The warloc

You were always different, a little strange.

You were that kid who had the imaginary friend till he was a little too old. You always had a knack for certain things too.

You don't know it but an ancient power runs through your veins. Your naturally adept at magic and it allows you to do certain things. You seem to make harvests bigger and have no problem getting people to do what you want, well the dumber men and women of the sorrounding valley anyway.

What will you do with this gift. Use it for personal power, to defend the weak, or waste it playing parlour tricks in pubs for whores and beer. The choice is yours to make.

You are currently at home, with your mother and sister. You live in a small hamlet, much like the rest of society and work the land. Well most work the land you just sorta push the plough and results happen.

On this particular day you start to feel uneasy, restless even.

Why on earth could this be?