<div class="floatright">(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/049/b/8/cleric_copy_by_yamao-d5vddiv.jpg)</div>"Well, Grant? What say you to do with her?" the man looked at the inquisitor, eyes furtive and penetrating as he looked at the woman. He wanted to scream and her, to shout, to punch her in the face with his gauntleted hand and order her to make sense. He wanted to beat her, senseless and bloody on the floor. He still raged from what the Paladin had said, and on one hand was glad to see him leave for a time... but on the other, he knew he should not have been so forceful. Regardless though, the anger in his belly fed his thoughts with dark smoke that left a grime of soot and ash in his mind.<br/><br/>"She is of no use to anyone--better to end her existance to put her out of her suffering, and to ensure she doesn't turn on us? Unless you have a better idea, of course." Anton felt suddenly tired as he contemplated destroying the undead woman, and wondered if she was "real". The thing that was powering her, was it her soul that made her move and talk and have thoughts and take actions? Or were the undead like puppets, controlled from afar by some dark energy with emotions and actions that were played out, but in truth hollow and with nothing living within them.<br/><br/>"I mean, she can barely speak. What use is she to us? Yet she might prove a danger yet if we kept her around," Anton mused to himself, and hand clenched around the weapon at his waist. If need be, he would do the deed himself--it was a poor man who ordered others to their death but refused to deal the killing blow. He glanced at the man, checking for a reaction. Did the inquisitor feel about the undead as some did, decrying their existance and declaring them anathema? Or had his time with Vaelor softened him? He waited for a reaction.