Author's note: This is my first fic.I just started playing d2 this year sinceI finally got a new com :) and its so fun. hell difficulty is well... hell... so I decided to write a fic about d2 :)
Act 1 Scene 1
The gossip was good tonight. The bartender leaned against the counter, his ears picking up titbits of information here and there… Some spoke about a dark wanderer, who travelled across the lands, and misfortune befall those who happened to travel in his wake. Others spoke of Diablo, the Lord of Terror, voicing out their horror at the destruction that befell the ancient town of Tristram. He watched as the people streamed in, drawn to the pub after a hard day's work and the gossip flowing round. Ale flowed freely from the flagons the barmaids hoisted around.
"Ahoy bartender! How about a couple of ales over here!" A large, muscular man waved his empty mug at the bartender. The company he sat with hooted and seconded the call. The bartender recognised them. These Barbarians were from the tribe of Korlic, named after one of the great barbarian ancients. Their muscular chests were emblazoned with various patterns of dragons and weapons, and one also bore the pattern on the right side of his face. Their weapons, mainly axes, swords and a single spear, were leaning against the sides of the chairs they were sitting on. As the bartender moved forward to serve them drinks, his attention was drawn to a cloaked figure sitting in the corner of the pub. The cloaked man's unnatural stillness made him seem very eerie. His green eyes glinted from under the hood as he surveyed the people around him. A lock of snow-white hair protruded from the hood, reaching to his shoulder. His figure seemed gaunt and frail. The bartender squinted slightly. Did he just see bone plating covering his chest?
An involuntary shudder caused the bartender to spill one of the drinks. The barbarian he was serving the drink to slammed his fist on the table and demanded another. The bartender quickly apologised and wiped up the mess. As the bartender moved back to the counter, his ears drew in some words that confirmed his worst fears: "Hey, didn't you say that the dark wanderer was sighted not far from here?"
The bartender's hands shook as he prepared the drinks. No, this could not be happening to him. Why would the dark wanderer, who had some rumoured connection to Diablo himself, be sitting in one corner of his pub?
He whirled around and tried to spot the cloaked figure. His eyes searched the bar, but found no dark wanderer. A creak made him turn towards the door, only to see a whisper of black cloth as the shadowy person stepped out, following a band of merchants.
He sighed with relief, and continued mixing the drinks.
Thalasi had been drawn out from his studies of necromancy by the news that Diablo had risen again. The rumours about what happened in Tristram spread far and wide, some even piercing the depths of Thalasi's study. Discarding several rumours to be false and trusting some to contain some truth, Thalasi decided to go out and find out for himself. There were two parts to the act of necromancy; one part is theory and the other practical. Thalasi had learned much from his master during his time in the dark necropolis. Incantations of spells flowed freely to his lips now, his pronunciation was perfect, and he never missed a single syllable. He had committed all the written papers about the three branches of necromancy to memory. Ask him the details about any spell, and he can provide it accurately with the appropriate incantation.
Practical was another story.
The only necromancers who could summon and cast their spells with ease were those who ventured out into the world, doing great deeds of honour or glory. Those were promoted to masters in their order. Thalasi's master had managed to slay one of the greatest threats to their kind, many years before. A rogue assassin assaulted the necromancers, claiming to have seen a vision of which the necromancers joined Diablo in an unholy alliance to save Baal. She slew many of the necromancers, but Thalasi's master gave chase and managed to slay her in the Kurast docks.
Practical was harder to master as the sudden and quick improvising of the spells and summoned creatures were a far cry from the daily skeleton battles in the academy of necromancy. Casting spells while looking death in the eye was a different experience from shooting the rare tree in the necropolis or the skeletal targets.
Thalasi gathered what news he could before stepping out of the necropolis. The necromancer network had told him of the sighting of a dark wanderer near Lut Gholein. The difficulty was getting to Lut Gholein. As many of the priests of the human world viewed the necromancers with distaste, Thalasi donned a black, flowing cloak in order to disguise his true identity to the random passerby.
