"It wasn't a misspelling, it was a tribute to King-Lewis."
- DivvyO
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| The Quest: Chapter 1- A Diablo II Fiction | | | Author: | | | IP: | slip-32-XXXX | | Date: | 07/31/00 10:07 | | Game Type: | Warcraft 2 | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 2, Max: 9, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for Frozen~SCV AKA ScreamStalker: 7.0000 |   |
Welcome back everyone. I know that most of you who bothered to click the link to this report have probably read my other works as well, but I assure you, this is something different. When I normally compose a fictional story, I start with a basic outline in my head. I don’t record the names and personalities of my characters, I don’t write down the setting for my tale, and I certainly never plan the plot out ahead of time. I just start writing, and tell the tale as I go along. But because Diablo II is set in a medieval time frame, and this period happens to be my all time favorite background for telling stories, I decided to try a different tactic. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks again to Dialtone_ and Spuzz for helping me out with my html.
Chapter 1 : The Quest
Lut Gholein was a dying town. In the past the desert city had thrived on its trading economy. The people living there had been proud of their city and loyal to their righteous king, but all that had changed when the Dark Wanderer arrived. In his wake came demons, hundreds of them, all hell bent on causing as much suffering and pain as they possibly could. Before long, all of the town’s outlying colonies were forced to retreat to their mother town, to take up residence behind its still safe walls. The people were terror stricken, and had begun to panic. Would they never free themselves from their enemies? Dozens had tried. Both royal army and personal militias had been dispatched to clear out the demons…none had ever been heard from again.
It wasn’t for several months until someone finally broke through from the East. Apparently, two strangers from distant lands had arrived in the camp of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye and performed wonders. It was said the duo had rid the encampment of all forms of demons and spirits, and had even destroyed the fallen Rogue Andarial, who had been the cause of most of the trouble. The two had then ventured to Lut Gholein, having heard of its predicament, and were determined to help the dying city. They had arrived only one day earlier, their caravan full of those who preached their heroism and bravery to the needing citizens of the desert gem.
Rone had been there for their arrival. He had actually entered Lut Gholein several weeks ago, and would have been long gone except for the fact that the cargo ship he was traveling aboard had been detained by the King in case of an emergency. Rone didn’t mind, his prolonged stay gave him plenty of time to do what it was he had been sent to do. Preach the visions of Akarat. Unfortunately for Rone, the people were not very welcome to new ideas and religions during this time, and were mostly concentrating on the horrors that awaited them just outside the city gates. Knowing full well why he wasn’t having much success, Rone had strapped on his equipment and set out to banish the evil plaguing the city.
He had very nearly lost his life in the process. The horrors and evils that dwelled among the endless sands were more then a match for Rone and his holy prowess. He had fought long and hard, but in the end the swarm had been too much and had sent Rone retreating to the city, racked by disease and depression. He had spent the next two weeks in his rented bed, fighting against the sickness that threatened to overwhelm and consume him. Eventually he succeeded. Now he was up and about again, hungry to once again journey out into the darkness and save these dying people. Rone hoped the coming of the adventurers would provide him that opportunity.
As soon as the caravan was safely inside the city walls, the two heroes were swiftly ushered out of their concealment and hurried through the marketplace by the King. Hundreds of people followed, all wanting their questions answered. Would they be saved? Could the two help their town? Would all trading routes eventually be reopened? Rone was curious as well, be kept his head low as he wandered amidst the restless mob. Eventually, everything came to an all out standstill. A gridlock in which no one could seem to make any progress in any direction. Rone started forcing his way forward, squeezing between humans and animals, trying to reach the front of the crowd. It was useless, no one was budging and people were getting agitated with Rone’s persistence, they all wanted to be at the front too.
Suddenly, the crowd began to shift, not forward, but to the side. It was gradual at first, but rapidly escalated into a full blown migration. Something was passing through the mob, and people did not want to stand in its way. As Rone was being forced backward, he caught sight of what was causing the disruption. A man with flowing white hair strode down the dusty road. His armor a patchwork of leather, metal, and bone. A black cloak hung withdrawn around his neck, and stretched all the way down to his ankles. He was quite a sight and Rone had never seen anyone like him before, but what followed him was even more unusual.
Two skeletons trailed the man. Their opaque bones gleaming dully in the dying light of the setting sun. One of them was heavily armored, a giant mace and a hefty shield strapped across its skinless back. The other seemed to control some sort of magic, for encircling both its hands were spinning orbs of white and blue. The crowd was aghast, could this man be a messenger from the demons, and his followers bodyguards? No one approached the strange warrior, or questioned his presence, they simply let him pass. But Rone knew what this man was. He had heard stories about this type of people and the dark art that they practiced. Though he did not approve of the magic the white haired man wielded, he had opened an opportunity for the gracious Paladin.
Swiftly, Rone slipped between the few bystanders blocking his passage and fell in step behind the trailing skeleton. He was careful not to touch either of the bone creatures, and though he got dozens of shocked expressions from the onlookers, neither the Necromancer nor his minions shot him a glance. With everyone scrambling to clear the way for the dark priest, the small party soon reached the front of the mob and Rone realized why everyone had stopped moving.
A small dais had been hastily constructed in the major trading center, probably a foresight by the King for what was to transpire here. On the platform stood three people. The most noticeable was a man of gigantic size and structure. Hardened leather armor covered most of the giant’s torso, but it was not enough the hide the bulking muscles that rippled just underneath. One massive hand clutched a monstrous axe, the other sharpened the double sided blade with piece of sculpted rock. The blocky face that was attached to the monstrous body was bald and held no expression.
