No Rest For The Wicked

Rest for a Lich is something completely foreign to most mortals, even those stricken with vampirism require sleep but unlike such individuals, Liches are true undead, they cannot sleep, eating of food is wasteful and meditation is impossible.

Instead, in order to rest, a lich must spread their consciousness thin across their domain, normally a Lich can look through the eyes of any one of their creations, but when one attempts the same act upon thousands of their subjects, their perception of the world is cut short, instead of seeing and hearing everything, they perceive nothing more then faint, jumbled noises, flitting glances of hundreds of places spliced together in a strange tapestry of places and things beyond reach. In essence, a dream.

Such a state is required for a Lich to mentally unpack recent events, to lighten the burden of everlasting life, everlasting cognition. To neglect this ritual is to invite madness as the mind is bombarded by too much knowledge over the course of too long a period.

During such periods, The Lich is in a state similar to a coma within mortals, completely deadened to the world around them, not hearing, seeing or feeling anything at all. Thus such rituals are best kept brief.

Upon pulling back the icy tendrils of her mind, her immediate surroundings fade into being, once more Wendara is alert and ready for the burdens of power.

Not far from the throne of crystal is The Seneschal, hovering in place, staring at Wendara with the vacant pits of its eyes.

“Report” Wendara speaks, informing her servant of her cognizance, prompting the many voiced servitor to speak.

“We have received messages sent from what remains of your subjects located within Satastaren, the images and sounds are fragmented due to such a large distance, but we have been able to decipher that House Velora has begun work on large scale project” Says the Seneschal, its million voices dead and lifeless, speaking exclusively in cold, logical facts.

“I require further detail, Seneschal” While house Velora has been cryptic in the past, they’ve never been deceitful, but Lichdom brings with it a healthy paranoia where concerns creatures that could actually threaten an immortal being.

“As we have stated, the information is fragmented and distorted, all we know for certain is that the project involves cutting the tether between soul and body, the streets are filled with unusable corpses with no spirit to pilot them, the ends of such means remain unknown”

Wendara knows little about such rituals but it seems to line up with the promise Elida had made in the throne room of Satastaren, but even still, eyes and ears in friendly territory keep honest creatures honest, in Wendara’s experience.

“Very well, monitor the condition of my minions within the region, we require eyes on this development” states the Lich Queen, wrapping skeletal fingers along the arm rests on her throne, creating a small clinking chime that resonates throughout the room.

“We hear and obey, Mistress” says the skull, bobbing its head down as though it were bowing.

“There is still the matter of Mistress Devora, she has grown increasingly insistent that she see you right away”

“Send her in, let us see what is so important” says Wendara with a rising sense of agitation.

Vampires are always an irksome matter as they are a form of undead that a Lich has no direct power over, they are only TRULY loyal to their sire or matron, however they are an indispensable tool to any Lich Queen and so it is by necessity that the Lich Queens indulge them and their petty ‘feelings’ much to Wendara’s chagrin.

The Seneschal disappears into the gloom of the palace once more, followed shortly behind by the approaching clicking of heels against tile.

Lady Quinos Devora is the head matron of all vampires within House Aldori’s territories and as such she carry’s herself the demeanor not dissimilar to a Lich Queen, every step a declaration of superiority, her posture speaking of pedigree and her clothes far surpassing the quality most human nobles could afford.

In her right hand she holds a cane, bejeweled and gilded with precious metals, to look at it, one might think it a petty accessory, but in truth it encapsulates the source of her power within the vampire caste.

Hidden within the cane is a blade, and not one of iron or steel, but of silver, one she uses to punish thralls that draw her ire, creating cuts that will never truly heal on the vampires face, chest and neck, marring the once pristine landscape, a source of great pride among their kind.

As she approaches the crystalline throne of the Lich Queen, her proud posture breaks as she leans forward in a small bow. “Welcome home, my liege, while I hate to disturb you, I fear this issue has extended beyond the abilities of the Seneschal” She says, her words saccharine and soft.

“The necromancers among our rank have grown… quarrelsome.. as was decided long ago, they’d be permitted to stay and study the properties of the Deadlands in exchange for monthly payments of blood to sate me and my kin and be of service to your designs, however only one of those duties is being fulfilled, they have not given so much as a drop of blood since your absence” she says, her voice prim and proper, but her eyes tell the story of a ravenous beast that’s gone too long without sating its profane appetite.

