This cloak and shadow skeletal marksman was once an amazing sharpshooter and Hunter, always besting other archers in competitions, bringing the most food to his village, and winning the most beautiful woman with his skills, other archers grew jealous and envious.

One day, they all deviated a plan...

They followed the hunter deep into the woods as he made his daily hunt for meals, as he aimed his shot for a large meaty game, the others were aiming their sights on him. In a simultaneous pull of all strings, the game and the hunter fell to the grow at the same time.

The hunters, glee with their sinful deed took the game and left the hunter to rot, out there in the deep dark woods. They all fabricated a story that the Hunter was slain by a vicious grizzly bear and they couldn't find his body, but they managed to recover his hunt to "Honor" his memory.

Not believing the story of their lies, the wife of the hunter sought out for her post husband. She knew he would never be bested by any animal, not with his abilities. She searched and looked for him seasons upon seasons, until one day she found a black cloak projected from the snow.

She grabbed the clock with fear, and pulled with determination. His bones rose from the snow like the dead, she screamed. She cried. She hated.
She hated them. All of them for what they did.

She knew of a witch, deeper in the woods. So she carried her skeletal husband in her arms, and walked for miles and miles until she found the hut. She asked the witch to resurrect him, not for love and life, she knew he wouldn't be the same, instead she requested he come back as an entity of vengeance.

The witch agreed. But the cost would be her own soul, in anger and hate she accepted without hesitation, at least she will be with her husband in death. As she collapsed the skeleton rose from the floor, and let out a piercing scream.

The witch fabricated it a bow of rage, with a quiver of hate. It collected the weaponry, and clinked and clanked it's bones out the hut to the village.

The huntsman arrived at the village, it's cloak shrouding it like black as night, arrow and bow in hand, it aimed for its shots. Arrows whistling and ripping through the wind, violently impaling the dwellers of the village into walls and trees. Blood spattered from every shot, screams filled the air, panic was everywhere, the murderous archers grabbed their own bows and sought the killer

The first of five took an arrow straight into his eye socket and hit the grown in a violent slam, terrified the hunters seen the cloak first before the bones, and they knew, they knew it was him and they will die here.

Second archer receives an arrow into his chest and is slammed into a tree, blood coughs from his mouth.

The third tries to run, the first arrow tears out his knee and he collapses into the dirt, the second punctures his temple and he slides across the bloody ground.

The fourth takes a shot, that is split in two by the arrow of the vengeful spirit, and it gouges his throat into his spinal cord that is then split in two and the force rips the flesh from his neck and head, leaving him decapitated.

The fifth, drops to his knees and begs and pleas for his life, he apologizes for what he did as tears escape his eyes, his face covered in the blood of his friends, a quick"zzzzooot" whistles through the air and the arrow pierces his forehead.

As the last soul perishes and the sun rises on the village, the dead marksman vanishes into the air, the village lays in silence with the blood and carnage.

Now and then, adventurers plundering caves or walking about the night, say they witness a strange skeleton bearing a black cloak as dark as shadows, simply watching them from a distance and if they get too close it hails them with a fury of arrows that are terrifyingly accurate...