Disclaimers, and such.
I don't own Diablo II, or any of the characters, or places I used in this fic. They belong to Blizzard, not me, though I would think that was fairly obvious to anyone who has played the game. Onward.
Firiel is my own sorceress, Az'Ral is mine, Iconnus is mine and Darkangel I met on Battle.net. Well, she was spelled DaRkAnGeL, but the basic idea is the same, so credit goes to her creator (I don't know his real name) anyway.
And so, without further ado…..
To the Gates of Hell
(if you don't like the title, tell me! I KNOW its lame, I am just not the most creative person in the world! That having been said…)
The rickety caravan finally stopped moving, after making its way through the gates of Lut Gholein, the "Shining Jewel of the East". A tall, dark figure wrapped in a cloak slowly made its way out, careful not to fall over after the long, bumpy ride in the caravan. He searched for a moment in his cloak, and withdrew some coins with which to pay for his passage west. Finally, he was here…he gave a sigh of relief.
He was a necromancer, called Az'Ral by those who called him anything other than a curse. This necromancer was tall and thin, like many of his kind, and younger than people normally thought necromancers to be. The dark cloak he wore covered the armor that he almost never revealed, for it showed clearly what he was. Necromancers were not widely accepted with open arms and joyful smiles. The hood to his cloak was down, however, showing his young face and short white hair, which had two streaks of black running through it. Obviously, he could not appear too secretive.
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Az'Ral had heard news of Diablo's coming to the deserts, as well as the rumors of his brother, Baal. However, he could care less. The resurrection of the Prime Evils did threaten the Great Cycle of Being, but there were others to see to that aspect of the necromancers' religion. He had other things to do. The mage had made his way to Lut Gholein after hearing "frightening" tales of a Greater Mummy, by the name of Radament. After all, Az'Ral's quest was not for fame or glory. There were almost certainly scrolls to be had, as well as artifacts and potions. All he had to do was to find its lair. After asking a few simple questions (actually, it was as simple as listening to Atma. No questions needed to be asked) he got a general idea of where the creature could be found.
As he descended down through the sewers, Az'Ral noticed one very, very odd thing. There were plenty of undead, as was to be expected. Except that they were dead. Lifeless. And they were recently killed as well. Many of the bodies were blackened as if by fire, and there was cold water on the floor. But there was total silence. Once in a while, he could hear small scuffing noises in the gloom behind him, but they were too quick to be undead, and too fast to be human. They must be rats, he thought. What else could they be? Still, something did not feel right. There was something else as well in these dark, dripping sewers. Scorching hot, and freezing cold at once, the air tasted strongly of mana. Not something one normally expected in the sewers beneath a desert city.
Many of the confused necromancer's questions were answered, however, as he descended to a third level of sewers. Hearing the sounds of a battle nearby, he grabbed his weapon, and ran onward. Small dagger in hand, he turned a corner, and there he saw the sorceress, desperately holding a virtual tidal wave of undead off a battered form on the ground behind her. She was in the midst of casting a spell, her arms above her head, long raven hair waving wildly, as fire crackled up her sides, sinking into the ground to appear in front of her as a wall of intense heat and flame. Skeletons crumbled to ash under the sorceress's fiery wrath. The two mages spotted Radament at the same time, the sorceress immediately throwing orbs of flame and ice at the greater mummy. Az'Ral summoned spirits from the crushed bones on the ground, and sent them screaming after the Radament, as the last blast of freezing ice impacted on the decaying body of the mummy, shattering its chest into tiny fragments of quickly melting ice. What was left of it toppled to the floor, in a gruesome pile of rotting flesh and tattered rags. The sorceress whirled around to face this newest threat, determined to save her friend, exhausted as she was.
"Nice aim, evil one," she said through clenched teeth, to the none-too-surprised necromancer. "You had tracking spirits, and you still hit the wrong target."
"Please, believe me, I am not your enemy. I came for Radament, not you." He replied wearily. People were all the same: take one look at you, and assume the worst.
