The Necromancer stepped into the camp. Wearing only black and gray,
excluding his brown cap. His clothes had a few fresh blood-spots, but they
weren't very noticeable. He walked in, bow pointed at the ground. Behind
him followed three undead skeletons, each with torn flesh and clothes laid
over their brown/gray bones. Rouge also followed, the only pleasant looking
member of the party. No blood, no torn flesh, Just armor, and long blonde
hair pinned up behind her face as to not get in the way in a battle. She,
too, carried a bow.
The party was out of breath from running (except the skeletons, of course). An old woman, wearing a purple cloak with shinny, golden rims walked through the dirt/grass from her wagons and tents.
The necromancer stopped, catching his breath.
"HellRaven..." She said, bowing her head, "What happened?"
"What you spoke is true," He said in a deep voice, "She has come back"
There was a deep sigh from the lady, "by who?"
"I couldn't tell... she wasn't under command from anyone that I could see... us necromancers are the few that master the arts of raising the dead... but when raised they remain under our control," he pointed at the group of skeletons, "Like them"
"Could it be him?" She looked up.
"The Wanderer?"
"Yes, you know how many rumors there are surrounding him?"
From the side, a drunken traveler stumbled into their conversation, "Possessed by Demons, the wanderer is!" He laughed and spun around, then clung to HellRaven's arm, "By... Diablo! He came from Tristram, they say!"
"Get off me, old man," HellRaven shook his arm and the man spun off and hit the ground laughing and hiccupping.
"Some says..." His voice got real quiet; "he sold his soul to Diablo himself! And others say, he isn't human at all... but a pure bred demon! But I know the truth... I know!"
"Be quiet!" The lady kicked him, "You know nothing in this drunken state!"
She picked him up on his feet and pushed him away, he stumbled off hiccupping and laughing. The lady then turned back to HellRavne.
"I've been to Tristram, they told me the Wanderer is the one who supposedly killed Diablo. The ones who had seemed him told me he changed, both physically and mentally. I believe Diablo possessed his spirit and soul. He is no longer completely human... Now, do you think he could've summoned it?"
"No. I mean, why would Diablo want to resurrect one fallen sorceress..."
The lady cleared her throat and looked at him in a sarcastic sort of look.
"...A, very powerful sorceress," He said quietly, "But Diablo would resurrect more than one if he found that graveyard"
She was quiet, "Perhaps you're right... but there had to be someone, right?"
"Yes... but I'm not exactly sure who..."
* * * * *
Warily, the heavily armed worrier entered the graveyard. Exploring for Gold, he accidentally stumbled into an underground tomb, obviously very old. It was a small rock room, with a stone alter, weathered and broken, in the front. On the side walls, six gravestones (three on each side) stood bent against the walls.
The room was damp, and smelt horrible to the man.
"Hello?" He shouted, it echoed.
No answer, so he stepped forward, thinking it would be safe. Almost as the echo of this clanging armor ended, a voice came back to him.
"Hello"
It was a girl's voice. The worrier was apathetic, and didn't know weather the company was good or bad.
Then, a shape from the corner of his eye. It stood in the shadows, only revealing it's outline. Suddenly, he felt afraid for a second. But after that he felt relieved and not afraid at all. Judging from the darkened outline of the figure, the worrier saw her to be attractive. He imagined a beautiful girl stepping into the light, and then immediately running off happily together. (His lack of food and water probably added to this hope)
But he was wrong
She stepped into the light of the room, even he did not know where the light came from, though. She wore very few fragments of clothing... but also wore very few pieces of flesh. She was practically a skeleton... alive and walking, one of her eyes was still intact and she held a very old scepter, gems filling up the three sockets.
He stumbled backwards, making plenty of noise. Then, he fell. Before he knew it, the Undead one was standing above him. The worrier tried to stay strong and he pulled his sword out of its sheath, "Stay back!" he shouted.
The Undead one laughed, and stuck the scepter to his forehead.
In a few moments to him, all was black as he ascended to his afterlife. But, in the tomb, his head exploded from the inside, shooting blood and ripped, blood-soaked flesh and bones everywhere. The man's body shook for a couple of seconds before realizing it was dead.
The walls were now covered in blood, and has few various bone pieces stuck inside the wall. The floor, had pieces of flesh, a pile of bones, and a huge puddle of blood crawling across the floor from what was left of the man's corpse.
* * * * *
HellRaven followed the lady into another section of the camp. She
stopped to talk to a man who was selling liquor, and obviously was
selling it too much.
Soon, the female rouge walked up to him, "Does she know anything about
this sorceress?"
"Some..." he turned to her, then put his hands on her shoulders, "Paige...
I know that I paid you to help me complete these crazy adventures, but I
must warn you that she told me this sorceress used to be feared as much
as Diablo in the older times... before Diablo even appeared on the Mortal
Realms. If you do not want to, you can take the rest of your pay and find
someone else to adventure with..."
She pushed his arms back down at his sides, "I'm not afraid of Diablo,
I am not afraid of some dead sorceress," She paused, "And besides, I've
never met a necromancer with a heart before." She smiled and stepped
back, nodding forward, HellRaven looked and saw the lady coming back to
him.
As much as HellRaven liked Paige, (and not only as an adventuring
companion), he didn't like how she seemed to play her game always
brushing him aside. Or, maybe she didn't like him. His worst fears. But,
maybe his worst fears are true, and she only likes him as an adventurer.
