Lichborne

He reached out through the aether, looking, hoping to find a timeline that didn't end this way. But every promising strand somehow went off on a deathly tangent right when things seemed to be going right. He frowned and bit his lip in frustration, and felt anger rising inside him. "NO! I WILL NOT FADE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs into the nothingness of the astral plane. To his surprise, something answered.

"Time is unforgiving, isn't it, Archmage?". He heard it like a whisper at the back of his mind. "Yes... even the greatest men must die and be forgotten. Every mortal man shall perish. It is the way of the world. Every. Mortal. Man." A thought. began to form at the back of his mind, a dreadful, forbidden thought. The voice sounded like it had all the answers he needed, and he was eager to listen.

"You could become one of my servants, Argus. You could become undead. The magicks are at your disposal. The flow of time around you could be stopped forever, and you would continue to exist. Your power would be limitless. Your influence, far-reaching. You could, on a whim, destroy your enemies and raise them as your servants. You could never know the bite of death. All I ask, in return, is your servitude. There are certain........tasks I need handled. Complete them for me and you will win both your freedom and your immortality. All it takes is one little spell."

Argus Arnithil's mind raced at the suggestion. He knew the spell in question, having read it in one of the many musty tomes in his library. The spell was one of utmost darkness, it would twist his flesh and make him something completely unrecognizable. It had never been successfully cast because nobody had the power to do so. The voice had promised that power. There was also the question of if he would allow himself to be thrall to this.... voice. In life, he was an Archmage, a force to be reckoned with. Kingdoms trembled when his mood shifted, life and death were cards he dealt freely. But, like any other man, he had aged far beyond his limit. He was almost two hundred years old, and even for a half-elf, that was ancient. His life force was dwindling down, and he had explored all other options. Finally, in his last hours, he had projected himself into the aether to search the timelines for any other option besides death. And time had answered.

"So, what's it going to be? Are you going to be worm food or are you going to live forever?" the voice asked impatiently. "So be it." he replied. "Empower me, and I will begin the ritual." "Excellent." the voice replied. "Prepare the spell, and when the time comes I will give you the power to cast it. Do be quick, you don't have long!" A resounding cackle filled his ears as his spirit flew back to his body.

He walked over to his alchemy table and picked up the required chalks and material components. Black chalk from the volcanic beaches of the southern continent, the bones of a 300-year dead king, and a distilled bottle of blood from a black dragon. He mixed them together carefully and began to draw his circle on the floor of his laboratory. When he was finished, he sat in the middle and began chanting. Almost immediately, power began to surge through his veins, swelling and exhilarating him. It continued to grow, filling his being and swelling throughout him. Soon, his skin began to twist and crawl as his muscles were eaten away by the spell's foul work. The skin yellowed to a deathly sheen and stretched tight over the bone as malevolent energy surged through his being. After what seemed hours, every candle in his tower extinguished until the only light source in the room was the cold blue flames dancing where his eyes used to be. He walked over to a mirror to glance at what he had become.

Cold, dead flesh was tautly drawn over his skull, his neck and arms were just bone. Inside his ribcage a core of roiling black energy was all that held his body together. His legs were just as skeletal as the rest of him and his bone feet floated a few inches above the ground. He had become inhuman. He had become immortal. He had become all-powerful. He had become..... lichborne.