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The Hunter and the Templar	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6471 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

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            To become a hunter of demons, you must transform your fear into your hate. Bury all pain and sorrow deep within to fuel the flames of your wrath. Focus your rage upon the source of your loss and pain. Always remember what they did, what they do. Never waver, never doubt, never hesitate. Never show them mercy, for you will never receive it. Turn their own powers against them. Embrace your darkness, discipline your mind and heart to bind it to your will, bend it to your control.
            Master your emotions and clear your mind of all but your ultimate goal. Do not expect life. Do not hope for peace. The path of the demon hunter is one borne of death, traveled with death, and ended by death. You will never be able to return to your old life, even should you survive. Once you embrace your hatred, your world will be forever darkened by their mark. The only comfort you can hope for is to take them out with you when your hunt is ended at last.
            These words and many others like them have been my law for years. As a child, I should not have understood the meaning they conveyed. But I did. The child I once was...died that day alongside my family. What survived was precisely what this path required. I understood what my first mentor was telling me. I never forgot her words. And when her final hunt claimed her, they were branded forever into my soul.
            I had a total of three mentors as I grew, and thus far, I have outlived them all. The odds are hardly in my favor these days. Not only am I approaching my thirty-third year in this world, but I am becoming known amongst the demons. While they have yet to know my name, they know of me and they know I hunt them. No, the odds are assuredly against me. After all, it is rare to encounter one of us that has lived past thirty let alone reaching forty. The handful that have are now our instructors and teachers.
            None of us has ever returned to the life we once had. That was the one thing I did not understand when so young and so new to the sect. I had the false hope that some day, after I avenged my family, maybe I could go back and live life the way it should be. Four years of training and hunting finally removed that hope from me. I found that in embracing my hatred, I gained a lust for killing demons.
            Lust, most religious sorts tell us, is one of the gravest of sins. Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, pride. The seven gravest of sins...although I cannot remember which priest said so. I must have been too young to remember such. Odd that I just now realized I have not set foot within a church or cathedral since I was that innocent young girl some twenty score years ago. I wonder what that priest would have made of the fact my power comes from wrath of the vengeful sort.
            Lust. That's the sin currently on my mind though. Kormac, that damned fool, asked me to purify him. While I'm well aware it's considered a great honor for only the most noteworthy amongst his order...I am not of his order. Still, his fear and failure to overcome it has been the core of what has been eating away at him the past week. How could I not agree to help him recover from that? He is a good man and a worthy warrior. The problem is...I am clearly not as pure a soul as he thinks me to be.
            I lust now. And it was so unexpected that it destroyed my balance. I lost myself in chaos. And none of my mentors ever prepared me for that possibility beyond mentioning that once it had begun, the cycle would destroy me from within. I believe I'd thought they meant I would become what I hunted. Later, that seemed silly. Now...I'm not so certain. Nephalem are part angel and part demon. Although Tyrael's words assured me that no mortal could become one or the other because of that balance...I find I cannot let the thought go.
            I do not fear that I may become a demon, but I am very concerned that I will become worse. The years have shown and reminded me how twisted and broken humans can become. While they may not become demons...some shades of gray are so dark it's next to impossible to tell the difference between gray and black. I will admit that I am afraid of becoming the very thing I hunt. And I have no clue how to turn that fear into hatred. And no one to instruct or guide me in the process.
            One thing that speaking with Tyrael did clarify for me--even if it was not something that I said aloud...this lust I feel is not random but focused. In aiding Kormac with the whip, I...
            There is no easy way to put it so I will--can't believe I'm actually writing this down--put it here. His screams excited me. Now that enough distance is between the experience and this moment, I have enough clarity of mind to better see what happened. Hurting him, causing him to bleed, seeing him bound and at my mercy...hearing him scream for me even if muffled, it was the same thrill and addiction I have for hunting my prey.
            There has not been enough time for me to figure out if I see Kormac as prey or not. I highly doubt it...but...then again... I know I'm still confused. I want to make him scream for me again, I want impossible things, things that the templar will denounce as pure sin. He would never let me do any of them, never want--that's it. That's why I enjoyed it. He wanted to be hurt, that's the addiction right there. But why? Why should it be such a...pull...to hurt someone that wants to be hurt?
