[hider=Ghural] [center][b]Ghural, the Harvester of Flesh[/b][/center] [b]Rank:[/b] Revenant Major. [b]Description:[/b] Those few who have had the misfortune of beholding Ghural with conscious eyes have struggled to believe that he may once have been human at all. Decades of replacing rotting parts of his body with fresh ones, gradually accruing bulk and horrid enhancements to his frame, have left him a misshapen colossus as large as two men, with crooked asymmetrical limbs, jagged shards of bone protruding from his flesh, and a featureless skin-mask of a face surmounted by mummified eyes sunken in sepulchral sockets. [b]Background:[/b] The truth of who or what Ghural might have been in life is all but lost to time, its only echoes persisting in hushed rumours with no clear source. The most widespread of these tales hold that he once was an undertaker and cemetery warden who, come the night, would exhume freshly interred bodies – not to despoil them of their final adornments, as a less monstrous grave-robber would have, but to barbarously eat their flesh for his own pleasure. The rumours also hint that in time he himself met a gruesome end, though what that was no one seems to recall. Be that as it may, it is known that the infamy of the Harvester arose during Eagoth’s conquest. Then, he scoured ruins and battlefields with his ghoulish underlings, sorting mangled and collapsed bodies in accordance with how they may best serve the necromancer’s designs and piling them high on charnel wagons drawn by repugnant abominations. Such is the fame that persists of him to this day. [b]Wards:[/b] Ghural and his acolytes dwell in a great ruined city southwest of Necron, named Comiriom, and hold dominion over its countryside. There, they collect bodies which for one reason or another are in no condition to rise into undeath, be they the crop of ancient necropoles or the remains of ghouls decayed beyond use and salvage by local meatworkers. Day and night, grim caravans march in and out from the crumbling gates, carrying their pestilential load like rotten blood flowing to a sickly heart. Within crypt-like halls, the denizens of Comiriom keep the tally of their often shapeless goods, and, as they did in the times of the war, part the corn from the chaff. The remains they judge worthy of further use are sent to the Meatworks, while the rest are funneled into dubious experiments and amalgamations. It is thus little wonder that Ghural’s retinue includes numerous skilled meatworkers, though their awareness of anything beyond their craft tends to be lacking, and is known to employ hordes of strangely mutilated ghouls and bizarre unnatural creations for menial drudgery. [/hider]