AN: This is based off of an OC I use for roleplaying on World of Warcraft. In fact, every character in this story is an OC. That being said, it's still going to pan out to be a decent story, if I do say so myself. If you have qualms with OCs, then this isn't the story to read. Otherwise, please enjoy!

"The only way to truly master the art of demonology is to have confidence. Only then will your minions know who is in charge. Don't be insecure, or you will pay the ultimate price."

Harrison stepped back to study his work. The young demonologist had mastered the drawing of summoning circles, if nothing else. The purple shadow magic outlined the circle, covered with demonic runes and linear visuals. The newly-graduated acolyte grinned in satisfaction as his creation glowed the eerie color on the cold, stone floors of the Slaughtered Lamb crypt.

Her arms wrapped around his left arm, a young woman clad in similar dark robes as his looked down at the circle, then back to him, curiosity visible on her countenance. "What are you doing with this?" she asked.

Harrison was quick to turn his head towards his fiancé. He puffed up his chest, declaring, "Remember the lesson by Demon Master Grimweave a few days ago?"

The woman nodded her head, although not with full confidence in her comprehension. "About insecurity?" she questioned.

"Aye. He said, 'With a sound vision and confidence, you can control anythin'!'"

"I think I know where this is going," the woman said, after a brief pause.

"I don't like it."

The energy coursing through Harrison Eberlin's soul suddenly ceased after hearing the woman's terse remark. The room around him became colder as his blood stopped. He had come to the realization far before that he did not want to be rejected by this woman, but this was a particularly-hard blow to him. Harrison frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as his chest puffed down. "Why? Don't you think I can do it? You don't even know what I'm lookin' to summon, Elisa!"

Elisa looked down at the circle, sighing. "It's obvious. Just by looking at the circle, you're going to try to summon a felguard." She looked back up at him with concerned eyes before continuing. "That's not a good idea, Harry. You could get hurt, and you're barely even a neophyte. You can control felhounds, sure, but a felguard is something totally different!"

"What's so different 'bout a felguard?" Harrison shouted angrily.

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe just that it's larger, stronger, more tied to the Legion...," Elisa trails off. "Did you even listen to Nethermancer Shadowfist when he told us about the different demons?"

Harrison gulps, tugging on the collar of his robes. "Yeah I did! That doesn't matter, though. I know I can control this thing. Just you watch!" He felt treacherous sweat beads beginning to form on the palms of his hands. He wanted to clench them into a fist and slam them into the wall in anger. Or, was it fear?

"Fine. I'm staying," Elisa reluctantly grumbles. "I'm only staying so that I can help you when you lose control of it." The young girl moved, careful not to step on Harrison's masterfully-drawn summoning circle, to the other side of the room. She sat down, crossing her legs. Harrison couldn't help but smile, releasing a bit of steam from his tense spirit. Even when she was angry with him, she was a gorgeous woman. Her dark-brown hair framed her face well before coming down to her shoulders and curling out. Her eyes, although accented with her furrowing eyebrows at the time, had a beautiful shade of green. Her skin was pale, but this only served to enhance her dark hair. Harrison couldn't deny that his life revolved around the young Elisabeth Stanton.

He swallowed hard as he walked up to his summoning circle. The shadows in the crypt seemed to swirl around him, coming from the summoning circle. They filled his soul, running amuck as he prepared his stance. He held out a reluctant hand, the shadows beginning to swirl around it. The way they darted back and forth from the circle taunted him, much like the piercing, but familiar, voice coming from his future wife.

"Are you going to do anything, or are you just going to stand there with a purple hand?"

Harrison looked up at his fiancé. His vision became clouded. He quickly spat, "Just wait!" before he engrossed himself in the ritual. He could hardly hear his fiancé cry out to him, let alone make out the words.

"You won't make it!"

All Eberlin could see, hear, and feel became shadow. He slipped into the trance easily, allowing the shadows to consume him. He bent over, reveling in the source of the magic. The summoning circle began to shift colors: from the eerie purple to a green flame.

"Harrison, stop!"

All he heard was encouragement in the back of his mind: "You have to do this." The deep voice rang through his head, propelling him to move forward. The voice of his love was nothing.

At this, Eberlin thrust out both of his hands, turning his palms away from each other. He ripped at the air with claw-like motions, moving out from the center. Where his hands moved, a trail of felfire followed. The motion caused what seemed to be some sort of fissure open up: a black portal with green fel lining.


He reveled in his work, watching as a large demon tore its way through the hole, causing it to close.

The shadows subsided, and Eberlin shook his head to see his summoned demon. Standing at least three-feet above him, the red-skinned demon looked down upon him with green glowing eyes. The felguard wielded a large double-bladed polearm, ready for battle.

"Harry..," whimpered a voice from the other side of the room.

Harrison stepped around the demon into the line of sight of his awe-struck fiancé. With a smirk painted across his face, gestured towards the demon. "Not bad?"

"Harry, dear…"

"What, Elisa?"

"This… this can't be safe. Dismiss it!"

Harrison shifted his weight to the right, chuckling. "Now why would I do that? Scared of a little demon?" He laughs even harder at the woman's fear.

"Dismiss it, dismiss it, dismiss it!" Elisa shrieked in fear.

Harrison looked to the terror-struck woman, his slate-blue eyes painted with sincerity. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, dear," he said, his smirk turning to a smile. Seeing Elisa nod slightly to acknowledge his protection, he turned to face the demon.

"You are Gatazal?" Harrison asked the demon, speaking fluent Demonic. The smile had changed back to its usual arrogant smirk.

The demon responded with a tersely-spoken "Yes." The voice sounded familiar, oh so familiar.

"Come with me, Gatazal. I will show you to my old teacher," Eberlin said, beckoning for the demon to follow him as he began to walk towards the exit of the chamber.


Eberlin pivoted to face the growling demon. The demon assumed an offensive stance as the neophyte glared at him.

"What do you think you are—"

The aspirant was cut off by a slash of the demon's polearm to the face, and a scream of terror coming from the other side of the room.

The cold, stone floors of the Slaughtered Lamb crypt greeted Eberlin's reawakening. This was the first thing he felt. He moved his fingers from one spot to the next. It was all so frigid; so unforgiving.

The second thing he noticed was the cold stares of the warlocks surrounding him, clearly not moved by his re-emergence into the world of the living. They looked so unforgiving; like even the greatest generosity could not remove their somber stares.

The temperature of the room chilled him to the bone. It penetrated skin, which was all visible except for a covering of decency. He felt vulnerable. He was vulnerable. The looming, sorrowful figures staring him in the eye could rip through him at any moment.

And this is what they did. He was blasted by the searing flames of reality as his fourth welcoming.

"What were you thinking, you stupid neophyte?"

"Did you know what you were even doing?"

"You weren't ready for that!"

"You got your fiancé killed!"

Eberlin lingers the most on the fourth smattering of reality. All the coldness in the room was replaced by this stinging hot feeling when he repeated her name and warlocks began to taunt him in fits of rage. That was it. Rage. The searing hot feeling in the air was not regret, not pity, and not sadness. It was rage. The cold touch of his angst was melted by his newfound anger. It coursed through his veins.

He jerked himself up, turning around to meet every warlock in the eye. He looked at one face in particular: that of Demon Master Grimweave.

"I will be leaving now."

Generally, it is noted that Harrison Eberlin the demonologist is no longer walking Azeroth. He was a frigid man with no base on which to stand. Like all men before today, he had a legacy. That legacy is a soul searing with passion like magma flowing down from a volcano. He is free, he is aware, and he is alive.