Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo, or any associated characters, as they are property of Blizzard Entertainment. However, any original characters or events belong to me.

CHAPTER 1

Let Faith Guide My Hand

"Our business in the field of fight, is not to question, but to prove our might."

- Alexander Pope

Judging from the sun's high position in the sky, Argus estimated it to be around half past noon when he entered the village of Windsong. A small farming community on the outskirts of the Western Kingdoms, Windsong was normally filled with cheery faces and hard-working farmers. The paladin recalled when last he had visited the pleasant village, it was swarming with frolicking children and stray animals. This time, however, the paladin had entered the town only to find an eerie silence broken only by short gusts of howling winds.

The paladin himself wasn't the biggest or most imposing man, but every inch of him beneath his steel armor was pure muscle, with skin stretched tightly against well defined muscles. He had an average complexion and short blonde hair tucked beneath his helm. His features were narrow and round, his cheeks sunken from fasting. At his hip a long sword at least the size of his arm rested in it's scabbard. His left hand was wrapped around the handle of his shield, which was triangular in shape, ending in a very distinct point at the bottom. His alert, ocean blue eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of life.

In the distance, Argus could see swaying patches of grain and corn as they danced in the wind. Yet, the paladin sensed a mourning in their dance and could clearly see they hadn't been tended in the past few days. As he made his way further into the village, he discovered why.

Fallen corpses of slain townsfolk littered the dusty trail leading through the village. Argus saw entrails spread across the ground, lying in pools of crimson blood that seeped into the dirt below. If it hadn't been for his strict training, the knight may have cringed at the gory scene, but years of harsh battles and even worse experiences allowed the paladin to keep himself composed.

Further and further he went, bending down to check the pulse of each victim he passed. He said a prayer to the Light after discovering the passing of all he found. From what he could see, most victims had been run through with sword blades, some cut so many times they were hardly recognizable.

Kneeling next to a fallen child, the paladin put his fingers to the toddler's neck and felt for any signs of life. Having found none, he drew a line in the air with his hand and crossed it in prayer. As he was about to speak the holy words of mourning, the sound of a deeply drawn breath caught his attention. Immediately, the paladin was on his feet and running toward where the sound had come from.

Cutting behind a small house and crossing a makeshift path that led to a field of grain, Argus spotted the visage of a bleeding man. A cough of blood assured the paladin he had not been hearing things. It also assured him he did not have much time. He would have to act soon if he hoped to save this man.

The man was adorned in worn overalls stained with his own life fluids. A series of gashes surrounded a hole in the man's stomach where a blade had been stuck, then pulled free.

Upon seeing the approaching paladin, only a small flicker in his eyes signified his recognition.

"Good God man, what happened?" Argus asked, bending down and applying pressure to the man's stomach to try and staunch the bleeding.

"I…just…got back f-f-from a hunting trip," he choked out, blood running from his mouth like a river. His bloodshot eyes dilated and he slumped over in pain.

The paladin began praying to the Light for mercy on this poor man when suddenly he spoke again.

"I . . . f-f-ound my family," he pointed toward the house nearest them. "They were all….dead. I tried to escape, but…."

"But what?" Argus asked. "Who did this?"

Still struggling to survive, the man cringed in pain as a fresh stream of crimson slithered down his chin. It was too late to save him. Somehow, the dying farmer managed to raise an arm and with obvious effort, extend a finger over the paladin's shoulder. With that, his body went limp and he collapsed. Argus caught his head just before it would've hit the ground, then set it lightly where it would've fallen.

A shadow blocked the sun, and at first the paladin thought it was only cloud cover, until a deep sense of dread ran up his spine.

In a single fluid motion, he drew his long sword and spun to his feet. The gleaming blade, nearly as pristine as his armor, seemed to hiss a warning as it slid from it's scabbard.

