For a moment, I am left no less than stunned by this revelation as I decipher what this actually means, the impact it has on our relationship, and how I may possibly escape alive. While I do this, I am sure to affirm that he is the very same Rahvert that I think he is, the one who has played a massive, overarching role throughout the history of the evils of this world.
"Rahvert the Lich God? The friend of Kairon, the corrupter of the elves and lord of the demons on this earth? Rahvert, who helped inspire Rjakavich, strongest of these corrupted elves, to create the magic of sorcery? Rahvert, the ally of Karnash, the consumer of the god of the dwarfs and the father of the dragons? Rahvert, the master of Reishvart the Evil, the dark dragon responsible for stealing the sword of the heavens and rumored to have forged the swords of the hells; the dark dragon responsible for the spread of the dark arts of sorcery and necromancy, the master of the evil wizards which rule over the kingdom of Shi'vat, including the wizard Lectoricus? Rahvert, the being brought low by the goddess of heaven, Aenae herself, and imprisoned in a mountain in the undead realms of the far North? Why, how could this be, the mountain marking your prison is many thousands of miles to the North of here, on the other side of the dragon nation?"
"Why, you seem to know a great deal about me! I had heard from my friends and followers that my name had grown to great prominence among those listed as the great evils, alongside their own; Kairon, Karnash, Reishvart, and Rahvert, the great beings who brought the most change to this world! But, that was long ago, I no longer hold as much interest towards such things. Being separated from the planes of Lincaernus, it would seem, has left me greatly 'mellowed' out, one could say."
"So it is you!" I exclaim. "But isn't it said that you were imprisoned in a certain mountain in the North, why are you here in the South?"
"Subterfuge, perhaps? It is no concern of mine, those who have need of me know where I reside, that is enough. Besides, it is not like I am incapable of escaping if need be, that potential rescuers cannot find me is hardly a real concern."
"Not incapable of escaping you say? Then, why haven't you already?"
"Well, you see, it was an act of mercy on Aenae's part to not kill me where I stood when she came to this place; even as a deity myself, I am nowhere near her match, she is powerful among even the powerful, the difference between her and I is likely even more vast than the difference between you and myself."
After processing this, I return to the issue at hand. "So, I am actually, without any sort of jest, conversing with an actual deity, the god of the undead in this world? I can certainly believe it, the aura you are putting off is nearly sufficient to stop my heart… Actually, if I may put forth a selfish request, do you think it possible to maybe… retract your aura a bit?"
"Why, I already have! What you feel now is merely the lingering effects of me releasing my built up power a week or two ago, I have no choice but to let it dissipate of its own accord. Ahem, now, enough about me, tell me a bit more about yourself! You distrubed my chambers, the list you could do is provide me with a story of yourself!"
[You know, he seems rather laid back for a creature supposedly responsible as one of the main culprits of evil in this world… but of course, it's probably all an act. When he confirmed himself to be the master of Reishvart, master of Lector and greatest known practitioner of that art which has left me in such a predicament… why, the wrath was such that I almost gave up my life in a futile attempt at revenge against this creature which can be traced to as the one perhaps most responsible for bringing about my problems… that there are direct actions in his history that have singly lead to me being in such a wretched state fills me with fury to even consider. Still, there is little point in complaining about the evil nature of things when such complaints may leave me in an even more precarious situation without solving any of my problems. After all, my greatest desire is to pursue a life that is as long as possible, jeopardizing that goal for the sake of venting my frustrations would be the height of foolishness… though perhaps I can let some of my frustrations leak into what I tell him…]
After a brief consideration, I decide to tell my story, starting with the moment I awoke in this wretched world. Over a span of what feels to be hours, I regale him with the various occurrences and events of my time in this world.
