They roam where defeat and victory are forgotten whispers which changed from one side to the other. Where the damned were left confined by hopeful will and tragic force. This is where they linger now, cursed in one way or another. Always aware, forgetful of all but for those moments which brought them there.
Those creatures, if one could call them that, are the specters. Silent and graceful in their seemingly eternal patrol, wrought from flesh long before by a power well beyond them. These are not the creatures made by the hand or will of Primal Gods but those lesser beings which too often share the world with them.
Tragic may be their stories, but they should always be given a wide berth should sadness or pity be felt. For though they linger in silence and confusion, theirs is the hatred to put all others to shame. Theirs is a vengeance which shall be visited upon any and all who come too close regardless of the intention. The specters feel nought but a lingering void and a hunger which rears its head when opportunity knocks.
Even the beasts of the air, land and sea avoid the specters and their places at all costs with very few exceptions. Only the foolish and extraordinarily powerful would dare to cross paths with them, and only when prepared to do so. The Sorcerer races mostly keep at a distance, as do the Sages and Lesser Mortals, though the Conusk, the faeries and a lone conjurer wander their lands without hesitation.
They are as wanderers upon the air. A whisper frozen on the breeze whose agony is at all times brought to the fore. Glowing in a pale blue light which can be seen in day or night, they seek at all times and only ever in the same place, an way out of their curse. Their long fingers slowly flick through the air, constantly feeling for what they cannot see or sense by other means. And all the while, their spectral flesh rots to expose sharp and jagged bone beneath where the light glows less.
When protectors line the areas about the specters, they do so not to stop the specters from coming out, but the world from going in. As even though the specters are forgetful search the same place over and over again, they secretly remember their maddening routine. The occasional careless wanderer often being the only release for their rage in generations.