Diablo 2: Visions of You | By : ladyjasmine Category: +A through F > Diablo 2 Views: 5244 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo II, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Diablo 2 – Visions of You (Part 1)
By Lady Jasmine
____________________________________________________________________________
Legal note: Diablo 2 does not belong to me. This is meant as a
parody. It contains adult situations, so please do not read this if you’re a
minor in your country. Thanks so much. If anything is indented within this
chapter, it means it's a reflection of the past, alrighty? And thoughts are in
italics!!
------------------
I've been asked as to what the order to read my stories in is:1. Longing to be with youApprentice is a silly short piece and is a steaming pile of crap. I don't recommend reading it if you were hoping it would be like my other stories.
__________________________________What next?
The question still echoed in the depths of his mind as he leaned back on the
tattered and velvet pillow of a murky sky blue. His pale blue eyes watched as
the candle’s flame of the lantern danced in the cargo of of the Lut Gholein
transport ship, Encantadora, as it sailed away towards Kurast.
His thoughts turned back to the beautiful auburn haired woman he loved so
much. Alys... he thought to himself leaning back against the pillows
with a sigh. It seemed like only a week ago, instead of six months, that he was
kissing her, holding her tightly and smiling every time she said, "I love you,
Ferrum."
Ferrum pushed his meal, which remained only as chicken bones now, away from
him and glanced over to the corner adjacent to him, still far froe doe door.
Perched on a crate was a buff-looking barbarian, sharpening his axe with rough
motions of a rock. Ferrum winced. He hated that sound, it made the blonde hair
on his body stand on end. The whole time they had been in this room, he had not
one word. He had the conversational skills of a deaf-mute.
Turning around to dig into the leather satchels he had laid back upon, he
untied its ngs.ngs. His fingers brushed glass bottles. Nope. He opened
another, this time feeling bits of dried herbs. Nope.
A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. "What?" he greeted the knock, not
bothering to turn around.
***
Swinging the heavy door open, he peered into the room. His green eyes darted
from the crates to the bags and the rope nets dangling from the ceiling before
redundantly asking. "Is this one of the cargo rooms?"
"No," the blonde-haired man with his back turned answered.
The thick orange eyebrow furrowed slightly. Did he just hear a faint trace of
sarcasm? "Oh... ok." He glanced at the royal blue cloak draped around the
blonde's shoulders and then at the barbarian sitting in the shadows of the
corner.
"Oh, shit, sorry," the druid apologized..He quickly closed the door and set
out in search of the cargo room despite the nagging feeling in the back of his
head that he was being played for a fool.
Ferrum would've laughed had the quiet and moody barbarian was not present.
Glancing over to the silent barbarian, he saw a slight twitch on the corner of
his mouths as he lifted a wine goblet to his thin lips. Another wine-filled
goblet and three minutes later, the druid returned.
"Are you sure?" he asked, observing Ferrum skeptically.
Ferrum didn't look up. He smiled crookedly and pushed a few locks of his long
blonde hair away from his face. "This is the cargo room."
The door opened wider as the man stepped in, closing the door behind him. "I
thought so." Carrying the leather bags slung over his shoulder, he settled into
a corner of low and evenly stacked crates. Seating himself onto the crates, he
turned and watched the swaying motion of the blonde man's cloak as it brushed
the bits of sand and dirt of the wooden floorboa
When the blonde man turned around and removed his cloak, the druid nearly
choked on his wine.The man was dressed completely in black, save for the
brilliant iron armour pieprespressed to his body and the leather belt upon his
hips with an ancient-looking yew wand tucked into it. A necklace, with a rather
large skull jewel dangling from it, still stained with blood. The armour that
was his breastplate, was designed to look like the ribs of a human sken win with
the spine running down the middle in front of his muscular belly.
--The hell??! the druid thought in shock. He's a
necromancer. He glanced up to his face as the gloved hand his short
sandy-blonde hair, he smiled, blue eyes gleaming.. "You're a
necromancer...?"
Ferrum grinned lopsidedly, his right blue eye twinkling. "Yeah, Ferrum's the
name. Who are you and what's it to ya?"
"I'm Rune... and well, most necromancer’s I’ve seen have white hair..." he
paused, hesitating. Should he really be criticizing someone so familiar with
death? "..Long white hair...."
Nodding, the Ferrum plopped himself onto the floor, glancing over at the
barbarian in the corner of their shared cargo room. "Yeah, well, I’m still
pretty new at this, so... my hair has yet to turn white from stress, or
conjuring too many curses, I guess."
