The scholar turned over her tale in his mind with as much scrutiny as he’d given every word she’d spoken since they’d met. The scar, the lack of a pulse, her being buried, all these pieces led the scholar to the simple conclusion that she was undead. Yet, she was not the normal type of undead that usually was found in the plaguelands. Normal undead didn’t talk, or have panic attacks for that matter. The scholar furrowed a brow as he rocked back and forth slightly.

“Well…given my limited knowledge on the situation…” he paused. “I’d say it’s pretty safe to say that you had died, probably to that gash on your throat if I was a betting man.” The scholar paused to let his words sink in. This was going to be a lot for her to handle, so he needed to broach everything with care.

“The good news is, however, that you are now very much less dead.” The scholar stumbled over his words a bit, pausing to figure out how to continue. “I do not think you are truly alive however…” he trailed off. “You kinda don’t have a pulse…” he continued. “I just checked, so while you’re not dead I wouldn’t call you living either. I guess I’d call you undead…” he ran a hand through his hair nervously.

“But hey! You’re not like the guys out there!” He gestured to the doorway. “As far as I can tell you still have your sentience, and you’re not hungry for brains either. So that’s the closest thing we have to plus so far.” He mused further on the details, cracking his neck as he turned over the facts in his head. “As for the rest though…that’s something I can’t really seem to get my head around. I’ve only seen undead creating more undead in very limited circumstances, and as far as I can tell, you don’t fit any of those cases…”