Disclaimer: I don't claim rights to Diablo, or any of the characters, concepts, or text from the game. This story and its characters, however, is my own work. 'Nuff said.

Chapter One

It was a rare day in the Cold Plains. The sun rose in a cloudless sky and that troubled Gra-Tuhlk. It was the time of the wolf, and in his long memory, indeed in the memory of all of the tribe's elders, the sky had never cleared during the time of the wolf.

"Bad omen," Gra-Tuhlk mumbled to himself, gripping the haft of his axe tighter. He was growing more and more concerned. As chief elder and shaman of the tribe, it was his responsibility to interpret the signs of the gods. This one could signal nothing more than evil. He shuddered; knowing that his tribe was ill-prepared should the Yeti rampage again. The sickness had taken far too many warriors, and worse yet, his shamanistic healing arts were useless to stop their wasting away.

Turning back from the precipice he stood upon, Gra-Tuhlk carefully traced his path back down. He placed each furred boot in precisely the necessary location to ensure proper footing on the loose gravel. To slip now would spell a tremendous fall, surely killing him. But that was the least of his concerns. He had traveled this path hundreds of times and his feet knew where to step. It was a few short hours before he returned to the tribe.

"Mergan Ham-Fist, summon the rest of the elders. We must speak." Gra-Tuhlk's voice did not waver as he delivered the order to the warrior guarding the gate, but always perceptive, Mergan read the tension in the elder's voice. He sped off to gather the elders as instructed, pausing only briefly to get his brother Gernok to relieve him at the gate.

The elders sat in the darkened rear of the longhouse, with growing concern. What could Gra-Tuhlk have discovered that would warrant such a gathering of the elders out of turn? Truly the shaman must have some terrible news.

The murmuring and shifting of booted feet stopped as Gra-Tuhlk stepped to the front of the group, his light blue eyes filled with dread at what he was about to say.

"Greetings brothers, the Tribe of the Stunned Bear has survived for centuries in these Cold Plains and never have we seen the events unfolding before us on this day. Fully half of our warriors have been struck ill by this plague and none of the healing arts have helped at all."

The room was immediately filled with grumbling as the elders began to discuss the possible consequences of the plague.

"Brothers, there is more." The room fell silent. "This very day, I saw the sun rise above our blessed land. Yes, brothers, I saw the SUN! Never before has this happened in the time of the wolf. I saw the sun rise in a clear sky. Indeed, it seemed the very land was burning. Smoke was rising from the frozen ground."

Gahn-Toth, youngest of the elders shot to his feet. "What could this mean? Does the very land rebel against us? Are we all doomed?"

Gra-Tuhlk held up a single hand for silence as a number of other elders rose up to respond to Gahn-Toth. To a man, they halted their speech in respect to their chief elder and shaman.

"There is a prophecy that speaks of events such as these. It is older than even our tribe."

Heads turned. Prophecy? What prophecy?

"It was taught me by Jon-Tok, my predecessor before he passed on to the Plains of Eternity. It tells us little of what to do when such omens occur, but there is one part that we can follow. We must prepare the tribe for war as a great evil is approaching, yet, we also must send our strongest warrior away from the tribe."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. The pause gave him time to reach deeply and draw forth the "voice of the elders."

"A time will come when the wolf will yield to the sun and the plains will be as fire. Evils shall walk the land and plagues shall herald their arrival. Send out your greatest warrior to the camp of the sightless, for the path to life lies through them."

The room erupted in a heated argument almost immediately as the elders took in what was said and responded. If war were coming, then a cure for the plague must be found. Send our strongest warrior away from the tribe when evil approached? Madness. Insanity. Finally, even the respect for the chief elder fell before the outrage expressed amongst the others. They would not send their strongest warrior. Gernok would not leave the tribe in the time of its greatest need when so few warriors could still stand and fight. No, they would send their youngest and most inexperienced so that the remaining warriors could best defend the tribe. Despite Gra-Tuhlk's arguments, the council of elders overruled him. As if to make it worse for the shaman, his own youngest son, Gra-Tuke was chosen to be sent away despite not even having completing the trials of manhood.

