The Three
".But you were dead a thousand times, hopeless battles successfully won. Now, in that quantum moment before all becomes one, I know who you are, you are DESTINY." --Sir Drake Of Harrogath
"One day, when the Lord Of Terror is slain, there will be another darkness in the land, one whose power will surpass that of the Archangel Tyrial himself. This demon will begin a reign of chaos, and foretell the final chapter of mankind's demise. The Lord Of Destruction shall be unstoppable. The sky will turn dark, day will become night, and the waves of Hellish creatures will spread across the land. Only the powers of light will resist them. However, there will be a tiny guild of heroes who will rise and fight Destruction. We will not know until the final fight if man will survive." --Deckard Cain, the last of the Horadrim
Man has been on this planet for over a million years. He has never seen the likes of Terror and his brothers. In 946, the first wave came, wreaking havoc in the countryside. Two brothers, Tyrial and Hadrial, arose to put an end to the suffering. With the assistance of their good friend Izual, they led an attack on the Hell forge hidden within the River Of Flame. None of them knew that Diablo's minions were reinforcing the stronghold and were prepared for the underpowered assault. The attack naturally failed, ending with Izual becoming one of the demons that he was trying to destroy. At this point, with the assistance of heavens' powers, the Prime Evils became unstoppable.
Arthur Drake awoke to the bright glare of the morning sun in his eyes. He tried to stifle a yawn but succumbed to its force. It was the beginning of another long day of his apprenticeship. He began this the year before, in 1014, under master Fletcher Quinn. The empire was in dire need of bows, and the king was asking many peasants to begin making weapons.
Drake rose from the cot, aware that he was most likely late for tutoring. He stripped himself of the yellow nightgown and put on a semi-clean white day robe. As soon as he was ready, he sprinted out the door.
The hut was typical of a peasant in Travincal, small and dirty, with only one tiny window by the cot. The overall size measured three meters by four, and stood at the peak of the dome three meters high. It was barely large enough to hold a single man within the confines of the walls. Inside was just as modest; there was the sleeping cot in by the far wall, with a standing mirror beside it. All of the possessions that Drake owned were proudly displayed on a pine desk adjacent to the mirror. There was his sword that was handed down through his family for six generations. Many called it the Grandfather Blade, as it seemed to hold an infinite wisdom to the world. Beside it was his shield, also handed down. The shine was wearing off of it by now though, and one could hardly make out the red dragon in the center. On the reverse of the shield, right underneath the crude leather handle, there was a faint inscription, it read, "Whoever holds this Sigon shield will have the key to the death of Terror and his brothers" Drake had no clue what this riddle meant.
Drake was late for today's fletching lesson, and Quinn was not very happy about it, "Boy! Why has yee come so late today, eh?"
"Well sir, I was.sleeping."
"What! Does yee think that yees sleep is more important than this?"
"No Sir! Not at all."
"Forget it then, let us get on with the fletching, just don't be late again boy, you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
Drake went to the corner of the shop to get two long wood planks. Quinn said that today he would show Drake how to make a crossbow. This was a difficult art to master, as a crossbow requires massive amounts of skill to make. As Drake went through the woodpile, he noticed a large bow standing next to the shelves. He reached for it and held it up, "Quinn, what is this, I have never seen a bow like this before?"
"Ah, the Windforce, I made that many years ago and thought it lost. It is so good to see it again."
"What sir?"
"The Windforce, tis a great bow that I fletched for my eldest son, Eric, who used it to protect this village from a demonic wave."
"Oh, ok."
Drake carefully placed the weapon back where he found it, remembering a story his mother once told him of the great powers of the legendary Hydra Bow. The lesson began.
The evening sky was beginning to turn dark when Drake returned home. He had only begun one crossbow during the entire day- as the process was much more difficult than he had originally imagined. The final few strands of light that were left began to disappear behind the clouds. Off in the distance Drake could make out a thunderstorm, the lightning bolts seemed to leap out of the cloud and try to destroy anything that moved. The faint yellow glow of the immense fusion reaction taking place within the storm began to become more vivid, as the storm was rapidly getting closer.
"Tis time to go in I think," Drake mumbled to himself.
He walked into the small hut and went to bed.
Outside, the storm was at its full fury; the sound of thunder was cracking all around the hut, bringing a faint feeling of terror to the land. The storm lasted about two hours, as best as Drake could tell, and he sat up in the cot when it was over. The thunder was beginning to disappear over the Spider Forest to the south. However, there was another sound, one that was so weak it could be barely made out by even the most sensitive ears.
