Any Latin scholars out there?

I have several phrases in my current manuscript that are written in Greek, spoken by a werewolf. Originally, my idea was that werewolves are the Kallikanzaro of Greek legend, the critters busily chopping down the world tree every Christmas eve. But I changed my mind, and decided to make them Roman, sons of Romulus and Remus, and to speak Dog Latin.

I am fair hand at Greek, which I’ve studied, but not Latin, which I have not. Can any of my learned readers help me? Here are the phrases I need in Latin, and medieval or Ciceronian Latin is better, the older the better:

  • Immortal, you seem. I am a rational creature: be not occupied in deceiving me. Please.
  • speech without reason
  • if you please
  • Carrion-eater

Here is the surrounding text in the scene, along with the machine translation that I do not trust:

But then in the reflection, I saw the sleek canine head turn toward me. Even though the glass was dim, in the reflection I could see above and behind me the glint of his nocturnal eyes like two coppery mirrors, or two burning matches, approaching.

He slid smoothly down the living metal wall toward me. I had some half-baked notion of grabbing the crossbow from him if he got closer, but he halted.

Twenty yards away. Fifteen. Ten. I tried to urge him within arm’s reach by radiation hypnotic waves from my brain, but that was not one of the superpowers I was given.

He stopped.

Does swearing count as blasphemy if you do it silently in your heart? I decided to ask next time I went to confession. If I were so lucky.

I sat there, playing possum and watched him hang head-downward and cock another bolt with three hands.

Cripes, but I wished I had something to throw at him during the moment when there was only one leg holding him to the surface.

This time, I heard the string go thwang before the bolt entered my back. He struck some major vein. I could see the blood pumping from my back. Even with my childhood acting skills of pretending to be a bear, I could not convincingly impersonate a man whose heart had stopped beating.

Lon Chaney spoke in a sonorous, delicate language, in the lofty accents of an aristocrat. I swear he sounded like a guy who would introduce Masterpiece Theatre on public TV.

Immortales vos sunt, ut videtur.” He said, with a slight lilt of laughter to his voice. “Ego sum autem creaturae rationalis: nihil occupent me delusisse. Perplaceo.”

Latin. It was one of the languages I had studied. I could translate it… that is, while sitting at a desk with a with a lexicon open in my lap, a pencil with a good eraser, and plenty of time. Hanging sideways over a drop into an endless depth while bloodied in combat while worrying about Abby was a different matter. But I could guess at some of the words.

Deathless, you seem. I am a rational creature: be not occupied in deceiving me. Please.

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