Gra-Tuhlk bowed his head as he left the council. Fools! Do they know what they have done? Their shortsightedness will doom us all. He was half tempted to send Gernok anyway, but as he took a few steps in that direction, he saw that the others had already anticipated his move and had nearly surrounded the great warrior. Resigned to his fate, Gra-Tuhlk trudged on to where he knew he would find his youngest son.

Gra-Tuke brought the axe down with all of his anger and frustration, easily splitting the upstanding log he had placed on the splitting stump. He replaced the log with another as echoes of the taunts of his brothers and other fellow young tribesmen rang in his mind. Runt. Thwack! He drove the axe through the log sending pieces flying several paces away. With each swing, he felt the rage growing, the indignation at being told he was too small and weak to survive the trials of manhood. Even his father, the great elder of the whole tribe seemed to be on their side. Fighting back tears of anger and frustration, he cleaved yet another log in twain, the hundredth this morning.

"Son, I must speak with you."

Gra-Tuke was startled by his father's voice. He was so focused on picturing his eldest brother's neck as the log he was swinging at that he nearly dropped the axe when his father spoke. His concentration broken, the axe descended at the wrong angle, striking the log on too much of an angle. Gra-Tuke could only watch in horror as the axe-head sailed into the air, and he was left holding a shattered handle.

"Father, I..." Gra-Tuke sputtered, dreading the legendary wrath of his father that he was now sure to receive yet again.

"Enough, son." Gra-Tuhlk spoke clearly, with the authority of his current position and his many years as battle-commander for the tribe seeping through his voice. It was the voice of command. It is the voice that ordered men to exceed their limits. Now, it was a voice filled with infinite sadness.

"Enough. Show no more fear."

Gra-Tuke did not understand the gentleness in his father's voice. He had not heard that tone since mother died. Despite his father's words, fear gripped Gra-Tuke.

"Come, sit down with me as we have something to discuss." Gra-Tuhlk gestured to a spot on the ground relatively clear of wood chips and splinters. He sat down on the ground and waited for his youngest son to join him.

"Father, I do not understand. You are not angry that I broke yet another axe handle?"

Gra-Tuhlk smiled, finally finding something to break the tension within him. "No, silly boy, I am not angered by such trivial things on this day. Tell me, do you feel that you are ready to take the trials of manhood?"

Gra-Tuke's heart leapt. Had his time come at last? Had his chance to show his brothers and indeed the whole tribe that just because he was shorter than all the rest, he was no less a of man finally come?

"Yes, father, I am ready." Gra-Tuke put as much force and power behind his words as he could muster, trying to impress upon his father that he truly was ready.

"Good, then as Chief Elder, I declare you a man, a warrior, and Emissary of the Tribe of the Stunned Bear."

Gra-Tuke did not feel the stirring of the elder spirits around him, but instead was stunned by his father's words. Was there to be no trials where he could prove his mettle to the whole tribe? Emissary? What nonsense was his father speaking? "What – "

Gra-Tuke was cut off by an upraised hand. "My son, there is so little time and so much to do. Forgive me for this, but the tribe cannot afford the time to offer you a proper and fitting trial. The tribe must prepare for war and that takes precedence over all else."

"Then I shall prepare for war, father. I shall join my fellow warriors at the gate. Is it the Howling Wolf Tribe? Have they invaded our hunting grounds yet again?"

Gra-Tuhlk shook his head slowly, his crimson hair brushing his shoulders. "No, son, you will not join the rest of the warriors. You have another task – one, by far, more important."

"But father, defending the gates or raiding the army of our enemies is the most important thing for a warrior to do."

"Son, most of our warriors lie near death's door and neither I, nor the rest of the healers, can help them. But you can. You must travel to the monastery of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye. Amongst them, you will find a great priestess and healer known as Akara. Tell her of our plight, and she will come to our aid. Go quickly and gather your traveling supplies. I will meet you by the gate. You go out into a troubled and dangerous world and there, you shall have your trial of manhood."

