The door of the shrine opened onto a deep stair rising steeply to the left from the entryway. I suppose I climbed about three stories, but there were was only one landing at the top and an otherwise steady rise of stair after stair until we stepped out of a nondescript wooden door into what could only qualify as a rather dingy, narrow alleyway. Far above, a narrow slice of nighttime sky offered a few paltry stars. I wasn’t any kind of astronomer, but something felt off about their color.

Bia led the way at a cautious pace and stopped at the entrance to the alleyway, checking both directions with unexpected paranoia. After a moment, she beckoned me to follow and we stepped out on a street straight out of the Arabian Nights. One and two story clay or brick buildings lined the streets, often with narrow alleyways like the one we just exited in between them. All in all, the buildings were in fairly decent shape, although some seemed to have been patched rather obviously. I didn’t have too much time to observe as Bia picked up her pace.

I suddenly felt something like a cold wind along with an instinctual urge to look into one of the many dead end alleys. I again felt the stirrings of curiosity and immediately bowed to its will. I tapped Bia, motioning for her to follow me. She wordlessly altered direction and trailed me two paces behind as I strode confidently into the alleyway at the behest of an extra sense. Intellectually, I knew that the darkness of a shadowy alleyway on a moonless night should be impenetrable to my normal eyesight. Still, as before in the shrine, I found that I could see clearly. I even saw color and detail, if only for a short distance. Within a few paces, I found what I was seeking.

There, huddled at the base of the wall, I saw a beggar. His clothing hadn’t been clean since before he wore it and his age could be anything from 50 to 90, but the old man was obviously in the throes of his last breaths on earth. As I watched, his breath rattled in and out laboriously. I remembered suddenly the image of my grandfather, a man I knew briefly, lying twisted in his hospital bed after the last pains of death stripped his soul from his body. It hadn’t been pretty then and even now, years later, I felt only confused emotions. Bia was safely behind me, and this man was no longer seeing this world, so I knelt by his side, taking one of his gnarled and grimy hands in my own. Instantly, he grasped it, but his grip was weak. I could feel just how thin he was from illness and want. His rheumy eyes opened, staring blankly into the dark night. His other hand grasped mine as well and I sensed the depth of his emotion as he suddenly felt the touch of another in the darkest final hour of his life.

It was only a few minutes as he lay, suffering the final pains of death, before his breath rattled out for the last time and his spirit left his mortal coil. I felt his soul drain out of his body and pool in my hand and a sweet grayish light stayed cradled in my palm as I stood. I seemed to have his soul? After a few seconds, the glow sank into my palm. I guess his soul was going to be kept the same place mine was, roughly. I was momentarily concerned about the state of my soul and the nature of life and death itself. However, I clearly knew of something between here and the immemorial past. I didn't doubt the existence of a soul. My musings were interrupted by a small blue window which appeared semitransparently in front of my vision.

Soul Gained: Ham the Beggar

The enormity of what I’d just witnessed and done shook my fragile stability. Numbly, I turned back to Bia and she led me again out into the street. I simply watched her heels as she led me through the empty streets as my mind began to rapidly spiral with thoughts of life, death, the afterlife, and the existence and nature of souls. Eventually, we entered some kind of building and she talked to a stranger in low tones before leading me by the hand into another room where there was a bed.

“Sleep,” she told me, indicating the bed.

Just like that, I collapsed and slept like a stone.

Pleasant afternoon sunlight arced through the weeping willows scattered along the banks of a placid stream. The water flowed slow and deep and the far shore was about 20 feet away. The fishing pole in my hands hadn’t seen a bite in quite some time and wouldn’t for a while. If I’d wanted to catch something, I would have baited the hook. Everything was perfect just the way it was – napping in the late afternoon and feeling the cool breeze sift through the fading heat of the day.

…

….

…..

Wait, what was I doing here? I remembered this from when I was a young man decades ago, but I was a young man now. Since when did I ever fish? I didn't even like fishing. The passivity of it offended my needed to be active and doing.

I was struck with a sudden sensation of duality and distortion. The world seemed to warp as I shook my head and soon I found myself clothed in my normal clothes – cargos and a tshirt. Next to me was a rather homely looking kid with milk jug ears sticking out on either side of his face and a dopey grin like some sort of easily distracted cow. His clothes were the traditional V-neck peasant shirt and laced breaches. I shook my head again, but he didn’t go anywhere. Who the hell was this guy?

