Amrit, as the necromancer was most commonly known as, suddenly woke up. He was in a small side room to the Pandemonium Fortress. He rubbed his eyes and tried to forget the nightmare. He had dreamt that he had taken on Diablo with his former comrades, and had even tricked Diablo into giving him the power to defeat himself.
He rubbed his eyes again, and got up, slowly. His chest, for some reason, seemed to be throbbing. He stumbled about, pulling on some cloths, and was surprised to find some bits of cloth already wrapped around him. He called out to his fire golem, but received no response. He grumbled, then decided to just limp over to that Jamella character, see if she had any minor healing potions she could over charge him for. He shuffled slowly out of his room, and was met with a surprise.
Amrit was shocked to see five familiar shapes silhouetted against Tyrael's wings. "What the bloody..." was all he could rasp as they turned to face him.
"Ah, so he's finally pulled through it," said the sorceress, as she and a number of the warriors rushed over and began helping him to a chair, offering him food and water, and talking to him excitedly.
"Why the blazes are you being so nice to me?" Amrit attempted to roar, but was only able to really sputter.
"You did well against Diablo," replied Tyrael. "It seems they have changed their mind set against you."
"Diablo? You mean...Ah for the love of... I thought that was a dream!" said the necromancer, panting from the effort of exasperated speech.
"You wish," replied the druid, using his vines to produce edible fruit.
Amrit coughed, cleared his throat, then said, "But, I should have...the effects of what happened to me should have..."
"You didn't think your allies would leave you to die, did you?" asked Tyrael, in an almost bemused tone. "They bore you upon their backs and brought you here. Jamelia was able to keep your life force contained within your body, with a somewhat considerable donation of blood to aid in replacing what you lost.
"Blood?" replied Amrit, looking stunned. "Blood from who?" Tyrael merely jerked his thumb towards another room in the Pandemonium Fortress.
"I'll get him for you, I'm sure he'd want to know you're feeling better," said the amazon, getting up and walking into the room. She emerged a few moments later, guiding a frail looking man by the hand. He looked up at Amrit and smiled, saying, "If I go to Hell for doing that, Amrit, you better believe I'm going after you."
The necromancer stared, his jaw moving independently of his brain, as Tyrael explained to the paladin that wasn't going to be the case.
"You?" he finally gasped. "You donated your blood to me?"
"Insisted, more like it," informed a female voice behind him. Amrit turned and squinted at Jamella. "In fact, to be totally accurate, he drew his sword and demanded that I take as much from him as needed to keep you alive. Which was more than what I'm usually willing to take out of a person at one time..."
"What, nobody else was willing to donate?" asked Amrit sarcastically, taking a drink from a cup of fruit juice the druid had pressed on him.
"They all did, but the paladin knew for a fact his blood could be safely transferred to you and there wasn't time to test the others," informed Tyrael.
"Not the first time I've had to do something like this, you see," added the paladin, taking a cup from the druid.
"Uh...thank you," replied Amrit, not knowing what else to say. He finished his cup and said, "If no one minds, I could use some more rest..."
The others ushered him to his room and he finally forced them all out, closing the door behind them. He turned and gasped in fright as a face appeared in front of him.
"You probably think a lot of yourself, don't you? Think that was clever, taking Diablo's blood like that? I don't think so," hissed a voice into his ear. Amrit stumbled back, reaching for the door to alert the others, but the figure in front of him grabbed him by the front of his shirt, preventing him from moving.
"You know what? I don't know whether I should kill you, or..." there was a pause, as the assassin suddenly lunged forward and pressed her lips against the necromancer's. She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him toward her, as her other hand cradled his head against hers. Finally, she pulled back, breathing somewhat heavily, and finished, "...or kiss you." With that, she silently stalked out of the room.
The necromancer was left staring into the darkness for several minutes, until he finally shrugged, crawled back into his bed, and fell back asleep.
He rubbed his eyes again, and got up, slowly. His chest, for some reason, seemed to be throbbing. He stumbled about, pulling on some cloths, and was surprised to find some bits of cloth already wrapped around him. He called out to his fire golem, but received no response. He grumbled, then decided to just limp over to that Jamella character, see if she had any minor healing potions she could over charge him for. He shuffled slowly out of his room, and was met with a surprise.
Amrit was shocked to see five familiar shapes silhouetted against Tyrael's wings. "What the bloody..." was all he could rasp as they turned to face him.
"Ah, so he's finally pulled through it," said the sorceress, as she and a number of the warriors rushed over and began helping him to a chair, offering him food and water, and talking to him excitedly.
"Why the blazes are you being so nice to me?" Amrit attempted to roar, but was only able to really sputter.
"You did well against Diablo," replied Tyrael. "It seems they have changed their mind set against you."
"Diablo? You mean...Ah for the love of... I thought that was a dream!" said the necromancer, panting from the effort of exasperated speech.
"You wish," replied the druid, using his vines to produce edible fruit.
Amrit coughed, cleared his throat, then said, "But, I should have...the effects of what happened to me should have..."
"You didn't think your allies would leave you to die, did you?" asked Tyrael, in an almost bemused tone. "They bore you upon their backs and brought you here. Jamelia was able to keep your life force contained within your body, with a somewhat considerable donation of blood to aid in replacing what you lost.
"Blood?" replied Amrit, looking stunned. "Blood from who?" Tyrael merely jerked his thumb towards another room in the Pandemonium Fortress.
"I'll get him for you, I'm sure he'd want to know you're feeling better," said the amazon, getting up and walking into the room. She emerged a few moments later, guiding a frail looking man by the hand. He looked up at Amrit and smiled, saying, "If I go to Hell for doing that, Amrit, you better believe I'm going after you."
The necromancer stared, his jaw moving independently of his brain, as Tyrael explained to the paladin that wasn't going to be the case.
"You?" he finally gasped. "You donated your blood to me?"
"Insisted, more like it," informed a female voice behind him. Amrit turned and squinted at Jamella. "In fact, to be totally accurate, he drew his sword and demanded that I take as much from him as needed to keep you alive. Which was more than what I'm usually willing to take out of a person at one time..."
"What, nobody else was willing to donate?" asked Amrit sarcastically, taking a drink from a cup of fruit juice the druid had pressed on him.
"They all did, but the paladin knew for a fact his blood could be safely transferred to you and there wasn't time to test the others," informed Tyrael.
"Not the first time I've had to do something like this, you see," added the paladin, taking a cup from the druid.
"Uh...thank you," replied Amrit, not knowing what else to say. He finished his cup and said, "If no one minds, I could use some more rest..."
The others ushered him to his room and he finally forced them all out, closing the door behind them. He turned and gasped in fright as a face appeared in front of him.
"You probably think a lot of yourself, don't you? Think that was clever, taking Diablo's blood like that? I don't think so," hissed a voice into his ear. Amrit stumbled back, reaching for the door to alert the others, but the figure in front of him grabbed him by the front of his shirt, preventing him from moving.
"You know what? I don't know whether I should kill you, or..." there was a pause, as the assassin suddenly lunged forward and pressed her lips against the necromancer's. She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him toward her, as her other hand cradled his head against hers. Finally, she pulled back, breathing somewhat heavily, and finished, "...or kiss you." With that, she silently stalked out of the room.
The necromancer was left staring into the darkness for several minutes, until he finally shrugged, crawled back into his bed, and fell back asleep.