"Kinda... strange, don’t you think?" the barbarian gruffly spoke up, finally
getting the attention of the two other men and finally convincing Rune that he
really wasn't a deaf-mute.
The blonde man rolled his eyes like a royal brat irritated with being
interrupted by a lowly servant. "Who are you?"
"Omega’s the name."
He retaliated with another charming grin. "Well, Omega, at least I HAVE
hair." He threw the large burly barbarian a glare too quickly to catch, but Rune
saw it and turned away, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a slight
smile.
The barbarian scowled slightly before turning his attentions back to whatever
it is was he did before.
"Tell me, what's with the cloak?" Rune suddenly spoke up.
Ferrum turned to Rune as he sat down. "What about it? It's a gift from my
girlfriend." His fingers toyed with the smooth and heavy cloth of the royal blue
clothing in question.
Rune arched an eyebrow. "I see..." He shook his head. "I always assumed that
necromancer's didn't thrive on.... colour."
The blonde smiled oddly. "Don't clump me with the rest of the masses. I'm not
trying to make a fashion statement, it was a gift, so I'll use it regardless of
how many monsters are drawn to it." He paused and sardonically added, "It also
brings out the colour of my eyes."
The driud barely fought back a groan. "I see."
***
Rune's sour thoughts turned back to his month spent in the desert city. Once
the verbal slap was given from Nevia, he had wandered around the city, turning
only to Atma. The woman was kind enough to let him stay in her tavern. In return
for food and shelter, he was the one to keep the rowdy mercenaries and sailors
under control. Several times, at least twice a day, a brawl occurred. All it
took from the druid was a threat to conjure a volcano in the midst of the
scuffle and immediately the guilty parties were silent and forgiving to one
another.
The time he had spent at the drink-serving and girl-fucking establishment
would have been priceless to him.... but it wasn’t. Several times, he found
himself unwig whg whenever a lusty barwench tried to seduce him. Even the most
desirable one of them all, aptly named Desiree, couldn’t evoke any inviting
response from him. Her bronzed buxom beauty felt rejected once he sent her
away.
***
(Author's note: In case you didn't bother to read the note left above:
Anything indented like the paragraphs below indicate something that happened
in the past... flashback, reminiscing, etc.)
In the small room designated as the guest’s quarters, Desiree’s slim arms
wound lightly around Rune’s neck as she sat sideways upon his lap. "Does my
looks please you, Rune?" Her sensuously red lips curled into a sly smile as
her eyelids dropped halfway. Her dark brown eyes, now appeared smoky with
desire... her trademark look it was.
Rune looked at her, his eyes absorbing every luscious curve of her hips
and trim waist. As much as he felt like taking this gorgeous woman in his
arms and ravishing her, he knew he couldn’t. His conscience wouldn’t allow
it.
He glanced away, making no attempt to push her away.
The woman frowned, turning upon him and straddling his groin, where she
could feel the hard poke of his erection. "What’s wrong, love? You want me
yet you don’t speak.... cat got your tongue?" She smiled, leaning forward
and pressing her soft lips against his as her hips undulated against him in
the ancient rhythm.
Rune made no attempt to kiss her back. Desiree’s kiss became more
insistent. Her tongue slipped across his lips in asking for entrance. His
lips never parted and she retaliated, pressing more dmineminedly. Her dark
chocolate eyes watched his emerald eyes as they gazed back blankly at her,
uninterested.
She eased her mouth away and smiled to herself. "Ahhh... I see, playing
hard to get now?" She slipped away from him, easing herself off the body
seated upon a stool. She walked several steps away and turned back to him.
"Why didn’t I think of it sooner?"
As part of her seduction tactics, she walked slowly toward him, her hips
hypnotically swaying. The gold and silver adorning her wrists, belt and
slippers, jingled to the slow beat of her pace. Her hands abandoned her
hips, sliding up the sides of her torso to then gently slide over and away
from her generous breasts. She bit her bottom lip teasingly. The hazy look
in her eyes, the sway of her long black cascading hair, the long slender
legs barely hidden under the blue gauzy material of her loose pants; it all
was inviting to Rune... but not to his conscience.
He averted his eyes. "Desiree, you should get back to work. You still
have drinks to serve."
***
The worse part of it, was the rumors that spread around after every woman was
turned away. All of it was clear to him.
"Maybe he’s incapable of performing..." one had said, covering her mouth to
let out a girlish giggle.
"No, no," another girl had joined in. "Maybe he’s got a disease?"
Desiree laughed at the two of them. "I got it, maybe he prefers men!"
