(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

way and you'll be dead for good soon enough... and oh how you'll get yours,
then!"
My eyes rose to meet his, then, and I spoke in a soft voice that seemed to
turn the air into ice, "Watch your words, Morte."
"You-" he worked his tongue, his eloquence suddenly failing him. Morte
seemed so unsure now, so afraid to speak up, "You killed her. And you might
as well have killed Dak'kon."
"Yes. And I liked Annah. And I valued Dak'kon," I tested the tip of my dagger
with one finger, "And as of now, I still like you. If these things had to happen
to people I liked, imagine what could happen to someone that suddenly
became an annoyance."
For the first time, all Morte could do was stare at me silently.
~~~~~
Within the past three days I had been killed twelve times. It was a record for
me, really.
I had been gutted by the Harmonium, mauled by an abishai while walking
down the street. Thugs had jumped me at night, and one of the
chambermaids had even slit my throat as I slept. Each time they stole the
tome from my pack and fled, but only long enough for me to recover and
hunt them down again.
"Things seem to have gotten a lot more dangerous," I mused, running my
finger across the foul-smelling leather of the tome. I had been getting used
to the smell of decaying flesh.
"Y-yes, master," it meweled nervously, "It is good then that you have me, to
watch your back."
I chuckled, "Drop the act, my servant. I know what you are."
"W-what?"
"Oh yes," I sighed, flipping through the book's pages, "You are a parasite.
You corrupt the weak, drive them into abominable evil. You delight in
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