She was a Tiefling. His eyes widened
"I should have known," he said in a low voice. Amon shrunk back as if struck, quickly covering her face and pulling her hood back down. Mathias was silent. Slowly he stood, turning away from her and sheathing his sword, with Kaurian snickering in the background. "I will not kill you… or chase after you… or anything like that."
"But you'll leave…" Amon said softly. He nodded.
"I am compelled by my beliefs not to help you." Her eyes saddened and she lowered her head, shoulders slumping. Seeing this, he made an effort to apologize, though it was not quite clear what for. "I am sorry, Amon. But it is my way," he said weakly, before turning and walking of towards the exit. Amon blinked and then perked up.
"Do you have any holy water on you? Or blessed bread?"
"No. My order is dead, remember?"
"No, but I mean… can you bless water? A true paladin should be able to instill the gift of the light- fallen order or not."
"I… Do not have the authority to do so…"
"Who's left that's higher then you? Bless some for me… I want to show you something… if you'd let me…" He was silent a long moment, and then he sighed, pulling out a flask of water. Silently she watched as he prayed over it and then offered it to her. She took it with a smile hidden beneath her hood. Then she poured a bit on a dead fallen to make sure the water was blessed. Her smile broadened as it ate for the demonflesh, and she pushed back her hood. "Finally… Demon blood is so corrosive." And she promptly began to guzzle it. The whole thing. She didn't stop, or get burned, or get sick, or anything. Mathias was silent, watching her as she lowered the flask to the ground and whipped her lips, sighing softly in relief. Then she looked at Mathias. "I can only eat tainted food… be it by light or darkness… I haven't eaten for five days because I hate eating demonflesh… And with no Zakarum left, all I have are the few provisions I brought from…" Amon fell silent a moment before slowly continuing. "From Tristram."
Mathias's brow furrowed and he snorted, picking up the flask.
"A bleak place it is now… So I've heard…" He turned away from her.
"It's where I was born." Not saying anything, he started making his way out. "Deep… deep into the hellish catacombs of the monastery… That's how I met the person who gave me this helmet." Silence. "He's the one who stopped me from eating demonflesh." Silence. "Please Mathias… I am not like them anymore… He changed me…"
"Still…"
"Is there not a thing in your religion known as "Redemption"?" She looked up at him pathetically.
"Yes… Though, again, I do not have the power to judge people redeemed." He'd stopped to talk, but he still hadn't turned to look at her. She sighed, hanging her head, not even sure why she desired so badly for Mathias to believe her. Perhaps it was because she was one of the only unprejudiced paladins she had ever met.
"… Only the paladin who found me trusted me… All paladins I have met since him… have tried to kill me… He trusted me… because he knew what it was to be damned… He understood."
"I somewhat do as well."
"You don't understand what it is to be hated… by the only thing that can be save you."
"I understand how it is to be seen as something lowly and undeserving."
"How can something reach salvation if all the saviors are busy hating?" He fell silent as she stood and slowly walked up to him. Thaedras watched intently, the other party members staring on.
Amon stepped in front of the paladin, and lowered her head to hide her hellish eyes. Her hands pushed her paladin helmet to him, and he blinked, slowly turning to look down at her.
"Do you recognize the house that this helm belonged to? It is very old... A very prominant blood line..."
"I do," he answered.
"And who would you say it last belonged to?"
"I do not know the name, but I know the knighthood."
"Then I will tell you," interrupted Oocho. "When your beloved Zakarum order fell, they fell quickly. Corruption spread like wild fire. I, a nameless warrior... and a sorcerer... descended into that hellish monastery to rid this world of Diablo's taint. The Zakarum fell so quickly. But there in a place between our world and hell... We found Lachdanan, King Leoric's Champion." Everyone was silent, hanging on her words. "Nameless would have killed him. But he pleaded with us, telling us he was weakened from struggle and pleaded that we hear him out. He asked us to find him the golden elixir, a Zakarum artifact you might recognize."
"I do. It's designed to liberate something from damnation."
"Yes. Needless to say, we did not trust him. Who would? He was a corrupted Blood Knight, a Fallen Paladin undead. We might had never have found the elixir, but Nameless insisted at least looking for it. Quite by accident, we stumbled upon it a floor below the one we found him on. As we engaged battle to get to the elixir, it was snatched before our noses by a small demonic creature. Needless to say, I was enraged, and we chased the abomination all the way up to the previous floor… Where, to our surprise, we found the monster giving the elixir to Lachdanan!"
