I was born on a stormy night. After my father died, someone skinned him. My mother was buried beneath the Blackwater River. My grandmother said I was born with the fate of a vengeful ghost, destined to claim lives.
The living never took to me in my whole life.
But my master said I was the finest heir in this line of work, because the dead liked me.
I am a folk barber, the last inheritor of this trade.
A barber cuts the hair of the living, severs their prospects, pays respects to the dead, and divines good and ill fortune.
