Disclaimers: I own no part of Diablo II! I've decided to redo that piece of crap fanfiction to redeem myself, and to stave off boredom at the end of the year... So that it's not all crappy as it was. So yeah, hopefully you'll enjoy this mooooore! To those who are the slightest bit confused, yeah, I'm MisstressFanGirl, but due to Yahoo hating me... I kinda had to remake my account. Give comments and critiques, but please, keep the flames to mild.
Nor do I own the phrase 'Christ Chex', and if you're offended by that term, then you fail at usage of a brain.
: Chapter One:
Oddly enough, she had expected that being stuck in a video game would have been more... Well, entertaining. Her expectations had been greatly ignored, and in the back of her mind Ran-ran couldn't help but wonder if this was all the work of Karma. Or perhaps it was merely a dream, one which would soon loose its overall angst feel and become utterly silly, as they were known too. Yet the hours and hours she had been sitting there, bored, were evidence against it.
Maybe she had just gone insane, that was always a possibility.
Chocolate brown eyes peered through thinly rimmed glasses at her current surroundings, at the decrepit camp and few rouges that managed to get out alive from the monastery. There was almost hopelessness to the air that made Ran-ran feel a touch blue herself. They sky was thickly covered with a blanket of soft pewter gray, and the small camp with the few tents and wagons and people all seemed to blend perfect. Shadows danced back from the fire she sat at, beneath her a long log that was covered with pale yellow lichens and was hard on her rump. But at least the fire was warm, and for a moment Ran-ran took time to simply notice how comfortable it all was, the slight autumn chill in the air and the warm of the fire clashing pleasantly. It was cool enough to keep her comfortable, and yet warm enough to keep her pale olive skin from quaking with shivers and covered with Goosebumps.
Ran-ran sighed a bit and wrapped her arms around her abdomen, mind musing about the possibility of this being a dream. What would have been the point of it, anyway? She hadn't been playing Diablo II obsessively as of late, nor had she thought of the game all that much. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, wondering what her mind could have been trying to tell her, what her subconscious was trying to betray behind her eyes. Maybe it was the way she felt on the inside...?
Looking down at herself, trying to take in what she was wearing, maybe that would hold a clue to the dream's meaning. That blue shirt, one of her favorites, a soft light shade with black vines upon it, with a delicate design of white of a woman's profile. It was soft, cottony, short sleeved. Underneath the shirt she could feel the tightness of that corset her brother's friend had given her, the cups of it just curving about her small breasts. Odd, why was she wearing that? Not that she really needed it either; her body lean and in fact under weight, even for her elementary-school height. But she quickly forgot about that matter, smiling as she looked upon the slate-blue of her baggy pants, just loose on Ran-ran's legs and mostly-covering her booted feet. Reaching up to flick about the area just in front of her neck, Ran-ran smiled at the pretty jingle of the bell tied to the studded fake-leather collar about her neck. At least her manner of dress was the same, but it was then that she noted the weight in her lap, and blinked as she looked down.
Around her body, and under her right arm was the dark gray strap, attaching to the black-jean material of her courier bag. It had been fairly new, acting in place of her backpack through out the New Year of high school. Ran-ran really did like it, smiling as she stroked the fabric, and upon closer inspection found that the sack was rather full. Unable to help her curiosity, she pulled the strap from around her body, setting the bag up right as she pulled the flap up, wincing at the familiar ripping of the Velcro being pulled from its grip. Her two folders, both covered in silver gray duct tape, a hair brush, sharpies in several different colors, a bottle of vodka, that scented candle her brother had bought her for Christmas, a bag of stay-puff marshmallows, and a large box of strike-anywhere-matches.
The interesting collection of items kept her mind occupied for a time, Ran-ran tempted to down the alcohol and loose her sobriety –after all, what teenager in their right state of mind actually wanted to be sober? -- But then thought better of it. After all, was it even possible to become inebriated in a dream? With a sigh, she closed took out the brush. It was maroon, with black bristles, an old present from her grandfather's girlfriend. Ran-ran reached up, tugging the hair band holding her hair in a bun atop her head, shaking her head once it was loose, fragrant hair falling about her shoulders. Its recent coloring from a dark chocolate brown to shades of red and purple for the tips and part about her face had faded just, now a raspberry shade that held hints of fuscia highlights.
