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disclaimer - no copyright infringement is meant... all are property of blizzard, both from diablo and starcraft
Illiawile is my character in Diablo II
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Sir Illiawile
I. The waiting
The bright sun reflected off a half shattered shield, while mud and dirt collected on the sides as it was dragged on the ground by illiawile. He had a long journey, he had travelled to the depths of hell and had defeated the Lord of Terror himself. He dropped the jagged and worn out shield and sat down on the grassy plains wondering why he was not more glad it was over.
Then thoughts rushed back to a face, a sweet yet tortured face. Someone who never should've taken the journey to hell. No armor in the world could've protected him from the pain of the memory. He now stood up... "snap out of it, Illiawile...", he desperate tried to make himself forget.
He was a lanky, confused, yet talented necromancer. You couldn't tell by looking at him right now that he was skilled; His mind seemed like it was always somewhere else. The last few months he had been reading an ancient scroll. It had driven him to travel back to the cold plains where a dimensional portal would open between two worlds. He never believed prophecies much, even though he was a necromancer. But the scroll had been uncanny in it's previous predictions. "An evil greater than the one vanquished will sprout from this portal if it is not sealed", Illiawile repeated to himself for the hundreth time that day. "What do I have to lose", he was almost at the place where the portal should appear. He was somehow disappointed that it wasn't already there, he hated waiting. Waiting meant thinking, and thinking meant memories.
disclaimer - no copyright infringement is meant... all are property of blizzard, both from diablo and starcraft
Illiawile is my character in Diablo II
*******************
Sir Illiawile
I. The waiting
The bright sun reflected off a half shattered shield, while mud and dirt collected on the sides as it was dragged on the ground by illiawile. He had a long journey, he had travelled to the depths of hell and had defeated the Lord of Terror himself. He dropped the jagged and worn out shield and sat down on the grassy plains wondering why he was not more glad it was over.
Then thoughts rushed back to a face, a sweet yet tortured face. Someone who never should've taken the journey to hell. No armor in the world could've protected him from the pain of the memory. He now stood up... "snap out of it, Illiawile...", he desperate tried to make himself forget.
He was a lanky, confused, yet talented necromancer. You couldn't tell by looking at him right now that he was skilled; His mind seemed like it was always somewhere else. The last few months he had been reading an ancient scroll. It had driven him to travel back to the cold plains where a dimensional portal would open between two worlds. He never believed prophecies much, even though he was a necromancer. But the scroll had been uncanny in it's previous predictions. "An evil greater than the one vanquished will sprout from this portal if it is not sealed", Illiawile repeated to himself for the hundreth time that day. "What do I have to lose", he was almost at the place where the portal should appear. He was somehow disappointed that it wasn't already there, he hated waiting. Waiting meant thinking, and thinking meant memories.