On foot, he began his journey to the nearest town. As a necromancer, he preferred to journey by night and seek shelter by day, as he found the glare of the sun a starling change from his gloomy homeland. It took him 1 full week to reach one of the smaller towns at the edge of civilisation.
Thalasi reached the town in the middle of the night. As he approached the rickety walls, 2 sentries accosted him. They were dressed like any other typical kings' man: the standard iron helm, metal chain, leather boots, and long spears. They approached him warily, as if expecting him to attack them at any moment.
"State your name and your business here," the one on the right told him in a gruff voice.
"I am Thalasi, a necromancer." Thalasi threw back his hood so they could see his full features. "I have come to rest and seek transport to Lut Gholein."
The two sentries eyed him warily. Thalasi gave them a reassuring smile. "Be at ease. I mean no harm to you or your town. I just need some transport so I can find out the truth to these rumours about Diablo."
One of the sentries sighed. "You're not the first one. A group of barbarians also came today, much earlier than you. I think they are still up in the pub." The solider gesticulated towards a building. "You can find lodging there too."
"Thank you." Thalasi replied. He stepped into town and wandered over to the tavern. Despite the late hour, the pub was still rowdy. "I guess this is where I can find a few merchants to follow." He thought. Pulling his cloak around him and replacing his hood, he stepped into the pub.
An overwhelming amount of stimuli assaulted his senses. He could see many merchants gossiping, the usual drunkards roaring away, pretty barmaids serving drinks and flirting shamelessly with the muscular barbarians, the stench of various perfumes mixed with the smoke from the fire at the hearth… Disgusting. Thalasi did not relish the thought of having to stay overnight here, except that he had to find transport to Lut Gholein. This was nothing like his hometown, where the people never consumed alcohol. He chose a corner table and sat down. Waving away the barmaid who had come to take his order, he adjusted his cloak and scanned the crowed, ears pricked for any news about Lut Gholein.
Luck was with the necromancer, for after half an hour of waiting, he heard a merchant speak: "Ha ha ha! Warriv, are you sure you are sober? Yes, the profits might be good, but who in their right minds would want to travel to Lut Gholein to sell wares, especially at a time like this!"
Thalasi turned to regard this merchant, Warriv, as he spoke to defend his case. "Precisely! With most merchants thinking the same way as you, Lut Gholein would be facing a severe shortage of supply! With the goods I'm bringing there, I can jack up the price and demand lots and lots of gold!" Warriv's eyes sparkled. "Just imagine what you could do with all that profit! I can charge nearly 500 of the normal asking price here!"
"Bah," replied another merchant, "So what if you made all that gold? You wouldn't be able to spend it if you're DEAD!" the table of merchants laughed loudly and prepared to leave.
Thalasi followed Warriv out of the pub. Not a moment too soon, though. Thalasi had a prickly feeling that the bartender didn't like him. He thought he saw the bartender staring at him intensely. Thalasi wondered whether it was because he took up the valuable table space without buying any drinks. "Oh well." Thalasi shrugged it off and approached Warriv.
"Greetings," Thalasi said. "I happened to hear that you are travelling to Lut Gholein. Would you mind if I followed along?"
"And who might you be?" Warriv turned around, addressing this queer cloaked man.
"I am Thalasi, a necromancer," he replied. "I may not have much funds, but I can protect your caravan from the demons that have been rumoured to be running around the country."
Warriv mulled over this for a few moments. He sized up the necromancer, his eyes darting to and fro, taking in every little detail. "Ok, you seem decent enough. I'll pay you to guard my caravan, as well. Of course, I'll be deducting the usual fare for mercenaries since I'm giving you a ride. How does that sound?"
"That sounds great," Thalasi replied.
"Get some rest. We leave with the dawn."
The rickety caravan rolled along the grassy plains. Thalasi sat in the driver's seat beside Warriv, keeping his eyes peeled on the road ahead and frequently glancing back to ensure that there were no monsters lurking, although he didn't feel his instinctive wariness coming up. Since the study of necromancy contained much about the dead and demonic powers, he could vaguely sense when a demon or undead monster was nearby.
