Well, it was about time…

I promised, and it hath arrived!

Well, better get going with this, then.

Diclaimer: I don't own Diablo in any way, shape, or form, and do not profit beyond attention gain in the making and publishing of this.

~F~

A howling stream of wind slips through the air, carrying with it clouds of leaves. One of such leaves flies into a small, pale hand, and its fingers deftly press to the dead foliage's fragile exterior.

The leaf is brought down to a small boy's face, the child solemnly clutching his prize. His brilliant blue eyes touch on the leaf, but quickly flick to the tall figure on his left.

Dark brown eyes peer down from the faded grey cowl to meet the child's cool stare.

"Father, something dead."

"Agrius, things that have lived may be of infinite interest to you, and perhaps of use to me, but we have more pressing matters than a scholarly traipse in the autumn."

Agrius blinks and looks down, his blue eyes beginning to darken. "A home to settle, a house to make. The sun's touch is crippled here. I hath no joy but the dead and your companionship in this fettered place."

The tall man pauses in his walk and removes the hood from his head, revealing the proud ebony visage concealed within it, and gives the precocious boy a firmer look. "Best learn to enjoy the cold, child; we have naught but here to go. The Viz'Jerei has been sundered, and the men of the Horadrim have long since ceased all but minimal arcane connections with the outside world. The perversions of the Skatsimi and Travincal didn't appeal to us either. A long vacation in the country away from any thaumaturgical influence won't be the end of your emotional wellbeing. Besides that, I believe this will be an experience for you, even if all you foresee in this is a stay in the boonies."

"An experience?" Agrius returns his gaze to his father's face, his eyes glimmering like twin flames. "I hath many an experience, and none hath had yon need for putrification of mind. Bear witness to we both dying without recognition nor further expanse of anything worthwhile. Methinks the only notable change be seeing in ye is the growth of some gross, unoiled beard and the belly of yon homely surrogate mother. To the Hells with mundane experience!"

The father's eyes flash with a keen irritation, but dim quickly, as does the rest of his countenance. "Son, you have too much to learn about the world yet. Conversely," the grizzled sage's eyes narrow into clever slits, "if 'mundane experience' is such a tax on your soul, why in Heavens have you ceaselessly carried on talking like a mummer? I know the little farce we went to was pretty decent, but I doubt it was so necessary to flatter it with imitation…"

Agrius starts in mild embarrassment, quickly saying. "The sun's going; We must set camp – let's get a fire going before we freeze in this infernal autumnal breeze…" He makes a show of glancing West.

Amused, the tall man's mouth quirks in a slight smile, saying "I do believe the lad doth protest too much…"

The vexed boy stiffly walks over to a healthy oak tree nearby, saying "Just unpack the canvas while I gather some proper firewood." With that, he briskly rips off a low hanging limb.

"Methinks the lad should not fail to remember that pine wood makes for proper kindling to go with proper firewood." Agrius's father chuckles mellifluously.

"Oh, shut up, old man."

~P~

Soon enough, there was enough "proper" wood for kindling and regular burning. Agrius's father promptly and efficiently set it aflame with a muttered word and a casual flick of the wrist. Now things are stable for now, with the mage jotting down an entry in his weathered journal with the day's happenings and the new fauna and flora discovered and the boy carving out marks in a thick tuber.

However, their brief respite does not last; a crooked and weird figure appears at the edge of the camp, smoothly striding in. Agrius's father glances up casually, his long leonine mane seeming to unnaturally shimmer in the dull light of the fire.

"I wasn't expecting you at such a time, although it is your way. How goes it, you clever snake?"

The figure straightens up to a proud and tall stature, revealing a masqued face. "Yes, but the times do seem to run on, don't they. New face, I see. Who are you now?"

"Rajid Fael'Rejan. Journeying Mage of the East" The sitting man shows the marks on his arm and collar, as well as the eldritch bones sewn into the flesh of his left foot. The mysterious figure shifts in amusement.

"Interesting. I see you have a companion. Whatever is he doing to that poor turnip?"

Agrius glares up from under his brow, interjecting "Carving out a lantern, seeing as doing things with my hands keeps me from going insane out in this forsaken ditch in the wilderness and the old coot is too good for a working lantern made this side of the enduring reign of Conistraad. Gnarly codblocks I say to that…"

The distressed father turns to his old compatriot. "My son. Gets this from his rather viperous mother… Shame, really; shows true promise, under all the snark, though."

"Really? Well then" The bizarre visitor turns to Agrius. "Boy, have a gift from uncle Rathma; a piece of wood for that lovely face o' yourn"

With that, he casts the strange bit at the boy, disappearing just after there is a brief glimpse at the grinning visage of a nephilim within the folds of the figure's cloak.

~P~

A few days later, two travelers enter Tristram, side by side.

One, a tall, exotic man dressed in resplendent robes of Viz'Jerei orange, the other, a queer, small figure carrying a turnip with a burning ember within, one brilliant green eye leering out mischievously.

~F~

Oh, I had to do it; the time Agrius comes to Tristram.

It was too good to pass up.

Unfortunately, I fucked up and missed putting this on the actual damn day of my self-imposed deadline. Shows ta go ya how friggin' predictable I am.

But at least I got it up here, folks.

Enjoy, I sure as hell did.