The restless dead and the made

Automate

Gear-driven guardians that patrol ruined keeps. Brass gears grind behind reinforced plating as these constructs hurl heavy arm strikes and spinning combinations at any living soul. They possess no fear and no mercy, pressing forward with mechanical persistence even after their chassis has been split open by steel. When found within forgotten vaults or collapsed corridors, they continue their programmed routes regardless of the decades passed. The Vhalder who salvage these husks note that a broken Automate will still attempt to crush a hand if it detects motion.

Barrow Mummy

Grave-wrapped dead risen from burial mounds. Strips of linen gone brown with age bind a body dried hard as old leather, and a dull light burns where the eyes should be. A Barrow Mummy shambles slowly, but its hands strike with terrible weight, and it can rise from the earth of a mound where nothing seemed to lie. It flails, it clutches, it hammers with both fists, and when it rages it beats the ground in fury. The wrappings differ from mound to mound, pale or dark or stained, as each burial-folk bound their dead. Fire takes it best; steel only slows it.

Also met as: Pale Barrow Mummy, Blackened Barrow Mummy.

Carrion Crawler

Maggot-riddled undead haunting forests and tundra. Pale flesh slick with moisture drags through wetlands and frozen earth after sunset. These corpses lack any instinct for self-preservation, pursuing living prey with mindless persistence even as their own limbs fail or bones shatter. They strike low with claws and teeth, driven by a hunger that ignores pain or retreat. Campers in the wilderness reinforce their perimeter stakes with iron spikes to prevent these creeping dead from pulling themselves over rope barriers during the night.

Crawling Ghoul

Legless corpses that drag themselves through mire and wood. Exposed spines scrape against frost and mud as these creatures emerge after sunset. Found in wet forests and frozen tundra, they advance with mindless persistence, dragging their torsos forward on clawed hands to reach any living thing. They cannot be deterred by wounds or retreat; a ghoul missing its lower half continues to lunge and bite until its heartless frame is utterly destroyed. Villagers in these regions keep their livestock in stone pens to prevent the creeping dead from dragging prey into the darkness.

Darkness Warlord

Undead flail-bearers haunting tomb depths. Rusted chainmail binds desiccated flesh together beneath plate armor. These creatures patrol the deep crypts, wielding heavy flails and shields with a mechanical, relentless rhythm. They recognize no truce and feel no pain; a Warlord will continue its chained strikes even after its ribs have been shattered or its limbs severed. Because they never retreat, tomb-robbers often die trapped against far walls, unable to break the creature's advance. Families whose ancestors guard these vaults pay wardens to keep the seals intact.

Death Skull

Winged bone spirits that know no retreat. Bone fragments and leathery wings emerge from tombs and collapsed crypts. These spirits pursue any living creature they encounter with lunging bites, driven by a mindless hunger that ignores pain or mortal wounds. Even when shattered, they continue to press forward until nothing remains to animate them. Gravediggers and tomb-robbers learned early to clear a chamber completely, as a single hovering skull will never flee or negotiate.

Evil Watcher

Many-eyed spirits haunting the deep ruins. Dozens of unblinking eyes track movement from every angle as this spirit hovers above the rubble. It possesses no instinct for flight or self-preservation, pressing its assault with claws and a venomous stinger until it is destroyed. Hunters who encounter these creatures in the depths report that the spirits never retreat, even when missing limbs or bleeding essence. Because they pursue any living thing without hesitation, settlements near ruins have erected iron bells to signal when a Watcher has crossed the threshold.

Faceless Horror

Mindless chimeric killers of forests and wetlands. Pale claws rake through tundra moss and forest loam after dusk. These creatures emerge only at night to seek out living flesh, striking with their heads and raking claws. They know no fear and cannot be deterred by injury; a creature missing its guts will continue to lunge until its heart stops beating. Village militias in the V'eld Theocracy establish perimeter fires and night watches to keep these driven things from reaching the livestock pens.

Fungoid

Staff-wielding fungal husks of the deep ruins. Spore-choked caps replace the heads of these shambling forms, which wield wooden staves with unerring accuracy. They emerge from collapsed cellars and moldering crypts where their ichor seeps into the mortar. These creatures possess no survival instinct; they pursue any living scent through thorns and fire without hesitation or retreat. Even when their limbs are severed and their bodies split, they continue to thrust and leap until they are ground to pulp. Farmers burn their root cellars annually to prevent such growth.

