Sword for hire with a "Do not resurrect" clause in their contract.
The faraway look in his eyes never really went away, no matter what the graying elven swordsman was doing. Whether the task was mundane or violent, he was always elsewhere, swinging his blade dreamily but still with brutal efficiency. It gave him a surreal appearance when he was covered in blood, but he never slacked off in his responsibilities or failed to stay vigilant for danger.
"I added that clause a few journeys back," he'd said when inquiring about the job. "I've been at this for a long time, and I've been brought back... A good number of times. I used to... I was grateful, but..." he had stared off for a while, till the wizard leading the group had cleared his throat. "Sorry. After so many times, this..." He had gestured broadly to himself, his body in general. "It feels like wearing old clothing that doesn't fit right anymore. There's less of my spirit, or more, and... I can handle it now, but only this much. No more." Another long pause followed before he'd brightly added, "And if you needed something to sweeten the deal, no need to spend money on expensive spell components! Just bring my ashes back in a nice little jar."
The cleric traveling with the group had cleared his throat. "If you had to put a number on it, how many times do you think...?"
The swordsman had made as if counting quickly on a scarred, four fingered hand. "Somewhere in the neighborhood of ...two hundred, two hundred fifty ..?" He laughed distantly. "Like I said. I've been at this for a long, long time."