For a time she brushed it, noting how oily her hair felt. It was annoying, and Ran-ran felt a great compulsion for a shower, wanting to wash the locks until they were clean and dry and soft. But she stopped, remembering with a frown that she was indeed still stuck in this world of medieval technology. There were no showers, no computers, no CD players or batteries. And worst than that, it was a world facing an Armageddon, one which might go array from the game's plot and instead, and allow the three brothers to succeed in their plots-- and yet there she sat brushing her hair of all things. It was shocking, and made her feel helpless and overwhelmed, like a stack of homework yet undone lay before her, and was due the next day of class. Only this time she knew that it could mean her death. Ran-ran forgot the fact that the situation might be a dream, allowing her to slip from lucidity and go along with it fully and completely.
Her mind rushing with plans and wondering where to start with perhaps helping to save the world, Ran-ran sat up straighter, putting her brush away and pulled her hair back. She made quick work of the locks, binding them into a tight braid that guaranteed that none of the hairs would stray into her face. Tying off the end with a tight black rubber band, Ran-ran then closed her bag, and then pulled it over her body once again.
Standing, Ran-ran smiled just to herself as light drizzle started, driving the merchants into their tents and wagons, and before Warriv had a chance to invite her out of the cold rain, she had started out. She shifted her glasses on her face just, ignoring the looks the rouges gave her as she exited the fortress' tall wooden barriers. Into the Blood Moor, the very first level of the game which the lowest level of worriers went, where the player was to start out on. The largely flat plan had a thick fog on its surface, nearly opaque, allowing her to see only a blurred outline of small cottages, trees, and of slowly moving figures every now and again.
Ran-ran took a deep breath, smiling keeping as a knot of nervousness found itself pulling itself in her stomach. Only, it felt more to the point of doubt, and as she walked along the path, father and farther from the safety of the rouge's camp she realized... She couldn't fight the forces of evil! At least not by herself. What could she possibly do that would make a difference, throw lit matches at them while singing drunkenly? Even though she wanted to help, she felt as if she couldn't, a 16-year-old girl, who just brushed against the five-foot mark, weak in her own body, a useless worrier! Hell, even the starting-out character classes had some strength or magic skill to help them along their way, but she had nothing.
"What in the Hell am I doing?" She asked herself, Ran-ran looking back to find the walls of the encampment hardly in her sight anymore. Surrounded in fog, alone and vulnerable, she shivered and hugged her arms about herself. The small gesture did nothing to help her to calm the growing feeling of fear. She felt like screaming, of ducking her head into a dune of sand to hide and hope the feeling of danger would pass.
But the sound of something almost human, of another living creature made her jump, heart skipping a beat in fear, the foggy air carrying the sound of a moan. Ran-ran recognized it immediately, knowing the unenthused sound was of one of the most-basic minions of evil in practically every game, of the very symbol of evil that was the very driving force and reason for several series of games.
Zombies.
She gave a squeak, stopping in her tracks as she listened, hearing the sounds of slow shuffling. They were getting closer it seemed, louder and soon Ran-ran could see the fog darkening to show a moving figure. She held still, not moving at all as she heard the creature mumble with its decaying vocal cords.
It stopped, suddenly; the tall man just five feet from her now. His skin was pale, parts of it blue and black and the air about them starting to smell of death and rot. Images of maggot-filled corpses lying by the railroad track found their way into Ran-ran's mind, making her stiffen. Eyes that were dull turned towards her, the clothes on the creature ragged and dishealved, his head looked as if his scalp had been ripped, its skull-cracked open and a large portion of his brains missing.
"Braaains..." was all it got out before the dead muscles driven now by demonic and necromantic magics drove the living dead creature forward, arms out-stretched as it started forward quickly to her. Naturally, if any living dead creature was stumbling towards one, Ran-ran took several shaky steps back, crying out in distress. Her eyes were wide, and the sudden thought of saving the world entered her mind. This was the deciding point, she knew, for weather or not she could actually follow through and make an effort. Now was the moment she had to choose, sink or swim, fight or run away screaming like and little girl. With a slight cry to battle, sounding more something that belong to a fighting ninja in any number of animes she loved so, Ran-ran had curled a hand into a fist, digging her toes into the mud and flew forward. The blow connected with the zombie's face.
