Some say the ends justify the means. Netzach certainly does. I don't know why Kashya and Akara give him their respect, call him a hero. Especially Kashya. She offered our services as soon as she heard he had vanquished Blood Raven's tormented soul. Why? Blood Raven certainly was different than the hero she had been at her death. But Netzach was certainly as evil as she was, bringing the dead back to fight for him. Of course, nobody saw evil in animating the skeletons of monsters and demons, but it was obvious that the necromancer had no qualms about reviving the corpses of humans as well. But would Akara speak up against him?
I certainly wouldn't. As much as I disliked the man, I was afraid to say that I feared him as well. He seemed to be in a perpatual bad mood, never a word to me unless I spoke to him. I don't know if he ever smiled. His skin was pale and drawn, he looked much like the skeletons that fought his battles for him. Not that he never took part in the fighting. He carried around an odd weapon, a wand of sorts. It was the length of his forearm, and bone-white in color. Maybe it was a bone, it certainly seemed harder than any wood that goes into the making of wands that I've seen. At it's head was a small skull, barely the size of a clenched fist, with two long teeth. He did not use it in melee combat (already it had a crack down the side of it, a small fracture from smashing some monster's head), but I had seen him channel spells through it, small "teeth" as he called them. Apparently, this wand served more as a conduit than as an actual weapon. It was his real weapons that frightened me.
Netzach used his enemies as tools of destruction. To him, death was not only nothing to worry about, but death was his speciality. His... field of work. The skeletons of his former enemies, ranging from the small Fallen shambling along to the huge Brute corpses, now fought their brethren with more fervor than they had in life. Everywhere he went (save the the encampment on a request from Akara), a dozen of the things followed him. He said that he only had the energy to keep twelve of the animation spells running, especially with that Brute skeleton. But whenever one of the skeletons died, he just made another. It was like an infinite army. One that was as dead as the very demons it killed.
He sickened me.
I am Yuriel, a lieutenant among the rogues. Well, I am now. Though I was not around to do battle in Tristram like many of my other sisters, I did take place in the fighting against Andariel, the fighting that drove us out of our ancestral monastery. That's where I had risen my ranks, when Kundri, my old lieutenant, died. I had not seen her corpse here, in the catacombs of our old home, but many time we had passed warriors of the Sisterhood, skinned and crucified after they had died. Or maybe before. The thought sent a shiver through me.
"Yes," Netzach said suddenly, probably in response to my shudder, "we are close." He looked around as if we weren't alone in the dark hallways beneath the inner cloister. I half expected him to sniff the air like the wolfhound he was. His lips, as pale as the rest of his face, drew back in a silent snarl. "She senses my children, just as I sense hers. We are close." I didn't need to ask who ishe/i was.
No, Netzach was not just evil, he was mad! The skeletons, the undead creatures that surrounded us, they were not his minions. Not even his pets. They were his "children". Never mind that he seemed to care not a whit for them, these damned souls. If any of them were to fall, he would just make a new one. "Children", indeed!
Still... perhaps he was a necessary evil. Andariel was a monstrous demon, strong enough to break the Sisterhood and send us scurrying. Her army was just as strong as ours, if not stronger. She must be stopped, and at all costs. I can only hope that our wolfhound would remain leashed, and not turn to snap at us once the bigger threat was removed.
"Well?" I said in irritation when he didn't continue. If he didn't like to talk, then he should not have agreed to have a companion. "Are we just going to wait here and let her surprise us, or will we do what we came here to do?" I was a bit surprised at the vehemence in my voice. Perhaps my hatred for Andariel outweighed my fears of her--and Netzach himself.
"Be silent!" he snapped back. "If we are to do battle, then we shall do battle at our fullest strength." I looked around, and realized only eleven skeletons stood. They stood as if incapable of movement, as if they would never move again. I almost laughed to myself. 'Only' eleven skeletons, when such a number would have given me nightmares just weeks ago. Netzach had brought almost as much change as Andariel. I could only hope he could change what we needed.
The thin necromancer stood over a corpse, I realize, but not a corpse of a monster. I almost gasped when I recognized the face of Ashandra, my closest friend. She had died in the fighting against Andariel, giving her life to take a spell meant for me. That bone wand began to glow a faint blue, and Netzach closed his eyes in concentration. When I realized what he intended, I did gasp.
"No!" I said hoarsely. "No, please, you can't!" He ignored me, silently mouthing an incantation. Already, Ashandra's corpse began to twitch with life. "Stop this, Netzach!" I took a step forward, and one of the skeletons, thinking I mean to harm him, stood in my way. I ignored it. "Please!" He didn't even turn to acknowledge me as he completed his spell. With a shimmer of vitality, Ashandra stood, more bone than flesh, her bow once again in her hands. There was no recognition in her eyes... no life. "Why!?" I nearly cried. This was different than using monsters and demons. This was once a human, her soul ripped from whatever afterlife it inhabited, doomed for eternity, now. "We could have gone and found... something else, anything. Why her?"
