Doomsteady's Clan

Mayhap it was the thick, choking miasma blanketing the Scarred Wasteland that dark Night that brought him back to unlife. Or perhaps the surface decay had finally seeped deep enough into the cracks of the earth to reach his ancient, decrepid corpse, infecting it like some zombifying disease.

The exact machinations of his return mattered not; his sentience had returned to him, caged within the selfsame flesh that had once seen him through an entire lifetime eons ago.

Clawing his way back up from the bonepile, he shook the poisonous soil from his rotted hide and surveyed his new surroundings. A nearby cathedral, crumbling and long-since abandoned, would make a fitting new home. Naming it Doomstead Hollow, he set to murdering its few unwashed, squatting inhabitants in their sleep; a simple enough task and quickly carried out. It was thus that the territory was now his to claim.

Today, the cathedral's long, empty halls echo with the sounds of leather scraping against marble and chains dragging across stone, and Darkstar uses his unholy powers to bring back others from beyond the grave. The air of the Plaguelands is a little chillier for the presence of his undead clan. And deep below the festering earth, something else has begun to stir...