Role

Chapter 4

Nine years have passed since Arstan attained his freedom from Jazhi's ship.
Were they better than the nine he spent aboard?

Though vastly stronger than in his time of apprenticeship, he finds he also
has enemies far surpassing his old master. And like most bullies, he finds
himself intimidated by foes who show no weakness. Long past is the time when
a closed fist was enough to leave his opponent shaken, and today it is he
who must be wary of a punch to the face, delivered with deadly force.

Luckily, such challenges are not required to make progress in his craft.
This does, however, tend to drive him away from cities and civilization. One
would think it were easy to hide among the crowds of the city, but less so
when you're an adventurer of some repute *and* you want to keep practicing
actual necromancy. Instead, he lives abroad, between forgotten graveyards,
lost dungeons and moldy ruins, ever so starved of luxuries of moneyed life.

How ironic, then, that his first thoughts of undeath are fueled not by fear
of old age, nor by greed for power, but simply spring from his inability to
live the life he wants. Yes, he has plenty of gold now, but what's the point
since he can't spend it properly? If he feels he cannot have a comfortable,
civilized life as a mortal necromancer, then there's no loss in giving up
his ability to do so by becoming a Wight.

It's just a thought for now, but it lingers in his mind, and takes root.