From The Records of Thyrian Lineages, found in The Living City.
Long ago, during the Age of Myth, there was a prosperous kingdom in Ghyran, named in the Azyrian tongue as Valemar. It was a rich and prosperous kingdom, ruling over a bountiful land.
The rulers of Valemar, House Redwick, were famed as generous and kind to their people. And the crown prince of the kingdom, Isegrim was as beautiful and charming as any king or queen could hope for.
The realms lay at his fingertips. From the most prestigious tutelage, to steeds that were the envy of Thyria. But it was all dust compared to what he valued the most: His wife. Ysabel was her name. Beautiful as Ghyran during blossom, and yet as elusive as the mists of Ulgu. She was the pearl of Valemar, wed to the pride of the land. And yet, although everyone cherished and admired her, there was an ominous feeling that seemed to follow her every step. None could stay in her company for long save for Isegrim, for the warmth of Ghyran ran true in him when he saw her.
For a long time, they were happy together. But slowly, the grindstone of time crushed on Isegrim's mind. It should be noted that he always had an arrogant side but his pride was smothered by the strength his youth. But as the years rolled on, a fear crept inside the mind of the prince. Isegrim needed more time.
This thought slowly transfigured into a horrific wish for immortality, to break away from the laws of nature. And it was here that his wife showed her true colours. For Ysabel was a warlock, a necromancer sworn to Nagash, who had studied the forbidden ways of the undead.
Ysabel asked Isegrim to give her an offering and to swear his eternal loyality to Nagash. In return, she would preform a ritual that would grant him immortality and eternal control over his kingdom. The offering was however unimaginable. To make the ritual work, Isegrim would have to perform the gravest betrayal of all, sacrifising his 8 brothers, giving their immortal souls to the God of the Undead.
Isegrim was horrified of the act he was asked to perform. He wished nothing to do with this profance act, and yet his fear of death crept on his spine like a gigantic centipede. To the sorrow of all, Isegrim relented to his wife's plans.
In the days that followed, Isegrim was torn by remorse. Eventually, his resolve wavered too much, as he couldn't bring himself to betray his favourite brother, Godfried the young. In secret, he met with him and told his brother everything he was told. Hoping to alter Godfried's fate, Isegrim promised to share immortality with his brother if he would assist him. Godfried was strong and admirable, but the brightness of Hysh did not shine on him. And so he was persuaded to join in his brother's despicable act. In darkness, the two brothers prepared the ritual that doomed House Redwick.
After 3 years of preparations, Isegrim and Godfried sent invitations to each of their 7 brothers to arrive to Turntower, a fort built at the southern borders of Valemar, looking over the great river Fairflow. All of them arrived to see their dear brother, just as Isegrim had orchestrated.
It is said that the night was a night of daggers and arrows. In the gloom of Turntower, the 7 sons of Redwick met their demise one by one. Such was the depravity that was inflicted that hounds wailed across the land and specters could be seen in the sky. After Isegrim and Godfried had captured their brothers, the ritual began. But it was here that Isegrim would understand the folly of his actions. With a whisper from Ysabel she tied Isegrim and his brother into the circle with his dead brothers, as if they were bound by chains of lead. Whether this final betrayal came from fury of the denied soul or whether Ysabel resembled her treacherous master more than her husband knew, none can say. It is only recorded that as Isegrim watched his beloved, anger suffocated, hatred snuffed out, until a mere hollow void of sorrow was left. This sorrow seeped into Ysabel's heart, causing her to fail the ritual at its crucial moment. The disaster ripped all flesh from Isegrim's bones and tore his soul in pieces, scattering it around Lake Vitis.
Nothing could be done about the traitor prince's state. Only bones, clad in faded royal armor with a crown atop his skull was what remained of him. Isegrim and his brothers became mere bone and metal as Valemar quickly fell into decay and was remembered as another tragedy of those who side with Nagash. That is until recently, when Isegrim rose up during the zenith of Shyish over the Mortal Realms. And as he walked out of the room, his brothers marching quietly behind him. The royal guards that greeted him did not have a single piece of flesh on them. As his empty sockets gazed out of the window, Isegrim found that his once beautiful kingdom had turned into a plagued marshland, and desolate woods. All the life was drained out of Valemar almost as a reflection of his own moral decline. And Ysabel? She was but a mere husk. The calamity of her failed ritual had drained her of her very essence, paying the ultimate price for failing her master. And now Isegrim rides once more, his brother Godfried always close beside him. Perhaps this is his punishment for his sins in life. Perhaps this is the immortality he yearned for.