Return of the Huntsman

[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."