Drake listened with the most circumspect mind he could muster, and it seemed as though the sound was getting louder. Then, out of nowhere, there were hundreds of screams-screams that sounded like they were more from agony than fright. He listened even more; now, there was the sound of thousands of footsteps, racing along, with even more screams. Drake built up the courage to take a peek outside, and to his horror, there were at least ten thousand demon minions invading the outskirts of Travincal.
Someone knocked on his door, "Drake, come out quickly, we must go!"
"Who is it?"
"Tis me, Meshif."
"Meshif! Good to hear from you again, where are we going?"
"Lut Gholein, now, we must go, come on."
"Wait, I must bring these," Drake grabbed the sword and shield on the desk.
He followed Meshif into lower Kurast, where his ancestors had lived over one hundred years ago. It was in ruin; obviously the demons had made it here the day before. The destruction was on a scale that Drake had never seen in his life, every single building in the city was damaged, and many crumbled beyond any recognition. However, there was one building that was almost totally left, it was the capitol building. In ancient Kurast, the elders would gather here to pray for the safety of the city from Mephisto, the Lord of Hatred.
"Stop here Meshif, I want to check something out."
Drake walked up the steps that led to the outer Citadel. It was in this area that the actual prayers took place. Drake looked up at the giant oak door, it was cracked down the middle and leaning against the wall. Actually, it really looked as if a forced entry into the structure took place at sometime. Inside, the outer citadel was dark and gloomy, as many of these old buildings usually are. He touched the wall, and it was.warm. Drake jumped back as the feeling startled him.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Again, he reached for the wall, bracing himself for another unexpected change. The wall was still warm, about as much as a human body. Drake decided to investigate this phenomenon, so he traveled farther. The more he went into the building, the warmer the air and surfaces seemed to get. It was like the actual framework of the structure itself was a giant creature. Drake forced ideas like this out of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.
"Drake, are you in there, we have to go now! I think I hear the monsters coming our way, they must sense us or something!"
There was no response from inside.
"Ag, what is he doing now?" Meshif said to himself, "He probably found a little butterfly to play with.DRAKE! Come on, we have to go now!"
Meanwhile, Drake had found something within the building that was of interest to him, a small relic. It was a tiny sword, made from a type of crystal unknown to him. He held it at arms length and tried to guess at its age-about one hundred, that would place it during the time of revival for the monks here. He took the sword and went out to Meshif.
"Here you are Meshif, I think that we will need this soon, take it," Drake handed the sword to him.
"Ok, well then, can we go now, because I am getting quite scared."
"Sure."
Again the two began to plod along, in a Southeastward direction toward the deadly Flayer Jungle. It was not often that an inhabitant of Kurast went into here, as there were primitive Fetish Shaman diffused throughout the jungle.
"Meshif, why are we going here?"
"I have made a few friends here in the past few days, there is a tiny village about two kilometers into the jungle. All we have to do is follow the river and we will get there, it is the first one we will come to."
Again, by an unknown force, Drake felt compelled to follow Meshif, as Meshif knew this area better than anybody in Travincal. He had lived here when he was a boy, some thirty years ago, long before Drake was even thought of.
The forest was right in front of them, no more than twenty meters off. It looked as pessimistic as the city they had left not an hour ago. Once they passed the barrier between the open fields of Kurast and the deep, depressing woods of the Flayer Jungle, they found themselves held within the arms of a new world. It was at this point that Drake realized something; Meshif had been extremely calm during the last hour or so, ever since he came to Drake's door. Even now, with the trees seeming like they were ready to grab out and capture and passers by, he held an unflinching aura.
"Hey Meshif, is there anything wrong?" Drake had not realized that his thoughts were spoken until it was too late.
"What?" asked a perplexed Meshif.
"I just noticed that you seemed, um.kind of weird when the demons came to Travincal."
"How would you describe it?"
"You seemed not to be afraid."
"Oh, that, I can't really explain that Drake, it is interesting is it not?"
Why was he being so taciturn with the truth? Drake was willing to let it go for now.
After fifty more minutes of rough terrain, the two reached a rather large clearing in the trees. Morning was almost upon them, only half an hour away. Drake stopped for a rest.
"What are you doing? Come on Drake, we have to reach the village before dawn."
"How much farther is it man?"
"Not far, maybe a quarter of a kilometer more, only ten minutes if we really muddle through this damn jungle."
Exhausted, Drake slowly rose to his feet, summoning just enough energy from deep within his body to continue on. The hike resumed. Once the great marsh came into view over the Eastern Hill, Meshif stopped, "Here we are Drake, the village."
"Uh, Meshif, there isn't anything here, are you sure that you are feeling well?"
"Of course, the village is beneath our feet. Follow me, I will show you where the entrance is. Twenty paces to our right."
