Percival rode down the mountain pass from the estate to a small rocky clearing at the base of the hills. Upon his arrival he dismounted his felsteed; leaving it to trot about and do as it pleased.
“This should do nicely,” he mumbled to himself as he snapped his finger, igniting its tip in burning fel fire, “Now let’s begin.”
Moving to the center of the clearing he shot a ray of burning magic at the ground, scorching a rune circle into the dirt around him. Once the advanced rune circle was complete he pulled out his grimoire and flipped trough the pages until he found the entry he was looking for.
“reduce the number of runes...increase input of power to the summoning...incantation is.... aha there we are.” he spoke aloud to himself.
He looked up to the sky, dark clouds began rolling in from the coast. The summoner frowned as he smelt rain in the air. “Lets hope this goes smoothly then, I’d hate to have to fight in a downpour.”
With that he closed his grimoire and tucked it away on his belt; finishing up the details of the rune circle. Taking a few steps away from the circle, Percival went over the details of his work a few more times before taking a deep breath and preparing to begin.
He took a stance a few feet away from the circle. Holding his hands together in a foreign gesture he whispered the incantation. A flash of lightning and the distant rumble of thunder attempted to drown out his words.
Extending his hands outwards he began flooding magic power into the circle. Raindrops began to trickle down slowly as if in response to his ritual. Space and time began to distort inside of the circle as he strained to pour more power into the circle, his muscles flexed and sweat dripped from his forehead, the lack of runes meant he needed to do most of the spellwork himself. Another flash and boom rolled through the mountains as he called out the final word of power, “Kiz-Tarash!”
A large, demonic figure materialized before him holding a pair of fel-enchanted spears. “You have great power, Warlock. I live to serve,” The Wrathguard answered as it knelt down. “My blades are yours.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Eredar.” Percival acknowledged his new demons words. “I am in need of a skilled warrior and commander for my thralls. I hope you prove worthy. Now return to the nether and await me to call on you again.”
No sooner did the words leave his mouth, the warlock banished his new demon back to the chaos of the nether and whistled for his steed. The rain now pouring down full force as he made his way back to the estate.
