Lazaret:
"...but I'm afraid we have little proof of his...is apprehension the right word for what happened? What would you call it, Celador?"
"Avocation?" chimes in Celador.
Lazaret:
"...And rather disgusting now that I think about it."
Celador shudders at the memory of the incident.
Lazaret:
"But I am afraid we have some rather shocking news for all of you. Mr. Mayor, you will want to sit down for this. Enis, you should sit too. Good man."
Celador pulls over a chair for Enis.
"Malik" Celador interjects.
Lazaret:
"...the Necromancer, or as I like to call him now, Stuff on the Floor, was not working alone. He had a boss. One who pulls the strings. A most wretched fellow, felless? How do you describe a fellow who is not a fellow, but a female fellow? Femmow? Celador? Do your people have a name for such people?"
"We do, but the translation is rather rude," Celador replies.
Lazaret:
"Mr. Mayor Naylin Taar, the necromancer's boss was none other than the formerly good Sister Gwendelon. I know, right? Who saw that coming?"
"Not me."
Lazaret:
"Picture this. We are in the cave, I've just killed Marik.."
"Malik"
Lazaret:
"...and like twenty of his zombie goons and then we see another hooded man about to raise some more undead. Celador is all like 'pew pew' and shooting arrows."
Celador reenacts the pulling of a bowstring and the firing of arrows.
Lazaret:
"...Thererak is lobbing fire vials and being his weird little self. Who knows where Thorfire is - probably hiding somewhere - he likes to do that. A lot."
Celador shrugs.
Lazaret:
"Anyway, the hooded man lowers the hood and it's Gwendelon! ...and that's what happened. Oh. And we brought you this."
"Truth. All truth. I would find it hard to believe myself if I wasn't there." Celador offers as a final testamonial.
I guess that is my way of saying that Celador assists Lazaret in his persuasion.