The tale of the incautious lich
I had just achieved the rank of Defender in
the Fighters Guild and I wanted to "celebrate the event" carrying out a mission
for them. I spoke to the quester and he proposed me to slay a Lich. As soon as I heard
that dreaded word, I began shivering, and he should have noticed, for he added:
"...but I understand it's a dangerous mission. I won't blame you if you do not accept
it. I would not want to deal with a Lich either."
* Writer's note: This story is a bit old for my character: now he
would have no problem whatsoever in dealing with liches*
Probably this words stirred my pride, for I heard myself answering boldly, "It will
be my pleasure to serve the Guild in such a difficult task." During my trip to the
ruins I was sent to, I started to regret my decision, for - I thought - it was induced not
by boldness, but by sheer foolishness! I reached the entrance of the dungeon and, with my
heart in my mouth, I passed the threshold. A complex set of corridors opened before my
eyes. There were slopes going up and down, cross sections and strange twisting
passageways. I will not recount here how much time I spent in that maze trying to find a
trace of the powerful undead (and hoping I would not find it: at least I would have had a
reason to come back without solving my mission). Then I opened a door and I came to a
cross section; in front of me, at the end of a corridor leading upwards there was another
wooden door. I approached it carefully and pushed it: as soon as it was swinging open, I
heard a mighty roar and before my very eyes stood the frightening shape of a lich... the
Lich I was looking for, no doubt.
I retreated, trying to lead him on a most favourable ground, going backwards as fast as I
could, but always facing him. This would prove to be my death, if only the foul undead had
not been so incautious: I had barely reached the bottom of the slope, when the Lich fired
a powerful fireball at me; luck was on my side, though, for the spell landed on the slope
itself with a loud explosion. As a result, I was superficially injured, but the undead had
KILLED himself!
I took a deep breath. I was still alive!!!... and I had carried out my mission as well
(most by chance than by skill, but anyway sometimes even the strongest needs a stroke of
luck). I looted the corpse (more or less a thousand gold pieces and some lich dust...
hehehe) and I was on my way back to the Fighters Guild.
During the return trip I began to wonder: how could a skilled magician like that could
incur in such a gross mistake? Maybe (un)living all these centuries as a Lich had had a
bad influence on his wits as well...
