the Ice Witch
Lissandra’s magic twists the pure power of ice into something dark and terrible. With the force of her black ice, she does more than freeze - she impales and crushes those who oppose her. To the terrified denizens of the north, she is known only as ”The Ice Witch.” The truth is much more sinister: Lissandra is a corruptor of nature who plots to unleash an ice age on the world.
Centuries ago, Lissandra betrayed her tribe to evil creatures, known as the Frozen Watchers, in return for power. That was the last day that warm blood ran through her veins. With her corrupted tribesmen and the strength of the Watchers, she swept across the land like a terrible blizzard. As her empire spread, the world grew colder and ice choked the land. When the Watchers were defeated by ancient heroes, Lissandra did not lose faith and swore to prepare the world for their return.
Lissandra worked to purge all knowledge of the Watchers from the world. Using magic to take human form, she masqueraded as numerous seers and elders. Over the course of generations, she rewrote the stories of the Freljord, and so the history of its people changed. Today the fragmented retellings of the Watchers are seen as children’s tales. But this deception wasn’t enough - Lissandra also needed an army.
She set her sights on the noble Frostguard tribe. Lissandra knew corrupting the Frostguard would take centuries, and so she launched her greatest deception. She murdered and stole the identity of the Frostguard leader. Then she slowly began to warp the tribe’s proud traditions. When her human form grew old, she faked her own death and then murdered her successor to steal her identity. With each generation, the Frostguard grew more insular, cruel and twisted. Today, the world still sees them as a noble and peaceful tribe that guards against evil creatures like the Ice Witch. In truth, they now serve the witch and long for the glorious return of the Watchers.
Lissandra knows that on that day nations will fall and the world will be reborn in ice.
”Close your eyes and let the cold take you.”
Hired Gun Lucian
little Anubis dude for Sketch Dailies! couldn’t resist.
I think the Egyptian is right? sšw mntw (“daily writings”) is a bit of a stretch, but it could be worse. :P
Sermon of the Dead
"Come closer, my children, let me look upon you. So many new faces, searching and uncertain. Many find their way to this consecrated land without knowing it to be their destination. But this pilgrimage was no accident; you have suffered, and you seek a convalescence of the spirit. Look around. You are not alone.
We are gathered here this day to mourn those lost to us. To weep, to wail, and cry out for those souls whom we hold so dear, yet who remain out of reach. Speak now and let them hear us. Let them hear our pain! Let them hear our anguish! Let them know in their hearts that they are not forgotten!
These pitiable creatures are pale reflections of ourselves, shrouded in a haze of false light, groping blindly for some scrap of meaning. Shackled to a hollow existence, they languish, unaware of what they are or what they could be. Every second, secretly begging for release.
My children, we are their shepherds. Only when they hear our voices do they stir. So call to them! Raise them up from their aimless stupor. Sing with all your longing, your hatred, your hunger! Fill their empty lives with dread; remind them of their inevitable mortality.
Go forth, you faithful, and offer these wretches freedom from life’s prison. Deliver unto them the word of death, and bring their wayward spirits home.
Death frees us all.”
Karthus the Deathsinger
Karthus is a terrible creature who was once a mortal so obsessed with death that he eagerly embraced the gift of undeath. Now in his unlife as a lich, Karthus is closer to his beloved grave than he ever imagined. He commands magic with oblivion as its source, and seeks to bring his grim truth to the rest of the world: only in death does life gain clarity and purpose.
Even as a boy, Karthus was different. There was a darkness within him that could not be denied. The young child clung to the shadows and shunned the company of others. He snuck into the funerals of strangers, and spoke to their tombstones in the cemetery. He sought out corpses of animals to preserve and memorialize them, creating a grim collection of morbid art. Karthus volunteered to tend to the sick and dying, though his intentions were not to help, but to closely witness the passing of those who were beyond help. Ultimately, he went so far as to elaborately stage his death, and he secretly observed his own funeral with intense fascination. When others discovered what Karthus had done, they were so shocked and disturbed that, in a way, he became truly dead to them. Karthus found himself fully rejected by the living.
His isolation only served to fuel his obsession. Karthus delved further into his exploration of death, and became fascinated by the legends of the Shadow Isles. There, it was said, the specters of the deceased continued on in unlife everlasting. Possessed by these tales, he knew he had to discover for himself if they were true. Journeying to those dreaded isles, Karthus soon found himself wandering through the mist, overcome by the surreal beauty of the place. He felt as if he had finally come home. He had always chased the elusive purity of the moment of death, when life passed and in a single instant achieved meaning. Karthus saw that undeath was like that moment, preserved in dread stillness forever. He had discovered his destiny, to cross over the veil and leave the living behind for eternity. Something awoke in the Shadow Isles that day, when Karthus did something no other creature had ever done: he willingly gave his life over to undeath. When he reentered the world, Karthus had become the embodiment of his own obsession. An undying lich with the keys to life and death, he seeks to bring his dark requiem to the world.
”There is no sweeter song than the last breath of the dying.”
scarecrow by TheBabman
The Chain Warden by adrusaurio
The Book of Vile Darkness
A Worm That Walks reads from The Book of Vile Darkness.
A Worm That Walks is a mage who has passed beyond the veil of death and reanimated in a swarm of slithering vermin. When a powerful mage with a strong will and an absolute desire to live dies, a strange phenomenon may occur. Hundreds of vermin consume the mage’s corpse utterly, taking the spellcaster’s body and soul into their own, and providing a new flesh. The now sentient mass of vermin is imbued with the mage’s memory and will, and form a roughly humanoid shape to walk the world again. The mage’s mind, however, is completely broken, driven mad by the memories of death and the fusion of the mind of its new host.
The Book of Vile Darkness is the definitive artifact of evil. Its cover is bound in demonic skin, its spine and binding are made from bone, and its words are inked in blood. It is a compendium of foul subjects, added to by every author whose hands it passes through, who have ranged from the Demon Prince of Necromancy, Orcus, to the Witch Queen Iggwilv. It includes a primer of the Lower Planes of existence, spells of necromancy and thaumaturgy, methods of torture, the nature of evil spirits, recipes for supernatural narcotics and poisons, the secret paths to initiation in fiendish cults, and the blueprints for other evil artifacts. The book’s very presence is corrupting, warping its owners body, and twisting their mind towards madness. Countless false copies exist across the world, but there is only one true Book of Vile Darkness.