Authors note: This is a prologue to The Three, which I eventually will
finish (if, by a lucky happenstance, my head is not bashed in, in the next
week). Review or I will send a plague upon all your houses.
Laor stood, studying the seen before him with silent contemplation. Three weeks since he had left the dock of Kingsport in Westmarch and now he came to Tristram, the ruined Rogue town. His horse he had long since given up to a group of fallen, who, in a cannibalistic frenzy, tore the beast apart.
He looked now upon the town of Tristram, demon infested, with some buildings still burning. He surveyed the town, Knowing that any of his fellow paladins that were still alive might come as well. There had been rumors of a demon lord awakening, some claiming it was Diablo himself. He doubted that, for there would be no one left to spread rumors if the lord of Terror had truly escaped the captivity of his soulstone.
From behind him, the Paladin could here the scrabbling of fallen. He slowly moved his hand to his chest, where three stilettos lay sheathed. Picking the middle one he spun around, hitting the first fallen square in the chest. Blood spurted from the wound, tainting the ground red. He immediately saw his move had been a mistake, when the fallen shaman let forth a ball of fire. Rolling easily out of the way, he thanked the gods he sold his plate armor for the studded leather he now wore. Muttering a few words he unleashed the power of the aura magic at his command. The shaman fell, a holy white light emitting from its eyes and mouth. The paladin picked his drew a second stiletto that pinned a fallen to a tree. The three is remaining fallen backed away, betraying there cowardly nature. With another spell he finished one and the other two fled. He sighed. This could take longer than I thought.
From his view on the hill, Wruendel could see the trees in the distance. We're out of the foothills at last. Behind him, the barbarian company, numbering twenty-six in all, jogged forward at a steady pace. Sammath, the second in command, came up the hill to where Wruendel stood. "Well druid.. What do you see" the big barbarian panted. "Trees." "Good. That means we're getting somewhere." Wruendel looked up, watching his ravens return. One landed on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "What'd that bird see?" "Theres a small forest infested with demons." Of course. This is the evil the land feels. "How many?" "Thirty or so smaller demons, being led by what appear to magic demons." "Nothing we can't handle." Damn Barbarians. Always so arrogant. Wruendel hefted his double flails and called to his wolves. "All go scout out the forest, make sure there aren't more hiding." Sammath turned away muttering under his breath "damn druids."
Balkor gazed at the forest in front of him sensing the demons within. Their hatred radiated out, unbalancing the forces of good and evil in the land. As a necromancer, he had dedicated his life to keeping balance in the opposing forces. He hissed an order in a hellish language to his undead minions then turned to hiss golem "Crush them." With that he drew his dirk and held it ready in one hand, his wand glowing in the other as it began a spell.
Laor moved toward the forest carefully, one hand absent mindedly pawing at the stilettos. The fallen should have noticed him by now, but something was distracting them. The shaman looked as the they were mad shooting bolts of fire at shadows. What's going on? Suddenly there was a glint of metal, a flash of magic fire, and five of the fallen lay dead. Whatever was attacking the fallen was making sure it wasn't seen.
Laor drew his longsword and flipped his targe from his back. He called on the aura thorns and charged into the fallen.
As Balkor approached, he saw flashes of magic fire. A small feeling of courage and righteousness came from the wood. Someone got to them before I did. He ran to the front of his undead, hissed a command, and made a mad charge to the trees.
12 of the barbarians went with Wruendel to the wood. They moved slowly, dodging there way across the small plain between the hills and the forest. As they reached the southern edge of the forest Sammath pulled them together for last minute orders "Alright I want Wruendel to lead six around to the east. Spread around behi "Sir, look!" Flashes were coming from the wood and there were muffled screaming. "Forget the plan, lads, charge!"
Amid the chaos of the attack, Laor managed out find out three things. First, these were not your normal fallen. He could swear he'd gutted the same one three times. Second, the thing attacking the fallen was an assassin, and a good one. Finally, barbarians had an uncanny knack for turning up right when you need them. As he loped of another head, he discovered a fourth thing. An incredibly pale man, with a stick and dagger, was leading undead in an attack against the fallen. As soon as most of the fallen were dead, or appeared to be any way, the remaining fallen fled though forest pursued by three huge wolves.
Laor moved to the barbarian and shook the largest hand. "I am Laor, paladin of Zakarum order." "I am Sammath, Barbarian warrior of the Shadow Wolf clan." "I, figured you were from the Shadow Wolf clan by your axe" Laor said, nodding toward the great axe Sammath carried. "You've met barbarians before?" "I've seen a few in my travels." Laor turned to the pale man. "Don't greet me formally, I do not hold with your silly traditions. I am Balkor, a necromancer, sworn to keep balance within the world." Laor stared at the necromancer, with hatred growing in his eyes. "Where has that Druid got to" Sammath muttered, looking around. "I'm right here." "Wruendel?" Laor said with anew emotion filling him. "Laor!" Wruendel shouted happily running over and gripping the paladin by his forearm. "It's been a long time old friend." "Indeed it has." Laor laughed, then stopped and stood listening. "What?" "That assassin's gone." Uneasiness settled upon the group. "We should get going. Theres a Rogue encampment nearby where we can get food and rest." "Right. Mien, go back and tell the rest to break camp. We're going to travel with the paladin to the encampment."
