Diablo 2: Fallen - Chapter 1
By Amethyst Haze
Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo II, its concepts, its designs or anything else related to it. Those are the property of Blizzard Entertainment, this story is simply a non-profit tribute and parody.
Amethyst Haze's comments: This is the side story of the D2 series I'm working on. You might want to read the first two stories so you know at least the background of the three sisters. (D2: Longing To Be With You and D2: Visions of You) Also, you've seen that this story has an R-rating on it, so, if scenes of a suggestive nature and violence bother you, please read a different story. Thank you and good day. Comments and criticism appreciated in either the reviews or by e-mail. Thanks.
Chapter 1: "In which the Paragon investigates"
Valerius remained in a brooding state of mind for the rest of the long journey to Ghrent. Thoughts churned in his head repetitively like the wheels of the supply wagon he and the men of his company were walking along side. Logic was clashing with improbability threatened his sanity as his mind kept replaying the event that occurred one night ago, and the name still played on his head. Diemma. He sighed deeply, quieting the sound of his breath as to not attract his men to his discomfort else they discover what happened that night. It would not bide well if they learned he encountered a demon; they'd suspect the darkness in his soul was surfacing.
No one but him was aware of the demoness' presence and it loomed around him like a phantom, threatening to suffocate reality from him. His mind was firmly fixed upon the chance encounter.
No, he corrected himself. Not chance encounter. She knew who I was, she was waiting for me. He hesitated, unsure of what to think about that, unsure of what to make of the demoness. She was Diemma.... the legendary fallen angel, Tyreal's sister, the youngest of the Demon Sister trio, also known as the Dark Temptress.
He frowned. Dark Temptress? Who the hell thought of that one? he mused briefly before deciding some stupid bard probably nicknamed the two younger sisters to add to the catchiness to their tunes. The Countess was the "Countess" for ages, she who drank the blood of virgins and all the rest ingrained into her bloody legend. The enchantress and the dark temptress however... it had to be a bard just pulling his creative muscle there and failing miserably to rhyme if they were called anything but.
The splintery wood of the wheels creaked and groaned with every turn until they finally reached the old crumbling stone pillars that marked the dusty entrance of Ghrent. His lips twisted into a grimace as he heard the voice return: Found you again, Paragon.
For days it had been like that. He'd be lost in his thoughts and then a visiting voice would whisper to him: "Found you." It was a substitute greeting. Though he had grown used to hearing Diemma's voice, he still didn't welcome it. It was like a mosquito that whizzed by your head, persistently buzzing after you. You either had to wave the bug away, ignore it or kill it. And that made him wonder whether he had to kill Diemma to stop her from bothering him. The whole purpose of the
Found me? he replied inwardly with a wry smile. I wasn't even hiding.
And you shouldn't. I can find you wherever you go.
Valerius quickly barked an order to a younger paladin in training who then scurried off in search of the nearest inn. How quaint, he responded icily. I never though I'd have my own demon stalker. I truly am blessed this day.
Diemma laughed, her voice full of mirth in his head and sounded like the angelic twinkling of bells despite the blackness of her demon soul.
You mentioned this being a game, he started, hesitating slightly. Are there any set rules?
Silence crept in his mind for a full hour as he and his men followed the young paladin in training, Evrett, to the nearby inn, "The Dancing Boar." Zacharius, removing his helmet as they walked along the path, wagon in tow, couldn't help but note Valerius' sudden brooding state and moments that he paused in his stride
"I'm fine," Valerius responded curtly to the new paladin. He was not though; Diemma still had not answered him and that unnerved him. Demons were a capricious and tricky lot, particularly one like Diemma that displayed obvious signs of intelligence in tactics and approach.... Who knew how cunning she might truly prove to be?
Why thank you, Paragon, Diemma's voice thrummed to life in his mind. I do believe that's the first compliment you've given me.
It was an assessment, not a compliment, Valerius thought wryly. He knew he was going to have to guard his thoughts more carefully.
