//=time() ?>
When a skilled tradesmen wonders into your necromantic lair, you could enslave them... But having a Butcher on staff can raise the quality of your zombies from shambling fools, to vicious ghouls
They say this Steppe is cursed, a centuries-old graveyard... And now every poor soul who is buried here is a precious resource for the dead who walk above
A poor conduit, this form will burn away quickly, but not before it has a chance to wreak havoc on behalf of it's master
Those who accompanied the knight into this forest left him to die... But these woods forgave him and rose him back onto his feet, where he has remained unbroken, for as long as anyone can remember
Harlequins laugh even when choking on their own blood... that's no man, but a body piloted by some eldritch madness
Some would tell you the Folk are stringless puppets, bound by a namelss magic to this ancient forest. But no spell has ever broken one free, nor has any wizard learned by what means their minds and bodies are held captive...
In service they offer The Mother a single arm as a token of their faith, and with them she travels always, bestowing them power, strength and righteous courage.