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Disclaimer: Both Diablos belong to Blizzard Entertainment. Not me.
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The Three, The Five
By Havoc
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Part I
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"I need a good, strong warrior in my travels."
Kashya took a good look at the cloaked figure before her, stomach churning in the fear the woman gave her.
"What kind of warrior," Kashya's harsh voice questioned, trying to discover more and more about this young woman claiming to come from the East.
"A strong one who fears for nothing, not even the demons from hell whose hands cause tortures worse then living death."
Kashya turned away to shiver. She looked at all the recruits before her and studied each in turn. The newest looked eager to run beside this mysterious traveler and take on destiny head on. The veterans recognized the woman's tone and turned away, having seen but a small portion of the lands and the demons within and unwilling to face them once more without a good pay.
Money. Kashya narrowed her eyes in disgust. These mercenaries would do anything for money. Had she had more options, they all would have been kicked out of the camp but she didn't and these women were of the few left of the once enormous town.
Shaking her head in indecision, Kashya turned back to the woman. "I'm sorry, but it will take me at least a week to train these men if you wish them to be useful."
The woman shook her head. "There's no time for that. I will take whichever is the best or at least one showing good potential. The training I will give in my own way."
Kashya stared at her a moment before calling out some name in a sharp tone.
A moment later, a young man-the only male warrior in the camp besides Warriv- wearing heavy ring mail armor and carrying a long sword rushed up. His blonde hair was stuffed under a skullcap and his muscular body strained against tanned skin. His posture spoke of hard experiences but his youthful face was set up in a broad grin. Any experiences he went through were hidden beneath the foolish smile. Other then the two-handed sword, the boy carried no weapon.
"Yes, Kashya?"
"Mekof, do you believe yourself ready to combat the demons of this world?"
Mekof's face lit up even more. "Yes, Kashya, I know I'm ready."
"Really. Surely you have heard that the Diablo, Lord of Terror walks these lands as well as his mistress, Andariel, the demoness who drives the demons to our destruction and who the credit for our current state of near death lies."
He nodded determinedly. "Yes, Kashya. But I know I am ready to take on whatever the demons may through to get my revenge."
The cloaked figure stepped forward softly, reaching out a slender hand to turn his face towards her. His dark brown eyes widened as he saw nothing but her glowing azure eyes. She continued watching him a moment and said in her soft, commanding voice "They killed your family, but they did not touch you during the raid. You feel deep responsibility for their deaths and have taken it upon yourself to avenge them as well as all those killed that day." Her eyes saddened a moment before returning to the mirror-like surface they were before, absorbing everything while giving nothing. "There were many deaths that day and though you were young, you counted and buried each body, recording the people's names and blood lines in the book you call the Book of Price. You plan to slay each demon in this land in the name of those people, all one thousand, threes hundred and fifty-six of the villagers shall have one dead demon to pay the price of their death."
Mekof's wide eyes were watered down with the tears of painful memories and all he could do was nod dumbly and mutter "You speak truth."
The woman snapped her hand back. "How many demons have you killed to the day," her voice questioned accusingly.
Mekof's head hung in shame. "None, my lady."
"And it had been ten years to the day since the attack happened. What have you been doing if this vengeance takes such a place in your life that you place the Book of Price before your heart during the day and beneath your head as you sleep?"
His eyes began to burn with pride. "I place the Book of Price beside my hear so that the dead may be comforted by the heat of my own flesh, that they may feel the pulsing of my own blood and that the beating of my heart will rouse their sprits to protect me through the day. At night, I lay it beside my head so that the wailing spirits cries will never go unheard; that their wise whispers will be absorbed by my living skull and that their warnings will never go unheeded. This I do to honor the dead and to gain wisdom for the living. And I have trained as many hours as there are in the days of silence to overcome my weaknesses so that I may rise and avenge the dead."
She watched him once more then turned to Kashya. "He is far too ignorant of the living hell that has taken over this place. Is there another?"