It stumbled back just a foot or so, as if in shock. The zombie seemed to pause for a moment, as if checking to make sure its perspective on the world was still correct, that a small girl had actually punched him. During this time Ran-ran backed off in slight fear, waiting to see what it would do next. Her fists were still raised, though memories of her characters of low level nearly dying trying to punch a zombie to death made her doubt that punch did much more than confuse the monster. The zombie started forward again, with a new vigor for the fight, and with a squeal, Ran-ran had turned and started running, crying out as if it would do any good,
"AH! Run away run away!"
Fortunately for her, however, the zombie was rather slow. In fact it was very slow, and Ran-ran stopped as she noticed the creature was far behind her, grinning as she reached into her pack, bringing out the bottle of vodka and strike-anywhere-matches. The zombie was gaining on her as she took out a few matches, and unscrewed the hard liquor. She was tempted to taut the living dead, though knew it wouldn't have done that much good as it drew closer. Ran-ran took a swig of the alcohol, wincing as half a mouthful went burning down her throat, the rest she kept in her mouth. She stuck the match, the drizzle not able to stop the small flame from lighting. Taking in a deep breath through her nose, Ran-ran lifted the burning match, the zombie growing closer.
Then, she sprayed the vodka out of her mouth, the liquor exploding into a ball of fire as it passed through the flame, and the zombie was caught in the middle of the inferno. The moistness from the drizzle was immediately evaporated as the fire caught on the clothing and skin of the zombie. It didn't even cry out in distress, but Ran-ran did as it continued to chase her, fire burning on its form and mumbling about brains more.
"Crap crap run away run away!" She screamed as she dropped the burning match, turned and started to run again, not even putting any effort as she knew the zombie was slower, "Flaming zombie flaming zombie! Run away run away!"
So they were like this for a time, Ran-ran running and the zombie chasing. But the fire kept burning, and after slowing to a quick jog, she often turned around to check that the zombie was still both burning and following her. They had gone far off the beaten path, and Ran-ran eventually led the zombie in a slow circle around a well. It had had enough it seemed, the zombie, and after reaching out to Ran-ran one last time, collapsed. The oddly familiar sound made her tilt her head and stop, blinking as she looked back.
Still, the zombie burned, and beside it, lay a bundle of arrows. Ran-ran looked down at them, an eyebrow raised. She gave a slow blink, brow giving a soft twitch as she pursed her lips, taking a deep breath through her nose. After a few quick blinks in the moment of slight awkwardness, Ran-ran tilted her head to the sky, the dark pewter gray sky, and said as if talking to a deity,
"All that... For fucking arrows! What the fuck! Couldn't I at least have gotten something useful like a dagger? What the fuck dude! What am I suppose to do with fucking arrows!"
The sky gave no answer, though the drizzle had lessened just the slightest bit. Ran-ran narrowed her eyes at the clouded sky, lips slowly relaxing back into a frown. Her gaze slowly turned back to the arrows and the burning corpse. With one fluent motion, Ran-ran was sitting on the ground; legs crossed indian style as she drew out an arrow. Then, she poured more vodka on the corpse, not about to let the fire die out. She smiled as she corked the liquor, putting it away as she drew out that bag of marshmallows, and pulled open the clear plastic to impale several white confections on the shaft of the arrow. Now if only she had some chocolate and gram crackers.
But for the moment, Ran-ran was able to forget about that as she held the marshmallow over the fire, letting the heat brown it to a beautiful golden. It was a good moment then, quiet and calm. Ran-ran knew that she couldn't simply go throughout the whole game spraying enemies down with ignited vodka—she'd run out of vodka, and more than likely run into fire-resistant monsters. Besides, what would she do when swarmed with enemies, hope they stand in an orderly fashion to die? No no, that was no way to go about doing things, what she needed was someone to help her.