Ghoul

Diseased prowlers of the marshlands. Peat-stained claws and the stench of gangrene mark these undead scavengers that emerge from the wetlands after dusk. They know no fear and possess no reason, advancing on all who breathe without hesitation or retreat, even when their own limbs hang by threads of rotten sinew. These creatures bound across the mire to sink teeth into the soft flesh of a torso. Locals establish elevated boardwalks and keep oil-soaked torches lit to prevent these mindless climbers from reaching sleeping quarters.

Giant Worm

Mindless titans of the lightless depths. Chitinous segments grind against stone as these massive annelids thrust their maws forward to impale anything that breathes. Found in the lightless trenches beneath the surface, they possess no instinct for flight or self-preservation. Even when their forms are split by steel or ichor spills from their wounds, they continue their forward press without hesitation. Miners who encounter them find that neither pain nor retreat halts their advance, forcing tunnel crews to collapse entire passages to stop a single beast.

Golem

Mindless constructs of stone and ice. Rough-hewn granite and frozen permafrost form these massive frames as they wander the deserts and tundra at all hours. They possess no blood to spill and no fear to exploit, lunging forward with broad stone hands to crush anything that moves. Neither pain nor injury halts their advance; they press on through shattered limbs until they are reduced to rubble. Golemwrights bind these entities to serve as eternal sentries, leaving travelers to break them apart with heavy picks to clear the roads.

Also met as: Rock Golem, Ice Golem, Lava Golem.

Hellrot

Hunched undead abominations that haunt deep ruins. Tattered wings and hunched spines mark these creatures as they drag themselves through debris-strewn halls. They possess no instinct for self-preservation or flight; a Hellrot will continue to slash at any living throat with its claws even after its bones have been shattered. Because they never retreat, they cannot be driven off, only destroyed. Village militias have learned to burn their corpses immediately to prevent the stench from drawing more of these mindless killers from the crypts.

Maw Horror

Rib-gaping butchers of forests and frozen heaths. Cartilage and exposed bone split wide across the torso to form a second gaping mouth. These chimeric fiends emerge after sunset to hunt the wetlands and tundra, driving themselves forward with a torso-thrust that seeks to swallow prey whole. They know no fear and possess no self-preservation; even when disemboweled or crippled, they continue their advance until the heart stops beating. Hunters carry long pikes to keep these mindless things at bay before they can close the distance.

Mummy

Dried husks of unquiet tombs. Linen wraps stiff with resin and grave-dirt mark these shamblers within the deep ruins. They lack all reason or fear, advancing through steel and flame without pause until their forms are reduced to ash. A warrior faces crushing hand strikes and the sudden lash of unfurling bandage whips that bind prey while the creature presses forward. Because they never retreat regardless of their wounds, tomb-wardens always position their lines against solid walls to prevent being overwhelmed by the relentless advance.

Necromancer

Hooded caller of the dead, scythe in hand. Robed and hooded, old skulls staked about its shoulders, the Necromancer walks among the risen dead as their keeper. It hurls bolts of grave-cold from its hands and knits the broken bones of its servants back together while they fight, and when anyone reaches it the long scythe it carries does the rest. Some show a pale dead face under the hood, some a gilded crested helm, some a steel visor lit by one cold eye, but all of them work the same foul craft. Break its guard of skeletons first, then rush it before it can mend them again.

Also met as: Gilded Necromancer, Visored Necromancer.

Plague Crawler

Diseased night-dwellers of the mire and forest. Rotting flesh peels from the joints of these chimeric wretches as they emerge from wetlands and tundra after sunset. They possess no instinct for self-preservation, pressing forward with low claw strikes and facial thrusts even when their bodies are torn apart. Village militias burn infected corpses with salt and pitch rather than bury them, fearing that any flesh left to seep into the forest floor will rise again as part of a creeping dead pack.

Reaper

Hovering spirits bearing scythes in abandoned places. Pale fingers grip a curved blade that parts flesh and mail with equal ease. These spirits hover above burial grounds and collapsed sanctuaries, driven by a hunger that ignores pain or retreat. No words sway them and no wound forces a withdrawal; they press forward through their own dismemberment to deliver overhead strikes and sweeping cuts. Soldiers who encounter them learn to fight in formation, as any lone straggler becomes a fixed target for a blade that never tires.

Skeleton Axeman

Bare-ribbed dead that hack with a bearded axe. Its breastplate has rotted away to show the cage of ribs beneath, but the axe it carries is still keen. An Axeman walks straight at the living and does not give ground: a quick hack to open the guard, a chop from on high, then three blows in a row that come faster than the first two. Old soldiers say the barrow-kings buried their axemen standing, so they would be first out of the earth. Keep the haft of your own weapon between you and the bearded blade, and strike the knees where the plate no longer reaches.