"Wait one second," Mekof objected, grabbing her hand.
Her eyes narrowed and Mekof's flesh began to sizzle and burn.
His screams of agony echoed through the camp. The smell of burning flesh filled the training grounds and a magical wind blew through the trees. Sisters ran to the fire to see what was the matter and Akara rushed from her own tent to see what demon had violated the grounds. They all saw the figure, cloak whipping in the wind as her eyes glowed bright with power and saw the fallen form of the boy.
"Stop that before you are killed as the demon whose powers you stole," Akara's voice carried through the winds and she stepped forward, wielding her magical staff.
"As you wish," the woman whispered softly and all stopped. "But he shall learn the dangers of challenging those beyond him."
On the ground lay Mekof, gasping for breath and clasping his blackened arm, staring at the spot where his fingers use to be and seeing nothing but a burned stub of melted flesh. His screams continued until Akara rushed to his side, muttering words of healing and pouring healing potions down his throat. The sorceress glared at the cloaked one who stood impassively before her.
"What manner of woman are you, to attack those who have no skill in the Arts?" Akara's voice hissed.
The woman reached up and pulled down her hood, unveiling thick black hair and olive skin outlining slightly slanted azure eyes. Her midnight black hair ways streaked with lines of blue and was decorated in pieces of gold jewelry, thick earrings dangling from her ears. All of the jewelry was imbued with various perfect diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and more. Beside that, a shining crown was molded to fit her head, adding to her majestic appearance. Her perfect complexion boasted of high cheekbones and thin eyebrows as well as long eyelashes and a narrow face. She glared at Akara and withdrew her own staff from beneath the robes of her armor. "My name is Ex'Nihilio. I am following the Dark Wanderer who recently passed through your lands and I shall find him. Whether I help you with your own problems before continuing on my way shall be up to how you answer me."
Akara drew back in shock. Her mouth moved without sound and after a few minutes, when her voice was found, she asked in a shaky voice "You have truly come from the East, then. How do you know of this traveler?"
Ex'Nihilio waved a hand in dismissal. "Before becoming a sorceress, I was of the three who first defeated Diablo in the layers beneath the Monastery of Tristam. But because I wanted to pursue my learning of the Arts and the Sorcerer Randu was to be my teacher, it was the warrior Sturm who held responsibility over the stone containing Diablo. It was he who passed though your encampment. I can still sense his presence."
The rest of the mercenaries and Sisters had left Ex'Nihilio, Kashya and Akara alone. Warriv paused to check on the three and Charsi glance at them from her workshop but they were left alone.
Kashya breathed in deeply. "Y-you were of the Three?" she whispered excitedly.
Ex'Nihilio nodded and wrapped her left hand over her right wrist. "I did not defeat Diablo without a punishment. None of us did. Sturm suffers the worst yet even Randu, whose magical enchantments saved him from Diablo's wrath, did not escape." She held out the wrist to show what was on it.
A faintly glowing hourglass had been carved into her skin on one side and on the other, a pair of dark eyes watched from its place on her wrist, eyes glowing and formed in some demonic pattern.
Akara drew away with a hiss. "Those are Diablo's eyes!"
Ex'Nihilio shook her head. "No, those are the eyes of my friend Sturm." She drew in a breath of air with a hiss of pain. "He sees all that I do. And he makes sure that I feel the pain he does. Randu has the same. An old witch cast an enchantment over us during our battle beneath the Monastery, tying us together so that we never fear being lost from each other. Diablo corrupted it so that we cannot be separate for a long period of time without being consumed with the need to be together once more. Diablo wanted us to be destroyed together and feared that one of us would escape and become stronger before defeating Him. With this curse, when he chose to arise again, He would be able to defeat us as one."
She smiled wickedly. "However, He when He changed the spell, Diablo made it possible for us to connect on a much deeper plane. We can feel, see, hear and for the most part understand what the other does, so when we fought against Him, we were in perfect unity. Diablo would have loved to know that is curse was what made it so easy for the Three to defeat him."
