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Now there's a familiar face! Before you say anything... yes, I did try to kill you. Inexcusable! I allowed pragmatism to overcome honour in a moment of desperation.

Please accept my deepest apologies and... what do you say? Can the two of us make a fresh start?


Now, as you've clearly noticed, the Allflame has given me another respite from oblivion. Alas, it's a partial success only. I am neither man nor spirit, living nor dead. A state that comes with some rather frustrating restrictions.

I know we've only just been reacquainted but to put no finer point on it, I... I need your help.

A Swig of Hope

Interested are we? Oh, splendid!

In return, I have a gift or two that I may bestow upon you with a click of my translucent fingers.

All you need do is furnish me with a crystal decanter and a juicy piece of fruit, two humble items that remain agonizingly out of reach for a man in my... peculiar situation.
Look at the sheen on that plum. Is it not the most delectable fruit that you've ever seen? No? Perhaps the gloss of hope is for my eyes only.
Will you look at that: the Decanter Spiritus. As exquisite today as when I found it all those years ago. You may fault the man, but you can't fault his craftsmanship.
Wondrous! Nothing bonds two souls more soundly than murder. For that reason alone, I knew you could be relied upon.

Now, for a little amateur vintnering. A quick squeeze of the plum like so into the decanter... oh my, look how it transmutes the juice so swiftly. From material to spectral. Effortless. And what an aroma! Imminent death never smelled so sweet. I believe I shall call this fine concoction 'the Imperial Nightcap'.

Now, before I get too carried away, there's the small matter of your recompense.
Wondrous! Nothing bonds two souls more soundly than murder. For that reason alone, I knew you could be relied upon.

Now, before I get too carried away, there's the small matter of your recompense.
A toast, to swift endings and promising new beginnings. Oh, and you might want to avert your gaze once I have quaffed this diabolical brew. I doubt that my return to solidarity will be a pretty one.

Right! As I used to say in the love dens of Trarthus... bottoms up, girls!
Oh my, now that's an unusual sensation. I... oh dear... something is amiss. The Allflame, it's... no... no, no, no, it's gone out! What have I...

What are you? No... you cannot be... I will... not...

Decanter Spiritus

I'm sure you've heard of Malachai by now? Ever the heterodox, he often sought otherworldly inspiration by imbibing a substance called 'Ghost Wine'. For the purpose, he created the Decanter Spiritus. I found it on my last visit here. Liquid placed in this crystal decanter becomes quasi-apparitional in nature.

I'm sure you can glean the Decanter's usefulness to me. Conventional liquids simply don't hit the spot. I am one sorely parched revenant.

I hid the Decanter Spiritus in the Marketplace so as not to cause temptation for the less morally steadfast in my crew. Look to the carven heraldry there and find a lion dancing upon the waves.

Chitus' Plum

Emperor Chitus was stabbed in the posterior by his own Lord Mayor on the eve of the Purity Rebellion. Chitus' grieving gemlings buried him in the Imperial Gardens and a plum tree was planted upon his resting place, so that his mourners might taste of his glory for years to come.

I found that tree, and one of my men tasted its fruit. I've never seen so much agony crammed into such a brief moment.

This... may seem a peculiar request but please, bring me one of Chitus' plums.


This current form comes with rather frustrating restrictions. It's a small improvement on my last incarnation, but I'm a man who used to poke his sticky beak into the furthest corners of the world. Now I can barely cross the road. It was no mean feat getting here from Siren's Cove, I can tell you!

So here's the truth of it. I intend to sup upon mine own death. Oh, fear not. The Allflame will resurrect me and - with luck - will restore my full freedom. But, for that to happen I must die, and in such a manner as to excite the Allflame to utmost ferocity. I am convinced that only the fruit of Chitus can provide a demise of sufficient tragedy.

Life is full of painful choices, is it not?

The Undying

I visited Sarn some thirty odd years ago. Those ghasts, the Undying you call them, scurried up from the sewers near the river and slaughtered all but a few of my most stalwart lads.

Oh, they're a foul parody of humanity, those Undying. Nothing in common with a fine, upstanding revenant like myself.


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I came to Sarn looking for an answer. The question? How did the Eternal Empire die?

On a previous excursion I picked up a few notes from Axiom Prison, written by the witch, Shavronne of Umbra. They pointed to Sarn and Malachai as being the height of all things preternatural at the time.

Never did find out if Malachai was the instigator of the cataclysm, but I'd be damned surprised if he didn't play at least some part in it.
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