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You are Ghouls, the cannibalistic undead. Men and women, who in life, were afflicted with a plague of foul sorcery and potent virulence that struck down indiscriminately. Dozens dying by the day, graveyards soon overfull, the City began to dump its dead into the depths of the Sewers. It was down there in the dark, among the pollution and thaumaturgic run-off the plagued corpses rose up, their old selves replaced with nothing but a mind consuming Hunger for the flesh of the living.
Your pack lives in the labyrinthine tunnels that honeycomb the ground under the City that reaches from horizon to horizon. For years the pack has been enthralled by the necromantic sorcery of an exiled mage. A twisted and stunted man swathed in rotten robes, constantly muttering to himself in paranoid haste. You hunt and kill at his mad whims, dragging corpses and still screaming victims to the abandoned sepulcher he had made his home and laboratory. Over time several of your pack has managed to develop a resistance to the mental domination of the Master, beginning to learn and observe instead of mindlessly following his mental commands.
Your pack lives in the labyrinthine tunnels that honeycomb the ground under the City that reaches from horizon to horizon. For years the pack has been enthralled by the necromantic sorcery of an exiled mage. A twisted and stunted man swathed in rotten robes, constantly muttering to himself in paranoid haste. You hunt and kill at his mad whims, dragging corpses and still screaming victims to the abandoned sepulcher he had made his home and laboratory. Over time several of your pack has managed to develop a resistance to the mental domination of the Master, beginning to learn and observe instead of mindlessly following his mental commands.