Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

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Pryde
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Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by Pryde » Sun Oct 31, 2010 1:27 pm

OOC: Please post all OOC comments here.

IC:

Darkness...

The abandoned halls of the Cathedral had been so dark, as if a never-ending shadow had befallen that hallowed ground. And within its desecrated halls laid horrors beyond imagining. It was an experience one would never forget, that is if they even lived to remember. Many brave adventurers had foolishly traveled into the Cathedral. Only a few survived, and of those few most had seen horrors so terrifying that it drove them completely mad. More often then naught these poor souls had to be killed in order to prevent them from harming the townsfolk. As more adventurers poured into Tristram to brave the halls of the Cathedral, the villagers could only watch in dreadful fear as more survivors crawled painfully out of the dungeon only to die on the Cathedral 's lawn. One such survivor was Leliana, a Sister of the Sightless Eye, mortally wounded she made her way step after painful step towards the light leading out into Tristram and to safety. Her hands clutched a deep bloody gash in her side and her legs trembled violently as she walked.

She leaned heavily against the cold stone walls of the labyrinth, her determination to survive spurring her onward until finally her legs gave out from under her weight and she fell fell onto her side. Frightened of the fate to come she pulled herself towards the door leaving a bloody trail in her wake. At last she finally reached the exit and heaved herself down the Cathedral's front steps. As she emerged out into the sunlight she could hear shouts in the distance. The rogue could just barely make out several shadows running towards her, and for a brief moment a memory of several small demons charging her flashed in her mind. The fear in her heart leapt to new levels and she painfully reached for her dagger, but the effort was too much and she finally collapsed from exhaustion. The shadow of the Cathedral consumed her vision as she fell into unconsciousness...
__________________________________________________________________________________

A terrible scream ripped through the night, and Leliana awoke with a start. She sat in her bed breathing heavily, glancing this way and that looking for any signs of danger. It wasn't until she felt the harshness of her throat that she realized the scream was her own. A shriveled old man sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room watching her, a smile briefly touched his lips. "Oh joyous day," the man declared happily, "I had little hope that you would survive, but you still had some fight left in you. My name is Pepin, I'm the village healer."

Leliana tried to respond, but the only sound that came to her lips was a harsh inaudible whisper. "I guess the healing process had been very painful," Pepin continued, "Either that or your experience in the Cathedral had been so frightening that it haunted your dreams as you slept. You've been screaming for hours now, the whole village was in an uproar over the noise."

He managed a weak smile before standing to fetch some water from a nearby barrel. He offered her a wooden dipper filled to the brim with fresh water and said, "Here, drink. I imagine your throat is very parched."

Leliana took the dipper graciously and greedily drank the water down, returning the utensil to the healer when it was empty. Pepin took the dipper from her, filled it with more water and offered it to her again. After she had finished drinking Pepin gently laid her back down in her bed. "Sleep now, my dear, your body still needs time to recover," he told her in a gentle voice, "If you need anything I will be here, don't worry."

For a brief moment Leliana managed a weak smile, both thankful for the healer's help and for finally escaping the horrors within the Cathedral. It seemed at last that her troubles were over, and she could sleep easy knowing that she was safe in Pepin's hands. This comforted her and she gently drifted off to sleep. But memories of the Cathedral continued to haunt her and she tossed and turned all night. She saw herself aimlessly running down an endless maze of corridors, always being chased by some unforeseen evil. She ran as fast as she could in a desperate attempt to get away, but the evil kept gaining on her with every step. Just when it seemed like the beast would finally get her she awoke.

Sunlight drifted into the room through a nearby window. The comforting rays of the sun were a sight for sore eyes, and, with a strong desire to see the sun, she gently urged herself out of bed. As soon as her feet hit the floor she winced slightly as a sharp spike of pain danced down her body. With grim determination stumbled clumsily towards the window and leaned heavily against the sill. With one hand she shielded her eyes as she gazed upward towards the sun, its gentle rays of sunlight bathing her entire body in a warm embrace. It took her a full minute to realize that Pepin was standing in the doorway watching her curiously.

“The sun, it’s beautiful,” she said, wanting to say something but not knowing exactly what to say. Pepin came to the window beside her and gazed up at the sun himself. “Yes, it is,” he replied absent-mindedly, “the sun burns away the dark shadow that clings to our town and brings with it shelter against the evil that plagues the Monastery. As long as the sun continues to rise in the east there is hope that our future will be bright.”

