Disclaimer: Diablo 2 belongs to people who are not me.
"Ignis Aduro!"
They were everywhere. Smallish, crazed rodent demons, razor sharp spines erect upon their grey-green backs, advancing closer and closer with every passing moment.
Elyoric swore, stepping back as he mumbled another firestorm spell. The flames snaked along the ground, hitting the quill rats dead on which writhed in agony as the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Their horrible screeching died down soon enough, and the druid disgustedly picked up the small bits of gold from among the blackend carcasses of the creatures.
Seeing as it was getting dark, he proceeded to remove a teleportation scroll from his inventory. Breaking the enchanted blue and gold seal upon it, he watched with mild interest as the magic bound in the wax was released, manifesting itself in the form of a swirling blue portal. Stepping through the vortex, he found himself back at the rogue's encampment once more.
The bonfire had been lit, and the sight of the roaring flame lifted his spirits somewhat. He stood by it contentedly for a while, enjoying the warmth of it, which was a pleasant change from the chilly winds that constantly whipped through the camp. Warriv sat at his usual spot, the likeable man giving him a small wave, which he happily returned. Kashya only glared at him before moving away towards the tents.
She was a frosty one, that.
He still remembered how she had practically snarled at him the first time he had walked into camp a few days ago, and although the other rogues were still chilly towards him, none yet matched the iciness of their captain. Still, he didn't really blame her. The decision to trust him was entirely up to her, and frankly he didn't particularly care at the moment. The rogues were a proud people, he knew that much, and it was a pride that would require some work to get past.
Running a hand through his dark hair, he wearily made his way towards his tent, pulling the quilted armour off himself as he walked, the sweat-soaked material feeling heavy in his hands. His sword swung lazily at his hip.
Entering his tent, the druid stripped off most of his armour and underpadding, leaving only his white undershirt and his bloodied trousers from where a Fallen had managed to land a lucky strike. Thankfully, the wound had been nothing that a minor health potion couldn't fix, and he had been right as rain in a matter of minutes.
Still, in the time it had taken for the potion to work, his leg had bled profusely, soaking the material of his pants. He grumbled a little at the unpleasant thought of the laundry he would have to do the next day. Grabbing a towel from his backpack, along with a washcloth and change of clothes he knew to be reasonably clean, he exited the little canvas shelter, and made his way towards the banks of the river Aidas.
Gheed leered a little at him as he passed, and Elyoric had to surpress a small shudder at the gesture. He had heard whispers, mostly from Charsi, about the merchant's fondness of supple young boys, though he didn't really pay them any mind. Being a student of Nature, he had been taught from a young age to accept the many forms of her children, and to be honest he doubted that the rotund man had any access to 'supple young boys' in a camp full of highly trained Rogues.
For a moment, he had a ludicrous vision of the portly merchant attempting to seduce Kashya, and the absurdity of the whole scene made him smirk to himself.
The captain would most probably rip off his manhood and force-feed it to him if he even so much as suggested anything even remotely connected to intercourse between them.
Reaching a quiet part of the river, far enough from the camp to give him some measure of privacy yet near enough to hear if any commotion occurred. Elyoric carefully removed his boots, placing them on the grass next to a rock where he kept his towel and change of clothes. Then, he peeled away the last layers of cloth from his body, and slid into the water. It was cold, invigoratingly so, and he joyfully ducked his head into the river.
He always loved being in water. It was like moving through the finest silk imaginable, the coolness enveloping his limbs in a gentle cocoon that felt oddly cooler with every move he made. He swam around for a little while, enjoying the feel of the water. Then, he began scrubbing at himself with the washcloth, starting with his face and working his way downward. His bath came to an end soon enough, and once he was dressed in a light tunic top and trousers he headed back to the camp. He didn't pass Gheed on his way back, and he felt a whole lot better once he had put away the clothes in his tent.
He then made his way towards the mess tent, which was mostly empty save for a few rogues. He took the bowl of stew and piece of bread that was offered to him, thanking the Sister on duty and receiving a stony stare in return. Even if he was far removed from Scosglen, his manners never left him. He sighed, and silently began eating his meal. It was during this time that Kashya suddenly walked up behind him, a scowl already forming on her features as she impatiently cleared her throat.