As he turned, he caught his first glimpse of his opponent. Skeletal in appearance, the undead warrior's murderous gaze was made even more frightening by the scarlet colors emanating from it's eyes. Above it's head, the reanimated fighter held a two-handed great sword, it's blade serrated and curved at the end. The skeleton wore iron armor dotted with rust spots. The fiend's helm had two bull-like horns jutting from it's sides.

Argus brought his shield up just in time to block the skeleton's first slash. The impact of the attack, however, made him drop his shoulder low. The skeleton saw it's opening and swung again. The blade bit into the paladin's shoulder armor. Luckily, the blow only managed to scratch the surface of his flesh.

As the skeleton went to wrench free it's weapon, Argus thrust his long sword forward. His blade went right under the skeleton's armor and tore through the fiend's rib bones. An inhuman cry came from his undead adversary.

Finally pulling free it's weapon, the skeleton swung it's sword back, preparing for another powerful blow. But Argus wasn't about to fall prey to the same attack twice. As his opponent began to swing toward him, Argus closed in, bashing the skeleton's arms aside with his shield. The paladin followed up with a quick slash at the undead fighter's elbow. His blade cut through the bone like a knife through butter and the skeleton reeled back, missing an appendage.

Seizing his newfound upper hand, Argus ducked down and kicked at his opponent's heels. The skeleton collapsed under the pressure and hit the ground. Quickly coming to his feet, Argus firmly planted a foot on his adversary's remaining arm and sheathed his sword.

Words of power formed on his lips, words that beckoned to the High Heavens themselves. As he continued his incantation, Argus held his hand toward the skeleton. Finally, screaming the final word, the paladin cast his spell. Pure righteous energy leapt from his hand in a flash of light. The bolt was a vessel of life, which made it the bane of the undead. The second the blast struck it's target, the skeleton was consumed by the light and burned to cinders.

Argus stepped back and watched as the ashes that remained disintegrated into the air. With contempt, the paladin praised the Light and headed back toward the center of the village. His senses were telling him this wasn't the only evil in Windsong that needed to be purged. Reanimated warriors needed something to control them. Either one of the foul necromancers Argus had heard about, or a demon with necromantic powers. Whichever was right, Argus vowed he'd avenge the villagers that had fallen. Justice would come swift and without mercy.

As he charged down the village's main trail, Argus caught sight of two more skeletons. The undead soldiers carried shields and wicked-looking maces. The skeletons immediately caught sight of the paladin and with demonic cackles began toward him. Each soldier took a position on either of his sides and began slowly strafing in a circle, closing in with each pass.

With a metallic hiss, the paladin's sword was drawn. Argus turned in sync with his opponents, keeping both in his line of view. He guarded against one with his shield, the other with his sword, anticipating an attack any second.

Just as he had expected, both skeletons lunged forward at once. Argus leaned toward the one to his left and used his shield to knock the soldier's attack to the side. As he did, his second opponent swung it's spiked mace.

Argus parried the blow with his long sword and kicked the reanimated warrior's leg, causing the skeleton to falter. One swing of his sword wrenched free the burden of the skeleton's skull. The rest of the body crumpled into a pile of bone and armor.

His first opponent had now recovered and readied a second swing, this time aiming much higher. As Argus ducked under the blow, he felt a small amount of pressure lift from his skull, but lunged forward nonetheless. With a quick thrust, the paladin beheaded the undead soldier. Just as with the first one he slew, this skeleton became a useless pile of bone and steel. Looking down, he noticed the skeleton's attack had knocked off his helmet, leaving it dented and broken. The paladin left it discarded, the feeling of the wind was relaxing anyway.

Now breathing heavily from over exertion, Argus confidently continued down the trail and toward the outskirts of the village.

