My fractured mind screams in anguish. How long must I forget myself? These thoughts are not my own, yet they echo through my very soul. The voice within whispers the unholy order to kill, eradicate, make them suffer.
There is nothing left of my former self. All that remains is The Urge. The restless nights spent in euphoric phantasm. Visions of disfigured, mutilated bodies piled high in a vast, crimson tide.
My body is a vessel to conduct waves of heinous carnage. These hands will become the instrument of annihilation.
I understand now, yes. It is undeniable, my purpose, to thrust the Realms into mass hysteria and endless slaughter. I will purge the family name of the wasteful disappointment that is Orin, and assume my fated mantle.
I accept your charge, Father. I will become death. The Dark Urge, Unholy Assassin and Bhaal’s only Chosen.
