Oh boy oh boy, I just love this plot now! A Knight in Hell, a Necromancer
versus a Sorceress in a no-holds-barred, thunderstorm, tower-top death-
match? Could things get any better? Oh yeah, and somewhere in those burning
plains of the underworld lies the reanimated manifestation of the Lord or
Terror himself, ready to tear and rip the flesh of all mankind as soon as
the Sorceress completes her reincarnation spell. Can Damathodor kill the
Lord of Terror before he makes his leap into Earth? Can Durag stop the
Sorceress before she unleashes the greatest destructive force the Universe
can ever know?
His legs pumping as he tried with all his might to keep up with his resurrected minion further up the stairs. After what seemed ages, the sorcerer finally saw the climb even out ahead. The monster, eyes blue and lifeless waited stoically as the puffing Durag surmounted the final stairs and, hands on his knees, peered behind to see the great door to the top chambers.
"G-good, my pet, n-now your work is done. You may go." He breathed, and flicking his wrist sent the demon's released corpse tumbling down the stairwell. He took a deep breath and pushed on the great brass ring. The door instantly flew open and the Necromancer stumbled into a well lit, circular chamber. Spell books and parchment littered the room, and a rack of staves and wands cluttered one wall. About twenty short demons lingered before Durag, gritting their sharp teeth and growling in the light, and the Necromancer drew his sword and began to advance.
Easily slaying the first of the diminutive monstrosities with a swift upwards stroke, he whirled on his heels and ripped a gashing hole in the next adversary. The creatures hissed and backed away, trying to reorganize on the edges of the room, pondering the deathly mage in front of them.
"Korumar, Koruma!" breathed the Sorcerer, summoning the two corpses of the slain demons. The bones flew free from the grips of the still warm flesh and built two grand skeletal warriors. Concentrating hard, Durag endowed his creations with the powers of the ancient elements, the first warrior's bony hands blazed suddenly with red-hot fire. The second shuddered slightly as his own hands surged with the white hot lightening of the storm outside. "Now go, my children of darkness, have fun." He breathed, and, understanding, the twin warrior mages began furiously blasting the terrified demons.
Watching, impressed with his creations, Durag smiled happily as the final demon, jittering uncontrolled with electric shock, caught a flaming fireball in the chest and doubled over into the wall in a final wail of pain. Moments later two more flame-fisted skeletons rose from the ranks of the dead and saluted their new master. "Yes, my dark army. Let us continue, the Sorceress awaits in the next room, and we grow impatient to meet her!" Durag said.
"Nilmarhar, Gilgishar!" shrieked the closest mage skeleton, grinning wickedly with his empty eyes. "Yes to kill! For the Master!" and the others excitedly took up the cry, "For the Master! To Kill! To Kill!" They hopped up and down. Durag smiled at his pets and prepared one final spell before the final battle. Pulling a small steel dagger from his belt, he inserted a small, glimmering emerald into a socket on the blade hilt. Tossing the poison-endowed blade to the floor a few feet in front of him, Durag closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the small weapon.
With a tremendous clashing sound, the blade melted and splattered to life, molding upwards from some unknown source and forming a huge, steel monster, jaw set, face impassive and human-like body bristling with poison-dripping spikes. An Iron golem, towering high above the four skeletal mages, thundered a hollow, metallic cry, reverberating heavily off the stone walls and shaking the stone in the strongest support. The Necromancer smiled and made for the door to the final chamber, ready to face the final battle.
The Sorceress heard the bellow as well, high up in the next room, and whirled around to face the door. Summoning in her fright her most powerful lightening spell, she braced her feet and prepared to face the impudent Necromancer. She had to stall him for a few minutes before she could open the portal for her Lord, just a few minutes, she thought to herself. The heavy wooden doorknob twitched slightly. She had locked it. A muffled, taunting voice sounded from behind it.
"Knock, knock." The Necromancer's singsong voice filtered through. The Sorceress narrowed her eyes. Come on! She thought impatiently, Open the door so I can FRY your puny soul! She thought to herself. Then a huge, gray metal fist smashed through the thick wood as if it were paper. After the gigantic, hulking golem stepped through, the rest of the party followed, last of all the Necromancer.
"Ahem," Durag cleared his throat, "I said Knock, knock." The Sorceress let loose her spell of lightening upon the giant beast in front of her, and white-hot static blinded the room.
Miles below, the red glaring portal sealed with a terrible sound over the form of the brave Knight Damathodor. Falling endlessly into the hellish light all around him, the Paladin whipped about his sword and readied to come to the opposite end fighting. He set to prayer and concentration.
