Liches further their own power at any cost, having no interest in the affairs of the living except where those affairs interfere with their own. Scheming and insane, they hunger for long-forgotten knowledge and the most terrible secrets. Because the shadow of death does not hang over them, they can conceive plans that take years, decades, or centuries to come to fruition.
No one takes up the path to lichdom on a whim. A wizard that becomes a lich does so to escape time and death, stealing its spirit from fate and the gods. Though it might once have desired undeath for a specific worldly purpose, a lich soon loses its connection to mortal concerns, its soul moving beyond the reach of beauty, feeling, or devotion. Instead, liches devote themselves to knowledge, the mastery of magic, and a paranoid pursuit of ever greater power.
A lich is a gaunt and skeletal humanoid with withered flesh stretched tight across its bones. Its eyes succumbed to decay long ago, but bright points of crimson light burn in its empty sockets. It is often garbed in the moldering remains of fine clothing and jewelry worn and dulled by the passage of time.