Níaix was an Oglodi outcast.
Seeking sinful magical knowledge that most
of his kind highly frowned upon, he willingly
accepted exile, being certain that his true
calling awaits somewhere far away from home.
A year after leaving Druud, Níaix found himself
in the city of Devarque, a place infamous
for freely practicing dark magic and using
it for unspeakable purposes, including excruciating
torture and manipulation of life force.
For a brief moment, the scholar thought this
place would become his new home, a place to
study his craft without persecution or interruption.
Unfortunately for Níaix, the citizens of
Devarque shunned him for his outlandish origins
instead of embracing his passion for their
dark art.
Needless to say, he was denied all access
to Devarquian libraries and colleges.
Infuriated by such display of disrespect and
xenophobia, the Oglodi left the wretched city
to devise a plan of utmost skill and cunning.
Soon enough, Níaix returned to the dark metropolis
under the guise of the night.
While possessing a rather miniscule knowledge
of the arcane, he still managed to enter one
of the cityís biggest libraries undetected.
Inside, he was surrounded by thousands of
tomes, each depicting forbidden rituals and
infernal incantations.
Níaix could almost hear each tainted book
calling out to him in a fiendish, supernatural
language.
Níaix was forced to awaken from his blissful
trance when he remembered that time was of
the essence.
He quickly grabbed every tome he could fit
in his ragged backpack and carry in one hand
and ran for the exit, still certain that his
seemingly perfect plan did not fail.
He ran away from the city until dawn, not
wanting to take any chances.
Níaix felt no fatigue; he had a feeling that
this was truly the first day of his glorious
new life.
As soon as he felt secure in being an appropriate
distance from Devarque, Níaix sat under a
giant, dead oak and opened the book previously
clenched in his left fist.
The dark mages of Devarque were immediately
alerted of this act.
Unbeknownst to Níaix, every magical artefact
and document from within the cityís walls
was enchanted with a spell that sent out a
signal to the cityís Vile Council whenever
their magic is learned or practiced outside
the city.
A cavalry was immediately dispatched to apprehend
the lawbreaker and Níaix, still awestruck
by learning so many arcane secrets, only snapped
out of his mental journey after being bound
in shackles within the darkest cell of the
Devarquian dungeon.
The cell door closed before he could utter
a single word.
Níaix was left there alone, to rot and repent
for his crimes against the Vile Council.
As centuries passed, his body shrunk and rotted
due to malnutrition and dehydration while
his mind drifted into madness because of loneliness
and despair.
One day, Níaix got a ëívisitoríí in what
was now his only home, a middle-aged wizard
was thrown into the cell.
Despite this being the first person heís
seen in years, being the lifeless sack of
festering flesh and bone, Níaix was unable
to react in any way.
His mind was completely gone, leaving no trace
of the curiosity and passion it showed in
the past.
The mysterious wizard saw an opportunity in
his cell-mateís predicament, a way to escape
the dungeon and get vengeance on his captors.
The spellcaster started channeling a spell
that would transfer his consciousness into
the lifeless body of Níaix.
Overwhelmed by the vortex of agony and madness
that was the mind of Níaix, the wizard went
completely insane.
On the other hand, the fresh dose of life
awakened a small part of the tortured Oglodiís
mind.
The wizardís descent into madness made him
lose memory of his original intent, all that
mattered was getting out of the cold, dark
cell.
Níaix received commands from his new master
to take control of or slaughter anyone in
their way.
Upon taking the lives of countless guards,
the disfigured creature felt invigorated like
never before, its power growing with the life
of every man, woman, child and animal it took
while executing the great escape from the
city.
To this day, the monstrosity now known as
Lifestealer roams the land, slaughtering everything
with extreme prejudice.
The last sound its victims hear is the rattling
of chains still attached to the shackles around
Lifestealerís wrists.
Níaix left them on intentionally, to remind
him of how he will very soon regain full freedom.
Until that day, he will pretend to obey his
insane lordís commands.
And with every life devoured, the slave is
one step closer to overthrowing the master.