The horses grunted and Warriv directed them over the next ridge. The cargo in the caravan jostled about as Warriv reined in the horses as he and Thalasi took in the sight before them.
Long logs were laid horizontally on the ground, piled up to become a wall. People could be seen scurrying around the meagre encampment in the hot afternoon sun, shoring up the walls, circling the encampment, and acting very hurriedly. A shrill whistle blew and the faces turned toward the ridge that Warriv's caravan was on. Even from so far away, Thalasi could hear the shouts and the battle orders emanating from the camp. Warriv clicked the reins and the horses moved toward the strange encampment. "This is strange," Warriv told Thalasi. "They have chosen a spot that is on the way to Lut Gholein. Couldn't they have rested at the monastery that overlooks the path through the montains?"
Warriv pulled the horses to a halt when they approached the campsite. Many faces peered through the walls to look at them. Warriv dismounted from the driver's seat and started to walk towards the encampment. Thalasi just remained where he was. Since Warriv was a merchant by trade, Thalasi figured that Warriv could be more diplomatic then himself, since he knew nothing much about bartering or trading,
A lady, wearing leather armour and a cloak and hood of blood red, armed with a longbow, stepped out to greet Warriv. She introduced herself as Kashya and questioned Warriv on his arrival. Thalasi leaned forward to try and catch what was being said but a glare from one of the sentries made him stop, and just wait for the conversation to be over. "These people seem very touchy," he thought to himself. "I wonder what skeletons they have in their closets?"
Warriv returned to the caravan after around 10 minutes. Thalasi was grateful he returned. The stares from the sentries were making him feel uncomfortable. "Kashya tells me that the way to Lut Gholein is blocked by one of Diablo's minions, the Madien of Anguish, Andariel. She had taken over the monastery and forced them to flee out here." Warriv drove the caravan into the encampment. "Over there is a lady in purple robes. Kashya told me to ask you to talk to her. They seem to want warriors to fight for them now," Warriv shrugged. "I told them that I was a plain merchant and they seemed disappointed, until I told them about you, whom I have hired to protect my caravan. Even though we did not encounter any monsters on the way, they still wanted to talk to you. I did not tell them about your necromancy yet, though."
"Thanks, Warriv. They might react violently when they see a necromancer. Not many people trust necromancers these days." Thalasi dismounted and approached the lady in purple. She was in discussion with Kashya. Thalasi waited patiently for them to finish.
"Welcome to the rogue encampment, necromancer," Akara greeted him. Thalasi was surprised that she could recognise that he practised necromancy. Kashya narrowed her eyes, but Akara continued, "We rarely get your kind here. I am Akara, leader of the sisters of the Sightless Eye. I am the only priest left after Andariel slaughtered our brethren."
"No wonder she knows I am a necromancer," Thalasi thought. Usually, differing schools of magic could tell when another practitioner was around. Maybe that was the uncomfortable feeling he felt earlier, not because of the rogue's stare.
"There is a place of great evil in the Blood Moor, where monsters have been gathering." Akara told him. She gestured around the camp. "We are preparing to hold off a siege. The many attempts Kashya tried to uproot the monsters have resulted in failure. We have lost many good warriors in battle." Akara bowed her head in reverence to the fallen. "With your abilities, you should be able to uproot the monsters massing there. Would you be willing to help us? In return, I can heal you and direct you to the monastery."
"Sure, no problem." Thalasi replied. Kashya eyed him suspiciously. "I'll go and look for the place right away."
"Before you go, take these." Akara filled his belt with healing potions and passed him 2 scrolls. Thalasi recognised the scrolls as a scroll of town portal and a scroll of identify. The scroll of town portal would magically invoke a portal back to this town. The other scroll would help him to identify items so he can be sure of their properties. "Thank you," Thalasi said and strode out of the camp, his wand at the ready.
"Are you sure we can trust him?" Kashya asked Akara. "Necromancers seem to have this aura of evil and betrayal."
