Something altogether new

"I want to be the boss..."

It all started with a simple wish.

"I want to live."

There was no end to just how exhausted you were of dying from supposed heroes. They come through your home, kill you and steal the things that belonged to you when you were alive. Sure you don't have a reason to keep them but that doesn't mean that it's ok for your grave to be robbed. People have forgotten that the dead are meant to be left to their rest. In everything it seems that you drew the short straw, the fact that you're a poltergeist instead of a wraith or other spirit that could actually do some real damage. At this point in time it would be much less stress on you if the ones from beyond the veil would change you from an enemy to someone uninteresting, an Npc maybe. Any thing would be better than this at this point

Are you sure about that little ghost?

....Sure we are talking to ourselves and that's strange in its own right but isn't this rather meta if a spectre is hearing voices themselves?

Continuing on, the thing that really gets you is that there is a giant chasm between what you think you should be and what this reality tells you you are. Is it a crime to want to be more?

No. Not if you're willing to really commit...

Okay now we know that we're not hearing things. There really is a voice talking to us.
"Hello?" You call out into the void surrounding you. Noticing your location for the first time. The manor, more like a necropolis now or a mausoleum was once your family home, a home that quickly fell into ruin somewhere after you died. As much as you want to know exactly who ruined your family's legacy it won't change anything at this point and happens to be currently irrelevant to the voice speaking to you and un-life you're living.

The master bedroom materialized into your eyesight. It would be more accurate to say that you materialized into the master bedroom but that again would be getting hung up on the small things. An annoying trait you happened to carry over from your time spent breathing. As your eyes swept across the master bedroom you saw it, the reason why you cursed you current existance, the pendant.

Small, well crafted and made from white gold, with a relatively tiny but brilliant gem. It was quite the catch for any novice adventurer. The problem was it was cursed, and technically you were the curse. So "Heroes" were always finding their way into your home. Stealin the pendant from you and taking you to a nearby church so that you died in relative comfort, if you ignored the words that were chanted that sent you forcibly back to the Ether. After going through this thousands of times you learned that you were apart of a quest handed down through the church and that, just that, caused the blood to boil over in your veins. You know... if you had veins or blood.

That's it