“I would be happy to conduct a harvest of what is owed but alas I fear that doing so myself would be considered an act of aggression, not a collection of what’s owed…” the implication is clear, without handling this matter personally, a feud will spark into a full blown civil war.

The vampires, powerful as they are, are outnumbered 20 to 1; losses will be a certainty, and as these bickering children wrestle over the same porcelain doll, the damage they will wreak will fall on the Lich Queens shoulders.

“Your point is made, I will settle this matter myself” though she is far above petty mortal emotions, she can’t help but feel frustration as she rises from her throne, the vampire having long since crept back into the gloom of the palace.

The cultists are scattered throughout the Necropolis of Drell studying the air, soil and undead that wander the desolate streets, but they most commonly congregate around the center of town, where sits the second most important point of interest in the necropolis.

Where once a statue of some long dead hero stood is now a mighty tree made from pristine bone that stretches to the sky and claws are the stars that dare to shine through the murk of the Deadlands, scattered at seemingly random intervals are small nooks not unlike the ones you might find in a tree, many of the openings being occupied by a lone skull, cleansed of flesh, they stare eternally out from their resting place, a pale green light residing where their brains once sat.

The pillar of bone; each necropolis must have one for they are the repository for their masters knowledge, even a mind as powerful as a Lich Queen can only hold onto so much information.

Surrounding it on all sides are mortals, reckless scholars, fledgling necromancer sand would be undead examine, study or prey to the mighty tree.

Standing before a congregation is the closest thing to a leader within these disparate groups of mortals; Simon Carogol, as he speaks he waves his hand to the pillar of bone as though he were a priest giving mass.

“It won’t be long now brothers and sisters, the city states are crumbling, the forests burn and the mountains are collapsing, soon the old world will be gone, and in its wake will be paradise! The ones this world has taken from us will be returned! They will live again in eternal ****! Together we will be whole!” He shouts, his voice becoming frantic as he whips himself into a frenzy, his enthusiasm seemingly infectious as the group cheers, returning to their prayers with renewed vigor, hoping to glean some primordial truth from the fruits of the Lich Queens labor.

Several undead accompany Wendara as she approaches, as though drawn to her by a **** that cannot be understood, especially by such feeble minded creatures.

A chill creeps up the mortals spines as she draws near, turning they take in the sight of her, to some she’s an arcane marvel, to others she’s an instrument of change and to others still she is the very hand of the gods, an agent of fate. To all she is ruler, to all she is the master of these lands.

Simon falls upon his hands and knees before her, his face turned down to the old cobblestones as though fearing what might become of him if he looked into the eyes of god. “Your grace..! It’s an honor to share in your presence an-“

“Silence, Simon” she says, stopping his adulation before it can hit its stride.

“I have heard troubling, unfortunate things about you and your followers in my absence, that you haven’t been keeping your word..?” Asks the Lich Queen, her tone steady with a threatening undercurrent, one that might follow a violent, brutal outburst.

“Y… yes your grace you heard correct… we have not be granting the parasites the promised blood…” he says, voice shaken but determined, not passing up the opportunity to disparage the vampires even as he faces the consequences of his actions.

“And why might that be, I wonder… you knew what was expected of you, you did agree to it after all… it isn’t an inability to supply the material, it IS running through your own veins… so what am I to think Simon…?” The implication is clear.

“Your grace… if I may… we all know the importance of our pledge of loyalty… we’ve diligently followed your every command… we’ve whispered not a word of dissent in regards to your grace… b… but I cannot say the same for the parasites… they dishonor you, I’m certain that they plot against you in their fancy manors and keeps…”

“Those creatures are not of your same resplendent nature, they are animals, parasites that only seek to use you for their own gain… p.. please investigate them… I’m quite sure you’ll find I speak the truth..!” He begs, his fingers tightening against the cobbles, as though trying to rip them from the ground.

“Quite sure..? And if they truly aren’t hiding anything? What shall I do then?” The Lich Queen asks, her curiosity piqued as she looks down upon her prostrating worshipper.

“If… if they truly are hiding nothing… th.. then my life is yours, for they will have proven to be more faithful servants then I..” he says, shuddering at the mere thought.

“Very well Simon, I shall look into this matter, for your own sake you had better hope that I find something truly horrific, for this will have been the second instance of my time being wasted over your suspicions” Simon nods, bowing just a little bit deeper as the sound of bone clicking against stone trails away, The Lich Queen satisfied with his answers, at least for now.