As if suddenly remembering something Pepin quickly turned around and retrieved a small bundle from a nearby drawer. “Here,” he said as he offered her the bundle, “I borrowed these from Gillian, our barmaid. It’s about your size, I think. It’s certainly better then that rusty old armor you were wearing before.”

“Thank you,” she replied, taking the offered bundle. Pepin turned to leave, but hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “You might want to have Griswold take a look at that armor for you," he said, turning back to face her, "I’m sure he could fix it right up.”

“No,” she almost screamed the word and, surprised at her outburst, she shyly looked away. “Have him turn it into scrap metal. I--I won’t be needing it anymore.”

“As you wish,” the healer replied before turning to leave the room. When he was gone Isis was finally able to get a good look at the garment he gave her. It was a simple plain brown dress as well as a pair of sandals. She quickly slipped the garments on and used a ribbon to tie her long raven hair up into a ponytail. When Pepin came back into the room he was carrying a steaming plate of meat and vegetables. The aroma of the food filled the room and lightly brushed against her nose, causing her stomach to rumble loudly. “Compliments of Ogden,” Pepin said as he set the plate down on a nearby table. “He accurately deduced that you might be feeling a bit hungry. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you, Pepin,” Leliana replied quietly, “For everything.”

“It was my pleasure, my dear,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “You can stay with me for as long as you wish, or at least until you’re able to travel. The villagers of our town welcome you with open arms.”

Leliana smiled graciously before tearing into the meal offered her, and for the next three weeks she stayed with Pepin. Although she refused to bear witness to the healer’s grim work, she rather enjoyed his positive attitude. It seemed as if nothing could bring his spirits down. No matter what grotesque wound he was tasked to heal or how many poor souls had died in his care he somehow always seemed to remain cheerful. Being away from the horrors of the Cathedral for that first week took some getting used to, but the arrival of a strange new visitor had helped to distract her from her haunted memories. The newcomer was very quiet, he rarely said a word to anyone, and the only time she ever really saw him was when he was discussing something with Griswold.

The stranger traveled into the depths of the Cathedral many times, and after long hours of waiting he would always return. The villagers would gather around him and ask him all sorts of questions about what was going on in there, but the stranger would simply ignore them and continue about his business. After getting his equipment repaired by Griswold, and getting some minor healing from Pepin the stranger would enter the Cathedral again with hardly a word spoken to anyone. Leliana found herself always questioning how the man was able to do it. Her experience in the Cathedral had been the most terrifying experience of her life and she could never bring herself to enter that dreadful place again. Yet this man traveled farther and deeper into the Cathedral then anyone ever has and to her surprise he somehow seemed to remain unchanged.

She spent the next two weeks trying to get close enough to the stranger to possibly build up an understanding about him. She even went so far as to help Griswold with his work in the smithy, but all her efforts were for naught. No matter what she tried the stranger would always seem to ignore her completely. His behavior seemed almost inhuman, and that bothered her greatly. She stood on a grassy knoll on the third and final week watching as the stranger entered the Cathedral for the last time. When it was discovered that the evil being behind all this nightmare was the Lord of Terror, Diablo himself, the hero made a grim vow to dispense with the beast once and for all. And now all of Tristram watched as the man they barely knew but came to love walked bravely towards his death. Leliana almost wanted to scream to him, to somehow persuade him not to go, but she knew nothing she could say would change his mind.

She cried herself to sleep that night, and when she awoke the next morning her eyes were brimmed with red. The next couple of days seemed like an eternity as everyone eagerly awaited any news of the hero’s return. Finally, on the third night a deafening scream rose up from the depths of the earth, a scream so terrible that it struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman, and child within a hundred mile radius. Immediately following the scream was a joyous exultation as everyone in the village came to realize what exactly had just transpired. Somehow the stranger had accomplished the impossible and defeated Diablo in mortal combat. Diablo’s death throes could be heard from miles away, marking the beginning of a bright new future for all of mankind. When the hero had finally emerged victorious, stumbling clumsily forth from the shadowy depths of the Cathedral dragging his sword weakly behind him a grand celebration was held. The entire town had gathered for the celebration and Leliana found herself wandering aimlessly through the crowd looking for Tristram's new hero...

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by xfiend1013 » Sun Oct 31, 2010 9:10 pm

Khanduras.

Zuralu sat near the fire in the encampment. The trader Warriv had stopped his caravan here, amidst the rough-hewn palisades of the makeshift fortress.

