DiabloFans

From the writings of Abd-al Hazir -

It must be a strange feeling to be fearless of death.

To be completely detached from all life would be, in my eyes, a fate worse than death. However, one must first be given the chance to taste the good in life before one can miss it. The thought of this saddens me but the reality is that there are those in our world that have never had such a chance...

Over the many years of my life I have travelled far and I now count myself among the most learned scholars in Sanctuary. However, nothing I had seen nor read prepared me for my first encounter with a Dhampir. The encounter I speak of is amongst the most confronting moments of my life, though, I doubt the tale will end the way you expect it to...the way I expected it to. My tale begins with me running for my life...

Time seemed to stop as the dark figure hunting me paused in the shadows.

“Life and Death?” he said - repeating part of my question back to me. The shrill tone of his voice made me shiver in fear. I could tell from the way his expression changed – first deadly, now thoughtful – that my reaction to his vicious approach surprised him. As he glared at me his glistening fangs slid slowly back into the darkness.

“We know both well here my friend.” His bright eyes narrowed and he locked me into his bottomless gaze.

“Why are you here Hazir? This is not a place for scholars to be wandering.” The mention of my name struck me like lightning and I was unable to answer. How could he know my name? Was this someone I had met before? It took all of my resolve not to turn and run in fear from the man hidden in the shadows.

“Yes, I know you old man.” He smiled at my apparent surprise revealing his slightly sharpened teeth and began to prowl toward me again – his body language was no longer enraged but curious.

“You are known among the Dhampir for your extensive writings. We have used your discoveries to aid us in our quest to destroy the ones whom birthed us.” His explanation did nothing to ease the tension I felt in his presence - but the icy fear swimming in my stomach began to turn to burning curiosity.

As the man came forward from the shadows I could finally make out his face. He was dark-brown skinned with straight blood-red hair that ran to down to his shoulders. He made no attempt to move his thin hair from his face. Through the strands of his hair his eyes glowed a lucent blue in the fire-light. Such a contrast of colours I had never seen before! Could this be? I had hoped that I would one day catch a glimpse of the infamous Dhampir but now that I had one lurking before me I could not believe it. The tales I had heard of them were ripe with bloodshed and fear so I had come to expect more of a monster rather than the man standing in front of me. I had indeed studied the vampiric demons that are thought to have created the Dhampir and so I was not so ill-informed - like the majority of people are – as to their true nature.





--- A bit of background spin-off



It is written in ancient scrolls - well past their used-by-date - that the Vampires that served Diablo ‘Lord of Terror’, created the Dhampir in their image with the hope that their children would inherit their strength in a human body. This would allow them to walk through the daylight and amongst a human population without ever being noticed. After spending many years perfecting their blood-binding rituals they were finally successful in creating the first ever Dhampir. He was named Vemenos by his father’s and, if the said scrolls are accurate, he would now be the strongest of his kind. You see, as time passes the Dhampir grow in strength – this is unlike any other demon-kind I have studied. All of my studies have led me to believe that a demon is unable to change it’s form in any way without the use of dark magics. Basically - they do not have a natural growth. If it is indeed true that the Dhampir are subject to change over time, then I speculate that this anomaly is one of the side effects of having human blood flow through their veins.

I feel the deepest sorrow for the mothers chosen as Dhampir hosts for my studies of the blood-binding ritual has lead me to believe that their very souls are sacrificed to Diablo – the Lord of Terror - in order to give their children life. In fact, it has been said that as the Dhampir take their first breath their Mothers breathe their last. I speculate that this fact plays a major role in the Dhampirs relentless motivation to hunt their makers.

From birth the Dhampir grow rapidly and after their first year are big enough to pass as a fully grown human. I have not discovered the precise reasons the Dhampir have chosen to fight for light over darkness but maybe the red-haired blue-eyed predator in front of me would be willing to share his story? After all, I have helped them in their relentless hunt to kill their fathers, albeit unintentionally.

"The demons did not anticipate the strength of the human soul that carried on to us through our mothers. Once we were old enough to learn the fate of our mothers and the plan the demons had in store for us we rebelled against our forced fate and began to hunt our creators as revenge."

So began the Dhampir’s war fueled by revenge.
----

I am planning on doing a short story from this idea so check out the fan fiction section later on if you want to see what happens in the story.

