Scourge of the West. The Lady in Black. Irenica the Ravager. The Hungering Witch. These are but a handful of colorful and overly dramatic monikers given to Irenica Scarborough by the frightful peasantry at the height of her career, and believe it when we say that these nicknames only get more ridiculous and fanfiction-y with every tankard of ale that's emptied and every bard hoping to score some ass with a cool story. But who can hardly blame the common people for shitting their pantaloons at the very mention of one of the most power- and dreadful necromancers ever to walk and terrorize the realm? Let's recap: The nigh-zombie apocalypse some twohundred winters ago? Irenica. The ravaging of the Capital by undead dragons threehundred years before that? Irenica. The assassination of the then-ruling king and his entire court a mere fifty years before THAT? Make an educated guess. Assuming you're not entirely inept at counting, dear reader, you already guessed it: Miss Scarborough, as stunning as she still looks, is several centuries older than even most robust village granny, and has used that time to build a reputation on fear, comedic sociopathy, and flashing her boobies at easy-to-fluster paladins. As you can see, there is nothing worse than a necromancer with violent disdain for all things living and too much time on her hands, who styles herself a mad scientist as much as a vile sorceress.

Well...except for the thought of her being in charge of your medical wellbeing. That might actually be ten times worse. Or better. Depends on what you're into.