Tile: Neglected

Fandom: Diablo II

Pairing: Necromancer/Flavie; Paladin/Flavie (One sided)

Warning: Dry humor; mild cursing; violence.

Summary: Flavie guards the path to the Cold Plains, always has since Andariel's appearance — but what happens when she meets a Necromancer?

Notes: This started out as a plot bunny because I love necromancers and I don't think people view them as such great characters. I wanted to do something a bit different then most were doing with these Diablo fictions, and I thought I'd start in Act One. I picked Flavie because she is my favorite character from the act. So here is my chaptered fiction on Flavie meeting a Necromancer. Reviews are welcome, but only if you wish to do it; I'm not going to beg.

Disclaimer: I owe nothing and if you think I do, then God thinks you're an idiot. What does this mean? I'm not extremely cool, do not sue me. Thank you.

Chapter One

The Meeting

The dark clouds hung over head in the night sky, covering the stars and moon from shining into the grassy field. The air was thick with moisture from the rain that fell heavily from the sky, exploding against anything that the droplets could land upon. Thunder could be heard dooming through the air, lightning striking and light up the night with its tricks. One lone figure stood in the grassy area; standing firmly between Blood Moor and the Cold Plains. The figure's eyes watching the surroundings like a predator watching for some sort of prey, fingers wrapped around the weapon that held tightly in the figure's grasp.

Soaked to the bone, Flavie looked woefully at her drenched bow string. She squinted against the rain as she remembers a time when she thought how her life would be. She been saved at a young and tender age by a sympathetic Akara, then trained under Kashya. She had learned the way of the bow quickly and earned much respect of the Rogues just as quickly. She had certainly thought life with the rogues would be a life of fantasy and action; she didn't believe that she would be guarding such a deadly place with nothing more to do.

But what would fairly young rogue be doing guarding this pathway? It was obvious there was a reason she had to stand there, and that reason was punishment. Flavie was quick to become angered, instigating several fights with other rogues. Then there was a man, a traveler in the camp named Gheed, that often sent her temper out of control. Kashya and the others decided that Flavie would be punished for it, forced to guard the pathway to the Cold Plains.

Now shivering a little against the cold, she kicked at the mud now forming at her feet. Her eyes snapped up the path, grimacing at the sight of the distant rogue camp. She bitterly hoped that maybe today she would get relieved from her duties, but she knew that no rogue would make their way down that path to relieve her. She knew that she would have to return to the camp in the morning though, to retrieve more supplies for her own little camp she had been creating out in the wilderness. Her small little camp was only a tent, only big enough for her, and a little fire pit that she used for cooking and what not.

Her cold form caught scent of rotting flesh, her nose crunching up a bit as her eyes moved to the side. She spotted a lumbering zombie to her right, followed by another one. They both made grunts as their slow moving form grew closer, Flavie frowned at the sight of the beings coming from Blood Moor. With much reluctance, she lifted the bow and placed an arrow into place; beginning to pluck arrow after arrow at one of the living dead. After a few messy hits, the zombie fell and the other came into her aim. Placing another arrow in its place, she pulled back the soaked string of her bow and aimed at the zombie's head — never getting to take the shot.

Out of nowhere a newcomer charged up to the zombie and it fell with a single swipe from his sword. His shield and armor gleamed and she stares in wonderment at a circular aura around his feet. She could tell right away what this man was, a holy man — a paladin. She had seen a few in her time, most of them seemingly righteous and rather annoying in her eyes. Though this man merely paused a moment by the now decomposing zombie and then began to trot towards her.

"Someone to talk to, at last!" Flavie almost grinned at this thought but then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She noticed the flag still waving above the fetid Den of Evil. "Hell no, he doesn't intend to wander into the Cold Plains just yet. Akara made me promise to warn everyone who attempted to go further without first vanquishing every foe in that place. I do intend on getting back into camp, and this is the only way — follow orders."

By the time she broke out of her thoughts, the dark skinned warrior was now face to face with her. She lowered her risen bow, to show she was not to harm him, and pulled herself up to her full height — which wasn't exactly tall. With a commanding tone, the young rogue met his gaze with the strength she was trained to seemingly have. "Halt! I must warn you — " But she was interrupted in mid sentence as the paladin simply broke her gaze, and ran off towards the Cold Plains. Never looking back, Flavie is left alone again in the pouring rain — her fingers tightening around the wooden bow.

"Well, I never!" Flavie snapped, almost whining as she watched. She could not believe what was happening, she was trying to help this holy man and he completely ignored her like she wasn't even there. Though it most certainly wasn't the first time something like this happened, which explained the corpses that littered the Cold Plains. She fumed as she wondered why no one listened to her advice to stay out of the area. "Of all the nerve of people!"

"I shouldn't have to put up with this kind of stuff," she thought to herself before turning gazing from the inviting camp and the direction the stranger had disappeared off to. She idly attempted to remember the last time she had a break from this duty, though after coming up empty handed, she turned her gaze back to the camp. "Should I? I mean, I will need supplies soon. It's obvious that I need to return to the camp very soon, but what about that fool? What if he needs my help and comes running back? I won't be here to do my duty."

