He walks among us. Three Prime Evils? No.. not three. Four. For who could
spawn the other three, but a mother?
-Last Excerpt from the Journal of Deckard Cain, Last Descendant of the Horadrim
Prologue
Tyrael reached for the goblet and pretended to sip. It was a human gesture, something he'd picked up from one of his many encounters with them, protecting the mortal fools from destroying heaven with their greed and evil ways. Still, it was very sophisticated and seemed to put guests on their toes. Tyrael really didn't need it to calm him. He was the Archangel responsible for the care of mortals. This mere meeting was simple compared to battling the Prime Evils of Hell. Loki looked across the table. This angel was covered in dark tendrils, high horns like a rams and a face always hidden in a long black hooded cape. He carried a large scythe in one strong beefy hand; however it was hidden by the brown, dirty, tattered robe that accompanied the cape. In his other arm is a large book. It is, very simply, the Book of the Dead. Or that is what Tyrael has been told. Loki spoke first, "You recently sent three demons to Hell before their time. This was a breach of code and I have every right to report you to Him." Tyrael responded warmly, "Then do so, Loki. Nothing's stopping you. I prevented the legions of Hell from laying siege to Heaven. I doubt He will back you up." Loki immediately responded, which surprised Tyrael a bit, "I realize that fully. Do not take me for a fool, Tyrael. So, I have taken matters into my own hands. Or rather, I took matters into my own hands." Tyrael stood, smashing the throne he was sitting in back several feet, "WHAT?" Loki guffawed, "Sit, Tyrael. I failed. When I went to retrieve them from Hell, I could find no sign of them." Tyrael sat slowly, taking this information, "But they cannot simply cease to exist. We can only diminish their powers. Dash their hopes. Nothing more. Only places can stop to exist, and only then can souls vanish, with that place they inhabit." He spoke slowly, softly, as if he was searching the very depths of his mind for knowledge he could not locate. Loki chuckled, "That is true. So, that means they never left the mortal plain. Much like Diablo never did when he started this whole fulfilling of prophecy." Tyrael stayed silent for a moment, and then he spoke in rapid, uncharacteristic bursts, "So that means that these demonic beings have taken new forms? New hosts?" Loki sighed, "You must know by now, that as long as evil exists in human hearts, the demons will continue to use them as hosts!" Tyrael grabbed Loki by the throat and pulled him forward, "Who? Who have they taken Loki? You must destroy them!" Loki growled and flung Tyrael off him, sending the archangel into the hard rock wall opposite him, "I will do nothing of the sort! The prophecy is still in full swing! I will let it continue because I do not meddle in mortal affairs. Those weaklings make me sick. Too stupid to realize their own true potential." He sighs, then chuckles, "No, Tyrael. I only came to torment you more. It seems that all that last business was a joke, a trick meant to take the focus away from the true danger. Though I admit, it was hinted at enough!" Tyrael stood quickly and drew his sword, dropping into a defensive stance, "So, then, Loki, you are an enemy now, sympathizing with Hell." Loki, suddenly seemed to grow very serious as he pointed his scythe at Tyrael, "You, Tyrael, deserve to be a mortal, you are just as weak as they are." It was then, they rushed at each other, swinging weapons like desperate madmen.
-Last Excerpt from the Journal of Deckard Cain, Last Descendant of the Horadrim
Prologue
Tyrael reached for the goblet and pretended to sip. It was a human gesture, something he'd picked up from one of his many encounters with them, protecting the mortal fools from destroying heaven with their greed and evil ways. Still, it was very sophisticated and seemed to put guests on their toes. Tyrael really didn't need it to calm him. He was the Archangel responsible for the care of mortals. This mere meeting was simple compared to battling the Prime Evils of Hell. Loki looked across the table. This angel was covered in dark tendrils, high horns like a rams and a face always hidden in a long black hooded cape. He carried a large scythe in one strong beefy hand; however it was hidden by the brown, dirty, tattered robe that accompanied the cape. In his other arm is a large book. It is, very simply, the Book of the Dead. Or that is what Tyrael has been told. Loki spoke first, "You recently sent three demons to Hell before their time. This was a breach of code and I have every right to report you to Him." Tyrael responded warmly, "Then do so, Loki. Nothing's stopping you. I prevented the legions of Hell from laying siege to Heaven. I doubt He will back you up." Loki immediately responded, which surprised Tyrael a bit, "I realize that fully. Do not take me for a fool, Tyrael. So, I have taken matters into my own hands. Or rather, I took matters into my own hands." Tyrael stood, smashing the throne he was sitting in back several feet, "WHAT?" Loki guffawed, "Sit, Tyrael. I failed. When I went to retrieve them from Hell, I could find no sign of them." Tyrael sat slowly, taking this information, "But they cannot simply cease to exist. We can only diminish their powers. Dash their hopes. Nothing more. Only places can stop to exist, and only then can souls vanish, with that place they inhabit." He spoke slowly, softly, as if he was searching the very depths of his mind for knowledge he could not locate. Loki chuckled, "That is true. So, that means they never left the mortal plain. Much like Diablo never did when he started this whole fulfilling of prophecy." Tyrael stayed silent for a moment, and then he spoke in rapid, uncharacteristic bursts, "So that means that these demonic beings have taken new forms? New hosts?" Loki sighed, "You must know by now, that as long as evil exists in human hearts, the demons will continue to use them as hosts!" Tyrael grabbed Loki by the throat and pulled him forward, "Who? Who have they taken Loki? You must destroy them!" Loki growled and flung Tyrael off him, sending the archangel into the hard rock wall opposite him, "I will do nothing of the sort! The prophecy is still in full swing! I will let it continue because I do not meddle in mortal affairs. Those weaklings make me sick. Too stupid to realize their own true potential." He sighs, then chuckles, "No, Tyrael. I only came to torment you more. It seems that all that last business was a joke, a trick meant to take the focus away from the true danger. Though I admit, it was hinted at enough!" Tyrael stood quickly and drew his sword, dropping into a defensive stance, "So, then, Loki, you are an enemy now, sympathizing with Hell." Loki, suddenly seemed to grow very serious as he pointed his scythe at Tyrael, "You, Tyrael, deserve to be a mortal, you are just as weak as they are." It was then, they rushed at each other, swinging weapons like desperate madmen.