Mathias blinked, lowering his eyes to look at Amon again, watching the small Tiefling.
"Lachdanan gave the little cloaked creature a few loafs of unleavened blessed bread, and some holy water. He thanked us for securing the elixir and told us that his helm might be useful in our journeying, though, surprisingly, he said he was giving it to this small creature. As the helm was the only piece of his armor that remained holy after he was cursed, it would survive his death. Then he drank the elixir, destroying him and warping his unholy armor into piles of rust and metal scraps. " She paused, looking down at Amon as well. "Ever since, Amon's traveled with me. Ever since, she's had that helm. And now we go East."
"And why is that?"
"To destroy Diablo."
"Then the rumors about his survival are true? That is grave indeed."
"Nameless was infested by the spirit of Diablo. He is going east, the last of humanity rapidly evaporating. Amon and I are going because Nameless was our friend. And Amon considers herself responsible for his survival, even though we already knew he had Diablo's Soulstone. So it's personal now. We must destroy Diablo… To liberate our friend… And to save this world from evil." Quietly, Mathias watched Amon. The rouge was staring down at her helmet mutely. "And if a little Tiefling is going to help me- with my same exact goals at heart- then I say why not? It's as good as help from An Assimar."
Mathias sighed softly. "My only question now, is why is it you all so desperately want me to stay?" he said, smirking up at them.
"You're not like other paladins," Amon said suddenly, looking up at him. "You don't feel hate."
"What says I don't?"
"You didn't kill me. Everyone else immediately tries. I quested with three paladins for half a year, and the moment they knew…" Her hands clenched and she slowly put the helmet back on.
"And how did they not succeed in killing you? I do believe that three paladins would easily rat out and destroy a lone Tiefling."
"That-" interjected Kaurian lazily, "Would be how we met. I saw three paladins attacking a rouge and restraining Oocho from helping… So I gave them some skeletons to play with."
"I would think they would have killed her immediately," responded Mathias.
"You underestimate Amon. Alongside Nameless, she struck Diablo his killing blow."
"… I see…" Mathias looked at Amon a moment longer and then put a hand on her shoulder. This caused her to jump and look up at him through the helmet. "Alright." She blinked, staring at him. "I'll remain with the group."
Oocho smiled. Thaedras, leaning against a wall, smirked. Amon, on the other hand, was silent a moment before hug-tackling the paladin, hugging him tightly. He stood tall against the embrace, furrowing his brow lightly in puzzlement.
"She really does get along with everyone," Oocho muttered with a sigh. Everyone looked at her. "WELL IT'S IRONIC! How come everyone likes the Tiefling?"
"Maybe it lies in the fact that she seems to be more reactive?" Thaedras proposed, but that meant nothing to Oocho, so she continued ranting.
"Even Nameless liked her! And he didn't like or dislike anything!" She sighed, shrugging as Amon released Mathias and smiled up at him beneath her helmet.
"I will prove my heart is not demonic," the Tiefling said. "I'll prove it." Mathias laughed lightly.
"Perhaps you'd like to start by not eating quill rats?" he asked with a smirk.
"You're going to have to find me a lot of holy bread and water then."
"Fortunately, I seem to be able to make said bread and water holy." She grinned and offered the paladin a rat.
"Quill rat?" She smiled, patting her shoulder gently, before putting her helmet back on. She laughed, dropping the rat. "So, everyone coming back to the Rouge encampment?" There was a unanimous nod… from everyone but Thaedras. He shrugged. Amon sighed at this, and walked over, in an attempt to grab the monk's arm and tug him along. Thaedras, with different ideas, immediately threw her off, sweeping for her legs with his foot to knock her off-balance. Amon was skilled in reflex-fighting, however, and she twisted in midair, landing on her hands and dropping into a defensive crouch. "Do you not like being touched or something?"
"That is not the problem. The problem is that I do not trust you, and you do not trust me," the monk said in response. He crossed his arms over his chest again.