Gra-Tuke did not hesitate. He leapt to his feet, not wanting to show hesitation on his first task as a warrior of the clan. He swiftly covered the distance to his family's longhouse, flashing in through the door. He stripped out of his normal furs, sliding on his leather armor. It fight a bit too tightly in the chest, arms, and even in the legs as it had been made for him some time ago and had not been resized as his musculature grew. The "runt" didn't need new armor is what he had been told. Hastily, he threw his furs back on. Finally, he grabbed the oiled sack that kept his axe preserved and ready for use. At long last, he would get to use it. It felt like little more than a stick in his hand. He marveled at that. The last time he hefted it, it was heavier, he was sure of it.

Almost all of the healthy warriors were assembled at the gate to see him off. He approached them all with pride, his chest puffed out as much as his leathers permitted. He was no longer "the runt." No, he was a man now.

As he approached the gate the strongest of the warriors and their unofficial leader, Gernok stepped in front of him. "Just where do you think you are going, runt? This is a time of warriors. Why don't you go chop some more firewood for the women so that they can cook a great feast for the real warriors?" The mocking and derisive tone shocked Gra-Tuke. He was a man now. A warrior. They could not talk to him like that. Could they?

"Better yet, why don't help them cook the feast, runt," Gol-Mak added mockingly.

Gra-Tuke's shoulders slumped as the entirety of the warriors of the Tribe of the Stunned Bear joined in laughter. He was halfway turned around, ready to retreat to his family's longhouse in shame when a small voice rang out in his mind. "Don't back down. You are the Emissary of the Tribe of the Stunned Bear." He knew not where the courage came from, but for the first time in his life, he did not back down. Instead, he halted, turned back, and stared his icy blue eyes right up into Gernok's cold hazel eyes and spoke.

"Step aside. I'll not have my path interrupted by the likes of you."

Gernok smiled cruelly. "Make me, runt." The assembled warriors chuckled with interest. It had been years since they had such entertainment. The runt was actually fighting back. This was too good for words.

Gra-Tuke felt the weight of the entire tribe descend upon him. He had fought Gernok three times in the past when they were younger. He had not walked away from any of them. "He is but a log for the fire and will fall just as easily," the voice in his head spoke to him. "Feel your rage. Let it loose. Unleash your fury."

Gra-Tuke obeyed. He unleashed his entire life of humiliation and pain into a single stroke. He swung his fist upwards, screaming with all of his being, "I AM THE EMISSARY OF THE TRIBE OF THE STUNNED BEAR!" His fist struck Gernok cleanly in the jaw, driving upward with all the force of his being. He felt the impact jar his entire body, but none felt the impact more than Gernok.

In a single fluid motion, Gernok rose from his feat, vaulted backwards by the blow to rest flat on his back, stunned, dazed, and barely conscious.

"None may impede my path." Gra-Tuke did not know where the words had come from. He knew they came from deep inside, but they were more then words. They were his purpose.

The entire compliment of warriors had taken a collective step back as Gernok fell to the ground. They now stood in stunned silence, watching the greatest of their number laid low by a single blow from...from the runt? How could this be? From somewhere amongst them a voice rose up chanting, "Gra-Tuke. Gra-Tuke! Gra-Tuke!" One by one, they all joined in the chanting. A new champion of the warriors had emerged, and to not honor him would be to dishonor themselves. They parted before him, showing respect and no small amount of awe.

When the warriors parted fully, Gra-Tuke spotted his father standing before the gates, smiling broadly. "Well done my boy, well done," he whispered in Gra-Tuke's ear as he passed.

"Now make haste, for the fate of the tribe rests in your hands."

With the announcement made, Gra-Tuke broke into the long loping stride of the hunting run. It covered great distances without fatiguing the runner tremendously. The monastery was a great many days away after all. As he ran past his father and out into the plains, he thought he heard his father speak a final phrase, but he could not be sure. It sounded like...

"Now, truly the prophecy has come to pass..."