"Akara wants to talk to you. Now."
It wasn't a request. Her tone clearly implied that failure to respond would end in many unpleasant things for him, most of which would include hot metal. He got to his feet, hastily finishing his dinner.
"Right. Thank you, captain."
She spun around on her heel, and left wordlessly, still scowling. He smiled at her retreating back, wondering at the many ways that Nature helped her children cope with the terrible evil that had plagued the lands of Entsteig and beyond. She was hurting. The constant threat of monsters and other unholy creatures, the loss of her sisters to the Prime Evils, the fall of the monastery in the Tamoe highlands to the forces of hell all weighed heavily upon her. He said a small prayer to the spirit of the wood as he walked towards Akara's clearing, seeking peace for the angry woman. The camp elder stood facing away from him, her purple cloak drawn around her thin shoulders in an effort to keep the biting chill of the wind away. Just as he drew nearer, she turned, her grey eyes searching his own icy blue morosely. She looked at him for a moment longer, then began to speak.
" Forgive me, but I fear that I must beg you your help. You see, there is a place of great evil in the wilderness, a place where many a Rogue has been slain. Kashya's scouts report that a cave nearby is filled with many shadowy creatures from beyond the grave, and I fear they may be massing for an attack against the camp. Please, we have already lost enough of our sisters to the evil which has corrupted our land. I beseech you, find this dark labyrinth and destroy these fouls beasts."
He said nothing for a minute, the silence thickening between them. Then, his lips parted as he spoke: "I will help you."
The High Priestess gratefully took his hand in hers, squeezing them warmly. Then, she smiled at him, before entering her tent, signifying that the conversation was over. Elyoric decided that sleep sounded like a very good idea, and so made his way back to his tent, crawling onto his bed where he was soon fast asleep.
Morning came soon enough, and after another bath, where he also took the oppurtunity to do his laundry, Elyoric was soon ready to leave for the Den of Evil. Tightening the straps of his bracers, the druid then set out from the camp, entering the Blood Moor. He encountered a few monsters along the way, though nothing that his steel and magic couldn't dispose of without too much trouble.
Soon enough, he found himself standing outside the Den of Evil, having located the place without too much difficulty. The dark pit reeked of death, the unnatural aura of the undead and corrupted emanating from the place as stink would off a rotting carcass. Steeling his resolve and unsheathing his sword, the druid entered the fetid cavern, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the low level of light.
He was alone, as far as he could tell, and he slowly made his way deeper and deeper into the cave. Suddenly, a couple of large figures lumbered towards him.
They were Gargantuan beasts, sadly corrupted by the Prime Evils into beings that no longer heard the gentle voice of Nature. Swinging their massive fists, Elyoric could only dodge the attack as he rolled out from under the giants. His blade cut into the forearm of the one closest to him, and the creature roared in pain as its companion raised its arms for another bone-crushing blow.
Thankfully, the creature's ponderous bulk made it hard to maneuver in the small space of they were in, and a few wild slashes and another firestorm spell soon dispatched them. Things continued in this manner for a while, him running into a few Fallen here and there, or a zombie wandering the passageways, leaving him with injuries no more serious than a shallow cut upon his left arm, and a few random scratches. Then, as he rounded a corner in the dank pit, he suddenly froze.
Before him was a huge Fallen camp, the large chamber teeming with the imps and their fanatic shamans. Crouching low behind a rock, he quickly decided that he needed some help, and thus whispered a spell that summoned a poisonous vine to his side. The creeper poked tentatively out of the ground at first, like a shy serpent, then began to roll around in the mud as if it had sensed its master's tension.
Elyoric took a deep breath, then jumped out from behing his hiding place, uttering a war cry know only to his people. His sword hacked through the crowds of short red demons, their gurgling cries blending in with the sickening sound of metal squelching through flesh. Fireballs rained from all sides, the enraged shamans hungry for his blood as he ducked and weaved through the throng of frenzied demons, blocking blows with his buckler while slashing madly.