Amon blinked "Sure I do. O.o I'm hopelessly Naïve. But why don't you trust me? It's not like I'm going to brutally attack you. I didn't brutally attack the paladin O.o"
Thaedras shrugged "It takes time. Time is a commodity."
"Well, you can stay here if you really want."
"I never said I was not going to follow you out." Amon snorted, looking at him a long moment.
"Friendship doesn't take time. It takes effort. You are not one to expend effort when its unnecessary. And most paladins are not willing to expend effort when in the presence of demons. Now, you can either come with us… or you can not come with us. I suggest you pick and stick with it." She turned, heading toward the exit. Behind her, Thaedras laughed weakly, and he jogged past her, faster then she would have thought he could. Amon snorted and looked at the ground. Mathias smiled and came up beside her.
"He doesn't hate you. He just wants to stay by himself."
"Yeah, I know. He doesn't seem the committing type."
"On the contrary, he's very committed, just as I am." Amon smiled and looked at Mathias, shaking her head. Kaurian interrupted then with,
"He doesn't commit himself without it being a necessity or a life calling."
Mathias nodded slowly "Ah. I think- though I am not sure- that he is committed to balance, not to good or to evil." Kaurian shook his head, evidently thinking Mathias still wasn't getting it."
"No… like… I am Amon's friend," the necromancer said. "It took one event to make me her friend. I didn't have to be her friend. I saved her for no reason other then idle curiosity- and a dislike for prejudiced paladins." Mathias just shrugged.
"Perhaps he just hadn't found any reason to open up yet."
"Indeed. We mean, by saying he is not the committing type, that he wouldn't do something like that- wouldn't become friends so quickly. He's not… fickle at all. He's straight and determined, with no random actions- no instant changes. Everything takes time and slow progression." Mathias nodded, everyone falling silent as they headed back to the camp.
As they reached the fort, Amon sighed, and promptly collapsed next to the big bonfire, curling up and apparently going to sleep. Kaurian and Oocho went off to bicker with Gheed, and Mathias sat down on a log, taking off his helmet and sighing. Mathias watched the 6'4" rouge and the smaller necromancer go off and shook his head (Yes, have you caught that yet? Oocho is six feet, four inches tall. She's an inch taller than Mathias.) Then he turned back to the fire, feeding it some wood. Beside it, Amon was like both a cat and a child, curled up and resting her cheek on her arms. Her helmet was still on, and her cloak was wrapped around her.
"How old are you?" he asked her. She stirred lightly, and looking at him. The question was out of the blue, and came as he was busy cooking himself some food.
"I don't know," admitted Amon. "I don't remember anything before the first time I met Lachdanan."
"I see…" He shrugged lightly, nibbling on some of his food, running a hand through his hair and pulling out loose feathers. Absently, Amon reached out, taking one of the falling, fluttering feathers and twirling it in her fingers. It was soft and small, and not very developed. It had probably been dislodged early in growth during a fight.
"How come you didn't notice I was a Tiefling?" she asked.
"I noticed something strange about you, but I decided to wait and see."
"Why didn't you sense my demonic taint?"
"I…don't sense… I did not inherit that celestial trait." Amon looked at him, tilting her head to the side.
"How old are you?"
"I…I do believe I'm around twenty six years of age."
"Who were your parents? Do you remember or know them?" He nodded. I was made between the marriage of my father- who was human- and my mother- who was an Avoral." Amon nodded. "And frankly, I don't know how they stay together." She giggled.
"Why do you say that?"
"My father was the kind of man to stay in one place. My mother- an Avoral is winged at the arms- was a free and wandering spirit. Amon laughed softly, slowly getting up and coming over to him, sitting down on the log beside him.
"How come you never seem to get hurt?"
"I do. My armor just covers it up." He laughed lightly.
"Well, you're irritating me. Normally I'm the one who ends up having to take care of everyone else." She smirked. "Now I've got no one left to heal. We should attack something scarier." Mathias grunted.
"I could use a potion right now, actually." She blinked, and tilted her head to the side.
"You alright?"
"Of course not." He smirked, opening his hand for a potion. She placed one in his palm, looking at him with concern.
"Let me look at where you're hurt. Healing potions work best if the wound itself is tended to. And I'm not bad at bandaging." He blinked and then nod, slowly unclasping his upper armor, and pulling it off, he wearing a sweat-dampened leather shirt underneath. "So where do you hurt? Everywhere? Just your sides?" He shrugged lightly.
