Cedric Credence, Lich
Cedric Charles Credence
"I was the fourth in line. We had all been tied up, lying in rows in the consecrated yard. Then they came in with the poles - each a foot in diameter, and twelve feet long. I closed my eyes as the red-skinned demon approached, but he slapped me and said to open them or lose the lids. I did, and he rolled me on my side. I saw the broken tombstone and realized I was lying on the grave of Caedus the Unwavering."They dug next - tiny creatures summoned from the Pit swarmed over us, and quickly burrowed into the ground by our feet, opening two-foot-deep holes just large enough to take the end of the poles. A few of my companions just then realized what was coming, and began praying loudly to Lord Vicien. I stayed silent - Lord Vicien would save us if it were his will, or we would be reborn in the Empyrean as his warriors. When the holes were dug, and the burrowing demons left us, I tried to prepare myself for what was to come. I was a Blackguard of Vicien, damn it, and I would face my fate with all the strength that came with it.
"I smelled them before I could see them. Rotting flesh and maggots, burning hair and blood, preceding the sounds of retching coming from my fellows. I tried to hold it in, although when the goat-headed demon leered at me, my stomach rebelled. I lay there retching bile, as the creature laughed. Then he grabbed my bound hands and hauled them to the post. I felt the wooden stake touch my wrist, and before I could react, a hammer came down and in one blow drove the spike through both arms and into the the post. I screamed then, in agony, as he pounded on the spike a few more times to fully bury it in the post. I had never imagined pain such as that and thought it the worst thing imaginable until he began to lift the post, dropping the end in the hole as he brought it fully upright. Dangling from the spike through my wrists as he secured the base, my mind was consumed with the burning torture consuming my arms.
"I dangled there, the pain increasing with every breath, as I watched a forest of poles being erected around me. They were no longer in neat rows, although I didn't know it at the time. Once they were all raised up, he appeared.
"He exuded power, and I couldn't take my eyes off him, even in my current state. He looked over his forest of suffering, his face hard and cold. When he was satisfied, he approached the commander. I couldn't hear what he said, but I could see the knife in his hands, and how he drew blood as he slowly dragged it across the commander's face. He pressed harder, carving a sigil, and the sucking sound as he peeled the skin away would have had me retching again if I could have raised myself up enough to do so. The commander spat in his face, but the man simply smiled and placed the flap of skin in a bag at his waist. He then squared off in front of the commander, and I could not see what happened that made the commander scream so loudly. But the man pulled back, the commander's intestines in his hands, and I nearly broke. I was praying to Vicien to save me, to save all of us, knowing it was pointless.
"The commander was still conscious, somehow, and enduring a pain greater than mine. I focused on him, knowing that we must endure. That with faith in Vicien, we would survive this, and the man would be struck down. The man moved on to the next in line, a novice priest whom I knew as one of those who cleaned the stables. He was praying to Vicien as well, and there was some response - a glimpse of the Lord's holy light began to form around him, but could not be sustained. The man looked on with that cold, impassive face, waiting for whatever it was to end. When the light faded, he shoved his hand into the priest's mouth and ripped his tongue out by the root. I was positioned to see this all too clearly and shut my eyes, but as soon as I did my eyelids began to burn. I quickly opened them, wanting to be able to look the man in the face when it was my turn, and to honor the commander by also spitting in his eye.
"So I saw the blood running from the priest's mouth, and the terror in his eyes. He shook, throwing his head violently back and forth, and I thought he would soon rip his arms right off the stake. But flesh is more resilient than that, it seems, and he quickly exhausted himself and dangled from the spike like the rest of us. Once he did, the man lashed out, and I saw the blade drag across the priest's belly and saw the cascade of blood and viscera spill out of him. The man picked up the priest's intestines, and I realized he had dragged the commander's along with him. He wove them together, then kept ahold of one set - I had no idea whose, at that point - and walked to the next in line.
"The next was a young squire, barely old enough to be a member of the sect. He was just a few feet from me, and I could make out a few of the words the man said to him. Something about freedom and an end to this. I could hear the squire, and he kept repeating the Vicien creed, "Greed and pride drive us forward, and I am proud of my greed." The man did not seem to care about this, and he began to carve the squire's chest. I believe he sliced off the boy's right nipple, and added it to the pouch at his waist. I assumed, then, that the tongue must have gone there as well when I was not watching. The squire continued chanting, forcing himself on even while being cut. But he could not continue as the man pressed the knife into his belly. For this one, he did it slowly. The knife slid in, and the man used a sawing motion as he drew the blade across the squire's guts. Each inch must have been greater agony, and the squire stopped chanting and began screaming. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, "I will, I will". But the man kept sawing, looking the squire in the eye, and this time I heard him clearly. "Too late," he said, "your time has passed." And the squire's guts spilled to the ground, and the man picked them up to twist them around the guts of the previous victims.
