Erzaad Vaushir

Cheery, adventure junkie warlock


Erzaad is a scrawny, yet energetic young man. He stands 5’7” tall, weighing 150lbs. His eyes, though originally blue, have turned indigo after the demon incident. He keeps his short brown hair in a messy, carefree style. No scars.

Erzaad wears some generic leather armor during combat.

Erzaad favors the Eldritch Glaive invocation (among others). The invocation manifests a 7’ long polearm. The weapon glows indigo and is partially transparent. The glaive is almost weightless, but cuts with the force of his eldritch blast.


Succession planning wasn’t the only reason his parents wanted to keep Erzaad working in the Sleepy Stallion Inn and Tavern. It was for his own protection. He couldn’t swing a sword without cutting himself. He wasn’t exceptionally smart (book, street, or otherwise). And he certainly wasn’t an athlete. But worst of all, he was foolish. Foolish and lucky. Foolish enough to get himself into situations of mortal peril, but lucky enough to always emerge mostly unscathed (and without having learned a lesson).

However, after years of sneaking out to watch the White Dragons train or explore the city streets after dark, Erzaad’s parents had given up on trying to get him to work in the family business. It was very clear that inn hospitality wasn’t exciting enough for him. He craved something more stimulating, something more… dangerous. For better or worse, his soul ached for the life of an adventurer.

Once Erzaad was of legal age, he attended open tryouts for the White Dragons guild. He failed almost immediately after his sword slipped out of his hands and nearly decapitated the recruiter. But one month later, they allowed him to try out again, which they immediately regretted when he somehow set fire to the obstacle course. Lucky for him, no one was hurt. The guild offered not to press charges if Erzaad agreed to never try out for the guild again. Erzaad declined. So, he was arrested for vandalism and ended up behind bars.

One month later, he was released early for good behavior. His first act as a free man was to try out once more for the White Dragons. The recruiter’s face grew pale as Erzaad approached the sign-in table smiling.

“No, no, no no no, not again. Get out of here, Erzaad! You are not welcome here anymore,” cried the recruiter.

“Aw, come on, Carl. One more try! I promise I can make the cut this time,” begged Erzaad. “Besides, these tryouts are open to the public. I served my time, so I’m part of the public again.”

“Gods help us all,” Carl muttered to himself. “Why do you want to be part of the White Dragons so bad anyway?”
With every honest bone in his body, Erzaad simply replied, “Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

Carl harrumphed.

“Fine. If it means that much to you, I’ll give you one more chance. But this time, I have a special test for you. We recently got a report of some possible cultists operating in this district. Rituals, sacrifices, and the like. We’ve been hired to put an end to it. A small squad will be entering the sewers after midnight to sniff them out. You’ll be going with them. Trial by fire. If you, and the rest of the team, come back alive successful, you’re in. Now, go see the quartermaster for your gear. Try not to break any of it.”

Erzaad gasped, hugged Carl, then proceeded to sprint off to the barracks.

After nightfall, Erzaad and the rest of the team made their way into the underbelly of the city. He tried to stay as professional as possible, but it wasn’t long until his excitement got the better of him and he ran out in front of the pack. Almost immediately, he fell through a trap door.

It could have been a 100ft drop that killed him instantly or a spike pit that caused a slow and painful death. But it wasn’t. Erzaad was, as always, lucky. Instead of dying horribly, Erzaad slid down a stone tunnel and landed inside a small cage. Standing just outside the iron bars, were several chanting men wearing blood red robes.

“It seems our lord favors us this day. He has delivered to us a sacrifice,” flatly spoke one of the hooded cultists. “Let us finish the ritual so he may feed.”

“Aww, no need to hurry on my account. I already ate dinner,” Erzaad joked.

“The meal is not for you, heathen. You are the meal.” Humorlessly responded the cultist.
Erzaad chuckled nervously, “I figured you’d say that…”

Erzaad made several unsuccessful escape attempts. He was too short to climb back up the tunnel, too weak to break the lock, and too thick to squeeze through the bars. The only thing he could do was watch as the cultists continued their arcane ritual, pouring over their tomes, reciting infernal words.

Nothing new seemed to happen for awhile. The cloaked men just stood there chanting in a language that Erzaad couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until the head cultist started to draw a large summoning circle around Erzaad’s cage did things get interesting. When it was complete, he stepped back and clapped his hands together.