Laor stood, studying the seen before him with silent contemplation. Three weeks since he had left the dock of Kingsport in Westmarch and now he came to Tristram, the ruined Rogue town. His horse he had long since given up to a group of fallen, who, in a cannibalistic frenzy, tore the beast apart.
He looked now upon the town of Tristram, demon infested, with some buildings still burning. He surveyed the town, Knowing that any of his fellow paladins that were still alive might come as well. There had been rumors of a demon lord awakening, some claiming it was Diablo himself. He doubted that, for there would be no one left to spread rumors if the lord of Terror had truly escaped the captivity of his soulstone.
From behind him, the Paladin could here the scrabbling of fallen. He slowly moved his hand to his chest, where three stilettos lay sheathed. Picking the middle one he spun around, hitting the first fallen square in the chest. Blood spurted from the wound, tainting the ground red. He immediately saw his move had been a mistake, when the fallen shaman let forth a ball of fire. Rolling easily out of the way, he thanked the gods he sold his plate armor for the studded leather he now wore. Muttering a few words he unleashed the power of the aura magic at his command. The shaman fell, a holy white light emitting from its eyes and mouth. The paladin picked his drew a second stiletto that pinned a fallen to a tree. The three is remaining fallen backed away, betraying there cowardly nature. With another spell he finished one and the other two fled. He sighed. This could take longer than I thought.
From his view on the hill, Wruendel could see the trees in the distance. We're out of the foothills at last. Behind him, the barbarian company, numbering twenty-six in all, jogged forward at a steady pace. Sammath, the second in command, came up the hill to where Wruendel stood. "Well druid.. What do you see" the big barbarian panted. "Trees." "Good. That means we're getting somewhere." Wruendel looked up, watching his ravens return. One landed on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "What'd that bird see?" "Theres a small forest infested with demons." Of course. This is the evil the land feels. "How many?" "Thirty or so smaller demons, being led by what appear to magic demons." "Nothing we can't handle." Damn Barbarians. Always so arrogant. Wruendel hefted his double flails and called to his wolves. "All go scout out the forest, make sure there aren't more hiding." Sammath turned away muttering under his breath "damn druids."
Balkor gazed at the forest in front of him sensing the demons within. Their hatred radiated out, unbalancing the forces of good and evil in the land. As a necromancer, he had dedicated his life to keeping balance in the opposing forces. He hissed an order in a hellish language to his undead minions then turned to hiss golem "Crush them." With that he drew his dirk and held it ready in one hand, his wand glowing in the other as it began a spell.
Laor moved toward the forest carefully, one hand absent mindedly pawing at the stilettos. The fallen should have noticed him by now, but something was distracting them. The shaman looked as the they were mad shooting bolts of fire at shadows. What's going on? Suddenly there was a glint of metal, a flash of magic fire, and five of the fallen lay dead. Whatever was attacking the fallen was making sure it wasn't seen.
Laor drew his longsword and flipped his targe from his back. He called on the aura thorns and charged into the fallen.
As Balkor approached, he saw flashes of magic fire. A small feeling of courage and righteousness came from the wood. Someone got to them before I did. He ran to the front of his undead, hissed a command, and made a mad charge to the trees.
12 of the barbarians went with Wruendel to the wood. They moved slowly, dodging there way across the small plain between the hills and the forest. As they reached the southern edge of the forest Sammath pulled them together for last minute orders "Alright I want Wruendel to lead six around to the east. Spread around behi "Sir, look!" Flashes were coming from the wood and there were muffled screaming. "Forget the plan, lads, charge!"
Amid the chaos of the attack, Laor managed out find out three things. First, these were not your normal fallen. He could swear he'd gutted the same one three times. Second, the thing attacking the fallen was an assassin, and a good one. Finally, barbarians had an uncanny knack for turning up right when you need them. As he loped of another head, he discovered a fourth thing. An incredibly pale man, with a stick and dagger, was leading undead in an attack against the fallen. As soon as most of the fallen were dead, or appeared to be any way, the remaining fallen fled though forest pursued by three huge wolves.
Laor moved to the barbarian and shook the largest hand. "I am Laor, paladin of Zakarum order." "I am Sammath, Barbarian warrior of the Shadow Wolf clan." "I, figured you were from the Shadow Wolf clan by your axe" Laor said, nodding toward the great axe Sammath carried. "You've met barbarians before?" "I've seen a few in my travels." Laor turned to the pale man. "Don't greet me formally, I do not hold with your silly traditions. I am Balkor, a necromancer, sworn to keep balance within the world." Laor stared at the necromancer, with hatred growing in his eyes. "Where has that Druid got to" Sammath muttered, looking around. "I'm right here." "Wruendel?" Laor said with anew emotion filling him. "Laor!" Wruendel shouted happily running over and gripping the paladin by his forearm. "It's been a long time old friend." "Indeed it has." Laor laughed, then stopped and stood listening. "What?" "That assassin's gone." Uneasiness settled upon the group. "We should get going. Theres a Rogue encampment nearby where we can get food and rest." "Right. Mien, go back and tell the rest to break camp. We're going to travel with the paladin to the encampment."