I have written this at the very start of Act II when things looked very very different indeed.

Original premise:
The gang has been reunited in Act II through some insane adventure, and by Act III's time they would have moved in with Tyrael to... do something, I have no idea.
This outtake would have been part of the first chapter of the former Act III. Act III would have still featured Quiet and Tyrael out in the wilds (again, apparently) and at the mercy of Rathma through some means, only they would have also been supported by Zayl and Humbart eventually.

Training Dummy

The day started out with Lyndon's coat going on a tour on its own around the house.

To be frank, all of the Horadrim silently dreaded this morning. Lyndon had them all promise that they would look after Quiet while the scoundrel slipped away at dawn into the city. Today was Quiet's first birthday, and the con artist wished to buy a gift for his charge. Hence his disappearance and hence the unease of the entire Horadrim. Only Tyrael was somewhat calm, having travelled almost all over Sanctuary with the little angel before.

Yawning widely, Lorath opened the door of his dorm, ready to start the day. His disheveled blonde hair resembled a haystack. Lyndon's brown coat chose this moment to slither by right before his nose on the corridor, long sleeves and tail dragging on the floor. Lorath stared at the animated piece of clothing peacefully wandering by then disappearing behind a corner towards the main stairs.

- Nevermind – the young man sighed deeply, before closing his door and flinging himself back into his bed.

In the meantime the coat continued its way down the stairs with some difficulty, huffing and puffing with great intent. There was a larger bulb in the center of it that seemingly guided the whole thing.

Near the stairs stood a cupboard of plates and bowls, and on its shelf rested a jawless, mostly toothless skull. It suddenly snorted as it saw the clothing slithering by, and called out loudly.

- Zaaaayl! My lad, we have a possessed coat around here!

The necromancer stuck his head out from a nearby room, looking only slightly crossed that his meditation had been bothered. It quickly melted into slight surprise as he saw the robe scuttling across the hall and he quickly went after it. The coat chuckled and swooped faster, forcing the necromancer to break into a light jog before he could grab the edge of it and lift it up.

Quiet giggled as he looked at Zayl.

- Quiet, what are you doing? – the necromancer asked, placing the coat onto a chair.

- 'M playing that I'm Leenndon! – the little angel announced proudly, before looking a bit more lost. – Where is he?

- He… said he had an important task in the city.

- Drinks, ladies, dice! All that good stuff – Humbart, the skull chimed in from the other end of the hall.

Zayl lifted the coat from the chair, walked over there and covered the complaining skull with it, earning another chuckle from Quiet.

- He is away on business – the necromancer turned back to the angel. – It would take up most of the day, I believe.

Next to the dreaded task of watching over the child with godlike powers, Lyndon also asked them to cover for him and to not tell Quiet what day it was.

- Aww – Quiet's wings drooped. – I wanted to play, though.

- I am certain you will find someone you can play w—

The little angel quickly attached himself to the leg of the necromancer and looked up to him with pleading eyes:

- Can you show me magic tricks?

- Those are not tricks, Quiet – Zayl protested, trying to find a way to pass the child to someone else.

- But I like your magic! It's really neat. Can you show me?

- I—

- Pppppleeeeease!

Zayl mumbled a harmless curse at Lyndon (he really really had to watch his wording, else it would turn into an actual curse), then sighed in defeat.

- Ha! You done screwed up, my lad! – Humbart laughed from under the coat.

- At least you stay silent – Zayl grumbled as he retrieved the skull and followed the energetic angel outside into the inner courtyard.

As much as he was personally not cut out for such a social task, Zayl couldn't really stay annoyed at the kid, nor could he ignore his promise to Lyndon. The man was a good addition to the team, a great Guardian to Quiet, and overall a dependable comrade. Not to mention a hero on his own right. The least the Horadrim could do was take over one task from him for one day.

Surely, it couldn't be that hard, even for a necromancer. At least… Zayl hoped so. Herding the living Worldstone around the courtyard was still very surreal for him, however.

- Can you show me? – Quiet bounced around happily, little wings eagerly flapping in rhythm with his jumps.

- Only if you behave – Zayl said sternly, setting down Humbart onto the edge of the well.

Above them towered the giant statue of Tyrael's angelic form, courtesy of Quiet some months ago.

The little angel quickly quieted down and sat in the dust, red eyes not once leaving the necromancer. Only his fluttering wings gave away (completely) his excitement. It only occurred to Zayl now that he had no idea what he should show. Most of the Rathmian magic was actually anything but spectacular. It required a lot of murmuring, a lot of gesturing with the dagger and often times extra tools like vials, bone and blood, but it did not result in flashy lights and explosions like in the case of wizards.

- What do you want me to show you? – Zayl asked, standing before the angel.

- It is funny when you draw with the dagger in the air – Quiet giggled. – I can see the lines it leaves! You like circles, right?

- Circles are an important symbol, yes – Zayl nodded, absentmindedly tracing the form with his dagger in the air.

He himself did not see the line the angel claimed, but he was hardly surprised by this fact: Quiet was no mortal, and he was the farthest thing possible from an ordinary angel as well.

