Once, they were scholars and seekers of forbidden knowledge, chosen to serve in the tower of the Lord of Calden. They studied the arcane mysteries, the corrupting force of the cataclysm, and the means by which their master might harness its power. It was they who aided his great work, scribing the sigils and preparing the rites for that final, desperate ritual.
Now, they are twisted revenants, their bodies wretched echoes of the knowledge they once pursued. Their conical helms remain, but their faces are lost to shadow, their voices reduced to whispered invocations and shrieks of unnatural power. Searing blasts of ensorcelled energy burst from their skeletal hands, each taking the form of a wailing spectral skull—a deathly harbinger for those caught in their path.
Though they no longer grasp quill or tome, their purpose remains unchanged. Where the Wolfsguard bring steel, they bring sorcery, ensuring that none escape the will of their fallen Lord.
