Mothers often told their children stories of the evil crow that will come for them when they aren't nice, and for many years it was only a bedtime story for children on most worlds, but as the days turned darker and the dead began to stirr, a shadow rose in Svartalfheim and terror followed in his wake.
The crow had come, who is followed by the dead. Nothing is sacred to him beyond his own being. He gathers the dead, he gathers the living and out of them he created his undead terrors.
Yet he had earned great reputation among his kind, in a time long ago. He had been rewarded with feuds and gold.
The black tower is where he sits and waits, and he knows a storm is coming, and he, Mathrazel the black centurion of undead soldiers will take his chance with iron fist.