"I was next. I looked at the commander. He was still alive, but his eyes showed he had gone mad from the pain. The priest was barely holding on - he was only able to draw a few breaths every minute. And the squire was weeping as he looked at his intestines, covered in dirt, wrapped around the intestines of the others. I could barely breathe, although it was from dread rather than the torture of being hung from a spike. The man turned to me, and as he approached, I saw the first emotion on his face since he appeared. He looked at me with compassion. He said to me that he did what he must, and he wished it did not need to be this way. But one other thing he needed, and what he had offered to the others, was freedom. That was what he sought, and that was what he was offering to the first to agree to it. He told me I could choose. I could hold fast to Vicien and spit in the man's face like the others, in which case I would be another part of the sacrifice. He told me my entrails would be spilled, and they would form the great sigil that would allow the ritual to be completed. Or, I could agree to be the witness, and I would survive. Without a witness, the ritual would fail, and everyone who died here would have died for naught, as he and his minions would move on to the next sect and repeat the process. Eventually, someone would be the witness, and the killing would end. All I had to do was accept, and I would live, and the other sects of Vicien would be saved from this torture.
"And may the deities all curse me for it - I accepted. I said I would be his witness, and I begged to be taken off the post. I was ashamed even then, but the pain was unbearable, and the idea of being sliced open to be part of a ritual was more than I could bear. And then I saw the real emotion on his face - the glee at having found the weak link that would allow him to succeed. He opened his pouch and pulled out an iron shaft, the end twisted into a sigil that radiated the dark Morbius. The sigil began to glow with heat, and he pressed it against my chest."
With this, the former Blackguard opened his shirt, showing the brand of the sigil in the center of his chest. I understood what he meant by the dark Morbius - I could still feel it in the brand. But he kept opening the shirt, and I saw a horror so much worse than the brand. I saw the cloth sling that he had fashioned around his waist to hold his intestines and cover the gaping hole in his gut.
"This is my 'freedom'. He didn't release me - he had them move my post to a rise overlooking the cemetery, and they dragged in another to take my place. He kept going from person to person, making his way through 99 posts, eviscerating everyone. Others tried to make a deal, to at least be spared this, but he was done making deals. Somehow I could hear it all clearly from my vantage, and every person who begged for mercy was told that there was none left, that I had already used it all. Some cursed my name, others cursed the man, or Vicien, or their own mothers. But they all ended up with their guts on the ground and tied in with the guts of the others. I saw how he carefully positioned each new tendril, forming a massive magic symbol. When he had completed all 99, his pattern was done, and the dark Morbius flooded the land. Vicien's consecration was destroyed in an instant, and the land became the realm of the undead.
"And then, he came for me. He was still a man as he walked up the hill, although I could already see his flesh desiccating. His eyes were becoming black pits, and his nails were turning into sharp claws. As he reached me, he could no longer be called human - his ritual had succeeded, and he had become an undead abomination. He called out to me, saying that I must witness his becoming to the world. I was free to go where I would and I could, and I would survive to tell the world of what occurred here. Then he thrust his clawed hands into my belly, and ripped open the wound you see before you. My guts spilled to the ground, and he turned and walked away. He disappeared into the darkness, along with all of his minions, and I waited to die.
"That was three hundred years ago. I have borne this wound, this pain, ever since. I have lived centuries beyond my natural life in constant agony from the wound, and all I can do is pray that one day, I can be released into oblivion. I've told you my story. Share it. Put it in a book like the first, and spread it as far as you can. Perhaps if I spread the story far and wide, my duty as a witness will end, and I can finally find peace in death."
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Cedric grew up in the Consanguineous Credence Clan, where he had access to the best possible magical training and a large pool of resources to help improve his skills. He was using minor magics to clean his room by the time he was five and achieved the base war wizard status by mastering lightning bolt at the age of 15.
