Laphos

The woods is already a curious place, filled with flora and fauna that appear to defy explanation. Light scholars flock to it in droves, searching for something once beyond their understanding, eager to make their mark on intellectual history.

All of them, though, no matter the academic glory on the line, know to steer clear of the glowing blue mushrooms.

It began as urban legend, keeping away from that shadowy clearing, but as more dragons began to disappear, legend became reality. If you value the state of your research, or your own life, it is best to heed the thorns and fungi, and to turn the other way. Do not ask why. Do not try to understand. It will never be worth it.

Of course, Laphos wishes more unwitting intruders would stumble upon her lair. It livens things up, watching them squirm among the vines while she decides what to do with them. It brings life to the clearing that she hasn't personally felt for hundreds of years, not since her own heart beat with its natural pulse, since blood flowed through her veins instead of dark magic. And then when she siphons their life force to give her own a little boost, the peace and quiet that follows is quite appealing.

It's easy to forget things in the silence, though. How many years have gone by since she first invited fungi to use her as a host, in exchange for life after death? Is this even her own corpse any longer, or has she perhaps adopted the form of an unwary traveler, lifting her consciousness from her own rotten body to something fresher? And when did she last prune, water, restructure the vines holding her current body together?

There's a great many things to remember when navigating Sornieth as a beast of great and powerful magic, and even more to remember when that magic is in a constant state of fragrant decay. And while the mushrooms dotting Laphos's hide offer her an eternity to go about her business of establishing dominance over the greater world, they do not offer her a sharper memory. As it turns out, splitting one's conscience across a fleet of fungi is exactly that: splitting. There is no greater capacity for memory than what she possessed in her natural lifetime, and if she had the chance to do it over again, she reckons she would spend more time ensuring her immortal lichhood came with the appropriate mental elasticity.

But first. She should probably visit the nearest river and give her body a proper drink. Her clearing is drier than a bone, so she can't have done it recently. And before she does that, it would be best to prune the vines trailing from her legs and wings, lest she trip or tangle in flight. And before that...

Bio by Tues.