Praxzin gave his son a look which mixed contempt and frustration. It caused his lips to pull in to a frown and his brow to furrow at the young boy. With a sigh Praxzin turned his head and ran his fingers through that long strawberry blonde hair which fell across his face as he calmed himself. "Is that what they tell you? All your Farstrider friends saying that your parents are demon worshipers?" He continued to avoid eye contact wit the future Ranger, instead taking in the flora of the gardens. Lorthem was just a child after all, the Warlock mused, he couldn't possibly understand.

Lorthem instantly pulled back at the question, his arms folded across his chest as he retreated physically from the confrontation. He wasn't prepared for his father to retort in such a quiet manner. Lorthem had spent the better part of the afternoon talking this subject through with his sister. Elareyth assured him that he was prepared for this argument but now it became abundantly clear that she had deceived him "Uhm... well they're right! If there weren't any Warlocks in our world, there wouldn't be any demons either!" Is all the poor boy could come up with, but nevertheless Lorthem smirked with his answer. He had definitely inherited his father's arrogance.

Praxzin finally gave his son his full attention, making sure to look him directly in the eyes. Slowly approaching the wannabe hunter, Praxzin's entire aura seemingly darkening with each step. "Know this, Lorthem Vhal Zalar, the Burning Legion found it's way in to this world before Warlocks existed and they will do so again whether they are here or not. When that time comes, you should consider yourself -lucky- if you're able to stand next to someone knowledgeable about the enemy." With that Praxzin winked and ruffled his son's hair before ending the conversation. He turned on his heel and headed towards the library, exiting the courtyard.

Lorthem stood there in silence, his hands tightly balled in to fists while he tried to regather his composure. He hated that his parents still looked at him and treated him like a child. Even so, during Praxzin's speech Lorthem couldn't bring himself to meet that piercing gaze, instead letting his head drop so his eyes could safely inspect the stone walkway. Frustration and confusion swept over his body and took over his mind. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. Finally looking up he'd spot Elareyth standing next to a large tree with her nose wrinkled and her tongue pointed right at him. This was all her fault.

denfall

Shana’s voice rang in his mind as the cool sea breeze brushed over his body while the gentle waves lapped against wooden pillars. "Why? Sure she’s from a different cultural background but I think we’d be good together. Besides, I think you’re just jealous that she and I have a special connection." Praxzin cheerfully chimed as he continued to watch over the beautiful woman happily fishing off the Darkmoon Boardwalk just a few yards from the couple. “You don’t have any connection! You’ve just been staring at her tail for the last ten minutes! Praxzin she is a Draenei! You two don’t even speak the same language!” Shanarah huffed in frustration, wrinkling her nose at her husband while he envisioned what life would be like with an alien. The warlock turned to face his scowling wife, gently leaning in to place a kiss upon her forehead with the sweetest, most genuine of smiles. "My dearest Shanarah, I’m sorry, but it was meant to be. I can feel it in my soul." That sweet as honey voice of his only caused Shanarah to become more displeased, her arms folding across her chest as she withdrew from him. “You’re being an idiot!” The woman snarled, loud enough that the Draenei lost focus on her fishing for a moment and turned to face the couple. She gave a slight wave and offered half a smile before before returning her attention to the fishing bobber which lazily float just off shore.

"She beckons me. I must go to her." The young elf said as though he were under a magical trance, starting to rise at her ‘call for him’. “No! You are not going over there!” His wife exclaimed as he stood. She tried to pull at the bottom of his robe as Praxzin started walking but it was too little too late. Snatching a balloon which was tied around one of the nearby wooden pillars, Praxzin approached the female though her attention still remained on the bobber. As the warlock took a seat beside her, the Draenei glanced over at the newcomer quickly before her attention was forced back to her fishing. The line had pulled slightly. "My love, I have finally found you. Among all the men and women on Azeroth, we have finally found each other." Praxzin wasn’t able to make out what the woman’s response was but it sounded annoyed. The line was occasionally pulling and she was close to a catch, though this didn’t deter Praxzin as he tried to connect with his ‘soul-mate’. "I know you’re with the Alliance and I’m with the Horde but together we can overcom-" The constant breeze which prevailed along the island suddenly picked up as if Shanarah had sought the will of a Titan to interrupt his actions. The balloon which he held smacked the poor Draenei in the face, causing her to jump and drop her fishing pole in to the water below. A condescending “Ha!” was quickly shouted at the elf. Praxzin slowly turned to look over his shoulder only to see his wife making obscene gestures towards him. The warlock paid her no mind as he returned his focus to the fisherman, however, as his gaze met her form all he could see was her bright blue, metal ring covered hand coming down towards his face.