A single, cloaked figure awaited the Knight as he burst, screaming and swinging his sword furiously into the shadowy hallway. The figure smiled under its hood, it's pitch black face burst from under the cloth, blazing white flames of wings tearing through the thin material and revealing a fell angel, body completely black, but surrounded in cooling bluish white flames. A crown of silver topped the heavenly head, whose white gleaming eyes showed out distinctly on the dark face.
"Who are you?" asked the Knight, standing at bay a few steps away and hiding behind his sword and shield. He looked with wonder and wariness at this new apparition. In response to the question a white flame erupted on the being's chest, tracing out a design of a gleaming blade imbued in a glowing helm. Several gleaming runes shone out under the symbol and the Knight glanced to his own worn chest plate. The same symbol appeared through the scratches and bruises of the battles so far won.
"I am the angel Nekka." Thundered the angel's deep voice. "Angel guardian of the warrior and the same being whom you yourself honor with your armor." The great wings folded over the spirit's back and a Great War Hammer, red flaming inscriptions scrawled across it's surface, swung gently into view at Nekka's side.
"Nekka, the angel of war." Breathed Damathodor. "You are the guardian most honored by my brotherhood, we are the Knights of the flaming helm! Chosen men of the warrior guardian!" The Knight bowed upon his knees and, removing his helmet, crossed his sweaty forehead.
"Rise, oh chosen one, child of faith, and receive the blessing of your guardian." The angel commanded, and Damathodor, rising, felt the blood in his veins surge with strength anew and his arms and legs gain new power. He felt he could punch through the heavy stone temple in a single strike. His weariness left him, and a cool breeze weaved gently under his hot, sweat- soaked armor, cleansing his skin and refreshing his body. His hair, matted and wet, tingled and dried fresh, and his hands, under his mighty gauntlets, were soothed and made ready for battle anew. He breathed heavily as the blessing passed.
"Damathodor, chosen of the Paladin of righteousness, this final blessing I grant you in your hour of need; a strength above that of any mortal human in your time. A great strength to smite your enemy and combat his hell-born power." Nekka said, raising his hand over the soldier of right and showering him with heavenly might. Damathodor knew he could topple the temple now. . .
"Now, my child, my chosen warrior, follow the hall of discord to reach the threshold of evil and find the dark lord in his chamber. Diablo awaits his evil servant's call, destroy him and rid the earth of his pestilential evil. With luck your companion shall dispatch the sorceress, but regardless, the Evil one must be destroyed." Commanded the Angel, and evaporated.
"There shall be a great battle, oh guardian." The Paladin said. "and your servant shall not fail you!" And with that, he turned and ran towards the far door, inhumanly fast in his new strength. Running through the door of the last sacred temple, he came upon a mighty steel door, and on the other side heard many hundreds of demons, garbling and screeching in the gloomy land of Hell. The Knight slowed and stopped before reaching the door. He was not so foolish as to run straight into his enemy.
Outside the demons, large, muscular brutes two persons high, with putrid swords and thick greasy chains wrapping their limbs and chests, stomped about in two large groups of twelve each, tasked with guarding the door of discord against intruders, they awaited their impatiently.
The mighty door remained closed and immobile in the gloom. The demons milled about, swords ready, and all senses directed at the door. Damathodor clung, silent and watchful, to the wall about twenty yards to the right of the door. He had climbed the wall and picked out his first victim in the near crowd of fiends.
"AAAAAAAHHHH!" screamed the Knight, flying from the dark wall to land with a bone breaking crunch on top of the nearest creature, his blade slicing through the next foe's neck as if it were butter, sending the head spinning away into the air. Stunned, the first group fell in turn under the blade of Athos, the Paladin ducked and rolled beneath a beast's legs, lifting his sword to sever the creature's privates, and rising in back of the bending thing to wedge the cold steel into it's spine.
Whirling to his right the heavy shield of the Knight cracked hard into the bent jaw of another beast, shattering the monster's bones and sending it reeling backwards with a freshly cut gaping hole in his stomach from the Knight's whirling blade. Two more demons of the first group fell within seconds. Barley breathing hard, the Paladin braced himself for the next group, standing poised and furious over his twelve slain corpses. No demon from the second group remained in the gloomy night. They had all of them fled the terrible soldier of light.
Damathodor smiled and ran after them, towards the towering threshold of evil in the distance. Bursting through the doors, the blood of ten more demons warm and dripping from his sword, Damathodor's boots clanked on the steps inside the temple itself. Deserted. The Knight stalked the flights of stairs, looking intently for any foe; he found none.
Arriving at the top of the impossibly long stairs, the Knight looked in awe upon the chamber of the Lord of Terror himself; columns a hundred feet high held the ceiling of high above his head. A pit of fire bridged by a single stone slab led to the center of the room, a giant pentagram etched in red, glowing stone, and a man, dressed all in black clothing, standing at the center, his back to the Knight. Stretched before the man, glowing red in the dark chamber, was a pedestal of darkness.