- What's it for? – Quiet stared at the drawing in the air.

- It can mean many things, in tandem with our spells. Most of the time it is "protection" for a defensive spell, "eternity" to power a spell, or "perfection" to focus my effort into something – Zayl explained, recalling the teachings of his master from a long long time ago.

Quiet absentmindedly shaped a wooden ring out of the dust around him, and turned it into steel.

- Why is it "protection"? – he asked, twisting and turning his creation around in his hands.

- That is a good question – Zayl finally sat on the ground as well, pondering. – It may just originate from human belief but, as history had shown time and time again, this belief is enough to give it power. Some say it represents a boundary, and the more perfect it is, the stronger that boundary is against any and all intrusion. Many protective circles lose their power immediately, should their contour be disrupted by its user in any way.

- That is bad protection, then – Quiet frowned a little.

- It relies heavily on the willpower and focus of the user, yes – Zayl nodded.

After a brief pause, Quiet dismissed the ring into nothing.

- I want to see the needles! – he exclaimed happily.

- What was that? – Zayl raised an eyebrow.

- I would like to see the needles… please?

- Good.

The necromancer stood up and readied the Teeth of Trag'Oul. Usually he would have denied such requests that demoted his abilities into circus acts, but this was a different case altogether. The bone spears materialized in the air and shot out with the speed of a diving bird of prey, embedding themselves into the nearest stone pillar.

- So cool! – Quiet clapped, happily jumping up from the ground and rushing there to examine the very much real spikes.

Zayl exhaled loudly returning to the well.

- You are doing well, lad. What are you so upset about? – Humbart mumbled.

- I am not cut out for this…

- Could have fooled me. Although the explaining part was boring and dry as a mid-summer field, I agree.

Zayl let the remark go while he recollected himself. He was doing rather fine for these… few minutes. He could do this for a bit longer then pass the child onto someone else around the house while he caught a break. Yes, that sounded like a good—

The dreaded feeling swept through him like a wave. The necromancer staggered, grabbing the leg of the statue for support. The sudden violent disruption in the Balance sent his head into a spinning daze, almost as if an explosion sounded just before his legs without physically hurting him. Something dealt a terrible blow to the Balance, and he had to act quickly and trace the source to…

… to Quiet?

Zayl shook his head, staring blankly at the little angel at the end of the courtyard. He dimly registered Humbart calling out to him, but he felt like he suddenly sank underwater. The source of the disruption was clearly the little angel and it blazed like a funeral bonfire in the middle of the night. The necromancer's every instinct screamed at him to bounce and eliminate the threat, but his brain could not make sense out of it. Why this, why now?! What happened?!

With great effort, Zayl tore himself away from the warning, forced to shut down most of his senses in the process.

- Zayl? Zayl! Lad, what's gotten into you?! – Humbart almost shouted at him, making Quiet turn around and look strangely at the necromancer.

- I… need to go now – Zayl managed to choke out, then grabbed Humbart and quickly stormed inside.

He stomped into the library, running into Tyrael.

- Zayl? You look disturbed – the fallen angel frowned at him in worry.

- Tyrael, I must leave for a short time – the necromancer said, stuffing the complaining skull into his pouch.

- So soon? Why?

- I… need to sort a few things out and for that, I will need to find a worthy place to meditate.

- Uhm… alright. If you believe it's best for you – Tyrael nodded curtly, having long since learnt the sometimes weird ways of the necromancers.

- Thank you – Zayl returned the gesture. – Quiet is in the courtyard. Can you look out for him?

- I reckon I can – Tyrael tried to say, but the Rathmian was already marching out of the library, disappearing.

With a sigh, the fallen angel followed suit, checking on Quiet. The little angel looked lost for a second, but then he quickly crouched down and began shaping small figurines out of the ground with the clear intent of busying himself somehow.

Tyrael sat down at the long dining table in the hall with his book, sinking back into it. Things appeared to be normal, and whatever had thrown off Zayl a little, it was probably nothing the necromancer couldn't handle. The fallen angel freely sank back into his reading, not even realizing how lost he got in it.

That is, until Quiet crashed into him at the speed of a crossbow bolt.

oooOOOooo

Quiet didn't really understand why Zayl had to leave so fast and so soon, but he eventually had an idea against boredom.

Crouching down, he began shaping the ground into marble figurines, each into the shape of his family. Starting with Leenndon, Quiet then moved onto the others as well, and then he planned to maybe play around with them and have them fight and go on adventures and…

There was a strange sound behind him, a disturbance in the usual order of things, and suddenly a shadow fell over him. Quiet only reacted to the latter, he was so engrossed in his sculpting. Turning around, he laid eyes upon a huge slimy red hulking mass of something standing over him. It reeked of the magic Zayl was using.

Oh… was it a training dummy Zayl made for him?

Quiet tilted his head to one side. The ugly thing mimicked it with its white bony head, then suddenly struck out.

oooOOOooo

Tyrael and Quiet crashed into the floor hard, the air escaping the man's lungs.