"But that means that since the Lord of Terror now resides in your friend, He will know everything that you do and will be able to set up traps to prevent you," Akara argued.
Ex'Nihilio laughed. "Yes, but since this curse still continues, we will see the trap He sets and will be able to avoid it. If we wish."
"If you wish! Why would you go into a trap!"
"And more importantly," Akara broke in, casting Kashya a glance, "who is this 'we' you continue speaking of."
"When you wish to get stronger, do you avoid all fights or do you try to fight as much as you can to gain the experience and skill you need?" Ex'Nihilio asked, her tone making it sound as though the answer should have been obvious to the two.
"And the other person you speak of-"
"Can't you guess? It is Randu." Ex'Nihilio shrugged. "Once he taught me all he could, Randu learned the Arts of the undead and has become a Necromancer-"
"What manner of devilish entity is this?" Akara demanded.
"-who has done all he could to defend these lands," Ex'Nihilio finished with a glare. "If you think to insult him, I suggest you think twice about it. Randu was of the Three, a worker of the Arts who had he chose not to involve himself in Tristam's affairs, would have doomed us all years ago."
"It doesn't matter," Akara declared resolutely. "Necromancers have been banned from this realm. I will not allow you to continue fighting alongside one of that order."
"What if she does not listen to you," a dry voice from the shadows asked.
Ex'Nihilio's face broke up into a cheerful grin. "Randu! I was wondering when you'd show!"
From behind a tent came a tall and thin figure. The sound of bones clanking together mixed in with the smell of the dead announced Randu's presence with no question.
His pale white skin, evidence of the time spent in the dark to practice his dark magic, and the graying hair limply falling from his head as well as his bone white teeth, sunken eyes and bony form announced him as the Necromancer in question. His expression seemed to be stricken and grave, though it could just be the effect of being constantly associated with the dead. Like Ex'Nihilio, he wore a light cloak over his armor, the clothing serving to add to his defense as it did to hide whatever else he wore. A mask was slipped from his face as he came up and was hidden before any could see what it was.
He smiled as well as he could and nodded in acknowledgment to Kashya's and Akara's presence as he walked over and embraced his friend. The two laughed and exchanged whispered conversations, recalling past experiences both funny and sad. The pair walked off arm in arm into the shadows of the oncoming night.
Watching from afar, the demon known as Cambiador, its full name being Cambiador da forma, watched the two with yellow, glinting eyes. Its prey, a young man formally known as Mekof, lay dead at its feet, neck twisted into a spiraling pattern of flesh, still smelt of burned flesh. Cambiador twisted its dark red nose in disgust at the smell and kicked the dead human away with a powerful jolt from one of its massive hind legs.
Its scaly skin quickly absorbed the blood that splattered onto it from the blow and its black tongue darted from its twisted lips, lapping up any blood landing too close to its mouth.
From a distance, the Master Demon looked like a hunched human, strings of hair falling from its semi-bald head. It looked like a human…if one could ignore its scaly, blood red skin, padded feet and the lethal fangs jutting out from lips frozen in a gruesome smile.
Cambiador da Forma was one of the few Master Demons who got its name from a human. An insane explorer who had the misfortune to see the demon's power in action named it in his native tongue, Portuguese for shape changer.
It glanced at the pair once more, spared a glance to the dead body of its victim and began to form a plan. Andariel had ordered it to destroy the pair in any way it could, a secret gift for the Lord of Terror, and the way to do that was suddenly clear to the Demon.
All around it, four of its perverted skeleton minions laid before it in silent bows, following its silent order to give up the energy that gave them life to him, and fell to the dirt ground lifeless and for the first time in awhile, dead.
The rest of the undead minions watched in an uneasy silence as their companions lay before them, their skulls turned into chipped minerals used by their enemies. They were confused. They were undead, how could they die? Only those of the human race could kill one of their number and now their master sacrificed them without hesitation. The nervous clicking of bones sounded in the night and began to draw the attention of other monsters and undead in the area.