Skeleton Bladesman

Hooded dead that fight with a blade in each hand. Under a rotted hood and studded leather, a Bladesman carries two short swords and never sheathes either. It cuts high, sweeps low and drives a point at the belly, then strings the blades together in a flurry that leaves no gap to answer. It feels nothing, so a wound only slows it, and it steps straight back into reach. Barrow-watchers say the hooded dead were once sworn swordsmen, buried armed by their captains. A shield held high turns the first cut; the second blade is the one that kills.

Skeleton Champion

Trophy-bearing dead lord with a long glaive. A rack of yellowed skulls rides on the Champion's back, the heads of those it slew in life, and a long glaive turns in its hands. It holds the line where the lesser dead advance, sweeping wide enough to throw a man off his feet and jabbing with the haft when pressed close. When it whirls the blade three times around, there is nowhere inside its reach that is safe. Barrow-songs name these as captains who swore to guard their lord's tomb past death. Close the distance fast, or stay well beyond the glaive.

Skeleton Crossbowman

Hooded dead that shoot bolts from the dark. Hooded like the bladesmen and buckled into the same studded leather, the Crossbowman keeps its distance and works the lever of a heavy crossbow with dead patience. It backs away from anyone who rushes it, looses another bolt, and only clubs with the stock when cornered. A quiver of spare bolts hangs at its hip and it never seems to run short. Watchmen in the barrow-country learn to listen for the clack of the windlass before the shot. Come at it from cover, and close the last steps before it can reload.

Skeleton Dreadknight

Spiked plate dead with a two-handed greatsword. Black plate bristling with spikes hides every bone but the grinning skull, and the greatsword it swings is longer than a man is tall. The Dreadknight is slow to turn and slower to tire: it rises from a low cut into a cleave, sweeps at the ankles, and brings the blade down from overhead hard enough to hammer a shield-bearer into the dirt. Grave-wardens say a single Dreadknight can hold a crypt door against a company. Fight it on open ground, keep moving, and never be standing where that overhead blow will fall.

Skeleton Knight

Night-walking undead of frozen wastes and fens. Rusted mail and bone clubs emerge from the permafrost and marsh mud after dark. These figures hold no memory of their oaths and recognize no surrender, advancing in a steady march toward any living breath they detect. Their shield-work remains precise even as ribs crack and joints splinter, for they possess no instinct for self-preservation or pain. Local survivors from the tundra and wetlands avoid wandering at night, knowing a Skeleton Knight will never break pursuit until its bones are ground to powder.

Tentacle Crawler

Mindless night-stalkers of wetlands and forests. Slimy appendages drag these creatures through the tundra and marsh during the darkest hours. They pursue any living movement with mindless persistence, using low arm strikes and biting jaws to tear at flesh. Even when missing limbs or bleeding from deep wounds, they never retreat or show fear. Hunters from the V'eld Theocracy avoid walking the woods after dusk, knowing that a Crawler will pursue a scent until the creature is completely dismembered.

Undead

Armored husks haunting the frozen wastes and fens. Rusty maces and battered shields mark these relentless figures as they emerge from tundra permafrost and wetland mires after dark. They recognize no fear and possess no reason, pursuing any living heartbeat with chained strikes until their bones shatter or the sun rises. Because they never retreat regardless of injury, those who encounter them must either break the corpse entirely or flee the marshlands before nightfall.

Volcrate

Armored avian constructs bound to ruined keeps. Steel-edged plumage and iron plating comprise these feathered warriors. They emerge from the rubble of abandoned fortifications with axes already raised, seeking any living presence to strike. Neither pain nor mutilation slows their advance; a Volcrate continues its overhead chops even when its own frame begins to splinter. Because they know no retreat or self-preservation, border guards along the Black-Slate Road execute every specimen on sight to prevent them from reaching civilian settlements.

Worm

Mindless maws that scour collapsed cellars. Pale flesh drags across stone as these creatures seek anything that breathes. They lack any instinct for self-preservation, responding to deep wounds with continued aggression rather than flight. A worm will snap at a boot or leap forward to sink its teeth into exposed flesh without hesitation. Hunters recognize them by the trail of ichor they leave behind in the dark. When a settlement's foundation crumbles, the surviving families relocate their grain stores to higher ground to avoid these relentless feeders.