Beneath his heavy cloaking and wrappings, Asarth is hideous. A withered skeletal being, his eye sockets burn with violet flames. To prevent people from seeing him, however, Asarth wraps himself in mouldering cloaks and bandages, and tops it off all with a wide-brimmed traveller’s hat. Because the flesh on his hands and fingers is flaking off, he often fiddles with his leather gloves, pulling them up and down (Never revealing himself, of course) and he often reaches beneath his wrappings to scratch his neck and face when the necrotising tissue bothers him. Though less arrogant than most liches, Asarth has the haughtiness of an elf, and bears an aura of self-righteous superiority to go along with the muffled stench of his rot.
Even to those who know his true nature, Asarth Awrun is a mystery. He travels by whim, it seems, and wherever he goes, slow disease and death follow. Greybeards and scholars note that the mysterious Awrun seems to have particular interest in places where stories tell of long lost coastlines, islands, mountains and other disappeared locations. Perhaps this could be a clue to his identity. Or perhaps its not. Only Asarth truly knows.
An elder lich recently returned from a journey across the worlds who seeks an artifact of ancient times.