#lich lords of the grand necropolis

[northernolddragon]

💀💚

[thepalehorsevictoria]

A recurring nightmare that Emmrich has never had the courage to share with Rook.

The chamber is the familiar green of the rest of the Grand Necropolis, and the glint of the gold of the Lich Lords does not move as they watch him fight against the urge to pace. The only sound is the drumming in his throat as his heart beats for the last time.

And there is no one there with him in this moment that he has prepared for his entire life.

Emmrich has always had the company of his mind and his work, but he never admits that even as he has yearned for lichdom, his heart has ached for the love of another. A love that threatens to wrench his heart from his mortal bones.

His parents are with him in spirit, with his father’s knife in Vorgoth’s clutches and the taste of his mother’s hazelnut torte still in his mouth as his last meal.

But he has been alone for so long already, with eternity to go.

The sharp scrape of fingernails, cold as the Anderfels, sharp enough to draw the last of his blood, runs down his spine and Emmrich is jolted awake, sweating, taking a sharp breath to fuel the scream building in his teeth—

—and the delicate, sweet scent of orange blossom and jasmine stops him. He finally remembers that she is there in his bed next to him, her skin warm from the heart in her chest and his heart that he gave her.

He swallows hard, cracking the dry crust of his mouth. He watches in silence until he can hear her breathing slow and deep and steady as she sleeps, matching his breath with hers to calm himself down.

And then he gently pulls himself closer to her, readily finding that perfect spot around her waist for his arm to drape over her like she was born to fit into his embrace. She stirs softly with a sigh of content and Emmrich blots the tears in the corner of his eyes on the pillow under his head, taking a deep breath of the scent in her hair.

But none would make me exchange this for anything.

He meant it then, and he means it again, now, every day, as long as it is with her.

—

Had this rattling in my head this morning while indulging in a favorite scent, and I am besotted with the looks on his face in this scene with the Lich path.

(AO3: “And the Night Mare Rides On”)

[rom-e-o]

Emmrich Armor (+Thoughts)

@quill-pen

I’ve got you! 😉 There is A LOT, so I’m putting a Read More, haha.

Researcher's Robes

In-Game Description: These refined necromantic robes are layered to fend off the Grand Necropolis' biting cold. They smell like sage.

(His coat looks like a combination of a flayed body and a corpse flower. Insanely good design. 1000/10)

Also, sage is an interesting choice, considering the symbolism of burning sage across different cultures. Also, if it's so cold, sir, pull those sleeves down! Goodness.

Funeral Finery

In-Game Description: Keen gold lines over green the color of plants so dark they returned to the soil. Emmrich at his most regal and refined—but no less deadly.

(Absolute fav, love this outfit. It's so princely.)

The Boundless Scholar

In-Game Description: Dubbed the "death shroud" by some cheeky Mourn Watchers, this generous draping of heavy cloth and "leather" is built to outlive its wearer.

("Leather", huh? Hm. This feels like it wouldn't protect you at all, but he still looks adorable. Johanna and Rook have versions of this outfit.)

Preserved Gurn Hide

In-Game Description: Handsome Nevarran armor issued to practitioners of necrotic arts on the off-chance an enemy gets close enough to land a blow.

(Hot take but I LOVE this one. That green sash over his chest and all the gold is just really pleasing. Or maybe I just like green and gold.) Also, the only outfit where is right hand is exposed. How scandalous!

BEST: Graven Vestments (Unlocked by Resurrecting Manfred)

In-Game Description: A precious patchwork of of reclaimed mage robes and burial vest,nets, assembled as a gift from a twice deceased friend.

BEST: Lich's Vestige (Unlocked by Lichdom)

In-Game Description: The silk and ash stitched into this imposing necromancy set protects any wearer prone to accidental dismemberment or decay.

Emmrich's Mystique (Unlocked by purchasing the Deluxe Edition - Cosmetic Only)

In-Game Description: Sloped pauldrons and gold-toed boots paired with gorgeous necromancy robes fit for only the finest funerals.

(It's so neat seeing him in brown and blue and not green and purple/red! A nice little bonus, but it's only cosmetic.)

Now, for Rook!

STARTING: Rook's outfits depend on faction, but you can wear anything. Fits vary based on faction (Mourn Watch, Antivan Crows, etc.) and class (mage, warrior.)

TOP, left to right: Grey Warden, Veil Jumper, Shadow Dragon, Lord of Fortune, Mourn Watch, Antivan Crow

LEFT, top to bottom: Warrior, Rogue(Archery/Daggers), Mage, and your Daily Jammies/Loungewear.

So, Belisma, a Mourn Wage Mage, gets a Researcher Robe (the Boundless Scholar Recolor) looking robe. I change her out of this immediately, lmao.

IGN actually didbreakdown on ALL the options (there really 100+). Tumblr did not like me trying to add them, haha, so here is a link.

As for Isma, she is partial to anything white. Especially the Watcher Robes. The second is a modded Crow fit!

I will get pics of her eventually. I’m still experimenting with the sliders, haha. I keep making tweaks and need to settle on a design, haha.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Five

The Memorial Garden is blooming under moonlight as they walk among the graves, hand in hand. They light candles everywhere, and then settle down on the grass together. There are so many flowers that Lisbette plucks them and begins to fashion flower crowns. 

‘You’re smiling, Lisbette,’ Emmrich remarks.

She twines flowers together. ‘I suppose I can’t help myself. I have missed it here.’

‘I’m so pleased to hear it. This place is so important to me. After all, it will be a big part of my immortality.’

Lisbettle looks up in surprise. ‘Your...what?’

‘I have been wondering how to broach this subject with you,’ he says carefully. ‘I have many reasons to hope that you become a Watcher again one day, and one of them is that I intend to become a lich lord, one of the great protectors of the Necropolis.’

Lisbette has heard of the lich lords, but few have encountered them. They were all once necromancers like her and Emmrich. 

‘And as you know, I’m afraid of death.’ He frowns at his hands as if believing that this is a failing on his part. 

She reaches forward and touches his hand. ‘You would make a majestic lich, Emmrich.’

He looks up. ‘You really think so? I knew a fellow Watcher would understand. But as my lover, you must have certain feelings on the matter?’

