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"I became aware of myself on an awakening slab, as we all do. I had no curiosity regarding the former occupant of this body. Why would I? It is merely a conveyance.

The humans have this ugly misperception about the necrotic, that we are mere thralls to a single intelligence. No, that is not true. We are not shin'hare, our lives are our own. Still, each of us are awakened with a particular ... 'inclination'. The word is not terribly accurate, but no other in this language describes the idea. Some necrotic stumble away from the awakening slab and pick up a sword, others a dagger, and still others a tome of arcana. Whatever their ‘inclination’ suggests to them.

My 'inclination' led me to Naagaan, the largest necrotic settlement on this world. I wandered its meticulous streets, my bare feet aimlessly moving across paths embedded with polished Hexing gems that were rounded like cobblestones.

I was drawn to a majestic structure that shimmered bluer than any sea. I would later learn that this building was the Palace of the Windbourne. As I stared up at its spires, which were shafts of pure sapphire, I saw several figures flitting through the azure-tinged air. They were necrotic, soaring far above the cobbled streets on wings of pure magic.

This was where I was meant to be.

After my acceptance and initiation into the Order of the Windbourne, I donned the mask of the acolyte. All Windbourne agree to have their vision taken from them for a time. The wind has no eyes, yet it knows exactly where it wants to go and gets there with power and grace. When the wind encounters an obstruction, it either pushes it over or finds a new path towards its destination, undeterred.

The wind also carries things from place to place, sometimes from quite distant lands. It brings smells, tastes, and even words. An errant breeze has carried voices from the human realms, along with snippets of their scheming. From what we can discern, the humans are planning a direct assault on the Palace.

They are welcome to try. The humans will be lifted from their feet and crushed against the gem-encrusted streets upon which we now stand, then carried off on errant breezes to forgotten obscurity."


Ashahsa, Windbourne Acolyte