"We have little choice," Akara replied.
Thalasi walked out of the encampment. His eyes scanned the moor in front of him, searching for that elusive cave. Looking up, he attempted to use the sun as a compass but it was close to noon and the sun was at its peak. "Damn," he muttered and set off away from the camp. He could feel the presence of many demons and undid monsters vaguely as he walked. Thalasi reasoned that when he came near the den or cavern where the monsters were gathering, he should be able to feel it.
A few minutes later, Thalasi spotted his first adversary, a slow moving zombie. Having studied death in his necromancy studies, Thalasi had little fear of the animated corpse. He studied his surroundings: a plain of grass. No trees, no obstacles. Nothing for a bone spirit to accidentally strike. Good. "Time for some practical," Thalasi grinned as he muttered the incantation for a bone spirit, the highest-level spell a necromancer can use. His master had shown him the power of the spirit, and he wanted to try it out for himself.
"raduno il thee, spirito del mondo nether, per aiutarlo …"
He finished the incantation and pointed his wand towards to zombie. "Mosca liberamente!" he yelled, and a wisp of smoke trailed out from his wand. Thalasi stared at his wand, dumbfounded, as the zombie approached him, attracted by his cry.
"Why didn't that work?" Thalasi asked out loud as the zombie loomed closer. Thalasi gritted his teeth and tried again, to a similar effect. "Damn! Why didn't it work? My incantation was correct, I'm sure it was!" He ground his teeth in frustration and swiped at the zombie with his wand. That just aggravated the zombie more, and it landed a solid punch on his chest. "Ow!" Thalasi muttered as he saw a crack appear on his bone armour. "This things sure can hit hard!" He sprinted to put some distance between himself and the zombie, closed his eyes, and tried to recall the session in which is master had shown him the spirit.
…
"Mosca liberamente!"
A circular ball appeared at the tip of the wand. There were wisps of white smoke trailing the end of the ball, like a human head with a few strands of hair. The bone spirit flew towards a tree, impacting solidly on the trunk. The tree seemed to wither as the spirit sucked at its life force. Once everything was drained from the tree, the spirit dissipated, and the tree crashed to the ground, rotten and lifeless.
"That was a bone spirit, young necromancer," Thalasi's master opened his eyes.
"That was powerful," Thalasi acknowledged. "When can I conjure that?"
"Only when you have enough experience." His master informed him. "This is a learning process. You can start by conjuring the minor spirits, such as the teeth of Trang'Oul. Only when you have learnt how to control and direct them well enough can you slowly progress up the skill tree and cast more powerful spells. You should not attempt to summon a spirit too early in your training. If you do not have enough experience, the spirit might just attack you instead of the target."
"Yes, master."
…
Thalasi's eyes blinked open. He obviously did not have enough experience as he just concentrated on theory in his study. "Here goes." Thalasi muttered the incantation for teeth, "Raduno il thee, trang'oul grande del drago, per conced…" and pointed his wand at the approaching zombie.
"denti doppi!"
Thalasi heard a clattering sound and then a whoosh as a pair of teeth flew towards the zombie, striking and felling the target. Thalasi grinned. "So, I cannot start with the higher level spells first, eh." He drew on his mana reserves and started to mutter the incantation to summon a skeleton from a freshly slain corpse, just like in the necropolis…
"Dalle viscere del mondo nether denomino il thee al mio servizio… aumento in su!"
A crackling black field appeared, covering the zombie corpse. Thalasi grinned manically as the corpse started to vibrate. Finally, it exploded, painting the ground red with blood and gore. A bone white skeleton rose up from the corpse. It wielded a sickle in its right hand and a battered shield in its left. Thalasi smiled. A sickle was his favourite weapon to equip his skeletons with. A fellow necromancer once tried to raise a skeleton with a bow, but forgot to give it arrows. Thalasi's skeleton promptly beat it to pieces with the bone sickle. Sensing more undead nearby, Thalasi slowly moved off from his first kill, disappearing into the afternoon haze.