Regrettably, amiability had never been an option when dealing with the old school necromancer responsible for Darrol's tutoring. The tone of his letter has left Darrol a little bit squeamish, but not exactly all that surprised.
Darrol,
Come see me in Vesper. My eyes must be getting old because I could barely decipher your scribblings. Was your hand shaking so bad?
While you have been loitering in ethereal dungeons and chasing these tarts you so highly speak of, my brother Divius' apprentice has been improving his skills by leaps and bounds. And you claim to have lost half of the skills I taught you? This I want to see personally. I hope you can convince me that I haven't completely wasted all those years I spent tutoring you. If I truly have, who knows, maybe I can at least extract some more spare parts from that feeble body of yours. The next time I gouge your eyes out for one of my talismans, I won't give you any replacements. I recall your blood might have been of some use to me as well.
~V.A.
