Diablo 2: The Last Act and Curtain Close
Set during the Act V Siege of Harrogath, a wayward Druid inspires heroes and townsfolk alike to resist and overcome the overwhelming odds forced upon them by Baal the Lord of Destruction and his minions. It is a tale of raw warrior courage, untamed passions, and unpredictable alliances...
Allow me to welcome you to the Prelude to The Last Act and Curtain Close, an unintentional epic from Diablo 2: Lord of Destruction.
Disclaimer: The name Aldur is borrowed, obviously, from the same-named set of armor from LoD. But he, unlike the other set names, has no history, no identity explaining who he is or why he has a set named after him. Here's a look at that. Diablo 2 nor Lord of Destruction are not mine, nor are any recognizable names or entities. Only the story itself is mine, and I'm making no money from it. Again, just a hobby.
Night always brought an uneasily solace.
The fierce siege engines and mobs of Baal's terrible minions seemed to cease but briefly, giving the people of Harrogath the feeling of sitting in a trench while waiting for the enemy to overtake them at any moment. Warrior and adventurer alike, whether local or foreigner, usually spent a great deal of their evening sharpening weapons, preparing incantations, or praying to whichever deity held command over their fate or destiny.
The town itself was rugged, little more than a barbarian village built within fortified walls and battlements, the only true protection between the townspeople and the demons of Hell outside their gates. The few local men who had survived the drawn-out onslaught had been debrief by Qual-Khek earlier in the eve; they now slept the night away with what remained of their families, dreading the day to come as always.
Odd as it seemed, the entire town had a calm kind of resignation to their fates. They neither dreaded death nor were prepared for it to come easy. It seemed the Barbarian way to acknowledge that fate would come for you when it did, and the only thing a man could do was stand his ground until that time.
Not all of the denizens of Harrogath were the children of Bul-Kathos, the barbarian peoples of Mount Arreat. Among them were warrior women, the Amazons with their bows and spears, and stealthy assassins in their dark garb with razor-sharp hand-blades.
Also present were the dealers of the dead, Necromancers, studying tomes to reinforce their knowledge of controlling the dead, Paladins of Zakarum sending their prayers to the High Heavens, and yet a sorceress or two still remained, though their casualty rate had been highest.
But, like the black sheep of the herd, one single Druid had claimed a simple, spartan tent near the great metal gate to the city. His brethren had not yet arrived. He knew not why. Dressed in leather trousers of an oiled auburn, but stained in both blood and other filth, and a snug-fitting off-white tunic that was belted at his waist, the Druid kept court with a single midnight raven and a great grizzly he had affectionately named Maeniel.
It was late of hour, and the beasts with which he kept company similarly knew that the morrow would bring with it challenges unlike any they could have prepared for. At Túr Dúlra he had spent his childhood and much of his younger adult years studying, learning to hone his abilities and strengthen his ties with the natural environment around him. Aldur, he was called among his people, had shown much promise with the charming of and friendship among the beasts of Sanctuary, but little promise with assuming their forms, and only the most slight command over the elements.
Had it not been for his command over the summoning of companions, Aldur would have likely been banished, for the Druids of Scosglen prepared for what they called the 'Uileloscadh Mór,' the very battle that had come to Harrogath. It had been with a heavy heart that Aldur had left revered Glór-an-Fháidha so many years ago, the magnificent oak that was the foundation of the Druids' way of life, to forge his own destiny or fall beneath fate's harsh embrace,
The grizzly rumbled, a booming sound that carried over the harsh mountain winds. Aldur glanced at his beast-friend and ruffled the fur on the bear's head. It's large eyes closed and lips curled in approximation of a smile. An uneasy silence had settled over the town; lo, Aldur could not even hear the drunken merriment coming from the nearby tavern.
"To sleep then," he whispered, unfastening the leather braid that held his gingered hair back. Aldur laid himself aside Maeniel, covering himself in a leather and fur mantle. The temperate weather of the mountains demanded constant vigilance to keep oneself warm – but Aldur found that keep a traveling companion that was a mighty bear... well, that also helped keep a man warm at night.
Thank you for reading, please review! Chapter I will be released and uploaded within the week.