Cambiador glared at his minions, silencing them, and gathered the energy of its fallen. Normally, it wouldn't dare sacrifice one of its own but for this spell to work for the extended time needed to complete its plan, it needed the additional energy of it best. Once the energy was gathered, it closed slitted eyes and called on the spell.
A rush of green wind and before them stood the dead Mekof.
The minions watched for a bored moment, having witnessed the spectacle thousands of times before, and continued watching the pair in the distance.
"Your orders are now to watch the encampment. I am leaving to complete Andariel's orders and I expect you to watch, but do not act. And train more to replace these." Mekof's voice rang out to the skeletons' ears. They nodded and set out to gather potentials for their master.
He hadn't needed to speak, able to commune with his minions without words, but he wanted to assure the voice worked as well.
Smiling in Mekof's typical goofy grin, Cambiador walked after the humans. Minutes after the Demon had walked away, another form walked up in response to the smell of fresh decay. Seeing the still unblemished armor gracing the dead body, the Barbarian leaned over and slipped it on. He grunted in disgust but continued checking the body, managing to pick up 500 gold and a damaged skullcap. His broad shoulders and chest rippled with muscles as he stretched.
He threw the cap away and walked on. The way the human had been killed suggested a powerful monster and powerful monsters had money. A grin revealed chipped teeth and the Barbarian absently wiped beads of sweat from his square face, smearing blue war paint. On his wrists, the imprint of an hourglass was beginning to form and on the other side of the same wrist showed two narrowed eyes. The Barbarian paid no attention to the signs, seeking only what his tribe had entrusted him with. The Three had passed through his lands East of here, two together and one alone and his chief had told him to follow. He wasn't told why but any reason to bash in the heads of monsters-and gather some money in the process-seemed like a good adventure to him.
Nearly a mile north of the Rouge Encampment, a young Amazon rested to recover her breath, dozens of dead skeletons littering the ground around her. She wiped a few strands of hair from her face and stood, taking a drink from a small bottle of Minor Healing Potion before throwing the bottle to the ground. Wearing tough, leather armor and wielding a bloody Javelin, she paused but a moment before rushing onward across the land. Monsters fell from afar as she withdrew a bow and unleashed her fury from a distant. She didn't stop except to pick up a few items and some fallen gold as she continued following the pull that had taken her from her mountain home to these soft plains. Even the monsters were weak compared to what she had fought against.
She continued running until a fenced in encampment came into her view.
The nagging feeling stopped but she didn't go in. The guards posted looked more then ready to fill anything that moved with the arrows packed against their backs and she didn't live this long from being just plain lucky.
Pushing more hair from her face, the Amazon sat down for a long night's wait.
In the Cold Plains, a young and stern Paladin continued his excersizes on whatever moved and occasionally things that did not move. His brisk and stiff moves named him a new fighter but the way he held himself demonstrated the military life he'd lived. Heavy armor clanked loudly through the night sky and by morning, the lone fighter was covered in sweat as he made his way to the closest civilized town. Noting a small town not even named or acknowledged nearby on his map, the Paladin walked towards it, trying his best to keep his exhaustion from becoming too obvious. Any weakness was an opening for an attack from monsters and demons. The sun began to rise as the Paladin covered the last hill to set his eyes on the Rogue Encampment that sprawled across the land before him. He sighed in both relief from finding shelter and despair from the size of the town before lifting up his bloodied sword and walking down the hill to the closest shelter he had.
Author's Note:
So how was it? This is my first fanfic, so tell me what you think.
I've really only played the Sorceress, soo…I don't really know any of the others attacks. Tell me if you want me to put in some special attack or something.
I don't really have any idea on what to name these guys. If you have any ideas, please tell me. Otherwise, I'll just make them up somewhere.
Thanks!!! Please review!