Moon Elves in the North used to worship the Goddess of the Moon, trees, and nature. Yet the curse of chromatic dragons changed them. The curse upon the common Moon Elves even affected their goddess—not directly, but through the faith of her followers. Faith is given freely; the chromatic dragons' curses twisted the Moon Elves into drow.
The drow used their faith to pull the Moon Goddess into a new aspect: the Queen of Mushrooms—chaos, evil, drow. As a result, the Moon Elves were left without the protection of a god, and were slaughtered by humans.
The way the dark elves changed the Moon Goddess into the Queen of Mushrooms was through the True Name "Veythra." Their worship corrupted the kind goddess and turned her into the Queen of Mushrooms. Ever since the Moon's fall and the Mushroom Queen's rise, gods have hidden their Names; whoever speaks them draws a god's gaze.
"Curses, Names, and Poisonous Faith," by Sum'gial. As Ahr'zel read the ending of the book on curses, the Eight-Monocled Devil, who was considering changing his True Name, felt a shiver down his spine. The cold, uncaring way the lich wrote about his own race unsettled Ahr'zel. He was a lesser archduke, yet he felt afraid of this mortal.
The King of Hell's Name was taboo. Names held power; even reading a god's Name gave him an understanding of their domains. He wanted that Hand of God. After the conversation with the lich, he examined every inch of this place—only the priesthoods of Change or Lies could make a dimension this malleable. Devils rising to godhood was nothing new; the fallen golden dragon held a racial godhood.
The problem was that his real name was known by an Archduke. He sighed, knowing he had fallen into the lich's trap. The lich was capable of casting legend-level Enchantment. Ahr'zel wondered why, in the sweet Nine Hells, a lich would study the Enchantment school at all.
After extensive consideration, Sum'gial decided to exchange his class stratification research with the Elegant Goblin. They would sign a Contract of Ilyron. He didn't want a close alliance yet—he and the goblin barely knew each other—but a loose pact would do. In time, he meant to pull the other members of the chat group into orbit as well.
No legendary undead is a fool; if he wanted allies, he would have to pay a price. They held only the necromancy portion of the Ther'vassi inheritance. Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Enchantment, Evocation, Illusion, and Transmutation were scattered across the universe. Only necromancy—of little use to the common goblin populace—had been supported by aristocratic circles.
Sum'gial sighed. The work of an OCD lich never ended.
He opened the Forums of the Damned, sent a private message to the Elegant Goblin, and waited—patient as stone—for a reply.
Vyrgil of Nosgoblin — POV
To Vyrgil of Nosgoblin,
I am Sum'gial, lich of Death. Regarding your inquiry on class stratification: I'm willing to share my findings, but only under a Contract of Ilyron establishing non-aggression and mutual defense between us.
If agreeable, I will forward a draft with terms on scope, duration, jurisdiction, and dispute resolution.
With measured respect,
Sum'gial
—hopefully your future ally
As the posh vampire goblin read the message, Vyrgil thought, This lich is certainly noble-like. And whoever heard of undead signing contracts? Regardless of the outcome, he was amused. Even before becoming a vampire, Vyrgil had been lucky. His enormous luck ensured that, regardless of others' intent, he would profit one way or another.
Vyrgil didn't know whether he was favored by the God of Destiny or any other deity, but he did know this: he would have fun with the lich—regardless of the lich's wishes. Now… where had he set up the random teleportation circle? He would need it to reach the lich.
Selithrae — POV
Dark elves—drow—born from corrupted Moon Elves were rejected by the sun. Light hurt their eyes and burned their skin like a splash of hot oil. The shade in the Northern Mountains showed them the way to the Underdeep. Below the surface world—where dwarves dug deep, where no sun shone—dark elves found their place of living.
The harsh life Underdeep made the race even more cruel; acts of cannibalism—even consuming other intelligent beings—became common. As their power and numbers grew, so did their ambitions. The first act of poisonous faith was driven by the gods' curses on the goblin race; as dark elves watched what happened to the goblins, they became more firm in their resolve.
Their numbers far surpassing the Moon Elves', they sought to subvert the Moon Goddess. They succeeded and failed at the same time: the Mushroom Queen born from their actions suited the Underdeep perfectly—capricious, evil, and undoubtedly a dark-elven goddess. The Mushroom Queen of the Underdeep punished the dark elves for their actions.
The God of Gods, the Almighty, punished every god for their curses and no longer allowed gods to attack mortals directly.
Most of the Moon Elves, without a god's support, were killed by the remnants of the chromatic dragons.
"Fall of the Moon Elves" by Sum'gial the lich. As the Wight of the North, Duchess of the Fallen Moon Elves, finished the history written by the lich, she clenched the worry beads left by the Moon Goddess. Once chosen of the Moon, Selithrae Nerythiel, Frost Wight of the Northern Mountains, could only soothe the rage she felt with mycelbrew brewed by her twice-fallen cousin.
How ironic for the duchess that the history of the Moon Elves was written by an lich born from a dark elf. Selithrae blamed herself for failing to protect what was left of the Moon Elves, even as an undead. She remembered that night perfectly: she was leading a hundred-odd Moon Elves in prayer. Instead of blessings, the drow raiders rode in and destroyed what remained—her beautiful daughter among them.
