Centuries ago the Iron Baroness ruled her fiefdom with an icy grip, squeezing every last coin from her subjects in taxes. When rumours about witchcraft and foul rituals at her manor began to spread, the serfs finally rose up against her rule and burned down her estate. Trapped inside the dungeons underneath, the Baroness and her two most loyal retainers perished.
That is, until dark magics began to saturate the land and her lingering spirit was unshackled from its tomb, to once again terrorise her former realm. This time, her traitorous subjects would have to pay their duty in blood.
The call of the Banshee spells doom for the living
This Banshee and two Cairn Wraiths have been haunting my armies of the dead since the late nineties, varyingly as character models or unit of three.
