Rise of the Dreamer
A man in orange robes smiles at you, He seems like quite an ordinary man; of average stature, not too old or too young. He smiles like he knows you, or maybe like he knows something you do not.
It is said, death is endless. Every century death will manifest itself upon the material plane to live as a mortal so that it may experience that which is it’s own purpose, or perhaps, to better understand it’s own purpose. Now I know what your thinking, your thinking, “Wow, does this man think he’s death?” That is not at all what I’m saying. How am I to know truly what my divine purpose is? Death can be anything; a precariously placed vase on a third story window, a knife in the dark, a jealous lover, or a complete stranger. All I know is I am a man from the B’heist tribe. All I know is death. In my tribe it is customary that men receive no names until they experience their tenth hot season as it is common that death visits early. Upon their tenth season if they have talent they remain nameless and are taken and taught the ways of our priesthood. We learn mummification rituals and burial rites to serve many peoples. We also learn the path that death walks. Many people call me the kind man- and if you are looking for death, I can help you.