Larie VysImiro

Adventurer Level: Membership Revoked

Half-Breed Lich - Unknown

"I thank you for your assistance," I said, turning toward the odd creature. "You are a very capable fighter."

Simeeth had excitedly called this thing a hew-man. The singular surviving kobold had been eager to tell me that he had learned a new word. I had congratulated him, but hadn't quite believed that he had met a member of an undiscovered race.

The human glanced at the orc and then back to me. I was expecting a reply of gratitude for the compliment that I paid it. Instead, its eyes rolled into the back of its head and its legs gave out. The orc and I watched it fall to the ground with a soft thud.

"I... uh..." I stammered. "Is he-"

"Don't worry," the orc rose with a grunt. "He's fine. The others, though, not so much. Might I ask your aid in helping them?"

"The lord is good at fixing oofs and ouchies!" Simeeth added.

"Yes, thank you Simeeth," I replied. "Of course I'm more than willing to aid those that rid me of that... pest. Can I count on you to prevent the inevitable misunderstanding?"

"Should be easy," the orc smiled warmly. "They're smarter than they look."

"Also..." I trailed off as I stared pointedly at the healing corpse of the vampire that had apparently accompanied them.

"Yes, her too, please."

I nodded at the orc and held out my hand. Many of those that travel the path of lichdom shirk the healing arts. They care only for power and longevity, and their skills suffer for it. However, my mortality had been spent on healing those around me, and I got quite good at it.

"Arua gnilaeh tsac!" I exclaimed. Then, feeling a tad dramatic, I added, "Arise."

The spell emanated from my hand and surrounded the wounded adventurers with a warm, healing embrace. Cuts disappeared, bones reformed, and breathing normalized. Before long, the adventurers were getting up, and each of them had a different way of expressing their surprise.

"Woah, shit!" one of the dwarves said.

"It's okay," the orc sorcerer replied. "The lich healed you."

"What? Really? Liches can heal people?"

"Liches ARE people, you know," I chuckled. "Or, at the very least, were."

"I... But..." the dwarf stammered for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, okay. I guess so."

"Come on, let's get you up," the orc sorcerer said as he helped the dwarf stand. "I believe introductions are in order."

The adventurers introduced themselves one by one, and Yulk introduced the still sleeping human as Nick Smith. I had many questions regarding the human and the vampire that accompanied them. However, I decided to invite their questions first with my own introduction.

"Greetings, Alta brothers and the Western Wasters," I said. "I am Larie VysImiro, lord of the fallen and king of the kobolds."

"King of the kobolds kinda makes sense," Rebis said hesitantly. "What makes you the lord of the fallen, though?"

Yulk, Ithrima, and Olmira were completely stunned by the mention of my family name, but Rebis seemed oblivious. Their expressions told me that my father is still quite famous.

"When I was mortal, I was one of the few grand-master healers. In all modesty, many of the methods and techniques that I created are likely still in use," I said with a grin, not that he could tell. "I saved those that fell in battle from their untimely deaths, and they eventually began to call me a lord."

"Lot less edgy than I thought it would be," Gali added. "What's up with you three?"

"S-sorry, did you say Larie VysImiro?" Ithrima asked.

"I did."

"As in, house VysImiro?"

"Correct."

"Are you related to Imlor VysImiro?" Yulk asked.

"Much to my shame, yes."

"Imlor VysImiro?" Nash asked. "Who's that?"

"Imlor The Grand," Olmira answered in awe. "Larie was the name of his eldest son."

"Is," I corrected. "Also, I really wish people would stop calling that monster 'The Grand'."

"Wasn't Imlor a gnome?" Rebis asked. "You don't look like a gnome to me."

"My mother was an elven princess," I said. "She was very beautiful, and I took after her appearance. Not that it's discernible any longer, though."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Apologies for interrupting, but uh... Is Nick okay?" Mako asked.

"Yes, yes. He's just sleeping and will probably wake up soon," Yulk said dismissively. "Lord VysImiro, I must know, what brings you to this dungeon?"

"I've been looking into a long dead cult. My hope is to one day undo what has been done to me," I answered, gesturing to my skeletal form.

"You were MADE a lich?" Ithrima asked. "Who would do that to you?"

"My father."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group as they digested this revelation. The only sound came from Simeeth playing with the bones of the master vampire. After a few moments of this silence, I decided elaboration was in order.

"Later in life, my father became obsessed with immortality. He considered himself far too important to the study of magic to be allowed to die, and experimented with a vast amount of rituals and spells in an attempt to prevent his end," I explained. "One day, he asked me to help him craft a new spell. He claimed that this spell could be used to save countless lives, and that even a novice would be able to learn it. This was well into his mania, though. In hindsight, I should have known better, but my compassion bested me and I took my father at his word."

I paused a moment and played with the ring on my index finger. My father's signet ring.

"I had not been involved in the creation of a spell before, nor had I looked into the daemonic arts of flesh-craft. I did have some slight experience with anyelic soul-binding, but this actually worked against me in recognizing the ritual for what it actually was."

My hand shook from the pressure I was putting on the ring. Were it not enchanted, it would have broken.

