In the linked thread, I mentioned the evil campaign I’m involved in. It’s a D&D 3.5 campaign. My character is an undead monk. I used the mummy template to create him, although he’s not wrapped in bandages like Boris Karloff. Rather, he’s a skeletally thin figure with skin like dried leather, dressed in vividly colored Asian robes. His teeth are filed to points and stained blood red, and his fingers are mangled bone claws. Here’s the backstory I wrote when I created him:
I was a member of a holy order, a remote order of wise and benevolent men and women. It was my honor to work in the kitchens, preparing food for my brothers and sisters. I took no small pride in my skills there, all agreed that my meals were of the finest quality. But there was one person’s praise I sought above all else: Ming Lei, a priestess of the temple, whom I loved. But she was sworn to chastity in the service of our order, and I knew she would not entertain my suit, so I swore to never speak to her of my feelings.
That, as it turned out, would be the first of many vows I would break. One night, unable to restrain my feelings for her, I came to her small cell and told her of my love. I begged for her to run away with me, to leave the order and be my wife. But she spurned me! She turned away from me, and said she would speak to our abbot about my advances, for they showed that my dedication to our order was not as strong as it should have been. I could not bear it. So I took from her that which she refused to give me. When I was done, I took a heavy candlestick from beside her bed and ended her life.
I had committed a great crime, one for which I would surely hang. If I left her body there and ran, they would know I was the criminal, and they would hunt me down. I had to hide her body. I could not remove it from the monastery without being seen, but I could think of a great many places within the monastery where I could hide her bones indefinitely. But what of her flesh? The meat would rot, and the smell would give away the hiding place. It was then that my course of action became clear.
I butchered her carcass that night, boiled the bones clean, and hid them where they would never be found. The meat itself I cooked into a hearty stew, with onions and carrots, and the next day I served it to my fellow monks. I must say, it met with great success. I do not think my brothers and sisters had ever enjoyed one of my meals so much!
Ming Lei’s absence was noted, of course, but I had the presence of mind to secret away some few of her possessions along with her bones. It was assumed that she had run off, possibly with some local farm hand. No one suspected the great crime I had committed, and I was free to live the rest of my life in service at my temple.
Except that bitch would not leave me alone! That first night, after the meal, she appeared in my room, her face a bloody ruin from my blows with the candlestick. I was sure that her shrieks and moans would bring the rest of the temple running to my meager chamber, but no one appeared. It seemed I alone could see her specter, but it was small consolation. I could not sleep with her caterwauling. She appeared again the next night, and the one after that. Soon she appeared during the day, hovering over my shoulder in the kitchen, her ghostly blood dripping into the soup I was preparing.
It was too much for me. Maddened by her spirit beyond endurance, I went to where I’d hidden her body and tore it open. The candlestick I’d killed her with was hidden with her, and I took it up and began to pulverize her bones. I was… not stealthy. Indeed, it seems I was very vocal in my imprecations of her. By the time the other monks had shown up and restrained me, I had already confessed to most of the sordid deed. It was not until my fellows brought me before the abbot that I revealed their own role in my crime.
My punishment was decreed, but by then, it was too late for them. My sin was in their stomachs, and now it was upon their hearts. Simply hanging me was deemed to lenient. These wise, benevolent elders wanted vengeance. They wanted to visit upon me an evil as great as the one I had visited upon them. And in this, they outdid themselves. A powerful curse was laid upon me, one that bound me forever to this world, not alive, but not dead. A great vault was carved into the foundations of their mountain fastness, and I laid in it, still conscious, while it was sealed with a great stone lid, laid down by powerful holy wards, to keep my imprisoned in their, alone forever with my hunger.
But the wards were not perfect. My sin had entered them, and their sin upon me had weakened them further. I could sense an imperfection in my prison, and so I began to dig. They had not been fit to leave me with any tools, of course, so I used my fingers to claw at the lid to that great sarcophagus. It took me three hundred years to claw my way through two feet of stone with my bare hands. It left them the ruins you see now, while hunger wasted the rest of my body. But I was stronger than their magic, and finally, I broke free of my tomb.
And that is when I discovered a curious and wonderful thing. Over the long centuries of my burial, the stain of my crime had entered into the souls of all those who lived and studied at that monastery, slowly warping them. The sounds of my constant scraping, just beyond the audible, had driven those that remained mad. And in my long absence from their kitchens, the monks of my order had developed a fondness for my cooking. No longer a haven for light and peace, the order had become a foul and twisted thing, a cannibal cult that preyed on the surrounding villages to stock their larders.
When I emerged from my vault, ready to wreck my just vengeance against those who had for so long imprisoned me, I found instead a group of willing followers, debased men and women who fell to their knees and called me “Master.”
I fed well on their flesh that night.
Many escaped, of course. They still roam the night, alone or in small groups, looking for fresh meat for their stewpots, or fresh converts to their ways. Their devotion to me remains great. They keep my sacrament, and even spread it to others, for there are many who, once they taste the sweetest meat, find it very much to their liking. And I, in my turn, hunt them. And when I catch them, they gladly go under my knife. To my most faithful, I give the gift of allowing to watch as I feed on their extremities. For they are loyal, and know that, to best serve me, they must serve themselves.