Zevix Teller

These are just some very short stories I wrote about my warlocks past. I arranged them chronologically. They end with out much closure intentionally, it was part of the mystery I loved playing with for him. I hope you enjoy them!

Zevix's Childhood
Zevix winced as the switch came down on his back again. "Try again!" came his teacher's shout and another strike from the switch.

Zevix stifled a whimper of pain and set again to concentrating on the spell as his teacher struck him again with the switch. His concentration faltered for a moment. Shadows began to solidify between his hands in an orb. Zevix grinned as the sphere grew to the size of a human head. His master grunted slightly, then brought the switch down on Zevix again.

Zevix cried out from the sudden sharp pain and the spell lost it's form. Zevix's teacher sneered down at the young boy. "If you can't keep a spell going when being smacked with this, then how can you be expected to keep a spell going when being cut with a sword, whelp? You need to be able to cast spells in combat situations! Now, again!"

For hours it continued. As the sun was finally setting, Zevix managed to hold a spell long enough to cast it at the training target. He missed by a foot. His shoulders in defeat. His teacher stepped forward and Zevix winced expecting the switch to come down. It didn't He looked up at his teacher in surprise.

"You have made sufficient progress today. We will continue tomorrow. Now, go make my meal and get your scrawny ass to bed."

Zevix beamed and rushed off to make his teacher's supper. He didn't even care that tonight he wasn't eating, he was just glad his painful training was over for the day.

The Fall
Zevix refocused his will. The glowing summoning circle flickered for a moment, but then strengthened. The pressure on the edges increased as the demon inside tried to break free Zevix smirked, and applied more power to his spell. Finally, the pressure eased. Zevix let out a victorious cry, and sealed the enslavement spell on his new minion.

Or so he thought. Terror swept over Zevix as he felt his spell slipping away, the circle vanished, and he fell to his knees as pain washed over him. The small imp hopped forward, a malicious grin on it's distorted face. Zevix reached for his magic to hurl a bolt of shadow energy at the demon, but he felt something blocking his power. Another wave of pain and Zevix found himself lying on the ground.

"Now, now, pet" the imp sneered "We can't have you breaking free, can we?" the imp cackled and pranced about Zevix's fallen form.

Without warning, a screaming bolt of flame consumed the imp. Zevix felt more searing pain wash over him. Before he passed out, he saw his savior, a young elf in mage's robes.

Salvation and Damnation
The smell of cooking food woke Zevix. For the past several years he had woken the same way. But something was different today. Something felt off. He walked into the main room of the small apartment. Standing there, smiling at him, was a tall, lanky high elf, holding a cooking pan with food over a flame. The elf smiled as he watched Zevix enter, waving his hand at the table, motioning for him to sit. "Cooking again? I thought you'd have mastered conjuration by now, Malanior." Zevix grinned as the mage set a plate heaping with eggs and ham. "Ah, don't you remember the last time I tried that? I think there are still feathers in your hair, human!" the elf chuckled, sitting down with his own plate. The two ate the rest of their breakfast in silence. When they finished, Malanior took the plates and left them in a washing basin near the wood stove. He turned to Zevix, his face serious now. "You still haven't told me why you were fighting that demon all those years ago." said his savior. "Yes, I did." Zevix felt worry, but hid it. Worry that his savior would turn him out on the street, or worse, report him to the Kirin Tor Council of Archmagi. "We should get going, we'll miss class." "We aren't going to class today. You are going to tell me what really happened." The elf insisted, positioning himself between Zevix and the door. Zevix slumped into his seat, and glanced up at the the elf mage, remembering the day that he had been saved from a failed summoning spell. When he had awoken, he had told the elf that he had been attacked by a rogue imp, and that he had been overpowered and caught by surprise. Later that night he vowed to himself that he would never practice the fel arts again, and instead strive to be a great mage. "You really want to know?" Zevix finally asked, looking up at the elf. "Tell me everything" Malanior said, determination on his face. "Fine." Zevix said "I was born in a small village. My family was poor, but we managed to get by. I showed some talent for magic at a young age. When I was six years old, a man came to our village. He offered my family a small fortune for me, saying he would train me and take care of me. My parents quickly agreed, and sent me away. Over the next ten years he trained me in the fel arts, teaching me to focus my will, to conjure powerful shadow magics and fel flames. His training was not kind. He would beat me for any mistake, and even would beat me while I was trying to cast a spell, to teach me to focus. Eventually, after those ten years, he told me to go out and train on my own, and to only return to his tower after I had successfully summoned a demon and enslaved it to my will." Zevix sat up straight, resolve now on his face. "And that is when you found me. I was trying to bind that imp to my will and I failed. It tricked me." Zevix looked out the window at the sun. "We should get going, we're already late." "I already told you, we aren't going to class." The elf said, shaking his head. "Teach me." "What?" "Teach me. You know plenty, right? Teach me." "No. I vowed already to never practice the fel arts again. And you should not touch them either. They are poison of the mind." "Break your vow. Teach me!" "No!" "Teach me, human! I saved your life! I took you in! Show a little gratitude!" Zevix paused, looking down. He had vowed to never practice the art. He had used almost every once of self control he had to avoid falling back into that darkness. And now, the man that had saved and inspired him was asking him to throw it all away. To return to that dark past, to once again use the fel energies that had coursed from his fingers. Zevix looked down, defeated. "You know what this entails? You know how dangerous and addicting fel magic is? You know that it is forbidden, and to practice it carries dire consequences for anyone caught?" "Yes, of course I do! Teach me, or I'll hand you into the Kirin Tor!" Zevix slumped into his seat in defeat. He had no choice. He stood, his hand gripping his knife tightly.

