Archlich Verigar

The Archlich Verigar is a tale known to a few, many of those who know the tale are either of advanced age or have travelled the more dangerous places of Sunaria, but to those who know it, know a tale of fate and consequence.

...and so it is told...
Verigar was a powerful wizard with a broken moral compass when it came to advancing his craft. Verigar would go to almost any lengths to achieve power and more often than not this meant the ill fortune of someone in his path. In one instance of this he shunted the soul of a powerful hag into a cane so that it would hunger for magic and devour nearby energies. He became so renowned for his dastardly deeds that a life of hiding was preferable to the flood of bereaved challengers that made their way to exact revenge. To this day no one knows where he spirited away to but they do know the tales of where he appeared when he wanted some trinket or some odd piece of anatomy of a rare creature, and this is where the tales are spun.

On one such occasion Verigar ventured into forest to retrieve the heart of an arborcyte from a particular grove but instead happened upon a small thatch hut where the grove should have been. Curious as to why his magics had failed him he began to investigate. The door was open and he let himself inside and was met by the aroma of a recently cooked meal.

"Come in wizard, the fire isn't as warm as it should be but I've a bowl of stew for a wary traveler", said a voice from the shadowed corner of the hut's farthest wall.

"My name is...", Verigar paused, "My name is Salvador. I've come to help some unlucky druids find their rest. I thought I was headed toward the grove of arborcytes, but I'm afraid I must be lost."

"Well Salvador", the ancient voice began, "You can leave in peace then, I took care of the arborcytes some time ago, their grove is at rest and they found their peace, but please have a meal before you are on your way."

Verigar found himself immensely hungry and slid into a chair to oblige.

Soon, a stooped and gnarled woman of advanced age came to the table with a steaming bowl and a crusty haunch of bread; the owner of the voice. She settled herself across from him at the table and pulled a jar from inside of her robes.

"Here are their hearts, all five of them, poor souls. At least their sacrifice can do some good in becoming a product of my work."

Verigar eyed the jar hungrily, maybe this trip would pay dividends after all. "How much do you want for them?"

The crones eyes crinkled in a smile, now seeing the eagerness in the wizard's eyes. "I couldn't part with them, they'll be very useful in some restoratives I'm creating. I don't think I could let them go, but if you're willing I will let you have them for a promise." She paused long before the last sentence, allowing time for the wizard to contemplate going away empty-handed.

"A promise?", Verigar questioned, "What kind of promise?"

The crone hesitated, drawing out the anticipation of the wizard, and just before he repeated himself for thinking she hadn't heard, she replied.

"I know who you *really* are Verigar and I would have a promise fitting your name.", She surveyed the wizard and savored the rising ego she saw welling in him."

Verigar was surprised that his lie hadn't worked but he knew the prize in the jar was already his, so he humored her, "I could just as easily take the hearts from you, but I'm tickled to hear what promise you would have of me for them, so please continue..."

"It's a simple thing for you really," the crone intoned, "You promise to either stop practicing your craft and do what you will, or continue to practice your craft on the exception that you do no deliberate harm to others." The crone's trap was set.

Verigar pondered for a moment, but only just long enough to imagine himself destroying her with a simple weaving of magics. "This is all you need of me? Then be at ease, you have my word."

The crone held up a crooked and wrinkled finger, "Do not accept so lightly, for if you break this promise the consequences will be permanent and dire. If you accept this promise and break it all of your fate will turn against you and every endeavor you take will spoil. Your progress will lead you two steps back, your ill will will only sew good deeds, and your personal interests will the world see.", her finger returned to the others and rested on the flat of her palm as she laid he hands folded on the table in front of her. "Do you still accept this promise?"

Verigar, ever cocky and seeing the weakness of her argument replied, "I do. I accept and promise. Now if you would please..."

The crone slid the jar of arborcyte hearts across the table and waited for Verigar to pick them up. Once the jar was in his hands she reminded, "Our deal is struck and you promise is sound, now go to whence you came and never return."

This was exactly what Verigar did. The wizard left with the hearts and returned home chortling to himself how easy the entire ordeal had been.

His first act was to use the hearts to trade for a spell that would make him an immortal lich. This particular spell required he syphon the life energies away from thirteen wizards in a ritual of sacrifice. As fate would have it, as Verigar set to perform the ritual that would bring deliberate harm to others it went awry.

His Hag-hearted staff flared with life and devoured the sacrifice of souls itself altering the nature of the spell. Indeed the spell did make Verigar into a lich, but only so long as he held fast to the staff, elsewise his power waned away. In this fashion he was the first ever Archlich born from folly. After many days of recovery he hatched his plans again to foster and grow his power within his new form, and to research ways to wrest the power from the staff so that he could properly maintain his lichdom, but this proved an impossible task.

The ensuing years after were a misery to the Archlich Verigar, the pact he made with the crone had been binding and every attempt he made to advance his craft or do an ill deed spoiled in its place or became something altogether different. A wand he created to remove his wounds and cure him refused to anything of the sort and when it cured, it cured only meats into their beloved salty forms. His endeavors to read throughout the night resulted in the attempt to create an ever-burning flame which only resulted in a candle that only emitted darkness and diminished fast. In his final attempt to steal his power back from his staff he created The Tome of Unspeakable Power, which does nothing more than create sandwiches for whomever opens it.

