Role

Chapter 6

I admit that I was quite wary of speaking with the dead when the guildmaster
first mentioned that I was ready to learn how. For someone who has sent so many to
to the grave, the prospect of hearing their curses wasn't exactly thrilling. It
wasn't until it became unavoidable that I first spoke with the dead, for at the time
I was tracking an elusive assassin by the trail of bodies he had left in his wake...

And my world turned to chaos.

Perhaps it was my hesitance in dealing with the ritual, but I forgot a key
component in the spoken verse, which caused a disastrous effect. Immediately I
began to hear voices...a chorus of voices. Some seemed distant, while others were
so close that I found myself possessed by their voices at times, speaking to myself
as if I were another. The "voices" have even manifested themselves as hazy spirits
before my very eyes, though no one else can sense them. The first voice to speak
out was that of the orc whose spirit I had intended to speak with...

"Naugraul ik'thun gwar! Rawr gla ek'uth!"

The insane snarl of of the slain orc sent chills up and down my spine, especially
when I realized that it was I who had shouted his words while hovering over his
remains. Apparently orcs are as woefully stupid and narrow-minded in death as they
are in life, for the fool got it in his head that I was the one who had slashed his
throat from the shadows. Ever since then he has shouted insane curses at me in his
insane language, often appearing when I am in a good mood, as if to bring me down.
I still don't know his name, and all attempts to communicate have been poorly
received.

The second voice to speak to me was the assassin that I had been hunting originally
when I spoke to the orc's spirit. I rather enjoy his comments, since they are very
clever and humorous, and seem to happen during times of battle. Unfortunately, his
condescending tone can occasionally be turned towards me instead of my enemies,
especially if I am defeated, or forced to flee. His name is Armaz, and he is a human
of the eastern Hamsanian variety. He seems to be meticulous in nature, greedy, and
thirsty for blood. Quite to my relief, somewhere in his fatalistic philosphy about
life and death my act of killing him is not regarded as a sore issue. He simply views
it as his fate, as well as mine, and is quite unemotional about it. Because of that
I am particularly wary of him, for of all the spirits who visit me, he alone has the
cunning to be a threat, should he find some way to cause me harm.

The third spirit is one that I simply call "the lost one," which is manifested in
the form of a crawling baby whose desperate cries occassionally drift upon the wind.
I have only seen this one twice, and both times were as I wandered the Oryx Steppes.
Surely it is bound to that place somehow, but I know nothing more of it. When it has
appeared to me, I've noticed what look to be human bite marks upon its arms.

The fourth and final spirit, I am loathe to say it, can be none other than my own
dearly departed mother. Unlike the others, I was in no location of great significance
or in the act of some dark deed when she appeared. She came to me of her own accord,
and at first she said nothing, but weeped as she saw me. When she finally spoke she
told me who she was; she told