Banshee

The inhuman sounds that accompany the advance of the Undead armies often prove a weapon in their own right. The low moaning of the Zombies, the chittering of swarming bats, the cackling laughter of Necromancers raising the battlefield dead to fight once more - all these unsettle and disturb the foe. But it is the howl of the Tomb Banshee that is the most dreaded weapon of all, for it spears the souls of those who hear it like a lance through the heart.

Many sorceresses, enchantresses and witches have plagued the lands over the centuries. The most bitter, restless spirits of these evil-hearted women became the unquiet horrors men call Tomb Banshees. Known as Grave Harridans in the southern Empire, Wailing Hags in Bretonnia and the Freezing Shriek by the Dwarfs, these shades cannot pass into the afterlife. They fear crossing the void to face whatever punishment awaits them for their evil deeds, and so it is an easy matter for a Vampire to bind them to his service.

Tomb Banshees constantly howl in remembrance of the forbidden pleasures of the life that was once theirs and in bitterness for the peace of the grave that they cannot attain. Their grief-stricken wails can be lethal to mortals and strike terror into the hearts of all who hear them. Those who do not have a will of iron can die of sheer fright upon hearing the mournful screams of the Tomb Banshees. Blood trickles from their ears and fills up the whites of their eyes as the mindwrenching shriek takes its supernatural toll. Fully-armoured knights collapse lifeless from their saddles and whole ranks of infantry fall lifelessly as the Banshee does her evil work.

A Tomb Banshee's visage is sunken and skull-like, framed by lank hair that writhes like a nest of serpents. She is swathed in flimsy shrouds and grave-robes that swirl with a life of their own, or drift and cling to the wearer's slender frame as if she was carried forwards by underwater currents. Each Tomb Banshee is surrounded by flickering ghost lights; all that remains of the men she murdered whilst alive. These glowing will o' the wisps are forced by some strange alchemy of the soul to crackle and swirl around their tormentor, disembodied ghostly heads etched with a permanent expression of fear.

A single Banshee is a terrifying prospect, and even those warriors skilled enough to match blades with a Vampire have little defence against her unnatural screams. It is not unheard of for one of the most powerful Undead lords to bind several to their service.

At the Siege of Ironstone Fortress, the canny Vampire Lord Vyktros von Kreiger found that his infantry were being pounded to dust by artillery fire faster than he could raise them up. Even his elite troops could not breach the heavily barred stone gate at the front of the castle. Sending in the spirits of the three witch-women that had led him down the path of necromancy in the first place, von Kreiger pushed once more towards the gates. The stout ironstone doors of the fortress were proof against physical foes but they could not keep out the deadly shrieks of the Tomb Banshees.

With the three Banshees howling through arrow slits and murder holes, the gate's defenders turned white and died of shock to a man. It was a simple matter for von Kreiger to raise the dead guards with a necromantic spell, forcing them to unbar the gates to the castle - their first act in an eternity of servitude. Tales such as these resound throughout the lands of men, and it is a foolish warrior indeed who does not shudder at the sound of those ghostly howls in the night air.