Stirlar

"Encumbered by the hand of time, the simple soul.. It is irresolute and selfish, misshapen, lame. Unable to fare forward or retreat... This is why... I intend to live forever."

- Stirlar the Imperishable

At a Glance
Born a Deva wizard, Stirlar ascended to lichdom after assuming a mastery of dark arts that no mortal had ever achieved, before or since. Considered to be the most powerful wizard and lich to ever exist, as well as the most evil, it was at the height of his power that Stirlar sought to subjugate the entire world in what was known as the First Necrotic War. Although he was defeated, his actions would ring through history and be a catalyst for The Raven Queen's humbling of Deva civilization, the Second Necrotic War, and the cataclysm that reaped The Shattered Coast.

His name is commonly invoked by necromancers seeking to increase their power. He is so highly venerated by practicioners of the dark arts that some believe that following his defeat Stirlar ascended to Godhood and became Vecna God of Undeath. This, however, is mere conjecture.

History
Stirlar was born in the city of Dondea thousands of years before the destruction of the mighty Deva civilization in its war with Halruth and the forces of the Raven Queen. The son of Khemsingh, ruler of Dondea, it was as a young man that Stirlar joined the Mortuary Caste, a priesthood dedicated to the veneration of the dead. As Deva had been blessed with unnatural long lives that bordered on immortality, death was a mysterious and ominous force in the lives of his people, and throughout his life Stirlar remained fearful of its impending end. One day while visiting the rivers to the north, a group of Drow washed up on the shore after a battle with their Eladrin cousins at sea. One among them was a sorceress who revealed all her knowledge of magic to Stirlar. Nursing her and her companions back to health, Stirlar learned from her arcane magics that could manipulate the energy of mortals, unlike the priesthood magics that channeled the divine intercession of Gods like Oghma.

Stirlar, eager to stave off returning his morbid caste and duty, escaped into the sorceress' teachings and began to speculate that she held the recipe to true immortality. Rescued by Stirlar, the sorceress began to develop a budding romance with her saviour but knew that when she had exhausted all of her teachings, her love would return home without her. Knowing that no Drow would be accepted into Deva culture and full of despair, the sorceress attempted to conjure a vision that would convince Stirlar to stay. Feeding off his fear of death she struck him with a vision while he slept - a dream of his people, peacefully passing from the mortal plane in their sleep. Hoping that a dignified but inevitable end would convince Stirlar to stay, her actions had the opposite reaction -- Stirlar was even more convinced that he must return to Dondea, unite the dispossessed, the weak and aging, and give them the ability to prolong their already unnatural lives. "What is it like.... what is it like to be dead? I don't know... What is it like... to be truly alive? You must understand, I can fix this. I can save them, you, everyone!"

- Stirlar

The next morning, Stirlar prepared to leave, even as the sorceress begged him to stay. Rambling out her darkest teachings, Stirlar became more and more agitated to leave. He had heard all that he needed to, and as he turned to leave the sorceress' anxiety turned to fury. Instigating a magical duel, she lashed out at Stirlar who, while caught off guard, defended himself with the knowledge of the magics she had taught. In her weakened state Stirlar overpowered the sorceress, murdering her. Aghast that he had taken a life, Stirlar was shocked at how easy it had been. Life, he felt, was so horribly fragile.

The next day, Stirlar returned to Dondea and, using his knowledge as the basis for a new branch of magic which he called Necromancy, began to seduce the citizens of Dondea beneath the ignorant gaze of his father. Stirlar's new form of magic greatly extended his lifespan for generations to come, but it did not succeed in preserving his physical body. Beginning to decay, he created a phylactery in which to store his soul, extending his life even further. When the day finally came that Khemsingh, ruler of Dondea passed away, Stirlar was little more than loose skin hanging from a gaunt skeleton. As he ascended the throne, the neighbouring city of Andea watched with trepadation to its new leader.

