Summary

Marshall is descended from a long line of secret necromancers that split off from the rest of the magic-wielding community. Unfortunately for them, they wanted nothing to do with their fascination with undeath, finding the idea of tampering with life abhorrent. They left to live life in the normal world, though this did not come with it's own consequences. First, the magic in their blood craves to be used - and not sating it at least once a week will leave them physically weak and frail. And second, the other necromancers weren't exactly happy about their departure, choosing to leave gifts like assassins, traps, and other surprises regularly at their doorstep.

While they've found a few ways to get around this - draining nearby plants to heal a bird with a broken wing, or choosing to summon skeletal servants of animals rather than people, the whole ordeal leaves them rather distraught. Especially since their magic doesn't seem to take well to more natural forms, such as conjuring the elements - an effect they can only guess was a result of the centuries of change that had ensued from his fellow necromancer's tests.

But for now, they consider themselves lucky to have a respite from that nonsense. Now, to work on making sure it lasts...