“Hi, I’m Ham. How’re ya doin?” He said in broad country accent. His style and mannerism marked him as a lazy character. Someone who didn’t particularly want to hurry up with anything in life. He seemed to be incredibly content to just sit by the slow moving stream and listen to the buzz of insects.

“Uh, I’m…” I trailed off. “I don’t seem to remember. Cardboard Deathsomthing?”

Ham chuckled. “You sound like you been up drinking too much, but it ain’t the morning after. You can always just check yer status, right?”

“Status?” As I said it, a blue message appeared floating in the air.

STATUSNameKer’HarosAlignmentNeutralRaceUnknownLevel1ClassThe NecromancerTitleChosen of DeathProtection0Defense15Health12Mana10Strength18Dexterity15Constitution--Intellect12Wisdom12Charisma16Reputation0Souls0The newly Chosen of Death. He has yet to do anything truly significant and, so far, most of the world remains oblivious to his existence.

“What’s this!?” I exclaimed. “Are you seeing this?”

“Nah, only you can see it. ‘Sides, the status screen is something that tends to vary a touch between folks. It represents your skills in a way you can unnerstand,” Ham explained.

“So, what does yours say,” I asked, curious.

“Mine mostly jus’ sayz ‘Ham’ with some titles and whatnot. Nothin important. Nothin excitin,” Ham answered. I detected a hint of evasiveness in his answer, but I let it slide.

“Well, this says my name is Ker’Haros,” I said, returning to the beginning of our conversation.

“Lords, ain’t that a mouthful,” Ham chuckled.

“Yeah, it really is…” I agreed. I poked around my memory looking for a different name, but that line of questioning ran into abrupt red pain that quickly deterred me. I rubbed my temple as the glare of remembered agony faded. “Oh well, not that important I suppose. After all, it’s just you and me, right?”

“Sure thing, hoss,” Ham agreed. A few seconds ticked by.

“So, where am I and what am I doing here?” I asked. I was amazed that the question only now occurred to me.

“This right here is the closest thing to heaven I can imagine,” Ham replied. He stretched luxuriously in the afternoon rays of the sun and lay back on the grassy bank. The fishing pole he propped up between a couple convenient rocks. “And what I’m doing is enjoying my afterlife to the best of my ability.” He grinned at me and his teeth were a bit crooked and gap toothed.

I processed what he said slowly. “So… you’re dead and this is your heaven. What am I doing here?”

“You don’t know?” Ham asked. I shook my head in the negative. “Then I suppose it’s cause I’m sorta sharing space, as it were. I’m just the ride along in the back of your noggin, afterall.”

“Oh, right… what?”

He chuckled at me, which kind of annoyed me, since I seemed to be being made fun of by the most bumpkinish of all country bumpkins. “You can’t put two and two together? Well, I spent a lot of years livin on dem streets after my back quit and I couldn’t work no more. Been a beggar for more years than I care to remember.” My eyes widened as I finally started connecting the fluorescent blinking dots. “Yep, I don’t mind hanging out with ya, since you took the time to help me out of the world. That was a kind thing when I’d thought I’d never see another kindness in this world.” He chuckled. “Should I say that world? Well, since I’m sharing yer head, I ‘spose I’m still in it more or less, right?”

I felt the sun getting in my eyes and no matter how I turned my head, it seemed like there was a brilliant glare. “Um, yeah, I suppose so. Dang that’s bright.”

“We’ll talk summore later. It ain’t like I’m going anywhere. Seems like our time for this is about up, though.”

I tried to respond but that glare was really distracting and I found myself blinking and struggling to get away from it instead.

I awoke to light shining in my eyes. The angle of the sun through a low window told me it was well into day. I struggled to remember where I was through all my mental travels. The bed I lay on was merely a cloth bag full of straw and my blanket had been the mantle Bia gave me at our meeting. Instead of my alarm clock, sounds of an open market drifted in from a small window next to the bed. The cracked adobe of the walls revealed wooden support poles and golden motes of floating dust hung permanently in the still air. A low wooden door just past the foot of the bed would lead out into the rest of the building. Compared to the roar of traffic and the white noise of air conditioning, it felt incredibly idyllic. I tried to trace the connection my mind had just drawn and immediately the looming terror of my stint in hell derailed the thought process. It seemed that I could only make these connections passively, but I couldn't think too hard about it.