Meshif carefully measured his paces as he attempted to locate the trap door to the heart of the village center. At pace number twenty-two, he bent
".But you were dead a thousand times, hopeless battles successfully won. Now, in that quantum moment before all becomes one, I know who you are, you are DESTINY." --Sir Drake Of Harrogath
"One day, when the Lord Of Terror is slain, there will be another darkness in the land, one whose power will surpass that of the Archangel Tyrial himself. This demon will begin a reign of chaos, and foretell the final chapter of mankind's demise. The Lord Of Destruction shall be unstoppable. The sky will turn dark, day will become night, and the waves of Hellish creatures will spread across the land. Only the powers of light will resist them. However, there will be a tiny guild of heroes who will rise and fight Destruction. We will not know until the final fight if man will survive." --Deckard Cain, the last of the Horadrim
Man has been on this planet for over a million years. He has never seen the likes of Terror and his brothers. In 946, the first wave came, wreaking havoc in the countryside. Two brothers, Tyrial and Hadrial, arose to put an end to the suffering. With the assistance of their good friend Izual, they led an attack on the Hell forge hidden within the River Of Flame. None of them knew that Diablo's minions were reinforcing the stronghold and were prepared for the underpowered assault. The attack naturally failed, ending with Izual becoming one of the demons that he was trying to destroy. At this point, with the assistance of heavens' powers, the Prime Evils became unstoppable.
Arthur Drake awoke to the bright glare of the morning sun in his eyes. He tried to stifle a yawn but succumbed to its force. It was the beginning of another long day of his apprenticeship. He began this the year before, in 1014, under master Fletcher Quinn. The empire was in dire need of bows, and the king was asking many peasants to begin making weapons.
Drake rose from the cot, aware that he was most likely late for tutoring. He stripped himself of the yellow nightgown and put on a semi-clean white day robe. As soon as he was ready, he sprinted out the door.
The hut was typical of a peasant in Travincal, small and dirty, with only one tiny window by the cot. The overall size measured three meters by four, and stood at the peak of the dome three meters high. It was barely large enough to hold a single man within the confines of the walls. Inside was just as modest; there was the sleeping cot in by the far wall, with a standing mirror beside it. All of the possessions that Drake owned were proudly displayed on a pine desk adjacent to the mirror. There was his sword that was handed down through his family for six generations. Many called it the Grandfather Blade, as it seemed to hold an infinite wisdom to the world. Beside it was his shield, also handed down. The shine was wearing off of it by now though, and one could hardly make out the red dragon in the center. On the reverse of the shield, right underneath the crude leather handle, there was a faint inscription, it read, "Whoever holds this Sigon shield will have the key to the death of Terror and his brothers" Drake had no clue what this riddle meant.
Drake was late for today's fletching lesson, and Quinn was not very happy about it, "Boy! Why has yee come so late today, eh?"
"Well sir, I was.sleeping."
"What! Does yee think that yees sleep is more important than this?"
"No Sir! Not at all."
"Forget it then, let us get on with the fletching, just don't be late again boy, you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
Drake went to the corner of the shop to get two long wood planks. Quinn said that today he would show Drake how to make a crossbow. This was a difficult art to master, as a crossbow requires massive amounts of skill to make. As Drake went through the woodpile, he noticed a large bow standing next to the shelves. He reached for it and held it up, "Quinn, what is this, I have never seen a bow like this before?"
"Ah, the Windforce, I made that many years ago and thought it lost. It is so good to see it again."
"What sir?"
"The Windforce, tis a great bow that I fletched for my eldest son, Eric, who used it to protect this village from a demonic wave."
"Oh, ok."
Drake carefully placed the weapon back where he found it, remembering a story his mother once told him of the great powers of the legendary Hydra Bow. The lesson began.
The evening sky was beginning to turn dark when Drake returned home. He had only begun one crossbow during the entire day- as the process was much more difficult than he had originally imagined. The final few strands of light that were left began to disappear behind the clouds. Off in the distance Drake could make out a thunderstorm, the lightning bolts seemed to leap out of the cloud and try to destroy anything that moved. The faint yellow glow of the immense fusion reaction taking place within the storm began to become more vivid, as the storm was rapidly getting closer.
"Tis time to go in I think," Drake mumbled to himself.
He walked into the small hut and went to bed.
Outside, the storm was at its full fury; the sound of thunder was cracking all around the hut, bringing a faint feeling of terror to the land. The storm lasted about two hours, as best as Drake could tell, and he sat up in the cot when it was over. The thunder was beginning to disappear over the Spider Forest to the south. However, there was another sound, one that was so weak it could be barely made out by even the most sensitive ears.