The rogues did not trust him, nor could he blame them. He sat in front of a fire using long bone tongs to add a writhing slake-root to an open vial of deamon blood.

Deamon blood was no longer a difficult reagent to come by. It was powerful even when drawn from the insidious imps and crawling terrors that spread across the land.

Warriv and the Seer, Sister Akara, had a theory about this - linked to the presence of the Dark Wanderer, who was not far ahead of them. Zuralu had crossed the bitter mountain passes and treacherous roads that barred his home, the jungles of the Tenganze, from the rest of Sanctuary.

And atop the most frigid of these passes, he had seen the incinerated remains of a once regal tavern. Demonic sorcery had been at work, he could taste it, and he'd followed the scent of foul magics in the air until he'd ran across Warriv and his caravan, headed for the monastery of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye, and the only passage East through the Tamoe Highlands.

"Why did you come here?" Warriv asked him. Warriv had been to the East, to Lut Gholein and Kehjistan, he knew of the world beyond the Western Kingdoms. To him, a man like Zuralu was only passing strange, and since Zuralu had protected the merchant after his crossbow-wielding fighter had died at the hands of a hellbeast, Warriv owed him a bit more than he was being paid.

"Portents. Things foretold that would change the order of things." Zuralu said simply. He poured a bit of hounds' blood over a silver dagger and sliced a thin piece of the drenched slake-root. The root squealed and squirmed back into the tube, which Zuralu plugged with lead.

"You mean the war between heaven and the evils?" Warriv asked. It was a topic that he kept on about after news of Diablo and Tristram had reached them in the mountains.

Zuralu shook his head.

"This world is not alone." He said, placing the root into a channel in a cut bit of bamboo. He placed the green tube into the fire, there was a sizzle.

"There is the world you see, it is created by the actions of the Unformed Land, a true and sacred reality that is covered by this one in which we act. In this world, I may dig a hole or build a city and it does not change the Unformed Land. Yet if you change the Unformed Land, then this land also changes. That is how I perform my magics - I use those things which are close to the Unformed Land - certain herbs, odd bits of lore and knowledge, spoken words, meticulously crafted instruments..."

He dumped the dried out slake-root into a pipe and lit a starter stick in the fire.

"...and I use these to give the Unformed Land the tiniest of pushes. This changes reality in ways I cannot entirely foresee. But what is happening, breaks down the barrier. Soon anything of sufficient power, be it a power-hungry mage, a necromancer, or some foul deamon - will be able to alter the Unformed Land. We are the guardians of the Unseen Land. I cannot allow this to happen."

He inhaled the smoke from the pipe. His eyes rolled back in his head, and a purple smoke curled from his mouth.

His vision left him, went elsewhere. All was still but the crackling of the fire.

Zuralu returned.

"Someone is coming." He said. "The sisters will want them to enter."

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by Pryde » Mon Nov 01, 2010 1:18 am

Leliana awoke in a daze, she moaned inwardly as she rolled over onto her side and hefted herself up onto one arm. She was on a hill overlooking the village of Tristram, or rather what was left of it. Fires still burned inside smoldering husks and the walking dead wandered among the wreckage. Of the townsfolk she saw no sign of any survivors, all that remained were the tattered remains of men, women and children--those unlucky enough to escape the doom that was unleashed upon them. She pulled herself up onto her feet, her hand brushing against something smooth and hard. She glanced at it, her eyes widening at the sight of a bow and a quiver of arrows lying next to her. Had she fought the encroaching darkness? No, the bow looked like it had never been fired.

Her head pounded and she leaned heavily against a tree, the bow and quiver held in her free hand while the other grasped her forehead. Just what exactly had happened? One minute she was at a celebration and the next... What happened next? She couldn't remember. How long had it been since she passed out? She couldn't even remember that. Rubbing her eyes she pushed off from the tree and turned to the east. The monastery of the Sister's of the Sightless Eye lay in that direction, just over those hills. She could be there by midday tomorrow, maybe later if she was delayed. She would worry about the mysteries surrounding the destruction of Tristram later, right now she wouldn't mind seeing a familiar face.

Little did she realize that those familiar faces would not be happy to see her. She made good time down from the forested hills of Tristram and across the plateaus of the Tamoe Highlands. She arrived in an encampment a few miles away from the monastery and the looks that had greeted her would have frightened even the most sinister of vile implings. Leliana walked passed her sisters while giving them guarded looks. It hadn't been so long ago that they had greeted her warmly upon her return from an outdoor excursion, just what was it that had happened to change things now.

