>>6369
>>6370
>>6372
>>6374
Technically speaking, your real repertoire is your crafting capability: a lich left alone is always a prepared lich, which is a horrifying thing to combat.
You spend some time testing your spells, bringing in boar carcass.
With an effort, you begin with Hyperborea.
The blast of cold is… Tiny, the first time, but so chilling that the effect is actually wider than the initial zone, the sudden compression from the cold shattering a baseball-sized hole in the boar's side. On the second cast, it fills about half the room, cold enough to snap-freeze some of the earth, creating semirandom icy fields - as well as killing nearly everything in the radius.
Next, you lazily cast Eldrict bolt at a passing fly. It explodes. You raise an eyebrow, then cast it at the boar, who heals its wound, then grows four new legs from the side of its head, which shortly rot off to leave bony spikes in their place - which immediately explode off of its face, obliterating its head and nearly impaling a passing kobold.
Your maw clacks open at the wild effects of the spell, thoughtful. It seems that the variables of these spells are wide and difficult to nail down, but with effort, you discover the following:
>Hyperborea's maximal area is rather large, and it's maximum effect is significant. However, it seems randomly chosen for both these effects.
>Eldrict bolt's mutations are often short-lived, but it seems that with some effort, one could, possibly, use it for malice or improvement among enemies or allies. Probably. You hope.
Exploring the library leads to some interesting finds. It seems you are known most for the Seven Nation War, which surrounded your support of the rising Lesser Races - Trolls, Ogres, Lizardmen, Kobolds, Orcs, and Goblins against the surrounding seven nations. Some fury bubbles within your chest at that appellation, and it bursts from your maw like a finished kettle when you learn that the Trolls, Ogres, and Lizardmen were wholly wiped out due to your failure.
How dare they!
You nearly fling the volume across the room, but gather yourself. Gone days. Old days. If you forgot it, it probably wasn't important, right?
In this exploration, you fail to find new spell tomes, but that was a single shelf.
The Kobolds set themselves to digging down further, which will take some time, and the Shaman cures the spy, who finally finds herself leaving for the first time in too long.
And that's when you feel it. It's only in passing, like a tiny sun sailing overhead, but a massively holy prescence passes - likely on the train past the town.
You know what it is immediately: A Templar.
Templars are like Liches, only they are held together with blinding holiness, usually for a single mission. Their soul is held safe from their body in their holy relic. Something about this Templar is familiar, but you cannot place it.
The past is rising… Damnation.
>How do we react to this event?
>Are there any other plans to execute?