Shanarah could hear the slap from where she sat and felt the consequent thud of her husband’s body hitting the rickety wood rumble across the walkway. The force of the attack had knocked him backwards and his face was now buried in to the planks of the boardwalk. "I think she was wearing a wedding ring." He groaned, voice muffled as he tried to stand. Walking back over to Shana she could see how the woman’s hand had left a large red imprint on his right cheek, particularly where her rings rested on her fingers. “You deserved it.” 

He just sat there at the foot of her open grave, casket snugly tucked against the dirt walls of it's new found home. You stupid woman. Praxzin's head hung low over his crossed legs while his messy, dirty, knotted, hair covered all of his facial features. You were such a fool. The elf tried to focus on something, anything, instead of the grave before him. He tried to take in the beautiful day which had graced her funeral, or the peacefulness of the quiet graveyard. But all of his thoughts were easily twisted and corrupted by his rage. How -dare- you leave me. Why did the day have to be so bright and sunny? No one should be happy today. It sickened him. This is all your fault. Why was the cemetery so damned quiet? Not one of the men who lusted after her while she was alive nor her so-called friends had bothered to come to the funeral. I hate you. 

His wilted ears perked and slowly his head rose to look down at her casket. Tears had been making their way from his eyes, down his cheeks, and finally rolling off his dirt covered face. Do I hate her? The thought lingered like poison in his mind as his attention was drawn once more to the vials in his lap. A few had been emptied already but many full ones remained. As his eyes slowly closed he reached down to pick another one up, popping the cork which sealed the contents inside before pressing the cold glass to his lower lip. The congealed liquid lazily made it's way over his skin and in to his mouth before a hard swallow caused it to vanish from his maw. The vial made a loud Clink as it fell on top of the others, continuing to do so as Praxzin's body shook while the liquid made it's way down his throat. It was disgusting.

The warlock remembered the few days leading up to his wife's death. The sadness which overtook her as together they found out they had lost their child. The distance she created as depression overtook her. The note he found so lovingly pinned to the door to their bedroom. The emotional weight caused his body to slump forward and shake as he recalled how helpless he felt... how he still feels.

Then he remembered the days after he found her body strewn across their bed. 

Praxzin relived how angry and tormented he became by her very absence. He saw through spectating eyes how her death caused him to seek new sources of power as though gaining more would save her from events which had already unfolded. The elf watched helplessly as he summoned demons in to their once beautiful home and bound them in place, filling container after container of their blood until the most fearsome of the Burning Legion's minions collapsed before him.

With a gasp Praxzin opened his eyes. He had awoken to the sound of something laughing, calling him from beyond the Dark Portal. As the elf looked around he realized he was still sitting in the same place, though the sun was setting now. Pulling the left sleeve of his robe back across his arm he could see how his corrupted dark red skin continued to crack and break as green fel energy drifted from the divides. He collected all the vials in his lap, filled ones in his right hand and empty ones in his left and stood up to the best of his ability. Pocketing the filled containers beneath his robe, he looked over the empty ones and frowned before glaring down once again to Shanarah's grave. Praxzin felt like he should say something, some sort of goodbye. But nothing came to mind. All he could focus on now was the voice beckoning him away from this place. With a heavy sigh he tossed the empty vials in to her grave and they shattered against her wooden casket. After fully covering his deformed body in his hooded robe, the exile made his way out of the cemetery for the last time.

He'd never step foot on this world again. 