Deciding not to pursue a career as a war wizard or to take the risk of adventuring, Cedric found he had a talent for creating magical items. Potion and scroll-making were standard skills taught by his elders, and he had always shown a talent for it, but his true talent was revealed when he was first tasked with helping his uncle to make a set of immovable rods to stabilize a cage. He noted a few changes that could be made to the rods allowing them to work together in a way that would reinforce the stability and require what was imprisoned to move all of the rods at once to escape. With this, he was fast-tracked to the exploration of magical items. His major flaw of lacking creativity in designing new items was recognized, although his talent for improving existing ones made up for it. His masterpiece, Cedric's Connected Chest, was a combination of several different magical effects recombined into one brilliant device.
Cedric had burned out on magic item creation by that point and wanted to focus on acquiring knowledge. He took the Chest and headed out to see the world, visiting any library or trove of materials he could gain admittance to. Some of these troves were in the wreckage of cities that fell during the Shattering, so his combat skills had to improve to allow him to delve into the ancient ruins. Soon, he had piles of documents with information that hadn't been properly examined in centuries. Unfortunately, he soon became disillusioned by this, finding many conflicting bits of history or science that made him question the worth of his collection.
He was drifting back to magic item creation, seeing it as a path to truth he could control. He was near Craghold at the time, and met a priest of Fierte while resting at a roadside inn. They began discussing magic item creation, and crafting in general, while they shared a meal and a bottle of wine. Cedric was impressed with the philosophy of the priest and the Father and agreed to come and visit the Forge. He hoped to find a spark of inspiration but ended up finding a spark of love.
At the Forge, he was introduced to the various members of the faith, but he had eyes only for Olenna. He first saw her working the forge, and he was awed by the strength she showed as she hammered out a massive bar of Fierte's Steel into what would become a massive two-handed sword, more fit for a goliath or even a giant than a human. He watched her shape the massive bar into a thing of beauty, and was already smitten by the time she finished and began to strip off her apron and mask. It took him weeks of hanging around the forge before he could work up the courage to speak with her - the descendants of Lord Credence are either masters of seduction or rather embarrassing at it, and Cedric was one of the latter - and he never did get up the courage to woo her. She was not as nervous, however, and after he had been there for two months she finally grabbed him and pulled him to her room. The two were constant companions from that point on and had arranged to wed the following summer.
Craghold was growing at the time, and the Forge was looking to increase its reach and trade more widely. They found that the Vicien Order had established some caravans connecting some of the local kingdoms, and Cedric hoped to work out a deal with them. The other members of the Forge were uneasy about it, knowing that the greed of the Vicien's was legendary. He argued that Fierte and Vicien were connected by Pride, and said that their shared dedication to that virtue would allow them to work together well. Vicien's dedication to order should also help, as they would be more likely to abide by any contract they would create. Besides, they were the only ones with a good enough network to truly spread their goods around the continent.
Cedric had miscalculated, not truly understanding just how different the aspect of greed was from his virtues. The Order welcomed him and seemed open to trade. When Cedric showed off the Fierte's Steel longsword he and Olenna had made to show off their work, they became very interested. The discussion soon revolved around the material, how it was made, and how much could be produced. Cedric answered their questions openly, assuming they were important to making a deal. The Order put him up in comfortable rooms, and negotiations stretched on for weeks. Finally, the leader of the order told him they could not make a deal, and threw him out of the compound.
Cedric returned to the forge and discovered why. The building had been burned, leaving only the stone structures still standing. That it had survived as well as it did was a testament to the abilities of Fierte's chosen. Cedric entered the building to find his beautiful Olenna lying dead, having clearly been holding the door against attackers. The number of wounds she sustained was staggering, and Cedric was overcome with grief. He fell beside her, and did not rise again for several days. Dwarves from the mountain came to the Temple and tried to help him, but he pushed them away in his grief.
Grief turned to hatred, and he left the Forge and Craghold without looking back. He needed more knowledge and he knew where to start. A ruin to the west, past the badlands and into the dead zone, where he had turned back before reaching the innermost depths. The walls of that place had radiated rage from deep within the stone, and the carvings were disturbing images of worlds ending. He had left because he wanted nothing to do with the power that resided deeper within, but he was willing to take any path in his quest for revenge.
He made his way to the ruin and used every scrap of magic at his disposal to fight through the undead creatures that protected the innermost sanctum. He reached the deepest recess and found a massive stone doorway, covered in mystical runes that formed a pattern that exuded power and darkness to his eyes. The pattern was similar to the runes he had seen throughout the ruins, a culmination of everything else. But the pattern was also damaged - something had struck the door and broken several of the runes, preventing the power from flowing to the center as it should. It still held the door closed, but Cedric was able to break the seal and enter.
