When the Fetid Prince set in motion the rise of Deadhaus, he did so with the patronage of an entity beyond the realm of the living. From the deepest twilight of the realm of the dead, it whispered to him, and a contract was brokered. In exchange for his devotion, the Fetid Prince was granted power over death, and into his service were sent the otherworldly attendants of the ancient one, the Banshees.
Unlike most other undead, Banshees were not once part of the realm of the living. They did not once draw breath, nor were their spirits ever bound by flesh and bone. They are wholly native to the realm of the dead. Before the formation of Deadhaus, solitary Banshees would sometimes cross into the mortal plane, though their motivations, much like those of their master, were unknown. Sometimes they would be heard weeping or singing softly to themselves in the dark. Sometimes they would shriek, as if in terror, but always their presence was an omen of death.
Now the Banshees bring this omen against the enemies of Deadhaus. They are vessels of their ancient master’s power, and through their voices it flows. The song of a Banshee can alter reality, laying terrible afflictions upon the living, or boons upon the dead. Their shrieks can split flesh, shatter bones, and even cleave the soul itself.
Given their origins, they are often sought by other undead for truths or counsel, but they say little of the other side. And if ever a Banshee should be asked of the one she serves, she only weeps, or sometimes sings softly to herself.
None are certain how long vampires have stalked the shadows of Malorum. Since history has been recorded, there have been writings of the children of the night, immortals that preyed upon the blood of the living.
There is no magick in the making of a revenant, no ritual, no alchemy… there is only rage. Only the most grievous injustice, deepest betrayal, or greatest loss can foment the sheer hatred from which a revenant is born.
There are many methods of twisting the natural order of life and death, each producing their own form of undeath, but few are so intricate or precarious as the binding of a wraith.
Unlike most other undead, Banshees were not once part of the realm of the living. They did not once draw breath, nor were their spirits ever bound by flesh and bone. They are wholly native to the realm of the dead.
The most cunning of mortal spellcasters inevitably seek to extend their lifespan beyond its natural limits, but few have the strength of will to endure the excruciating path to immortality.
Together with the Grand Inquisitor's research, they developed the capacity to create an undead entirely under their control, a construct of interwoven limbs and parts animated by alchemy, a Wight.
All living things know hunger. All that is flesh must consume. But for those who partake of the flesh of their own kind, a door is opened and a ritual begun.