| abstract | - In the Middle Ages, revenants were legendary animated corpses which rose from the grave to haunt the living. Many stories were documented by English historians in the Middle Ages, as exemplified by William of Newburgh who wrote in the 1190s "one would not easily believe that corpses come out of their graves and wander around, animated by I don't know what spirit, to terrorize or harm the living, unless there were many cases in our times, supported by ample testimony".
- Revenants, or mummers, are individuals who have been infected by slaver wasps. They are thus servants of the Other, forced to obey the Other's command voice. There is no known cure. Note: This page, which identifies individuals who have been or can be forced to contravene their own loyalties and best interests could be considered especially spoiler-prone.
- Revenants are known to use all three types of the combat triangle. Therefore, it is near impossible to take no damage from them, unless the Forinthry brace is used. When attacking, Revenants will try to exploit the weakness of your player. For example, if a player uses a rune full helm, magic shieldbow, blue d'hide body, blue d'hide chaps and blue d'hide vambraces, it makes the player weak to melee attacks. Therefore, Revenants will attempt to use melee attacks if they are able to reach the player, otherwise they will use the same attack they used to attack the player. Revenants will also focus on your Prayers. For example, if a player who uses melee gear uses magic protection prayers (to avoid being hit by the magic attack), the Revenant will avoid using that attack, and will focus on using their ranged or melee attack on the player instead.
- When in doubt, consult the wisdom of elders... Unfortunately in the case that befalls the newest liege of fallen Light's Reach, Healer of the fallen Council, and Grand Mistress-turned Master of the disbanded Order of the Flame, the elders had been turned to dust, leaving spirits of memory in their place. A silent sort of company. But here they sit together, the duchess perched with poise and elegance of her station atop the Grand Master's throne, Acumen resting with beauty atop her crown. Why? The duchess was bored. And so, sitting here, feeling for the first time the feather weight of the circlet over her brow, Rowena can dwell on conflicting matters, can think of what work lay ahead. And perhaps playfully in girlish fashion imagine herself in that fairytale position of power and grace that she now embodies. From beyond the shadowed misty swirls of the cold night that envelops Fastheld beyond the internal warmth of the Sheltered Flame Keep enters one more spirit to the somewhat macabre council. His pace is somewhat quieter than usual, it seems; a certain clink missing from each step which is noticeable by sheer virtue of its absence as the Prince of the Blood, Serath Kahar, swiftly strolls into the Grand Room - a living revenant among ghosts. The black veins of the white marble forever still beneath his feet, Serath seems to slow in step as he finds and then notices his quarry, and her position (and, indeed, choice of dress) within this echo of former Mikin glory; the chainmailed hand and blazing torch crest of the fallen Order a surreal sight indeed as it reflects upon the polished floor. His own reflection but a mere shadow by comparison, clad in charcoal as he is. "Rowena?" he asks, curiously, "What are you doing?" Exposed on her pedestal now that the eyes of the living have entered the room, Rowena's left with of course no options to hide in the empty space. Frozen atop the dais, she adjusts her grip over the arms of the chair, rings clinking in fidgety fashion. A small, shy smile is offered in explanation and she lifts a finger to point at the glass wreath. "The Baron saw it to completion...a gift, as he called it. I was testing the fit, is all." Nodding to punctuate her sentence, she averts her eyes a bit sheepishly and gestures to either of the Champions of the Flame chairs that flank her feet. "You're welcome to join me, of course..." The Wildcat walks now, attempting to evaluate the situation before him as he moves towards his Duchess, crystal ice-blue eyes frosted with concern. Lonely footsteps echo across the marble floor. "The Baron?" he queries, his gloved hands lingering upon his belt where the hilts of two weapons should be, but apparently are not. "If you ever wondered how my brother felt every day, and why it scares me," he offers, "Now you know." Rowena cocks a brow to this and examines the chair around her with a couple tilts of the head. Smiling playfully though with an essence of something more serious in her eyes, she pats the arm rests. "I find little to fear in this. It's quite comfortable, actually." A little sigh is issued forth and she dips her chin forward, nodding to his person. "Unlike much of your plated second skin...though I see it is lacking a bit of the usual ornamentation. Why