Drake listened with the most circumspect mind he could muster, and it seemed as though the sound was getting louder. Then, out of nowhere, there were hundreds of screams-screams that sounded like they were more from agony than fright. He listened even more; now, there was the sound of thousands of footsteps, racing along, with even more screams. Drake built up the courage to take a peek outside, and to his horror, there were at least ten thousand demon minions invading the outskirts of Travincal.
Someone knocked on his door, "Drake, come out quickly, we must go!"
"Who is it?"
"Tis me, Meshif."
"Meshif! Good to hear from you again, where are we going?"
"Lut Gholein, now, we must go, come on."
"Wait, I must bring these," Drake grabbed the sword and shield on the desk.
He followed Meshif into lower Kurast, where his ancestors had lived over one hundred years ago. It was in ruin; obviously the demons had made it here the day before. The destruction was on a scale that Drake had never seen in his life, every single building in the city was damaged, and many crumbled beyond any recognition. However, there was one building that was almost totally left, it was the capitol building. In ancient Kurast, the elders would gather here to pray for the safety of the city from Mephisto, the Lord of Hatred.
"Stop here Meshif, I want to check something out."
Drake walked up the steps that led to the outer Citadel. It was in this area that the actual prayers took place. Drake looked up at the giant oak door, it was cracked down the middle and leaning against the wall. Actually, it really looked as if a forced entry into the structure took place at sometime. Inside, the outer citadel was dark and gloomy, as many of these old buildings usually are. He touched the wall, and it was.warm. Drake jumped back as the feeling startled him.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Again, he reached for the wall, bracing himself for another unexpected change. The wall was still warm, about as much as a human body. Drake decided to investigate this phenomenon, so he traveled farther. The more he went into the building, the warmer the air and surfaces seemed to get. It was like the actual framework of the structure itself was a giant creature. Drake forced ideas like this out of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.
"Drake, are you in there, we have to go now! I think I hear the monsters coming our way, they must sense us or something!"
There was no response from inside.
"Ag, what is he doing now?" Meshif said to himself, "He probably found a little butterfly to play with.DRAKE! Come on, we have to go now!"
Meanwhile, Drake had found something within the building that was of interest to him, a small relic. It was a tiny sword, made from a type of crystal unknown to him. He held it at arms length and tried to guess at its age-about one hundred, that would place it during the time of revival for the monks here. He took the sword and went out to Meshif.
"Here you are Meshif, I think that we will need this soon, take it," Drake handed the sword to him.
"Ok, well then, can we go now, because I am getting quite scared."
"Sure."
Again the two began to plod along, in a Southeastward direction toward the deadly Flayer Jungle. It was not often that an inhabitant of Kurast went into here, as there were primitive Fetish Shaman diffused throughout the jungle.
"Meshif, why are we going here?"
"I have made a few friends here in the past few days, there is a tiny village about two kilometers into the jungle. All we have to do is follow the river and we will get there, it is the first one we will come to."
Again, by an unknown force, Drake felt compelled to follow Meshif, as Meshif knew this area better than anybody in Travincal. He had lived here when he was a boy, some thirty years ago, long before Drake was even thought of.
The forest was right in front of them, no more than twenty meters off. It looked as pessimistic as the city they had left not an hour ago. Once they passed the barrier between the open fields of Kurast and the deep, depressing woods of the Flayer Jungle, they found themselves held within the arms of a new world. It was at this point that Drake realized something; Meshif had been extremely calm during the last hour or so, ever since he came to Drake's door. Even now, with the trees seeming like they were ready to grab out and capture and passers by, he held an unflinching aura.
"Hey Meshif, is there anything wrong?" Drake had not realized that his thoughts were spoken until it was too late.
"What?" asked a perplexed Meshif.
"I just noticed that you seemed, um.kind of weird when the demons came to Travincal."
"How would you describe it?"
"You seemed not to be afraid."
"Oh, that, I can't really explain that Drake, it is interesting is it not?"
Why was he being so taciturn with the truth? Drake was willing to let it go for now.
After fifty more minutes of rough terrain, the two reached a rather large clearing in the trees. Morning was almost upon them, only half an hour away. Drake stopped for a rest.
"What are you doing? Come on Drake, we have to reach the village before dawn."
"How much farther is it man?"
"Not far, maybe a quarter of a kilometer more, only ten minutes if we really muddle through this damn jungle."
Exhausted, Drake slowly rose to his feet, summoning just enough energy from deep within his body to continue on. The hike resumed. Once the great marsh came into view over the Eastern Hill, Meshif stopped, "Here we are Drake, the village."
"Uh, Meshif, there isn't anything here, are you sure that you are feeling well?"
"Of course, the village is beneath our feet. Follow me, I will show you where the entrance is. Twenty paces to our right."
Meshif carefully measured his paces as he attempted to locate the trap door to the heart of the village center. At pace number twenty-two, he bent