Dear Nesni

I hope this letter and the one from Trish both find you well. I am Tal, you may have heard of me. I'm sending this letter through your uncle Perfon. The first time I met him, he helped me greatly in a time of need, though he does not recall it. When we next met, I returned the favor he did not know he was owed. When I found out you two were related, I asked that he deliver this letter on my behalf.

I have been collecting stories about the "Day of Heroes," as it has come to be known. For what it is worth, it was on this day that I met your uncle, though he does not remember.

I hope that, in light of Perfon's and Trish’s vouching of my character, that you would be willing to share the true events of your heroic deeds on Riloth the 19th. Know that should you agree, I will not allow these words to be read by another so long as I live, if that is your wish. I have reached out to many heroes from that day, and if you wish I can arrange for introductions. Know too that I would be in your debt should you ever require the aid of me or my party.

-Tal

Hi Tal,

Yes, I have heard of you. I am glad to hear that Trish is alive. Between her and Perfon’s endorsement, I'm willing to share my story with you, but I will still accept that favor.

Perfon tells me you know his former role and reason for leaving our House. My reason is basically the same. Well, sort of. We both specialized in "acquisitions," only my work involved more stabbing.

I didn't mind the stabbing so much, but what I didn't appreciate was being told who and when to stab. Eventually, they just sent me out to stab, and that's where I drew the line and left. Stabbing is best done when inspiration and need strike.

I have certain... friends? That's not the right word. I hear voices.

No, that's worse.

I'll just be blunt. Dead people speak to me.

They give me advice, leads, and sometimes teach me skills. The key is to find the ones with a grudge and convince them you are on their side. It's not all good. Sometimes the grudge they have is against you. Actually, if you could find a way to get rid of unwanted and unfriendly ghosts, I'd like to cash in that favor now. Particularly this one name Craig. I hate that guy. The other ones at least try to be scary, he just complains and calls me fat.

On the "Day of Heroes," I just happened to be in the palace of King Kalin when the voices began to speak up more than usual. I'd just "acquired" a particularly fine set of jewels when I was hit with a barrage of helpful little clues.

"Run!"

"Go!"

"Left left left!"

I was hit by a sudden barrage of shouts from all my ghostly hangers-on at once. Even Craig.

So, I ran to the left. I was in the dressing room outside the late queen's sleeping chambers, and running to the left of the servants' corridor. I ran through the hall, following the blind directions of my normally stalwart and tight-lipped advisors.

"Shhhhhhh!"

"Hide!"

"Stop making so much damned noise, you flooding cow of a woman!"

That last one was Craig.

Once more I obliged. I slowed and jumped to a shadow cast by a tapestry and began a breathing exercise to silence my labored breaths. I berated myself for letting my cardio regimen slip. After my last score, I'd spent a month donating my winnings to the Crystal Dragon Gambling Parlor.

The moment I'd hidden, four hooded and armed figures ran through the interception of the hallway before me.

"Go!"

"Right!"

"You gained a few pounds, I see. Hahaha!"

The figures had gone left, and I went down the narrow hall they'd just exited. It led to a kitchen, and all the staff inside lay dead with cuts to the throats or red patches of blood over their hearts

"Out the door!"

"Kill the servers!"

"Hey, look at the cake over there! Eat it!"

I followed the directions and ran through the kitchen doors that lead out to the grand dining hall to see a procession of four servants walking out with platters of food. Rarely did the ghosts instruct me to kill someone, but the few times I'd ignored the warning proved a mistake.

Except for Craig. He always told me to kill myself.

I threw a dart at the neck of the server two ahead at the same time I stabbed the one before me in the kidney. The two lead servants spun around in reaction to the groans of their companions, but I had already phased into the ghostly realm of the dead, making myself a hazy outline easy to miss in the poorly lit corridor.

The illusion broke and the dead servant that had taken the dart to the neck, revealing a dark-skinned, malnourished elf with bone-white hair. The one that took the knife to the kidney was swearing in forsaken, but his illusion held.

I floated behind the remaining two, and the fallen dark elf's eyes grew wide as I appeared behind his companions. Before he could shout a warning, I had already slain them.

I moved to interrogate the survivor, but the voices returned.

"Phase!"

"Kill him!"

"Eat that pastry over there. I swear it's not poisoned."