Inside The Dancing Boar smelled much like the carcass of a boar left to rot for weeks without end. Valerius and his men flinched at the assault upon their nostrils while Evrett turned a rather sickly shade of green.
Zacharius muttered to himself, covering his nose and mouth with a leather-torn gauntlet. "I've come across chamber pots more appealing than this."
Valerius paused. It was not possible for something to reek so terribly. He inhaled again and instantly regretted it, as did Diemma.
Gods! she shrieked inside his head. Stop smelling it, what is wrong with you??! Smell it once then run away!
The corner of his lips tugged into a smirk. So... it seemed she experienced what he did just by thinking about it. With a reckless spark inside, he inhaled deeply, walking towards the buxom barwench nearby that polished the wood with a tattered and equally filthy rag.
Diemma's voice continued swearing in several ancient languages, half of which he'd never heard and wondered if it was possibly gibberish on her part from the overwhelming stench. Damn you, Valerius, get out of there!! That stench isn't normal!
He ignored Diemma's voice as he spoke to the barwench, his eyes avoiding the sight of her nearly spilling out of her blouse. "How much is it for a night?" he asked, trying not to let his voice crack from the stench. He heard retreating footfalls and glanced back to find his men shiftily leaving the bar to the safety of the fresh air outside. Traitors, he thought.
Leaning closer to him, the barwench's eyes glittered greedily as she drank in the virile sight of Valerius. The moment she opened her mouth, Valerius heard Diemma shriek again as the barwench's breath hit his nostrils full on. "100 gold per night per person.... 500 if your friends want in as well," she purred, lowering her lashes in an attempt to entice.
Diemma's voice boomed to him with absolute clarity and he felt his blood thin. That place is ridden with the plague, you idiot! Get out of there!!
Holding his breath, Valerius nodded politely and quickly left as he could.Once outside, he questioned Evrett's motives for suggesting The Dancing Boar.
Evrett feebly defended himself beneath the gazes of Lutheric and Valerius. "It was the closest place. I didn't know."
Zacharius, closest in age to Evrett, stood up for him as Lutheric's face reddened with anger. "It was a mistake. He had no idea what place that was."
Evrett raised his eyebrow, confused.
Lutheric scowled, "Even a blind man can tell the difference between an inn and a whorehouse."
The young paladin-trainee shuffled his feet nervously. "I apologize. I'll be more attentive next time." In the back of Evrett's mind, he wondered if Lutheric was one of those paladins who also snuffed out their desirous needs like many eunuch-turned-paladin.
"Next time?" Lutheric boomed, scratching the shadow beard upon his chin in aggravation. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned, jammed his fingers through his hair and headed down the road in search of an inn.
Zacharius ruffled the scruffy auburn mop of hair atop young Evrett's head. "Don't worry about him, Ev. He'll just walk it off. 'Sides, I lived here before, didn't know that was a whore house either."
Who is he? Diemma asked softly.
Who, Lutheric?
Yes... I don't trust him. I don't think you should neither.
Valerius mentally laughed scornfully at Diemma. Oh yes... well, if a demon says my man's not to be trusted, well, then, I have to trust the demon's word, don't I?
Evil recognizes its own kind.
Valerius decided not to answer her, but instead let her believe he understood what she was saying. Lutheric was his second in command, he knew more about dangers and loyalty than anyone else in his small company. Lutheric had been by his side for years, training side-by-side, upholding the virtues that the Zakarum believed in. If there had been a change in Lutheric's attitude in the slightest, Valerius would be the first to notice it. Looking at it logically, Lutheric would have bene the brother Valerius would have been honored to have. Many times they had saved each others own necks... but it wasn't out of duty. Granted, Valerius understood that duty would force Lutheric to never abandon a mission, even for a moment, to save the captain, but he did on several occasions and the missions continued smoothly. Lutheric had many times risked putting his life as a paladin into mayhem by going against the code of the paladins set by the Zakarum.
