c) ... your iron Will and determination. While you wish you could just clean up a mess by snapping your fingers and letting magic happen, or talking someone else into doing it for you, or figuring out a better way to make a living, like beating people up for money, it ultimately takes a certain persistent, resistant kind of mind to make work like this last an eternity.
+1.
The bastion of the mind is always the last to fall. You are known for your unshakeable determination and mental fortitude. You will not be fooled by illusions or sweetened words; fearless, you carry on where others succumb to despair and terror. Your superior willpower also allows you to force the dead to submit to you, if all means of persuasion fail. This carries its own risks, however - a strong mind will revolt against such an attempt and lash out, corrupting that soul into a malevolent Wraith. Still, it is sometimes the only way.
+2 Will.
Stats added to second post.
Relations added to second post.Death is forever. As long as the universe continues to breathe, life and death runs its eternal course. The Guides travel to a million different worlds, for a hundred different gods and faiths; and with those who do not serve or believe, for the universe itself. You feel the pull and let yourself be drawn through worlds. The Stream, the lifeblood of existence, connects all there is; the power to travel with it is for gods and Guides alone.
You come into reality in the bowels of an industrial complex, onto a blood-stained metal walkway. A vast space opens up around you, lined with towering dull-white containers that churn with strange chemicals. Right below, the top of one of the huge vats has been opened. Pale green liquid swirls inside - and some bits and pieces you're afraid are the rapidly-dissolving remains of a body.
The dead man in question, pale and immaterial as he stands at the blood stains, blinks when he sees you.
'You a janitor or something? Bloody hell,' he says. 'Look, I'm a private investigator. I got every right to be here, so don't go calling for security, right? Some bunch of thugs jumped me. I'm bloody glad they didn't get me...'
He trails off. Particularily traumatic deaths tend to leave gaps in memory. He shakes his head. 'Those punks don't know who they were messing with. When I find them, I'm gonna make them pay. Wait, should I be wearing a mask like that?'
You know where he needs to go, and it's nowhere on this earth. Making him see that might be a little trickier.
What do you do?