Thanks for the reveiw; and you're right; he is a bit strong for a smelly
little Necromancer; an explanation will be disclosed. Plus, I promise there
will be more, more MORE demon killing in this chapter, so don't think it'll
all be drunken-fool beat-downs and wailings on townsfolk. Oh yeah, and I
forgot, I don't own Diablo II or anything like it or else I would'nt be
writing this story here; it'd be in a video-game magazine somewhere. .
.That said. . .
-J. Diabolico-
"Help! Please God!" came the scream louder, the Sorcerer ran hard toward the perilous cry, his legs pumping hard under his thin ring mail skirt. He grew in confidence as he felt the light kris blade bumping along his side and the jars of poison in the slits of his low belt. A few of the more courageous townsfolk had pulled themselves away from the crying man and the bar-maid to come see what the noise was, but he had left them behind; he ran with all the skill of a hare; his feet seeming not to touch the ground as he sped over the terrain. A small golden amulet jingled and glowed around his neck. . .
"Somebody save us!" The voice was now very loud, over the next hill. . . He erupted over the pass, and beheld the horrible scene, one, two, three demon corpses lay about a huddled mass of two armed men and a cowering woman. An entire horde of waist-high, green skinned creatures circled them menacingly; sabres held out murderously as they prepared to finish off their cornered prey; then the girl's screams took on another pitch. One of the demon corpses had began to twitch. The Necromancer's eyes glowed bright green as he stood on the hill, his hand out over the scene.
"Hraka, shumaradrin, Jangushka!" he commanded; 'I beseech ye, spirits, Arise!' The corpse exploded, the bones scattered and flecks of flesh spattered the combatants; even the demons stood; transfixed. Quickly, the bones shot together; rapidly climbing atop one another in a horrible heap of bone; and a figure appeared; a human like skeleton, tall and glowing eerily about it's joints, bent quickly and took up the demon sword at it's clawed feet. Then looked upon the scene. "Trankular, Kurumar!" the Necromancer ordered. 'kill them!'
The skeleton whirled immeadiatly and stared at the sorcerer on the hilltop, then glared at the still stareing men and people. It lingered uncertainly.
"Gar, jula?" it inquired in an enchanted voice. 'which ones?'
"Kandara-bukala!" came the reply; 'The unhumans!' and the skeleton set it's clawed feet evenly and then leapt suddeny into combat, sword tearing the legion of demons to peices. The Necromancer was chanting again, and the men, seeing this beastly monstrosity of magic was helping them, they gingerly continued to fight on through the confused and terrified demon hordes. Another skeleton had arisen. Then two more, and another, final bone warrior erupted from the cold corpse of a slain green monster. Five terrible warriors now hacked in a triangle through the fleeing, short creatures, their hellish swords slashing and decapitating the beasts in their terror.
"Come quickly, or they will overcome my men and return." Came a grave voice at the woman's side, she gasped as she saw the Necromancer leap nimbly to her side, the other men also stared amazed. The number of demons scattered about them was awe-inspiring, but already one heap of skeletal bones had fallen, the remaining four did not even slow down in thier efforts, but continued mindlessly. "Come!"
"Who. . .how?" the girl whispered, her hand clutching her side painfully. Her eyes were glazed and sleepy. "You are, wounded?" came the far-away voice of the stranger. "Take this. . ." and he reached up and took the amulet from around his neck; he gasped slightly and blinked rapidly as he felt the enchanted stregnth exit his arms and legs. He quickly placed it around the girl's slender neck and said to the closest man; "There is a town, above the hill, people are coming to help you as we speak. Meet them, . . ." another two skeleton's had dropped, the demons were no longer fleeing, they had the last two surrounded. ". . .Go!"
The two men, as if set free from invisible grips, stammered a hesitant 'Yes' and snatched up the blinking, gasping girl gingerly, her eyes looked clearer, but the cut had landed on her side hard, it would be close, if she lived. . .
"The amulet will help her, it is all that can be done. . ." the Necromancer contented himself. But why had he given it her? What had made him care as he had never before? Without it, the ebbing demons would be harder to fight off, and he had not had time to don his armor. . . "Trag'Oul, give me stregnth." He whispered, and he once again felt the thrill of power as gleaming white bones leapt from the cold earth and wrapped themselves around his frame, peicing together a loose, weak suit of armor and a wicked, horned skull helm over his white hair. Green, evil orbs glared viciously from the darkness behind the eye cavities. The last skeleton fell in a disorganized heap. The demons rushed towards him, reasured by the appearance of a large, hideous leader figure who was seemingly screaming orders at the angry masses. The Necromancer caught a few of the evil-sounding, demonic words, but his studying was limited; 'kill,' and 'infidel human' were all he could hear.
