Chasmic Reapers

"You should know better than anyone what lies in the dark, Nimira, you became it! You made yourself into the darkness and now look at what's happened, we have these...these reapers! Reapers are just oh so keen to find you and make you pay your pennance and I won't be part of it, you hear me?"

— Unknown, speaking to Nimira of the Dark

The Valley

We know not where they came from, or how they arrived, for it seems like they have always been here, even when they were not.
Their form beyond that of a cloaked figure is shrouded in mystery.
We know only what they are, the harbingers of spirits, servants of what one might call gods, chosen to harvest the crop of the damned.
Once their crop is ripe for the picking, they arrive, as if a single wave of the hand. They select their chosen few and leave.
Their home lies in a valley, somewhere in the beneath. Visiting says a price, one that most are unwilling to pay and others are left with no other choice. The dark shale that you travel, the loose rocks crunching underfoot, unnaturally sharp and cutting into the feet of those who dare to visit; all is merely a warning of what comes ahead.

The Mountain

Treading ever deeper, one might find themselves in front of their gates, made from intricately formed dark wrought iron.
Pushing through the gates will leave a visitors hands cut and bloody, a necessary pain and only a minor distraction from what is to come of them.
Trudging forward, hours of walking, hours of bleeding, brings them face to face with that which they seek. To gaze upon the chasmic reapers, to visit them, to be in contact with them, leaves a mark on the soul. A mark that no magicks, no rituals, no pennance can wash away.
Those who carry the mark of damnation possess the power of the chasmic reapers, and few leave without truly becoming one of them. The few who do are eventually found, should they have the bad fortune to be near a reaper during their selection of the damned.