​Battlefield Role: Unholy Warrioresses devoted to Eris
​Steed: Pitch-black rabid warhorses, covered in wicked-themed heavy armour too.
Weapons: A dark steel greatsword.
Outfit: Skull-shaped closed helmet and a cape over full plate armour. All painted black, including the chain mail beneath it.
Skill level: Masters in close combat.
Affiliation: The Unholy Priestesses of Eris
Doctrine: Eris' Way of the Wicked
Strengths: Cursed and corrupted by the fallen goddess Eris, those wicked and profane dames are bound to make the world bleed!
Weaknesses: None
Eris' Riders of Chaos
Not very much is actually known about the mysterious and ravenous Riders of Chaos, but the tale about their origins is quite an interesting one. It's believed that none of them were outfitted, trained or even born in the Edgelands, but brought there by the highly deceiving Goddess of Chaos and Discord, Bloody Eris herself!
Lured by empty promises of might, glory, wealth, love and vengeance, once honourable and chivalrous amazon dames from other regions of Arandolia were chosen by Eris for their great ferocity and naivety, and then outright fooled into signing a blood pact, in which the goddess offered them whatever wish their hearts most desired. No matter how demanding or how impossible it might be, the Goddess of Chaos and Discord always manages to make those wishes come true, but always with a dire price to be paid afterwards.
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The catch in these wicked blood pacts is that Eris never mentions how she should achieve the wish, so she simply makes it happen in the most ironical and cruel way imaginable. Unless the wish is something really specific and simple, she will find a way to turn it against the wisher, claiming the poor fooled victim's very soul as her own due part of the deal in the end.
As such, women who once were proud members of highly respected elite cavalry regiments (like Kaiserin Dames, Athenian Cathapracts, Demetrian High-Borns and even Windcliff Riders) now ride pitch-black rabid warhorses, also wearing a skull-themed pitch-black armour, spreading sheer terror and mayhem in the name of the very fallen goddess who once so cruelly corrupted their bodies, minds and souls.
They are nothing but mere shadows of their former glorious past, doomed to spend the rest of their never-aging amazon lives as an empty husk of a human being, completely devoid of emotions and free will. The Riders of Chaos therefore roam the land with their bloodied swords in hand, reaping the life of the innocents in a foul display of their own personal anguish. The only way to soothe their pain is to harvest the souls of the living and then offer the dead to Eris, who only prolongues those poor accursed riders' ordeal with more and more countless years of forced servitude and suffering.
As long as they breathe, the Riders of Chaos simply have no choice but to do Eris' cruel and wicked bidding. Until, of course, a pure and bright soul can finally put them out of their misery by rightifully slaying the accursed slayers through combat.