The demons, skin bright green, swarmed towards him, eyes aflame with hate and vile intentions, they sought revenge. Over his long years in combat, having first learned the finer arts of sword technique from his father, (who himself had not been a sorcerer but a merchant of wide renown,) he was unusually skilled with the dagger technique, and held his kris in front of him, hilt pointed upwards and the sword blade angled down towards his feet in the dagger-stabbing style. He quickly pulled a vial of black liquid from his belt, and, dousing the blade completely in the powerful poison, he tossed the glass away.
The first demon was fast and panting hard; it's stinking breath blasting out in disgusting, rotten smelling grunts. The Necromancer stood, bent over and with braced feet, the first demon was almost upon him, and it lifted it's grimy blade angrily and cried out in a horrible, bastard language. The sorcerer stood his ground, and at the last minute, spun quickly around and on the end of his turn, swung the sharp kris upwards, slicing through the oncoming creature's jaw, and sending it careening backwards with a pained yelp.
Not waiting for the next enemy, the Necromancer brought his blade around and began spinning and ducking in classic knife-fighter style, bringing the kris down into the back of the next demon, and quickly spinning away with a slashing motion to decapitate yet another vile beast. Without his amulet, however, the sorcerer's swords expertise was waning, and he was soon sweating hard and rapidly losing his stamina.
Many demons all about him began to choke and fall, foam and green rot bubbling forth from thier gasping mouths, and he knew the powerful poison had taken it's toll. The monster's apparent leader watched in horror as his troops were cut down mercilessly; this would require some magic. . .
Much to the fatigued Necromancer's dismay, he witnessed, in a break in one of his turns, the corpse of a slain minion leap nimbly back to life in a dazzling spray of blood which still leapt from it's open wound. A necromancer among the enemy. . .thought the sorcerer to himself, seeing the lead creature chanting in it's disgusting, brutal tounge. More corpses rose, and the warrior swung now weakly to defend, not to attack; he felt blows land upon his cracking armor, soon it would crumble. . .
"Janga!" he screamed, thrusting out his arm with force, and sending a conjured splint of razor-sharp bone flying towards the enemy sorcerer, then fell to hacking away at the horde closing in on him. The spear sped quickly towards it's target, who still had it's eyes closed tightly in concentration; when it opened them, the last thing it would ever see would be the Necromancer; tall and fighting, surrounded by five gleaming skeletons; cutting viciously through his fleeing troops; and a bright, ever growing beam of pointed white-light, speeding towards his face. . .
The Necromancer stood from over the demon preist's slain corpse, now missing it's head, which he held, gnarled and burnt, by it's greasy black hair. His armor, cut and useless, fell from his tired body in peices; only the skull helmet remained, the demons being too short to have reached more than chest level. A gaint skull graced his shoulder, and the gleaming spike on it's crown stood sharp and tall.
His skeletal companions stalked jerkily around, searching as they had been commanded for any valuables that may be found amounst the dead. One excitedly came up to it's master, a fist ful of gold coins in it's thin claws, and seemed to grin as the Necromancer smirked and patted it on it's empty head. He pocketed the twenty-seven peices. It would buy him something cheap, but he needed food. . .
"Hey!" shouted a voice, loud and near. "Where are you, stranger?" The sorcerer spun quickly, and saw the townsfolk searching for the battle on the hill above the plain. The skeltons also stopped abruptly, and cautiously ambled towards their master, should these new creatures be hostile.
"Hala, O'umaka?" one asked. 'they are, enemy?' "Naka." Came the reply. 'No.' Then, "Repaka gin Tumar." 'Get back to work.' The skeleton nodded briskly, it's brittle bones grinding to make an unpleasent sound.
"There he is!" a voice came from over the hill, "Over the. . ." but it stopped short, the call dying in the man's throat. "What the hell is that?"