Finally, Netzach did answer me, turning his head to look at me. There was no expression on his face, no sympathy or understanding. "Your skill with the bow is exceptional, Yuriel, and arrows are just as useful in combat as the blade. I would prefer two sets on my side. One, at least, will always follow me." He turned away again, and began walking down the dank corridors. "Be glad it is just this one." As he moved, his skeletons suddenly sprang into action, following him warily, making a tight circle around him.
My hands tightened on my own bow until my knuckles cracked. Even as I followed him--I had to force the steps--I vowed that he would meet his end by my hands for this. As soon as I was done with this wolfhound, as soon as we no longer needed him, I would put him down myself!
Oddly, we came across no monsters in this area. Odd because almost everywhere we went in our infested monastery, there were monsters. Maybe Netzach was right, Andarial was on this floor. If that were the case, they were probably all with her. Unless Andarial was alone. That could be a problem, if Netzach had no more corpses--demon corpses, of course, humans would side with no demon!--then the small force we had was all there was in fighting her. Or maybe her army would serve to only weaken Netzach's skeletons, as Andariel concerned himself with the necromancer and I.
I crushed these doubts mentally, knowing that the coming fight would completely decide the fate of my sisters. I had to be strong.
We stopped at a giant set of double doors, huge enough to allow even the skeletal Brute access without hindrance at all. I frowned. I had never been this low in the monastery, not until the fighting began, and I did not remember these doors. Netzach gestured to them with a sharp inclination of his head, and one of his skeletons obediantly opened the doors.
To confirm my theories, a small horde of monsters swarmed out, small black demons armed with spears and viciously curved sabres. They met with Netzach's skeletons instantly, the necromancer himself doing nothing to help, just crossed his arms and waited. I, however, took this opportunity to fire arrow after arrow into the crowd. I barely even aimed, it was difficult to hit the skeletons, and with the demons crowded as they were, I doubt any of my arrows went by them. And if I hit Netzach, well... he deserved as much.
Suddenly, everything turned white to my eyes, and I had the sensation of floating aimlessly. I blinked, and realized I was on the ground. My muscles screamed in agony; a spell must have been cast. And unless the wolfhound had decided to double cross me already, that could only mean... iAndariel... /i
I slowly pulled myself to my feet, my hand still tight around the bow. I looked around, and saw that the battle has turned from whatever advantage we may have had. The skeletons no longer held the monsters at the door, and the black demons were everywhere, attacking Netzach's animated minions from all sides. The necromancer himself, having lost or broken his wand in the fighting, fought, swinging the disembodied arm of one of his own skeletons, still gripping a double-bladed axe. He fought with little skill, only trying to calm the area around him just long enough to cast a spell. And at the center of the fighting, doing battle with none other than the skeleton of the hulking Brute, was Andariel.
She was a terrible parody of a nude woman, larger even than her current combatant, with long red hair and what looked to be six tentacles coming from her back. Her feet and hands ended in long red claws, and the look in her eyes was as human as the demons that surrounded her. I lifted my bow weakly, unsteadily aiming the arrow at her chest. Whatever spell she had cast seemed to drain my strength, I could hardly stand. I numbly loosed the arrow, and was answered with a howl. My arrow jutted from her chest, but she still fought, unfazed. Again, hope seemed to fade, but I nocked another arrow, unwilling to give up.
I never had time to fire it. In a flash of blue light, three pale blue missiles struck her in the back, causing her to stagger against the Brute's skeleton. With an angry roar, Andariel turned around to face Netzach, but he fired another barrage of those "teeth". Again, and again, and again. His face was contorted, whether by the fever of battle or just in the intense strain of casting that spell in succession. She began to talk towards Netzach, slowly making progress as every spell blasted her back. But suddenly, another skeleton attacked her, and two more. She turned to face the skeletons that slashed and hacked at her, a fatal mistake. Netzach continued firing at her until, with a roar that filled my head and made me want to scream, she collapsed, taking one of the skeletons with her. Fire lanced up from her dead body, filling the room. I was barely conscious of Netzach lifting a shield of bone to protect me and his skeletons in my weakened condition. Everything else in the room, including Andariel's own minions, shrieked and died. I could barely feel the intense heat.
When the inferno died down, I collapsed to my knees. But not in relief, not in triumph. I looked down at my hands, puffy and black. Dimly, I saw Netzach creating a portal, ripping a hole in space itself back to the encampment, to tell Akara of Andariel's death. He turned to me to say something, but I had already collapsed, realizing that whatever she had done to me, Andariel had ensured my death along with hers.