The Paladins of Zakarum sole purpose was to defeat evil in order to protect its people like a shepherd to its own flock; however, these shepherds were expendable. If a paladin died in battle he died with honour and would be replaced without any of the high council of Zakarum flinching.
Stay away from him at all costs.
A warning bell went off in Valerius' head as his stride broke slightly.
In fact... stay away from all your men.
His eyes instantly narrowed, detecting the malice discreetly laced in her voice. He instantly recognized her plan; she intended to have the full advantage to kill him with minimal difficulty. His sword hand tensed as he made a mental note to not let his guard down nor let him seem the slightest bit vulnerable. How dumb do you think I am?
Lutheric pointed at a nearby inn, clearly looking like it was not a whorehouse. It was modest, slightly derelict, but seemed more dependable and safer than the whore house previously mentioned. Nodding affirmatively, the paladins followed Lutheric into the inn where a plump and portly looking old woman stood behind a counter as she stared into the scroll within her hands.
You're mortal, Diemma finally replied as he handed Lutheric a small pile of gold he retrieved from his satchel. So, that should answer your question.
Mortals are not dumb, he sourly replied for better lack of words.
He could hear her smirk. Only you would think so because you haven't been anything but.
Valerius eyes stayed on Lutheric as he and the old innkeeper's wife bantered back and forth about the price for several rooms before the burly soldier's conscience gave out to give the charitable amount of gold the woman asked in exchange for the rooms and hearty meals. Or perhaps it was Lutheric's rumbling tummy that gave in; it was no match against the old woman's listing of foods which ranged from a delectably seasoned stuffed pheasant with a heaping helping of creamy buttered potatoes and Lut Gholein wine to match.
And you, a demon, are qualified to give an unbiased verdict? He challenged her, feeling a strange warmth spread through his soul as she softly breathed her response to his mind: Yes.
The warmth that suddenly radiated through his being startled him. His gaze shuttered as he mutely followed the innkeeper to their new and temporary quarters. A thought occurred him and he spoke out loud in his haste, "Why me?"
The innkeeper stopped at the doorjamb and turned to him with a puzzled look on his face. "Because you paid." The old man's eyes swept over Valerius' face as his expression pulled into one of a searching nature. "Do I know you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Everyone knows the paladins of the Hand of Zakarum," Valerius replied curtly.
"Ah, yes." Eyebrows furrowing, but his words accepting Valerius response, the innkeeper moved his old bones around Valerius and his soldiers as he waddled back to the receiving room.
It was that evening that Valerius wandered around the town of Ghrent. Alone. His men, though asking to escort him, were promptly refused.
Lutheric gave a non-committal shrug, bit into the leg of a perfectly-spiced pheasant and, with a mouth load of food, said, "He'll be fine, he's a big boy."
Valerius wandered up and down the cobblestone paths he once knew to be a mixture of soil and red clay. Ghrent had changed so much from what he last remembered it as. The townsquare was the same has he remembered though. The two stone pillars carved by some nameless mason of the region erected them to symbolize the friendship between Ghrent and the neighbouring village of Shcaez, a small but bountiful fishing and farming community that Ghrent heavily relied upon.
He remembered the walks, holding a strong hand as a child, looking up at his mother. All bits of memories flickered before his eyes like wildfire. His heart sank as he thought about the day he heard the news of the fate of Ghrent.
It was on one overcast night. He was stuck on the lowly duty of polishing and reinforcing the shields of paladins. Him, a lowly squire. His mentor quietly took him aside despite his please to finish his work instead of face the punishment that lay before him if he didn't. He went into a speech, reasoning his mentor fine points in his favour. His mentor was slightly impressed with the young man's finely tuned skills of reasoning, but it wasn't enough to deter him from the task he sought to fulfill.
"Boy," Erachis said, still calling him 'boy' despite his obvious growth past adolescence. He ran his hand to rub his wiry and grizzly brown beard. "Your family is dead."
Imagine, he thought bitterly. Being only eight summers old and learning you've been left behind.
Imagine being immortal and knowing everyone leaves you behind, a voice softly replied.
