The eye sockets of the skull lit up with a murky green flame, growing and growing until it engulfed the skull. Simultaneously, a swirling vortex of the same green fire consumed the pile of flesh and bone that had once been The Lich. After only a few moments, the vortex dissipated and the flame engulfing the skull quelled. What was left in the remnants of the vortex was the fully formed Lich, as if nothing had ever happened. For a few moments, all he could do was stand there as his consciousness slowly came to terms that it had regained a body.

“Tch.. Of course that happens in the middle of a fight,” The Lich angrily mutters to himself as he places his skull back inside his cloak and returns to his run down and now doorless cabin.

The warrior stumbled whilst dragging his great axe behind him through the lowly village. The small town sat just outside the dark forest and away from any major routes, so it was rarely visited and the villagers had spent a majority if not all of their lives living there.

Bringing up his leg, the warrior kicked the door of a dimly lit tavern open which caused his side to start aching. He walked past the tables bustling with customers drinking and laughing with great difficulty to a stool in front of the bar. Propping his axe against the stool, he asked the bartender who was cleaning a few cups for a drink.

Beside him sat a behemoth of a knight who was covered head to toe in a silver set of armor with a bluish luster.

“I assume you failed?” The giant asked expectantly.

“No sir. Cut him to pieces.”

The bartender sat down a mug full of beer at which the warrior began to take a sip of. The Behemoth glanced towards the warrior and assessed his injuries before sighing which echoed from his helmet.

“You did fail, and you know what comes next don’t you?”

All that filled the warrior’s head were fearful and frantic thoughts. It dumbfounded him how that unholy abomination could still be on this Earth. Unfortunately, it mattered not. He had failed. Of course it scared him of what came next, but he deserved it for such a blunder.

The Behemoth placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the warrior before clearing his throat. In less than a second, the warrior exploded into a mess of blood and entrails. Screams rang out from the establishment while the bartender continued cleaning the cups, unbothered by the slaughter.

“Another failure,” The Behemoth mumbled, placing a few coins down to repay the bartender for the mess he had just caused.

The Lich picked up his door and propped it against the frame before calling it finished. Just as he was going to return to sitting down on his stolen stool, he felt a vibration on his side. He gritted his teeth before taking the vibrating skull from the inside of his cloak. Holding it out in front of him, he simply let go. The skull was able to catch itself midair and rose to The Lich’s eye level before a crimson glow began to emanate from within.

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“Hello,” a cold and condescending voice sounded from within The Lich’s head.

Without a need for response, the voice continued:

“I see you have died yet again. You know how painfully tedious it is to bring you back? Or are you that ignorant?”

“I am aware,” The Lich said through gritted teeth.

“Yet you still keep dying. Pitiful. Anyway, to repay your debt, I wish to have the soul of a powerful warrior. One whose strength is unmatched. Of course… you know what happens when you don’t pay up, right?”

The Lich let out a sigh.

“Yes, you’ve said it plenty of times before. I will forever be trapped within my own mind to suffer for eternity in total darkness.”

“Good, so you’re not that idiotic.”

“Although, you’ve let me off before.” The Lich smirked.

Total silence filled the room as the floating skull glared at The Lich. While not totally obvious that it was glaring, he knew very well that what he said enraged the floating skull.

“You’re right, I did. And since I did, you technically have an extra debt to pay. So instead of a singular powerful warrior, I think I also want the soul of the nearly extinct dragon as well.”

“Of course you do,” The Lich said with a smile.

“Get to it.”

The crimson light of the skull faded and it dropped to the floor with a thunk.

“I hate that guy,” The Lich mumbled before placing the skull back inside of his cloak.

Sitting upon his stool, he contemplated just how he was to obtain the souls he was asked for. As the patronizing skull had mentioned, dragons were of an extremely rare breed, almost entirely wiped out. As for the knight, well he was certain that he could find one, although having “unmatched” strength sounds like it would be a pain, but The Lich did not fret.

“Now where to find a dragon,” The Lich wondered out loud.

After racking his brain for a few hours, The Lich had come up with a solution to his dilemma. Wandering outside his cabin, he glanced around in each cardinal direction.

“Hmm, which way was it again?”

After spinning in a circle for a few moments, he eventually stopped west of the cabin.

“Ah ha! I remember now, I went there to kill a manticore not too long ago,” he said while staring at the thick trees and underbrush.

The Lich’s destination was an area in which many impossibilities happened, a place incredibly infamous for being one of the most dangerous parts of the world due to it housing many ancient and disastrous creatures. While it wasn’t guaranteed to have a live dragon, a deceased one could still work depending on how long ago its death was. His destination was most commonly referred to as The Forest of Mythos.