“Nahpezuzon! With this human offering, we summon you to the Material Plane! We call upon you to awaken! Arise and grant us the power we seek!”

With a flash of red light that temporarily blinded everyone in the room, a large demon appeared in the center of the summoning circle.

“Who dares disturb me from my slumber,” growled the infernal creature.

“My lord, we have summoned you here to humbly request for a fraction of your great power with which we may smite our enemies,” responded the lead cultist with the faintest hint of fear. He gestured over to Erzaad, still trapped in the cage. “We offer you this human sacrifice as tribute.”

Nahpezuzon turned to Erzaad, leaning in closer to size him up.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to eat me, nothing but skin and bones,” Erzaad said as he lifted up his shirt. “I’m probably not even a midnight snack for you.”

“You do seem rather… scrawny,” agreed the beast.

Erzaad continued, “Yeah, scrawny and feeble. Certainly not worth imbuing these guys with ultimate cosmic power for anyway. They could have found a much better sacrifice for you. Honestly, their effort is rather embarrassing.” Erzaad shook his head in disappointment. Nahpezuzon turned and glared at the cultists.

“In fact,” Erzaad continued, “they should be punished for waking you up prematurely. I know how annoying it is to not get a full night’s sleep. Ruins the whole day, wouldn’t you agree?” Reed grit his teeth, hoping that the demon would respond favorably.

As is often the case, Erzaad was lucky. “You make a good point, human,” Nahpezuzon concurred. “I would gladly rip off their heads myself. However, I cannot leave this summoning circle and return to my plane until a deal is made or the spell is cancelled.”

Erzaad’s eyes lit up, seeing an opportunity to escape. “Then how about you make a deal with me? Give me a portion of your power and I’ll punish them for you. They’ll never disturb your rest again.” Erzaad mentally crossed his fingers.

The cultists stood by, dumbstruck at what was happening. Their sacrifice was bartering with their lord and savior, at their expense. After a moment of silence, Nahpezuzon broke out laughing. “Ha! You’ve got guts, scrawny human. You’re entertaining if nothing else. Very well. Take my power and destroy these pompous interlopers in my name!”

The demon extended a claw and Erzaad reached out to shake it. Upon contact, Erzaad was lifted off the ground. He was surrounded by a dark purple light as the eldritch power rushed into his veins. The experience, while incredible, was over in a matter of seconds.

“You are now imbued with eldritch energy from the Nine Hells and the Outer Planes. Use it to break free and strike down these imbeciles!” Nahpezuzon shouted excitedly.
Erzaad, almost instinctively, focused on the lock of his cell and spoke a word of the Dark Speech. To the shock of the cultists, the metal padlock shattered completely, swinging the door open.

“K…kill him!” yelled one of the cultists. They rushed towards Erzaad wielding ceremonial daggers. As they approached, Erzaad tried out another one of his new abilities and blasted a few in the face with eldritch energy. They dropped instantly.

Undeterred, the remaining cultists lunged at Erzaad, swinging wildly. His reflexes seemed sharper as he dodged their strikes with ease. Taking a small step back, Erzaad formed a large polearm made entirely of eldritch energy, which he quickly used to dispatch the cultists in front of him.

Erzaad was about to start celebrating, until he saw the head cultist charging with a spell. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he knew getting touched would likely kill him. The cultist was agile, but not as quick as the powered up Erzaad, who proceeded to cut off the cultist’s legs from under him with his eldritch glaive.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” choked the cultist before dying.

“That… was… awesome,” wheezed Erzaad as he caught his breath.

“Our deal is complete. You wield the power well, mortal. You are indeed entertaining,” complimented Nahpezuzon. “Perhaps someday I will call upon you to entertain me further… but for now, I shall return to my resting place.”

“Take care, Nahpezuzon. Sleep well,” Erzaad replied politely as he waved goodbye.
As he began shifting back to his own plane, Nahpezuzon warned, “Train hard, human. You’ll need more power for the trials to come…”

“What trials,” asked Erzaad. Nahpezuzon just grinned as he vanished from sight. It was in this moment that the locked door to the room was kicked in. Erzaad turned to see the White Dragon squad standing flabbergasted. Erzaad just smiled.

“Hey guys, what took you so long?”

Erzaad Vaushir

Estin, The Celestial City Vyuun