Draven Stagnum
Location: Northrend
"It's cold!" The voice was an affront to Draven's ear, unpleasantly shrill and raspy at the same time. Zepar, the imp, was not typically a quiet thing. Though Draven mostly hated him, he also cherished the company. If it weren't for Zepar, Draven would have no one to speak with at all. Once he turned to the dark arts, the world turned its back on him in kind. Now he lived mostly in seclusion as a hermit, selling potions and narcotics in order to afford the necessities to get by and to fund his studies.
"Amaaazing observation," Draven finally said. "I'm sooo glad you mentioned it." Each word was drawn out a little too long, emphasizing the high dose of sarcasm in his voice. He pulled a hood up from his form fitting coat and wrapped it around his head, trying to keep the chilled wind off of his face as best he could. You could hardly see him in his black and silver accented attire through the heavy snowfall. As for Zepar, you couldn't see him at all, regardless. The imp lived in a stealth shroud almost exclusively, living between phases of reality, hardly ever allowing himself to be seen by anyone other than Draven. The warlock often looked like an insane person, seemingly talking to himself quite often. The truth is, he wasn't talking to himself. However, the insanity part was up for debate.
"How long are we going to be here? Where is this thing? I don't see it! I wanna go home! It's cold!"
"Oh my Lords, you have got to shut your mouth before I just up and murder you!" The imp pounced up upon a nearby rock and perched, crossing its arms around itself in a huff, like a stubborn child that wasn't getting their way. Draven rolled his eyes and moved passed him. They had traveled quite far to get here and it took a great deal longer just to gather the resources to make the trek.
Back at the shores was a modest boat allegedly anchored with a small crew aboard that Draven had hired to ferry them over. They were reluctant to take the deal despite the fact that Draven was offering a very generous amount of compensation. He wasn't unaccustomed to the uneasiness of the people he dealt with. He was a warlock. Warlocks were generally considered scum, no matter what corner of the world you were on. It was a way of life he grew to accept. However, he also had grown to know that there is a little bit of sin in everyone and those sins can be exploited. All it took to assuage their apprehension was to offer up some shimmerweed, a tantalizing narcotic that brought about a sense of euphoria once imbibed.
A while back, Draven heard rumors of a town in Grizzly Hills whose inhabitants were falling victim to the Worgen curse. Many mystical adventurers sought to aid in the predicament while others chose to find the power causing the transformations, rumored to be a ritual of sorts, so that they could harness it for themselves. Draven found himself in the latter category. If he could master the ritual or at least find the tome in which it was written, he could command power that would change his body to be as strong as that of the great wolves. A handy thing in dire situations.
Grizzly Hills was quite a ways off from where they docked, though, and the captain and crew of the boat had no intention of following them into the chilly continent. Draven had asked them to at least wait for his return, but the way in which they agreed made him suspicious. Chances are, they would leave him as soon as he disappeared from sight.
"Hey, Dray! Do you-"
"I swear to the Fel, if you do not stop your persistent whining, I will set you ablaze right here and now and warm myself up with your flaming remains, you little-"
"Hey! That's not nice! I was going to say do you feel that?" Draven looked at the imp, still huddled on the rock, and furrowed his brow as if trying to understand. He closed his eyes and just reached out with his will, trying to tap any arcane influences. Then he did feel it, afterall. And, my word, was it strong. A smile crept over Draven's face, his eyes still shut, mentally caressing the power in the air.
"Oh, wow... What is it," he asked the imp, barely able to contain a joyous huff of laughter. "It's beautiful."
"Beats me, but I don't like it... We should leave. IT'S COLD!" Draven's eyelids parted and the warlock's pupils beamed like lasers into the infernal creature across the way.
"Look, Zepar. I wasn't leaving before, and I'm definitely not leaving now." The imp suddenly looked offended, or was it fear in his eyes? It didn't matter. Zepar tried to open his mouth to speak, but Draven would have no more of it. "There's power here, Zepar! We've got to find it!" The imp began to raise a hand as if to block an incoming strike, and started stuttering out a response. "No! No more complaining, no more whining! I'm doing this with or without you, but if you insist of accompanying me, you will do so silently!"
"Dray!" The imp finally managed to blurt it out, it's eyes as wide as they could possibly be as the demon looked at Draven. No... past Draven. "Behind you!" The warlock scoffed before turning and, immediately his face was the mirror image of Zepar's. With a healthy dose of shock, fear and excitement, Draven found himself beheld to a spiraling vortex of immense power. As the wind swirled and the snowflakes fell, Draven stood there, mouth agape, witnessing the vortex like a babe would look upon a candy store. He took a solid step forward, much to the imp's dismay.
"What the Fel are you doing?" Zepar called out. Draven just began to laugh, the volume of his chortling growing exponentially louder with each advancing step. "Dray, this is a bad idea. You don't know what's on the other side of that thing..." The slow and steady walk turned into a brisk jog as Draven began hurrying toward it. He outstretched his arms wide as if preparing to embrace the thing with a great big bear hug, all the while cackling out with a disturbing sense of glee.
Zepar slapped the palm of his hand against his face and dragged it down. He shook his head violently as he whispered to himself. "Nope. Nope nope nope. That guy's an idiot. Should have left him a long time ago. Nope. Capital 'N', Nope." He looked back up to see Draven nearly there, nearly at the breach and with one last squeal of glee, the warlock just hurled himself into the quantum rip. Zepar starred on, flabbergasted that the warlock actually did it. Just hurled himself into unknown peril, all the while giggling like a little girl. Zepar let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Motherfu- Alright, dammit. Hold on, Dray, you miserable idiot! I'm coming!" With that, the imp leapt off the rock and began bounding toward certain danger. With one final pounce, Zepar let out a maniacal "WEEEEEeeeeeee" as he let the vortex swallow him whole.
