A/N: This fanfiction is based on the official Demon Hunter short story 'Hatred and Discipline', which was made available on the Blizzard website at us. battle d3 /en/game /lore/short-story /demon-hunter/ (remove the spaces) and from which the characters of Josen and Valla are taken from.


Loaded Forbears

A series of vignettes about two demon hunters, in which there will be innumerable inside jokes and horrendous puns because I cannot help myself.


-1-

Tinkerer


Vrom did not look amused.

He was in actuality every bit as unamused as he looked, which went well with the approved standard-issue 'grim and sorrowful' expression the famed demon hunters of the Dreadlands were expected to adopt.

As for why he was not amused?

The veteran hunter in question had just been told he was going to be sent as backup to a novice hunter, who had apparently scuttled off on a self-imposed mission on the completion of her first solo hunt.

"I am not a babysitter, Josen."

Vrom scowled at his former mentor as he growled out the sentence. A firm believer in discipline, Vrom hadn't been shy about voicing his opinion on how a young apprentice hunter who had yet to master the shadow aspect of demon hunting had no business going off on her own on a one-man— or in this case, one-woman crusade.

"If Valla wants to go rocketing off to New Tristram in pursuit of some dazzling star or other—"

"Falling star," Josen corrected, infuriatingly unmoved by Vrom's vehement protests.

Unfortunately, his vehemence had no effect on Josen.

"Fine, falling star. As I was saying, I do not see the need to provide Valla with any reinforcement, particularly since she just vaulted off on her own without your consent. And without so much as a 'Bye Master Vrom, thanks for making all those bombs I used to save my life time after time again!' too," he added as a sullen afterthought.

Outwardly, Josen made no sign of emotion, but inwardly he sighed. Master Demon Hunter Vrom had always been considered something of a touchy oddball, even among the ranks of mentally-scarred demon hunters. The other demon hunters had learned quickly to tip-toe around his mercurial moods, which were as volatile as the explosive weaponry he created for the demon hunter organisation. However, they all put up with it because when it came to inventing and tinkering with bombs and traps, Vrom was without equal.

Fortunately, Master Hunter Josen had the mental fortitude of a rock and a slyness to equal the Prime Evils themselves. It was all part of the job requirement; his unyielding and unwavering insistence in getting his own way certainly was helpful when dealing with a bunch of emotionally-unstable, revenge-obsessed, trigger-happy people with dangerous projectile weaponry.

Anyway, the important thing here was, when Master Josen wanted something, he got it.

"Vrom," Josen repeated, with the trained patience of a true hunter, "there are undead rising in the town of Tristram. By all accounts, most of the people there have perished. The remaining survivors are desperate for any kind of help, and we should send someone to their aid."

"Well, Valla's already gone, hasn't she? This falling star business does not interest me. I have made plans to go to Caldeum, there is a merchant who managed to get his hands on a partially working Horadric construct that—"

"Did I mention there are lots of lots of undead and probably demons rampaging around in Tristram? Which you will be allowed to blow up with impunity and after which no one will complain?"

Vrom stopped his ranting and a gleam appeared in his eye. The only thing he liked more than working on his incredibly collateral damage-causing inventions was testing them out.

"It is imperative that we investigate the cause of the demonic disturbance there," Josen continued smoothly, sensing that his quarry had spotted the bait and was considering if it was worth taking. "My instinct tells me it could be something important and I would feel better if we had another, more experienced master hunter looking into it. You're the one I trust most to do this. Just keep an eye on Valla while you are there... I would prefer not to lose another promising young hunter to demonic corruption."

There was a sly look on Josen's face as his colleague snorted at the use of 'promising' to describe Valla. But Vrom had also remained silent and was actually listening.

Josen patiently waited for the response. He had trained Vrom after all, and he knew his former student extremely well. He could almost see the wheels turning in the tinkerer's mind, much like the the workings of the lethal contraptions for which Vrom was so well-known.

"Very well. If you insist, Master Josen," Vrom said 'grudgingly' at last.

The quarry had taken the bait and was being reeled in, willingly.

Of course, Vrom had still tried to sound stiff and cross as if he was only doing this as a favour to his senior. But it was just token resistance, it wouldn't do to display his newfound eagerness for the same mission he had previously scorned. Vrom's pride as a master hunter wouldn't allow him to simply admit he had been successfully manipulated by his former teacher. It was all part of the game they played.

But Josen smiled. Vrom would be going to Tristram. All would be well.

Sort of.

True, there probably wouldn't be any demonic corruption left in Tristram once Vrom was done with the place, but there was also a very real possibility it would be because Tristram had been blasted off the face of Sanctuary.

Josen shrugged.

Ah well... risks were risks after all.


Note from Phalanx: This is an old piece from last year I found in my folders while working on some of my other current fics. I don't think I've ever posted any of the stuff I've written for Diablo before. I figure I might as well put what I did have up since it's already written.

This isn't meant to be a serious story, more of a humourous take at contrast between the gritty lore of Diablo III vs gaming reality.