Hello there. M'name is Inu-chan's Kawaii Ears and this is my first
ever Diablo fic. I normally write anime fics, but I decided that I needed
to expand my horizons. This is only the first chapter of what I hope will
be a long story. The title, for know, is The Beauty Of Death. It's the tale
of two men. One, a young Barbarian, the other a blind Necromancer. Enjoy.
Torflig panted heavily, trying not to breath through his nose. This place stunk. It stunk of the rotten flesh of zombies. And it was dark. Only the dull moans of the dead helped him find his adversaries. He swung his axe madly, trying to keep the creatures away from him. Slice! Off with an arm. Shunk! There went a head. But still they came forward. He felt a rubbery hand on his skin and sent the foe reeling with bash.
Of the few creatures he had seen, these were the ones he hated most. They were not like the quill rats or the ones the Rogue's referred to as 'the Fallen'. No, these had once been human, alive, just like him. Now, they shuffled around aimlessly, until the caught the smell of life, of him.
The Rogue blacksmith had called him a Barbarian, though he had no understanding of the word. He was Torflig, son Tornath, leader of the Clan Torclay. He was still young. Only 18 cycles of the sun had passed in his life. He was muscular, but nothing compared to his father. He kept his face unshaven, a ritual in his clan and a short ponytail kept his unkempt hair out of his eyes.
One of the creatures came up from behind him and bit into his shoulder. He screamed in terror, and twisted. The sudden jolt snapped the zombie's neck, sending it to the ground, lifeless. In the dim light he could see two more, one larger than the other. He uncorked a vial, sipping its contents. The flesh on his shoulder instantly grew back. He pulled out his club and ran at the last two zombies.
But before he could reach them, a huge paw came out of nowhere and hit him in the chest. He felt his ribcage instantly break and began sputtering for breath. A new creature towered above him. It was covered in fur and bellowed like the Diablo himself.
It reached up to bring down one last, crushing blow on Torflig. But something ran out of the shadows, between Torflig and the beast. It fell to the ground and he could feel the warmth that could only be produced by the innards. He retched on horror, stinging his chest. The one from the shadows continued his assault. Almost as quickly as he had killed the beast, both zombies were on the ground.
The cavern suddenly filled with an un-earthly light and Torflig saw the one who had saved his life, crouched over, examining the body of the larger zombie. A flowing mane of white hair crept down the man's back. The skull of some unknown creature hung over his shoulder and down his arm.
Torflig gasped for air and the man turned around. He was even more frightening than the zombies. His skin was a pale white, almost like his hair. His figure was skeletal and decrepit. But the most chilling things were his eyes. They were solid black. Blind to the world. Just like the zombies.
A feeling of dread filled Torflig as the man stood and drew closer, staring at him with dead eyes. He hung over Torflig's body and drew something from his sash. He held it to the young Barbarian's lips and said but one word.
"Drink."
He drank from the vial, the bittersweet taste of the priestess's healing brew flowing over his tongue. He felt his ribs instantly began to knit. He lay there for quite a while; waiting until the tingling in his chest stopped and his breaths became easier. The other man had gone back to the zombie corpse and was running over the body, trying to find something.
He sat up and called out the white-haired one, "What are you looking for?"
But all he said was, "You need to be more careful. If I hadn't been here, those zombies and that Gargantuan Beast would have killed you. Eaten you. And you need to learn more about your adversaries. Never try to disable a zombie. Cutting off an arm won't do; it will still come after you. The best thing to do is separate the brain from the body anyway you can. Whether it's a dagger to the back of the neck or an axe through the neck."
Torflig's face burned with embarrassment, but he was also indignant. "I did not ask you for battle help! I asked you what you were looking for."
The man sighed. "You Barbarians. So headstrong and stubborn. What I'm looking for is the amulet this one had around its neck. Can you see it?"