is this?" The smooth whispering of silk echoes her inquiry as she stands and ebony pools over the tips of red slippers. "Leather." Serath remarks, playfully matter-of-factly, ascending the two-level dais beyond the first to take up a position by Rowena's side, sitting himself down on the edge of the step that her throne sits upon, looking over the hall itself in turn. He looks quite happy, all told. "With some ringmail underneath it. Don't know it until you try it; it's more comfortable than you think. You know, from here, Fastheld isn't all that high up. From the Imperial Throne, Fastheld seems higher than the Aegis, and you're perched on the very edge with very little to keep you from falling, and nothing to catch you when you land." He seems to have bypassed a certain question. Feet stilled by his now seated side, Rowena reaches out with her hand and lays it gently over the top of his head. Gazing ahead at the rows of chairs opposite the vaulted chamber, she strokes once down through his hair. "There has always been one to catch you, Serath. Even if she may be crushed in the process...." She looks down now to him, glimmers of worriment in her stare. Her lips part to speak; breath caught, but close again as she thinks better of it. The fingers return to their mounted position and come to rest there. "Your visit was well timed...I'd been hoping to catch your ear soon." "You're planning on going on Thayndor Zahir's jaunt beyond the Aegis." The Wildcat states in that usual purr of soft regality, answering the question before it's spoken and then offering an opinion that should have come much later in turn. "I think it's a bad idea," he adds, "And though I won't stop you from going, I will warn you that I won't be able to come with you." His gaze remains on the wall opposite the one behind the throne, as if expecting someone to come through at any moment. Silent for a moment, having clearly not anticipated his knowledge of said discussion with the Zahir, Rowena closes her eyes and lowers her face with submissive acknowledgement of her own foolishness to herself. "Perhaps the Count located Vhramis afterall... unless you've power to read thoughts through time." Tone taut, she removes her hand from his head and steps down from the dais altogether. Evenly-spaced steps bear her across towards the door - it had been left ajar. And with a crack...comes an awful draft. "I did not agree to accompany them. Not yet. It is true that my presence at least as far as Crown's Refuge would be of benefit...but there are many journeys left to finish here. Had Alieron still stood in my stead, I would have been free to venture thus. But he does not. And I am not." Words quaking on that final note, she stands before the door, grips it firmly with both hands, and YANKS. The dull thud echoes throughout the chamber, resonating until there's only silence. "He did," Serath offers in regards to Rowena's initial musing. "And I don't." he adds to answer the one that follows it. Still sat next to the throne, he states these two facts only after the silence has claimed the Grand Hall in that same tone of voice that has been with him through the greatest of joys and the deepest of sorrows in equal measure. Compassionate, reasoning, unjudgmental, and utterly efficacious. "As for Alieron, he wasn't the bastion of solidity you might remember him to be, Row. Which is why a great many things are as they are today; some of the worse, some for the better. House Mikin won't fall apart if you're not here for a few weeks. It didn't the last time, and I'll make sure it doesn't again." It would be longer than a few weeks. He won't turn back until he finds the source of the...thing." Using the door as a sturdy enough object to lean her forehead against, Rowena tips her head forward to do so...until Acumen clinks in protest. Whoops! Jerking her head upright, she removes it carefully from her hair and turns it over in her hands. "What is it I'm really going to achieve here, in this place?" Watching a distorted reflection of a reddened eye in the lapping glass flames, she snorts softly. "I know not how to assemble an 'army'. I've planned best I could the divisions to patrol the various Mikin holdings, but... truly. What men have I to fill the sabatons? Armond. The loyal ten who have followed me from West Bluff. Adaer... should I choose to induct him. And the refugees.. .those amongst them who are not afraid, that is. And they've had much to fear." The circlet is lowered, cradled protectively against her belly and she lets her bare brow at last come to rest on its desired support. "And then there is the enigma that is you...the mystery that I chase, and yet, understand less and less. Where now, are your two companions?" "I gave them to Vhramis." the Prince states with a sincerity that denies all suspicion of misdirected truth or aspersion, sat as he is - hands resting upon his knees - besides a now empty throne. "He seemed to