What is death?

Is it a natural force of the cosmos, or a primordial being whose will decides the fated end of all life.
Could the source of such power truly be fathomed?
One dared to try.
One dared to use it.

In the dawn of time, Death walked with us. Not as an end – but as a friend.
In those days, the first tribes held the knowledge of eternal life. The power to revive one another, the power to heal and thrive forever, a power taught to them by Death themself.

The original wielders of necromancy.
But this gift with soon become a curse.

With knowledge, that their lives were eternal, the first tribes held nothing sacred.
All was abundant… all was for granted.
Death watched as their gift was defiled and the earth itself suffered for it.

Realizing their mistake, Death’s choice was made clear as they gathered all the tribes of the world for one final gift.
And with one swing of their mighty scythe, they harvested all the souls of man.

As they walked across the field of the dead, they suddenly looked down, kneeled, and the tears rained from their blackened eyes.
There they see a slain raven, caught by their mighty swing.
The final innocence to suffer for their mistake.

Honouring the slain raven, Death revives all the children of man and infuses the forbidden knowledge into the raven’s skull. Forever a warning to the next generation of what happens when one meddles with powers too great.

A final lesson.

The skull forever lost to time… until he found it.