            Maybe...it's just him. I have never worked so closely with someone on a hunt before, and never for so long. There is the chance that the extended companionship has given me something I willingly chose to abandon and cast aside when I became a demon hunter. It may be I've been ignoring my own baser needs for too long. Living day to day with nothing but hatred and discipline to control it...leaves very little time for anything else, including other emotions.
            The caravan is slowing. It must be we are about ready to approach Caldeum.

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            Despite the heat, Killashandra drew her hood down closer about her face so the shadow fell lower across her lips. The heat truly did not bother her, but the blinding sun against sand did. The city walls blocked most of the wind-tossed sand from being blown through the streets at least. With Leah and Tyrael heading for the sewers to investigate, it left Killa and Kormac to head for a nearby outpost. Lyndon had elected to stay in their small camp above the city where it was slightly cooler--so he claimed.
            The two guards posted at the gate regarded both hunter and templar warily. However, one nodded and motioned to the other. The second turned to pull the bar back and open the gate. The first was studying Kormac intently with recognition for the style of armor the templar wore. It was likely the warrior's presence that made the guards so receptive and helpful in their cooperation and the directions the first gave to Alcarnus. Killa did not mind at all and merely followed him for the moment.
            Without the protection of the walls, they were blasted by the wind-driven sands and cooked by an unforgiving sun. Kormac clearly fared far worse than she did. Sweat was visible on his face and darkening his hair. It also made parts of his garb darker beneath the metal plates. Squinting his eyes against the light and wind, he trudged more than walked. But to his credit he did not complain or say much of anything.
            Her own armor was heavy enough to make her sweat beneath it, but the hood and mask she had fashioned to protect her eyes and face from light and wind served to pull sweat away from her head and let the wind cool her a little. She moved with a far lighter step as well since she was not weighed down by heavy metal. Her eyes were a mix of green and gray in the shadows of her hood as she scanned the area before them.
            It came as a bit of a surprise when they rounded a rise of rock to start into a canyon only to find a strange woman upon their road. The wind itself seemed to push them the last few inches forward into the quiet of the canyon. Killa was already on guard with bow in hand but no arrow was set upon it. She smelled a trap but her senses did not link it to the stranger before them. Not to mention the woman was...one of the strangest she had yet seen.
            For one, she was dressed in scantly little but a purple-pink top which only supported and covered her breasts, and clinging short gold skirt falling over matching purple-pink...well, bottoms. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun against the back of her head and was the same golden white color of the sand. A belt containing pouches, knee-high boots of brown leather, and a staff with a dark green orb at the top were her only accessories.
            "Take heed traveler. Cultists guard these desert roads, and they will slay any who pass,"(1) she said with a thick accent similar to those of the region but far...richer.
            "I've heard. I traveled here to kill them and their leader,"(2) Killa responded with eyes narrowing.
            "Then you must not go alone. I shall accompany you."(3)
            "You hardly look like a guard or one of the Iron Wolves," the hunter commented.
            "That is because I am not," was the reply before the woman turned to move further into the shade of the canyon passage. "There are illusions out there--mirages, to some--but I can see them for what they are: the Coven's foul magic. They will lead you to your death."(4)
            Something was wrong about this encounter but she could not figure out what that was. It would be better to get rid of this strange woman and be on their way. Even if the sense of a trap waiting ahead was not tied to her, she was not exactly something that Killa felt like dealing with at the time.
            "Thanks for the warning, but I know a trap when I see one."(5)
            A sudden sense of her space being invaded made her stop as the woman walked on ahead. Turning her head, Killa looked to where the templar was staring after the stranger.
            "She looks...different than anyone we have seen,"(6) he murmured just loud enough for the hunter to hear. His eyes were riveted on the woman's every motion. "Her skin is as soft and smooth as polished ivory, and her eyes...they...oh."(7)
            Kormac almost snapped his spine straightening when the woman turned to look back. "Why are you two whispering over there?"(8)
            "N-no reason!"(9) he stammered.
            He missed the look that Killa was giving him. Indeed, she was not entirely certain what type of look it was because there was a mix of reactions to his besotted fixation. Glancing at the woman, she looked back to the templar as something...ugly twisted inside. Quickly, she crushed it down and chose a more normal response.
            "Keep your eyes in your head, templar, lest the sun burn them to ash. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend drooling too much more either."
            "What? I--wait--no! That's not--!" he stuttered protests as Killa walked away, leaving him to catch up as she and the stranger moved on along the road. Even with her own still-volatile emotions confusing her, his reaction made her grin behind the cloth resting across her lower face.
