It had been a long time.
...A heavily robed figure trudges slowly...carefully...down an ancient set ot stairs, deeper and deeper into darkness. The figure picks his way through the rubble strewn about the staircase carefully, deliberately, almost as if this being had been here before....
A very long time, it turns out. Places, people, resources, and enemies alike...all gone into dust.
...For this one had been here before, almost one hundred years past, this wretched tower once belonging to the mighty Conclave. Now, fallen into ruin.
Reaching a door at the bottom of the stairwell and raising a heavily gloved hand, the figure rasps a word of power...
Not that such change is a bad thing. Many of the enemies were far greater than he, their demise gave him great pleasure.
...and proceeds to wait for a few moments. Speaking the word again, this time the figure gestures more vigorously, making additional passes and signs in the air in an ornate arcane tracery. Whereupon this also fails, the figure snorts in disdain and simply pushes the door, which falls off its hinges into a rotted mess...
Yet for the first time, and just for a fleeting moment, the lich Lim-Dul felt as if nothing he did mattered. That all this time he had simply spent spinning his wheels and growing old.
And so he sought to change that, seeking out this one of what few places remaining capable of the great works the lich sought. The Towers belonging to the Conclave were, once upon a time, places of great power and learning - their very construction channeling the mysterious forces of the universe into a pinnacle of power.
He hoped that some ghost of that greatness remained.
Entering the dark chamber, it seems that not everything had totally fallen into ruin. The conjury where he now stood still had its mystic symbols of precious metals intact in the floor and walls, and with his remaining supply of personal resources...
...hissing another word of magic, a small chest of beaten wood shimmers into existence next to his robed self...
...He should be able to at least attempt one final act of ambition.
The best part of all of this was that this time, this final time, there would be no one left to stop him. Everyone that troubled and plagued his great plans in the past were now either dead or dying, or else considered that he himself had been defeated long ago and was no longer a concern...
Yet this time, time itself would serve as his greatest defense: his ultimate shield. And for what he planned to do, should it succeed...
...Thoughts of power, unlimited power fill the lich's mind...
He would finally have what he sought, desired, and deserved for so very long....
...A heavily robed figure trudges slowly...carefully...down an ancient set ot stairs, deeper and deeper into darkness. The figure picks his way through the rubble strewn about the staircase carefully, deliberately, almost as if this being had been here before....
A very long time, it turns out. Places, people, resources, and enemies alike...all gone into dust.
...For this one had been here before, almost one hundred years past, this wretched tower once belonging to the mighty Conclave. Now, fallen into ruin.
Reaching a door at the bottom of the stairwell and raising a heavily gloved hand, the figure rasps a word of power...
Not that such change is a bad thing. Many of the enemies were far greater than he, their demise gave him great pleasure.
...and proceeds to wait for a few moments. Speaking the word again, this time the figure gestures more vigorously, making additional passes and signs in the air in an ornate arcane tracery. Whereupon this also fails, the figure snorts in disdain and simply pushes the door, which falls off its hinges into a rotted mess...
Yet for the first time, and just for a fleeting moment, the lich Lim-Dul felt as if nothing he did mattered. That all this time he had simply spent spinning his wheels and growing old.
And so he sought to change that, seeking out this one of what few places remaining capable of the great works the lich sought. The Towers belonging to the Conclave were, once upon a time, places of great power and learning - their very construction channeling the mysterious forces of the universe into a pinnacle of power.
He hoped that some ghost of that greatness remained.
Entering the dark chamber, it seems that not everything had totally fallen into ruin. The conjury where he now stood still had its mystic symbols of precious metals intact in the floor and walls, and with his remaining supply of personal resources...
...hissing another word of magic, a small chest of beaten wood shimmers into existence next to his robed self...
...He should be able to at least attempt one final act of ambition.
The best part of all of this was that this time, this final time, there would be no one left to stop him. Everyone that troubled and plagued his great plans in the past were now either dead or dying, or else considered that he himself had been defeated long ago and was no longer a concern...
Yet this time, time itself would serve as his greatest defense: his ultimate shield. And for what he planned to do, should it succeed...
...Thoughts of power, unlimited power fill the lich's mind...
He would finally have what he sought, desired, and deserved for so very long....