Goblins

Born to a goblin father and an elven priestess mother, he grew up deep within a secretive, blood-soaked cult in the forsaken marshes of Tirisfal. Faithful devotion twisted over time. Monstrous rituals followed- pain, obedience, and living sacrifice. Years of horror broke Atticus. He finally snapped. He slaughtered the inner circle (including his own mother), burned every bridge- literally and figuratively- and fled the ashes of his past.

Now he wanders, quiet and weary, scarred by trauma and silent defiance.

Gaz Hellspark was twenty-two and already sick of being small.

He came from three levels below ground in Kezan, where most goblins stayed small their whole lives- fixing other people’s machines, running errands for the cartels, and dying young in cave-ins or stupid fights. Gaz wanted out. He wanted coin that actually stayed in his pocket. He wanted his name to mean something. Big fortune. Big inventions. Maybe even a little fame.

So he tinkered. He schemed. He took every risk he could stomach.

Then one night he found an old book in a crate of scrap and thought, why not?

He believed he’d struck the deal of a lifetime when he summoned a demon and agreed to host demons in exchange for immortality. At first it even amused him. Immortality? No problem. He could scheme, conquer, and profit forever. And if he ever got bored, he could just end it himself - fire, explosions, drowning, whatever it took. He figured true immortality wasn’t even real.

He was wrong.

Death never stuck. No matter how bad it got. Fire burned him to ash, water filled his lungs, bullets tore holes through him - he always came back, whole and aware, feeling every second of it. What he thought was freedom turned into a cage. Eternal life at the demons’ whims. The one escape he’d counted on - real death- was gone forever.

Now Gaz Hellspark haunts the world as an undying warlock. His body is no longer fully his. It’s a vessel. A harbor for demons that come and go as they please, using his flesh whenever the contract calls for it. He still schemes, still survives, but every year the weight gets heavier. Every time he watches a mortal live and die, it reminds him that the bargain he made for power and freedom only trapped him in unending servitude.