DISCLAIMER-
Diablo 2 and other related stuff don't belong to me; otherwise the necromancer would be able to control three golems at the same time!!!
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Dark Light
Chapter 2- Astaroth's Arrival
Astaroth's world turned blue as he stepped into the portal he had just opened up. It led to the Rogue's camp. There he would inform Kashya and Akara of his success. The two "Sisters of the Sightless Eye" would be happy to hear the news. Now they would be able to move back into their monastery and the camp would be abandoned. It would not be easy because now many corpses now littered the floors and blood adorned the walls of the once pure and clean monastery. There was already a shortage of Rogues; other than the ones who stood guard at the camp, most had been killed by monsters and the rest converted by Andariel to fight for the forces of evil.
The blue color faded as quickly as it had appeared and Astaroth found himself in front of the make-shift "gate" to the camp. Grunting a little, he tightened his hold on the bag of booty he held in his left hand and muttered a few words. Behind him, the bright bluish portal shimmered and closed on itself. He had to be careful as even demons could pass through the ethereal doors. And he wouldn't want them following him, now would he? Nope. He headed for the tent closest to him.
As he passed the gate, the Rogue guard looked at him suspiciously, possibly wandering whose side he was on. Nevertheless, Akara trusted him and that was enough. She resumed scanning the wilderness for any beasts that might lurk too close to the camp, her bow held tightly and an arrow already drawn.
As Akara saw the necromancer appear, she was hesitant. Had he accomplished the impossible? Was he back so that she could heal him and then he could explore the Catacombs some more? Had he killed Andariel? Her minds buzzing with anxiety, she breathed slowly to calm herself. The necromancer approached and heavily sat down.
"Well?" the elder sorceress inquired.
"Yes, I have killed Andariel," Astaroth offered.
Suddenly elated, Akara was speechless. This man, this necromancer had done what others could not do. She all too clearly remembered the barbarian youth who had come a month before the necromancer. He was bigger than him and looked more formidable. But strength was not everything, as his corpse (which Astaroth had discovered in the Dark Tower and brought for proper burial) clearly showed.
She had misjudged the necromancer. Astaroth, as he called himself, was a strong warrior. Yes, he didn't have brute strength but he did have experience and intelligence. He wasn't as young as the barbarian, being 25 years old, yet he was no old fool either. He was also comparatively quite skilled with his magical hand axe, although he wielded a strange-looking large axe now. His armor had been damaged in a few places but Charsi could fix that in a second with her Horadric Malus which Astaroth had managed to return. It seemed that he had done everything he could do just for them. He rid the wilderness around the camp of monsters. He had killed Blood Raven and stopped the abominations taking place in the graveyard. Then he had saved the Horadric mage, Deckard Cain. Without even stopping, he then set to find the Dark Tower where the evil Countess, who was more demon-like than human during her life had been slain. And now he had killed Andariel and most of the monsters in the Monastery. The remaining ones would slowly die by themselves because of starvation and the lack of companions. Other would be killed by the remaining Rogues. Everything had happened so fast. It had only been two weeks since Astaroth had stopped by.
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It had been a dark and stormy night. The rain had relentlessly been beating on Akara's tent when she heard a commotion outside. Because she was near the gate, she presumed that another warrior had arrived to help the Rogues and the archers were talking to him for news from the lands he had traveled through.
She was both right wrong.
It was dark but not dark enough for her to see a man being surrounded by a circle of Rogues. Each had their bows strung with an arrow ready to be shot at the stranger. She could barely make out Kashya.
"Get out outlander! We already have enough troubles without you barging in," Kashya shouted to male figure. Akara could make out a hand axe and shield clutched in his hands.
"What are you doing, Kashya?" asked the befuddled Akara, confused why Kashya was try to send away a potential ally.
The sky darkened and suddenly, lightning flashed throughout the sky. All of the people in the camp woke up by Kashya's shouting including Akara saw the man's face. His pale face seemed to even grow paler in the "light". His untamed hair whirled behind his head as the wind began to pick up speed. Akara could all too clearly see the skulls on the shoulders of each arm and the other unmistakable signs that showed that their visitor was a warrior yes, but a Necromancer.
For a moment, Akara was surprised because she didn't think that no necromancer would try to help others. Then shaking off the instinctive thoughts from a lifetime of indoctrination against necromancers, she thought about his aim. He had not any creatures with him so he did not want to attack. Plus, he quietly turned around and was moving meaning that he did not want to mean them any harm. He probably wanted some shelter against rain and the dangerous beasts that lurked in the vicinity. Akara could see that he was bleeding a little and his armor could use some repairing. He also looked very tired and most likely would die if kicked out of the Rogues' camp. It would be better if they let him stay with them. He was a human too after all.
"No! Stop, necromancer," Akara shouted loudly.
