Thanks to all the kind people who reviewed!! Wow… it's really going up! Don't give me too much credit… if you want to see improvements, do say so. This chapter's long… be prepared.
Disclaimer: I'm getting sick of this… I would be GAMING instead of WRITING by now if I owned anything!! But no Blizzard just HAS to own everything, including Diablo III which isn't gonna come out in a while…
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Chapter 6: Remnants of Horror
The first thing I sensed was the damp darkness… a stark contrast to the bright blazes that I remembered, the suffocating heat, the flames that engulfed my home, evaporating all the moisture, even that in blood, leaving only dark, charred stains behind.
My eyes snapped open. It was night. Rain was beating against the fabric of the tent, trailing down the outside, before dissolving into the water-logged earth. How could I see that in the dark? There was a fire, of course.
I turned my head towards the flame, set up outside the tent, where a piece of material extended from the tent and over the fire. This flames unlike the one in my dream; it was warm, reassuring, comforting.
Beside the flame sat my master, Oread. Her armour was laid beside the flame, and her undergarments – a close-fitting cream-coloured top which I took that she wore under her armour, and her black tights – hanged on the other side of the fire. In the glow of the fire, I could see that Oread was dressed in a plain, long, dark dress, with a wide collar, and a thin leather sash as a belt. Her hair was out, and looked wet.
I understood that this was not the Rogue Encampment. I sat up. Oread merely looked at me; her eyes shifted to meet mine, and they remained there.
'I'm sorry.' My voice rasped. My throat was dry and sticky.
'If it helps to know,' Oread got to her feet, came beside me and pushed a mug of warm broth in my hands, the steam rose up and I sipped it hungrily. 'I buried that Rogue. I've set up camp here, because we're nowhere close to a waypoint.'
'Is that why you're wet?' I was slightly shocked that Oread would do that for me. 'Because you've been digging in the rain?' She did not respond. I suddenly remembered; 'Why didn't you use a Town Portal?'
'We're close to the Monastery, and we don't know what's in there. It's better to save them.'
'Can't you just go back to the Encampment and buy another one?'
'Because I'm stingy.' She replied quickly. Not expecting such a response, I was silenced. 'Now, tell me…' She sat down beside me, her eyes studying my face, scrutinising my expression. 'What was all that about? The last thing I need now is baggage, and that includes emotional ones. I need you to be ready to go in there, otherwise…' She paused, her gaze shifted for a split second. 'Otherwise I'll have to fire you as my merc and do this by myself.'
That shocked me so that I almost spilt some of my broth. She really was brusque in her words. 'No! I'm…' I swallowed. 'I'll get over it. I want to fix this! That was my… my mother out there. I just… couldn't force it away.' I was aware that a tear or two had escaped, and wondered what Oread was thinking right now. 'I'm sorry for my weakness. Please, please let me go with you! I won't fail again, I swear! I won't be weak again…' I was sobbing by now. I hated it.
Oread sighed, and put a hand on my shoulder. 'Don't condemn the situation, Celadon.' Something in that voice caused for me to lift my head; I looked into her eyes, and saw her apathetic façade crumble a little, a tiny bit of sadness seemed to have come onto her face. 'It's only what you make it. You can choose to fall and stay down, calling this that you're feeling a weakness, and sulk about it,' she lifted her head, I subconsciously followed; 'or you can turn it into a motivation to give you strength, to get up and do something to make amends for it.'
I was taken aback; she was right. 'So, which is it? Do I keep you or fire you?'
'I've sworn to you as your mercenary.' I replied. 'I don't have the right to decide that, but if you do allow me the privilege of doing so… please allow me to stay with you.'
'Good.'
The next morning, the rain had ceased into a gentle drizzle. I paid homage to my mother at her grave. As I grieved over the past, I also felt hope for the future seeping into me – I was going to accomplish what my mother had died for. I was going to restore the glory of the Rogues.
'You ready then?' Asked Oread, as we stood before the huge wooden gates to the Monastery, concealing the evil within its ancient walls.
I nodded, and, with Oread taking the right gate and I taking the left, we kicked the gates open in unison.
Immediately, a guts of wind gushed out of the Monastery, carrying with it the intermingled stenches of death, burnt things, toxins, mould and decay; but there were more… there was the smell of fear and evil, which overwhelmed me. I felt my stomach churn and tightness in my throat, which I tried my best to get rid of by swallowing.
'You really ready?' Asked Oread, talking to me, though looking intently towards the origins of the vile stench. I nodded slowly, trying to calm my stomach. Oread nodded back. 'Come on.'
She stepped in, and I followed reluctantly. We were immediately greeted by a large group of monsters of all sorts, from Devilkins to Yetis to skeletal Returned Mages wielding balls of fire. I cowered, backing a few steps away, before realising what I was doing, and cast Inner Sight, followed by an assortment of both enchanted and uncharged arrows.