When he had walked into the room, they didn’t even bother to stop talking
about him. Rune was fully aware that he was the butt of their jokes, but didn’t
care the least bit. The laughs of the women faded from Rune’s mind as he sunk
deeper into his depression.
He heard shuffling sounds in the room and flicked a glance at the barbarian
a rum rummaged through his bags.
Rune's weight sank deeper into the pillow with cheap and crumbly stuffing as
he ran one hand through his orange wild hair. The sound of a lute leaked into
the room, muffled by the wooden walls and the door. Must be that damn
minstrel... or bard, whatever the hell he calls himself, Rune thought,
irritated. He nearly punched the lanky man back in the ng ang area when he
announced he was going to sing the hauntingly sad song "Eternal Beauty's
Death."
He shuddered, clearing his throat to himself after the lump formed within.
The last thing he needed was a tune meant to make him fell anymore like
shit.
Abruptly jamming a hand through hiarsearse orange hair again, he sighed. He
needed a bath. The last time he had one was three days ago, prior to Nevia's
sudden visit. Her visit, though odd, was much appreciated if only she hadn't
brought the bad news of her departure.
***
"I wanted to tell you..." Nevia started slowly, nervously glancing around
the guest’s quarters and making sure her gaze didn’t slip to the small bed in
the corner. "Erix and I are leaving back to the Rogue Encampment tonight."
"Oh, I see... settling down?"
Her hands latched together tightly as she hesitated before changing the
subject. "So, how are you?"
An awkward silence blanketed the two of them as both their gazes dropped to
the damaged floorboards.
"I’m sorry," Rune spoke up, looking her in the eyes. "I’m so sorry for what
I did to you."
The sorceress nodded, "I know, Rune. I forgive you... you are my friend
after all. But..." she sighed. "Erix doesn’t share that idea. So please be
careful if you every see him."
Rune nodded. The warning had came one day too late. Early yesterday
morning, Erix walked into the bar and, having spied Rune, punched him in the
gut and emptied a mug of ale on the druid’s head before storming out.
The air still felt rather tense between him. It didn’t help at all when
Rune suddenly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the woman in an
affectionate embrace.
"Rune!" Startled she tried to push him away. "No! Please don’t!"
He refused to budge. Leaning his head down, he pressed his lips against her
smooth forehead. "I wish you and Erix the best... really, I do. And, I really
am sorry for all the pain I caused the two of you.... even though I know you
probably hate me." Only afte spe spoke did he let her go and finally take note
of the astonished expression Nevia held.
"Rune... thank you," she lowered her head. "I still am rather angry at you
for setting up Rune and Fara like that...."
"I didn’t mean to scare you like that... sorry. I just..." he purposely
avoided talking about his old plot of stealing Nevia from Erix. He glanced
around, his jaw flexing. "Kissing you is just bad timing on my part..
especially now."
"Promise me you won’t do that to anyone," she suddenly demanded.
He frowned. She's asking me to never kiss someone??! he thought,
surprised at her outrageous request. "I can't make that promise... You're
asking me to swear to celibacy, I won't do it."
Nevia stared blankly, "What?" She paused and let out a soft titter. "No,
no... I meant don't do what you did to Erix and I.... And you won't let anyone
else do that so long as you know about it."
Rune’s calm face returned. "I promise... I can keep that."
She nodded again and smiled. "I’m glad. And... I’m sure Erix will be happy
to hear that, even though he won’t admit to it."
"I don’t blame him," Rune murmured, feeling as though the paladin punched
him in the stomach again.
"Well, hopefully, if we ever cross paths again... you’ll be over... well,
you know."
Rune nodded grimly. "I hope so too."
***
He smiled at the thought of Nevia. She truly was a good person. He
knew in time she'd fully forgive him... she was like that, just too good to be
real, too sweet to be a sorceress, and too caring to be a human living in such a
cruel world.
Nevia's words rang out to him again, "The world isn't cruel, only people like
you are."
He winced noticeably. That simple sentence she had said to him had been his
undoing. It was true, he couldn't deny it. He was cruel to her. She was happy
with Erix and he tried to twist the situation so he was in Erix's stead. Even
though Rune's feelings were still with Nevia, he felt it was more on the level
of respect than love. He also wanted to feel needed... and seeing the way she
looked at Erix, he wanted that for himself.
A small bubble of anger and jealousy rose within him when an image flashed
into his mind; Nevia, lying naked with Erix, dressed (or lack of) just the same,
atop her with his arms encircling her lovingly. Reaching for the wine goblet
that he had left upon a crate, he finished the rest of the thickly dry
liquid.