He lowered his gaze away from the two pillars of carved stone and turned his head, his mind searching for her voice. Diemma.
Found you. And what, O paragon, are you doing now? she asked in her sultry tone of voice.
He ignored her, continuing his walk through the ever-expanded town. As his eyes swept over the new establishments and homes, he couldn't help but feel his pride swell to a new point for his home. It wasn't until several minutes later his walking ceased and he examined his surroundings more closely. The stone fountain in the crude shape of a lion sat in his view with the town expanding more so behind it.
Diemma's soft mocking laugh echoed in his head. Still feeling proud of your town?
In the horizon, over the clay paths and rickety rooftops of buildings, a decimated ruin of decaying stone walls, wooden walls.
"Schaez..." he said softly, remembering the small village with perfect clarity. He could still smell the salty but invigorating tang of a fish's scent in the air and hear the rippling of the river as it lazily fought against the man made fishing traps.
He blinked and it all vanished, leaving behind the dreary ruin behind him.
Do you know how many survivors suffered after Ghrent attacked them? Diemma asked him.
He didn't answer.
None. There were no survivors. Your people killed them all.
He paused, taking a deep breath and sitting down beside the crude lion. His eyes turned up to the deep navy heavens and to the constellations as if looking for a shooting star to wish a death-filled history away.
Were you there for it?
Diemma paused. I was.
Will you tell me it?
"Do you really want to listen to a demoness?"
Valerius' head snapped in the direction the voice came from. Standing at the left of the lion, patting its crude head with a expressionless face, stood Diemma, her unshod feet dipped in the fountain's pool of water.
"I'm asking it, aren't I?" he answered with a question with elicited a smirk from the demoness.
"You have a point." Effortlessly, she levitated into the air until she was level with the lion's back, arched into a roar to the heavens. Her hand stretched out, she placed it on its weathered mane and fluidly pulled herself to sit on its back. Staring down at Valerius, she smiled at the paladin.
That smile sent a shiver through his spine. He couldn't identify it and, immediately, a feeling of dread washed over him. He calmly reminded himself he'd listen, but be on his guard. I'll kill her if neccessary, he thought.
Diemma took a deep breath, her head tilted up to stare at the sky, her lips pulled into a tight frown. "All those deaths were over a healer."
He nodded, aware of it. "Yes, I've heard of her. The White Lady they call her."
"Avellai," Diemma corrected. "It means White Lady in the tongue of the ancients."
Valerius' sucked in his breath quickly as a feeling of nausea washed over him. He glanced at Diemma, hoping he didn't give himself away with a facial expression..
Diemma, oblivious to his sudden change, continued on. "She wanted to leave Ghrent. Too many impure souls lived here that would eventually taint hers. Schaez offered her sanctuary in their simple life."
Diemma rubbed her temples, her memory stirring towards the five-year old meaningless violence that fell upon the region. "The inhabitants of Ghrent were not pleased. For days, people poured into the White Lady's small home, ostracizing her and criticizing her abilities as a healer." Diemma shook her head, gesturing her hands side to side as she gave examples. "Ignorant words such as, "If it taints your soul, you're a poor healer then." Or worse, "People have impure souls then because you're not doing your job. You should stay here." Avellai said nothing, but her actions of visiting Schaez more often spoke louder."
Valerius swallowed roughly, his throat suddenly feeling parched.
"As days went by," Diemma continued, slowly nodding her head as if to silently confirm her words. "The words became more poisonous. They accused her of wanting to use Schaez as a start to unsuspectingly build up her power over people then destroy Ghrent, cleanse it of its "impure souls." The White Lady still said nothing. Things escalated. Hatred towards Schaez grew and grew. When the White Lady moved to Schaez, several of the Schaez villagers helped her with her modest belongings." Her eyes turned to stare at Valerius directly.
"They were ambushed," she uttered thinly. "Ghrent attacked them, demanding Avellai return to Ghrent."
"The Schaez villagers tried to help her, but were wounded for it. The White Lady agreed to return, but revived the fallen villagers before doing so."
