Vasilias, Lord of Ariva
|Art by kaio89|
|Classification:||Lich, Planeswalker, Major Asshole|
Vasilias is a Lich, and any who see him would question if he was alive at all. Deep within the ghost cityplane of Ariva, he sits upon his throne, never moving, never speaking. He is little more than a skeleton now, dressed in pristine white robes and golden armor, with dusty skin pulled tight across dried bones.
Vasilias was once a powerful planeswalker. He ruled an empire that covered multiple planes. He was a tyrant, commanding his domain with an Iron Fist. with soulless creatures of stone he could quickly put down any acts of resistance.
When his power weakened by the mending, he found he could no longer control such a vast empire. So, reluctantly, he abandoned his planes, one by one. Until only the city of Ariva on the plane of Ikass remained under his control. He then closed the gates to outsiders and wasn't seen again until the day Ariva vanished.
It's not certain when or how, but at some point, faced with his own mortality, in desperation he gave up his living soul to become a Lich, immortal but undead. He bound his soul to the city of Ariva itself, for nothing else was as precious to him.
One fateful day, his city was threatened. Too weak to defend it he made one final desperate attempt to planeswalk. Whether he was successful is subject to debate. Ariva, which was bound to his soul, was pulled with him into the the blind eternities. Making no attempt to protect them, the citizens of Ariva, and it's attackers, were pulled apart by the blind eternites. The effort left him weak, he found that he was unable to bring his city into a new plane. So, using what little power he had left, he transformed Ariva into a plane of it's own.
Now he sits, alone in his little world, unable to planeswalk or even to move from his throne. But Vasilias still lives, and even in his broken state he is powerful. Capable of bending, and breaking, the minds of any planeswalker foolish enough to enter his realm.
And so the Lord of Ariva sits on his throne, his inevitable resurrection, and waiting for the perfect tool to come and set his plans in motion.
I was once great, I was once powerful. I once ruled over planes innumerable. I brought order where there was chaos, and peace where there was nothing but war. All who dared to opposed me were destroyed, their foolishness forgotten in the annals of history, and all who followed, flourished beyond their wildest mortal dreams.
I am Vasilias! I am The King!
But now... now, I am but a husk of my formal glory, trapped within a prison of my own making. My wonderful city Ariva, ah if only you could have seen it in its true glory, never before had such perfect beauty existed in all of Dominia.
You, young Planeswalker, have asked the nature of this place, how you have found yourself here, and why. The answer is simple, destiny has brought you to me. The threads of fate has never before been so clear, you are here to serve me. You shall be the catalyst of my rebirth, the key to my former greatness. Kneel mortal, before your king.
Art by kaio89
Ren and Vasilias, as seen in The Dead City.
Art by DigitalSurrealist.