Suddenly, a fireball came straight towards me. It was so fast that I barely dodged it, but after I did dodge that one, another one came. I gritted my teeth, and prepared to take it on. It was too fast for me to avoid.
'Celadon!' Oread's voice called, and to my amazement, the fireball slowed, as if I was watching it in slow motion. I sidestepped, and the fireball exploded behind me. 'Step back!' Oread ordered, and forced me away from the crowd of monsters, putting herself between them and me.
'Oread!' I was both angry and scared for her. There she was again, protecting me, her worthless mercenary.
'Don't worry. I'll need to try this out sooner or later.' She nocked an arrow, and I witnessed its head burst into flame, just like a Fire Arrow, but the flames spat out sparkling specks of embers. She let it loose, and it landed upon a Yeti, before letting out a violent explosion upon impact, killing the Yeti, and injuring several others beside it. Oread fired another few of those arrows, and the monsters lied dead in a pile, their flesh charred and burnt, making the smell even worse.
I did not know what to say. It was so impressive.
'Exploding Arrow.' Oread stated, an obscure grin coming onto her lips. 'You like it?'
'It was very impressive.' I replied. 'Can you teach it to me?'
'When you're more advanced and have better magical and physical skills, perhaps. At the moment, it'll be too much for you to handle yet.' I was slightly disappointed, but I was also excited for the upcoming training.
And the other… 'Oh, what happened to that fireball the mage flung at me? Was it just me, or was it slowed?'
'It's an Amazonian skill.' Oread explained. 'Known as Slow Missiles, which is self-explanatory enough. It's a spiritual skill, using will power to decrease the momentum of missiles…' she went onto explaining, but gave up after a few more seconds, noting the confused look I was giving her. She jerked her head around. 'So, this is the Monastery… it's nice.'
I noted some irony in that, and somewhat grew a little angry at her for such a comment, which I took as insulting. I noted a waypoint, and lighted it. 'Are we taking a trip back?'
'Might as well, but we're gonna be quick. Get supplies on arrows and potions, a trip to both Akara and Charsi for repairs, and we're off again. We're gonna finish the Smith off on this trip.'
We did as she said. Charsi asked about the Horadric Malus, and was glad when I told her that we were close. As she repaired my armour, I paid a visit to Kashya, who was both surprised and relieved to see me back.
'You've come so far!' She gave me a tight hug. 'Are you hurt? She's not abusing you, is she?'
'Captain Kashya, I'm fine. She's a good master.' I had to defend Oread; she was better than a good master… she was more of a teacher to me. 'Don't you trust her? I thought you did when you gave me to her as a mercenary. You only give away mercenaries to those warriors who've proved their worth by defeating Blood Raven…'
'Yes, but this one,' Kashya glanced out of the tent, towards Oread, who was stashing away some gold and a few clipped gems into her large trunk; 'this is an Amazon I'm talking about, and they usually get rid of mercenary Rogues as soon as possible.' Her eyes swept through the tent, at the few Rogues that had returned after accompanying warriors as mercenaries, now scarred and even maimed. 'And this Amazon… there's something strange about her, don't you think? They usually come with flair and ego, but this one…'
'Her name's Oread.'
'Well, Oread… seems different. She doesn't smile, she doesn't make smart, flirty comments, and she doesn't strut around in skimpy armours.'
'Is that bad, then?'
'I'm not saying it's bad...' Kashya's voice lowered. 'I'm just saying that she's… different. She's not the usual warrior we're used to, is she? I'd be careful around her.'
Oread closed her trunk and walked off, but not before throwing a quick glance toward us, which I caught. I sighed. 'Well… Captain Kashya,' I looked at her, looked straight into her dark grey eyes, and felt my defiance flare up; 'You've always taught me about the most important quality in a mercenary.'
Her face fell. She knew what it was, of course – loyalty. I continued. 'I'm her mercenary now, and I'll fulfil my duty as mercenary.'
'Hey, I hope I'm not disturbing.' Oread's voice rang out, followed by the sound of me catching my repaired armour and boots. 'I want this over with. Charsi's bugging me for the Malus. Let's go.' Ignoring Kashya's head turned toward her, Oread whipped around and walked off.
'Good day, Captain Kashya.' I took a bow toward Kashya, and ran off after Oread, ignoring the eyes boring into the back of my head.
We slowly advanced towards the core of the Monastery, carefully opening door and retreating to fight, opting for ranged attacks. There were a number of corpses on the way, some of foreign warriors, but mostly Rogues', including one I recognised as my cousin's. I felt the sorrow in my heart, the sickness I my guts, but nothing escaped from me. I was strong enough to hold myself together now. I would not be a burden anymore.
