Necrarch

The Necrarchs are the vampires who wanted none of it: not the throne, not the court, not the endless masquerade of the living. Their progenitor was W'soran, most learned and most treacherous of Neferata's early get, who betrayed every master he served because he valued one thing only: the dark arts themselves, pursued past every limit that mortality or decency imposed.

His descendants inherited that hunger and that indifference alike. Centuries of study in lightless places have withered them beyond any hope of passing for the living: gaunt, parchment-skinned, their flesh drawn tight on the bone. They seal themselves in tower-tombs far from the affairs of men and pursue necromancy in its purest form: the true magic of Nagash, refined toward a single terrible conclusion.

For the Necrarchs dream of a perfected world: a still and silent creation in which the last heartbeat has ceased and decay is conquered by the simple expedient of ending life altogether. They are the most purely monstrous of the bloodlines, not from cruelty but from cold conviction. Where a Von Carstein wants a crown and a Lahmian a kingdom, a Necrarch wants only the perfect, permanent quiet of a world with nothing left alive to disturb the work.