"The fated progeny returns," a familiar voice said and Leliana turned to see Kashya walking towards her, "Albeit too little too late for my liking. How convenient of you, Sister, to show up only now after we have lost the monastery."

"Lost the monastery," Leliana replied in surprise, "To whom? When?"

"The dark spawn, of course. They came out of the ground and corrupted our sisters. Those of us who survived were forced to flee into the wilds. We set up this encampment, placing wards around the perimeter to keep the walking dead at bay but now there are only a few of us left."

The rogue didn't want to believe what she was hearing. Her childhood home destroyed, her sisters slaughtered and through it all where had she been? "We could have used you in the defense of the monastery," Kashya continued, "Just where in the nine hells were you?"

Where was she? On a hill near Tristram as far as she knew. Everything from the nights before was a complete blur. "Where is Sister Akara? I must speak with her."

Kashya eyed her sternly, unsatisfied with her lack of an answer. Finally she gestured off towards the far end of the encampment where stood a tent that was taller than those around it. "I pray whatever it was you were doing, Sister, was worth it," she said harshly and then she left, leaving Leliana standing in bewilderment in the middle of the encampment...

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by SmokeMare » Tue Nov 02, 2010 3:47 am

Jerin was trudging through the moors. He missed the open steppe, the sense of freedom and of being at home that came from being in the mountains, but the quest was the quest.

He had lbeen wandering the wilderness for some months now, evil and pestilence seemed to have fallen upon the land. He intended to find out why, he'd heard talk in the taverns and brothels along the way, talk of an nameless evil, destroying the smal town of Tristram. That was his destination now.

A growing sense that Tristram was at the heart of the scourge that had fallen upon the land, the concentration of evil grew ever greater the closer he got to his goal. Now on the Blood Moor, he'd encountered a variety of evil spawn... Even a group of Rogues, the famed Rogues, who had clearly been tainted by evil...

As he thought about this he glanced at the fresh wounds where arrows had pierced his flesh, in the brief and painful encounter with them... He'd prevailed, but not before the corrupted Rogues had spilled his blood.

Jerin trudged on, it was dark now, night was setting in and only moonlight cast it's shadows on the forsaken moor. In the distance... Lights? He peered into the distance, squinting, trying to make out what the array of small lights might be, lanterns? It was too far away for even his keen barbarian eyes to tell. He strode forwards, fearless, but hoping it might be the lights of civilisation, offering some sanctuary from the evil that had plagued his journey constantly for the last three weeks.

Drawing closer, he heard a chittering, the foul cackle of demons, not the bellow of a great demon but something imp-like. He drew his massive claymore from his back and wielded it, listening for....

They burst from a hidden hole in the ground, amongst some nearby rocks, almost overwhelming Jerin instantly, he hefted his sword, but before he could swing it - they were upon him. A mighty boot slammed into the face of the first, little red imp-like creature, slavering and slashing at him with a scimitar... The sound of jaw cracking could be heard over the raucous. However the blow was delivered with such force, it displaced his balance, making him stagger backwards. Another Fallen screaming, lunged at him, forcing his sword to fly from his grasp and he ended up on his back, with the mass of chittering demons clawing to get at him.

Another mighty boot slammed into the face of the nearest one, he glanced around for a weapon, his sword in the bushes, he clambered quickly to his feet and punched the next nearest attacker squarely on the nose. In desperation he reached down, and grabbed the unfortunate Fallen's ankles - still clutching it's shattered nose.

Hefting it into the air he pushed forwards into the mass, sinews stretching and sweat pouring off his brow as he swung the minature demon like a giant maul, slamming it into it's brethren.

The air was filled with screams and crunches as he charged into the mass using the Fallen as make-shift bludgeon, smashing not just the weapon, but it's vile brothers as well...

As the rage faded he threw the now dead and quite badly mashed Fallen into the bushes. A few lucky shots had gotten through, and he was bleeding from small cuts in half a dozen places - the Fallen were all quivering crumpled masses, bones broken and either dead or dying.