"Really." She said, sapphire eyes blazing with icy light. Her empty hands began to glow, but the firestorm that would have ensued was interrupted by a groan from her fallen companion. She turned to away from Az'Ral. "Damn!" she cursed, rushing over to the large form on the ground. "No! I don't have any more potions!"
"I do", came the quiet whisper of the necromancer's voice. "Here, please take them, I have extra." Az'Ral tossed her three potions, two bright red, and one sparkling blue. "Take them, you look like you could use the mana." The sorceress caught the potions, and, uncorking them, smelled the contents. So he's not lying she thought. Hmm…She drank the smaller healing potion, as well as the mana, and then turned away to help her friend.
Az'Ral also turned his back, walking deeper into Radament's lair, hoping to find something of value (to a necromancer, at least). "Damn. Nothing. All this for nothing," he muttered to himself. He walked over to Radament's twice-dead corpse and knelt, looking for scrolls or spell components, anything to tell him what the mummy was doing, how, and why. But there was nothing. Nothing. But then he caught sight of a small chest in a corner, dimly lit as if from the inside. The necromancer rose, running a hand through his short hair, bone and black metal armor rasping together. Opening the chest, he found a scroll, dirty and molded. "Well, perhaps this wasn't for nothing after all." he whispered to himself. The dark mage tucked the scroll into his belt and turned to leave, only to find the sorceress and her companion blocking his way out.
"Alright, dark one, who are you? Why are you here, and why did you help us?" the sorceress demanded angrily. Az'Ral sighed. Here we go again, he thought to himself.
"My name is Az'Ral. I am a necromancer from the ancient city of Rathma. I'm here looking for information, and since I haven't found any, I'm leaving. I helped you because you needed help. Now, sorceress, would you mind answering your questions for me?" he answered, his soft, usually calm voice edged with anger.
"I…I'm Firiel, and this is my companion, Rage." She said, nodding to the barbarian at her side. "We were sent down here to kill Radament, which we've done. Aaahhh...thank you for the help, by the way." She paused for a moment. "So, um…where will you go now, since Radament is dead?"
"Is there somewhere I need to go?"
"Well, where were you planning on going? Surely you're not going to live down here. But then again…" she smiled. I guess what I'm saying is, 'You don't seem to have anywhere you need to be at the moment, otherwise, you would be there, so will you join us on our quest?'"
"Which would be…?"
"We're…we're going to kill Baal, before Diablo sets him free. I know it sounds all grand, and probably pretty stupid to a necromancer, but we are. At least, the two of us are. Me and Rage here." Rage waved.
There's more of you?" the startled necromancer asked, turning around.
"Well, right now, its just me and Rage. Iconnus, Darkangel, and Spirit Wing, a Valkyrie, are joining up with us later. Assuming they get out of that jungle alive…" she trailed off, mumbling.
"Jungle?" asked Az'Ral in surprise.
"Kehjistan. Kurast. Travincal. Surely you've heard of them. Since the coming of the Prime evils, and, more specifically, Mephisto, the jungles around Kurast have literally taken over. Since Darkangel is an Amazon, and used to jungle fighting, she went along with Iconnus to help free Kurast and deal with Mephisto. As Iconnus is a paladin, the corruption of the Temple City and Zakarum has worried him greatly."
"I'll bet it has…" muttered the necromancer sarcastically. "Troubles me as well. I've been gone for far too long…wait, a paladin? Yes, I should have known it would be a paladin responsible for this… crusade. Idealistic fools. I suppose he couldn't resist being the hero and 'saving Kurast from a plague of evil', could he?"
