#lich lords

[toonybrin]

DEATH

✨️Emmlich inspired tarot ✨️

[trevisianlynxx]

I've just had a thought, and I apologise if this has been better articulated before now, but it struck me after seeing [this gif] of Emmrich's introduction. I don't think we ever see that skull glamour again (though it's mentioned in passing dialogue), and I just want to highlight the following.

Emmrich is in a secluded, arguably restricted section of the Necropolis when we meet him (The Shrouded Halls) which implies privacy.

The man is wearing his skull glamour which he doesn't do in any other scene, implying it's not a necessary (and thus purely aesthetic) part of his craft.

He later reveals his desire to be a Lich Lord, which is basically a glorified skeleton.

This leads me to the conclusion that the Veilguard stumble upon Emmrich Volkarin while he's cosplaying and mid-roleplay as a Lich Lord.

[clodicious]

Someone else wonders what might be thinking these three as they observe Rook while Emmrich is going through the lich process, because in my mind it goes:

-Lich 1: Is that young Volkarin’s lover?

-Lich 2: it seems that way...

-Lich 3: they are pretty...

-Lich 1: my lover left me when I told them I was to become a lich :(

-Lich 2: this one seems pretty on board with the whole lich thing...

-Lich 3: where did Volkarin found this weirdo? I want one too :(

-Lich 1: we can ask...if he survives, of course...

-Lich 2: Lucky bastard...

-Lich 3: boom shakalaka

[northernolddragon]

💀💚

[velvet-apricots]

So yeah, basically I have now gone with the headcanon that the sarcophagus Emmrich and Rook spent the night together in is actually the “bed” of a lich.

Like why else would it be there? Why would it be so pristine and clean? Why is it open?

That is clearly a Lich’s bed. They lay down in it when they just feel like zoning out and having some time to themselves, or maybe they use it for meditations that can last years.

Imagine their horror coming back to their bed and realizing somebody has had sex in it. then they just mumble under their non-breath

“Of course. it was Volkarin…”

[winter-wise]

Emmrich talks about the lich lords as if they're very secretive and mysterious and far away from the public eye. But if he becomes a lich, he doesn't hide away much. There's the glamour over his skull, but the ribcage is fully out 24/7, and he doesn't always wear the glamour. But he doesn't talk about violating any rules of lichdom by doing this, so it's probably that the other lich lords just like to be mysterious and live in the shadows only to dramatically reveal themselves at opportune moments. Drama queens.

[senior-mourn-watcher]

Is Lichdom a transcendence of the soul into a complex spirit?

Because the need for so many rituals and final sifting of the soul/judgement makes sense if someone were trying to change their person into such a being.

Thematically it fits too, contrasting sharply with the Evanuris going from spirit to person...

I know there's probably not enough information on this to say for sure, but I'm rolling with this for headcanon now.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Today, I work through a section featuring Myrna and the Lich Lords. No Emmrich nor Iris to be found here. (But I am screaming at something I am going to write next chapter. SCREAMING. Jupiter knows. AAAAAAA!) This is hot off the press. I mean HOT. Just wrote it. If you see any typos or things which don't make sense, no you didn't.

Tagging: @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @caughtnyact @guacamolleee @hedwigoprah @starfleetteddybear @theyearningghoul @razildor (I'M SHAKING YOU) @holdingontojupiter @aldisobey @draco-illius-noctis @sylvienerevarine and anyone else who wants to play. I don't even know who to tag or not tag anymore, but I love seeing everything you all are working on.

“Esteemed Lich Lords of the Necropolis, thank you for seeing me and on such short notice.” Myrna bows,  her eyes carefully scanning the five skeletal figures before her as her hands rest in front of her, fingers laced tightly together. 

This is the right decision. The liches will help, and if nothing else, they will know. Vorgoth is right. 

Several golden rings cut dully into her gloved fingers as she presses her hands even closer. There is nothing that will stop her from doing the duties entrusted her as the most recent Keeper. The Necropolis is her domain; hers to manage and hers to protect. Aren’t they in this together? But if so, then why does she feel so uneasy?

“Myrna,” The foremost Lord returns her bow, pointed crown gleaming dully in the dimmed light of the veilfires, “how might we be of assistance? It has been such a long time since a Keeper has called upon us.”

“My apologies for disturbing what I know to be important work, but at Vorgoth’s behest, I have sought this audience to speak about the recent shifts in energy in the lower floors of the Necropolis. Surely, you all have noticed it?”

None of the Lords so much as flinch as she stands before them, and Myrna sighs internally. Hardened bone and a stoic, flickering green meet her eyes. She would have better luck with one of the many animated skeletons at divining their intention than she would have here. To some extent even Vorgoth allows their gestures to color their speech allowing for an accurate read of what limited range of emotion they choose to convey.

Shoulders back, Myrna. You are unmovable; do not allow them to see your façade to crack.

“I have sent out several parties of Watchers to investigate the situation, yet none of them return with more than reports of strange flows of energy. None of them so much as see the denizens of the deep stir.”

Still nothing. Not even so much as the twitch of a finger.

Deathly stillness fills the room, the sound of the sand beneath her shifting quietly, yet she continues. “It is my duty as Keeper to maintain the sanctity, order, and safety of the Watchers who protect the Necropolis and theirs in turn to guard our sacred dead, so if there is something that I should know, if there is some small slice of wisdom which you could share, it would be in all of our benefit, my Lords.”

Steadily, one by one as if in a cascade, the liches begin to turn their empty eyes towards the Elder at their center who stares out into the dark of the space before him; bare, stark, and revealing nothing. The sharpened lines of the chamber all converge onto a single point: him. A motif which is a subtle departure from the rest of the halls of the Necropolis, where lines join to create a pattern of hexagons which nestle snugly together in perfect symmetry—a symbol of how each Watcher fits together. Remove one piece and the balance is broken. The entire Necropolis along with the Watch would fall. Symbiosis.