Her regret and hatred were immense enough to bring her back as an undead. The moment she awoke as a wight was the moment she realized humans were looting the graves of fallen elven warriors—their weapons, their magical knowledge. After all the sacrifices they had made, seeing humans—led by a female archmage—desecrating the fallen drove her mad.
In her rage, she activated a forbidden magic, killing most of the humans who were there at the time. The forbidden circle hidden under Moon Elf territory unleashed the Eternal Winter, making everything in the North cold and unfeeling. Eirwen Vael, the human archmage, took the surviving humans beyond the effects of the Eternal Winter, and hatred made the two women face each other countless times.
Sipping summer-warm mycelbrew while reliving her memories, the duchess suddenly felt spatial fluctuations. She turned toward the ripple. A three-foot-tall goblin wearing a suit and a bow tie appeared from nowhere. Exasperated, she sighed—then smiled.
"Hello, it is a lovely day, ain't it? It has been some time since I have come to visit the duchess," Vyrgil said with a gentlemanly bow—and promptly fell face-first into the ice.
"What brings you to the land of Eternal Winter, you little vampire?" Selithrae asked.
"It is not my fault that I am little—I was a teenage goblin before I became a vampire," he complained. "I was going to visit Sum'gial the lich; for some reason I ended up here."
"Oh? Then you must need something from me to go there," Selithrae said, thinking of the amount of luck Vyrgil had—or you must need me to go there. His ridiculous luck forced anyone Vyrgil needed to comply with his wishes, whether they wished it or not.
Selithrae traced a seal. A door appeared out of nowhere. "That's my treasury. Do take a look, and take what you need—if there is something you need."
"Eh, that door is familiar to me." He put a hand on his chin. "I remember that door from last time. There is nothing I need there," Vyrgil said.
This was the reason she didn't like Vyrgil: he could enter any place, take anything, and leave. The ridiculous luck he had protected him as if the God of Destiny were his father. The evil things he did innocently all turned to his favor. He did things without meaning, simply for fun—yet fate favored him as if he were its son.
She liked him as well. The innocence he radiated, despite being a vampire, reminded her of elven children of old.
Never once had the help she had given gone unreturned; she even earned more than she spent. That's why she never stopped him—she had even helped him more than once. They were unofficial allies, in a sense.
"So, tell me: why are you looking for that lich?" she asked as she prepared the goblin's favorite dragon-blood wine.
Sum'gial POV
Sum'gial was befuddled when he received a message from the Elegant Goblin. Why was the goblin coming over? How was he going to get here? Did he even know where "here" was? Sum'gial's plan had been to build a bi-directional teleportation circle so he could send books and ideas back and forth. Why, on Orbisar, would he want a goblin here?
Sum'gial didn't mind guests; although there were no living beings here for the goblin to snack on, he would figure something out later.
For now, he wanted answers from Ahr'zel. As he entered the library, Sum'gial took a look around. His OCD drove him to redo the already arranged shelves—dusting a little here, squaring the spines there.
Ahr'zel glanced at the lich. "Why are you reorganizing shelves that are already done?"
"I am showing you your future," Sum'gial replied dryly.
"My future is to arrange shelves non-stop?" Three of his eight monocled eyes began to twitch.
"The only way to change a devil's True Name is to deepen their obsession. You don't possess the better qualities—affection, love, mercy—but you do have pride, sloth, wrath, lust, gluttony, greed. If I amplify any of those, you will bleed away your lawfulness. The only trait safe to amplify, in my opinion, is your lawfulness." Sum'gial looked at Ahr'zel seriously.
"So I choose a trait to amplify—and that trait will change my personality?" Ahr'zel asked.
"In layman's terms, yes. In reality, it's more complicated. Think of your soul as a ball of yarn; every emotion and strand of personality is connected. I will simply amplify your lawfulness to the point of obsession. Since it's a magical change, it will be permanent," Sum'gial said.
"Why did you study Enchantment? It couldn't be for me…" Ahr'zel replied, wiping dust from a monocle.
"Why ask? Will the answer change your choice?" Sum'gial turned back to the shelves, half-hoping something would trigger his OCD.
"It won't change my choice; it will change my opinion of you. Did you use this spell on yourself? I had my subordinates check the archives—we pay attention to every legend. You were so chaotic before…" Ahr'zel let the words trail off.
Sum'gial moved to a different shelf. "You will receive less of the Hand of God if I answer that question. Are you sure you want to ask?"
"With an Archduke of Hell involved, I will get only a small share in any case. My chances of pulling any godhood from it are already low…" he said, again trailing off.
"I am planning to summon the King of Hell as a witness to our treaty. Regardless of the archduke, you will get your due," Sum'gial replied—as if summoning the King of Hell were no more troublesome than conjuring a low-level skeleton—while he squared the books in front of him.
"You are truly mad. You want to summon the King of Hell into the mortal world—sha-hahaha!" Unable to help himself, Ahr'zel laughed. "I am in. The rewards are numerous; the risks, considerable. Sha-hahaha! Keep your secret, lich—sha-haha!"
Sum'gial kept arranging the shelf, unbothered by the devil's madness.