Torflig has seen it. It was lying on the ground not far from the zombie. But this was a treasure he did not want to share. "No, I do not," he lied. He inched his way closer to the jewelled necklace. When he went to pick it up, however, a bony hand shot out and grabbed it first.
Torflig panted heavily, trying not to breath through his nose. This place stunk. It stunk of the rotten flesh of zombies. And it was dark. Only the dull moans of the dead helped him find his adversaries. He swung his axe madly, trying to keep the creatures away from him. Slice! Off with an arm. Shunk! There went a head. But still they came forward. He felt a rubbery hand on his skin and sent the foe reeling with bash.
Of the few creatures he had seen, these were the ones he hated most. They were not like the quill rats or the ones the Rogue's referred to as 'the Fallen'. No, these had once been human, alive, just like him. Now, they shuffled around aimlessly, until the caught the smell of life, of him.
The Rogue blacksmith had called him a Barbarian, though he had no understanding of the word. He was Torflig, son Tornath, leader of the Clan Torclay. He was still young. Only 18 cycles of the sun had passed in his life. He was muscular, but nothing compared to his father. He kept his face unshaven, a ritual in his clan and a short ponytail kept his unkempt hair out of his eyes.
One of the creatures came up from behind him and bit into his shoulder. He screamed in terror, and twisted. The sudden jolt snapped the zombie's neck, sending it to the ground, lifeless. In the dim light he could see two more, one larger than the other. He uncorked a vial, sipping its contents. The flesh on his shoulder instantly grew back. He pulled out his club and ran at the last two zombies.
But before he could reach them, a huge paw came out of nowhere and hit him in the chest. He felt his ribcage instantly break and began sputtering for breath. A new creature towered above him. It was covered in fur and bellowed like the Diablo himself.
It reached up to bring down one last, crushing blow on Torflig. But something ran out of the shadows, between Torflig and the beast. It fell to the ground and he could feel the warmth that could only be produced by the innards. He retched on horror, stinging his chest. The one from the shadows continued his assault. Almost as quickly as he had killed the beast, both zombies were on the ground.
The cavern suddenly filled with an un-earthly light and Torflig saw the one who had saved his life, crouched over, examining the body of the larger zombie. A flowing mane of white hair crept down the man's back. The skull of some unknown creature hung over his shoulder and down his arm.
Torflig gasped for air and the man turned around. He was even more frightening than the zombies. His skin was a pale white, almost like his hair. His figure was skeletal and decrepit. But the most chilling things were his eyes. They were solid black. Blind to the world. Just like the zombies.
A feeling of dread filled Torflig as the man stood and drew closer, staring at him with dead eyes. He hung over Torflig's body and drew something from his sash. He held it to the young Barbarian's lips and said but one word.
"Drink."
He drank from the vial, the bittersweet taste of the priestess's healing brew flowing over his tongue. He felt his ribs instantly began to knit. He lay there for quite a while; waiting until the tingling in his chest stopped and his breaths became easier. The other man had gone back to the zombie corpse and was running over the body, trying to find something.
He sat up and called out the white-haired one, "What are you looking for?"
But all he said was, "You need to be more careful. If I hadn't been here, those zombies and that Gargantuan Beast would have killed you. Eaten you. And you need to learn more about your adversaries. Never try to disable a zombie. Cutting off an arm won't do; it will still come after you. The best thing to do is separate the brain from the body anyway you can. Whether it's a dagger to the back of the neck or an axe through the neck."
Torflig's face burned with embarrassment, but he was also indignant. "I did not ask you for battle help! I asked you what you were looking for."
The man sighed. "You Barbarians. So headstrong and stubborn. What I'm looking for is the amulet this one had around its neck. Can you see it?"
Torflig has seen it. It was lying on the ground not far from the zombie. But this was a treasure he did not want to share. "No, I do not," he lied. He inched his way closer to the jewelled necklace. When he went to pick it up, however, a bony hand shot out and grabbed it first.