The Ritual
Zevix stood on the edge of the cliff, a warm sea breeze sweeping over him, his loose robes billowing around him. He inhaled deeply, drawing that knife from ten years ago. He exhaled slowly, shrugging off his heavy, black, robes. He enjoyed the feel of the warm air on his skin. He stared out, watching the sun set, the light playing on the water. It was almost time, he slowly turned, picking up his robes, walking to the tower.

Zevix stood in his towers basement above an inlaid circle in the floor. He finished the chant of his summoning spell. Smoke from the candles and incense coalesced into a solid form. The form grew, drawing power from the energies of the circle. Finally, it was complete. In the circle stood a towering humanoid demon, clad in heavy plate armor, hefting a massive battle axe over its shoulder with one mighty hand. The Fel guard sneered at Zevix and pounded it's free fist against the invisible barrier of the circle. Zevix focused, binding the demon to his will. It went quickly; he had gotten used to it now, and found it easy. And as quickly as it had begun, it was done. The Fel guard bowed its head, now under Zevix's command.

Chase
The elf pressed himself flat against the remains of a fallen wall. He had cuts and scrapes all over his arms, legs, chest. Everywhere. His eyes were wide with panic.

''The Dark One is coming. He is coming and he is going to get me and he is going to devour my soul!''

A snapping from nearby caused Myrlith to jump up. His head whipped around to the source. The brush rustled. Myrlith stumbled back, falling down, kicking his feet in his desperate attempt to escape.

No, no, no!

"NO!" screamed the elf.

A small rabbit leaped out of the bushes. Myrlith sighed in relief, slumping back against the wall. He smiled, despite his terror, at the rabbit, of all things causing him fear. He chuckled.

Suddenly, a sphere of pure darkness rocketed out of the trees, consuming the rabbit entirely. Myrlith screamed in terror and ran away. Branches whipped his face, and brambles tore at his legs. He ran and ran and ran. Long after he knew he had escaped his pursuer, he kept running, until the moon was high.

The darkness was no obstacle for the green orbs that floated silently through the trees. They were following the elf and had been for some days now. They were ever-vigilant Eyes of the warlock hunting the elf.

The screaming of the searing flames reached his ears seconds before the spell struck him. The burning flames tore at his body and through straight to his soul. The last thing the elf saw before the darkness consumed him was a pair of black riding boots approaching. Th last thing he heard was the dark and foul voice of the warlock that had hunted and destroyed him.

"And you elves are masters of the woods? No wonder the Legion are able to strike such fear into your pathetic hearts."