Pale light poured out from the sockets of Macab's many skulls as it awoke. Saying that it was asleep wasn't quite right, however. Ever since it had come into being, there had always seemed to be a sort of 'haze' surrounding it. It subsided whenever action needed to be taken, but would always return right after. For the first time, that feeling was completely gone.

Turning its attention towards the other gods, Macab could only feel Fayten's presence in the heavens. The others had instead dotted the surface of Gairemeer. Numerous teeth scraped together in a gruesome grind when it became clear why the haze had gone. Action was needed.

"Then let it be so," it whispered as it descended from the heavens. The last time something like this happened, Herotia and Isdri both rallied their followers to try and purge his gift from the world, raising champions to act on their behalf. Macab did the same and fought off their attempts until peace was brokered. With them all gone and likely looking for new champions, it would be foolish for the death god not to do the same.

A cool fury came over it. How dare they stoop this low, not even announcing their intentions before scampering off. If they thought they would get away with this, they would soon find out how mistaken they were. Macab would be the one on the offensive this time.

Hurling itself from the heavens, the skeletal god rattled in anticipation. Long had it been since it had been so active. In an irony that was not lost to it, it felt alive. Perhaps it would thank its peers for that before banishing them for a time.

Once reaching the surface, Macab instinctively felt its gift still in use. A bony smile came upon the gods' gruesome visage. Death was still keeping the world in check and souls from stagnating. That didn't mean it would remain that way if Macab didn't protect it. Its gift was a vital part of the world, and the others never seemed to understand that. Too concerned with their own domains to see the limits of the world they had made. Macab’s existence was owed to their failings after all. At least the oldest among them, Fayten, grasped its necessity.

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Getting a stock of all the corpses and remains of the world was the first thing that needed to be done. Decay for as wonderful as it was limited the options available. Too long and there wouldn't be a soul to house all the power it sought to give.

Each one of its numerous skulls split off from its body. Spreading its consciousness across the lands could hardly be called a challenge for it. It could judge entire battlefields of dead within the day.

There were plentiful bodies to take a look at, but they were all flawed in some way or another. Missing limbs, too weak in life, soul already departed, and so on. Although its powers were great, Macab was not a god of creation. It could alter what was already present, but it couldn’t make something out of nothing. It refused to settle with anything unable to wield its power to the fullest extent.

One in particular caught its attention as it went through the continent of Dewn. The corpse had been dragged through the desert by a carrion animal of some type. Fresh, not even a day old, and it came from a powerful human wizard. What little damage the scavengers had done to the bones would be trivial to fix at this stage. There was potential here.

Manifesting to approach the corpse sent the animals skittering away. One might think they would show some reverence since it was its gift that kept them fed. No matter, they would come before it again at the end of their days anyway.

Looking over the corpse, it nodded to itself in satisfaction upon seeing the large orb hovering just above the torso. This soul hadn’t merely lingered; it clung to its old home stubbornly. Whatever the reason was didn’t matter to Macab. A great soul with such tenacity was a perfect vessel. This would be its champion, and it would need a new name to reflect this.

"Rise anew," Macab whispered as its pale light streamed into the body, "Macabre." Godly power saturated the bones of the champion to be, fixing any imperfections in the skeleton and coloring the bones in a similar hue. Any flesh that remained sloughed off into a sizzling black sludge before evaporating entirely. Once this finished, the light collected itself in the rib cage and eye sockets of the newly born Macabre. The soul rushed back into its body of its own accord. Creaking, the bones stirred as the pale light started to intensify. On this day, undeath returns as a conqueror.