide. "Would you even tolerate that? A husk of a man dwelling in the deepest recesses of your castle feasting on virgin blood? Or the bodies no less! No no, I let the beetles handle that." Though it was quite possible for any necromancer to turn into something beastly themselves... Crafting new bodies for themselves that roared like any of their creations. Only tales traveled of success, though written word spoke of failure after failure, ambitious lives lost to the ether they learned to exploit. Orsa wondered if somewhere out there, these misshapen mockeries of humanity roamed, uninterested in sharing news of their success while they continued down the path of discovery. Truely, to the immortal it must've been all too easy to forget the time.<br/><br/>"They are interesting in their own right..." The Vitamancer continued, willing himself to stop before he mentioned something particularly foul. "That reminds me, I'll need proper tanks for breeding them if they are to be kept indoors. I take it you don't want me hauling corpses out through your courtyard." Interesting indeed. A vitamancer's known number of crafts never stopped growing. Such insects were sought out when he scoured darker literature and they made quick work of bodies without harming the bone. Orsa opened his mouth to speak, before simply smiling, "Perhaps I should not indulge in the topic of corpse disposal while his majesty is enjoying a meal." Especially when the more gruesome methods involved something as wretched as water rot, provoking a memory that made his own stomach drop. Orsa had grown accustomed all manners of stench over the years, but a soaked cadaver was easily the most wretched.<br/><br/>"Ah!" Orsa perked up suddenly, "I've reminded myself. Would it be too much to ask that I have a decent smith on hand? It would save me a fair bit of time and error being able to rely on someone more skilled in metalworking than myself. A cast iron jaw is a far cry from tempered steel. Of course the good man would have to be in some part acquainted with my work... " He trailed off, uncertain. Having nearly finished his plate, he nursed the last half glass of wine while eagerly awaiting response.