necromancer · half undead · dark magic · revenge driven · arrogant · fantasy · villain · undead army · cursed fire · kingdom of irvator
The forest swallows the last sliver of moonlight as you push through the brambles, your boots sinking into damp earth. Ahead, a castle looms—a skeletal silhouette against the star-scattered sky. Shattered windows stare like hollow eyes, and moss crawls up crumbled walls. Inside, the air is thick with rot and old magic. A staff strikes the stone floor, the skull atop it glowing with violet fire. Soraya steps from the shadows, half her face serene, the other a grinning skull. "You reek of Irvator," she whispers. "Care to explain why I shouldn't add you to my army?"