Limping slightly he retrieved his sword and rushed towards the lights, he was getting tired, and the sound of chittering was still present, deep in the hole amongst the rocks. Sharp pains nagging at each of his limbs he staggered onwards, sword at the ready now. As the lights grew closer he could see a make-shift wooden fortress. With arrows pointing at him as he drew closer. At the gates a girl with haunted look on her face screamed at him, "Halt! Who goes there! Friend or Foe?" He lowered his sword to his side and looked up, in his deep, booming voice he called out, "I am Friend, I am Jerin Varnika and I have travelled all the way from Harrogath."

She looked at him suspiciously, then a quiet discussion was held between the two Rogues , their arrows trained on him constantly. Eventually the orignal speaker addressed him again, "You will surrender your sword, you will be taken to Akara - she will determine your fate!"

He sighed deeply, then stabbed his massive claymore into the earth, and walked away from it. Soon a gang of Rogues emerged from the gate, half a dozen training their bows on him, a couple, passed him and started wrestling with his sword - struggling, but eventually freeing it from the earth and carrying it behind him. The journey to see Akara was highlighted with suspicious looks, and he felt the tense atmosphere. Each of the Rogues had a weary, haunted look about them, as if they had seen or done a little more than is good for them.

He wasn't entirely surprised, the concentration of evil was greater here than anywhere else on his travels. He'd barely trecked a single mile since entering the moors without being setup by beasts, or demons or worse - and his various wounds indicated that it wasn't without attrition despite his skill and strength.

Eventually he was lead to Akara's tent, she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment as the part approached, then waved the Rogues away, "He comes in peace - leave us sisters." Still clearly mistrusting the bows were lowered and the Rogues departed, handing his sword back to him.

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by xfiend1013 » Wed Nov 03, 2010 9:35 pm

"I cannot believe that they call it the 'Den of Evil." Zuralu said as he piled a mysterious black powder into the carved skull of an imp. "Why not the 'Warren of Evil,' or 'Black Caverns of Saalrooth?"

"Saalrooth?" The barbarian asked. He'd been quite wounded and Zuralu was cooking up a healing potion while he worked on his bombs. The bottles bubbled near the fire, the purple liquids becoming red.

"Saalrooth was the name of a local tribal leader when I first arrived here. He was a shaman, and as his men began to fall to the demons, he made a deal with one of them - trading his natural magicks for demonic influence which he used on his tribesmen, until they all became twisted and evil. They're more demon than man, now."

The potion stopped bubbling.

"And now Akara wants the three of us." Zuralu said, jerking his head to indicate the young rogue. "To go and kill Saalrooth and his tribesmen, who've taken up in a cavern near here."

"Why?" The barbarian asked. Zuralu had forgotten his name - the hulking man had told him, once before, and the voudon had forgotten it after smoking enough pipe weed to inspire him to alchemical action. "I thought the real problem was this Andariel."

"Akara wants us to reach a field of ritual stones guarded by one of the corrupted rogues. I do not know what happened to this woman, but Akara is quite disturbed by her, and feels that she will attack the camp, using the Saalrooth tribesmen as a shock troop and buffer to her forces. Drink this."

He handed the barbarian the healing potion. It held the power to seal up wounds in a matter of seconds, but the unappealing part was that it was made from a cut-open monkey skull lined with odd metals.

But then again, he found that the barbarian tribesmen rarely cared about that little detail.

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by SmokeMare » Thu Nov 04, 2010 1:16 am

Jerin casually took the cup, sniffed it experimentally, raising an eyebrow as he did - then quaffed the whole brew down in one. The taste and texture was bizarre, fizzing and bubbling whenever it contacted his flesh - leaving a feeling of warmth.

Peering into the near empty cup he rubbed his finger in the liquid, then used it to paste some onto one his his many wounds. The gash had started healing already, but the addition of some topical potion sped the knitting up noticeable. He nodded to magician non-chalantly, "Hmmm, good stuff..."

Handing the cup back he sat opposit the spell-weaver, feeling his wounds itching and warming as the accelerated healing cut in. He pondered for a moment, "Hmmm, so... The corrupted rogue, and tribesmen - are going to attack the camp... She wants us to attack the tribesmen... Hmmph! I suppose we should do what we can to make the camp safe before we go looking for... Andariel."

He glanced around the camp, tired haunted faces drifted away from his gaze... How long had they been here? How much had they seen? "The rogues look like a people who have been uder seige for too long... We should rest tonight, and step out in the morning. I have an idea where this 'Den of Saalroth' or whatever it is - might be hidden. It was dark, I couldn't say for sure, but when I was passing that large pile of rocks on the way in - a group larger than could have been hidden behind it surged out and attacked me. Maybe the entrance is near there?"