I phased back to the ghostly realm just as a bolt of Death magic shot through my incorporeal body. I was not invulnerable in this form, but even without phasing, that particular type of attack would have little effect on me.

I returned fully to the Material, a dagger already in the air flying towards the downed man. The dagger reappeared mid-flight inches from my target's head along with me and slew him before he even registered the attack.

"Scream!"

"Back to the kitchen!"

"Yes, to the kitchen. Where you belong, you damnable woman!"

I let out a wonderful impression of a terrified noble woman's scream and ran back into the kitchen. When I closed the door behind me, I heard the shouts of guards.

"Assassins!"

For once, it wasn't directed at me.

The ghosts led me down a series of winding servants' corridors that brought me to the ballroom, which was full of noble women dancing in elaborate regalia, vying for the eye of the widower king.

"Crossbow!"

"Dagger!"

"Cake!"

I drew my hand crossbow and dagger, both coated with a paralytic.

The cake did look appetizing. It was taller than me.

“Pink dress! Shoot!”

“With the frills!”

“Cake!”

All the dresses had frills, but one, in particular, was very pink. I shot the dancing woman, and as soon as the bolt had left, the voices directed me on. “Go under that table,” “dodge,” “duck,” “phase,” “stab,” “reload,” the voices directed me and I lost myself in obeying them as best I could. Chaos began to spread through the dance floor as my victims fell in death and paralysis. Illusions fell from each slain noble woman. Revealing them all to be dark elves. The guards that had begun to chase me soon caught on to the real threats and diverted their attention away from me.

“Get the wizard!” one guard bellowed.

“Kill the wizard!” all three of my followers entreated me in unison.

I shifted to a haze and traveled low to the ground towards the grand entrance unseen. Just as I’d reached the great double doors that led to the entry hall, they flew open as an elderly human man in stereotypical Tower robes stepped through. He surveyed the scene, eyes growing wide at all the dark elves on the floor, but his face was set in anger, not shock.

I no longer needed confirmation to trust the ghosts, but that look would have removed any doubt had I any. I reappeared with my knife already in his chest, and he fell to the ground. Dead before he could cast a spell.

“Pocket!”

“Get the letter!”

“Cake!”

I ruffled through the wizard's robes, my entire arm disappearing into their magical pocket, and pulled out a spellbook, which I threw aside, and a sheaf of loose paper. Spellbooks were more trouble than they were worth. I could sell it to a halfling house, they are always in the market for them, but the Tower inevitably tracks down the thief and takes vengeance. No thanks.

“Don’t fight!”

“Drop your weapons!”

“Ask them for cake in your cell!”

Reluctantly, I put my weapons down, held my hands up, and let the guards capture me. What follows is largely in the public record, so I won’t repeat it in too much detail. I was arrested, and they looked through the papers they’d found on me. They read that the wizard had been in contact with a relative of the king, third or fourth in line for the throne, who’d offered the wizard wealth in return for assisting in the assassination attempt. There was no hint in the correspondence that the forsaken would be involved, but when the conniving royal sort-of-heir was interrogated by Tower Seekers, who were very eager to get the truth out of him and clear their own name, he admitted to being a part of a dragon cult.

I had killed a lot of people while mysteriously in the castle dressed in all black. But, they let me go. When they found the favored jewels of the late queen in the pockets of the wizard I'd slain, the king personally came to the dungeon to thank me.

“Guards! Let this young woman out, she is a hero to be celebrated!” he yelled back to the jailer.

I phased into ghostly form and slipped out the bars, appearing next to him.

“No need for a public celebration. I prefer private intimate affairs with exchanges of payment—wait,” I stopped myself, “that makes me sound like a whore. I’d prefer a reward.”

The king obliged, gave me a big old sack of valuables, and let me go without much ado. Unfortunately, he told everyone the tale of “The Phantom Nesni.” He even built a statue. It wasn’t even a good name! The statue was great though. It was very flattering, and half my body was fading to haze as I stood triumphantly. I am definitely going to steal that one day.

Nesni,

Thank you for your account. I think I have a friend who can help with the Craig situation. How do you feel about spiders?

Wow, that's creepy. Perfon said the paper was magic, I didn’t know it could do this. Yea, sure, spiders are fine. But what does that have to do with ghosts?