It is with Sadness that I must relate to you, who knew him, of the current Circumstance that surrounds the disposition of one Morty Undercrypt; or, to be more precise, the late Morty Undercrypt; or, to be even yet more precise, the Remains of said Mr. Undercrypt; or, to carry the point yet Further, the few scattered tiny bones that once belonged to said Morty which have not yet become merest Dust.

But allow me to begin nearer the beginning.

Regarding the unfortunate Demise of the late Mr. Undercrypt

It was but a short while ago that a certain Book came into my possession, the contents of which concern matters both necromantic and grim. It fell upon me to provide a Translation of this "Book of the Knowers of Death" for the people of my realm, and this task I have indeed completed. However, within said book were found Scraps and Notes which told a more personal tale.

It seems that Mr. Undercrypt, a necromancer of no slight power, began to question the Nature of his ways. While this began simply enough – many reports exist of his providing aid to those whom, in his writings, only death deserved – the concern grew with the passing of Time, much as a young seedling left unchecked may eventually tear down the strongest Tower. The value of the study of Necromancy he never questioned, certainly, for he had seen often enough how the Dark Arts may be employed to the benefit of many. No, his doubt went much deeper, to the very source: the Corruptor gods who lend their power to the necromancer's rituals. (It should be here mentioned that these Heretical thoughts were no doubt inspired in part by a certain band of Ancient Guardians whose opinions and companionship the old necromancer appreciated and respected Far more than he was ever wont to express, and to whom he owed much gladness.)

He began a study of what he started referring to as "pure necromancy," being the knowledge and practice of the Arts of Death without the Taint of the gods; and indeed, in time, his studies began to suggest that such a thing was dauntingly possible. This discovery marked a turning point in his Career and his soon-to-be-shortened life: He renounced Bertoxxulous.

To his complete Lack of surprise, most of his spells – and certainly all of the particularly necromantic ones – ceased to function. But through his new studies, he began to recreate them, to cast them in a new image: Death as the Balance of Life, rather than the Consumer of All.

The notes he left behind are incomplete, and the level of success he achieved is unclear. Some manipulation of the life energy was easily gained, but it seems he had not Yet reached the point of reanimating the dead.

What compelled him to leave his cryptic Laboratory at that point and venture into the unknown? None can say. Why did he go alone? No one knows. What brought about his sudden demise? Even the gods wonder. All we know is this: the most potent divinations Known to our kind reveal that he went far underground and, in the long-forgotten ruins of a lost civilization, Ceased to live. Naught but dust and bone mark the spot where he Fell, without sign of enemy or mishap.

And yet his Tale does not end here.

For all that my own Necromancy is most potent, and the shades of the Dead heed my call, the soul of the late Mr. Undercrypt is beyond my reach: he has neither crossed into the Underworld nor entered any known extraplanar habitat; his soul has neither been destroyed nor yet floats free in the Lands of the living. It is simply... missing.

Although sometimes, at night, I hear his Book whisper in a language I do not understand.