It’ll just cut through the wall and I’ll get out of here. Then I can figure out where I am. Praxzin thought as he began to summon his Felguard, bright purple runes encircling the floor around his body as dark energy flowed through the area during the ritual. With a forcefully extended hand the Warlock cast his spell causing the air from the room to be sucked through dark void manifesting itself before him as it tore it’s way through dimensions to create a gateway to another realm. With a sigh Praxzin folded his arms across his chest as he impatiently waited for his minion to enter this plane of existence, though something appeared… off. The young elf heard yelling coming through the other side of the gateway. Why is it screaming? I didn’t command it to scream. Praxzin’s brow furrowed and his eyes squinted as a massive creature marched through the gateway, furious it had been called in to this world. “Foolish mortal! I will break your body and consume your soul for your transgressions!” The unbound Felguard cried out, threatening the small being before it. Huh… That’s not supposed to happen. He causally mused while he inspected the demon’s form as though he had nothing better to do.

Finally Praxzin decided to cast a spell to banish the Felguard, though as he began the incantations he interrupted himself. No, it doesn’t look that tough. I’ll just beat it out of this world. With a smug grin Praxzin started to gather shadow magic, letting it surround and envelop himself. Though while he did so, the Felguard acted without hesitation, roaring and swinging his large axe down over the warlock looking to divide him in two. However, the shaft of weapon was caught in the palm of a pitch black hand before bright fel green fingers slowly wrapped around it. The Felguard glared at the laughing creature which had formed before it; Praxzin had used the magic to ‘transform’ his body in to one of similar size and strength to the Felguard and now the new demon’s fist was headed straight for it’s armored jaw. With a solid hit the Felguard’s neck twisted and it’s body was sent across the small room to a nearby wall. When it made contact the room shook as a large dent was created before the foul beast slumped down to the ground, the massive war axe solidly in it’s grasp.

That was easier than I thought. Praxzin beamed as his attention now focused on the opposite wall. All I have to do is just knock down th- His thoughts were disrupted by the horrible sound of metal ripping through leather. Praxzin could feel as the demon’s blade tore inch by agonizing inch through one of the faux wings protruding from his back. Shuttering, the elf turned around just in time to see the demon raise it’s weapon again for another blow. With his form shimmering and wavering around him, the Warlock panicked as he tried to gather what remained of his energy for a final spell. Though he couldn’t sustain his form any longer, his energy drained and his focus shattered, Praxzin used everything he had left to quickly banish the demon back through the portal. It roared in anger and was pulled through the now closing gateway and back to it’s place of origin.As the rift finally closed upon itself, the weakened warlock fell upon his ass against the wall feeling lucky to be alive. Sweat dripped from his brow as a paleness replaced the formerly flushed features across his face, his eyes falling shut as he took a moment to calm himself.

Next time, just banish it.

((I'm sorry ahead of time if I butcher Fasha's personality.))

Praxzin leaned on the table, drumming his fingers along the cloth as he waited for his date to show up to the restaurant. She was late. Fifteen minutes late. His eyes had long forgotten watching the doorway in that time, instead scanning around the decor of the venue searching for anything entertaining. The loud, "Ahem!" caught him off guard and the elf jumped slightly, knees shaking the table as he turned to see his date finally arrive. "Fasha! I'm glad you could make it." He spoke as genuinely as he could, though being held up for so long already gave him doubts about the evening. Praxzin stood up, stretching his open palm across the table. "Let me get that cha-" His words were silenced by a frown as the woman pulled the seat out herself and promptly sat, remaining dead silent as Praxzin retook his seat. "So... I took the liberty of ordering us some wine."

"Weak." The woman said in a calm and precise manner while her head tilted to the side to glare at the man. "Well we can always order something stronger once the waiter gets here." The Warlock responded through a forced smile. This night definitely wasn't going to go well. "I like your dress, it really does suit you." Praxzin chimed, trying to regain his spirits. "I always wear this. Looks like you didn't put any effort in to your outfit though." He couldn't help but let his eyes squint at Fasha. He had just purchased the tux that morning under the recommendation that it would make him presentable for her. Still he tried to force a smile and speak again but all that escaped him was a humming, "Hmmm." The two remained in silence until the waiter returned, Fasha looking bored out of her mind and Praxzin fighting back the urge to set the table on fire.

legionwitch