The dead linger in the Sunken Hand.
Maybe the veil between this life and the next is too thin in this place; perhaps the ancient spells of the long-dead kings who once ruled here still hold sway. The land is plagued by specters of knights, of children, of barons, of warlocks, of beasts, of killers. Some thirst for blood, others beg for forgiveness, but all have one thing in common:
Ghosts’ influence on the corporeal world is usually limited, but they are driven by a single, intense desire, and will stop at nothing to see their ends realized. This can wreak havoc on the lives of the living. When the havoc becomes unbearable, the living contact a specialist, who, fortunately for the living, is you.