Jarlax stood atop the highest tower of the castle, gazing out at the sprawling kingdom before him. Once, he had been a powerful dark mage, respected and feared by all. But now, he was nothing more than a fugitive, a pariah among his own kind.
It had all started when he began to grow tired of the collective, the idea that all dark mages were meant to work together for the greater good. He wanted more, wanted power and wealth for himself. So he had turned to soul harvesting, a twisted practice that involved capturing the souls of the innocent and using them for his own gain.
But this had turned him into an abomination, a creature of fire and death and doom. His skin was now blackened and charred, and his eyes glowed with a hellish fire. He was no longer welcome among the dark eternals, and he had been forced to flee into hiding, using his powers to summon creatures of the shadows to do his bidding.
Jarlax had always been a powerful summoner, able to call forth all manner of dark beasts and spirits. But now, his powers were even greater, fueled by the countless souls he had harvested. He was a force to be reckoned with, feared by all who knew of his existence.
But even with all of his power, Jarlax knew that he could not hide forever. The dark eternals were searching for him, determined to bring him to justice for his crimes. And so he remained on the run, always looking over his shoulder, always ready to flee at a moment's notice.
One day, as he was wandering the countryside, Jarlax came across a small village that had been ravaged by bandits. The people were starving and desperate, and Jarlax knew that he could use his powers to help them.
He summoned a horde of undead soldiers, commanding them to drive off the bandits and protect the village. The people were grateful, and Jarlax found himself feeling a sense of purpose that he had not known in a long time.
As he left the village, Jarlax knew that he could not stay. He was still a wanted man, and he could not risk being caught. But he also knew that he could not turn his back on those in need.
And so he began to roam the kingdom, using his powers to protect the innocent and fight against injustice wherever he found it. He knew that he could never return to the collective, but he also knew that he could not continue to live as a monster, feared and reviled by all.
Jarlax had always been a powerful dark mage, but now he was something more. He was a protector, a hero in his own way, even if the world would never know his name.
IMAGE CREDIT: THE IMAGE USED IN THIS POST IS CREDITED TO SPLINTERLANDS.