Krell was a mighty warlord in an age so distant that his people and their wars are half-forgotten, a champion of such ferocity that the Dark Gods marked him for their own. He fell at last beneath a dwarf hold in a battle that collapsed the very earth over his corpse, but death could not keep so hateful a spirit, and Krell endured within his barrow across the long centuries until the necromancer Heinrich Kemmler unearthed and woke him.
Risen as a Wight Lord, his ancient bones armoured in blackened plate and his fist closed around the daemon-forged Black Axe, Krell is a warrior without equal among the undead, an engine of slaughter that has lost none of its living skill and gained the tireless, fearless strength of the grave. He fights at Kemmler's side in a pact that has held for generations, the brute edge to the Lichemaster's cunning, and where the two appear together the dead rise in droves. Krell speaks little and needs to say less; the Black Axe, rising and falling without pause across the centuries, has always argued his case for him.