We finally found the door to the Barracks after killing a few other tens of monsters. Upon entering the Barracks, tens of monsters exploded into our sights, forcing us to retreat back into the Outer Cloister to take them down. Oread's Slow Missiles skill really came in handy, as the Mages and Magis grew stronger in number, wielding not only fire, but also ice, lightning, and poison. She commanded for me to take care of the other monsters, while she took the Magis down. As I watched, she seemed to have advanced in her agility as well as her weaponry and magical skills; not only was she able to dodge close-ranged attacks, she also avoided many of the missiles from the Magis with grace.
A few antidotes, thawing potions and a large number of both red and blue potions later, we managed to escape relatively alive, thanks to the many barrels of alcohol we stored in here, and thank goodness they appeared to be emptied, drunk by the monsters that had overtaken this place. Having killed the mass of monsters, Oread found herself a new bow and some new gloves, as well as a belt with more compartments. She equipped herself with them, giving her old bow, gloves and belt to me, and filling both our belts with potions.
As we scouted through the Barracks, leaving a trail of bloodied bodies of monsters behind as remnants of our battles, I felt safe, somehow… despite the darkness and death surrounding us. I was with Oread, my dependable master, whom I have placed all my trust into, probably much more than what she had placed in herself.
The Barracks was nothing as I remembered; it was dim, the torches upon the walls long since distinguished. This place, which was my favourite place for playing with my childhood friends and finding things that adult Rogues stored away, had become a place for brewing evil, a home of darkness. The mysterious yet exciting spirit from my memories of this place was gone, replaced by a distilled aura of fear and doom.
And that aura grew stronger and stronger, until we were greeted by a dark, rumbling voice, almost humming, 'I'll make something from your bones…'
It sent shivers down my spine, shook me from within. The Smith.
I helped Oread kill the last few of the Magis, and followed her steps backwards. I noticed that she was chanting some incantations, and when she finished, a portal appeared behind her.
'You have enough arrows?' She asked. I checked with my hand, and before I could answer, she had already tossed me a full quiver. I quickly took my old one off, grabbed the remaining four arrows, and strapped the new, full one on.
'Hit him with Ice Arrows, and then just run for it.' Oread dictated her plan. 'We're both going for range this time, understand? Keep running from him. From what I've learnt from Charsi, he's a tough and powerful one.'
We did as she told, firing arrow after arrow. I kept casting Inner Sight, illuminating his weak spots, hitting his neck and joints with Ice Arrows, while Oread's Exploding Arrows landed sporadically. I kept backing off, but tripped over the remains of a Magi. The Smith went straight for me.
'Oh no, you don't!' Oread took out her spear, and to my to my amazement, mustered enough strength in one arm to send it soaring through the air. It landed into the thick, bulging back of the Smith, who roared in pain, and changed his target. He was running towards Oread.
I cursed myself for my carelessness, and, clenching my teeth, I took out the sword Oread gave me, and beat the Smith to Oread, who was not backing off quickly enough. Her spear now lodged in the Smith, she was in a vulnerable position; despite her continuous stream of arrows, the Smith was advancing on her quickly.
But I was swifter than the Smith. I positioned myself in front of Oread, and as the Smith threw a punch at her, a small hammer in his hand, my sword moved toward the strike.
And the hand sliced right off. The Smith roared as blood spurted out of the stump of his wrist, covering my face. My eyes were blinded by a veil of crimson as I felt the impact of his other fist, smashing into my chest, breaking bones, tearing tissues and rupturing organs.
Oread and I hit the wall behind us. The last thing I heard after collapsing onto the floor was Oread's yell and the final, echoing roar of the Smith.
The Horadric Malus was right before my eyes, sitting upon the open palm of the Smith's huge amputated hand. I reached for it, and my body heaved and blood splashed out of my mouth. Upon touching the small, sturdy form, my body gave in.
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Oread has passed level 12 now, and was smart enough to save her skill points. I know this built of the Amazon is not recommended, being both a Bowazon and a Spearazon, while concentrating most on the Passive and Magic Skills… but this is based on my first D2LoD character, and by the time she reached level 50, she was doing all right.
Ooh… I don't remember the layout of the Monastery very well now… please excuse any inaccuracies.
Credits to The Phrenologikal Cat for teaching me the word "brusque"! Thanks for the Quill Rat plushie! I love your Druid! I'm also grateful for ALL the other reviewers: Dromiceius (my loyal critic who writes great stuff himself), Dragonfighter12 (who writes a GREAT fic on the Druid and the Zon), Uruquiel2, and hernz (whose D2 fic is amongst the best for a laugh). I strongly recommend their fics!
