[NikolaNeiju]

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A sound of hammer echoes throughout the very depths of Perdition, bubbling solutions transform into powerful concotions, and a certain well-armored undead appears to speak out to his brethen. Coming out with an announcement.

"No one has claimed to be the potionmaster or forgemaster before, in fact. Our kind rarely practices any trade, besides our masters. And yet as more of us awaken, the demand grows, and grows... We have to keep up with the supply."

Red hollow dots which are traced in their eyesockets, the undead raises his sword, nobly thurst into the sky.

"Should anyone be skillful enough to make the claim for themselves? So be it, until then? I shall look forward to be..."

"The First Forgemaster of Perdition."

The surface hears nothing but the rumors of an undead that is oh-so easily missed, a pilgrim, a warrior perhaps? That has been there ever since the start of Millenia. Now starstruck with inspiration, and unwavering determination.

Following the footsteps of a certain Necromancer, a Forgemaster that was there since the times before the catacombs, when of Necromancers and their undead servants there was nothing more but a mere cult.

Subtle consequences of their work lead to more powerful undead coming out to hunt people down, as they are far more well-equipped, as well as fed with enchancing potions beforehand. Making even the newest of addition to the Legion quite daunting in their own right.