There were still traces of his affection for Nevia. God, he had even tried to
trick her into sleeping with him. He groaned, leaning his head back against the
wall. What a fool I am... he thought. He knew his actions were 'for the
greater good' and he just couldn't stop that foreboding feeling that had boiled
within him when he first lay eyes on Erix. It was unsettling... and... he didn't
want Nevia to die just because her lover couldn't protect her.
He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion between the two different
pasts. No, he argued with himself. What was I thinking? Erix
was a paladin, trained under the Church of Zakarum and known as "A Protector of
the Word." The man could fight, but Rune believed it wasn't enough.
"What exactly wasn't enough though?" he asked himself with a frown. Erix
loved Nevia, anyone with eyes in their head could see what ran between them. He
obviously was an honourable fellow who would willing give his life for her.
Honour. That word sent chills through him. How long has it been since he had
been called 'honourable?' An involuntary shiver coarsed through his spine. He
had learned that even if one does honourable deeds, it is not always for the
best.... honour must be sacrificed at times. For the better good, right?
Sighing, Rune’s hand fumbled with the small burlap coin purse tied to his
belt. Untying the ratty strings, he poured out 500 gold coins Meshif had payed
him and sighed. Earlier in Kurast, the ship captain had been busily rushing
around, approaching warriors and magicians alike, begging for help.
Apparently, pirates had attacked the most recent ship he sailed in towards
Kurast and, miraculously, the desert ship captain swam back for safety. The dampirapirates, he claimed, had boarded the ship and won with ease. On board, other
than the crew (more skilled with rowing than fighting), was a small band of
warriors. They didn’t last very long, he had said. Each and every one of them
was disposed of either by death from a blade or being tossed into the dark
waters.
The payment, up front, was 500 gold coins and free passage to Kurast along
with entertainment, food and drink. If any pirates came along and were then
disposed of, Meshif promised to award the warriors on board with 4500 gold
pieces each. There were about ten warriors to take up on his offer. Judging by
the looks of them, almost all of them were mercenaries. He could only assume
that Ferrum and Omega were mercenaries as well... even though Ferrum seemed
different than the ones her was used to.
The door swung wide open and a female voice suddenly screamed out like battle
cry. "YOU!!!"
Rune’s eyes nearly bugged out in response to the angry feminine voice.
"Krysta...?!"
"What the hell are you doing here?!!" She stepped forward and at the moment,
the ship ghastly creaked. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat and slowly
approached him, her body leaning back and forth to match the tossing of the
water.
"Going to Kurast," he answered flatly, glancing over at Ferrum then
Omega.
Ferrum seemed immediately interested in the woman after he gave her a
quick head-to-toe glance. "You two know each other?" He seemed rather amused at
the prospect.
"Shut up, Blondie!" she hissed and turned to Rune, ignoring the scowl Ferrum
gave in resp to to his new nickname. "What the hell are you doing here??!"
"You asked that already," Rune seriously pointed out. Ferrum laughed out loud
and was rewarded with another glare from Krysta’s dark eyes before he finally
backed off.
"You bastard," Krysta continued on with the tongue-lashing. "Are you stalking
me??"
Rune sighed, "No, don't get your hopes up. And I was here first. I should be
asking whether YOU are the stalker."
Ferrum failed to keep his broad grin in check. Krysta frowned upon the both
of them and readied her katars. "I should kick your asses..."
As quickly as the threat had been delivered, Ferrum was on his feet, standing
between the twke ake a mediator even though one of Krysta's targets were him.
"Please! No violence!"
Rune quirked an eyebrow amusedly. For a necromancer, Ferrum was.... a walking
contradiction. Necromancer's thrive off of death and violence, and there he was,
screaming for peace.
"Just don't be a dumbass then." Turning away, Krysta hastily made one corner
of evenly stacked crates in the room hers. She sat down upon a wooden crate and
crossed her legs as she slowly disarmed herself. Her eyes were on Rune the whole
time. Obviously, she felt no trust towards him.
Rune sighed, watching the assassin's angry, dagger-shooting glare fly at him.
He turned his gaze over to Ferrum as he seated himself beside the assassin,
trying to start a conversation with her to lighten the mood. "So, where you
from?" was his attempt before the assassin slowly started to talk with him.
The druid's green eyes trailed to Omega. The eyes were fixed on Krysta,
tracing the curves of her lean body, the generous but teasing view of her
cleavage and her shapely legs. Rune suddenly felt the urge to box Omega's ears
in until they bled if it meant his leer would end.
Krysta suddenly stood up again, harassing the druid once more for his
wrong-doings against Nevia.
