[ WP ] You are an ancient evil , sealed away millennia ago by a legendary hero . You have escaped your imprisonment and attained a physical form . The first course of business ? Learning how to walk .

For four thousand years Hector the Arch Lich had been trapped inside the Tomb of the Damned. All the greatest mages and clerics of the land had cast their spells upon the Tomb to ensure that Hector would never escape. 
 
 They could not have counted upon the earthquake that shattered the realm, that unmoored the Tomb from it's foundations and cracked the seal upon it. Hector's essences bled into the world until finally he was free. Now at long last his vengeance was at hand. 
 
 He floated up the endless stairwells and drifted through the vast catacombs of the underground fortress he'd been trapped in. He needed a body, a vessel to control to be able to do any real damage in this world. The noise above him made it clear he was about to find one. 
 
 They were scavengers, looking for treasure off the backs of the dead, likely the earthquake had opened a hole into this dungeon and got the men's hopes up with dreams of lost treasures hidden in the depths. They were about to be in for a nightmare. 
 
 Hector descended upon one of them, the man's eyes turning jet black as the essence of the Arch Lich entered him. 
 
 `` Demon!'' screamed one of the other two men, he ran at his possessed friend and stabbed him repeatedly in the belly. Hector responded with a horrible scream that set the man on fire from head to toe. His other man turned and ran in terror. Hector reveled in his power for a few moments before he realized the body he'd taken over had been gutted from the stab wounds and was unable to sustain itself. Hector crashed to the ground and laid there motionless. 
 
 Hector thought this would be no big deal, he'd been undead for hundreds of years, but the body was n't responding, was n't listening to his commands. It was only with great agony that he was able to bend one of the knees and then the other and then begin the horrible process of turning over onto his side. 
 
 It was in this moment that he remembered his suit of armor. The armor he'd spent a hundred years tailoring to meet his needs in death. The suit handled all the movement issues, gave him his senses, even helped amplify his voice to make his spells work. It was destroyed in his great defeat, it's like never to be seen again. He now understood that he needed a living body to control to be able to handle his revenge, he'd royally screwed up allowing this one to die while he was tethered to it. He had no idea how long it would take for him to free himself from this prison of decaying flesh. 
 
 Over the course of several hours he finally got to his feet. With supreme focus he slowly shambled his way forward. He had to get out of this dungeon, if he could but touch a living being he could transfer his conscientiousness to them and truly begin his reign of terror. He was so close, he just had to find a way. 
 
 He tried a levitation spell but his sense of direction and space was all messed up, the dead eyes he was looking through did n't work right he ended up smashing into walls and dislocating a shoulder, now he had a useless arm on top of everything else to deal with, back to the slow and horrible shambling. 
 
 A day passed as he slowly dragged himself to the foot of a giant stairwell, the steps before him were impossible for him to count. Each one more painful then the one before it, but his terrible will pushed him to continue, to find a way up the steps. 
 
 As he neared the end he could feel the sun, the accursed sun he'd hated for all of his unlife beating down upon him and he felt a joy he'd had n't perhaps ever. Finally he was free. 
 
 Then the aftershock hit and sent him toppling down all those steps, shattering every limb of his undead body, leaving him a broken ruined heap at the base of the stairs. 
 
 `` Well that's a bit of a setback.'' Hector thought.
