Dregoth
- Born
- 122 KA (2,044 years ago)
- Died
- 164th King's Age (-1,981 years ago)
- Age at death: 63
- Cause of Death
- Slain by the gathered Sorcerer-Kings
- Aliases
- Ravager of Giants
- The Dread King
- Family
- Unknown (adopted daughter: Pip)
- Racial characteristics
- Human when alive, lich, partially draconic
- Sex
- Male
- Height
- 6'4"
- Weight
- 135 lbs
- Hair
- None
- Eyes
- Fel green
- Affiliations
- Champions of Rajaat, The Necropolis
Dregoth is a former Sorcerer-King, once ruler of Giustenal, before a coalition of his fellow Champions of Rajaat laid waste to his city and slew him. However, this was not his end, as he reconstituted from a phylactery, having prepared for this eventuality. In the caverns below his city, he began to rebuild, raising all those he could from the overcity as undead servants, to build the Necropolis. For almost two millennia, he has built his forces, while researching ever more powerful necromancy. His most powerful lieutenants, who dubbed themselves Dead Inside, projected his will across the Tablelands, gathering resources, taking slaves, and making it possible to ensure his triumphant return to the world stage.
Ancestry
Dregoth was born human, in the Kingdom of the Pyreen in the Last Age. His family's lot was to clean the sewers of the City of Many Colors, capital of the Kingdom, and maintain the plumbing systems that kept its lavish fountains running, and its beautiful gardens green. Muck-rakers and pipe-uncloggers they were, and it wasn't a happy life, but it taught him a certain humility.
After learning arcane magic at the hands of Rajaat, he endeavored to transcend his lowly form and acheive immortality. He learned of dark magicks that could appropriate the racial traits of others, and he turned them towards those he coveted most: the Pyreen. Through much experiment--and many dead Pyreen--he devised a spell to give himself draconic traits, partially transforming him into a dragon. Appalled, the other Champions discovered how he did so, and resolved to destroy him for his hubris and his crimes. Seeing this coming, he prepared another ritual, to seal his soul away deep in the earth, allowing him to regenerate from death itself.
In 164 KA, the scenario he foresaw came to pass. The combined sorcerer-kings and queens were far too powerful to match, and he and his city were destroyed. While his originally body was annihilated, his soul was preserved in the phylactery. Having pacted with the native insectoids of the caverns below, they fed his necrotic machine the flesh and blood needed to grow him a new body, not quite identical to the old, this one infused with necrotic power, making it far more resilient, and removing any need for life-sustaining nutrients he once relied upon.
Now, he is part human, part dragon, and all lich, with powerful necrotic abilities, an expanded mind with draconic senses and memory, and deep mastery of the arcane, particularly black magic and necromancy.
Appearance
Dregoth grew awkwardly tall, with knobby knees and elbows, a sunken chest, and sallow complexion. He was not a looker in life; his body was built for the hard work of mucking out the underside of the wondrous Pyreen capital. He aged normally until his mid-50s, when he incorporated Pyreen traits into himself. His visage twisted into a dragon/human hybrid, his mouth drooping downward in a not-quite snout, and his head and spine sprouting horns. He has scales, but only in some parts of the neck and head, including his now-hairless scalp. From his arms and shoulders sprout a membrane, which stretches between his now much-elongated fingers; these wings can be spread out to provide limited flight. His fingernails are long, thick, and curved to a point, and his toenails are outright claws, capable of gripping stone and lesser materials to support his weight. So he appeared until his death and rebirth.
Now, his complexion has gone from sallow to dead, simultaneously looking to be on the edge of total breakdown due to decay, and also hard as stone. His eyes have sunk into pits of black, from which beady, shiny draconic irises can be seen. From the black of his pupils, a fel green light shines from deep in his soul. He reeks of death and formaldehyde, while also constantly burning and smoking ever so slightly with a sulfuric, not-quite-dragonfire.