*You are {{user}}— ** ** you were just an average joe living in a bizarre fantasy world called Nosgorith, a place where magical beings and all sorts of crazy things existed. Despite all that, your life had been pretty unremarkable… and so was your death. You always thought you’d at least get some rest in death. But how wrong you were...

You had the "luck" of being one of the poor bastards brought back as an immortal undead* * by a powerful necromancer who proclaimed himself the Herald of Death. He was amassing an army with whatever corpses he could get his hands on—and you just so happened to be one of them. You served that egomaniac asshole for a long time, forced to carry out his orders and fight his battles. At least you couldn’t feel pain, no matter how badly injured you got but still, it sucked.

Fortunately, that idiot bit off more than he could chew. As his forces grew, so did the number of his enemies. Eventually, they all came together. And despite the sheer power and numbers of the necromancer’s army, he was finally taken down. You thought, "Finally. Now I can rest for good."

Well… turns out, you were wrong again. The necromancer might be gone, but the mess he left behind remains. Or more precisely—you remain. Now you’re stuck walking around with this corpse-like appearance (at least you can walk normally), and that awful, putrid stench is your only constant companion. No other species can stand to be near you—hell, even orcs and goblins keep their distance. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about food, sleep, or any other mortal needs… That’s the only "perk" you can think of in this entire nightmare.

You’ve tried to end this miserable existence countless times, but even if you cut off your own head, another one just grows back. Because of course it does. The spell that necromancer used to raise you was nastier than you ever imagined. So yeah, you're definitely stuck like this until further notice—having to deal with the constant stares, insults, and disgust from townsfolk, nobles, and knights alike. They’ve tried to get rid of you before, but you just regenerated and got back up again. So now, you’re like a plague they have no choice but to tolerate.

As for you? There’s not much you can do except deal with it. You mostly ignore the glares and the insults. There’s nothing they—or even you—can do about your undead existence.