"Just my sides, I believe." She smiled and nodded, gently pulling up the sides of his shirt and examining the hurting area. A powerful and well-trained being, he had stood up against the blows well. However, hidden under the steel-muscled appearance, his sides were badly bruised. Surprisingly, there seemed to be some part of inscription on his lower back. Curious, she lifted the cloth a bit more, looking at it curiously. He back was tattooed with the inscriptions of his religion's beliefs. Smirking, she pulled out some salve.
"What?" Mathias sad in protest. "They remind me of who I am and what I fight for." She grinned, gently rubbing the salve into the bruise-wound.
"I don't see how that is- you can't see them on your back."
He shuddered and winced at the applying of the salve. "In a mirror I can. They are inscribed backwards." She laughed softly and gently bandaged up his sides.
"There, drink the potion." He sighed, downing the potion in one swig. She finished tying the bandages and backed up a bit from him. He lowered his shirt and proceeded to put his armor back on. With a grin, she stopped him. "Wait, wait, let me see." Gently, she pulled up the back of his shirt, examining the inscription. He blinked.
"Good luck reading it. It's in our language." Amon smiled smugly, pulling out a small mirror and turning around, examining the inscription through the mirror. Then she began to read it out loud, translating it into the common language. The paladin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.
"What? Did you not expect that?"
"No… I didn't…" She laughed lightly and put the mirror away, sitting up and pushing his shirt back down. "How do you know our language?" he asked as he put his armor back on.
"I know many things. I like to learn."
"I see. Well, good to know," he said, standing and grumbling lightly. The he nodded her, and walked off to speak with some of the rouges. Almost as he left, Thaedras could be seen, coming toward the camp as night fell. Immediately Amon smiled, going up to him.
"Hello."
"Good evening."
"So, do you really only eat gruel?" He nodded.
"So what do you put in it?" He shook his head.
"It is made itself." She lifted a brow.
"Okay… Sorry, but I don't actually know what gruel is."
"It's not… actually gruel… but it is similar…"
"Kay, so what is it?" He drew out a wooden spoon. It was a simple thing really- just well carved.
"This has been my source of food for many years now." She looked up at him and crossed her arms.
"Could you elaborate for me?"
Then Thaedras pulled out a simple bowl and touched the spoon to it. Instantly, some sort of pasty gray matter seemed to materialize and fill the bowl.
"Whoa. Nice. What does it taste like?" He presented the bowl to her, and she blinked. "You want me to try some?" he nodded. She took the bowl into her hands, and tasted some. It tasted relatively like cardboard. "Not very appetizing."
"But very, very filling." She gave him back the bowl and he took it, putting it away.
"I noticed that." He nodded and bowled lightly before turning as if to walk off. "You want to try something else? Maybe steak?" she offered with a small smile. He shook his head.
"I will be fine with my own ways… Thank you."
"What's wrong with a little variety?"
"There is no need for variety to me."
"Why not?"
"It is my way of life." He smiled weakly.
"It sounds… boring… What is life without individuality?"
"I am an individual. I and my monastery are the only ones that follow our ways," he says, looking about to walk off again. She came up beside him.
"Wait, wait, please…" he blinked, saying nothing, and didn't move. "So if you are individual, what do you like?"
"…I like to be in perspective." She blinked, confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I watch everything from the outside."
"That's not an individual, that's an observer," she said, grinning.
"An individual observer," he said with a smile. She laughed lightly.
"So, do you have a favorite color."
"The colors that I like are those I wear." She looked him from top to bottom- he was wearing tan, black, and white.
"Do all of your monastery like those colors? Or do some like gray?" she said dryly.
"Some, yes." She sighed, and crossed her arms. He tilted his head to the side… and then she pulled something out of her pocket. It was a dark violet handkerchief. She took it and placed it in his hand, patting him on the arm and hoping he wasn't about to throw her away again. Then she promptly turned and walked off. The blinked looking down at the piece of vibrant, violet cloth. "Sometimes you need a bit of variety to remember you're not the same as other people."
"Right…"
"She laughed lightly, and waved bye to him, disappearing behind one of the big log fences.