[curaga]

"Have you heard the news?"

"They say that the menace of times past has been spotted lurking about the continent."

"The one known as Huntsman."

"But wasn't he defeated.. executed even?"

"They say the wicked never rest for long."



Word spreads quickly of the spotting of who was known to be the deceased Necromancer of times past. A wendigo-esque creature feasting upon wildlife across Meranthe. Fowl corpses found alongeide the wither and rot of forestry across the continent. Many of the time of the Huntsman had come and retired, telling the tale of his presence and how he once tormented Meranthe with his presence until being captured and executed by Aphros' finest. There is no true way of knowing how this entity might have returned from the afterlife, or if it actually had at all. The magus of the present will remain to face what seems to be his resurection or return. Who or what he is remains to be learned, or if it is even true at all that the figure would make a spontaneous return, or how, but still many are being warned to proceed with caution if venturing out alone into the wild.

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OOC Note: An encounter with this entity will call for more dangerous stakes, proceed with caution if spotting the menace.

[NikolaNeiju]

Some things, are best left forgotten.

Although in scriptures it is told, the terrifying necromancer such as he had several underlings under his command, there's one that evaded the sights of many.

A mere skeleton, but one with prowess of forgesmithing. It is said, that he was one of the first and only among his new undead brethen to pick it up. Clad in armor of green, of his own making he smithed away, making the first few tools, armors, and weapons that the disciples used in their early, blooming age. Of course, an undead left forgotten, without a master, would fade into obscurity, return to dust as damaged soul would flicker in and out.

But the rumors, they spread like a wildfire. No less. Upon hearing of such, the sands split asunder somewhere in the endless dunes of the silent expanse, rocks shatter. As a shadow is cast, old armor worn anew. The green flame flickers with a rage that defies the grasp of death.

With the trinket that cheated death itself, the unholy one would scream out into the night. Spectral tone booming and echoing the warning of damned.

"O... Here have I thought that the artifacts of old would fade into nothingness, buried beneath the endless sand."

"Fraud, heed my warning. Thou shalt not tarnish the name of my Master."

"I will rend thee apart, split your body and soul across the land and seas, Stars and Hel."

"Know the name, the rage of forgotten."

"Lysander."