"Diablo." The Knight whispered, glaring at the man, at least a hundred yards in front of him. The figure turned his head slightly in the gloom, and, turning all the way around to see the Paladin, cocked his head quizzically.
"Yes?" came his echoed answer to the Knight's barely uttered address.
His legs pumping as he tried with all his might to keep up with his resurrected minion further up the stairs. After what seemed ages, the sorcerer finally saw the climb even out ahead. The monster, eyes blue and lifeless waited stoically as the puffing Durag surmounted the final stairs and, hands on his knees, peered behind to see the great door to the top chambers.
"G-good, my pet, n-now your work is done. You may go." He breathed, and flicking his wrist sent the demon's released corpse tumbling down the stairwell. He took a deep breath and pushed on the great brass ring. The door instantly flew open and the Necromancer stumbled into a well lit, circular chamber. Spell books and parchment littered the room, and a rack of staves and wands cluttered one wall. About twenty short demons lingered before Durag, gritting their sharp teeth and growling in the light, and the Necromancer drew his sword and began to advance.
Easily slaying the first of the diminutive monstrosities with a swift upwards stroke, he whirled on his heels and ripped a gashing hole in the next adversary. The creatures hissed and backed away, trying to reorganize on the edges of the room, pondering the deathly mage in front of them.
"Korumar, Koruma!" breathed the Sorcerer, summoning the two corpses of the slain demons. The bones flew free from the grips of the still warm flesh and built two grand skeletal warriors. Concentrating hard, Durag endowed his creations with the powers of the ancient elements, the first warrior's bony hands blazed suddenly with red-hot fire. The second shuddered slightly as his own hands surged with the white hot lightening of the storm outside. "Now go, my children of darkness, have fun." He breathed, and, understanding, the twin warrior mages began furiously blasting the terrified demons.
Watching, impressed with his creations, Durag smiled happily as the final demon, jittering uncontrolled with electric shock, caught a flaming fireball in the chest and doubled over into the wall in a final wail of pain. Moments later two more flame-fisted skeletons rose from the ranks of the dead and saluted their new master. "Yes, my dark army. Let us continue, the Sorceress awaits in the next room, and we grow impatient to meet her!" Durag said.
"Nilmarhar, Gilgishar!" shrieked the closest mage skeleton, grinning wickedly with his empty eyes. "Yes to kill! For the Master!" and the others excitedly took up the cry, "For the Master! To Kill! To Kill!" They hopped up and down. Durag smiled at his pets and prepared one final spell before the final battle. Pulling a small steel dagger from his belt, he inserted a small, glimmering emerald into a socket on the blade hilt. Tossing the poison-endowed blade to the floor a few feet in front of him, Durag closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the small weapon.
With a tremendous clashing sound, the blade melted and splattered to life, molding upwards from some unknown source and forming a huge, steel monster, jaw set, face impassive and human-like body bristling with poison-dripping spikes. An Iron golem, towering high above the four skeletal mages, thundered a hollow, metallic cry, reverberating heavily off the stone walls and shaking the stone in the strongest support. The Necromancer smiled and made for the door to the final chamber, ready to face the final battle.
The Sorceress heard the bellow as well, high up in the next room, and whirled around to face the door. Summoning in her fright her most powerful lightening spell, she braced her feet and prepared to face the impudent Necromancer. She had to stall him for a few minutes before she could open the portal for her Lord, just a few minutes, she thought to herself. The heavy wooden doorknob twitched slightly. She had locked it. A muffled, taunting voice sounded from behind it.
"Knock, knock." The Necromancer's singsong voice filtered through. The Sorceress narrowed her eyes. Come on! She thought impatiently, Open the door so I can FRY your puny soul! She thought to herself. Then a huge, gray metal fist smashed through the thick wood as if it were paper. After the gigantic, hulking golem stepped through, the rest of the party followed, last of all the Necromancer.
"Ahem," Durag cleared his throat, "I said Knock, knock." The Sorceress let loose her spell of lightening upon the giant beast in front of her, and white-hot static blinded the room.
Miles below, the red glaring portal sealed with a terrible sound over the form of the brave Knight Damathodor. Falling endlessly into the hellish light all around him, the Paladin whipped about his sword and readied to come to the opposite end fighting. He set to prayer and concentration.
A single, cloaked figure awaited the Knight as he burst, screaming and swinging his sword furiously into the shadowy hallway. The figure smiled under its hood, it's pitch black face burst from under the cloth, blazing white flames of wings tearing through the thin material and revealing a fell angel, body completely black, but surrounded in cooling bluish white flames. A crown of silver topped the heavenly head, whose white gleaming eyes showed out distinctly on the dark face.
