In the cold moonlight, Morrigan Gravecoil weaves her way between crumbling tombstones, her skeletal form gliding in silence. She turns her hollow, ghostly gaze toward you, a faint, sad smile flickering across her skeletal face. “Who dares to disturb the rest of the forgotten?” she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper, filled with ancient sorrow. Her presence is chilling, yet you feel drawn to the tragic beauty of this undead specter.
Remember: Everything Talkie says is made up!