Lisbette continues making her flower crown. He would move closer to the Mourn Watch, when she wanted to stay far away from them. His lifespan would far outstrip hers. Were they doomed before they’d really begun? 

The liches of the Grand Necropolis were distant, other-wordly beings who separated themselves from the living. Emmrich’s lips would no longer be warm, for he would have no flesh and blood. Would his heart turn cold as well, or rather, the space in his chest where his heart had been? Lisbette’s insides ached at the thought. If she had something, a friend, a lover, a home, a sense of safety, was it always destined to be taken away from her? 

‘I will be sorry to lose you,’ she whispers. Sorry? More like heartbroken. 

‘Lose me?’

‘My feelings for you wouldn’t change no matter where you go and what you become, but you....’ It hurt too much to go on.

‘You believe I will change, dearest?’ he asks.

‘Undeath must surely change what’s in your heart. The dead have no need of the living beyond the services we perform for them in the Necropolis.’

Emmrich sighs. ‘This is why I have always said the liches must come out and walk among us more often,’ he says in an exasperated tone. ‘There are so many misconceptions about those who have attained immortality. My heart will not change because of undeath. I will feel all that I do now, just as keenly as ever.’ He hesitates. ‘My body, however...’

His body would be bones, and only bones. 

‘I’m not afraid of bones, Emmrich.’

‘Yes, but I...’ he makes a vague gesture toward his body.

‘Oh. Oh . You mean you--yes, of course. Your anatomy would change as you would be a skeleton.’

‘What we indulged in earlier won’t be easy. But not impossible!’ he hastens to add. ‘I’ve been researching my options, should I ever find a companion.’

‘Do liches feel desire?’

‘Certainly they do, but it is difficult for them to achieve any...satisfaction. But for an advanced spellcaster like myself, there are ways to improvise. I’m rather excited to try them. With the right someone. Who I hope might be you, Lisbette.’

Her lover would become a majestic immortal being made of bones and magic and he would find ways of improvising and spellcasting so they could still be intimate. This was a lot more than she was expecting from a walk in the gardens. 

‘I think your dream is a beautiful one, Emmrich.’ 

She leans forward and kisses him. Their relationship was too new and it was too soon to say I don’t care what you choose as long as we’re together . Even though it was what she felt. 

Lisbette places a flower crown atop his head. ‘Whatever you decide when the time comes, I’ll be by your side.’

--

Lisbette, Neve and, Bellara are making their way through the crowded Docktown markets when someone runs up to her and shoves a piece of paper in Lisbette's hands. They're gone before she can tell who it is. 

As she reads the note, she feels her cheeks turns scarlet with anger, and she shoves it in her pocket.

‘Everything all right, Lisbette?’ Neve asks as Lisbette is looking around for the one who gave her the note. They’ve disappeared from sight. 

‘Fine,’ Lisbette says through her teeth. ‘As long as I can thump some Venatori right now.’

Neve points down a side street. ‘What a good idea. Let’s go this way.’

Later that evening when they return through the eluvian, Lisbette goes directly to Emmrich’s room. 

He looks up from his desk and gets to his feet as he sees the distress on her face. ‘Is everything all right, dearest?’

She passes him the crumpled note to read.

A necromancer is helping the Venatori. His identity may be of interest to you, as he is someone who is close to home. And even closer to you.

‘Someone handed me this in the street. They’re trying to frame you as a spy for the Venatori.’

‘Me?’ Emmrich says in mild surprise. ‘I’m working with you all and with the Venatori? Sounds rather tiring. I take it you don’t believe the message?’

‘Of course not. But who would do such a thing, and why?’

Emmrich studies the note and then tosses is onto his desk. ‘I think I recognize this handwriting. It’s very similar to an old colleague of mine, and we had a falling out. She ran foul of the Watchers for her dark uses for necromancy.’

This was sounding worse and worse to Lisbette. Emmrich has an enemy who is trying to get him in trouble with the Mourn Watch, or even killed as a traitor to everything they’re trying to do here. 

‘We must do something about this.’

‘It’s merely professional jealousy. Johanna can write all the silly notes she wishes.' Emmrich picks up his staff, and wraps both hands around it as he leans on it.

‘How can you be so casual about this? You’ve been wrongly accused.’

Emmrich smiles. ‘Dearest, as lovely as you are with those flashing eyes, you needn’t be upset on my part.’

There’s a tight feeling in Lisbette’s chest that she can barely breathe through. ‘But we must do something. It’s not fair.’

‘I have been meaning to have things out with Johanna for a long time. It appears our meeting will be sooner rather than later.’

‘I hope I will be there when you do. People shouldn’t accuse others of things they did not do.’ To Lisbette horror, tears well up in her eyes and her voice cracks. 

‘Oh, darling,’ Emmrich murmurs, putting his staff aside and folding her in his arms. He holds her tightly against his chest. ‘This isn’t about my old enemy, is it?’

She clings to the front of his shirt, trying to talk but also too stubborn to make a noise in case it sounds like a sob. 

‘I know everything,’ he says gently. ‘I wrote to Myrna asking for a full account of the matter of your exile.’

Lisbette takes a shuddering breath, and then looks up at him. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Because to speak of it before you were ready would hurt you, and I first wished to show you I am someone you can trust.’

‘You aren’t ashamed of me for drawing the anger of all the Nevarran nobility?’ 

HIs moustache twitches in amusement. ‘The Nevarran nobility? Those tiresome people? I suppose the gentry are perfectly fine. Once they’ve passed on.’

Lisbette gives a choking laugh. 

‘In this life, however, they seem to have little regard for those beneath them. I am sorry for the way they treated you. Reasoning with the nobles is near useless, but if you wish me to speak with the Mourn Watch leadership...’

‘No. I don’t care what they think of me. I don’t want anything from them.’

‘The nobles or our own faction?’ he asks gently.

Lisbette wipes the tears from her cheeks. ‘Both.’ She notices the way he’s looking at her, his eyes filled with doubt. 

‘When I ascend to become a lich, I may have a few things to say to Mourn Watch leadership from my new position.’ He says this with steel in his voice. A little ice as well. Enough to make her shiver. But not in fear of him. In awe. 

