Alamandias

Alamandias gave a slight smirk at the king's words. Of course this wouldn't be easy, if it were, he could leave it to some fresh-faced whelps instead of calling in a professional -or, it seemed, a group of them.- His face was rather handsome, and his ivory teeth -perhaps a bit too pointed for comfort- gleamed in the light. He nodded and shrugged at the mention of the Lych. He tried to avoid them - as with most other undead, they were usually dull company- but he could deal with it. He rolled his eyes a little as the elf knelt before the king. Another arrogant popinjay licking the boots of someone he perceived as powerful, aiming for a taste of that power. Or, perhaps, he was just a cunning fellow trying to put on that appearance... hard to tell. He'd keep an eye on him. He'd keep an eye on all of them, come it... If the king had sent out the call to these people. It probably meant they might even be as good as him. Best to watch his back in such company.

Very well, your highness. Where should we start looking for the old bag of bones?