After many years of failure the archlich decided to set out in the world and find the crone, vowing to make her release him from the curse, but every attempt to find her failed. Instead he wandered around from place to place trying to sew deeds of ill will, but ultimately they resulted in having the opposite effect. One town angered him so badly he conjured a spell to raise an undead army and wipe out the citizens of the town, but the resulting zombies arose but calmly went about their business performing the tasks they had rendered in their normal lives, those who had been guards returned to their posts, farmers began meekly tending fields, and so to the rest of those raised. From that day forward anyone who died within a radius of the town's center rose back up as a zombie to finish their work. At first the townsfolk were frightened but before the first days end they had realized that their loved ones had returned to help out the community until their bodies failed them. This town became a marvel for the terminally ill and their ability to maintain the waking dead and care for their failing bodies, renowned. The curse Verigar laid upon the town still acts to this day. The townsfolks, for their part, realized it was Verigar who had brought this boon to their community and retracted their hate of him and replaced it with acceptance and good words.

For decades Verigar became more angry and set to hurt others but in each and every attempt the deeds turned on him, and in places he wished they would shout his name in anger instead they raised his name up in praise. The Archlich Verigar soon became a name of the most beloved of all archliches, for wherever he went good things soon followed, and this slowly had an effect on Verigar himself. When he went to a town he no longer hid, but was greeted with open arms, smiles, and acceptance. He began to like the things he had convinced himself he could live without: companionship and caring.

It was as he was sitting in a tavern one night finishing off a complimentary meal that it dawned on him what the crone had done, not just to him but for him. As the night stretched on his smile faded and he frowned into his goblet, saddened that he would never be able to give the crone a proper sentiment for changing him into a person he enjoyed being. Just before he set his goblet down empty a young and spritely maiden threw herself down in the chair across from him.

"Why the frown old friend?" She said teasingly. "I had thought you had finally appreciated my gift."

Verigar eyed the girl and saw a familiarity in the eyes as she held up a finger in the same pose the crone had so many years ago.

"B-b-but...", his stammering annoyed him that he could be put off guard so quickly, "How did you become so young, this surely isn't illusion?"

"I don't deal in illusions, no. Our pact lent me use of your magics whenever you used them so I took some power here and there for myself and the rest I gave back to you in the manner you agreed to on our promise to each other." She tossed a lock of hair back over her shoulder, "I have to say I do enjoy the new years you have added to my life while you've railed against our bargain, but I see now that you are changing. We agreed that you would never see me again but I thought it was my turn to find you."

Verigar, so much welling up in him he felt he would burst with all he had to say decided to remain quiet and let her continue.

"You wish to have the power of the staff for yourself and this I can do for you, so long as you stick to the terms of our previous deal, the power will be yours."

Verigar looked to the staff and took it in for a moment. After years of continuously holding it in one of his hands he failed to recognize it often, deeming to rather think the arm lost altogether rather than simply holding onto a staff for dear life. He did want the power, but he also feared returning to what he once was. Then he raised his gaze and took in the tavern he was in, the happy people, the friendly keeper...

"I would amend our promise, if you would be so kind." He began, "I would stick to the same terms as before, but if this time I should break them my life would be forfeit, for if I step even an inch closer to becoming my old self I fear I would continue to slip." He brought his empty goblet back and laid his gaze down into its nonexistent contents, as he finished, "I would want this if you are able and I know I've no right to ask but perhaps your reasons for visiting this upon me might be incentive to take my life, given freely, should I fail."

"Go then, I accept and the deal is struck." She began, "As for my reasons," She looked to the staff in his hands, "My first pass at youth was spent with my sister Yenith practicing our unique blends of magic; mine a magic that binds will and words while hers was a magic that attracted errant magic and repurposed it. We made a life of it blending our magics together."

She looked now at Verigar staring into his cup, seeing the realization dawn on him. "You took Yenith from me, what I loved most in this world. So I used my power to help her take what you loved most in this world." Her voice now tinged with a hint of anger at the recollections, however it returned soft when she continued, "But Yenith was ever-so-kind and would want something better to come of all of this." She waved her hands about dismissively. "Give me the staff." She commanded as she held out her hand.

Verigar flinched for a moment. He hadn't let the staff out of his grasp for decades now, he wondered if he could. He summoned the faith and stretched it out to be taken, his fingers peeling away slowly. With a slight shift the staff left his downturned palm and entered her upturned palm. The maiden-crone smiled and brought the staff close hugging it to her chest.

"It's okay now my Yenith," She whispered sweetly to the staff, "The deal is struck give him back what you've taken and know that he will be a warning to those going forward, and that he will spend the remainder of what immortality he has doing good deeds, or he will do no deeds no more." With that power surged from the staff and enveloped Verigar, he could feel the magic come back, not the sickly sweet energies of his old trade, but something altogether new, something Yenith had changed the magic into while she had it in the staff. When it was done Verigar was alone at the table, the maiden and the staff nowhere to be seen.

Verigar spent many years after sewing good deeds throughout the lands and making a name for himself, eventually his visits to places became less and less, until today we can only surmise that he is hiding away somewhere or went back on his word and lost his life... we may never know.