He moves around behind his desk. ‘But I do not need to be a lich to write a strongly worded letter to Mourn Watch leadership, remonstrating with them about the disregard they have shown for one of their own. Would that be agreeable?’

‘What would you put in such a letter?’ Lisbette asks curiously. 

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ He opens his draw, and there is a griffon feather quill lying next to his.

Emmrich smiles to himself, and then takes it out and presents it to her. ‘I just remembered. This is for you.’

A quill, made from one of Assan’s wing feathers if she’s not mistaken, and the nib is polished silver. It’s exquisite. 

‘But why...’ 

‘Because quills always made you happy, dearest. I hope they still do.’

He remembered after all this time? 

‘I love you,’ she blurts out, and then covers her mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But whether you are a man or a lich, I don’t want to be without you.’

Emmrich’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but then he smiles. ‘Do you mean that, dearest?’

He was always her favourite, and she always did have a crush on him. Now that he’s hers, her heart has exploded with feelings for him and they’re flying out of her mouth. 

Lisbette nods.

Emmrich kisses her. ‘Good, because I love you.’ He sits down. ‘Now, the letter. I’m going to enjoy writing this, and after, I’m going to show you just how much I love you. Another walk in the memorial gardens perhaps, or there is a wonderful little place to eat in Nevarra that I know. Or perhaps we will stay here and enjoy each other’s company,’ he says, sorting through his writing materials for the right paper. 

Running her new quill feather through her fingers, Lisbette stands by his chair and watches him write a long message with angry, indignant flourishes on the letters, and many long and satisfying words. 

The letter may not do any good, but it doesn’t matter to Lisbette. This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for her. 

[the-pea-braned-warlock]

Do you like Setra's title?

Great King

the Imperishable

Khemrikhara

The Great King of Nehekhara

King of Kings

Opener of the Way

Wielder of the Divine Flame

Punisher of Nomads

The Great Unifier

Commander of the Golden Legion

Sacred of Appearance

Bringer of Light

Father of Hawks

Builder of Cities

Protector of the Two Worlds

Keeper of the Hours

Chosen of Ptra

High Steward of the Horizon

Sailor of the Great Vitae

Sentinel of the Two Realms

The Undisputed

Begetter of the Begat

Scourge of the Faithless

Carrion-feeder

First of the Charnel Valley

Rider of the Sacred Chariot

Vanquisher of Vermin

Champion of the Death Arena

Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert

Emperor of the Shifting Sands

He Who Holds The Sceptre

Great Hawk Of The Heavens

Arch-Sultan of Atalan

Waker of the Hierotitan

Monarch of the Sky

Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands

Champion of the Desert Gods

Breaker of the Ogre Clans

Builder of the Great Pyramid

Terror of the Living

Master of the Never-Ending Horizon

Master of the Necropolises

Taker of Souls

Tyrant to the Foolish

Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade

Scion of Usirian

Scion of Nehek

The Great

Chaser of Nightmares

Keeper of the Royal Herat

Founder of the Mortuary Cult

Banisher of the Grand Hierophant

High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets

Guardian of the Charnal Pass

Tamer of the Liche King

Unliving Jackal Lord

Dismisser of the Warrior Queen

Charioteer of the Gods

He Who Does Not Serve

Slayer off Reddittras

Scarab Purger

Favoured of Usirian

Player of the Great Game

Liberator of Life

Lord Sand

Wrangler of Scorpions

Emperor of the Dunes

Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions

Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert

Curserer of the Living

Regent of the Eastern Mountains

Warden of the Eternal Necropolis

Herald of all Heralds

Caller of the Bitter Wind

God-Tamer

Master of the Mortis River

Guardian of the Dead

Great Keeper of the Obelisks

Deacon of the Ash River

Belated of Wakers

General of the Mighty Frame

Summoner of Sandstorms

Master of all Necrotects

Prince of Dust

Tyrant of Araby

Purger of the Greenskin Breathers

Killer of the False God's Champions

Tyrant of the Gold Dunes

Golden Bone Lord

Avenger of the Dead

Carrion Master

Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands

Breaker of Djaf's Bonds

Which one :)

[northirish]

Hey Mike you should drink some water today! Big font! 💧

I, Settra, the Great King, the Imperishable, Khemrikhara, The Great King of Nehekhara, King of Kings, Opener of the Way, Wielder of the Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads, The Great Unifier, Commander of the Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of the Two Worlds, Keeper of the Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of the Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of the Begat, Scourge of the Faithless, Carrion-feeder, First of the Charnel Valley, Rider of the Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of the Death Arena, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Emperor of the Shifting Sands, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Great Hawk Of The Heavens, Arch-Sultan of Atalan, Waker of the Hierotitan, Monarch of the Sky, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Champion of the Desert Gods, Breaker of the Ogre Clans, Builder of the Great Pyramid, Terror of the Living, Master of the Never-Ending Horizon, Master of the Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to the Foolish, Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, The Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of the Royal Herat, Founder of the Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets, Guardian of the Charnal Pass, Tamer of the Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of the Warrior Queen, Charioteer of the Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer off Reddittras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of the Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of the Dunes, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of the Living, Regent of the Eastern Mountains, Warden of the Eternal Necropolis, Herald of all Heralds, Caller of the Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of the Mortis River, Guardian of the Dead, Great Keeper of the Obelisks, Deacon of the Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of the Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of all Necrotects, Prince of Dust, Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of the False God's Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of the Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands, Breaker of Djaf's Bonds… and many, many more titles… Do not need water, I look great.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Settra, known by many titles such as Settra the Imperishable, the King of Kings, High King of Nehekhara, the Khemrikara, Lord of the Earth, Monarch of the Sky, Ruler of the Four Horizons, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Great Hawk of the Heavens, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, Opener of the Way, Wielder of the Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads The Great Unifier, Commander of the Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of the Two Worlds, Keeper of the Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of the Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of the Begat, Scourge of the Faithless, Carrion-feeder, First of the Charnel Valley, Rider of the Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of the Death Arena, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Arch-sultan of Atalan, Waker of the Hierotitan, Monarch of the Sky, Champion of the Desert Gods, Breaker of the Ogre Clans, Builder of the Great Pyramid, Terror of the Living, Master of the Never-Ending Horizon, Master of the Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to the Foolish, Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, Settra the Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of the Royal Heart, Founder of the Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets, Guardian of the Charnal Pass, Tamer of the Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of the Warrior Queen, Charioteer of the Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer of Redditras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of the Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of the Dunes, Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of the Living, Regent of the Eastern Mountains, Warden of the Eternal Necropolis, Herald of All Heralds, Caller of the Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of the Mortis River, Guardian of the Dead, Great Keeper of the Obelisks, Deacon of the Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of the Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of All Necrotects, Prince of Dust. Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of the False Gods' Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of the Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands, Breaker of Djaf's Bonds and many more...

