Grave Guard

Grave Guard are not raised so much as woken. In the barrows that stud the Old World's lonely places lie the household warriors of kings older than the Empire, interred in bronze and iron with oaths still binding their bones. The necromancy of the Vampire Counts calls them to a new allegiance, and they come up out of the earth in formation: heavy wight-plate green with age, tall shields, and wight blades whose ancient curses wither flesh at a scratch.

What makes the Grave Guard terrible is not their strength but their constancy. They were oathbound guards in life, and death has simplified rather than ended the arrangement. They do not rout, tire, or question; they hold what they are set to hold until they are hacked apart or released. The von Carsteins, who understand the value of old loyalties, treat them with a courtesy shown to no living servant: one aristocracy acknowledging another.