It was such a little thing, a small box.
A small box that had given a necromancer the power to keep the loose confederation of mages on edge for the better part of a year.
A small box that was the only thing protecting them from utter chaos. They had expected it to be a bit more... flashy... given the nature of the warlock that it was taken from. Some how, the late (but not lamented) necromancer had successfully bound an ancient spirit to do his bidding. Much like a jinn of Eastern folklore, the spirit had no choice but to carry on the commands of the one who possessed the box.
The spirit had made it abundantly clear that when freed, he would not be returning to the plane that he had been summoned from.
It was half a desire for revenge upon the world that was the home of the puny creature that had dared imprison him. But in this new realm, provided that no one was trying to bind him, he was unchallenged. It was a new world to explore, and a new place to play.
It was frustrating to still be bound, but it was better than before. At least these creatures weren't trying to command him.
He was sure that he could work out a way to free himself, given enough time.