- Quiet, what—? – was all he could manage to wheeze out as he struggled to push himself up from the tiles.

- Zayl sent an ugly training dummy – Quiet coughed. – It's really ugly.

- What training—

And then Tyrael saw it, having pushed himself up from the ground.

-… dummy – he breathed out, blood freezing in his veins.

Then he grabbed Quiet and lunged for it, swooping right past the charging horror.

- It's not a training dummy! – he shouted, the giant fist missing his head by a hair's length.

Flinging themselves out into the courtyard again, Tyrael turned to face his opponent, left hand crushing the stunned Quiet against his chest, the other summoning El'druin to him. He laid eyes upon a Flesh Golem…

No, more like the largest, ugliest, most defined Flesh Golem he had ever seen or read about. The hulking beast was a mountain of raw muscle and bone, lumbering around the opening in the building's wall to face them. Its flesh was tightly and well-contoured, no trace of any deformation or "uncertainty" in its body. Most golems of any kind always had some kind of flaw in them, depending on the skill level of the summoner necromancer. This specimen was perfect… if also disgusting as sin. It had one long arm ending in a huge fist, and another that ended in a smaller club of bone spikes. There was a hood-like muscle around its canine skull-head, adorned with meter-long horns.

- So ugly – Quiet whispered in terror.

Tyrael swung El'druin as a warning. He had no idea where this beast came from, but one thing was for sure: it wasn't Zayl's. The necromancer had confined in him long ago, that he was dreadfully bad in Golem spells. All of them. Even among Rathmians, there were many specializations, and Zayl was really not part of the Summoners. He could not have conjured up this beast, let alone this solidly.

The golem stopped a few meters away from them, staring blankly at them.

- Summoner! Whoever you may be, dismiss your foul creature and leave us at peace! – Tyrael shouted, El'druin trained at his opponent. – We have not earned this invasion, but we shall destroy your golem, if you push forward!

The golem hissed in reply and charged.

With a battlecry, Lorath came crashing down onto its slimy back, no doubt jumping out of his room's window a second ago, his long spear sinking deep into the flesh. He landed hard on the beast but managed to hold onto one of the horns. The golem did not really react to him, even though it felt the damage dealt by the long weapon.

- Lorath! What are you doing?! – Tyrael shouted as he dodged back, dragging Quiet with him.

The young man was finally flung off of the back and rolled across the dust dizzily, his weapon still inside the golem.

- Quiet, stay here! – Tyrael set the angel down and charged, trying to dance around the beast and strike it from there.

El'druin did cut into the torso, slipping by the wide arm, but the blow did little to slow down the monster. It thundered past Tyrael, straight at the shell-shocked Quiet. A pillar of ground crashed into the golem's chin so hard it toppled the hulk over backwards, crushing Lorath's spear under itself. Tyrael lunged forward, El'druin raised high. Quiet did the same with his blood red spears following him. The golem moved quickly, however and flailed widely with its limbs, nearly clubbing Tyrael with its spiky arm.

From the top of the angel-Tyrael statue a dark shape swooped down, and with an uncharacteristically vicious battlecry, Zayl sank his charged bone dagger into the golem's chest up to its hilt. The beast froze, then slowly, ever so slowly began falling apart.

- Zayl? – Tyrael stared at their returned member.

- I had to come up with an act, I am sorry – Zayl huffed as he jumped off from the carcass. – Now, Humbart. Did you see the controlling magic?

- Aye, I did… - the skull mumbled from the opened pouch.

- And?

- It led nowhere.

- Pardon? – Zayl looked down at his companion.

- The strands just disappeared into the thin air, lad. Like they came from another plane entirely.

- Zayl, what is going on? – Tyrael frowned, placing himself before the necromancer.

- My apologies – the Rathmian turned to his leader as Lorath joined the group. – Something… or someone, rather, had tried to influence my senses and paint Quiet as a horrible threat to the Balance.

- I am no threat – the little angel spoke up timidly.

- I know, but the influence was hard to fight off. It was very… instinctive. In order to throw this someone off completely, I briefly left the place and masked my presence as best as I could, then snuck back in.

- To take out the Flesh golem – Lorath nodded.

- Yes. I am sorry, Tyrael, it was necessary.

The fallen angel stared back at the shrinking remains of the beast for a second.

- So… we have a necromancer assassin? – he asked softly.

- An assassin trained at Quiet, yes – Zayl nodded. – It would seem so at least.

Quiet remained silent, wings drooped low.

- Well, that's some shitty birthday, for sure! – Humbart shouted angrily.

- A what? – Quiet blinked in surprise.

- HUMBART! – the rest of the group screamed at the skull.

2018.09.14

Featuring:
- Some very early and half-minute musings about how the Balance works in necromancers' brain. This version is probably a too direct influence, but hey ho, it was fun to mess around with.
- The "absolutely perfect flesh golem", and the suddenly haywire Balance, both of which would have been the first clues to Rathma being on stage and hunting Quiet by all means necessary. This would then have escalated... but that is a scene for a later posting ;)