Tabitha

Poor Tabitha washed up one spring morning on the banks of the Auger River with no memory of her own. Now, you may be thinking you’ve heard this one before, but you ain’t. As I said, Tabitha had no memory of her own, but she had plenty of memories belonging to other folk, what felt like hundreds of them.

What’s more, they was all dead. Tabitha could think back on all their memories and relive their last breaths. In short order she remembered what it was like to be stabbed in the back by a trusted companion, consumed by arcane fire, and kicked in the head by a jealous horse. Each death an injustice, each one a wrong in need of rightin’.

Most folk, and by that I mean all folk who ain’t Tabitha, would’ve repressed or more likely gone mad. Not this barmy girl. She dove right in, traveling the land in search of who these folk were and trying to bring peace to their souls. Maybe if she could do that, she could learn about who she was or feel some peace of her own.

In all that journeying and searching Tabitha became one of the most well traveled adventurers in the world and a foremost expert on the supernatural. She entered into tomb after rotten tomb and none came to know more about ghost or ghoul, and honestly, better her than me.