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Vital Stats Edit

Name: Petior Vishovski (Peet'wah Vee'shahv'skee)
Nicknames: Pete
Title: Demonologist
Affiliation: Rini Dieb
Race: Human
Class: Warlock
Specialization: Destruction
Professions: Tailoring/Enchanting
Age: 22
Eye Color: Green
Hair: Blonde/Brown
Skin-Tone: Caucasian
Height: 6'4
Weight: 280 lbs.
Alignment: Neutral
Current Status: Alive and well

Mr. Book Edit

Feel free to read from Pete's journal, PV_Mr_Book.

Miscellaneous Information Edit

Favorite...
Location: Wisps and Spirits
Color: Blue
Food: Marinated Coyote Steaks
Drink: Ice Cold Milk with a hint of Volatile Rum
Quote: Your soul is mine...

Worst...
Location: Wetlands
Color: Doesn't have one
Food: Fancy foods
Drink: Salt water
Quote: Can you pick up the bill?

Physical Appearance Edit

Petior is a very large man, standing at 6'4 and weighing almost 300 pounds of muscle. He has long brown hair, with a spot of blonde tips.

Personality Edit

Pete is not a very nice person to strangers. Ever since his corruption, everyone judges him based solely on the fact that he is a warlock. At times, he can even be an ass to his friends.

Origins Edit

Pete: The Warrior Edit

Compared to many of the inhabitants of Azeroth, Petior’s history is quite simple. He was born in Kul’Tiras to Ivan and Anna Vishovski three years after the Orcs invaded Azeroth. Ivan was a dock handler for the navy during the first two wars and works only on civilian ships now. Anna stayed at home and took care of Petior and his younger sister, Elvire. He was always a shy boy, hiding behind his parents when they would visit with relatives and friends. His fear of society formed a slight stutter in his speech.

When he got older, he began to work on a local farm. The years of manual labor began to show as his frame increased. He would do the basic work of feeding the animals, bailing and stacking straw, repairing broken equipment, and walking the plow. He was happy to have his job, but in the back of his mind he dreamed of adventure. Growing up on an island leaves very little for exploration. Petior worked hard and saved his money to buy a trip across the channel to the Kingdom of Stormwind. Ivan and Anna worried about him, since the Eastern Kingdoms was such a dangerous place and they felt he did not have the necessary rage to survive. However, Ivan had a network of friends and got Petior a job working at the Maclure Vineyard. Petior said goodbye to his family and boarded the vessel to the south.

A week or two after his arrival in the Stormwind territories, he joined up with a band of explorers known as Rini Dieb. He quickly fit in with them and soon had a few minor adventures with his new friends. One day, the leader of explorers called for a meeting. She explained how upset she was that business was going slowly. Petior took this as a personal challenge to find something new and exciting, so he packed his things and decided to try to find the great Alexstrasza and Neltharion.

As he wandered around the Wetlands, he was attacked and captured by the Dragonmaw Clan. The Orcs threw him in a cage and constantly poked him with their swords and spears to keep their prisoner awake. In the night, an old friend of his, Etimgets Azureblade, rescued him. The Elf took Petior to a local Dwarven stronghold under the care of Father Evan. Petior had acquired an infection on his shoulder from the Orc’s constant stabbing. The Dwarf couldn’t save his life, and he passed away.

Pete: The Warlock Edit

I could see my body. With immaculate vision, I floated into the air, freely flying. Then I felt a slight tug pulling me up. “Could this be ‘the light’ that the priests and paladins had spoken of?” I thought as I floated higher and higher. I soared until I could see both continents plainly, almost close enough to touch the moon. Instantly, I was somewhere else, another plane of existence. I stood in a long line and at the front of the line were the gates to a great walled city.

“Hey, what is this?” I had tapped the shoulder of the creature in front of me.

The creature turned and said “Murglegurlgurgle.”

Standing there in awe, staring at the murloc I said, “Wow, you guys are even more annoying dead than alive.” The murloc shrugged and turned back around. By my estimate of time, I hadn’t moved in the line for a half hour. I poked his head to the side to try to see if there was some sort of express lane for humans. Not seeing one, I sighed and began to look around. Behind me there were thousands more creatures in line, and they all had the same droopy expression. “No use in worrying anymore, you’re already dead.”

A man appeared to my left; he rode on a crocodile with a purpose. He wore a long flowing cape, big enough to be a tent; it was black on the outside, and when the man moved closer, I could see the inside was lined with red and he wore black, shiny robes underneath. “Hello Petior,” the man said. He didn’t appear to be threatening, rather carried himself with a distinguished aura about him. He was older, with a wrinkled visage and was accompanied by a hawk.

I quizzically at the man, then squeezed out a “…hi?”

“How was the ride, son?” He looked to be conjuring up some sort of spell with simply his eyes.

“It’s been alright, at times a little rough,” I said hesitantly. The man now waved his fingers in a triangular fashion as they began to glow red. Instantly they were teleported to a dark location, the kind of place where nightmares are born. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a massive desk sat by a window overlooking a large fire. I looked around and said, “Why am I here?”

“You did alright.” The man swung his cape around and hung it on top of a rack. “Lived a little dark but that’s alright.” He sat down behind the large desk and motioned for me to sit across from him. He folded his hands together underneath his chin and said, “We made the dark-side and the right side is to have no fear.” A piece of paper appeared in front of me, it looked to be some sort of contract. Reading it over, I found that if I provided souls for this man via dark magic, he would let me live again. The man loomed overtop of me as he repeated, “No fear.” I signed my name.

My whole life flashed in front of me. I saw everything that I was, and what I had done. He even let me look back on some good times for a little fun. Then I heard “Damn boy you done good. Did every little thing that you could. Damn good.”

I spun through a different portal than the one I came from. As I fell aimlessly, my head began to throb, as if someone was shoving a brick inside of it. From the distance I heard, “When you hear the call, bury them all. Destroy all or nothing.” When the headache subsided, I felt strangely different. I felt like I could be more powerful than the mages I met walking around Stormwind. I had controlled the spin in my free fall, and as I contemplated my newfound power, four demons walked up to me and bowed subserviently.

The sky opened up and the clouds parted clear, I was back in the Wetlands. My hair felt longer, probably from waiting so long in that line. Other than that, I felt…alive again. There wasn’t any doubt to why I was here. I knew I’d done a good job, the best job that I could do. Thinking to myself, “So now it’s time to move on, to get on, to get back to the question of why I am here; what I have learned.”

Off in the distance I saw the same Orcs that had captured me wandering with firewood in their hands. My eyes grew completely black as I waved my hands, which started to glow a very dark purple. One of the Orcs saw me and appeared surprised, as though he recognized me. I cast my spell on him, which enveloped his whole body, covering it in the same dark purple aura. Then he dropped; didn’t twitch postmortem. His friends saw what happened and picked up their weapons. I conjured another spell and rained down fire from the sky, burning every charging Orc alive in mere seconds.

My eyes normalized and the remnants of the spells tingled my fingers. I sifted through my memory bank of spells and conjured up a demonic horse. Riding back south, towards Ironforge, an evil grin grew on my face.

“No fear”

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