Just before the poison took my life, I lifted my head. Of the few skeletons that remained standing, Ashandra was one of them, still holding her bow just like she did in life. I couldn't help but smile bitterly as I realized that, Netzach would not mourn my death. How ironic; he would doubtless raise me as one of his soldiers.
As one of his children.
I certainly wouldn't. As much as I disliked the man, I was afraid to say that I feared him as well. He seemed to be in a perpatual bad mood, never a word to me unless I spoke to him. I don't know if he ever smiled. His skin was pale and drawn, he looked much like the skeletons that fought his battles for him. Not that he never took part in the fighting. He carried around an odd weapon, a wand of sorts. It was the length of his forearm, and bone-white in color. Maybe it was a bone, it certainly seemed harder than any wood that goes into the making of wands that I've seen. At it's head was a small skull, barely the size of a clenched fist, with two long teeth. He did not use it in melee combat (already it had a crack down the side of it, a small fracture from smashing some monster's head), but I had seen him channel spells through it, small "teeth" as he called them. Apparently, this wand served more as a conduit than as an actual weapon. It was his real weapons that frightened me.
Netzach used his enemies as tools of destruction. To him, death was not only nothing to worry about, but death was his speciality. His... field of work. The skeletons of his former enemies, ranging from the small Fallen shambling along to the huge Brute corpses, now fought their brethren with more fervor than they had in life. Everywhere he went (save the the encampment on a request from Akara), a dozen of the things followed him. He said that he only had the energy to keep twelve of the animation spells running, especially with that Brute skeleton. But whenever one of the skeletons died, he just made another. It was like an infinite army. One that was as dead as the very demons it killed.
He sickened me.
I am Yuriel, a lieutenant among the rogues. Well, I am now. Though I was not around to do battle in Tristram like many of my other sisters, I did take place in the fighting against Andariel, the fighting that drove us out of our ancestral monastery. That's where I had risen my ranks, when Kundri, my old lieutenant, died. I had not seen her corpse here, in the catacombs of our old home, but many time we had passed warriors of the Sisterhood, skinned and crucified after they had died. Or maybe before. The thought sent a shiver through me.
"Yes," Netzach said suddenly, probably in response to my shudder, "we are close." He looked around as if we weren't alone in the dark hallways beneath the inner cloister. I half expected him to sniff the air like the wolfhound he was. His lips, as pale as the rest of his face, drew back in a silent snarl. "She senses my children, just as I sense hers. We are close." I didn't need to ask who ishe/i was.
No, Netzach was not just evil, he was mad! The skeletons, the undead creatures that surrounded us, they were not his minions. Not even his pets. They were his "children". Never mind that he seemed to care not a whit for them, these damned souls. If any of them were to fall, he would just make a new one. "Children", indeed!
Still... perhaps he was a necessary evil. Andariel was a monstrous demon, strong enough to break the Sisterhood and send us scurrying. Her army was just as strong as ours, if not stronger. She must be stopped, and at all costs. I can only hope that our wolfhound would remain leashed, and not turn to snap at us once the bigger threat was removed.
"Well?" I said in irritation when he didn't continue. If he didn't like to talk, then he should not have agreed to have a companion. "Are we just going to wait here and let her surprise us, or will we do what we came here to do?" I was a bit surprised at the vehemence in my voice. Perhaps my hatred for Andariel outweighed my fears of her--and Netzach himself.
"Be silent!" he snapped back. "If we are to do battle, then we shall do battle at our fullest strength." I looked around, and realized only eleven skeletons stood. They stood as if incapable of movement, as if they would never move again. I almost laughed to myself. 'Only' eleven skeletons, when such a number would have given me nightmares just weeks ago. Netzach had brought almost as much change as Andariel. I could only hope he could change what we needed.
The thin necromancer stood over a corpse, I realize, but not a corpse of a monster. I almost gasped when I recognized the face of Ashandra, my closest friend. She had died in the fighting against Andariel, giving her life to take a spell meant for me. That bone wand began to glow a faint blue, and Netzach closed his eyes in concentration. When I realized what he intended, I did gasp.
"No!" I said hoarsely. "No, please, you can't!" He ignored me, silently mouthing an incantation. Already, Ashandra's corpse began to twitch with life. "Stop this, Netzach!" I took a step forward, and one of the skeletons, thinking I mean to harm him, stood in my way. I ignored it. "Please!" He didn't even turn to acknowledge me as he completed his spell. With a shimmer of vitality, Ashandra stood, more bone than flesh, her bow once again in her hands. There was no recognition in her eyes... no life. "Why!?" I nearly cried. This was different than using monsters and demons. This was once a human, her soul ripped from whatever afterlife it inhabited, doomed for eternity, now. "We could have gone and found... something else, anything. Why her?"
