Frigid winds wailed outside, the sharp whistling like the shriek of a banshee. Within a tiny glacial cave waited Soros the warlock, along with a select few of his best minions that he had chosen to bring with him on this foray to the icy hell that was Kythnos. For hours the warlock had stood as a statue, almost as if he had frozen even underneath the many layers of thick fur clothing that he wore in place of his usual black robes.

His demons, on the other hand, were restless. The grotesque, horned creatures paced back and forth through the confines of the tiny cave, clearly agitated yet unwilling to speak for fear of triggering their master's wrath. At last, one of them spoke out. "Master," the harsh cadence of its voice cutting through the winds, "if he hasn't returned yet, he won't be coming. With any luck they found and killed him, but what if they captured him? He knows where we are."

From beneath a hooded cloak and behind a thick cloth mask to warm his face, Soros replied, "Patience. My son is not foolish enough to have been discovered."

Silenced, the demon turned to skulk to the back of the cave. Then cried out the one watching the entrance, "I see him!"

A few moments later and the creature arrived, both its wings beating and the light thud of its landing nearly silent. This scout was a demon as well, but of a different sort than those that were in the cave to guard the warlock. Whereas the bodyguards were roughly humanoid, albeit with horns, clawed hands, powerful forms, and teeth far too sharp, this flying demon was more like a gargoyle. Soros remained as still as before, betraying no emotion as the scout approached. "Father," it said, "they approach the pass. Three sleds, so heavy with goods that their reindeer can barely pull them. There is an ice witch guarding the caravan, just as expected."

Soros gave a slight nod. His thoughtful silence was interrupted when the scout continued, "There are also eleven cultists guarding the caravan as well. Four with swords, three wi-"

"They do not matter," he interrupted. Speaking to all of the five demons, "Kill the reindeer before they panic and escape with the sleds. Make sure that the guards do not harass me. The ice witch is mine." 

At last, the warlock moved. The band slowly moved into their positions, as they still had plenty of time. They stood on ledges overlooking a twisting, treacherous path below. The caravan would go around a sharp bend on the path, and before they would even have the chance to look up and see the ambush ahead, it would be too late. The demons would descend on the guards from above, while Soros rained fiery hell with his magic and caught the attention of the ice witch.

After perhaps an hour of waiting, they heard the sleds coming. The plan was set in motion, and quickly came to fruition. The sheer simplicity of the ambush did not fail; it executed exactly as Soros had planned. Binding the ice witch proved more difficult than anticipated, as wresting control over that sort of demon was not something even a warlock as powerful as Soros had much experience with. Still, he had managed to magically enslave the demon in the end, and it had only managed to kill one of his minions in the process.

Still, the warlock was somewhat curious as to what the caravan had been bringing back to the ice witches' grand city beneath the mountains of ice. Malak, the gargoyle demon, used his claws to open the crates in the sleds, one by one. Soros examined their contents; there was bread, pork, gold, jewels, silver. Things no doubt stolen when some cultists raided a farm or two in the kingdom of the Cypriots.

None of it was worth the hassle of taking back to the Ashlands. One, two, three times Soros flicked his wrist. Three massive fireballs flew, one for each sled. The wooden things exploded, fiery rubble raining down. The warlock and his minions quickly chained up the paralyzed ice witch, for Soros was of the cautious sort and he always preferred his captives subdued both magically and physically. Then, they hurried out of the wretched wasteland that was Kythnos, before the ice witches sent a damned army after the ones that waylaid their caravan and abducted one of their sisters.

[hider=Compendium Information:]
Soros: One of the upper-class warlocks that rule the Ashlands. While he owns no tower and rules over no serfs, he nonetheless commands as much respect and fear as any of the others. Undisputed as the the best demonologist, he is capable of summoning powerful demons to do his bidding. He has also managed to create Malak, a twisted half-breed of demon and man, fathered by Soros using no small amount of dark magic. Malak and the other demons that are his minions serve Soros as assassins, spies, and bodyguards. It is these minions of his, combined with his ruthless efficiency, that have earned him the title of Warlock Lord. Soros is the cousin of another powerful warlock, Morvos the Necourge.

Recently Soros went on an mission to Kythnos at the behest of several other warlocks, with the goal of capturing a living ice witch for experimentation.
[/hider]