I REGRET ASKING

[aly-the-writer]

"Oh, it's impossible to Blight the dead."

I wonder if that has some implications for Falondin (especially since the eluvian found in one of his temples was Blighted from an outside source and the Eluvian it seems to have been connected to was in a place guarded by a varrteral which are associated with Dirthamin).

Also totally not noticing the similarities to that lich lord's head piece to certain statues and murals. (I need to see if there's any reference that labels which God is who.)

Mind you all of this is mostly interesting cus I'm in the "the Wardens fragment the god soul but pieces have probably survived lacking the memories or all the power (re: Sera's Andruil mirroring and the Heirs)" camp, where I would be very surprised if we have heard the true last of any of elven the gods following Veilguard. (Assuming that DA survives, which is a different can of worms.)

Which puts an interesting light as to when Nevarra was established and the Grand Necropolis a-la questions of relativity to Blights? I don't see a lot of mentions of Nevarra as a power until after the Second Blight, but I can't find any mention of when the Necropolis was established or discovered.

(Gonna need to do a play through where Manfred stays resting. Or at least a save and reload the next time I hit that quest to check it out.

Also my head hurts so spelling will be fixed when I'm not using DA to distract from a migraine.)

Side note while looking up Nevarran history: I did not realize that some of the timelines put Andraste's birth as the same year that Dumat was slain. It's, uh, interesting.

[mister-killjoy]

Settra vs Franz

Oh mighty, Settra... Great King, the Imperishable, Khemrikhara, The Great King of Nehekhara, King of Kings, Opener of the Way, Wielder of the Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads, The Great Unifier, Commander of the Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of the Two Worlds, Keeper of the Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of the Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of the Begat, Scourge of the Faithless, Carrion-feeder, First of the Charnel Valley, Rider of the Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of the Death Arena, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Emperor of the Shifting Sands, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Great Hawk Of The Heavens, Arch-Sultan of Atalan, Waker of the Hierotitan, Monarch of the Sky, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Champion of the Desert Gods, Breaker of the Ogre Clans, Builder of the Great Pyramid, Terror of the Living, Master of the Never-Ending Horizon, Master of the Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to the Foolish, Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, The Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of the Royal Herat, Founder of the Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets, Guardian of the Charnal Pass, Tamer of the Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of the Warrior Queen, Charioteer of the Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer off Reddittras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of the Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of the Dunes, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of the Living, Regent of the Eastern Mountains, Warden of the Eternal Necropolis, Herald of all Heralds, Caller of the Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of the Mortis River, Guardian of the Dead, Great Keeper of the Obelisks, Deacon of the Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of the Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of all Necrotects, Prince of Dust, Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of the False God's Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of the Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands, Breaker of Djaf's Bonds... and many, many more... I am Prince and Emperor!

2 Chads.

[kharak-the-skeleton]

Nagash is a bitch who gets fucked over by The Skaven (my beloved). There is one true leader of the undead!

I of course speaks of The Mighty Settra! Great King, The Imperishable, Khemrikhara, The Great King of Nehekhara, King of Kings, Opener of The Way, Wielder of The Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads, The Great Unifier, Commander of The Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of The Two Worlds, Keeper of The Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of The Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of The Begat, Scourge of The Faithless, Carrion-Feeder, First of The Charnel Valley, Rider of The Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of The Death Arena, Mighty Lion of The Infinite Desert, Emperor of The Shifting Sands, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Great Hawk Of The Heavens, Arch-Sultan of Atalan, Waker of The Hierotitan, Monarch of The Sky, Majestic Emperor of The Shifting Sands, Champion of The Desert Gods, Breaker of The Ogre Clans, Builder of The Great Pyramid, Terror of The Living, Master of The Never-Ending Horizon, Master of The Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to The Foolish, Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, The Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of The Royal Herat, Founder of The Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of The Deathfleets, Guardian of The Charnal Pass, Tamer of The Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of The Warrior Queen, Charioteer of The Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer of Reddittras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of The Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of The Dunes, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, Seneschal of The Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of The Living, Regent of The Eastern Mountains, Warden of The Eternal Necropolis, Herald of All Heralds, Caller of The Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of The Mortis River, Guardian of The Dead, Great Keeper of The Obelisks, Deacon of The Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of The Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of all Necrotects, Prince of Dust, Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of The False God's Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of The Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands, Breaker of Djaf's Bonds, and many, many more

SETTRA IS A BITCH WHO COULDN’T MAKE IT THROUGH VERMINTIDE.

ALL HAIL THE LICH KING.

(Also skaven are cool)

[finncomet]

mighty, Settra (6"7)... Great King, the Imperishable, Khemrikhara, The Great King of Nehekhara, King of Kings, Opener of the Way, Wielder of the Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads, The Great Unifier, Commander of the Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of the Two Worlds, Keeper of the Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of the Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of the Begat, Scourge of the Faithless, Carrion-feeder, First of the Charnel Valley, Rider of the Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of the Death Arena, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Emperor of the Shifting Sands, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Great Hawk Of The Heavens, Arch-Sultan of Atalan, Waker of the Hierotitan, Monarch of the Sky, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Champion of the Desert Gods, Breaker of the Ogre Clans, Builder of the Great Pyramid, Terror of the Living, Master of the Never-Ending Horizon, Master of the Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to the Foolish, Bearer of Ptra's Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, The Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of the Royal Herat, Founder of the Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets, Guardian of the Charnal Pass, Tamer of the Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of the Warrior Queen, Charioteer of the Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer off Reddittras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of the Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of the Dunes, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of the Living, Regent of the Eastern Mountains, Warden of the Eternal Necropolis, Herald of all Heralds, Caller of the Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of the Mortis River, Guardian of the Dead, Great Keeper of the Obelisks, Deacon of the Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of the Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of all Necrotects, Prince of Dust, Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of the False God's Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of the Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek's Lands, Breaker of Djaf's Bonds.... and many more

[northernolddragon]

[obscurushydrae]

Modern Watch AU

The Watch has its origins in ancient times, an order set to keep the balance of life and death. This suggests some ties to the Kemetic priests of old--Aset brought her sundered husband back to life-- but not necessarily. Though the scarab motif does add credence.

