Barbarian Warlock の小説・ストーリー

I was shy and I only spoke when I had no choice, I guess my bravery was beaten out of me a long time ago. Balthazar was brutal if you pissed him off, he never thought twice about making someone pay, and betrayal? You would beg for death when he was done with you, no one betrayed him, not even other warlocks. They knew he was powerful, knew he could beat them with a flick of his wrist.

The warlock smirked as the Master-of-arms scowled, “How much is that going to cost?” “On the wand. Nice doing business with you... I suggest you chain him before he wakes and tries to swim back to the continent. He marked that female; he’s going to want to go back for her, she was beautiful.” The warlock warned. “A dragon-fire forged chain would be best.” “She wasn’t one of us,” the master-of-arms snarled. “She will be. You should retire and move far away. When he gets loose, his beast is going to eat you like he did those males.” The warlock waved his staff, and a red fire ring appeared before shooting into the sky

Perfect for gathering wolves who had no home left to lose. The rogues. I tightened the leather strap around my wrist and watched as one by one, they emerged from the shadows. Feral eyes. Snarling mouths. Some limping from old battles, others practically dripping with rage. Broken things. But even broken things have their uses—if you know how to hold the leash. And I did. The largest of them stepped forward first—Baron. Half his face was scarred beyond recognition, and his left eye glowed white with blindness. But the other eye—sharp. Calculating.

"I want to know more about Darren. I always get the feeling that he's hiding something from me..." "Maybe he's hiding it from you for a reason." Lucian interrupted me and said. "Maybe that's his last defense. Look, Louisa, Darren is from another species. He's a warlock and he wasn't supposed to exist in our world. His ancestors destroyed us and that's why they have been severely punished and enslaved by us ever since. I'm telling you this is because you can't treat him as one of us. I know you're fair-minded and can't see the reason behind this, but I'm going to break it down for you. Warlocks may look, walk and talk like us, but they certainly don't think like us. So when you try to use you

I still have to come up with a short version for my unique power. Warwolf or werelock?

Ballar, the most dangerous druid to walk the earth and one who had tried to wage total war on Tír na nÓg and destroyed most of Greenland in the process. “Your apprentice? You were the one who trained that madman? If you are his master then why didn’t you destroy him? Or better yet, simply refuse to train him in the first place?” I demanded hotly. “Because of him and his beasts, my parents are dead, whole continents are barren from his fight and now there are deadly packs of werewolves worshipping him with blood sacrifices!”

“Why do you always think that when the Council wants a Magickal brought to them, he’s going to get punished?” “He isn’t? It must be something about his blood, then. He’s an unregistered Magickal?” “Well, that’s the clincher, really. That’s why we specifically need you for this assignment. He’s a warlock and he has no idea, and he lives a Mundane as much as we know of, who manages to make himself a billionaire therefore he can afford to live outside of the grid.” I snort. “You’re kidding me. That’s like a made-up story.”

“Why didn’t anyone know until later? Since you two are siblings, wouldn’t it be normal for you to know he was friends with a potential stone keeper?” “Generally, yes, but not exactly. Dragons are privy to who a potential is, which means that he wouldn’t have known. When Arric turned eighteen, he had been drafted to join the war against other Dragons. He had been gone for a few years and by the time he returned Azura had been chosen. That was when I found out.”

“When I was recruited to the Warriors, I had to be sponsored by a permanent member of the club to prospect. It was the same for Weasel, Rebel, and Shadow. Are we going to stick to that or how are we going to recruit new prospects since we currently don’t have any?” “I want to keep things the same, as much as possible. I like the idea of a member bringing in a new prospect, sponsoring and mentoring him. I don’t want the Warriors to be open to just anybody. We have a good dynamic, a family, and being a Warrior isn’t for just anybody.” The guys smiled and nodded their heads. “Thanks, Wrath, I think we need some fresh blood to man the bar and wash the dishes.” Weasel laughed. “Fuck yeah, we do.

Behind them, a chaotic assortment of rough-looking fighters—Rogues, mercenaries, and exiles—fanned out, weapons drawn. Ethan didn't flinch. He watched the three Warlords approach. On the left was Silas, a Warlock exiled from the High Coven twenty years ago. He was thin, pale, and wore a suit of modern tech interwoven with glowing runic circuitry. He didn't carry a staff; he carried a tablet that hummed with dark energy. Silas was the architect of the "Techno-Magic" movement, a man who believed biology was a flaw to be corrected.