Becoming a Warlock

Zatruk did not know how long he had been here, bound and helpless. All he knew was the pain, the pain and the darkness and the questions.
"Where are the rest of the Counts forces hiding?"
"Who is supplying you with weapons?"
"How many mages does the Count have working for him?"
After weeks of constant torture with the only respite the dreaded visits of the cleric to heal him up, Zatruk grew more desperate. He had tried telling the truth, that he was not from here, though that should have been obvious. He had not seen a no other minotaur for at least half a year. He had tried lying, but they knew when he was doing that. That had cost him his horns, and the clerics healing did not bring those back. Zatruk now accepted he was likely being tortured now just for the amusement of his captors, and so he fell back on what he knew from his childhood.
He prayed, as he had during the years of the plague. He prayed to anyone who would listen: for respite, for rescue, for release. He recieved none of these and his prayers were unanswered. If the gods wont listen Zatruk thought then I shall pray to the void. So he sent his hopes and his dreams out into the void. After what he had endured, though, his dreams were no longer so innocent. He dreamed of switching places with his captors, of visiting upon them what they had done to him.
And the void answered.

_{WOULD YOU LIKE THE POWER}^{can you handle it}

^{do you know what was done to you}_{WOULD YOU DO WORSE TO THEM}

THEN TAKE THIS _GIFT^curseAND FREE ^us_YOURSELF

The Void exploded behind Zatruk's eyes and the burning of his tortured limbs was replaced with a cold flickering power. Except flickering was not the right word. The power BLAZED inside him, yearning to be used. Zatruk did not know who his savior was (who they were?) but they had given him this gift, and he would use it. WIth a thought he unleashed the power into his bonds. The metal shackles turned into dustand he fell heavily to the ground.
As he was standing a guard on patrol walked by, Bald Ben, one of the meaner ones truth be told Red filled Zatruk's vision, remembering the petty discomforts Bald ben heaped on him, and likely other prisoners. The next thing Zatruk knew he was in the cell opposite his own, the guard pinned to the wall in fron of him with an eldrich horn through his chest as his eyes and mouth smoked.