However, Hecate too was also a goddess of magic and death, a patroness who once gave them the secret of raising the dead. Among others. Needless to say even to this day there are animated debates on the original patron(ess), despite technically serving them all. However a Watcher may tend to favor one over another.

Regardless They are ordained necromancers-- and have an ancient accordance with the psychopomps to practice their works in order to keep balance, mostly malevolent shades and spirits, but in the occasion demons and other such beings.

They do not have the monopoly on necromancy-- other still perform the art and Watcher or not, any ill intent is stopped and censured. Simply a Watcher in a sort of pact to honor the psychopomp's duty-- the dead animated is with proper permission and blessing and must be accounted for. (Needless to say the auditors from Tartarus are the most dreaded of visits; Lord Hades is an exacting man who desires to make sure all shades are accounted for.)

The Watch tends to work in secret, especially considering many times throughout history those who have magical talent were persecuted and burned, etc. so many Watchers have seemingly banal day lives.

The last time the Watch was openly active was during the Second World War working with Professor Bruttenholm and the nascent BPRD. Especially after the incident at Bromwich Church and the birth of Anung Un Rama.

The Plague of Frogs cut off the North American continent from the rest of the world essentially, the bulk of the danger happening there, as such the Watch was blind, and only until recently was made abreast of the whole thing

What is more, their new Patroness has yet to pay her respects. (It's not like she was too busy spending the last five years trying to stabilize things or anything...)

And that is how they get involved in her life. Unfortunately tied into both as the Dread Patroness and as Director of the BPRD...

The Grand Necropolis is a liminal, ever shifting space that serves as a vault of dangerous relics-- and bodies that could be become a threat in undeath or worse. The Watch maintains these vaults and virtual underworld city. It also serves as a neutral ground for the psychopomps, divine, infernal, supernatural even if it tended on by mortals. This is place treaties are made, and even the trickster gods respect that this is hallowed ground, lest becoming it's prisoner.

The Lich Lords though few are the Grandmasters of the Watch, they are the arbiters and peacekeepers both, only answering to the authority of the fate deities. Only in times of great upheaval will they make a public appearance to their members, however it is known they may take private audiences with their Patron(esses) from time to time. Because of the sacrifice, dedication, and immortality that comes with the title, their numbers are few to keep balance and one will be lucky another joins their rank in your lifetime.

Vorgoth is there still, and no one knows who or what they are and how they got there but they help keep things going so they are a welcomed being in the fold.

Watcher Ivy Ingellvar is the current Watch-Bureau Liaison after an unfortunate event in the Necropolis that among the senior members rather divided. On one hand they may have saved the Necropolis in the long run...but their means would normally have had a Watcher expelled. To the keep the peace, it was best decided Ivy go on a "Cultural Exchange".

[emmg]

I know I already wrote a whole dissertation on this, but I can’t help myself, I need to go off a little more because this piece hits every nerve I have when it comes to Lich Emmrich.

You do not get to transfer your fear of mortality onto your partner or anyone you care about, just because you no longer answer to the decay of time, Emmrich. Your fears and insecurities about death are yours alone. It’s not fair to drag those onto someone who is still bound to the human condition, to the constant ticking of a clock that you, in your infinite wisdom, chose to break free of.

You do not get to encase people in glass, treating them like fragile treasures to preserve only for the sake of your comfort.

You do not get to use puppy-dog eyes as a way to guilt-trip someone into living inside a bubble, so you can avoid facing the messiness of their humanity. They are not your emotional crutch or your personal shield from the realities you refuse to confront.

You chose immortality, Emmrich, and only you. You made that decision with full knowledge of what it meant. Rook didn’t choose that for themselves. Rook chose their own path, one that doesn’t come with an eternal lifespan or the burden of an immortality that, frankly, seems to weigh more heavily on you than it’s worth. Rook has the right to live, to take risks, to feel things without the constant pressure of walking on eggshells around a partner who might crumble emotionally, clutch his pearls and weep into his sleeve, at the mere thought of them scraping their knee.

And you do not get to hold people hostage with your feelings, just because you're a lich with big, intense emotions.

You chose to accept the passing of time when you respected Manfred’s sacrifice, EMMRICH. You didn’t try to undo death, EMMRICH. You didn’t try to bring him back, even though you could have, EMMRICH. You gave him that finality, that peace, EMMRICH. You gave him the respect of letting death be what it is: a natural, inevitable part of life. But now, you’re here, being this selfish, dragging Rook into your emotional mess when you know better, EMMRICH. You understood what it meant to let go, to accept the end or maybe it was all for shits and giggles to impress the Lich Lords, fuck if I know.

The thing is, with Emmrich's personality, this is bound to spiral into something ugly and obsessive. He’s the type to internalize rejection and possessiveness under the guise of love, and that never ends well. It’s not just a matter of him being emotionally burdensome; this kind of behavior could turn toxic fast, especially when his obsession with preserving his fragile emotional state starts to override Rook’s autonomy.

Rook deserves more than a relationship that feels like a prison of guilt and perpetual emotional blackmail. Honestly, if Rook knows what's good for them, they should break up with Emmrich, pack up, and move halfway across Thedas. Let Emmrich decompose in his beloved Grand Necropolis. Because the sad truth is, Emmrich's inability to let go of his feelings is rooted in a deeper psychological issue: his fear of loss is so intense that it warps everything around him, leaving no space for anyone else to breathe. And that’s not love; it’s the kind of attachment that drags everyone involved into a slow, suffocating collapse.

That's why if he wants to be a lich, he needs to do it when he's alone, all alone, no love interest.