As quickly as he had taken the throne, Stirlar began to subjugate the people of Dondea to his will, ruling with fear and the threat of death. The citizens of Andea watched, aghast as Stirlar's reign of terror increased, and it was after two centuries of being forced to witness his madness and blasphemous clinging to life that the union of Devas sought to remove Stirlar from the throne. Calling for help from across the mortal plane, the people of Andea, lead by Sitara the Blessed who was cousin to Stirlar, marched on Dondea. "The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them. I will show you the justice of the GRAVE!"

- Stirlar

Refusing to give up his throne, or his life, Stirlar used his now-mastered skill in Necromancy to raise a horde of skeletons from the Deva crypts to defend himself destroy his attackers. In the death-obsessed culture of Dondea and Andea, this was recognized as the greatest of obscenities. Hundreds panicked, terrified by thought of battling the departed, and although many fled at the sight of the skeletal army, Sitara's forces pressed on, beginning the first skirmish between the living and undead. Forced to flee, Stirlar escaped Dondea as Sitara's forces took the city, and he would disappear for five years before returning in the most horrifying way...

The First Necrotic War
Five years after his exile, it was so that Stirlar began the First Necrotic War - a conflict that would stretch the globe. Having escaped from Dondea to The Land Across the Sea, Stirlar had erected a castle with the aide of the Skaven, a race of incredibly short-lived rat-hengeyokai from the far south who used their magic to open portals in the Underdark to travel quickly across the globe. Seducing them with the idea of extending their life, Stirlar had succeeded in wrangling his pawns for his war on the living.

Overnight, the forces of the undead rose up from beneath the ground, guided by Skaven scouts through the Underdark into every corner of the globe. The meek defenses put up by towns to stop his invasions were not match for his the growing undead army. It was soon realized that no-one, not even seperated by oceans or seas, were safe. For decades the world fell into darkness under the fear of the shambling undead where only the great Kingdoms endured.

At the pinnacle of his power, Stirlar planned to unleash a wave of sorcery that would wash over the land for hundreds of miles, ripping in and out of the Underdark to every edge of the mortal plane, causing everyhting that was living to decay and die before raising the dead again in an unholy affront ot life. He may very well have succeeded, had his allies had not betrayed him.

Realizing the threat posed by the latest development, the Queen of the Skaven, Nehekhara, realized that if Stirlar would succeed, he would be all but unstoppable and the Skaven would be mindless servants to a tyrant. Rather thank risk the lives of her people for the promise of immortality, she had a blade made in secret that was so powerful that it would kill not just its victim, but also its wielder. Informing the free Kingdoms of the world, Nehekhara hoped that the armies of life, which would hastily march on Stirlar's fortress, would provide enough of a distraction that she could get close enough to Stirlar to enact her plan.

Caught unaware by the appearance of the free Kingdoms, Stirlar recklessly began collecting his Necrotic energies to unleash his ritual. Focused on his spell, it was then that Nehekhara leaped with her felblade, still sheathed, in hand. Surprised, but still formidable, Stirlar evaded the attempt on his life and retaliated by strip the flesh from Nehekhara's bones, taunting her for her affront on his life. With his ritual still ruminating, it was in his moment of arrogance that Stirlar plucked the tiny blade from Nehekhara's hands, unsheathed it and held it in his hand, mocking the betrayal of the small, short-lived creature. While in an unimaginable amount of pain, Nehekhara was still able to force out a smile -- Stirlar the Imperishable had been duped."You had hoped to assassinate me with so small a toy?"

- Stirlar "It is... Enough..."

- Nehekhara

With a blast of blue flame, lightning and fire erupted across Stirlar's form, burning his soul, mind, and body. Stirlar's screams could be heard from the hills of Tel'Quessir to the mountains of The Steelsands as the corrupt blade ravaged his form. Nehekhara's sacrifice had saved the world, but the ritual had already been started. With no caster to direct it, the necrotic spell imploded, ravaging the coast of the continent and forming The Shattered Coast. Without the dominating will of their master, the undead across the world fell inert. At a great cost the the land and lives of the world, The Necrotic War was over.