"Now if only I had my necromancer character here…" Ran-ran mused as she lifted the marshmallow up, as if speaking to it, "Then some serious ass would be kicked…"
She sighed as she shook her head, blowing on the mildly caramelized and hardened shell of the marshmallow before happily eating it. Ran-ran gave a slight giggle as she chewed, licking the arrowhead clean and putting it with the rest of the arrows, then putting the quiver in her pack. Then, she stood, drank from the well, and had decided upon exploring more. Of course the bottle of vodka and box of matches were at hand incase another living dead or quill rat was happened upon.
And so, Ran-ran walked through the fog, not even bothering to try and find the beaten path. It was much easier to simply pick a random direction and follow it, as she had neither slightly transparent map above her head—or any at all really-- nor compass to point her in any direction. Through the fog a structure was slowly becoming apparent, large as a cottage, though much more open. Ran-ran smiled as she carefully approached, listening intently for whatever might have been inside. It was a familiar structure, with only a wall on one side while the other was open with only a few poles holding it up. Peering around the corner, her expectations of another battle dropped as she found herself face to face with a red and white furred bovine.
"A cow?… There are zombies running about, Andariel is reeking havoc on the gate-thingy, the three bros. of doom and doing their whole thing… and yet there's still a cow?" Ran-ran asked as she approached, putting vodka and matches away. The creature looked at her, and she looked right back at the cow. After a moment the creature turned its head back to its hay, and Ran-ran leaned against the wall of the shelter. Gently, she reached out and stroked the large animal's side. Its fur was rather coarse, but held a warmth to it that was rather welcome, "I guess the zombies aren't interested in you, ne?"
Ran-ran sighed and tilted her head back, in the distance hearing the high-pitched cries of the Fallen that wandered the moor without a shaman to resurrect them. Sure, they were known pussies that would run away at the first sign of resistance, but she felt reluctant to go and tackle the problem at hand. It was worst than trying to get up and go to school, because at least she knew what lay ahead of her at high school. At the moo of the cow, who turned herself a bit though, Ran-ran opened here eyes again, the blinked a bit, her mind processing a though, which quickly hammered itself into a plan.
Soon she was smiling, bracing herself against the wall as she climbed upon the cow's back. It didn't seem to mind though, only making an odd little sound at the extra weight. Not that it was much though, Ran-ran not even weighing 100 pounds. But it did make her slightly nervous, the hard back of the cow between her legs, feeling the slight shifting of the creature as it wasn't sure what she mean to do up there.
"Aye… I know the Hindus hold you cow's really sacred and all… so I'm uber sorry about what I'm about to do… But honestly I think that you fair better against these demons than I." Ran-ran said, one hand gripping tightly to a handful of hair, the other reaching into her pack to pull out an arrow.
Before Ran-ran really knew what was going on, the cow had given a loud sound of distress and pain and shot forward—taking her with it. As it bucked and stampeded forward she couldn't hold in the scream of fear and distress. Past quill rats and zombies and shrines they went. She had dropped the arrow, holding tightly with both hands as they passed the entrance to a cave pained with blood. Ran-ran's whole body was shaking in what she knew was a horrible idea. That is, until they passed the fallen, the cow seeming as if it was chasing down the red imps to trample them under its hooves.
But that did nothing to quell the growing fear in Ran-ran as the sound of running water alerted her to the river they were approaching. Not that she would be able to see her body shoken back and forth with every buck of the cow beneath her. It was a feat that her glasses didn't fall off in the entire process of her managing to hold onto the creature. However, her grip failed at last, and with one sharp buck Ran-ran was sent flying from the cow's back, and onto the ground hard. She landed on her back, bouncing and rolling onto her side. The thinly framed glasses landed somewhere a few feet from her.
Ran-ran groaned as he rolled onto her back, eyes squeezed shut from the shock of the pain that was just settling into her body. The cow sped away, over the bridge she lay just before. She didn't even notice the sound of bones against the cobblestone or footsteps as they neared, pausing her inward musing of her injuries as someone spoke to her.
"Dear God child, you must be insane to try and ride a cow like that." Someone said, their voice and deep and masculine, holding just hint of an accent that reminded her something of british, or maybe of some eastern tongue. But she recognized it right away, even if it varied slightly from the voice she knew so well, "Are you alright?"