The threat of remembered pain faded and I felt refreshed. After a few more moments, the various prickles of straw poking through the bed convinced me to rise, careful to watch my head in the slightly cramped room. A clay bowl and pitcher seemed to be the standard of morning hygiene, so I took a few moments to wash. I only just reached for the washcloth when I realized that something was severely amiss. I allowed myself an inward chuckled. Something new was severely amiss. It seemed that I’d changed color. Something about that tickled my sense of humor since, after everything else, how could I look at changing color as even noteworthy? It took a distant third after hideously burning in hell and waking up again in a new world.

I checked to make sure the door was closed and examined my body in the light of day. In the dark of night, I’d somehow overlooked it, but now it was unmistakable. I had gotten a brand new body. First of all, the idea that Bia was relatively short and this room was cramped were misconceptions due in part to my own changed appearance. I stood easily six and a half feet tall. Bia was likely nearly six feet tall herself and the room was rather average in size. What’s more, I had muscles like I had never even seen on anyone but a professional body builder. Every inch of my body seemed to be rock hard. My skin was pitch black, exactly the shade of the typical black plastic used on my old tv set, stereo, and game console. The precise memory threatened a spike of pain and I quickly moved my attention forward. For all my oddities, I would have looked like a rather normal, if large, human, but I ascertained that my ears were long and pointed, too. Finally, my forearms were wrapped in jagged nearly neon green colored tattoos, almost like geometric or celtic designs. The ones on my right arm even seemed to glow slightly, although the lighting made it hard to be certain.

I looked at my faded reflection in the surface of the water and saw traces of a more familiar appearance that remained like remnants under my new face. I could see it in the cut of my jaw, the shape of my nose, and the angle of my eyes. My hair was a dark red, easily mistaken for brown in normal cases, but it showed bloody red in contrast to my skin. However, my eyes were a solid neon green, just as my tattoos. No one would be mistaking me for human. Judging by the old beggar, Ham, from last night, human was still a fairly common state of being.

“Ham?” I called softly. I felt a vague response in acknowledgement. It seemed like I’d actually harvested his soul last night. What the was with that?

I shook my head. There were too many things to worry about and too much to think about right now. Right now, the simple necessities of life would come first. No more thinking about the past and not too much thinking about the future. A familiar tune about the 'bear necessities' made me chuckle as I washed my face and rinsed my mouth. I still felt hungry, so apparently that phrase did still apply in some capacity. I still remembered my status screen, though which had a dashed constitution score. That was a cardinal trait of undead, I knew, although I didn't know specifically why I knew. I looked around for clothes, but all that was available was my cloak from last night. That hardly qualified as appropriate attire. Common sense said I should just wait for Bia to reappear, but for all I knew, she’d realized her mistake in the light of day and left for good.

That was a sobering thought.

I put the cloak back on, proud of how it reached all the way down to my calves. It was black and with a flip of my wrists, I put the hood up and arranged it to shadow my face. I also found laces along the front of it for tying it up against inclement weather. I could provide myself with the basics of modesty, at least tenuously. Still, if anyone ran into me or if I had to run, I’d be on display to the world.

I opened the door into the hallway, and found Bia sitting cross legged. She smoothly rose to her feet, presenting me with a stack of clothing with her head bowed forward and her ever present staff held underneath. I stood stock still for a moment before I accepted the clothes, at which point to she sank back into a cross legged position, her staff across her lap. Maybe she meditated? I slowly shut the door. Geez, how long had that woman been waiting? It must be closer to noon than morning. Couldn’t she have just knocked on the door and woken me up? It occurred to me that we were going to have a serious heart to heart discussion… after I got dressed… and learned the language.

The clothes included a pair of black leather pants. A little too metal for my tastes, but I’d take what I could get. There was underwear, thankfully, cause I can only imagine the chafing otherwise. Aside from that, there was a button up shirt and black leather vest. All in all, once I threw the full mantle back on, I felt like a cross between a biker, a cowboy, and a LARPer. What I didn’t feel was naked, so it was definitely good.

Time to challenge the day and see if I could figure out what the hell was going on. Wait, one thing at a time. I should try get some lunch.