She shook her head, an errant lock falling across her cheek that Valerius was almost compelled to tuck behind her ear for her. "She was locked in a place especially made for her, no bigger than a peasant's earthy burial chamber and guarded by at least five Ghrentiers day and night. Schaez would often come to her, to save her. Battle would ensue. People on both sides were hurt or killed, yet she revived all of them."
"Ghrentiers grew angrier at Avellai's actions," she shook her head in a disapproving motherly way. "Why should she heal the Schaez villagers when it is them who persists in the stupidity of fighting them when they do what is the only right thing to do--keep Avellai where she's needed most. They needed her to remind them of what's good in the world.
Valerius stopped her. "Why do you care whether people die or not?"
Diemma raised her head and gave him a leveled glare. "I don't. But I do have respect for Avellai. It's a hard choice to make to stay on the grey."
The paladin regarded the demoness oddly but asked that she continue.
"They tried to make her promise never to heal Schaez villagers. She refused. Her powers of healing were never meant to be prejudiced and choose only one side. The Ghrentiers took this in a completely different way. They saw only the "us verses them" and she was helping them. In retrospect, would she heal evil as well?" She snorted. "I don't know if she would heal evil, but given what's written about her, she sounds like the kind of person to reason that people are not born evil or good, but rather they develop into one of the sides by outside factors beyond what their soul dictates."
"Venomous accusations flowed freely," Diemma continued, tucking the errant lock finally behind her ear. "Perhaps she was a demon disguised as a saviour, and all the people who she revived were her undead slaves, cunning enough to fit in with the mortals. Fires were set to Schaez in hopes of scaring the "undead slaves" away. The flames were put out and the Schaez verbally defended Avellai's goodness, that she is to be free and will heal all who come to her, not those who just enslave her." Diemma's lips curled in disgust. "I know you think I don't care what happens to mortals, but Avellai was different than the rest of you holier-than-thou healers. She's also female, I can empathize with that..." she trailed off, catching herself in her rambling.
"The next day, Avellai was raped and tortured," her eyes glittered darkly as she regarded the rapidly paling face of Valerius.
"Schaez rebelled. Men, women and children flew from their houses towards the townsquare where she was locked and displayed, wrapped in hard rope, bruised, dying and naked with blood on her thighs," she flexed her hand, the ridges of her knuckles being displayed.
"Most of the women of and children of Ghrent remained safely inside their homes while the men fought with the Schaez villagers, but not all of them. Within ten minutes, the Schaez population that rallied for her was nearly wiped out. It was then that she finally spoke."
"Please... end my life," Diemma quietly whispered with a sorrowful look on her face.
Valerius froze, a chill running through his blood. For a moment, he almost felt as if it was Diemma pleading to die and not her repeating Avellai's words.
"She admitted no longer being able to save anyone after being tainted with such violent displays," Diemma muttered, shaking her head as if to say "what a waste." "No one seemed worthy anymore. None of the villagers moved to kill her, they didn't feel right to harm what they believed so strongly in..... The Ghrentiers caught up and killed the villagers."
"The Ghrentiers who caught the White Lady were none too happy with the many deaths in their town by Schaez's rescue attempt. She was raped several times and beaten severely for it. In the end, Avellai bit off her own tongue and bled to death." Her eyes trailed down to his hands then to his faith with a sympathetic tilt of her head.
Valerius' eyes followed hers to his hands. He was surprised to find his fists were clenched into two tight balls. His knuckles were pure white and he didn't even realize his hands were closed to begins with. His mind thought about the fear and horror Avellai must have felt. Waves of nausea, rage and sadness rushed through him. "How do I know you're not lying?" he forced himself to ask, staring pointedly at the ground in front of him in anger.
Hopping off the lion and walking to him, Diemma knelt down to tilt her head and look him in the eyes. "You lived in this place. You should know whether they're capable of it or not."
With that, she turned, stepped into the fountain and vanished, leaving Valerius with a feeling of uncontrollable hatred.