Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Alternately weeping and laughing hysterically at his merciless exertions, the Lichy Popo- currently in the form of a man sized Cat wearing a dusty Iron Crown- makes elaborate and precise arcane gestures in the air with his magically articulated prehensile paws.

The spell he is laboring over grows and pulses with energy and meaning as the endless march of cacophonic sounds and images rush through his dessicated undead brain and gather into a tangible magic effect. Streaks of vivid color and motes of swirling magic spin and coalesce, drawing together a crackling net of fell energies meant to eventually be directed at the same precise object(in this case a magically strengthened leaf of paper adhered to the work table) at the same precise moment.

As the spell is about to tangibly punch through into our universe from the mystical weave that surrounds and permeates all things, a feminine voice softly calls the Lichy Popo's truename from the Tower's semi-adjacent suite of bedrooms. Immediately abandoning the complex and expensive spell effect he has painstakingly been evoking for hours, the Lichy Popo rushes off towards his boudoir, his form melting into that of a tall and handsome human with a hungry and anticipatory grin on his face.

He exits the room without even a look back, as the spinning and lashing spell shapes, instead of dissipating as one would expect, settle down over the page of paper like waves of superfine dust. Only the happy echo of muffled sounds from a nearby chamber bear witness as an unholy image of the successful magical experiment takes up existence in the newest page of this fell and dangerous Grimoire that grows daily. The stark and vivid diagram of a new spell-form, a magic of shape-changing that bestows a number of devious and wickedly powerful abilities, wavers into a flat, rune-inscribed representation of itself. The image's lips seem to turn up into a wryly dark smile, magically mirroring those of it's creator.




Darkness steals back into the conjury as the winking lights silently dissipate. Somewhere off in the Tower soft female laughter can heard.

The Tower of Old Light, one of the Lichy Popo's first towers, floats idly in the numb blue-gray horizon of the Astral Plane. Voices can be heard echoing out of the rather open crumbling old tower. Though muffled by the crushing infinity of the endless plane, said voices within can be discerned enough to hear at least that they are at the calculation of tithing phase of some bargain or sale.

A feminine voice peals with delighted laughter as the properties of her purchase are described to her. A male voice methodically intones the description and facilities of the "Peasant Girl Playsuit" as he names it, allowing a practiced smidgen of pride into his tone. "It will fit under any clothes, armor, or padding. It is made of the wondrous fibers of an Eastern plant that is soft as silk but rough like raw cotton. Several times a day it grants one the ability to completely clear ones mind of angst and fear and confusion, bestowing a perfect unbreakable magical clarity. And, of course, it carries our trademark localized charm spell." The pride begins to eek back into his voice slightly.



There is a short weighted silence, if one can call the imperceptible and yet undeniable constant wavering wax and wan of reality that is the Astral Sea's flowing wind true silence. "Oh I just adore your new form! What do you call it? "'The Dancing Ghoul' it is called" replies the male in a deep and smooth tone that sounds like pouring sand and feels like a mudslide in your brain. "The idea came from a uniquely charming Ghoul-King I once had the pleasure of observing. Balagoss, that was how he called himself. It was inspiring, the way he seemed to wear Undeath around his neck like a cerecloth cravat and still women swooned and men cowered before him. I was young and without so much power in those days, but I could see that here was a being to study and emulate. But I'm droning on... would you like me to wrap it up for you?" "Oh no, no" replies the female voice casually with a playful edge. "I thought to just wear it out." The faint sound of cloth falling in a pile around feet rustles out of the open tower. "Bring the outfit over here, won't you? the female voice sounds again, with a huskiness that wasn't there a moment ago. "With pleasure." a contented voice sighs back.

Head bowed over a magical simulacrum of the Tower Treasure, The Lichy Popo; the Great False Lich, the Usurper of Gods and Kittehs, who's evil snuffs out the Sun and who's beneficence makes the Moon poo its pants, concentrates on the physical memory of the enchanted morningstar as he softly chants a repetitive rhyme.
Ceasing abruptly mid-sentence, the almond shaped eyes in his current form's head snap open to reveal dilated cat pupils glowing with risen magic. While he stares lucidly off into the unknown distances of magical commune, a semi-aware image of the spell-foci and its bearer, both bound to the grimoire, struggles as it wavers into an opaque existence. The Lichy Popo keeps the image of the morningstar clear in his head as he speaks aloud, calling out to his distant minion and compelling him to answer...

"Googie... Googie!! Hear my call!"

"Later hey Fey? Later."

Comes the sudden audible response as the Bugbear's gravelly drawl echoes back across the weave. The magical connection strains and quavers like a bowstring, as if the recipient of the call was trying to resist. "Heed me Googie!!" Lichy intones, infusing will and weight into his voice. Adequately compelled, the spell-image of the binding Art becomes more fully realized on the page.
The Lichy Popo pays little attention to the book, seeing as he is through space and time into the bugbears immediate vicinity. He watches amused as two hulking bugbears, bristling with knives and javelins and cleavers and warmaces and hatchets and even more mean little knives fled scampering down a grassy incline accelerating away from Googie and the interposing voice as they hooted in uniform terror. As armed to the teeth as his fleeing associates, albeit with his weapons much more aesthetically brandished, Googie stood with a somewhat stoic expression on his typically bemused face. Also watching the bugbears make their increasingly abrupt exit, Googie sighed, in that AHHH-HRHRURRR-RG-RG-RG-RG-RG purring way that only 7-foot tall bugbears can sigh.

"Real? Steal me deal?" He asked, spitting on the ground. The idea of a frown spearing across the weaves does not quite reach Googie before the Lichy Popo, thinking better of himself, retracts his emotion and places his hand over a small package of tightly wrapped shoots and herbs scribed with a simple rune. In response to his prepared spell the package teleports itself across the connection, appearing balanced on Googie's stylishly matted furry head.

"Oho!" The Bugbear exclaims, reaching up "Forget me 'No'."

"And now Googie? Your report?" Already pawing open the tightly wrapped package, Googie doesn't bother look up as he launches into his monthly report. "Same deal I squeal last meal. Elfs be West, Mans be East, Hacker Clan strong, least monster feast.

Lichy blinked. The Bugbear had never mentioned his clan before, although of course Lichy knew he was from the 'Neck-Hackers' Clan, a bugbear clan of no small fame. He decided on a whim to pursue, to perhaps see if the Bugbear would continue.

"Ah.. and your Clan? They fare well?"

"We throng, all strong. No fright Lord Blight".

The Lichy Popo's eyes widen momentarily, and he struggles to keep his voice under control as he finds the words and calls back across the ether.

"Lord Blight? You mean...?"

"Yup yup". Googie's tone is chipper but carries an unmistakably dire undertone. "Myrkul Lord-Dead and bone school skull heads, all back blight cave, we Hackers South fled."

Not bothering to explain why, Lichy severs the connection and hurries over to a strongchest zealously bound with golden chains. Snapping his fingers, the chains whirl almost violently off of the chest as it pops open slightly, emanating a faint but recognizable greenish glow. Lifting the chest's lid, Lichy's expression turns sour as he regards the amulet that lays within, an amulet that positively radiates a sickly greenish hue.

"He's back." Lichy intones. Spinning on his heel he strides from the Tower Treasure's vault, his greatcloak whipping about him furiously as he goes to warn his beloved.