LEGEND OF THE MONK: book one

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                                                           CHAPTER 6

                                                    BARAKUS THE BLACK

Several hundred miles south of the Dragon's Peak monastery, and even a few hundred past the great city of Gallon Port, A tiefling stood leaned against a crumbling wall in the city ruins of an old fishing town. Barakus was his name, Barakus the Black, and his soul was as dark as the name suggested. With his cloak thrown back over his shoulders, and his horned head shining in the dimming sun, the tiefling casually spun his devil headed walking stick, watching the sunset. The magic cane hummed with power as his mind drifted off as he waited for his prey.

Barakus was a powerful warlock, capable of casting the most sinister of spells without Mercy, and not only was he a great spell-caster, he didn't fit the role of the frail and weak warlock, relying on his spells to keep him alive. Barakus was a physically powerful tiefling, standing over six feet tall and well muscled. He also was an exceptional fighter. He could kill most men with just a dagger and hold his own against even well trained fighters.

The warlock's most telling features was his dark crimson skin tone, and of course his two large horns extending from the corners of his forehead and rolling back around the sides of his crown. Barakus also had a two foot tail, but for the most part, stayed hidden behind his magic cloak, a gift from his mistress. His cloak was a shiny black, and would allow the wearer to blend into the shadows with ease, becoming nearly invisible in dark places. Like his cloak Barakus wore all black, from his studded leather boots and pants, the his low cut leather vest. The vest showed off his muscled chest and arms, making him look even more intimidating.

The cloak wasn't his only magic item. He also had the devil headed cane that could conjour a blast of fire at a moments thought, but his most prized item was his wicked pact blade. It was a dagger twelve inches long, with a curved razor sharp blade. The dagger had runes eched into the length of the blade. The weapon was sought after by many warlocks. The wicked pact blade would allow a warlock to channel his evil magic through the dagger, as well as absorb energy from other sources.

While Barakus stood in the ruined city waiting on his prey, his thoughts drifted to the day he became a warlock, and the pact he made with the mighty Pit Fiend.

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Barakus was nine years old, and was starving. He had no idea how he had survived the last three years on the dangerous and unforgiving streets of Sunstone. All alone, and only a child, the young tiefling survived by thieving and rummaging for scraps. Some days he wouldn't eat at all, while other days what he did find to eat wasn't good, and never healthy. After all few people would show a tiefling and decency. The tiefling race was viewed as cursed, evils spawns of devils.

Sunstone was one of the largest desert cities, sitting right on top of a watering oasis, and just happened to be the most plentiful water source in several hundred miles in any direction. The city of Sunstone was not a paradise however. It was a ruthless city ran by powerful thieves gilds. Two of the gilds were the most feared and run the city, the Pashas and the Sadias.

The Pashas held the top ranked spot in the city and the Sadias were there bitter rivals. The two gilds were often at each others throats in gang wars. The Pashas tend to be a little more suddel and cunning in getting what the wanted, where as the Sadias exceled in brutality. The citizens of the city, the lesser gangs. not even the pathetic mayor and his guards would cross either of the two gangs.