An ashen grey willow with pale leaved tendils obscuring it's gnarled trunk. Sitting in the mire of great swamps, rare even in it's natural environment. The Banshee Willow's bark is known to have magical properties. Travelers beware, these trees seem to attract ghosts and other unsavory undead.

Stronghold made for the liche Haukagaron. He was betrayed at the last and Castle Kaukenn was pulled into the Abyssal realms.

Ah, you are awake now I see. Wondrous news. I realized that you have no idea what is transpiring so I will be blunt so you may understand it. It is rumored that you are one of the best jewelers and metalsmiths in the region and for that you are lucky enough to have been chosen to create an item that will change the world. And afterwards, you shall be set free. My word on it.

Decanus Kormak

Damn 'ol thing it tis. Itches like nuthin I e'er felt. Stupid bugs, your the Poosker ye fool. Help me get rid o' these damnable things.

I hate to tell you this but you have what we liked to call, 'Puces Barbe Morts', or undead beard fleas. And the only way to be rid of them is to cut off your beard and then burn the hair.

No! Just kill me it's less painful that way.

Death is the fate of every birth, and life is only a brief loan of light before the eternal darkness swallows us. The remaining years of life have been stolen from the creatures known as Time Zombies, who stalk the living in the hopes of stealing a few more years of precious life.

I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart... Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.

Nightmares upon the battlefield. Once thought defeated, rumors of their return have begun to spread.

Dwarven Undead with a hunger that won't be satiated by simply your blood, brains, or flesh.

'Captain's log, date unknown. We have been exploring a region of dead space, wandering between the dull cinders of dying suns, looking for an explanation to what happened in this sector of space. Our charts show that this sector should be bursting with life - young stars and verdant worlds - but all we have seen is a stellar wasteland.' -Log entry recovered from a derelict exploratory vessel on the fringe of the Miros Waste

'It was just after nightfall when it came; a horrible, rotten mass of bone and flesh, with a voice that was like a thousand screams braided together. I only survived because I ran - I ran and I've never stopped running, because I know it's after me. Me, and everyone else who was there when the city of Vesta was slaughtered.' -Hans, Former Captain turned nomad

The empty shrines of a god so old, all but his name is forgotten.

The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.

The restless shade of a terrible demon of an age long since dust.

The Pocket Ironbones, whilst not quite the war machines that they were intended to be, have been useful in the service of Banhosea all the same.

Tales are leaking from below the Iron Hills, that an unnamed winged terror can be seen on the sky on the darkest of nights. What creature it is, nobody knows, but some of the disappearances in the harsh place are said to be its work. If the moon is hidden, nightly travellers are warned to stay from roads and open places.

Half-serious, half-silly, a scroll of cosmetic and related products for the undead amongst you. Use and abuse at your own risk.

A curiously designed ring - but not uncommon. Similar in design to most traditional ‘magi-rings’, which often hold enchantments on them. But unlike those rings, this one may take quite a hold on you…

An elder lich recently returned from a journey across the worlds who seeks an artifact of ancient times.