Waking up in an unknown environment, only to find that I am no longer on my homeworld – Rahvert seems rather intrigued by my origins on another planet, I barely have time to recount my thoughts upon awakening before he starts inquiring about Earth; he has a great interest in other worlds, he explains, saying that he has long considered which one he would travel to after he has fully tired of this one – I shudder to think of this character intruding upon my little blue planet, but I give no verbal conflict.
Once that side tangent has been fully explored, we return to my tale of this world. Wandering through a virtual desert, burning by day and freezing by night, dying of heat, cold, hunger, thirst, and exhaustion all at the time, essentially just waiting for a monster to appear and deal a death blow – it is only now, knowing the density of monsters in that desert, that I realize my luck to have not fallen prey to them during that time of immense weakness.
From there, to my capture by the slavers. I leave nothing out, recounting even quotations to the best of my memory – Rahvert seems to quite enjoy the parts about me teasing the slavers before being beaten to a pulp – I quickly move on.
My time in the slave wagon, with that one other girl – my memories from this time are quite hazy, which I make no effort to conceal.
My first impressions in the city, and analysis of my skills and proficiency bonuses, my madness evaluation at the church; Rahvert seems rather bored at this part, only reacting to laugh at the murder of that homeless man on my part and to mock the dullards at the church who were unable to realize I was a slave. It is perhaps at this point that it occurs to me that this undead monster whose form remains veiled in darkness is as rotten as would seem based upon his deeds in life – or death, I suppose. Not particularly surprising, of course; the undead are infamous for their cruel disposition towards the living and their unending hatred for the various religions that worship Aenae; that their progenitor would not differ in this respect seems only natural.
From there, I detail the auction I was sold at, my introduction to the training grounds, and my first meal at the military complex; even through all this, Rahvert's eyes are locked on to mine as he intently listens to what I would consider a rather bland story.
My first day of training, the conflict with Reinhart over weapon selection followed by the dangers of his class; the first day with Lector, discovering that I was incapable of that magic which is widely considered superior.
At this, Rahvert interrupts for the first time in a while, offering me his sympathies that I may never get to experience the joys of sorcery – though he expresses some hope that I may still be capable of necromancy.
I nod along to this, agreeing that that would be nice; then I continue on with my recounting of events.
My training is explained in detail; what I had learned, what I had strived towards, my practice… and my developing relations with Reinhart, Jorgenson, and Lector are not neglected to be mentioned. After all, I figure that if this all-powerful being wants to hear my story, deriving some sick entertainment from it, who am I to refuse?
While I talk, it begins to dawn on me just how much I have endured since coming to this world. The assault of the elements, the assault of man, the injustice of slavery, the death of my friends, and the betrayal of my master… all in the span of just a few months (or, perhaps, more; I still know not how much time passed between the moment of the overwhelming wrath and my awakening in the forest far away.)
And so, I continue describing the hells of this world that I had been forced to endure: the death of Jorgenson, my trial for killing that worthless noble, Lector buying me, submitting to Lector's name of my own accord…
More details of my training, omitting nothing, followed by my military unit's departure. The swamp then – I swear, Rahvert won't stop softly laughing – and Lector's betrayal.
My conclusions, and the final crystallization of my long term goals as I drudged out of the wretched forest… the encounter between the corpses of my comrades… and Reinhart. The overwhelming wrath, the loss of consciousness…
Awakening in the forest, my rush towards civilization… facing the evils of society as I earned money for a name change… discovering that the sorcerer was an incompetent fool… being sent out on mission here immediately after, with Lector's threats hanging like an axe over my head…
And that is all. Even amidst the realization and understanding of how truly awful all of these occurrences were, my composure never broke! Of course, I was hardly a monotonous drone in my storytelling – Rahvert asked for entertainment after all, and I certainly aimed to deliver.
Of course, he laughed at all the wrong parts, but at least he enjoyed the story… actually, not only the wrong parts, he seemed so overcome with mirth over the course of my storytelling that it was honestly shocking… it really is evident that he doesn't receive many visitors.