Title: Viceroyal Psychopomp, or simply Viceroy

Name: Vrishchikam

Age: Somewhere above One hundred. He stopped counting shortly there after.

Race: Construct

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Backstory:

Viceroy Vrishchikam Started his life as any normal human child would. He lived on a small farm on the outskirts of a no name town. He planted crops, helped bring them back in for the winter, and whatever other chores his parents threw his way. On his 7th birthday, a day he still remembers vividly, he was given his first book as a present. It was an inconsequential book full of folk tales, but to him it was gold. He couldn't put it down. He read it over and over again until they were memorized. Sadly, the book has been destroyed from to much wear and tear, but his parents had found out something that filled him with passion. Whenever they could afford it, for books were expensive and they were a rather poor family, they bought him another book.

Once he was old enough Vrishchikam left the house to set out on his own. He wanted to see the places he had read about. See the magic he had only seen in his mind. He hoped against all hope he could find a school that would be willing to take him in and teach him the arcane arts. Years of traveling and living on whatever he could find as he moved from place to place passed until he finally stumbled into a tavern and met an old man who was entertaining himself by making mice dance across the table. He spent years and years training under this man, learning everything he had to know and traveling after he left him to find the school this man mentioned.

There, at the Ancient Terrenus Academy he fully delved into the realms of Magic. He found that he preferred to create things, both sentient and not. He spent years studying the Arts of Necromancy that he could better understand the make up of the human body and the flow of life and death in the arcane form. He lived in the library, his mind absorbing everything he read as though it were a sponge. It was because of this study that he received the title Psychopomp. He was formally trained by the Schools head Necromancer in the art of escorting the recently deceased' souls to the Wyld, and it was a thing of beauty.

Age was becoming an issue rapidly for him. His mind worked but his body was slowly wearing away, and there was nothing that his knowledge in the arcane could do about it unless he were willing to sacrifice the lives of others to prolong his own, which he wasn't. He had an idea, an idea he dare not mention to his teachers, or his students. He took up the study of Golemancy. After years of practice, and the gathering of materials he was ready, and nervous, as nervous as he had ever been.

Deep in the basements of the schools he prepared his ritual. Runes littered the ground drawn with the most expensive and arcane conductive materials he could find. There was a large tub in the center of it all, and on the ground next to it was an intricately created human like form made of various stones and metals. Calming himself and steeling his nerves as his years of training had taught him to do he started his ritual, chanting the required arcane words over and over until he felt the power of his spell reach his climax. He made his way, naked, into the tub coming to the end of the somatic component of his spell. He yelled the final word and plunged his dagger into his heart, collapsing and slowly fading from his body. His training in using the arcane to escort souls to the Wyrm, in combination with his ritual allowed him to, once his body had died, guide his soul into the form on the ground.

It was like waking up from a nightmare. He was alive... Sort of. Everything felt different. He had no sense of smell. He didn't need to breathe. He tested his voice and it sounded hazy. Practice makes perfect, he had adjustments to make, but it had worked. he had placed his soul inside of an object, and used the object to power this Golem! He was eternal!!!!!

Needless to say, the scholars of the school didn't quiet approve of his choices and he left quietly, destroying all the evidence of his work as he left. He wandered Terrenus for a time, enhancing himself as he saw fit, healing those he cam across who needed it, and generally living a philanthropic life. Eventually he decided he would head to Biazo and see what he could learn about this tree sap that worked so well for healing.

His timing could not have been more perfect, and more horrible. Before he could even see Biazo he heard a tremendous explosion. Not something unreasonable for this area, as the mining had been picking up in its progress. As he got closer to the town he felt a strange pressure, a dread building up inside of himself. Once there he found out why. The explosion he heard had destroyed almost all of Biazo. It was a mess, bodies and decay everywhere. That wasn't the worst of it. He could sense the souls trapped in the area, some left to wander the area as ghosts, others simply floating trapped with no priests or Psychopomps to see their souls off.

The grief was almost overwhelming for him but he suddenly knew what he had to do. If he was a Golem, living a productive life, why not them? What better way to quickly revitalize the town and...sort of, save the lives of all of these poor folks. It took days and days to prepare the ritual, circling the entire town to draw the runes out properly, large enough to encompass the entire city. As for materials... He would have to do with the rubble of the city and change his spell a little bit.

He started his ritual just the same as before, though there was no life left to sacrifice. He used their untimely deaths to fuel the spell, chanting for weeks on end to channel the power he would need to send the sold of nearly a million people into the stones of this place. Finally it was ready. The spell unleashed itself and he collapsed to the ground, shaking as he had greatly drained himself. He got to watch his magic work, and it was beautiful. It did just as he had wanted. Stone wood and metal began to rise off of the ground and form itself into the likeness of humans, dwarves, and elves, the spell causing them to take on sizes, shapes, and looks similar to that of the souls who would be inhabiting them.

It happened in a rush, all of the souls snapped into the bodies and everyone started talking at once. They didn't know what happened exactly, but they knew they were alive, and this is how Psychopomp Vrishchikam became ViceRoyale Psychopomp Vrishchikam, Lord of Biazo.