The Necromancer looked wearily up at the group gathered at the top of the hill, and tried to think of how to explain himself; but then again, the hell with it. . .he thought, and sent the skeletal warriors back to the piles of bone they had come from with a quick flick of his wrist. He picked up the demon head he had dropped, for his scientific studies on the best poison to use against them, and walked briskly through the silent, gaping crowd of men. They parted, terrified, from his path, and closed in hesitantly in his wake.
"Help! Please God!" came the scream louder, the Sorcerer ran hard toward the perilous cry, his legs pumping hard under his thin ring mail skirt. He grew in confidence as he felt the light kris blade bumping along his side and the jars of poison in the slits of his low belt. A few of the more courageous townsfolk had pulled themselves away from the crying man and the bar-maid to come see what the noise was, but he had left them behind; he ran with all the skill of a hare; his feet seeming not to touch the ground as he sped over the terrain. A small golden amulet jingled and glowed around his neck. . .
"Somebody save us!" The voice was now very loud, over the next hill. . . He erupted over the pass, and beheld the horrible scene, one, two, three demon corpses lay about a huddled mass of two armed men and a cowering woman. An entire horde of waist-high, green skinned creatures circled them menacingly; sabres held out murderously as they prepared to finish off their cornered prey; then the girl's screams took on another pitch. One of the demon corpses had began to twitch. The Necromancer's eyes glowed bright green as he stood on the hill, his hand out over the scene.
"Hraka, shumaradrin, Jangushka!" he commanded; 'I beseech ye, spirits, Arise!' The corpse exploded, the bones scattered and flecks of flesh spattered the combatants; even the demons stood; transfixed. Quickly, the bones shot together; rapidly climbing atop one another in a horrible heap of bone; and a figure appeared; a human like skeleton, tall and glowing eerily about it's joints, bent quickly and took up the demon sword at it's clawed feet. Then looked upon the scene. "Trankular, Kurumar!" the Necromancer ordered. 'kill them!'
The skeleton whirled immeadiatly and stared at the sorcerer on the hilltop, then glared at the still stareing men and people. It lingered uncertainly.
"Gar, jula?" it inquired in an enchanted voice. 'which ones?'
"Kandara-bukala!" came the reply; 'The unhumans!' and the skeleton set it's clawed feet evenly and then leapt suddeny into combat, sword tearing the legion of demons to peices. The Necromancer was chanting again, and the men, seeing this beastly monstrosity of magic was helping them, they gingerly continued to fight on through the confused and terrified demon hordes. Another skeleton had arisen. Then two more, and another, final bone warrior erupted from the cold corpse of a slain green monster. Five terrible warriors now hacked in a triangle through the fleeing, short creatures, their hellish swords slashing and decapitating the beasts in their terror.
"Come quickly, or they will overcome my men and return." Came a grave voice at the woman's side, she gasped as she saw the Necromancer leap nimbly to her side, the other men also stared amazed. The number of demons scattered about them was awe-inspiring, but already one heap of skeletal bones had fallen, the remaining four did not even slow down in thier efforts, but continued mindlessly. "Come!"
"Who. . .how?" the girl whispered, her hand clutching her side painfully. Her eyes were glazed and sleepy. "You are, wounded?" came the far-away voice of the stranger. "Take this. . ." and he reached up and took the amulet from around his neck; he gasped slightly and blinked rapidly as he felt the enchanted stregnth exit his arms and legs. He quickly placed it around the girl's slender neck and said to the closest man; "There is a town, above the hill, people are coming to help you as we speak. Meet them, . . ." another two skeleton's had dropped, the demons were no longer fleeing, they had the last two surrounded. ". . .Go!"
The two men, as if set free from invisible grips, stammered a hesitant 'Yes' and snatched up the blinking, gasping girl gingerly, her eyes looked clearer, but the cut had landed on her side hard, it would be close, if she lived. . .
"The amulet will help her, it is all that can be done. . ." the Necromancer contented himself. But why had he given it her? What had made him care as he had never before? Without it, the ebbing demons would be harder to fight off, and he had not had time to don his armor. . . "Trag'Oul, give me stregnth." He whispered, and he once again felt the thrill of power as gleaming white bones leapt from the cold earth and wrapped themselves around his frame, peicing together a loose, weak suit of armor and a wicked, horned skull helm over his white hair. Green, evil orbs glared viciously from the darkness behind the eye cavities. The last skeleton fell in a disorganized heap. The demons rushed towards him, reasured by the appearance of a large, hideous leader figure who was seemingly screaming orders at the angry masses. The Necromancer caught a few of the evil-sounding, demonic words, but his studying was limited; 'kill,' and 'infidel human' were all he could hear.
