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The Hunter and the Templar	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6473 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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            As they descended into the cellar, the stench of sickness and death rose to embrace them. It made Haedrig choke and cough sharply. Neither Killashandra nor Kormac were overly affected by such smells. Minding her sling, she gave her crossbow one more inspection and removed the safety catch as the blacksmith made his way among the abandoned cots and stretchers that had been used to move the afflicted.
            "Why did they wait so long to decide to put these poor souls out of their misery?" she asked in a low tone that barely carried beyond the three of them.
            "T'was everyone's hope maybe Cain could find a way to help them recover. Since you rescued him though, he's found nothing," Haedrig said as he looked over the blood and gore-stained stretchers.
            Candles and torches rested along the walls either shoulder-height or on the hard-packed floor. The light did very little to reveal the cellar that well. Thankfully, Killa's eyes were well used to darkness. She could see that despite the cots and bedding, they were the only souls present save a few rats with black eyes shimmering gold in the light of the torches.
            There was another door set into a wall, revealing this house had likely been built by one of the richer citizens at some time or other. Haedrig went to this door and tried to open it. The key refused to turn in the lock.
            "That's odd," he said.
            Leaving the key in the lock, he turned his attention to lifting the bar away. The wood clanked almost sharply when it struck the floor then the wall. He leaned down to try the key again, jiggling it in the lock. Further attempts also led to naught.
            "These have to be the right keys, there are no others made."
            Killa was studying the lock and door intently. Despite the cellar being large, the craftsmanship of the door was rather poor to her keen eye. Considering the simple structure and old, dry wood, she glanced to the metal lock.
            "Templar, how versatile are you?" she asked.
            "What?"
            "Can you charge that door the way you charged the beast a few days ago or is there not enough room?"
            Understanding lit those green eyes as Kormac looked around. Moving to the wall opposite the door, he studied it then nodded. "I can break it easily from this distance."
            Haedrig had straightened when they began to speak. Catching on as well, he stepped aside. Kormac held out the shield and spear for the smith to take. Wisely, Killa moved around to the other side and gave the templar plenty of room as she lifted her crossbow and readied it for use. If the villagers had turned before their arrival, she would be able to buy the other two enough time to re-arm and fight.
            For a moment, it was silent. Kormac took a deep breath, sinking into a partial crouch and bowing his head as he focused on the door. Since he had no intention to break through it and charge head-first into someone (or something), he had to focus on his control. Knees bent, arms rose, he tensed. Then he sprang forward, letting his shoulder lead as he tucked his head down. Metal collided with wood and wood shattered.
            Whether it was intentional or not, Kormac dropped to a knee a few feet after crossing the threshold. It did check his momentum and cleared the way for the hunter to sight and aim. A very good thing. Two figures were in the dimly lit room not five feet from the templar. Neither were healthy humans. Surprised by the sudden explosion of the door, the undead villagers released hungry cries and started toward the fresh source of food.
            A crimson-black lit bolt took the first in the chest, sending it staggering backward and stunning it briefly. A second white-black lit bolt took the second in an eye and spun it around, capturing it mid-spin as ice crackled angrily into existence about the corpse's body to lock it in place. Haedrig was there in the next moment, tossing Kormac his shield and spear while wielding his blacksmithing hammer in his free hand. A second hammer was yanked from his belt the moment the templar's weapons were gone from that hand.
            Partially from her own training and partially because she wanted to ensure neither of the men accidentally hit her again, Killa raised the crossbow to fire a third shot upward. The arrow struck the heavy timber crossbeams of the cellar ceiling and burst into flame. It illuminated the rest of the cellar as bright as sunrise. Not all of the poor victims had turned but many had. Those were heading toward the three causing the racket.
            Haedrig almost faltered seeing--what she presumed had been someone he knew in life--a creature almost directly on top of him, lunging for his throat. He swung one hammer. A lifetime of honing his blacksmithing skills and needing precise strikes to turn out armor and weapons as well as tools came to his aid. The hammer connected with the corpse's skull and crushed it as if it were an eggshell.
            "My friends... I'm sorry!"(1)
            Even as she fired another bolt toward another advancing abomination, she saw Kormac from the corner of her eye locked in combat with three more. His shield was keeping them at bay and one was impaled on the spear he was thrusting with surprising accuracy around the bulwark.
            "Apologies will not lay them to rest, blacksmith! Swing your bloody hammer!"(2) the templar shouted as another undead creature rushed Haedrig.
            Twisting at the waist, Killa turned her next shot toward the corpses trying to get past the shield. Another red-laced black bolt flew from her crossbow, striking the middle corpse and punching into the further one. The first gave an unearthly shriek as it went up in flames while the second roared in agonizing hunger. Kormac thrust the two she had hit off his shield with a mighty shove to use the barrier as a secondary weapon and slam its metal-bound edge into the skull of the corpse on his spear.
            "Sorrow won't save your town, blacksmith,"(3) she called out before turning her attention back to the fight.
            For all the chaos, the battle was surprisingly short. Haedrig had taken to his task with reluctance but fought just as fiercely as Killa and Kormac once he had struck the second blow to lay former friends down. Even as they fought however, their presence only seemed to trigger the final decline of the remaining victims. It mattered little. Hammers crushed bone, spears impaled bodies, arrows set corpses alight in flame.
            It ended as abruptly as it had begun. Kormac yanked his spear from the still-burning corpse that had been the last to attack him. The hunter lowered her weapon but moved to kick a few of the more-whole bodies and ensure they would not rise again. And poor Haedrig...found that in the chaos of the fight, only one familiar face had not fallen before him. He found his wife shrinking back into a corner, terrified and in pain.