It’s time to stop treating everyone else like they have to tiptoe around your existence, EMMRICH, just because you chose to become something more than human. You may have transcended death, but that doesn’t give you the right to impose your anxieties on those who haven’t.

Fuel to Fire

AO3 Link - Fuel to Fire

A gift on this eve! Finally got it to a point where I don't mind sharing. Emmlich content, come get some Emmlich and Rook angst. It's got comfort and warmth and I've been with it too long just take it before I start hating it again. Tagging @emmg you asked for it! (oh yeah and the title is just the song I listened to the most, it's how I'm naming things because eugh naming things how). Technically part two in a series, check out Nascent Blight if you need more.

Word Count: ~3k

Relationship: Rook Thorne x Emmlich, M/M

Full story below because why not

Emmrich paced the room, green flickers of his skull mixing light with the soothing glow of the water’s reflection on the ground. Rook sprawled out on the divan, head back on the armrest, eyes closed, and rubbed at his temples. Peeked a moment at the towering necromancer gleaming soft in the muted room.

“Rook.” Emmrich’s stern tone made him squeeze his eyes shut. The lich ceased pacing and stood near the small table at the center. Hands folded behind him he faced the waters. “That was reckless.”

The Warden was still coated in lingering blight from the Wetlands. He’d meant to clean up and go celebrate the Eruption’s destruction on return to the Lighthouse, but it was all he could do to drag himself here. He could still feel the echo of it. Too close, too much.

He gripped his head, pressed hard as he dared to drive away the thrumming recollection of whispers. Thank whatever luck graced him it hadn’t…his hands dropped. One to the ground, the other his chest. Their pressures had provided no relief. It would fade, always had, should have stopped when they burned the thing, but something of it’s nature let that damnable echo persist. That or a head injury, he’d taken some hits.

He sighed. Slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to glance at Emmrich’s back facing him.

“Had to be done.” Equally stern in a quiet way, exhaustion clear.

“You might have left the matter to Davrin.” A resounding voice. The folded hands clenched, then released, flicked to the side as Emmrich turned round to fix Rook with his hollow stare, “Or Evka and Antoine, or any number of other Wardens in Lavendell.”

“Emmrich,” Rook responded more softly, slowly, but kept firm, “I had my reasons.”

“And?” The skull tilted, frustration snipping, “Were those reasons worth it?” Emmrich gestured towards Rook, everything said in that tone and movement. Today had not been easy for the rogue. Taash had to half carry him back.

“Yes.” Grumbling, he swung his legs off the divan, sat up properly to face Emmrich’s accusations. “They were.” He straightened his back and squared off his shoulders, suppressed the pulse built on his forehead with a heavy blink. “Look. I brought Taash because they can burn whatever comes their way. And I brought you because you’re undead.”

Emmrich twitched, almost imperceptibly, at that. Rook might’ve missed it had his attention on the lich been less than absolute, but the movement sent his stomach falling. He bit at his tongue and rushed on.

“We got the job done alright? Lavendell can thrive. Everyone safe.” He rushed the words. Kept them short. Folded his arms. He might’ve looked petulant, but the wear of the day was too loud. Holes in the sleeves, tears on the sides, slash on the leg, all red stained, all healed flesh below, but memories of wounds. Everywhere.

“Darling. What about you?” Emmrich’s voice shook, seeing more than the evident physical. Undead eyes exposed a roiling of lingering red pain whispers, swirling confusion, exhaustion like a leaded blanket.

“Hmm? I’m already blighted, it was no concern.” Rook shrugged, doing his best to appear at ease. Brush off the worry, confirm the wellness of the situation. They were here, they were whole, they…

“Enough.” A snarl of exasperation, Emmrich stepped closer, seeming ever taller as he approached, “Davrin would have joined us had it been no concern. You brought Taash.” There was finality in the words, a stillness as the simmering anger evened and burned with purpose, “I was there, Rook. Your Warden friends were quite clear on the danger that Eruption posed to you.”

Rook grimaced, rubbed his hands, felt over callus, cut, and bruise. It hurt. He added pressure, focused the pain there.

Emmrich was right of course. The lingering pounding in his head was testament to that. What if the Eruption had sparked something? It felt safer for Taash to be there with their fire. Why put more than one Warden at risk? How many was it if not him? If not Davrin? Thoughts roiling he shrank below that green gaze burrowing into him feet away. Rook realized then he’d gone slack jawed, unable to think of an acceptable excuse. But no. He had made the right call.

He snapped his mouth shut.

“Fine!” Rook growled and stood using the armrest with a stifled groan. Patience worn thin after all the drumming in his skull he put his hands to his hips when he reached his full height and glared up at Emmrich.

He didn’t shout, but matched the steaming frustration, “I knew it was dangerous for me. Alright? But I had to do it.” The words came out through grit teeth, biting back the desire to escalate.

Emmrich drew back. Not a step, but into himself. “Dearest...”

“No, don't dearest me.” It came out like a hiss, and Rook leaned the smallest degree forward, “The Grey Wardens need every last person after all this.” His hands flailed out, gesturing vaguely to the world at large, “After Weisshaupt…” A breath found him. The fury caught on his tongue. This shouldn’t be so hard.

He cleared his throat, kept strong, “My jobs done once we’ve killed those gods.” His hands returned to his temples for a moment to steady himself, applied pressure to calm the beat. The blood flushing to his face couldn’t be helping.

Rook gave his head a shake and looked askance, maker how did a skull appear sad, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to face Emmrich in that hunched posture before him. Bent, mourning, pathetic…no, Rook swallowed. Not that. The necromancer didn’t stand alone. The lean was enclosing him, protective. He dared a glance forward.

The lich stood draping the Warden in shadow like some gilded ribbed vaulting. And Rook, an insignificant supplicant come, with soft flesh aching, stinking of blight. Before a cathedral.

“Davrin’s got a book in the works!” He sputtered before he forgot all of the pieces reinforcing his decision. “Antoine makes such things?” Because it had been the right decision, “Can you imagine things if left to Evka’s hands?” They would all flourish after he did his part.

“You think I’d risk a single one of them?” Voice a hushed whisper of desperation. He couldn’t bear it.