need them more I do, and they seemed to have lost much of the value that others see in them, for some reason." The Wildcat offers a hint of a 'what can you do?' shrug and smile, falling silent for a moment before picking up the threads of conversation. "And there's more to House Mikin than this Keep and the shattered remains of Light's Reach, Rowena. Southwatch is small is maintains a position of importance not far from here. Light's Crossing has flourished and grows larger every day now it has a secure trade link with Hawk's Aerie. In the north, Wedgecrest shines as a diamond of Mikin prowess and resourcefulness. I also hear that the Mikin areas of Wildcat's Landing continue to prosper, maintaining the lowest rate of crime in all of Fastheld." There are more Nobles than yourself, my Duchess, to carry the Mikin torch forward - and if not, then you still have me and all of House Kahar behind you. Not to mention the Light itself." "Wedgecrest and Light's Crossing will be guarded by Trastar's Order, while Light's Reach and Southwatch kept safe under the eyes of the Order of the Flame...order. Of knights, that is. This much I have decided." Pausing, Rowena lifts her head from the moped stance and looks to him questioningly o'er her shoulder. "You gave them to Vhramis...does this mean that the bulk of this cat's prowling days have come to close? Or have the blades merely been replaced by this new found...talent." Gesturing with her hands the shape of a ball, then 'exploding' it, she moves away from the door and slowly back to him and her former perch. "What is it now that this Wildcat, kissed by the Sun, will do with the rest of his days?" The Wildcat shakes his head a little; an amused smile caressing his features. "Each House shall only be permitted one Noble Order of Knights, my Mongoose." he offers by way of Council, "Restricted to twenty men or women who shall, in turn, be supported by Guard Militia stationed in each Township under the influence of that Noble House. My own words, though not quite as written." He waves a hand to dismiss his line of thought, but continues regardless, "You know how those Imperial documents go. It's all grandiose and far more complicated or elaborate than necessary. But those Nobles like their big words, I'll give them that. As for this Wildcat..." Serath falls silent as he contemplates that. "I'm still on the prowl. It's just more complicated these days. When I'm with you, that's my time off. You're the clarity in the middle of the storm." "One Order can be divided into two groups, one for each district as it makes little sense for all twenty to scurry back and forth across the realm...but I digress." Seeking no argument here, Rowena placidly climbs the dais again and sits the circlet to rest in her place on the throne. She'd have to remember its placing, later, for what a dreadful thing to sit upon. Sinking to sit alongside him on the marble, Rowena wishes that maybe she'd eaten a few more of those sweets before Athara swooped into the picture. Silk did little in the ways of padding. "You worry me...this talk of storms, complications. What is it you must do that others cannot? Cannot aid you in, at least, to lessen the burden. I miss having you here." Serath taps his right hand upon his right knee once or twice by way of contemplation; not of what he could say, but if he will in fact say it. However, it *is* Rowena that sits by his side, and the decision is not a difficult one to make. "What if I were to tell you," the Wildcat offers in hushed tones, an affectionate gaze now placed upon his beloved Mongoose, silks and all, "That Kas'arath - the Ravager - was not what one might understand to actually BE the Ravager?" Well, the answer was simple enough. Rowena would be confused, that's what. Again. "If the Ravager did not 'ravage' our towns in accordance to the name we had given it, then what be the Ravager true? Regardless of its name, the creature is finished...hence the rise of the Instrumentalist." Or so it made sense. Shifting her weight more to one hip, she shoulders the edge of the chair's seat and rests her head lightly on the cushion to look at him with scrutiny. There are a few painful moments of silence that flow in the wake of Rowena's reasoning until Serath finally speak again. "Sera'tharalax doesn't think that's the case." he offers upon the back of an very uneasy sigh. "The way I understand it, Kas'arath - the Ravager - and Aisha'taria - the Dragoness they found under Halo - weren't true Drakes in the way you and I are. You have to think of them as illusions made flesh; avatars of their true forms. From what I'm told, they were in conflict to resolve who would return "here" in living, breathing creatures once more. Thankfully Kalath'aria's avatar won that duel, and this Kalath'aria returned to Fastheld in her true form. Had Kas'arath won... well, then I don't think Fastheld would be much more than dust and memory right now." "But it /was/ resolved...you've said it yourself. What then, is there more to do in the matter? Aside from moving on, that is." With eyebrows knit together closely, Rowena extends a hand in search of his own. "/That/ is the main reason I hesitate to breach the Aegis a second time. It would mean being parted from you again...for an eternity, should the expedition go poorly. But I intend to send another in my place, if she will go. Her life has seen children grown and gone...and her chapter draws to an end. But mine has many more pages to be writ. To continue with life and dwell less on the past sorrows. You should do the same." Offering a soft, warm smile of sadness, she inhales deeply the cold air before letting it leak slowly back out from her lungs. "What more ties then, do you have to this talk of Drakes?" The level and even look that Serath now places upon Rowena speaks more of the sincerity of the words that are to follow than any tone of voice or proof of reasoning could ever hope to accomplish. "Xil'varath is trying to come back." True, the name Xil'varath was not one known in her vocabulary, but Rowena is wise enough to discern from his sudden note of severity that who/whatever this Xil'varatharatharax was, his or her coming was not a welcomed event. And so it is that her head lifts, posture straightens, and knees curl aside so that she may meet his stare more evenly herself. With a childlike whisper, she grasps a gloved hand. "But this is a war between Drakes and bodies so much larger than our own...the Church failed to fend it off last time. Surely your place in this is not to confront the creature." "Kas'arath was but a measure of Xil'varath's true power," Serath whispers, speaking as if he'd witnessed such horrors first hand even though the DragonLich's reign was what one might assume to have been far into the past. "Sera'tharalax gave her life when Xil'varath was a living creature to entrap him the first time, and Kalath'aria did the same during the Cataclysm, but Sera has reason to think that this "Cult" that the Imperial Watch have been running into from time to time is more than just a fetish of bored Noblemen and dreamless Freelanders." Rowena's hand in his own, he smiles and gives her a squeeze of reassurance, "But you're right: Mine is not to confront him, because I wouldn't do so much as give him pause to consider my actions. Time is something we have on our side; Xil'varath's last major chance to return was foiled by Zolor Zahir, believe it or not, and getting back to "here" from "there" is apparently not that easy." A pause, another smile, and Serath leans over to gently kiss Rowena, affection and comfort deep within the core of that regal purr as he pulls away. "Fastheld is currently an Empire of darkness. The Light is but a candle amidst the overwhelming depths of night, with the even the Church of True Light too blind to see where they're going. As it stands, if Xil'varath *were* to find a way back, there would be little to stop him. My ties are with the Light, Rowena: I plan on bringing it to back to the people of this realm." "All of these things of which you speak are well beyond my knowing..." Rowena murmurs, head tilting after the kiss to rest against his shoulder. "But if it is as you say... then bring it back to them you shall. The Light kept by your side in the face of death's darkness... and so it is your ally. It is just as I had prayed." Breathing in the faint scent of the outdoors that seemed to follow him eternally, at least by her nose' judgment, Rowena rights her head a few moments later and returns the kiss with a bit more lingering. "You are still my Serath... and that is all I need know." But ever remains the haunting depths of solemn understanding in her eyes, amidst the flecks of green. What need be known was not always what was in fact known, or what was feared would be made known.
- Being undead, revenants are susceptible to the effects of the salve amulet and its enchanted version. Revenants are known for their generous drop table, due to being in the Wilderness, where the player is at risk of being killed by other players in a multicombat area. Each revenant shares the same drop table. The higher levelled revenants have a better chance of dropping other rewards. Occasionally, a very rare roll can be performed which multiplies specific drops by 100, resulting in a valuable reward. Revenants drop ancient emblems, ancient totems, and ancient statuettes, which can be sold to the Emblem Trader wandering within the Revenant Caves for coins. However, this can only be done in World 318, the official Bounty Hunter world. Revenants always drop some revenant ether, which is used to charge a bracelet of ethereum (which they also drop) to protect the player from a revenant's attacks, and also makes them tolerant towards the player. They also drop ancient crystals, four of which are used to construct an obelisk in the superior garden of a player-owned house.