            Her body was already mostly wasted as if something had just eaten muscle off the bone without breaking the skin. Milk-glazed eyes stared at him as if they could see. A putrid slime of greenish yellow stained her lower face and chest where she had been throwing up what little bile her stomach held within it. Despite the twisted ruin of her failing body, Mira was still aware, still trapped inside her fleshy prison.
            Whatever agony the curse wrought, it was clearly not pleasant. Even terrified, her body was gripped by spasms and caught in the throes of some internal torment. It should have been punctuated by her screams save that somehow it would not even grant her that mercy of release. No, the sickness was consuming her whole, dragging everything that she was including her soul down with it. That was the true torment.
            "Mira, my love, forgive me..."(4) Haedrig gasped, breath heaving from his fighting and from sobs that were tearing their way up from his chest. Tears trailed pale tracts of clean flesh through the gore and filth on his face.
            "Ahhh!" Mira finally managed to release an agonized cry, more groan than scream. "Haedrig, help me!"(5)
            Killa maintained her distance to watch, weapon ready at her side but still lowered. She was not alone in her vigil. Kormac had moved to stand beside her as if shielding her broken arm as he, too, watched. Both were ready to intervene but this was the smith's task. They would simply ensure that the creature Mira was becoming would not leave the cellar as anything but charred flesh and bone.
            Placing one of his gore-drenched hammers aside, Haedrig reached out toward his wife. His gloved hand found her sunken cheek and cupped her face as he leaned in. Killa's crossbow rose slightly as Kormac's spear lowered into a ready position. Both could easily see the way this could go wrong and were ready.
            Mira's body suddenly thrashed, back bowing so sharply it cracked. Her flesh broke, mouth opening so wide in a scream that the diseased skin peeled back to give her a wolfishly wide maw that opened on either side to her very ears. From that open cavern spewed a foul liquid reeking of rotted meat, vomit, disease, and foulness. It splashed over Haedrig's hand and arm before the smith could throw himself away.
            Where the disgusting liquid struck the ground, the hard-packed earth broke apart. More undead abominations took form as if they had been birthed from a womb and dropped thoughtlessly to the ground. But these were no babies. Each one was the rotten corpse of a fully grown adult. And each one was scrambling toward the fresh source of food. Kormac charged forward even as Killa snapped her weapon up to fire.
            The templar's charge cleared the new abominations away from Haedrig as the hunter moved swiftly for a better line of sight where the smith would not be hit by any of her bolts. At least the man was recovering well. With the templar and the hunter dealing with the newly birthed corpses, he was left to deal with the rising thing that had once been his wife. His hammer swung--only to be knocked aside by an inhumanly strong arm as Mira lunged at him.
            "Kormac, spin right!" Killa shouted even as she took aim and fired in a smooth motion.
            Reacting immediately, the templar spun to his right. In the process, his shield arm arced around and passed over Haedrig's head just short of contact. The result was that Mira's lunge brought her rebounding off the shield and directly into Killa's arrow. The solid bolt struck a bony shoulder and drove Mira back against the earthen-stone wall. The barbed arrow head drove deep into the mortar and lodged there, pinning the smith's wife.
            Shock registered on all three fighters. For Killa and Kormac it was brief as their training pulled them back into the fight to finish off the remaining undead. Haedrig was slower to recover but now that the abomination of his wife was pinned, he could complete his task. Picking both hammers back up, he stepped toward her. That twisted grin of split flesh had revealed all of her teeth in a ghastly repose.
            Just as she began to open her mouth to spew forth more putrid slime, Haedrig brought his hammers down on her body, crushing her skull and driving it down into her ribcage like a nail into a board. Mira's corpse collapsed upon itself, hanging mostly upright only due to the crossbow bolt imbedded in the wall through her shoulder. The blacksmith stared at the corpse, arms limp at his sides. His hammers slid from numb and slimy hands to thump heavily on the floor. In a moment, he fell to his knees at his wife's feet and cried.
            Behind him, finished with the last of their enemies, the two fighters watched. Smoke was thick against the ceiling and charred flesh had overtaken the stench of all else save rot and death. But neither really cared about what they smelled. Killa was watching Haedrig cry before looking to the ruined corpse that had been his wife. There was the slightest hint of a glistening sparkle in her own eyes.
            Kormac remained respectfully silent as well, possessed by his own thoughts. And for a moment, he warred with himself about going to try and give some comfort to the blacksmith. It was a bump to his arm that broke him out of his thought to look to the hunter. She merely jerked her head to the side and quietly moved off to leave the fallen man a few moments to grieve. The templar followed her through the smashed door into the first part of the cellar.
            "Love is the surest road to a tragic end," he murmured quietly, even if it was unlikely Haedrig would have been able to hear him while consumed by pain. "That is why I have foresworn it."(6)
            It was probably a good thing he was looking back to check and make sure the smith had not heard him. Killa turned her head to give him a look that he missed. And as she studied the templar in that moment of incredulity, her eyes narrowed coldly. By the time Kormac looked back to her, her expression was neutral once more. Remaining silent, she just moved to the entrance of the cellar and the light filtering through the opening. Oblivious, Kormac followed.
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Author's Note:
            Yay, another chapter out of the way. Almost to the "good" stuff. I'd really love some feed back though, readers. Talking to all you lurkers out there. What do you think so far? Am I sticking too close to the game-play or not close enough? Like what I'm doing, hate it? What do you wanna see happen? I need some filler chapters still between plot-bunnied ideas so please suggest!
            And if any of you still play Diablo 3, um...you can look up the Clan: <Noc> Venator Noctis to drop me a line if you prefer doing it that way rather than posting a comment--since no one has yet after almost 800 views.
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The Hunter and the Templar