Death be not proud.
‘I told Sir Ursus not to take the amulet, to leave it be in it’s resting place. But he would not listen. We now trek to his place of hiding to remove the amulet and return it, and to destroy that which Ursus has become. ’
- Arch-Danath Maccalas of the Dark Step Tribe
"Don’t worry, I’ve fought necromancers before! Wait, what the…"
Undead are, simply put, among the most horrific things one can think of. Can you imagine anything more frightening than a being which is dead and yet still walks? Can you imagine the horror of being faced by the hollow shell of being, a hollow shell which must feed?
"Summon the Legions! We shall offer battle within Bleak Vale! This time, OUR cause shall triumph!"
In the far reaches of a long-lost wilderness, there stands a forgotten town inhabited only by children. Though they appear normal enough, their eyes burn with madness, and they speak in a foreign, archaic tongue. Nearly a millenia ago, a powerful spell had gone awry, or maybe it had succeeded - in any case, it ended up blessing, or cursing, an entire generation of children with agelessness. However, as the centuries passed, the children's parents grew old and died, the buildings of the town crumbled to earth, and even the civilization itself faded into history, becoming lost to time. All that remained were the children, driven mad by the psychological toll of living for hundreds of years beyond their age. In time, most children died, killed off by fighting amongst themselves, while many others were driven to suicide. Only a small handful remain, and they are a strange people indeed.