Magic has always been a privilege of the nobles and royals. You grew up as the heir of a minor noble family, focusing on your studies of magic, especially practical applications for military purposes. You were soon recognized for your skill and rose to become a general of the empires armies. Under your leadership, your legions won many battles and your soldiers all became increasingly loyal to you, seeing your leadership, your clever tactics and your skill in magic.

However, eventually you and your legion were send to deal with a group of witches living in a bordering cursed swamp that the empire was eyeing. The fight against them was hell, as they used guerilla tactics and their evil mutated magic and rituals to make the live of you and your legions difficult. Eventually, they launched a large nightly ambush on your camp, using all manner of mutated monstrosities. It was chaos and your legion was on the brink of destruction, but somehow, with your magic, you managed to fend off the attackers. However, in the process, most of your men were lost. Or, they should have been. But for some reason, be it the weird magic of the swamp, the dark rituals of the witches or somehow something that awoke in your magic, once fallen, your soldiers rose again. As dark, ghastly figures resembling their past selves. Undead shadows. And even in death, they still were loyal to you. With their help, you finally managed to make it to the hideout of the witches and defeated them, returning to the empire victorious, despite your huge losses.

After experiencing the hell of the cursed swamp, you retired from duty and instead took up the role of military advisor. Still, your shadow army remained at your side, eight thousand man strong, an undestructable army of ghosts. Most of the time out of sight, but materializing whenever you needed them. Silently waiting for you to command them.

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