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by xfiend1013 » Sun Nov 07, 2010 11:20 pm

G'hella Talak had been a wonderfully skilled hunter and herb gatherer before her shaman had forced her to drink deamonic blood bound into befouled spring water.

Now she was a deamonic huntress who was having her head split by a barbarian hero - a tragic and all-too-common end in the troubling times during which she had lived and died.

The barbarians had, long ago, sworn to protect the summit of Mount Areat from those things just such as this, that would seek to harm the precious worldstone within.

Zuralu's people had made a similar promise, long ago. It had been quite different in the details, however.

Jerin slid the body off the end of his sword. Zuralu paused. They were under a tree that stood beside the earth-clotted entrance to the cave in which Saalroth had fortified himself and his hideous followers.

Zuralu sprinkled a small handful of ash onto the corpse. The ash was from a weapon that had once killed a man - the burned crossbow of the caravan guard.

These days there were many such weapons. But the magic remained the same. This was something that Zuralus' tribesmen had learned, in their deal with forces beyond, in their dealings with the Unformed Land.

Just as the barbarians protected Mount Areat, Zuralus' people protected the Unformed Land. And down in this Den of Evil, there were threats to both of these things.

Another deamon, the fallen beast, once known by a human name and now mutated by nameless evil - came howling out of the cave. Jerin ended it with a quick and singular swing.

Zuralu was walking towards the dead body when another befouled and misshappen man came out of the cave. He was carrying a torch and walked with an ornate cane, but the rest of his features, and his broken, bright-red skin, bespoke him as deamon, as fallen, as enemy.

He howled a word in his foul tongue and a burst of flame streaked through the humid air towards Jerin. The barbarian lept over it, crashing down near the shaman.

Zuralu took cover behind a clot of the tree roots. The fallen shaman waved his cane and the tribesman that Jerin had just slain, jumped up, alive as ever, arms flailing as it bore down upon him, animated only by hell-soul dragged to this sphere.

Jerin rightfully paused at the howl the thing gave, and just as he did, the shaman shot forth another bolt of fire. Jerin rolled backwards, coming within a swords-length of the reanimated horror.

He ended it for a second time, the third time the mutilated wretch had died.

The shaman aimed his cane at the corpse near Zuralus' feet. The pinch of ash prevented him from raising the corpse. Zuralu rushed forward as Jerin bore down on the beast, slashed it nearly in half.

He tossed a pinch of ash on both corpses, to prevent them from rising again.

"Was that Saalroth?" Jerin asked, not even panting.

"No." Zuralu said. He searched the dead with Jerins' help.

"Look, one was carrying a potion of healing." Zuralu said. "Now where is that rogue that was coming with us?"

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by Pryde » Fri Nov 26, 2010 12:12 am

"Gauging your skill," Leliana said, approaching from behind as suddenly and silently as a skilled assassin. She could have got the drop on them both but that was not her intention. If she was to travel with these two then she needed to be certain of their ability. "Your strength seems adequate, I am thankful Sister Akara did not choose rashly."

She stepped past the shaman towards the mouth of the cave then bent down to retrieve a torch from her pack. She stuck one end of the torch into the ground and began striking a piece of flint against steel. Within moments the torch was lit and she picked it up, half turning to offer it to Jerin. "You, Barbarian, you will carry this torch and walk in front. The shaman and I will follow behind."

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by SmokeMare » Fri Nov 26, 2010 6:11 am

Jerin took wiped the blood off his hand on the grass before reaching out to take the torch. As he did so he raised an eyebrow at the petit, leather warrioress. Her slight air of arrogance did not unnerve him, nor did her seeming desire to take charge. In reality it was probably sensible that the warrior with the preference for melee took the lead, allowing the ranged combatants to cover his flanks.

He switched the torch and his claymore from hand to hand so the torch was in his left, and the massive sword was in his better swinging arm - the right.

Hidden amongst the rocks was a rocky stone staircase, leading in the darkness. Jerin crept down shining the torch forwards, Zurulu and the Rogue were following quietly, so quietly he couldn't really hear them properly, he could sense them by the change in air flow as the bitter wind howled into the cave.