- Revenants er undead versjoner av skapninger drept i Guds kriger, og er blant de farligste typen av monstre i RuneScape. Ordet revenant kommer fra fransk og latinsk ord som betyr "tilbake." Revenants kan bli funnet flytende fritt i ulike deler av Wilderness angripe enhver spiller uheldig nok til å møte en, om de ikke vises på PvP verdener. De teller som vandøde, slik at elementer som Salve Amulet vil fungere. Crumble Undead fungerer bare på lavere flatet revenants, som visse høy flatet de har høy magi forsvar.Fil:Hd_revenant_werewolf.png i caven du går i for å drepe revenants nå, er det ikke multicombat så du kan bare ta med deg banken din vis du vil
- Revenants is the first episode of Red vs. Blue: Season 10 and the 203rd episode overall. It aired on May 28th, 2012.
- There is a gun in his hands. AR-15 automatic rifle (his mind supplies automatically), standard issue for new Agents or emergency armament, fairly new, pretty battered. He's familiar with this one, and likes it: it feels much more important than the others he's fired. Right now he's field-stripping it with practiced ease, and— He freezes, his hands jerking in sudden horror. He is field-stripping a rifle, and he knows how to shoot it. He's never held a gun in his life! How— “Fifty-five, Jim.” The voice comes from his left. Jim snaps his head around to stare, wildly, at the source. Ragged brown hair, a crumpled lab coat. It's Madeline, Dr. Madeline Vogler, of all people, sitting beside him on the park bench and cleaning her own gun with the same swift, automatic movements. She hasn't looked up. ”What?” he squeaks. “Madeline, what are you doing? You can’t handle a gun, you’re an engineer, you’ve never shot one in your life! What’s happening?” “Oh-fifty-five.” She cuts him off dully, glancing up from her work. Her gray eyes are dull, bruised with tiredness, and the fine lines on her brow were never that deep. The lab coat is a half-shredded montage of stains, and the name embroidered above the breast pocket isn’t hers. “Remember agreeing that something wasn’t round?” Oh. He nearly chokes. SCP-055 certainly isn’t round; Madeline and her team had confirmed it. It took them months, and many rounds of negation, but they learned a few important facts. The thing can’t be remembered, not even indirectly, except for what it isn’t. It isn’t alive. It isn’t safe — oh, God, it’s not safe! And it isn’t contained… It isn’t contained any more. And Jim doesn’t remember very much of his recent history. Panic floods Jim as he realizes what this means. How long has it been since he remembers doing anything? How long has it been since he’s formed a lasting memory — since he was doing something that didn’t involve 055? Too long, he thinks. Madeline is a gaunt, ravaged shadow; he’s not much better, he decides, looking down to take in his own frame. It takes a while to lose that much sleep. Some of the scars — new scars — must have taken weeks to heal. And when did he learn to shoot a gun, least of all this gun? Now that he allows himself to look at it closely, warily accepting that he’s familiar with such things, he can tell that even by Foundation standards it is not a normal weapon. The firing mechanism has been replaced with a jerry-rigged tangle of circuitry, fiberglass, crystals, and something like flower petals. There's something else at the base of the trigger; he squints at it, decides that it isn't important, and passes over it. The magazine is entirely too heavy and too blue, and it sloshes. He forces himself to nod, finally answering Madeline’s question. “What are we doing here? With the guns, and…” here he gestures vaguely at the strange mechanism, “that? On this bench, of all places?” “I