Journals of Alhazred

Fiction based on the World of Warcraft game setting

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

On the Path of Darkness

Journal Entry

Four years after that fateful meeting, I found myself at the gates of Stormwind. As a simple country boy, the sights and sounds of activity on such a grand scale nearly overwhelmed my senses. One thing I especially remember as a moment of clarity was, that even being in the capital of humanity, the smell was much the same as that I had known in my simple town. Humanity may have made great strides in the name of progress, but sanitation and cleanliness were not inherent in our natures apparently. To this day, I am still surprised that I survived my first day in that metropolis. I imagine I was a tempting target for every cutpurse and ruffian that crossed my path.

Regardless, the mage quarter was easy enough to find with the help of a rather bored gate guard. At a faintly sinister tavern, I made inquires if anyone knew of a warlock named Graza. By a stretch of luck I am still dubious about, I learned that he was indeed in the city, having just come back from the lands of Kalimdor and was expected to stop by shortly.

I was into my third tankard of ale, of a quality that would have had my father trying to bury his axe in the head of the supplier, when Graza made his entrance. He had not changed over much aside from a bit more gray around his temples. He went to the bar and after a brief word to the bar man, turned in my direction. After he had made his way to my table and taken a seat, I asked if he remember me. I was surprised that he indeed remembered the simple innkeepers son he had spoken with. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I asked if his offer was still available. At this point he leaned back, staring at me with that unsettling gaze he had.

After what seemed a small eternity, he nodded and instructed me to follow him. We made our way to his home, and in his workshop signed my apprenticeship in blood. Blood being an essence of power and binding in magical contracts.

What followed for the next 5 years was typical for any student bent upon an education in the mystical arts. Fetching supplies from the local apothecary and taking copious notes filled my days, and my nights were given over to lessons in the names and essences of both the infernal and divine. I learned of the branches of magic that practioners could follow, as well as the necessity of perfect preparation when employing the warlock’s art.

Graza proved to be a knowledgeable teacher with a gift for instruction. Even with my own surprising aptitude for sorcery, I believe without his aid I would have taken much longer to finally end my apprenticeship. My learning and dedication were tested the night I summoned my first imp under his strict guidance. Imps are foul creatures with a sharp and sarcastic wit. Smelling of brimstone and always with an eye toward destruction, imps are the least of the familiars that warlocks can summon to their side, and mine was a superb specimen of it’s rather noxious breed. After the little beast had been returned to it’s nether home, Graza explained that a warlock would find a particular familiar as their preferred servant and possibly develop a kinship with it. He stressed that it was important at all times to remember that these familiar were infernal spirits, and that while they could afford a warlock certain powers and knowledge, that in the end they were but tools and would gladly turn on the careless or abandon them in a moment of weakness.

At this point Graza explained that before I could be allowed to research the name of a permanent familiar of my own, I would have to travel to a small monastery outside the gates of Stormwind and prove the basics of my knowledge for a colleague of his. If I was able to satisfy her as to the depth of my skill and knowledge she would provide me access to a tome which I could use to bind an imp to my side. With foolish thoughts of adventure and glory running through my head, I packed what meager belonging I had acquired into a rucksack and ventured forth to seize my destiny.

By the hand of Abdul Alhazred
Vizir of the Conclave of Warlock


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