There, he found the master of the ruins, a lich who had been trapped inside for unknown ages. He thought it was dead at first, as it seemed to be devoid of energy and unmoving. But as he approached, he felt like something within the creature was stirring, and he stopped well out of reach. The creature lifted its head to look at Cedric, his skin cracking and flaking as he moved. It tried to speak, but nothing but a croak came out. Cedric had seen some information on liches in his research and could tell that the creature was on the verge of collapsing into a demilich. The runes on the door had likely funneled in soul energy, and when it was damaged the lich ceased to get the energy required. Had he arrived a few decades later, there would likely have only been dust and a skull.
Either way, he didn't care. He snuffed out what little energy was left in the creature, and looked for its phylactery. He spent days searching, finding nothing. He turned then to contacting the Empyrean, looking for a being that might be able to show him the lich's hidden trove. The first few times he tried, the connection reached the Gods, who refused to help him as he wanted. But when he connected with Malignom, he found the answers he needed.
Over a year went by before Cedric emerged from the ruins, and he was prepared to take his ultimate revenge. He needed power to destroy those responsible for killing his love, and the path of the lich had opened before him. He had already sacrificed much during his time in the ruins, and his body had been purified to a state that would allow him to cross over. Now he needed the energy to do so, and to demonstrate the will to power. For this, he sought out members of the Vicien Order, wanting to concentrate all of his pain on them. For years, he hunted them down, sacrificing them to drain their energy and create the potion of concentrated death he would need to transform. When that was ready, he approached the same sect that he had initially attempted to form a trade alliance with. He used several items he had collected with the guidance of Malignom to trap everyone inside the temple, then sent in wave after wave of demonic minions to capture every living soul in the place. The minions died by the thousands, but in the end, he had captured more than 150 of the Viciens, while all of the rest had been killed. More than enough to power the transformation along with the death potion.
The sacrifice of the 99 and the 1 was completed, and Cedric was no longer human. He had crossed into immortality and power, and could exert his will on the world. He began to plan further research, further exploration into the true meaning of magic and death. Ideas about directions his research could take exploded in his mind, and he had plans that would outlast the age. A small voice called out in the back of his mind, of justice for Olenna, but it was no longer a concern of his.
For centuries, he researched, learning new magics and making new connections. He discovered ways to take mortal power and squeeze more out of it, expanding how much he could use before needing to rest. But soon enough, he began to question why. He had to feed his phylactery to keep going, and there were times he wondered if it was even worth it. He had made amazing discoveries, that he could share with no one. He had grown powerful, but he had no use for it other than to extend his existence. He considered letting go, decay into a demilich, and wait for oblivion.
But before breaking down, his lair was assaulted again. He'd endured many of these over the years, which provided for the souls he needed to survive. Now that he was letting go, he wanted the invaders to just leave, but they kept pushing through. His minions were devastated, although they did succeed in whittling down the number of attackers. Eventually, only two remained, but those two would be worthwhile enemies. Perhaps this was better - rather than become a demilich, he could fall to these two and end everything. They would have to earn it - he didn't have it in him to just lie down and die. But it would be a fine ending if they could succeed, and his phylactery was sitting by his throne so they wouldn't be likely to miss giving him a final end. All of it was upended when the leader of the two spoke, however. Cedric's path changed again when the man said, "Hello, uncle."
Lord Credence had sought him out, prepared to end the stain on the Credence legacy. But he, too, could contact other planes, and after weeks of discussions had come up with a different plan. According to the Devils and the Gods, liches are inherently evil. The transformation process was too much - any semblance of the bright Morbius had to be driven out to succeed, while the dark Morbius was gathered and concentrated. But the others - Fathers and Mothers, Anarchs and Lords - all said that evil was not the only possibility. If a lich was oriented to the Ecologus or the Dharmus, they could still act in a manner beneficial to those Truths. The family legends about Cedric were of his skill at crafting and his dedication to Fierte, so Credence believed that he could focus on crafting and not give in to the dark Morbius.
Cedric surrendered to his great-nephew and agreed to follow him. He was taken to the Coastal Citadel and sealed away, where only other members of the Clan could reach him. There, he was able to feed the phylactery with the souls of the many things that died in the Mire - the cycle of life and death was extreme there, and provided enough energy to keep the lich whole. Locked away from the rest of the world, Cedric now works with Lord Credence on the family business while he hides from any hunters who may still seek his end.