don't remember — ” and her eyes snap shut, pain flickering across her face — “but you said that I'd said that you'd… Never mind. You said we had to shoot something, and that we’d know what, when it was time.” “I said? What about Agent Segel?” But the moment the name leaves his mouth, he knows. Madeline's look of bemused grief only confirms it. “She didn't make it, did she?” “No. Nobody did.” “Chen? Alex? Araya?” Madeline only shakes her head. “Kyle? At least tell me Kyle's okay? Damn!” He knows his voice is rising in anguish, and his eyes are blurring. His entire team — the entire staff of the Site? All of them? “Nobody.” Madeline's eyes are suspiciously bright, too, but she hasn't taken them off her work. “Jim, we can't talk about it now.” “But—” “Shut up and let me explain!” Her fingers clench somewhere inside her gun. “We have to finish what we're doing and be ready when it gets here. I'm going to forget everything again in another minute or two, and you'll have to tell me, all right? There's no one else left to do it.” That does quiet him. He looks back down at the half-disassembled gun in his lap. It needs to be put back together, now that he’s cleaned it. His hands seem to know what to do; he starts sliding the pieces into each other. She lets out a breath, going back to her own work. “Okay. We’re in the park on the other side of Springfield from the Site. We don’t want to go back there; I don’t know why. There’s nobody else in town, maybe nobody in the state. We’ve got supplies to last a few weeks stashed in the bushes next to you. We have to keep these guns in good condition, make sure the crystals don’t tarnish and the petals stay alive, spend as much time on this bench as we can, and always be ready to attack. Got it?” “That’s all?” “All you said last time, yeah.” Jim nods numbly. “Madeline?” he asks after a moment. “How long has it been?” “A few weeks, I think. Long enough. My oldest scars are at least that old, and I haven’t got anything newer than a week.” Jim’s own body bears out her assessment: he’s got a few new aches, but nothing pressing. He considers them, looking up into the sky as he works. Their bench sits at the edge of an open athletic field, with summer-lush woods behind, but there are no birds. A football lies abandoned, one end crumpled inward, a few yards away. “How long will we be waiting?” “As long as we need to.” She finishes reassembling her gun and hefts it briefly. There is something brittle and flinty in her movements. “I don’t really know.” Another pause. Jim stills his hands, resting them on his knees. The park’s stillness is a lead weight against his temples. “And we’re the last ones?” “Maybe. As far as we know.” Madeline won’t meet his eyes. “Then this could be futile. 055 could already have won.” Madeline whips around to glare at him, her whole posture suddenly lit with desperate ferocity. “Don’t!” she snaps. “Don’t talk like that! We can’t think like that! We don’t know anything else we can be doing — for Christ’s sake, Jim, we can’t remember ten minutes ago. We could be the last thing keeping the world alive, for all you know!” “Okay!” He pulls his head back as if struck, raising his hands. “Okay. We’ll stay. As long as we need to.” “As long as we need to.” She gives a firm, sharp nod, a peck from a raptor beak. Jim doesn’t dare contradict her. Then she nods again, softer, and suddenly uncertain. Again, barely moving her head, staring around herself in sudden confusion. “Jim? What the — What are we doing here?” Jim’s throat clenches tight, stopping his voice and breath. She’s forgotten again. Just as he will, in another few minutes. “055, Madeline. Remember agreeing that something wasn’t round?”