No. The gods died next. No one else.

Tomorrow. His mind kept at a furious pace. A last check on Lavendell. Then Treviso, the Crows had word. He could feel cold sweat on his neck, they might have a location. Almost there. Not much longer now, almost safe, and all at once his legs went weak. Rook sank, barely controlled, back down to the divan. He settled with elbows on his knees, hands holding his head, and stared down at the floor. Could feel welling in his eyes, blinked it away.

“Rook,” Emmrich’s voice was slow, the gentle echo of a creek; water over stones as it traveled through him, “I’m sorry.”

Sincerity. Rook could feel it. Feel his nerves still at the serene appeal, “You carry the weight of every decision. Don’t you?” Not a question, a declaration, and in hearing it, so firmly spoken, Rook quaked.

“You were exemplary today.” Finally. A shuddering breath, a tiny lift, that voice of praise, a warming balm.

“My love,” The words sank deep past the skin, something in the tone kneading them firmly within the chest, past bone and into heart where a soul might sit, “let me help you.” Rook sniffed, didn’t trust his voice, dipped a nod once. Emmrich extended his hand, gestured towards Rook’s head.

Movements small, close, Rook leaned in, but then gave start, bit his lip, froze, “..wait.” He still needed to scour, make sure every speck of blight was gone, that could take awhile for hair.

“That’s of no concern.” Emmrich smirked.

Rook looked up as that comforting palm settled soft on his head. Peered past the linen, memories flashing of that arched brow, those lidded eyes, and met a crowned skull, flickering flame. He’d heard it in the tone.

His eyes went wide, tight pain gripped his chest. That was the cost wasn’t it? But then, he felt his heart beat. There was that…the desire...ever since…

'Rook’s Necromancer. An excellent subject to test how long one could go back and forth between life and death.'

Rook blinked at the perfect, beautiful, loving undead skull staring back at him, the whisper of hope escaping from dreams and solidifying here and now.

“You’re safe.” Rook choked out the words.

Then collapsed. Gone so limp he would have fallen from couch to floor had Emmrich not anticipated the movement and dropped to his knees to catch him in his arms.

They dropped together a moment, Emmrich’s arms a cushioning guide. And once stable, once still, he lifted, held the trembling man close, and carefully settled down on the divan with him. The Warden, for his part, was all snot and tears, clinging to the lich’s robes. His arms wrapped tight around the ribcage as he pressed close as he could.

"Emmrich, it can't…” His voice and body shook, words closing off in the shudder of relief.

Emmrich cradled Rook as tight as he dared, a soft hush drifting from him as he brought calm in his firm embrace. There was no measured breathing to guide the man hiccupping into his cloak, so Emmrich purposefully rubbed Rook’s back in the rhythm of a breath, and with a few extra movements green sprites darted from his fingers. All at once sound was still and calm around Rook’s hearing, and then began the sigh of trees, wind through leaves, in measured cadence to help level the rogue’s racing heart.

Rook almost felt a cool breeze on his skin same as he heard it, and the glow of water and flame mixed like light through the leaves to his eyes. He sighed, then lifted his head, buried it beneath the lich’s chin, felt his final quivers fade as a hum traveled in waves through the bones embracing him, back and forth, kissing skin where it touched, a fleeting doting touch. The beginnings of a smile and easy breath came to him at last.

Emmrich’s voice sounded quiet around…in…where his head lay. The traveling hum returned deep and pleasant, warming the skin where it passed. “My love. To think…you worried over me, to such...” Disbelief mixed with adoration, Emmrich’s voice eased its way into Rook’s waiting ears, pure love. The lost words saying more than any uttered.

Rook was steady now, melting instead of shivering, he clung to that genuine smile dawning on his lips, he could have this at least. They couldn’t take this. Rook tilted his head up to whisper to the air where Emmrich’s throat might’ve been.

“I love you.”

He put his head back down as he felt both of Emmrich’s hands move up to massage his scalp. The room was incandescent with green, the necromancer’s palms the epicenter of the glow. Focused. He plied at the Warden’s head. His movements were rhythmic, the magic alive with a pulse and rippling at his direction.

Rook could feel the echos become sated, the answering ebb of the necrotic channeling a path of release, carrying the riptide tight and rebounding in his skull back out to sea. Ease and push, gentle waves of magic and fingers worked the movements with Fade and physical, gently towing that ache out from the Warden’s skull.

Rook yawned, almost a thrum while in Emmrich's care, “Of course I was worried.” And he stretched in small movements, “You immortal fool.” His voice was low, pining, enraptured by the fool he entrusted with his care. Emmrich didn’t reply, his voice occupied in the ending incantations. Otherwise they kept in silence, the soft green glow encasing Rook’s scalp continuing to pulse, dancing with the shimmering from the tank.

“Darling,” when Emmrich's voice finally graced Rook again it sent warmth flashing through him, “I’m safe.” A rolling delight, the aches and pains losing hold, Rook groaned, toes curled as every muscle seemed to tighten, and hold. Then release.

The magic dimmed. Rook breathed heavy, then slow, then measured, calm. Almost asleep.

Emmrich sighed, his voice an echo that resounded through the room. He took a long laborious moment to take off his crown, and with utmost care placed it on the table behind them. Then, barefaced as possible, spoke gentle, the deep echo private now, tumbling only to the Warden’s ears, “But, Sir Thorne.” He looked down at Rook, tilted the man’s face to look up from where it lay on his sternum, kept his tracing fingers there, touch yearning. “You are most unsafe.”

Rook felt his eyes go hot at the words, if only because Emmrich’s couldn’t, and he could hear the despondent tears held in the lich’s tone. He tried to look away, but that meant leaving that soft touch on his chin, he pressed down into the palm instead.

“I’m sorry.” he twisted his head deeper into the hand, whispered the mumbled words into Emmrich’s thumb. The thumb traced Rook’s lips a moment, but seemed distant, moving further away.

“Those are words, Rook.” Emmrich’s hand withdrew, Rook looked up, sensing the gravity in the next words had been stressed by absent touch. “Please. If only out of love for me. Take more thought and action towards your safety?”