With his mind not the least bit upon Krysta's words, he frowned. He really
did not like the way Omega was looking at Krysta. "Sit down and shut up," he
barked at the assassin, taking notice of the older brother protectiveness within
him that had boiled to life like it had once with Nevia.
"What?!" she flatly responded with a matched tone. "Is that supposed to be an
order?! Who the hell do you think you are?" She crossed her arms defiantly.
"I'm your stalker," he replied smoothly.
That threw Krysta off completely. Ferrum simply snickered, shaking his head
at the rather odd, though cleverly timed, come back. Due to the loss of words,
Krysta glowered at Rune, Ferrum... and then at the barbarian.
"What are you looking at?" she spat fiercely, curling her hand into a tight
fist.
Licking his lips, Omega didn’t respond right away. His eyes seemed to devour
Krysta’s form in a ravenous manner. "Nothing special," he replied in a dark
voice with a small smirk.
In the next instant, Krysta was giving him third degree, telling the
barbarian exactly what she thought about him and not sparing him from the
smallest insult. "You assmunch!" had finished her insult spouting speech. With
that, she settled back into her seat and turned to Rune again, wanting to poison
his mind even more.
"I heard Nevia spoke to you yesterday... I was a little surprised..." is what
she had said.
Rune nodded, knowing full well where she was heading. And hs ris right.
Krysta's mouth opened to speak, "I can't believe she'd speak to you after what
you put her through."
Ferrum flicked a curious gaze between the two of them. "What?"
He was ignored again. "I'm also quite pleased that they're leaving to the
Blood Moors again. At least you won't bother them, even if it is duty that
calls."
Puzzled, Rune questioned the 'duty.'
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Apparently some band of cultist dark rogues managed
to resurrect some powerful monster." She sighed. "They've taken over the
monastery again."
An unwelcoming feeling ran through Rune's limbs. Before he could ask, Ferrum
spoke up. "Andariel?" he asked, the dread dripping in his voice.
"No," she shook her head. "Not her. The Countess."
Rune nodded nervously, his palms growing clammy and his breath freezing in
his throat. To him, that was worse than Andariel. He felt as though the world
had froze, trapping him in the icyson son of helplessness once more. He must've
dropped his goblet without even realizing it, for in the next moment, Ferrum
groaned, "What a waste of wine."
Blinking, Rune noticed the dark stain of the wine upon the wood and the
goblet lying on its side next to the puddle. "Damn," he muttered with a foul
curse, picking up the goblet and setting it aside before he rose to his full
height and stalked out of the room. The stormclouds above his head were
noticeable to Krysta and Ferrum.
Ferrum, oblivious to what was going on, called to him, "Could you bring me a
wine bottle when you come back?" When Rune didn't answer, he muttered dejectedly
under his breath, "Okay, thanks for listening."
Krysta smiled to herself. She felt that her presence was the
reason for his gloominess. If so, then this trip would be quite enjoe foe for
her.
***
Leaning against a bar while perched on a stool, Rune grimaced to
himself. How could they bring her back to life?? he thought bitterly,
anger and hatred bursting within his mind and soul. He hated the Countess with a
passion and had every reason to. He downed another mug of ale, clouding his
thoughts further.
A tap on his shoulder startled him and he reached for a dagger.
"Whoa! It's me!" the startled voice cried out.
Rune blinked at Ferrum before turning back to his mug. "Don't
sneak up on me like that."
"Alrighty," Ferrum sat down upon the stool next to him,
regarding him cautiously. "You alright?"
He grunted. "I suppose so."
Shrugging, and not really wanting to pry the truth out of the
druid, Ferrum walked over to a nearby table, engaging in some friendly
conversation with a group tough-looking mercenaries. Even Ferrum, with his odd
necromancer style wasn't the least bit intimidated. He even dared to take the
plate that carried the whole roasted chicken (though small).
Hearing the word "Pirate" from one of the mercs, Rune sighed and
sat up straight on his chair as he tried to shut out the sounds of chatter. So
far, there had been no signs of pirates, but still, everyone was on
edge.
The young blond necromancer seemed to be the only one unaffected by the
prospect of pirates. Rune could see that as plain as day by the confident grin
he wore and the brilliant gleam in his blue eyes as he leaned upon the table,
chatting with those on board.
"Who cares? More practice for me!" he had bellowed happily, tossing his hair
over his shoulder. His laugh was full of mirth as he took the glass of ale
offered to him by one of the more grimmer-looking mercenaries. With one hand
holding the plate of the roasted chicken and one with the ale mug, he drank
merrily. After one sip, he was hacking, spitting the drink out.
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