- Normaal gesproken zijn Revenants gevaarlijker dan dat hun combat level aanwijst en waarschijnlijker dan vele andere monsters. Revenants kunnen aanvallen met alle drie de aanval skills: Ranged, Magic en Melee. De Revenant kan alleen aanvallen met melee als de Revenant voor een speler staat. Revenants gebruiken vaak hun magic of ranged aanvallen om spelers van een afstand te raken. De meest voorkomende zijn daarom de magic en de ranged aanvallen, die spelers kunnen bevriezen en ervoor zorgen dat zij niet meer kunnen teleporteren. Hun ranged aanvallen kunnen gebruikt worden van een langere afstand dan magic en zijn extreem krachtig dan dat hun combat level aanduidt. De meeste Revenants, behalve de lage-level Revenants, kunnen wel tot 200 schade aanbrengen aan een speler per aanval. Een Revenant is altijd aan te horen door zijn aanval en is makkelijk te herkennen. Revenants kunnen ook onderscheiden worden in member Revenants en gratis spelers Revenants. Wanneer Revenants aanvallen zullen ze snel de zwakheid van de speler aanvallen. Als een speler bijvoorbeeld een melee armour draagt, zal de Revenant dan met een magic aanval aanvallen. Deze strategie wordt echter niet altijd gebruikt door Revenants, maar komt wel vaak voor. Als spelers een protect prayer tegen een Revenant opzetten, zal de Revenant ophouden met die aanval en een andere aanval gebruiken. Hoewel hun teleblock (magic) en bevriezen (ranged) kan tegengehouden worden met prayer, zullen Revenants vaak doorgaan met deze aanval. Revenants hebben de mogelijkheid om zichzelf te genezen wanneer hun levens punten laag zijn. Dit kan met een grote aantal levens punten voorkomen. Als dit gebeurd zullen ze eten tijdens het gevecht en zal er een bepaald geluid te horen dat aanduidt dat een Revenant eet. Ook kunnen ze zichzelf genezen van een vergiftiging. Hoewel de Revenant niet meer de speler aanvalt als de Revenant eet, kunnen andere monsters de speler aanvallen, waardoor het een mogelijkheid is om van de Revenant af te komen. Als spelers in de Wildernis een obelisk gebruiken, hebben Revenants de mogelijkheid om mee te teleporteren, in tegenstelling tot andere monsters. De enige obstakel dat een Revenant kan tegenhouden is bijvoorbeeld een gesloten deur in een gebouw. Echter zal dit niet altijd werken want op verschillende locaties kunnen Revenants door de deur heen zweven, maar dit komt echter niet vaak voor. Pas op! revenants kunnen in het dark warriors fortress soms trappen beklimmen. Revenants kunnen spelers aanvallen, ook al zijn ze aan het vechten met andere monsters in een één tegen één gebied.
- Revenants were skeletal corpses that had been animated and possessed by powerful hylden. Revenants were a common enemy of Raziel in Legacy of Kain: Defiance.
- Revenants are located in throughout the wilderness. They are also great to grind if you have Chaotics or a Sir Owen's Sword and looking to make starting money as they drop PvP Weapons/Armour, Dragon Armour/Weapons, and also a large amount of runes. As of a recent update revenant hunting has become a lot less frequent because they now have the ability to Teleblock and Freeze you. The preferred method of killing Revenants is by using Melee and equipping dragon hide armour.
- The Revenants were a military unit, commanded by an outlawed Seguleh, whose initial purpose had been to drive the Malazans out of One Eye Cat. Sweetest Sufferance's grandfather had been a warrior in the Revenants. Their patron god was Hood. It was widely thought that the entire company was taken by Hood, himself, to serve in the realm of the dead. Sweetest Sufferance's grandfather had told Sweetest (when she was a child) that he had been a warrior in the Revenants.
- You can use the box below to create new pages for this mini-wiki. preload=Revenants/preload editintro=Revenants/editintro width=25
- Revenants are killed for their extremely valuable Ancient Warriors' equipment, as they can be upgraded from tier 78 to tier 88 with an ancient warriors' equipment patch. They also drop corrupt dragon equipment, tier 60 armour and weapons which are the strongest for free players. Other drops include Ancient artefacts and Corrupt Ancient Warriors' equipment. Higher levelled revenants are more likely to drop these items, though the drop rate is still very low for all revenants. Revenant drops are unaffected by luck tiers, so do not bother bringing rings to increase the drop rate. There are only two ways to increase the drop rate of revenant items; completion of the Wilderness Tasks which gives a 5% increased chance for revenant drops, and the Revenant drop enhancer, which gives 10%. As revenants are classified as ghosts, they count towards ghost Slayer assignments. Some may also double for other tasks, depending on the revenant in question. A Salve amulet and its enchanted version also work against them. Slaying at least one of every type of revenant is a requirement for one of the elite Wilderness Tasks.
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