The city of Westmarch, named after the kingdom in which it resided, was full of life this day. The streets were packed with activity, each marketplace and trading post swamped with business. Cyndia, or Cyn, as she liked to be called, pushed through the ceaseless crowds. Her slim, curvy figure drew the attention of many wandering eyes, but she strode confidently and with her head held high. Her flowing black hair hung down to her shoulders and matched her dark complexion perfectly. Her dark brown eyes were outlined by her long eyelashes. She wore a dark blue top made of velvet that held her bosom up tightly, further enhancing her appeal to the opposite sex and she also wore a matching skirt.

Where other women would say she was scantily clad, Cyn would say she was allowing her body full range of motion. She needed to be able to move quickly and without any obstructions if she was going to be able to cast her spells effectively and properly dodge incoming attacks. She was a Zann Esu, a female mage more commonly called a sorceress. Since she was seven, she had been trained by the finest witches in Sanctuary to wield the powerful magic of the elements. She had been taught that her magic was the best and she should ever strive to prove that fact. When the rumor of one of the Prime Evils reappearing had spread, she had come to Westmarch to confirm it.

So far though, she had only heard useless rabble that was probably a warped form of the truth. Some said that after the defeat of Diablo, the Lord of Terror, peace had been restored and recent demon attacks were only the result of reckless abandon by the Prime Evil's remaining minions. Others, however, spoke a tale far more horrific. It had been said that Diablo's brother, Baal, the Lord of Destruction, had made his triumphant return to Sanctuary. If this was true, it meant Cyn could prove her, and her clan's, ultimate dominance over all the other mages by defeating the demon.

Her mind momentarily lost in her own thoughts, the sorceress failed to see the approaching caravan. The horse drawn wagon struck her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. The stone street cutting into her exposed flesh, the female mage uttered a curse in temper. In response, the wagon burst to flame. Only after hearing the screams of frightened men and horses did the sorceress recognize her folly. Her magic had reacted to her anger and set the wagon ablaze.

Cyn rose to her feet and ran to the burning wagon. With a small amount of concentration, she put out the magical flames. The surrounding crowd watched.

"Witch! She set the wagon aflame!" a man yelled. The crowd began stirring.

"No-I-I didn't mean to!" Cyn started.

Just then, a city guard pushed through the crowd.

"What's going on here?" the armored man asked.

"It's her, that foul magic-user tried to burn me!" the wagon driver yelled accusingly.

"If I hadn't put out the flames just as quickly then I would've succeeded, it was obviously an accident, I-" but the sorceress was cut off.

"You are under arrest by Imperial decree!" the city guard proclaimed, drawing his sword. "Come peacefully and there will be no trouble."

"You don't understand" Cyn begged. "I would never do something like this on purpose."

"I've had enough of your defiance!" the guard bellowed. "This is your last warning!"

Cyn watched the man as he shifted his weapon into a more offensive stance. Despite the guard's threat, the sorceress remained defiant.

"I will pay for the damage, there's no need for this!" she exclaimed.

"Then you leave me no choice, I will have to take you by force!" the guard yelled a battle cry and charged forward.

"You would do well not to advance any further" Cyn said, her voice suddenly deeper and more threatening. The guard stopped in his tracks. He snickered.

"Foolish maiden, you would seek to threaten me?" he taunted. "That merely gives me a second charge to bring against you! Not to mention a second reason to slay you should you resist!"

Cyn's eyes went dark, like swirling black holes. Her loose hair rose like the tentacles of a kraken, whipping this way and that in an imaginary breeze. The sorceress coolly raised a hand and beckoned the guard forward with one finger.

The man hesitated. Then, cautiously, took a step toward her.

With that, Cyn muttered an incantation and threw her hands forward as if to cast some destructive spell. The guard flinched, ducking behind his shield. The crowd shuddered.

But when nothing happened, the guard rose to his feet only to find that the sorceress had vanished into thin air. Frustrated, the man tossed down his shield and screamed in anger.

Atop the nearest tavern's roof, Cyn flashed a smile before turning and vanishing into the wind.

A/N: It's been a while since I last posted on this site, but I'm back! Drop me a review if you got the time. If not, I'll just have to be disappointed.