"How DARE you!" screamed Firiel. "I've barely met you, barely know you, you know nothing of my friends, or me and yet you insult Iconnus, a paladin, my friend, simply for being what he is!! What of you, dark necromancer? What shall I say of you? I should have-"
"Please, stop this!" came a strong, commanding voice. It was Rage, who had standing, forgotten, by the enraged sorceress's side, listening to every word, shaking his head. "We may barely know each other," he began, calmly. "But you have helped each other and we seem to be on the same side. Our quest is a difficult one, and if we do not accept help where we find it, we may not succeed. This man has saved my life, as well as yours, and we should be beyond suspecting each other of dark plots and hidden motives, though we came here for different reasons. I owe him my life, and I'm not going to forget that debt over a foolish argument about Iconnus!! Listen to me, Firiel. I've trusted him this far, and I'm willing to go further. Aren't you?" Silence followed the barbarian's speech.
Firiel smiled. "You are right, I suppose." She turned to Az'Ral and extended her slim hand, as if greeting the mage for the first time.
"Greetings, Az'Ral of Rathma. I am Firiel, of the Zann Esu, and this is my companion, Rage, of Arreat. Will you join us on our quests?"
Az'Ral took her hand in his own, his hard expression fading into a smile of his own. Well, I may find something of value in Tal Rasha's tomb. It can't hurt to stick around a little longer, he thought. "I thank you, Firiel of the Zann Esu. I accept your offer of alliance." He then went into a large, sweeping bow, which soon had everyone laughing.
The barbarian of the little party, never being one for prolonged negotiations, winked at both Az'Ral and Firiel, then wrapped them both in a huge hug, sealing the deal.
"Well…there you have it," said the necromancer, slightly embarrassed at having been hugged by a man twice his size, along with a beautiful woman. "I guess I come with you. Still…I may have to have a word with this paladin friend of yours." He added, grinning.
"Uh…later", said Rage quickly. The three companions had another laugh. Then they walked, together, out of the damp sewers into the bright sun of Lut Gholein's streets.
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However, none of the three friends noticed the pair of bright eyes in the shadows behind them. No one heard the quick flutter of stealthy movement over the drips of water and the squeaks of rats. No one saw as the creature following them revealed itself, then melted back into the shadows, silent as before. Silent as death.
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As they emerged into the streets of the city, triumphant, all three members of the newly modified party had to cover their eyes against the blazing high-noon sun.
"Well, I don't know about the two of you, but this is too much for me. I have to get out of this light, especially after those sewers." Az'Ral said, bringing up a pale hand to shield his face. "Where do you find an inn in this city?"
"Well, my little friend, that is what Elzix is for," said Rage, clapping Az'Ral on the shoulder with a large hand. The thin necromancer's legs buckled. "Coming Firiel?" Rage taunted.
"Well, someone has to make sure you don't hurt yourself, or kill our necromancer friend!" she replied with a grin. "Let's go!"
"Yes, let's," muttered the mage, regaining his footing. "I would hate to have to embarrass you in front of all these people. It would be very sad for a barbarian like you to be beat by a 'weakling necromancer' as I've heard us called."
"Yes, it would." replied Rage. "Which is exactly why it's not going to happen." he finished, picking up Az'Ral and starting toward Elzix's inn.
"Hey!" he yelled in protest. "You barbarians are crazy! Put me down, dammit! Don't make me hurt you! Okay, that's it, you have been warned. Firiel! Ahh! Help!"
I have to see this, thought Firiel. She followed, barely able to see through the tears of laughter welling up in her eyes. I could almost feel sorry for him…almost. What have I gotten myself into?
Alright, so there it is. The first part. Since you've suffered through this much already, why don't you review this for me? Come, on, I'm only asking for like 10 seconds of your time. Even if you hated it. I don't care. Just review. Also, as I may have mentioned before, I don't really know where this story is going, if anywhere. So, if you would be so kind as to e-mail me at Liarel_the_Sorceress@yahoo.com, (or message me if you have yahoo messenger) with an idea or two, I will happily try to add it in, and give you full credit for your idea if I do. I have something of a second chapter ready, but I will NOT go through all the trouble of typing it up if you all want to throw assorted fruits and vegetables at me for writing this. Not that I don't LIKE fruits and vegetables, it's just the idea. SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!! Ok, 'nuff said, back to playing this game.