She lowered her head and mentally cursed her duties. Not only did she have to guard the pathway and warn those who tried to use it, but if they needed her assistance, she had to help them. She then cursed her own anger issues, if it weren't for them she wouldn't be standing in the rain; she would be in a warm tent at the camp. She groaned inwardly, possibly even outwardly as well, and turned on her heels in the direction of the camp. She wanted so badly to just take off and run back to the camp, never returning to this dreaded place. Sighing, she knew the truth; she couldn't just go back. "This is utter stupidity."

"I must agree." A voice echoed out, startling the young rogue. "The Paladin has never been the sharpest dagger in the blacksmith's shed."

Flavie turned on her heels quickly, ready to tackle the owner of the new voice, if he were to try to pass her like his friend had. But much to her surprise, she was greeted by a tall and pale man, his very looks gave him away. He was a necromancer, one of the darker mages that now roamed to assist, and the skeletons surrounding his form just furthered the proof. She gaze at him, uncertain if she should rise her bow or not. She had heard many stories of what these men were able to do, how dangerous they were, and how they were as evil as the fiends that were slain. But she didn't rise her weapon, he didn't even make a movement towards her — neither did his summons.

His summons were slightly frightening to the rogue; she knew they were not evil, but those hallowed eyes were enough to send a shiver down her spine. The man before her didn't seem to notice her discomfort with his minions, found he did not cast them away nor did he inform them to go back. Though if he had noticed, he either didn't care or found her discomfort amusing — she would not doubt either. Necromancers were known to be cruel and uncaring of others, also known to be as heartless as the creatures that they slaughtered. Still Flavie stood her ground against all of the summons and the master of the dead himself.

She mumbled, "So he's with you, huh?"

She felt stupid for saying that. Of all the things she could have said to this stranger, she went with the most childish and awkward thing she could. Though much to her surprise the man didn't smile or laugh, his expression twisted in disgust for a moment then turned blank. "No, I only travel with he and his group. I am not part of it, nor am I with him. I am merely trying to get back to Kurast, and they were headed in that direction as well, at least that's what they told me."

"Oh," Flavie commented awkwardly. She shifted her weight and stared into the Cold Plains, a thoughtful look on her face. His words continued to echo for a bit, twisting and turning in her mind. A single thought entered her mind, and she felt the need to voice it. "I suppose, you are going to help around here? Or will you be turning back the way you came?"

The male frowned at the female, his green orbs flashing over her form. "No, we must move forward. We will be helping here until the evil is gone and we may move on."

"I see," she commented as she turned her gaze to the Necromancer once more. "So you will be staying in the camp then?"

He nodded, "Indeed. As long as I am welcomed within the camp, I will stay."

Flavie knew what the necromancer meant by his words, there was no need to question them. She knew the judgment that was placed on his kind, she was young but she was far from naïve or deaf. She had heard about the Necromancers from those at the camp, Gheed having been the most vocal when a mage wandered into the area. He studied them to ensure that they were not the dreaded dark ones, or at least that is what he called them, before welcoming the being. She had even seen such treatments coming from the others there, including the high priestess and her commander.

"Well then," she paused to place a free hand on her hip, swaying it to that side. "If they give you any problems, Sir Necromancer, remind them of which one of your group didn't halt when commanded. See how that tickles their fancy."

The Necromancer almost grinned at the girl's feistiness. He hadn't honestly expected something like that out of a woman, especially with a Paladin involved. After all, the rogues seemed fond of the paladin. Still he kept his calm and blank expression, something that could be called the trademark Necromancer expression. "I will have to remember to do that, Rogue."

"My name's Flavie." She pointed out with her normal sass, "Not Rogue."

"Flavie," He commented to himself, "That is something I shall remember myself. My name is—"

"MY LADY!" A voice rang out that broke through the necromancer's reply. All eyes drifted in that direction, noticing that the Paladin had been racing towards them. He only stopped between the Rogue and the necromancer. "Is this lowly being bothering you?"

Flavie snorted, "No, but you are."

The Paladin gave a shocked stare, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," she rolled her eyes and nodded towards the camp. "You two should be heading back. I'm sure that Akara is concerned about where you two are."

The Paladin nodded, "Of course, my lady. It is important that we head back right away, we do have a long day ahead of us. I shall meet with you again, young Rogue, I am sure. Necromancer! We cleanse the Den of Evil in the morning, Necromancer. Come now."

The other man merely grunted and started following after the Paladin, who had started walking the moment that he stopped talking. Flavie could have swore that she seen him glance over his shoulder at her, offering a light smile. However, she knew the ways of Necromancers, and knew that one doing such a thing to her would be rare. So there she stood alone, watching as the two heroes disappeared towards the camp to rest for their long day. But something hit her quickly.

Crap. I never got his name… Flavie thought bitterly, Just my luck.