Horns and Hooves
"Wings, horns, hooves...what am I saying, is this Diablo?"
His stroll through Ashenvale Forest having come to an abrupt stop, Illidan Stormrage pondered what the greater mystery was. Why he was indeed developing horns, hooves and wings, or what in the name of magic was "Diablo?" It was a hard choice and while the first mystery had an explanation and the second didn't, he'd rather swap the two any day.
The Skull of Gul'dan...thought the Betrayer bitterly, reflecting on Kil'jaeden's words of using the power of his erstwhile disciple. He warned me about this...
Then again, if the twin of Malfurion Stormrage wanted to avoid falling into the "tall, dark and ugly" meme, he would have avoided the remains of the orc warlock altogether. He'd learnt long ago that power came at a price, how short sighted fools would punish those who wielded it for no reason other than their foolish superstitions. Even after ten millennia, this hadn't changed, with Furion being as short sighted as ever, punishing him for defeating the Dreadlord Tychondrius. But now, his feet becoming like those of a satyr and sprouting wings and horns, Illidan wondered if his brother might have had a point.
And it took a demon to make me realize this...thought the night elf sadly. What would Tyrande say if she saw me now?
Catching some rain on a tongue that thankfully wasn't thought yet, Illidan realized that he didn't know. However, he was willing to bet that while she would indeed comment on the change in his physical appearance, "Diablo" wouldn't be among those comments. So why would he, the insider of the change, mention it?
Diablo...mused the demon hunter. What on Kalimdor is-...
"Not what, you hybrid. Who."
"What?!" Illidan exclaimed, spinning around to the source of the voice. "Fandu-dath belore?" (Who goes there?)
"The one that you seek, night elf..."
The death knight that Illidan had faced months ago didn't strike him as being a stereotype for his race. However, given the demeanour of this new arrival, perhaps arrogance did run in the Outlanders. Physical appearances were something else however. While the death knight had stood tall and proud, this dark robed man was a frail specimen, his withering flesh hidden by his attire. Yet for one who saw the truth, courtesy of the Dark Titan himself and the burning fire he had applied to his eyes, Illidan was puzzled. His abilities easily allowed him to identify and separate mortals and demons, but this man, this...dark wanderer, somehow blurred the lines of both.
"Who are you?" asked the night elf cautiously, reflecting that "what are you?" might have been the better question. "How did you find me?"
"I am a wanderer," answered the cripple softly, his voice like a dying wind. "You are not one of those I seek, however demonic you may have become. Nonetheless, you called me, and I answered."
"And you're at my beck and call?"
"Unlike the naga you seek, I'm afraid not."
Naga...it was a plan that the brother Stormrage had barely had time to conceive, realizing that his estranged brethren would never aid him in destroying the Lich King, however worthwhile such a goal was. But how could this...wanderer know of such a thing? Magical insight perhaps? Certainly the dark glow emanating from his forehead leant credence to the theory.
"You said that I called you..." said Illidan slowly. "What did you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said," the wanderer chuckled. "You called for Diablo. And so I came."
The Betrayer snorted. "You, Diablo? I mentioned horns and hooves, little human, not-..."
"I am no mere Man!" the wanderer bellowed, a glow in his eyes matching that of whatever was shining from his forehead. "Do not mistake this shell of a form for my grandeur! And even when I show you the truth, no not dare that you can match the Lord of Terror!"
Illidan started laughing...then stopped. The transformation he was witnessing demanded no less.
Then again, it wasn't really a transformation he was watching, but rather an overlay of images. But what he saw...horns, hooves, even scales...The human before him was indeed nothing but a shell and the monster before him, unlike any demon he'd ever seen...well, it was horrible. And the fear, the terror...the Betrayer had never felt anything like it before.
By Elune...the demon hunter mused. What is he?
"I, as I said, am Diablo, Lord of Terror and youngest of the Prime Evils," answered the wanderer, having now returned to being a shell of a man. And in this world, I can walk freely. However, as tempting as that is, I am afraid I must return to Sanctuary. Marius dreams, and must have his patron watch over him. Farewell, Illidan Stormrage."
With the Dark Wanderer fading from view, the Betrayer certainly wasn't disappointed to see him go. But still he wondered. Still he pondered. Still he worried. Horns, hooves, more demonic traits...was this what he was to become?
Somehow Illidan Stormrage didn't want to know the answer to that question.
A/N
As you can probably guess, this fic was 'inspired' by one of Illidan's gag quotes in The Frozen Throne. Anyway, while I'd personally say there's little resemblance between the Betrayer and the Lord of Terror, that didn't stop me from taking the opportunity to write a crossover.