"Oooh, crap… That hurt, nyaaa…." Ran-ran groaned after a moment, rather quietly as the wind that was knocked out of her was slowly gained back with deep breaths. She squeezed her eyes hard one last time before slowly opened them. And her inward guess was right about her the owner of the voice that was kneeling by her. He was pale, beyond the normal rates of humans, his hair and skin both whiter than snow, and his face held a slight gauntness. But he looked rather youthful, despite looking slightly aged, with a light of curiosity and concern in bright blue-green eyes. The armor he wore was of blackened metal, the shoulder pieces and breast plate having some similarities to that of bone, while the dagger in his hand shone a slimy green hue to it. Behind him Ran-ran spotted animated skeletons, four of them, bleach white and holding weaponry, unmoving, as their empty sockets seemed to glare down at her. She managed to push herself up, with a pained groan, saying quietly, "Uuugh… I'm fine, I'm fine…"
He rose an eyebrow, helping Ran-ran too her feet, then marveled at how short she was—perhaps a foot beneath his own height. She got her glasses back on her face, shifting them slightly as the pain from her soon-to-be bruised body.
"Do I dare ask what you were doing riding a cow to begin with?" The necromancer, quite randomly placed on the moor, asked as Ran-ran looked around to get her barrings.
"Getting past some creepy little Fallen things," She said in response, though her voice reflected her absent interest in the subject, eyes wandering. They stood near the bridge that linked the two halves of the Blood Moor split by the river, the fog about them seeming moderately dispersed by the presence of the burning torch near the bridge she failed to notice before. Looking back at the death mage before her tilting her head a bit as she asked, "And what are you up to wandering about the Blood Moor?"
At this question, however, the necromancer seemed mildly confused, his brow furrowing as he reached back and plucked from under his arm a loosely rolled length of paper. Unrolling it, those sharp blue-green eyes scanned over the worn, yellowed paper for a time, pale rose lips whispering to himself. A map, perhaps? After a time of the necromancer glancing from the paper's surface to the surrounding areas, he looked back at her. One of his eyebrows was quirked just the slightest degree upwards as he said,
"Is this not the Cold Plain?"
Ran-ran blinked, looking around and wondered if perhaps this particular necromancer was navigationally challenged in any way. She stepped closely next to him, looking over at the map, and then at the area around them. Reaching up, Ran-ran took the map gently from the necromancer's hands to turn it 180 degrees about.
"It was upside-down…" Ran-ran said to explain her actions at the stare she had gained from him, then, turning and walked past the skeletons, starting over the bridge, calling over her shoulder, "C'mon! Cold Plain's this way!"
He reluctantly followed her, allowing Ran-ran to be the navigator for the time. Walking on the beaten path once again, she rolled the map back up, but kept it on hand. But in the silence of the moment, she realized that this was the chance she had been thinking about earlier. With this randomly placed necromancer and his skeletons she had a greater chance to actually help with Sanctuary's saving!
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" The tall necromancer asked, glancing down at her, his tone of voice hopeful that she was wrong and yet hopeless in the embarrassment at not being able to even have the map held correctly.
"Yes, I am, Mr. Necromancer." Ran-ran sighed, smiling just a touch as she looked up at him, that last part added merely to gauge his reaction. She just hoped, in the back of her mind, that he didn't end up sending his skeletons after her, because that would be the absolute failure of her day. Instead, he acted with slight suprise and for the next five minutes or so lectured her. Something about 'respecting one's elders' that Ran-ran rolled her eyes at. Typical teenager reaction, finally cutting in at a pause of the lecture to ask in a semi-sweet tone of voice, "Okay okay, what do you want me to call you? Fluffy? Dude? Peter Piper?"
"I want you to call me by my name, not a generic and offensive title."
"Which is?… And don't tell me 'Mr. Necromancer' offends you!"
"It does, and for any future reference my name is Necromi, thank you very much."
"Oh, like that's a big- wait… Um… Never mind… I'm Ran-ran…" She blinked, having heared the name she herself came up with for her character. Sure, it wasn't exactly the most original of names for a necromancer, but Ran-ran had always like it. But she had to wonder if it was a coincidence of her dreams that he was named that, or if this necromancer was really her necromancer. If so, Christ Chex, her character was uptight, even for someone who was to be responsible for saving the world.