"Who are you?" asked the Knight, standing at bay a few steps away and hiding behind his sword and shield. He looked with wonder and wariness at this new apparition. In response to the question a white flame erupted on the being's chest, tracing out a design of a gleaming blade imbued in a glowing helm. Several gleaming runes shone out under the symbol and the Knight glanced to his own worn chest plate. The same symbol appeared through the scratches and bruises of the battles so far won.
"I am the angel Nekka." Thundered the angel's deep voice. "Angel guardian of the warrior and the same being whom you yourself honor with your armor." The great wings folded over the spirit's back and a Great War Hammer, red flaming inscriptions scrawled across it's surface, swung gently into view at Nekka's side.
"Nekka, the angel of war." Breathed Damathodor. "You are the guardian most honored by my brotherhood, we are the Knights of the flaming helm! Chosen men of the warrior guardian!" The Knight bowed upon his knees and, removing his helmet, crossed his sweaty forehead.
"Rise, oh chosen one, child of faith, and receive the blessing of your guardian." The angel commanded, and Damathodor, rising, felt the blood in his veins surge with strength anew and his arms and legs gain new power. He felt he could punch through the heavy stone temple in a single strike. His weariness left him, and a cool breeze weaved gently under his hot, sweat- soaked armor, cleansing his skin and refreshing his body. His hair, matted and wet, tingled and dried fresh, and his hands, under his mighty gauntlets, were soothed and made ready for battle anew. He breathed heavily as the blessing passed.
"Damathodor, chosen of the Paladin of righteousness, this final blessing I grant you in your hour of need; a strength above that of any mortal human in your time. A great strength to smite your enemy and combat his hell-born power." Nekka said, raising his hand over the soldier of right and showering him with heavenly might. Damathodor knew he could topple the temple now. . .
"Now, my child, my chosen warrior, follow the hall of discord to reach the threshold of evil and find the dark lord in his chamber. Diablo awaits his evil servant's call, destroy him and rid the earth of his pestilential evil. With luck your companion shall dispatch the sorceress, but regardless, the Evil one must be destroyed." Commanded the Angel, and evaporated.
"There shall be a great battle, oh guardian." The Paladin said. "and your servant shall not fail you!" And with that, he turned and ran towards the far door, inhumanly fast in his new strength. Running through the door of the last sacred temple, he came upon a mighty steel door, and on the other side heard many hundreds of demons, garbling and screeching in the gloomy land of Hell. The Knight slowed and stopped before reaching the door. He was not so foolish as to run straight into his enemy.
Outside the demons, large, muscular brutes two persons high, with putrid swords and thick greasy chains wrapping their limbs and chests, stomped about in two large groups of twelve each, tasked with guarding the door of discord against intruders, they awaited their impatiently.
The mighty door remained closed and immobile in the gloom. The demons milled about, swords ready, and all senses directed at the door. Damathodor clung, silent and watchful, to the wall about twenty yards to the right of the door. He had climbed the wall and picked out his first victim in the near crowd of fiends.
"AAAAAAAHHHH!" screamed the Knight, flying from the dark wall to land with a bone breaking crunch on top of the nearest creature, his blade slicing through the next foe's neck as if it were butter, sending the head spinning away into the air. Stunned, the first group fell in turn under the blade of Athos, the Paladin ducked and rolled beneath a beast's legs, lifting his sword to sever the creature's privates, and rising in back of the bending thing to wedge the cold steel into it's spine.
Whirling to his right the heavy shield of the Knight cracked hard into the bent jaw of another beast, shattering the monster's bones and sending it reeling backwards with a freshly cut gaping hole in his stomach from the Knight's whirling blade. Two more demons of the first group fell within seconds. Barley breathing hard, the Paladin braced himself for the next group, standing poised and furious over his twelve slain corpses. No demon from the second group remained in the gloomy night. They had all of them fled the terrible soldier of light.
Damathodor smiled and ran after them, towards the towering threshold of evil in the distance. Bursting through the doors, the blood of ten more demons warm and dripping from his sword, Damathodor's boots clanked on the steps inside the temple itself. Deserted. The Knight stalked the flights of stairs, looking intently for any foe; he found none.
Arriving at the top of the impossibly long stairs, the Knight looked in awe upon the chamber of the Lord of Terror himself; columns a hundred feet high held the ceiling of high above his head. A pit of fire bridged by a single stone slab led to the center of the room, a giant pentagram etched in red, glowing stone, and a man, dressed all in black clothing, standing at the center, his back to the Knight. Stretched before the man, glowing red in the dark chamber, was a pedestal of darkness.
"Diablo." The Knight whispered, glaring at the man, at least a hundred yards in front of him. The figure turned his head slightly in the gloom, and, turning all the way around to see the Paladin, cocked his head quizzically.
"Yes?" came his echoed answer to the Knight's barely uttered address.