Gallows? He knows what those are. He's scattered and harried Joko's Awakened whenever he saw that withered lich's minions leading hapless Elonians to their deaths. Wretched, stinking undead, plaguing his home. Why didn't his mother let him nip that monster in the proverbial bud...?

(He had to wait. Prophecies, legacies, death, destiny and now it was all on his sister's shoulders...)

Was he to be healed, only to be executed? Death had been peaceful, he had no qualms about returning to that formless state, but he wasn't going to make it easy.

That's if they're enemies at all. He didn't know of any place called Kirkwall - not in Elona, Ascalon, Kryta or Cantha. Not in all of Tyria, and he had flown her skies many times, peered deep into the secret places, even visited the scrying pool in the Eye of the North, before Jormag woke, spreading their corruption.

He has questions. Many questions. And his voice alone can barely form words. He needs... something, anything to communicate.

His eyes fall to the sending crystal around Tavi's neck. The magics are... familiar. Similar, even. Weak as he is, it might work...

"Give." He inclines his head to the crystal. "To me. Neck. Ssstone. Give to me. Spee-ak."

His brow furrows. He has enough self-awareness to know his less-than-friendly demeanor may have given him a bit of a reputation. He should offer some reassurance if he's going to get what he wants.

"Will not hurt. You."

He doesn't add the for now. Not that he couldn't, he just has no reason to.