If only he could ask... if only he could know...
"HellRaven!"
The lady's shout made him jump. He looked at her.
"May I speak to you privately?"
She opened her tent and signaled for him to enter.
The party was out of breath from running (except the skeletons, of course). An old woman, wearing a purple cloak with shinny, golden rims walked through the dirt/grass from her wagons and tents.
The necromancer stopped, catching his breath.
"HellRaven..." She said, bowing her head, "What happened?"
"What you spoke is true," He said in a deep voice, "She has come back"
There was a deep sigh from the lady, "by who?"
"I couldn't tell... she wasn't under command from anyone that I could see... us necromancers are the few that master the arts of raising the dead... but when raised they remain under our control," he pointed at the group of skeletons, "Like them"
"Could it be him?" She looked up.
"The Wanderer?"
"Yes, you know how many rumors there are surrounding him?"
From the side, a drunken traveler stumbled into their conversation, "Possessed by Demons, the wanderer is!" He laughed and spun around, then clung to HellRaven's arm, "By... Diablo! He came from Tristram, they say!"
"Get off me, old man," HellRaven shook his arm and the man spun off and hit the ground laughing and hiccupping.
"Some says..." His voice got real quiet; "he sold his soul to Diablo himself! And others say, he isn't human at all... but a pure bred demon! But I know the truth... I know!"
"Be quiet!" The lady kicked him, "You know nothing in this drunken state!"
She picked him up on his feet and pushed him away, he stumbled off hiccupping and laughing. The lady then turned back to HellRavne.
"I've been to Tristram, they told me the Wanderer is the one who supposedly killed Diablo. The ones who had seemed him told me he changed, both physically and mentally. I believe Diablo possessed his spirit and soul. He is no longer completely human... Now, do you think he could've summoned it?"
"No. I mean, why would Diablo want to resurrect one fallen sorceress..."
The lady cleared her throat and looked at him in a sarcastic sort of look.
"...A, very powerful sorceress," He said quietly, "But Diablo would resurrect more than one if he found that graveyard"
She was quiet, "Perhaps you're right... but there had to be someone, right?"
"Yes... but I'm not exactly sure who..."
* * * * *
Warily, the heavily armed worrier entered the graveyard. Exploring for Gold, he accidentally stumbled into an underground tomb, obviously very old. It was a small rock room, with a stone alter, weathered and broken, in the front. On the side walls, six gravestones (three on each side) stood bent against the walls.
The room was damp, and smelt horrible to the man.
"Hello?" He shouted, it echoed.
No answer, so he stepped forward, thinking it would be safe. Almost as the echo of this clanging armor ended, a voice came back to him.
"Hello"
It was a girl's voice. The worrier was apathetic, and didn't know weather the company was good or bad.
Then, a shape from the corner of his eye. It stood in the shadows, only revealing it's outline. Suddenly, he felt afraid for a second. But after that he felt relieved and not afraid at all. Judging from the darkened outline of the figure, the worrier saw her to be attractive. He imagined a beautiful girl stepping into the light, and then immediately running off happily together. (His lack of food and water probably added to this hope)
But he was wrong
She stepped into the light of the room, even he did not know where the light came from, though. She wore very few fragments of clothing... but also wore very few pieces of flesh. She was practically a skeleton... alive and walking, one of her eyes was still intact and she held a very old scepter, gems filling up the three sockets.
He stumbled backwards, making plenty of noise. Then, he fell. Before he knew it, the Undead one was standing above him. The worrier tried to stay strong and he pulled his sword out of its sheath, "Stay back!" he shouted.
The Undead one laughed, and stuck the scepter to his forehead.
In a few moments to him, all was black as he ascended to his afterlife. But, in the tomb, his head exploded from the inside, shooting blood and ripped, blood-soaked flesh and bones everywhere. The man's body shook for a couple of seconds before realizing it was dead.
The walls were now covered in blood, and has few various bone pieces stuck inside the wall. The floor, had pieces of flesh, a pile of bones, and a huge puddle of blood crawling across the floor from what was left of the man's corpse.
* * * * *
HellRaven followed the lady into another section of the camp. She
stopped to talk to a man who was selling liquor, and obviously was
selling it too much.
Soon, the female rouge walked up to him, "Does she know anything about
this sorceress?"
"Some..." he turned to her, then put his hands on her shoulders, "Paige...
I know that I paid you to help me complete these crazy adventures, but I
must warn you that she told me this sorceress used to be feared as much
as Diablo in the older times... before Diablo even appeared on the Mortal
Realms. If you do not want to, you can take the rest of your pay and find
someone else to adventure with..."
She pushed his arms back down at his sides, "I'm not afraid of Diablo,
I am not afraid of some dead sorceress," She paused, "And besides, I've
never met a necromancer with a heart before." She smiled and stepped
back, nodding forward, HellRaven looked and saw the lady coming back to
him.
As much as HellRaven liked Paige, (and not only as an adventuring
companion), he didn't like how she seemed to play her game always
brushing him aside. Or, maybe she didn't like him. His worst fears. But,
maybe his worst fears are true, and she only likes him as an adventurer.
If only he could ask... if only he could know...
"HellRaven!"
The lady's shout made him jump. He looked at her.
"May I speak to you privately?"
She opened her tent and signaled for him to enter.