Finally, Netzach did answer me, turning his head to look at me. There was no expression on his face, no sympathy or understanding. "Your skill with the bow is exceptional, Yuriel, and arrows are just as useful in combat as the blade. I would prefer two sets on my side. One, at least, will always follow me." He turned away again, and began walking down the dank corridors. "Be glad it is just this one." As he moved, his skeletons suddenly sprang into action, following him warily, making a tight circle around him.
My hands tightened on my own bow until my knuckles cracked. Even as I followed him--I had to force the steps--I vowed that he would meet his end by my hands for this. As soon as I was done with this wolfhound, as soon as we no longer needed him, I would put him down myself!
Oddly, we came across no monsters in this area. Odd because almost everywhere we went in our infested monastery, there were monsters. Maybe Netzach was right, Andarial was on this floor. If that were the case, they were probably all with her. Unless Andarial was alone. That could be a problem, if Netzach had no more corpses--demon corpses, of course, humans would side with no demon!--then the small force we had was all there was in fighting her. Or maybe her army would serve to only weaken Netzach's skeletons, as Andariel concerned himself with the necromancer and I.
I crushed these doubts mentally, knowing that the coming fight would completely decide the fate of my sisters. I had to be strong.
We stopped at a giant set of double doors, huge enough to allow even the skeletal Brute access without hindrance at all. I frowned. I had never been this low in the monastery, not until the fighting began, and I did not remember these doors. Netzach gestured to them with a sharp inclination of his head, and one of his skeletons obediantly opened the doors.
To confirm my theories, a small horde of monsters swarmed out, small black demons armed with spears and viciously curved sabres. They met with Netzach's skeletons instantly, the necromancer himself doing nothing to help, just crossed his arms and waited. I, however, took this opportunity to fire arrow after arrow into the crowd. I barely even aimed, it was difficult to hit the skeletons, and with the demons crowded as they were, I doubt any of my arrows went by them. And if I hit Netzach, well... he deserved as much.
Suddenly, everything turned white to my eyes, and I had the sensation of floating aimlessly. I blinked, and realized I was on the ground. My muscles screamed in agony; a spell must have been cast. And unless the wolfhound had decided to double cross me already, that could only mean... iAndariel... /i
I slowly pulled myself to my feet, my hand still tight around the bow. I looked around, and saw that the battle has turned from whatever advantage we may have had. The skeletons no longer held the monsters at the door, and the black demons were everywhere, attacking Netzach's animated minions from all sides. The necromancer himself, having lost or broken his wand in the fighting, fought, swinging the disembodied arm of one of his own skeletons, still gripping a double-bladed axe. He fought with little skill, only trying to calm the area around him just long enough to cast a spell. And at the center of the fighting, doing battle with none other than the skeleton of the hulking Brute, was Andariel.
She was a terrible parody of a nude woman, larger even than her current combatant, with long red hair and what looked to be six tentacles coming from her back. Her feet and hands ended in long red claws, and the look in her eyes was as human as the demons that surrounded her. I lifted my bow weakly, unsteadily aiming the arrow at her chest. Whatever spell she had cast seemed to drain my strength, I could hardly stand. I numbly loosed the arrow, and was answered with a howl. My arrow jutted from her chest, but she still fought, unfazed. Again, hope seemed to fade, but I nocked another arrow, unwilling to give up.
I never had time to fire it. In a flash of blue light, three pale blue missiles struck her in the back, causing her to stagger against the Brute's skeleton. With an angry roar, Andariel turned around to face Netzach, but he fired another barrage of those "teeth". Again, and again, and again. His face was contorted, whether by the fever of battle or just in the intense strain of casting that spell in succession. She began to talk towards Netzach, slowly making progress as every spell blasted her back. But suddenly, another skeleton attacked her, and two more. She turned to face the skeletons that slashed and hacked at her, a fatal mistake. Netzach continued firing at her until, with a roar that filled my head and made me want to scream, she collapsed, taking one of the skeletons with her. Fire lanced up from her dead body, filling the room. I was barely conscious of Netzach lifting a shield of bone to protect me and his skeletons in my weakened condition. Everything else in the room, including Andariel's own minions, shrieked and died. I could barely feel the intense heat.
When the inferno died down, I collapsed to my knees. But not in relief, not in triumph. I looked down at my hands, puffy and black. Dimly, I saw Netzach creating a portal, ripping a hole in space itself back to the encampment, to tell Akara of Andariel's death. He turned to me to say something, but I had already collapsed, realizing that whatever she had done to me, Andariel had ensured my death along with hers.
Just before the poison took my life, I lifted my head. Of the few skeletons that remained standing, Ashandra was one of them, still holding her bow just like she did in life. I couldn't help but smile bitterly as I realized that, Netzach would not mourn my death. How ironic; he would doubtless raise me as one of his soldiers.
As one of his children.