Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Diablo II: Lords of Destruction; wouldn't be writing this if I did! I hope you like it.

Chapter 1 – The Beginning of an Era

A light drizzle was falling around the women standing guard at the bridge. Their breath steamed in front of their faces, the vapour clouding their vision slightly. A rumbling wagon approached the firelight at the other end of the bridge and one of the rogues called a halt.

Gaile turned to her companion,

"Go and tell Kashya that a caravan has arrived." The other woman nodded and ran into the camp. Gaile moved toward the caravan, squinting through the haze to see whom was driving.

"Greetings, rogue, I am but a humble caravan master seeking a warm fire."

The man that had spoken was huddled on the front seat of the wagon, his heavy cloak covering most of his features.

"Welcome to the Rogue Encampment, what are you called?" Gaile replied.

"Warriv is my name, and yours?"

"Gaile Swift-Arrow"

The old man smiled,

"That is a pretty name, Gaile. Now, how about that fire we talked about?"

Gaile couldn't help but smile at the caravan master, but she turned slightly to see if Fiona had returned with Kashya.

A fierce, middle-aged woman with fiery red hair was stalking over the bridge, Fiona at her side. Gaile stepped toward her and reported who, and what, it was.

The rogue leader nodded and called up to the man,

"You are welcome here, Warriv, there has been trouble recently. I trust you were safe during your journey here?"

At this the old man nodded and looked pointedly behind him. A slight figure rose up from the wagon bed and presented her staff.

"She goes by the name Verala. She just so happens to be a sorceress! She took care of any trouble we had." Warriv was obviously overjoyed with his guard, though he seemed to fear her. Kashya narrowed her eyes at the stranger, instantly taking a dislike to the woman who had not presented herself from the start.

Gaile was similarly distrustful of the woman, but she couldn't blame him for not mentioning her from the start. Some sorceresses have done bad things in the past, and not everyone greets them as warmly as a caravan master.

Kashya waved the caravan in and told him to set up his camp near the centre of the encampment, it would be easier to keep an eye on the strange visitor that way; but she didn't mention that.

-O-

Verala was silently studying the rogues. She tended to feel out a person by looking at them, not always resorting to her power to do so. The general feel of the camp was weariness and guarded mistrust. She knew instantly that the rogue's leader didn't like her, or trust her, and the feeling was mutual with the other rogues, there were however a few others in the camp that did not seem as apprehensive as the rogues themselves;

Interesting,seems like we are not the only visitors.

When Warriv had set up his tent near the centre of the encampment, and she had set her own beside his, she spoke to him. He mentioned that Tristram had been attacked, Diablo himself was rumoured to walk the land again.

"Of course that was the least of the problems here, something has happened at the monastery which guards the pass further up the road; the doors are sealed shut." Verala was surprised, she hadn't heard this in Westmarch. "Aye, they say that Andariel has turned." He rubbed his beard, "when the pass opens again I will gladly take you on to Lut Gholein, like we originally agreed."

"Thank you, Warriv." Verala smiled and bowed her head to the man.

-O-

Verala knew that it was around midday, but it was as dark as night; ferocious cloud cover and murky fog surrounded the camp and the moors. Across the camp torches burnt, casting a meagre orange glow over the tents and the guardian rogues. The torches themselves were almost barbaric in nature, three simple poles tied together at the top to form a pyramid , smaller sticks were positioned horizontally at the bottom of the three poles to create a sturdy frame. On top of this frame was a rudimentary metal bracket that housed the flame.

Interesting how the flame doesn't seem to burn anything.

Verala looked about the camp, sitting on her chest, hoping to see something that was cheery, full of life. Instead she saw the angry glares of off-duty rogues, and the suspicious glances of those on guard.

They distrust me. Good.

She stood up after whispering a quick spell; the stares around her told her that it had worked. She had cast a spell that made the illusion of her suddenly appearing to be stood upright, rather than sat huddled on the chest. Inwardly she smiled, this would be a good day.

She grabbed her staff and made as if to walk towards the back of the camp, but the fire-headed rogue from the bridge called to her, sounding rather unpleasant.

"Sorceress! We have to talk." Verala thought about ignoring the woman, but the nocked arrows around her told her it would have been a very bad idea.

She turned towards the advancing rogue leader, allowing her hair to whip into a frenzy from a sudden gust of wind.

"You wish to talk, Rogue?" I shall belittle her as she does me.

"You know who am I, you were in the caravan while I was talking with Warriv, an honourable man; and yet you sat there without identifying yourself until the very last moment! You disgust us with your dishonour."

She moved as close to Verala as physically possible, " I am the leader of the Rogues, Akara is just the figure-head. Even if you have her trust, you will not have mine. I can only trust those that have proven themselves beyond a doubt that they serve the purpose of the Rogues."

"Very well, Kashya was it? I shall be mindful of your... our talk." She turned and walked towards a tent at the back of the camp that had a young woman blacksmith stood outside.

"Watch yourself, Sorceress."