Plight Of The Warlock Novels & Stories

I’ve crawled enough for other people to last me a lifetime! I plant my hands on the ground, one of my fingers landing on some leaves growing out of the crack of the dirty floor. It’s difficult to use my warlock abilities right now because of how the drug is attacking my system. But I refuse to be a victim again. It’s a vow I made to myself all those years ago. I summon all my strength and feel the ground rumble. As do the shifters. Looks of alarm settle on their faces. “What the hell?”

I do not know how long I have been wrestling these dissenters, but I heard the sound of growls and paws rushing toward me. Ben and the others had come to back me up. Together, we eliminated all the warlocks that blocked our path. After a short time, a heap of dead warlocks came into my view, except for one. That lone survivor was arrogant at first as he brandished skills around. But after a while, he proved less powerful to land me a dangerous blow. In the end, he gave up. He kneeled before me, hands raised in supplication while he pleaded for his dear life.

“After forcing the chains for days, I managed to break mine. I burned my wrists… but I did it. I freed James. And just when I was helping him stand up… he appeared.” “Who? A human? Someone, you know?” “No. I didn’t know him, and he wasn’t a regular human. He was a warlock.” The word made my stomach twist. “I think I managed to free myself because the toxin wasn’t as strong anymore. The warlock came in thinking we’d still be restrained, but we weren’t. He was surprised to see us—and we killed him. We didn’t have the strength for anything else. We didn’t know if more were coming, so we ran. We couldn’t stay there. We wanted to fight, but in our condition, it would’ve been incredibly stupid,” B

This is what I need to get him to the point of unleashing his worst. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. The pain continues to increase. Just as I move, the warlock catches me out of the corner of his eye. I realize I have one chance to get this right or everyone will die. As I see the warlock’s eyes shift, I can see he tosses his arms in the air, not thinking of the consequences of killing me.

Elena knew she had to make a choice—whether to fight for Seraphine’s soul or to face the warlock and the destruction he would bring if left unchecked. The warlock stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "It’s too late for redemption, Elena. You’ve already lost. All of you." With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a blast of dark magic, sending shockwaves through the temple. The force of the attack was enough to send Elena stumbling back, her body aching from the impact.

My face remained emotionless because I didn’t want them to enjoy my discomfort. A man approached, less than twenty years old with a funny smile on his lips. He was more than two feet taller than me, and he was not thin but had tough muscles. Looking at his cat-eye pupils I knew he was a warlock and a very powerful one because the others around us stop talking and waited for him to speak.

"Are you ... a cleric ...?" asked nervously one of the three miners who had not lost consciousness of him. "Or maybe a priest?" another miner continued. "Or maybe ..." the last miner started "a magician?" Before Zark delivered an answer, he looked around him, since he was rectifying that his spell had healed the fallen miners. Watching the other miners slowly get up, he realized that they were the same or even more confused than the three miners who remained standing. In his mind, he wanted to respond by saying "I am Zark and I am a Warlock" but decided against it, as DM recalled that in the worlds of magic and fantasy Warlocks do not have a pleasant reputation, since they are generally view

“Sominatosa fortressa!” Darkness overwhelmed him, but the taste of her blood on his tongue was worth every lonely night of the long winter, and falling asleep with her in his arms was the perfect moment before death. “What have you done?” The master-of-arms shouted as he bent over the unconscious humans. “They only sleep, but we must hurry.” the warlock announced haughtily. “Would you rather they be able to identify your prince as the one who broke down their fences, killed their males and attacked this female?”

I was a half-demon, what was there to speak about? A warlock was a completely different thing. A warlock was born when a powerless human made a pact with the netherworld and got a whole lot of goodies out of that—all stuffed with complete dung, of course. I had never done anything like that; that was how I was created. “Did you kill poor people because of gold?” “No!” That was the ghosts’ job. “But were you an accessory to that?” “Of course!” A wave of whispers ran down the crowd, Uncle jerked in his throne, and the queen was flush with delight.

I asked him. “Yes, the warlock is alternating his time between starting drama amongst the women of the stronghold and scrying,” Leongrad pulled a face. “Next time we enter battle, I am just going to have half the camp-harlots on standby for him. It will be less trouble than letting him loose to his own devices.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” I stifled a laugh. “He might begin to insist upon it.” “Spoilt f-king warlock,” Leongrad said, wryly. “But those golems of his... He has demonstrated that he has value.”