The demons, skin bright green, swarmed towards him, eyes aflame with hate and vile intentions, they sought revenge. Over his long years in combat, having first learned the finer arts of sword technique from his father, (who himself had not been a sorcerer but a merchant of wide renown,) he was unusually skilled with the dagger technique, and held his kris in front of him, hilt pointed upwards and the sword blade angled down towards his feet in the dagger-stabbing style. He quickly pulled a vial of black liquid from his belt, and, dousing the blade completely in the powerful poison, he tossed the glass away.
The first demon was fast and panting hard; it's stinking breath blasting out in disgusting, rotten smelling grunts. The Necromancer stood, bent over and with braced feet, the first demon was almost upon him, and it lifted it's grimy blade angrily and cried out in a horrible, bastard language. The sorcerer stood his ground, and at the last minute, spun quickly around and on the end of his turn, swung the sharp kris upwards, slicing through the oncoming creature's jaw, and sending it careening backwards with a pained yelp.
Not waiting for the next enemy, the Necromancer brought his blade around and began spinning and ducking in classic knife-fighter style, bringing the kris down into the back of the next demon, and quickly spinning away with a slashing motion to decapitate yet another vile beast. Without his amulet, however, the sorcerer's swords expertise was waning, and he was soon sweating hard and rapidly losing his stamina.
Many demons all about him began to choke and fall, foam and green rot bubbling forth from thier gasping mouths, and he knew the powerful poison had taken it's toll. The monster's apparent leader watched in horror as his troops were cut down mercilessly; this would require some magic. . .
Much to the fatigued Necromancer's dismay, he witnessed, in a break in one of his turns, the corpse of a slain minion leap nimbly back to life in a dazzling spray of blood which still leapt from it's open wound. A necromancer among the enemy. . .thought the sorcerer to himself, seeing the lead creature chanting in it's disgusting, brutal tounge. More corpses rose, and the warrior swung now weakly to defend, not to attack; he felt blows land upon his cracking armor, soon it would crumble. . .
"Janga!" he screamed, thrusting out his arm with force, and sending a conjured splint of razor-sharp bone flying towards the enemy sorcerer, then fell to hacking away at the horde closing in on him. The spear sped quickly towards it's target, who still had it's eyes closed tightly in concentration; when it opened them, the last thing it would ever see would be the Necromancer; tall and fighting, surrounded by five gleaming skeletons; cutting viciously through his fleeing troops; and a bright, ever growing beam of pointed white-light, speeding towards his face. . .
The Necromancer stood from over the demon preist's slain corpse, now missing it's head, which he held, gnarled and burnt, by it's greasy black hair. His armor, cut and useless, fell from his tired body in peices; only the skull helmet remained, the demons being too short to have reached more than chest level. A gaint skull graced his shoulder, and the gleaming spike on it's crown stood sharp and tall.
His skeletal companions stalked jerkily around, searching as they had been commanded for any valuables that may be found amounst the dead. One excitedly came up to it's master, a fist ful of gold coins in it's thin claws, and seemed to grin as the Necromancer smirked and patted it on it's empty head. He pocketed the twenty-seven peices. It would buy him something cheap, but he needed food. . .
"Hey!" shouted a voice, loud and near. "Where are you, stranger?" The sorcerer spun quickly, and saw the townsfolk searching for the battle on the hill above the plain. The skeltons also stopped abruptly, and cautiously ambled towards their master, should these new creatures be hostile.
"Hala, O'umaka?" one asked. 'they are, enemy?' "Naka." Came the reply. 'No.' Then, "Repaka gin Tumar." 'Get back to work.' The skeleton nodded briskly, it's brittle bones grinding to make an unpleasent sound.
"There he is!" a voice came from over the hill, "Over the. . ." but it stopped short, the call dying in the man's throat. "What the hell is that?"
The Necromancer looked wearily up at the group gathered at the top of the hill, and tried to think of how to explain himself; but then again, the hell with it. . .he thought, and sent the skeletal warriors back to the piles of bone they had come from with a quick flick of his wrist. He picked up the demon head he had dropped, for his scientific studies on the best poison to use against them, and walked briskly through the silent, gaping crowd of men. They parted, terrified, from his path, and closed in hesitantly in his wake.