Velocinyx

Imagine the most powerful warlock you can. He is unbeatable in combat and in warfare and in wit. Give him glowing-amber snake eyes and a voice that frightens animals. Give him a suit of armor made of dark, exotic materials that can bend and adapt when he shape-shifts and teleports. Give him a helmet that's constantly smoking, steaming, fogging, burning, or on fire. Give him gauntlets that raise the dead and turn into different weapons with hand signs.
Now imagine him in his lair, though never sleeping, just laying around. He's daydreaming, thinking of his vast armies, contemplating life.
Look deep. He's wishing he could be the perfect leader. He hopes he will remain in power.
Look deeper. He wants to be respected as well. He wants to admired.
Look even deeper. He was so lonely as a child. Raised in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where did his life go so wrong? Why is he still lonely?
Look as far as you can. Why do I have to be a monster? Do I have to be a monster? Can I be more? Who do I really want to be?
Now conjure up an image, an impetuous hero of virtue.
That's me.
Or am I the warlock?