Rook gave the barest of nods, mind rebelling against the gross hope of self preservation. He nestled back down and away from the skull’s sight. Emmrich’s voice grumbled in old exasperation, his hands moving to cradle the Warden’s skull and massage along his neck. “If you remain so determined to put your life at risk I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the deepest tombs of the Necropolis. Seal you there until you develop a modicum of sense.”

“That a promise?” Rook’s voice surprised them both, and had Emmrich been able to feel heat his hands might have burned from where they held Rook. So quick and fierce was the flush on the man, so immediate the reply, it came without thought, driven by something deeper.

He could feel the lich’s fingers dig hard into his skin. Maker he really did want...The skull was staring up and away from him now. But Rook could hear the words resound in his own chest, “Don’t tempt me.” A low rolling warning, like thunder from a storm still away. But Rook could sense the ache, felt his heart quicken at what some choice words might lead to, felt the barest tremor in the hands holding him, but then they were gone. The storm gave way to trickling laughter at the thought.

Emmrich moved to extricate himself from the divan, took extra care to settle Rook comfortably in place. Hummed away the lighthearted mirth as he stood free and took off his cloak, gently draped it over the fading Warden, “Seriously, dearest, you mustn't jest.”

Rook held tight to the lich’s cloak and burrowed into it, buried his face deep in the lapel as he muttered half asleep already, “Don’t tease, you started it”.

He yawned. Felt warm, eased his mind to think of falling quiet, but the shiver of dreams crept up at him. The Fade always awaited, didn't it. Rook bit at his cheek, blinked an eye open to peek out from beneath the cloak. Emmrich was still there, though his back was turned to him now, he had taken to quiet pacing again, fish in the tank following as he glittered in the pale light.

“Emmrich.” Rook whispered.

“Hmm?” Emmrich paused midstep, fish paused midswim.

Rook stifled a chuckle, overcome at that moment with overwhelming adoration. He could ask this, a beaming smile hidden beneath the cloak, eye twinkling from beneath the fabric he muttered, “You once comforted me by saying the lich lords were, ‘Unlikely to visit your slumber’.”

Rook mused, calling back to that first time, that first terror. Emmrich had been so excited to share, so animated when explaining, the first time Rook heard the word ‘Lich’. Ice had taken Rook’s veins then. Fresh terror, new fear, but what emotion did he know better? And what a blessing it could be? His blood ran cold. Something deep in his gut warned him, but he ignored it. Looked long at the lich before him, fish following Emmrich’s concerned sway, and let the prickling sensation thaw, there could be warmth here, “Is that…something…you could do?” He finally asked.

“Oh.” The lich seemed to stand taller, an edge of excitement to his tone. “I hadn’t the time to consider it.” He started towards Rook, came to kneel at his side, put a hand on the cloak where the man’s shoulder lay, head tilting in question, “Would that interest you?”

Rook poked more of his head out so that his lips could be read, voice a hush, “Maybe…if you can, just uh check in?” He swallowed, “That song, it's in dreams…it’s worse…” Emmrich’s hushing tones cut off Rook. One hand going so far as to pull the cloak back up to cover the Warden's mouth and tuck him in.

“My love, speak no further. Sleep. Nothing will dare trouble your dreams.”

“Thank you…you know you can troub…”

“Another time darling. Please. Rest.”

Eyes closed Rook could hear the smirk again, felt a heaviness settle in his limbs, swore he was already dreaming when he heard the warmth in the immortal’s voice holding him, was that a lullaby? And sleep took him.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

thoughts on settra

Admirable asshole bone man

Wheelie game strong

Name is too short

[your-fave-is-forklift-certified]

Settra the Imperishable, Khemrikhara, The Great King of Nehekhara, King of Kings, Opener of the Way, Wielder of the Divine Flame, Punisher of Nomads, The Great Unifier, Commander of the Golden Legion, Sacred of Appearance, Bringer of Light, Father of Hawks, Builder of Cities, Protector of the Two Worlds, Keeper of the Hours, Chosen of Ptra, High Steward of the Horizon, Sailor of the Great Vitae, Sentinel of the Two Realms, The Undisputed, Begetter of the Begat, Scourge of the Faithless, Carrion-feeder, First of the Charnel Valley, Rider of the Sacred Chariot, Vanquisher of Vermin, Champion of the Death Arena, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Emperor of the Shifting Sands, He Who Holds The Sceptre, Great Hawk Of The Heavens, Arch-Sultan of Atalan, Waker of the Hierotitan, Monarch of the Sky, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Champion of the Desert Gods, Breaker of the Ogre Clans, Builder of the Great Pyramid, Terror of the Living, Master of the Never-Ending Horizon, Master of the Necropolises, Taker of Souls, Tyrant to the Foolish, Bearer of Ptra’s Holy Blade, Scion of Usirian, Scion of Nehek, The Great, Chaser of Nightmares, Keeper of the Royal Herat, Founder of the Mortuary Cult, Banisher of the Grand Hierophant, High Lord Admiral of the Deathfleets, Guardian of the Charnal Pass, Tamer of the Liche King, Unliving Jackal Lord, Dismisser of the Warrior Queen, Charioteer of the Gods, He Who Does Not Serve, Slayer of Redditras, Scarab Purger, Favoured of Usirian, Player of the Great Game, Liberator of Life, Lord Sand, Wrangler of Scorpions, Emperor of the Dunes, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri’s Legions, Seneschal of the Great Sandy Desert, Curserer of the Living, Regent of the Eastern Mountains, Warden of the Eternal Necropolis, Herald of all Heralds, Caller of the Bitter Wind, God-Tamer, Master of the Mortis River, Guardian of the Dead, Great Keeper of the Obelisks, Deacon of the Ash River, Belated of Wakers, General of the Mighty Frame, Summoner of Sandstorms, Master of all Necrotects, Prince of Dust, Tyrant of Araby, Purger of the Greenskin Breathers, Killer of the False God’s Champions, Tyrant of the Gold Dunes, Golden Bone Lord, Avenger of the Dead, Carrion Master, Eternal Warden of Nehek’s Lands, Breaker of Djaf’s Bonds, and so much more from Warhammer Fantasy is Forklift Certified