His vine was hard at work too, spreading its virulent poison among the many demons, their angry red skin turning a dull green as the toxin worked its way through their system. Thankfully, the Fallen were weak creatures, owning much of their success as conquerers to the ressurrection spell their mages possesed, and once those had been dealt with the remaining fell soon enough.
The battle had taken its toll on him though. A nasty gash bled angrily down the side of his chest, and he could feel the bruises beginning to form at the side of his head. His arms and back hurt from where the imps had managed to land a few blows, his vine had been cut to pieces, and his armour had been reduced to shreds. He was pretty sure that his left thigh had been burnt by a stay fireball as well. Luckily for him, he had stumbled across some leather armour from one of the shamans he had killed, which he gratefully donned.
Adjusting the leather upon his back, he picked up the spoils of his victory: some gold, a few potions of blue and red and a small, chipped diamond. Then, after downing the contents of one of the crimson bottles, he made his way forward, the tingling sensation of the potion knitting his flesh together making him smile wearily to himself.
He marched onward, warily watching for the slightest hint of trouble. He didn't encounter any creatures for a while, a respite he was grateful for even though it made him edgier and edgier as he walked. Then, he saw it.
The zombie was definately of a different rank than its undead brethren, the horrible greenish-grey colour of its rotting flesh suggesting that it had been quite old. The abomination moaned loudly, alerting it's comrades towards his presence. The small spark of intelligence the creature seemed to possess surprised him a little. A few other zombies ambled towards the thing from around a corner, and they immediately shuffled towards him instead when they caught sight of him, hands outstretched while their heads lolled bonelessly upon their shoulders.
The higher ranking zombie stayed back, clomping towards what appeared to be a large wooden cage behind it. Elyoric had little time to ponder this, as he found himself facing the group of undead cadavers which kept getting closer. Raising his hand, he shouted "Glacia Durui!", causing a jet of freezing wind and ice to erupt from his palm, halting the zombies in their tracks. A few of them toppled over, dead, the attack robbing them of the tiny bit of life that they mindlessly clung to. The remaining soon met the same end as his sword made short work of them.
Then, he stepped forward, and found himself in a large chamber that was empty save for the zombie-leader and the cage. Now that he was close to it, Elyoric could see that the cage was in fact occupied by a cloaked figure, their unconcious form lying on the wooden floor.
They had a hostage?
Gritting his teeth, he ran straight for the walking corpse, which moved surprisingly fast for its kind. Dodging the first strike, the creature lashed out at him, decaying fingernails reeking of foul poisons. Elyoric parried the attack, using his momentum to slash at the zombie's midsection with one quick twist of his body.
His steel connected, and the creature moaned in blind rage as it swiped at him furiously again and again. The druid danced out of the way, his buckler taking the impact of most of the blows. The creature was stronger than it looked, shrugging off the cuts and lacerations all over its body in its single-minded quest to extinguish his life. This continued for a while, him blocking and attacking, the snarling monster madly trying to remove his head from his shoulders.
Soon, Elyoric could tell that he was wearing the creature down, because it was becoming more and more aggressive, its blows slowing in pace yet becoming more desprate with every passing moment. He managed to land a few more cuts on the undead creature, when suddenly the zombie landed a blow of its own.
He was thrown across the cave, slamming into the cage and breaking a couple of the bars as lightning surged through his body. He slid down, landing painfully on his behind. It took him a moment to recover, and in that moment the zombie had begun making its way towards him, the sound of its heavy footsteps echoing menacingly through the empty cave. He was stunned. He tried to do something, anything, but the electricity that had coursed through his veins a moment earlier left his mind strangely blank. Just as the zombie was almost upon him, a voice called out weakly behind him.
"Get…down…Cryka Ceoro!"
He barely managed to duck as the ball of magic flew past his head, hitting the zombie square between its undead eyes. Instantly, the creature froze, its tissue and muscle crackling as they turned into solid ice. Then, just as unexpectedly, the zombie shattered, raining small chunks of frozen cadaver and blood all over the dazed druid. He shook his head, wincing as he did, then turned to thank his rescuer in the now broken cage.
It was a young woman, and she had passed out again.
The druid stood up. Elyoric created another portal, and carefully carrying the mysterious stranger in his arms, stepped through it.
A/N: My first fic for this fandom...Yay!!