            It was fortunate that the heat had made Kormac's skin darker and redder since it concealed his blush well enough. But after time spent near the templar and the scoundrel during one of their "friendly" chats had shown her what his blush looked like. And it was a tiny thing she enjoyed pulling out of the normally unshakable templar.
            Another mile or so through the canyon and their strange leader suddenly stopped. She looked up and down then moved in a circle. Giving her space, the hunter and templar continued around the bend only to stop as well. The road led to a wall of fallen stones. A rock slide had barred the path through the canyon. Growling under her breath, Killa glared at the barricade as her hand tightened on the longbow. She still smelled a trap--but could not figure it out.
            "Be careful... They are very near to us,"(10) the strange woman said as she came up behind them.
            Killa looked at her. "What do you mean? The road is blocked."(11)
            Just as she finished speaking, the sense of magic crackled in the air as sand bubbled. Spinning back around, the hunter took aim at one of several boiling points in the sand. With more speed than she would have thought they could pull off, cultists poured from their hiding places beneath the ground and charged forward to attack.
            "You should never have come. Demons will feast on your bones!"(12) one of the cultists--a summoner by the fashion and color of his robes--yelled as he began to cast a spell she knew was to bring a demon beast forth to do his bidding.
            An arrow through his throat silenced him and sent him crashing backward with the half-formed demon being yanked atop him from the spell. He had no ability to scream as the twisted thing's jaws opened and closed down on his head, crushing his skull and severing bone and tendon. As the spell was broken, the demon vanished back into the hell-pit it was summoned from along with the head and one shoulder of the cultist that lost control of it.
            "One day, but not today!" she spat with fierce pleasure before focusing on her next target.
            "I've missed killing these cultist scum. Come on then!"(13) Kormac cried as he charged into battle, crashing into the cultists that emerged behind the hunter's back and sending them flying as his shield struck them.
            The strange woman was casting bolts of magic around. Each time one touched a cultist or demon, it burst into flame or crackled as arcs of lightning electrocuted the target. The ambush ended as suddenly as it had begun but with far more blood than the cultists had likely intended given it all belonged to their corpses. It meant the hunter's attention returned to their newest companion.
            "How did you know about the ambush?(14)
            The woman was cool and composed, somehow almost regal when she responded. "I am an enchantress; the ways of magic and illusion are familiar to me. My name is Eirena."(15)
            That sick, dark thing was again twisting, only it was different somehow and Killa was very careful to keep it concealed and her eyes cool and unreadable. "My thanks, Eirena. It seems you are doing a lot more than saving travelers, though."(15)
            Kormac appeared to miss the look that Killa gave him. So, too, did Eirena since she was smiling shyly at the templar.
            "Well... I am also looking for someone. But, here, let me clear the way for you."(16) She turned and brought her staff up to begin making gestures in the direction of the fallen stones.
            Muscle twitched along the hunter's jaw as she fought a war within herself once more. It could not prevent her eyes from narrowing as she watched Kormac continue to stare with a stupid, besotted look upon his face. The longer she watched, the more that vicious thing began to eat at her insides. Keeping silent, Killa bowed her head and drew the hood a little closer about her face.
            Neither of the two noticed the unusual flash of light come from the pale shadows within the cloth. Kormac was too busy offering Eirena one hand to help her step over some rocks that proved not all the barrier had been an illusion. Following slowly, the hunter finally pegged the emotion down with a name. Jealousy. Taking slow, deep breaths, she moved to catch up--because there was the sound of another skirmish ahead. And at that moment, all that Killa wanted was blood.

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Author's Note:
            Dun dun dun! Uh-oh. I'd planned on this chapter being a little longer--and covering more, but alas, my muse is falling asleep as am I. I plan to get at least one more chapter up later tonight, possibly more. We shall see.
            A large shout-out and thanks to my only reviewer so far. I'm glad that at least someone is enjoying the story so far. And in truth, I honestly didn't realize or plan to have it fit so well with the demon hunter lore (I kinda neglected to read up on that and have been writing purely from learning in-game about stuff--but now I'm checking the site for additional lore as well). Thanks for letting me know I did something right, Zanthador64. Hope I won't disappoint you in the future. If I do, just say so!
            Oh, and for you Scoundrel lovers out there...I meant to pull Lyndon more into the story this chapter but it didn't work out cause of time constraints on my writing. Look for him next chapter though!
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The Hunter and the Templar