Suddenly all eyes turned on her. Feeling hot under their gaze, she ordered," You can stay here-"
"WHAT?!" Kashya interrupted, "He's a necromancer! When we're sleeping, he'll slit our throats and loot us!"
"I am aware of the fact that he is a necromancer, Kashya," Akara replied gently but firmly.
"But-" Kashya persisted.
"That will be enough, Kashya," the elder woman said. Kashya huffed and went back into her tent near the centre of the camp. The rest of the Rogue's were confused and went back to their guard posts when told to by Akara.
"All of you, go back to sleep," she said. The remaining loiterers went off back to bed, some of them giving dirty looks to the necromancer standing in the drenching rain.
"Come, you have brought your tent? Ah yes, then you can pitch it over there. If anybody tries to disturb you, please let me know," the polite woman told the warrior.
Thanking her he was about to set out in the said direction when she asked him his name.
"My name is Astaroth," he replied starting to walk.
Akara slowly sighed to herself as she looked at his receding figure. Had she made a mistake in bringing him here or was this written in her fate. Only time would tell. She shivered and walked back to her warm tent.
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Two weeks had already passed, and Astaroth had killed Andariel. By now his presence in the camp was expected. Some Rogues and Kashya were still cautious but it was not possible to ignore all that he had done for them. The other travelers who had stopped by the camp had become more friendly towards the necromancer. Charsi, always friendly and polite was already a good "friend" of his, meaning that she talked to him and he answered back properly. She had a pure heart and didn't believe all the stories about the necromancers. Another "companion" of Astaroth's was a young sorceress about 21 years old. She had been bitten by a very poisonous snake just when she had arrived. Akara had been able to remove most of the poison but could not cure her fully. Slowly day by day, she was getting weaker and weaker. Soon she would die. Akara had tried frequently but could not find a way to save the girl's life. So now, Isabella could only rest in her tent, being in no condition to fight. This had made her very sad and withdrawn. But Astaroth's arrival had changed her outlook on life.
These days he would recount the day's events as she lay down on a rug near the fire. The fact that he was a necromancer did not bother her as she knew he was not evil and he was basically a magic-user like she was. The only difference between them was that they had attended different school's of thought. The young woman was quite enamored by the death-mage and would worry about him.
Astaroth himself had fallen in love with the girl. However he knew that they could never be together. Yet he still brought her flowers and told her stories.
Now he had killed Andariel. He would leave for Kurast and would never see her again. That was probably better, he thought to himself. Getting up, he went to Charsi and sold all his junk. Then he went to where Kashya, Cain and Warriv were standing and told them the news. Warriv instantly went around collecting his horse-drivers and told them to get the caravan ready. Cain told him that he would accompany him and got to get his things ready. He turned around to see that Kashya was left.
"Er, thank you for your help, necromancer," she managed to say after an embarrassing silence.
"I have a name," he said and went to Akara's tent, leaving the flustered Rogue leader behind.
"So you are going now?" Akara asked. Astaroth replied in the affirmative. "But what about Isabella? Are you going to leave her too?" she pressed on.
"I cannot take her with me. It will be too dangerous. Anyway, I know that you will take good care of her." Astaroth said.
"Goodbye then." Akara said.
"Yes, goodbye. Oh and one more thing," Astaroth added, "I was able to collect some of Andariel's poison. It is supposed to be the most powerful poison known to man. Take it," he said handing over the green vial.
"What do I do with it?"
"Send it with your fastest Rogue to the city of Rathma with this letter. They will make a cure from it in a few days and you must have it brought back. Then-"
"Will it cure Isabella??" Akara asked, anxiously.
"Most likely. Anyhow, it is all that can be done for her. If this does not work, then nothing will," leaving Akara to think about his words, he exited the tent and went towards another one.
Taking out a parchment, he left it near the sleeping figure. Isabella was a very beautiful sorceress. Her tanned-brown skin matched her dark brown hair and black eyes. She wore a green robe around her lithe and figure. She could easily wed a rich and powerful lord if she wished but she was here now, suffering for her ideals. Slowly trailing his fingers across her cheeks, Astaroth realized that he would have to stop this. He was becoming too caring and loving. Sure, they never had any physical interaction, but their souls had found each other a long time ago. If this continued on, he would be distracted and then he would not fulfill his destiny. leaving the sleeping sorceress with his letter, he left the tent and went out.
Warriv and the others were waiting for him. Taking one last glance of the place he had called home for the past two weeks, he wished the Rogues luck and then motioned Warriv to start the caravan.
The man at the front snapped at the reins and the horses complied, trotting away from the camp.
Inside her tent, Isabella awoke with a start and felt the paper clutched in her hand.
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I hope that wasn't too confusing
I have a bad habit of going into flashbacks with one person and ending with another
Alman-yes I have sped up things, but this is to make this LONG fic a little shorter.