The second person was a woman of a much smaller frame, though no less fit. Her striking blond hair was the feature that Rone caught first, followed by the gentle glow of her sky blue eyes. Like her massive companion, she too was armored in toughened leather, though it was much tighter to her lithe frame and stained a deep red. Her hands were always busy, whether it was retying her locks in a pony tail or sharpening the small dagger sheathed at her waist, she always seemed to be moving. Once she leaned over to whisper something in the third person’s ear, and Rone caught a glimpse of a polished ash bow strapped across her back.
After he had finished sizing up the two warriors, Rone turned his attention to the third person. It was an old man, his weather skin tanned and mostly concealed by the oversized gray cloak that he wore. As it was, he was speaking as loudly as he could to the people of Lut Gholein, and Rone noticed immediately that he had a thick accent. He began to listen to what the old man was preaching.
"Citizens of Lut Gholein," the man was saying. "I speak to you today to ask of your assistance to save your hometown! My companions and I have come from the East, where evil was destroyed and wrongs were righted by the two that stand behind me! All of us have heard of the horrors that plague your wondrous city and I ask now for assistance in ridding the deserts of the evil that consumes them! I know for a fact that my travel mates are brave, righteous, and heroic, for they saved my from certain death at the hands of hell’s advocates! Who will help them on their quest to save Lut Gholein!"
His last statement caused a tremor of shouts and encouragement from the inspired citizens, and for a moment Rone though the entire dais was going to give way. But as silent as the shouts started, they ended, and were replaced by gasps and murmurs of distrust. The Necromancer that Rone had been following was climbing the few platform steps, his skeletons in tow. He came directly to where the old man was standing and began a speech of his own, his voice deep and raspy.
"I see the fear in your eyes of my presence. But I assure you, I mean no harm to any of you loyal citizens, only to those who are evil and corrupt. My name is Sheen, and I have journeyed forth from my homeland to assist you on your quest." He gestured toward the two warriors standing behind him. Rone noticed that both the man and the woman seemed relaxed and unworried by Sheen’s pledge, and he figured they must have dealt with his type before. The dark priest continued. "Do not continue to fear and distrust those who are different from yourself people of Lut Gholein. I will do all that I can to see that you are free from the terrors that haunt you." Sheen stepped back to stand beside the two warriors.
A small cheer rose up from the crowd upon hearing of the Necromancer’s promise to help their city, but Rone figured most of the watchers were still skeptical about the true motives of the raiser of the dead. But he could not dwell on it much longer, as the robed speaker began anew. This time, he praised Sheen and his assistance, but again began asking for more help. "The evil in the desert is immense, and it will take more then three to bring an end to it." He said. Rone knew his time had come. This was what he had been waiting for, his opportunity to fulfill that which he had promised he would do. Silently, he slipped between the crowd and climbed the stairs of the dais. Rone stepped beside the speaker as Sheen had done, but uttered no words. He instead slipped free his broadsword from his back, pointed the point to the earth, and dropped to one knee. The Paladin pledge of loyalty.
The crowd went nuts. For the first time in months there was a glimmer of hope that perhaps they would be free of the bounds that tied them down. Rone rose, preached his assistance in a brief sentence, and turned to stand beside the Necromancer. He caught no hint of what the giant or Sheen was thinking about their fourth party member, but the female shot him a glowing smile.
Again the old man resumed, but instead of returning to his plea for help, he instead started in on how it was that the party would go about ridding Lut Gholein of the evil that sickened it. He had barely said two sentences when a column of fire rose up from the wood on the dais. Rone was closest to the pillar and shrank away but was quick to realize that the fire was not burning the wood or even emitting heat. Then as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. And in its place stood a striking Sorceress. Her black hair fell down to below her back and was as dark as the night itself. Darkened cloth was wrapped tightly about her body, and even though she carried no weapons, Rone instantly sensed this woman contained magical power that dwarfed his own, and possibly even Sheen’s.
For a second, everyone gaped at the mystical appearance they had just witnessed, including the speaker. But the silence was broken by the soft melodious voice that took form from the gorgeous girl. "Visala, at your service," she said. And stepped back beside Rone, snapping him a wink as she took her place at his side.
The speaker, though thoroughly flustered, began anew. "As I was saying. The key to Lut Gholein’s freedom lies it its history. Long ago Horadric Mages created a weapon of such power that only the most righteous could wield it. It was said this weapon was immediately hidden from all but those who had created it, stashed in such a place that it was hoped it would never be found. Unfortunately, the talisman was uncovered by a corrupt warlock who sought to use the staff for his own evil purposes. He was defeated by the Mages before he found a way to unlock the power of the staff. The Mages, scared that this might reoccur when none of them were left to protect against it, dissected the staff into three parts, and hid them in the deserts of Aranoch. With the Horadric scroll that was recovered just weeks ago, I have determined where the three pieces are to be found."
As Rone listened he found himself growing more and more involved. There has to be a catch he muttered, for no ancient mage would leave the most powerful weapon created unguarded, even if it was broken into three parts. The speaker’s following statement ratified that.
"Unfortunately, all three sections are guarded by fierce sentries, who have spent their entire lives protecting their charges. I believe that some of these protectors may have even become overwhelmed by that dark magic that consumes the desert, and may attack anything they see as a threat, regardless of the intruder’s true motives. But the journey must be made if Lut Gholein is to be saved. And it begins tomorrow!"
So ends chapter one. I hope you all enjoyed this piece. I am hoping to get Chapter 2 released before school starts….1 week from today. But after that, no guarantees when the following pieces will be out. You know I love comments on what you thought. Hope you liked the colored background! Oh, by the way, I know this doesn’t follow the Diablo II storyboard perfectly, but I tried to make it fit somehow.
Frozen~SCV AKA ScreamStalker
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