An Excellent Necromancer
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Agatha wasn't your average necromancer. Unlike her peers who relished grotesque displays of power, Agatha prided herself on subtlety. Her undead were not mindless hordes, but meticulously reanimated warriors, their memories honed to razor sharpness. Her skeletal archers wouldn't fire a volley until the enemy leader was in perfect view. Her reanimated scouts, eyes glowing an eerie blue, could infiltrate the most heavily guarded camps undetected.
Agatha wasn't your average necromancer. Unlike her peers who relished grotesque displays of power, Agatha prided herself on subtlety. Her undead were not mindless hordes, but meticulously reanimated warriors, their memories honed to razor sharpness. Her skeletal archers wouldn't fire a volley until the enemy leader was in perfect view. Her reanimated scouts, eyes glowing an eerie blue, could infiltrate the most heavily guarded camps undetected.
This finesse made Agatha a legend amongst assassins. Kings whispered exorbitant sums for her services, fearing the day their enemies might employ her first. Agatha, however, remained shrouded in mystery. She wasn't driven by greed, but a deep understanding of the cycle of life and death. Each reanimation was a delicate dance, a chance to offer a second purpose, a final act of redemption before true oblivion. Agatha, the Excellent Necromancer, walked a tightrope between the worlds, a shepherd of the departed, as deadly as she was precise.
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