"I loved my father, and believed that he loved me in turn. After my mother died, we had helped each other mourn. But the mer that performed that ritual with me was not the father that I loved, and definitely not the father that I thought loved me. To him, I was nothing more than a convenient test subject. A simple toy to play with and learn from. Nevermind the fact that I had a fiancee who loved me, and was planning on starting my own family."

I released the pressure on the ring with a sigh.

"The monster masquerading as my father revealed itself by turning me into this abomination. Once the pain and confusion abated, Imlor The Grand declared that the experiment had been a failure. After all, he couldn't very well remain at the head of sorcery without flesh. Who would take the skeleton of a gnome seriously?"

"I'm so sorry," Ithrima whispered.

"Oh, it gets worse," I chuckled darkly. "I demanded that he undo what he did to me. He said that he didn't know how, and he didn't have the time to find out. His own mortality was ticking away and he needed to find a solution. Ironic, considering that was the statement that killed him."

"You mean-" Olmira said and stopped herself.

"Yes. I fought my father. Our duel contributed to the wastes west of here. He killed me several times, but his ego prevented him from destroying my phylactery. He believed that I would learn my lesson and cease my 'tantrum', but I was determined. In the end, he was a broken and bloody mess, begging me to heal him. 'If you could do this to me, what horrors are you willing to unleash on those you feel nothing for?' Those were my last words to him before I ended his life."

More silence as the adventurers processed what I told them. My father, Imlor The Grand, Patriarch of the VysImiro family, had been a hero and a scholar before his disappearance from the public eye. To learn that he had turned into a monster and was subsequently killed by his own son must come as a shock.

"The big bad dad made the lord bones, but then the lord made the big bad dad bones!" Simeeth said happily. "The lord is strong! The lord is great!"

"Kind words, Simeeth," I nodded at the kobold. "Thank you."

"Well, shit. Guess you can't choose your family, right?" Rebis asked rhetorically.

"Indeed you cannot," Yulk nodded sagely. "My condolences. Not to get off topic, Lord VysImiro, but what exactly were you hoping to find down here?"

"No need for honorifics. My titles have long since faded to dust," I laughed. "The Cult of Malos operated in this dungeon before the daemonic invasion. Since they were accused of collaboration with the daemons, I was hoping to find more information on the ritual that did this to me. This is magic that works outside of the Curaguard system, and because of that, all I know is how the ritual is performed. If I knew why certain steps were taken and what effect those steps had, I may be able to eventually find a way to reverse the ritual and return to my mortal form."

"Or maybe you could be immortal, but with skin," Rebis said.

"No, I'd rather just be a normal mer again. Immortality is worth nothing when you're the only one who has it, and I'd rather not be forced to cohabitate with the fair folk just to have some consistent company. I would definitely choose having skin over my current state, though."

"Fair enough," Yulk chuckled. "So, did you find anything?"

"I found that this dungeon is much larger than it appears at first glance. The Cult of Malos was definitely performing experiments here, but most of their notes had rotted away. Some were legible, but in terrible condition. Thankfully, I managed to transcribe them into stone before time took its toll on them."

"What did they say?"

"I do not know. They are in a strange script with lettering that I have never seen before."

"The words are very weird," Simeeth added. "Much more pointy than the ones in the picture books."

"Picture books?" Mako asked.

"Yes, I was attempting to teach the kobolds how to read. Some took to it better than others," I answered.

"Where'd you get the picture books?" Nash asked.

"I've had them for a long time. When I still had flesh, I was frequently called upon to heal ill children, and the picture books would help keep them in high spirits. I keep the books with me to remind me of what kind of mer I was... No. Am."

"The pictures are very pretty, but I still can't read," Simeeth sighed sadly.

"Don't be sad, Simeeth, you'll get there one day. You've made a lot of academic progress, remember? You can count all the way to seven," I said.

Nash muttered something angrily under his breath, and Yulk struggled to keep his composure. I looked at the orc brothers quizzically, but Yulk held up a hand and shook his head slightly.

"Is there any chance that we could see these writings?" he asked.

"They are in the office," I said, nodding to Simeeth. "Please retrieve them. Careful, they're heavy."

"FOR THE LORD!" the kobold exclaimed gleefully and ran off.

"I've been hoping to meet with some fae to ask if they've seen a language like the one on the tablets before, but it's a treacherous journey and the kobolds were ill-prepared to accompany me," I said. "They made it pretty clear that the only way for me to leave this dungeon without an honor guard would be to kill them all. Obviously, I wasn't willing to do that."

"Hmm," Mako rubbed his chin. "Hey, Gali-"

"Way ahead of you, big guy," the dwarf laughed. "If you can pay for food and stuff, the Western Wasters would be happy to escort you to see the fae."

"What?" I asked, flummoxed.

"Well, we owe you one, don't we?" Gali posed the question to the rest of his party.

"Yep," Heino and Rebis said simultaneously.

"Sure do," Mako added.

"Having a lich among our party is gonna get us some odd looks, but yes, we do owe you one," Ithrima said. "Plus, I reserve the right to pester you with questions."

An unfortunate side-effect of being a lich is that my face no longer shows when I smile. I had been expecting hostility, overt or otherwise, but here they are offering to help. Just goes to show that I don't know as much as I had thought.

"Very well," I said. "I accept your offer."

"Offer?" Nick asked softly. "I'm not on her, though."

"I think it's about time to wake him up," Nash chuckled maliciously.