Shadow clings to them like wet smoke, blurring edges and swallowing detail. Teeth flash first—wide, pale rows inside too-large mouths—then claws and hunched backs slide into focus and vanish again. Their bodies leak cold blue light through cracks in the gloom, leaving brief afterimages that make distance and direction lie.
Shrouded are the spirits of the dead—devoid of any ability to reason and corrupted by the deathly mists known as the Shroud. They are raw emotional energy, unfettered and unleashed, manifested into being. The shrouded are constantly whispering about a victim’s incompetencies, weakness, foibles, and failings as they engulf their prey to drain the life from them, corrupting their soul.
Shrouded are bound by barriers and lines of iron, which is why cemeteries with iron fences keep them contained.