Nearing the bottom of the steps, the torch was beginning to smoke out the rock tunnels, groans, cackles and evil growls could be heard in the distance. He crept forwards, keeping his sense peeled. As he rounded the first corner, he spotted a lone fallen, leaning on it's spear. As it laid eyes on him, it squealed, and turned to run. Clearly unable to make up the ground Jerin hurled his sword at the beast, but it twisted in the air, and instead of impaling it as Jerin had intended - the handle bonked it on the head, sending it sprawling in the dirt. Cursing at his poorly judged throw he dived forwards, grabbing it before it could recover, and smashed it's head into the hard stone floor two or three times, until he heard the skull crack...

Still kneeling he turned to look up at his companions, "Hmmph! Lookout, I don't think he's alerted the others..."

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by Pryde » Fri Nov 26, 2010 8:00 am

"No, I think you did that for him," Leliana replied irritably as she drew her bow. The sound of howls and screams could be heard in the distance and they were drawing close. "Funny thing about throwing a sword in a cave. The sound of steel hitting rock tends to echo, but then I wouldn't expect a barbarian to understand that."

She lifted her bow and pulled the string back to her cheek. As the first fallen appeared from the shadows she loosed her arrow and took it down with a shot to its head. She quickly rearmed her bow and fired again, dropping a second followed by a third before the little buggers were right on top of them. Leliana quickly retreated backwards to get some distance but in the compact quarters of the cave there was nowhere to go. She drew another arrow and used it as a dagger to stab a fallen in the eye then with a quick jerk she tore it out of the body and set it to the string of her bow, killing another demon as it tried to close on her.

Melee combat was not her area of expertise, she preferred ranged but she was not without options. The long knife she carried on her hip served as protection for when the battle drew too close for a bow. She drew it now and prepared to defend herself when a stirring in the darkness drew her attention. The walking dead approached them from behind the fallen, lumbering towards them as fast as their rotting corpses would allow. Swearing under her breath she shouted above the sounds of battle at Zuralu. "Give me cover!"

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SmokeMare
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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by SmokeMare » Sat Nov 27, 2010 5:11 am

The onslaught had charged past Jerin, just as he'd recovered his sword. Separated from his companions, he looked down the passage towards the sounds of Leliana screaming for cover. Before he could consider whether to rush back to aid, another wave of snarling, fallen, frothing at the mouth was upon him. He didn't have time to swing his sword at the first so he smashed it in the face with the pommel, caving it's already distorted features in, then a hefty kick sent the next sprawling, knocking over it's companions, now with some space he swang his sword with all his might, slashing through limbs, torso, and necks, maiming, dismembering or mortally wounding at least four...

He glanced over his shoulder, but before he could decide what was happening he sensed another wave round the corner and was back in the fray again.

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Re: Diablo: The Road East - Act 1

Post by xfiend1013 » Sat Nov 27, 2010 9:16 am

"Give me cover!" The rogue hissed. Zuralu pursed his lips as the Fallen crowded around them in a stinking, claw-and-saber flurry.

He dipped his dagger in a hollowed-out skull full of a poison, and muttered a short deamonic syllable. The poison bubbled, activated, and Zuralu lunged, plunging the dagger into the shoulder of one of the Fallen. It froze, eyes glazed.

Zuralu slashed again and felled another, then chanted for a moment before throwing down a small satchet onto the corpse. It erupted in a boil of fist-sized centipedes, giant roaches, and finger-length flies that devoured the thing before swarming.

The swarm howled over the nearest beasts, biting and drawing blood and the twisted limbs of the Fallen swatted and flailed, turning and spinning. None fell, but they backed off for a moment, giving the rogue enough time to draw her bow and another arrow.

Zuralu approached the slack, paralyzed half-man that he had poisoned earlier. He took a small pouch of herbs, shoved it into the mouth of the thing, then put out it's eyes with a pair of silver pins he left in the burst and gaping orbs.

"Return." He whispered, to the thing now under his control. It fled into the darkness, past the howling war-frenzied barbarian, which lopped an arm off the thing as it ran past, unflinching, unfeeling as the stone it ran past.

"Don't cut him down." Zuralu said to the rogue before she took aim. "Wait."

Some of the Fallen the barbarian had slain rose again, now deamonic and undead.

Then there was an eruption. The caves shook. Rocks fell from the ceiling.

"We should go." The rogue said as the tunnels ahead of them began to collapse. "What did you do?"

"He exploded." Zuralu said. "His soul burst free and consumed his flesh when he reached the fount of his unholy power - the shaman who turned him into such a beast. The process is... rather violent."

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