The Evil Lich King

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Bio: Hello everyone, It's just me, The Evil Lich King. I decided to stop by and pay my last respects to all those who stand against my wrath. Currently enlisting the help of my characters, in order to create the ultimate WDC writing group. Once my loyal legion of followers are summoned among the ranks of the undead, I plan on invading this community. My goals are mass confusion, lots of bloodshed, and total world domination.

Name: Thanos The Deathbringer

Gender: Male

Age: Immortal

Location: Necropolis, The Frozen Lands of Argoth Modir

About Me: After transcending death, I find myself many of a night locked away in my Ice Fortress; reading the mundane arcane spell or two. When I'm not planning world domination, I enjoy the occasional human sacrifice. Something about the red liquid seeping through the rot of my fingers, really gets me going.

Interests: Necronomicon, favorite book hands down. It has been vital in my studies, and has helped me tremendously in creating my phylactery which I imbued my soul. I enjoy raising an occasional undead army or two. I enjoy my time at the arcane archives, and hanging out with the necromancers. They know how to have a good time even though they're a bunch of stiffs. Favorite music has to be the wailing of the damned. They certainly can strike a bloody cord from deep within the bellows of the dungeon.

The Evil Lich King

The last incantation was uttered, as he raised himself from the table. The sword laying on top of it gleamed with an eldritch light. It is done, he thought as he picked up the sword and sheathed it; with a motion of a gloved hand the torches around the cavern went out. A tap of his staff on the hard rocky ground ignited the small white crystal that rested on its head. He began to walk out of the dark cavernous chamber; his footsteps echoed off the narrow walls.

Winding up the spiraling stairway, reaching towards a source of light. He exited the cave, it appeared as if he had moved through solid rock. The cloaking spell was just a mere illusion but it had it's purposes. The gauntlet on his right hand was removed. A bony finger traced an old archaic rune in the air.

The call was heard as a giant shadow passed over head. Mammoth wings hovered just above, the frost drake landed on the hard icy cliff edge. Shards of ice and dusts of snow surrounded the magician. The drake lowered it's neck in submission, as the armored man grabbed it's mane, hoisting himself on top. A war cry was shouted as the beast dove off the cliff.

White wings close to its side gave it the momentum needed. When they parted the force of air took to the membrane skin, launching the dragon upwards. Arching wings high above in response to its master's hand. A flutter of wings: the lowering of its head, began their descent.

Flying between fissures, its sharp talons glanced upon the icy blue water sending ripples behind their wake. Slabs of ice jutted upon the surface, like piercing islands on a frozen ocean. Only miles upon miles of vast whiteness could be seen.

"The journey had begun, but the saga would continue." -- Asiah, prophet of the "Book of Lost Souls."


300 Word Count