Education
Cedric was trained in magic and arts by his father, Cyrus Credence, and through the various spirits the Credence clan has enchanted over the ages. Through them, he not only took the initial steps to become a wizard, mastering lightning bolt by the age of 15, he also became a skilled researcher. He created his masterpiece, a chest that he linked back to the Credence Cash Cache, allowing access to the family wealth at any location, and allowing treasure to be transferred to the Cache easily.
Upon acceptance as a master of magical creation, Cedric left to further his research. He traveled widely, visiting every magical tower or library he could find. His collection of tomes and folios became the largest single collection in the world and the basis for what is now Credence's Comprehensive Compendium. By the time he was 25, he was widely recognized as one of the brightest minds on the continent.
Employment
As a scion of the Credence clan, although not in the main line, Credence did not want for money as a young man. He freely spent from this during his initial travels to search for knowledge, and he had made a noticeable dent in the coffers in his 20s. But as he became secure in his power, his research turned more to delving into ancient ruins, and he began to replace much of the gold he had been using.
His only true job in his life has only come in the last few decades, when his brother's descendent, the current Lord Credence, asked him to join the Credence's Cunning Collection organization to research magic items. Lord Credence's talent for identifying needs in the world needed someone like Cedric to help turn those ideas into reality.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Cedric was accepted as a master of Artifice by the clan at the age of 18, having created a unique magic item for his masterpiece. This allowed him access to the family coffers, which afforded him the opportunity to travel and learn more esoteric concepts. While traveling, his depth of knowledge grew to the point that the clan expected him to become their primary philosopher of the College.
Cedric's greatest accomplishment can also be seen as his greatest failure. The change to lichdom is one that can only be accomplished by a tiny fraction of the world's wizards, with only a handful accomplishing it in a given age. It not only requires the same amount of skill, or more, than it does to master the wish spell, it requires an iron will to do what must be done. Becoming a lich demonstrated that Cedric has a will that surpasses that of almost every wizard, and a control and understanding of magic at the level of the beholder mages.
Recently, Credence has rejoined the Clan, and has begun to redeem himself to the family through his original talent of magic item creation. Based on an off-handed comment from Lord Credence, he designed the first prototype of Credence's Clean Commode. Lord Credence then worked with him in refining the idea, and they eventually created the final design and launched Credence's Cunning Collection.
Failures & Embarrassments
Cedric had two major failures in his life, the first leading directly to the second.
The first was his failure to protect the temple of Fierte. The sacking of the temple and the deaths of his friends and fiance broke him - he couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible for the attack, since he had been the one who tried to initiate trade with the Vicien Order. The Order decided to take what they wanted rather than trade for it, razing the temple and stealing the stockpile of Fierte's Steel.
A desire for vengeance for his lost friends drove him to his greatest failure, being seduced by the lure of power into becoming a lich. While he focused his wrath on and drew his sacrifices from the ranks of the Vicien Order, he knew that the heinous acts were not justifiable, but he did not care. Power was all that mattered, no matter what it did to his soul.
Intellectual Characteristics
One of the more intelligent members of an incredibly intelligent and educated family, Cedric has always had a hunger for knowledge and creation. Though he no longer sees gathered knowledge as the best route to improving oneself, he still tries to read and learn as much as he can. A gift of a book he has not seen before is the surest way to curry his favor.
Cedric is very good at putting together how magic items work, mentally deconstructing them to see how they work and how they can be improved. His largest intellectual blind spot is his lack of the spark of inspiration to create entirely new concepts. He relies of Lord Credence to supply the ideas for what can impact the world, while he does most of the work to turn those ideas into reality.
Morality & Philosophy
Cedric's life philosophy has undergone great shifts throughout his life. As a young man, he believed in the power of knowledge and sought it for its own sake. At that time, he felt that knowledge was the only pure good in the world, and that by acquiring as much of it as he could, he would become closer to the ideal person. This philosophy carried him through his years of wandering, but the act of collecting knowledge led him to a breakthrough that changed the way he saw the world.
The more knowledge he gathered, the more he saw contradictions between sources. He came to realize that some of the things he thought of as fact were truly no more than guesses or opinions of the authors. He stopped relying on acquired knowledge and began to believe that one could only truly know what one discovered for themselves. This led him to his renewed focus on magical research and development, and eventually to his great change.
More recently, Cedric has decided on family being what truly matters. Knowledge becomes outdated, new things are created, and the world changes around you, but a family can be eternal. He believes that protecting the family as a whole and helping to usher them into the future is the ultimate purpose of power.
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