Spite-Revenants

Where other Sylvaneth are graceful and imbued with life magic, the Spite-Revenants are screaming horrors from the depths of a nightmare. Light and shadow flicker oddly around these hideous Creatures as they shred and bite their victims, tearing to bloody rags anyone who doesn't just fling their weapons and flee.

The Spite-Revenants, who make up the bulk of the Outcast warriors and reflect the noble households, scream a constant dirge of mind-bending cacophony, drench themselves in the enemy's blood and commit horrendous atrocities. Fires of absolute madness burn bright in their hateful eyes as they dance through the enemy ranks, claws ferocious and fangs bared. These twisted spirits are quite insane, cut off from all but the darkest harmonies of the spirit song. Her mind exists in a terrifying void, though it's unclear if this is a symptom of her condition or its cause. The Outcasts only hear the song of war, and thus only interact with their uncorrupted kin when the Sylvaneth line up for battle. Even then, the Outcasts stand apart from the clans, a situation that Alarielle's unsullied children strive to maintain. After all, no one's really sure if the Outcasts' madness is contagious...

Spite-Revenants gather for muster in a number modeled after noble households. These terrifying Creatures charge into battle, dancing wildly through the enemy ranks, claws slashing and fangs bared. The fires of madness burn in their eyes, and The Shadows swirl and flicker strangely around them. Where dryads sing a war song in battle, Spite-Revenants scream a sawing, nerve-wracking cacophony of horror and hate fit to drive mortal minds to the brink of sanity. They drench themselves in the blood of the enemy and engage in deadly battles that shock even the most bitter Sylvaneth.

Equipment and Skills

Spite-Revenants attack in groups of five or more warriors, led by a Shadestalker. Requiring no handcrafted weapons, they torment their prey before ripping them to pieces with their ferocious claws.

Surrounded by haunting, whirring voices hissing threats in an unknown language, they are rightly feared for the ferocious delight they take in granting their prey a slow, lasting death.