Cheers
Shibblicious

From the writings of Abd al-Hazir:

I stayed among the ancient ruins of a temple that the Monks of Zakarum were rumored to have habited long ago, though, I did not have the rare pleasure of seeing one during my stay. These secretive men and women are said to have mastered sanctuaries holy energies, a feat no priest of Old Zakarum could claim. The few scrolls I have read regarding their beliefs delve into three Arts which form the base of their society.

"The Art of Peace" - "The Art of Body" - "The Art of Mind"

Once one is admitted to their Order, he/she must choose which art they will dedicate their life to mastering.

Their Order was founded by Thathus when the Zakarum Religion was birthed by the Archangel Yaerius and the prophet Akarat. It grew in secret with Thathus, their Leader and Teacher whom also carried the blessing of Yaerius. The Zakarum Empire was oblivious to the Orders existence with Thathus only choosing a select few gifted priests of Zakarum to train and study in his ranks. And so it was until the foul hatred and corruption of Mephisto took the Empire and brought it to its unimaginable end. After the decimation of Kurast and death of their families the Order abandoned their Zakarum namesake and are now known as "the Monks of Sanctuary".

From what I have read in my studies, they strive to master their chosen arts in an effort to take control of the very consciousness that binds us sentient beings to the world. As learned as I was at the time, I did not believe the idea of one of such humble human origins being able to dictate their reality by manipulating the very nature of things around them. To me, the world is what it is and we are but part of it. This, as I discovered, was a grave misunderstanding on my part for the Monks of Sanctuary study an ancient form of meditation and holy magic that is beyond my ability to comprehend. They are the bane of demon kind and all who would oppose them - I think even Yaerius himself may regret his blessing!

In an effort to further my understanding of their studies I set out to find and hopefully talk with one of their mystic order. The days before my visit to the monks broken temple, I had been traveling through the Skovos Isles at the bottom of the twin seas when I overheard some local fisherman talking of strange sightings. When I approached and asked the man to describe what he had seen in more detail his eyes hardened and he set a deep gaze into the water as he recited his story.

His tale began with a dark red light that formed on a nearby island. It caressed the surrounding rocks and mangroves in an unbelievably rich shade of sky blue before slowly fading into its center of throbbing red. He was curious to learn more about the phenomenon he had witnessed so he moved closer as the light subsided. When he reached the island and climbed the small rocky slope that covered the islands sides he could hardly believe his eyes.

Their stood a young beautiful woman that protruded an aura of immense power. She was seemingly unaware of his presence and the dramatic light show going on around her. The Monk balanced effortlessly on her right foot with her left vertically above her. Her torso was parallel with the ground and her sculptured legs were as straight as arrows. Her arms formed a pyramid either side of her combining together at the centre of her chest where her clenched fists produced the resounding red light. The woman appeared to be in a trance completely unaware of all surroundings as she began to move her arms and lower her leg into a more natural position.
"A display of Unimaginable Balance and Strength!" the fisherman reflected. He shook his head, finally braking eye contact with the ever drifting sea water and now stared into the sky.
"I was cautious not to move or make a sound to distract her but the rock I was standing on broke loose and I stumbled helplessly. I saw her open her sapphire eyes and before I could say a word she smote me in the chest with a force of bright light that launched me 20 feet through the air and into the sea." The man paused and rubbed his chest for a long minute. The shock of his experience was still evident in his body language.
The man continued, "At first I wondered what I had done to deserve such a brutal hit from a Monk of Old Zakarum but after reflecting on the matter I realized that she was right to do so. I was a fool lurking in the dark and spying on her like an assassin about to strike. It is only natural for someone of her kind to be ever weary of attack - these are dark times we live in and many would seek to carve out the scalp of a monk whom still dares to openly display their deep connection with the Light. I now count myself lucky she saw fit to leave me in one piece!"

After he had finished his tale of the encounter I continued my quest more eager than ever to find one of her kin and study them further. But alas, there secretive nature and vow of silence proved too much for me to gain their trust. It is, however, heartening to know that these Monks - these Masters of Holy Light - still practice their three powerful arts for in my heart I know there will come a time when they will unleash their righteous fury unto the devils that plague our beloved Sanctuary. And when they do, I believe that Diablo himself will cower from their might!

I have edited your art. I hope you like it...
See and enjoy it.

Originally by: shibblicious
Edited by : Archantyrael

Chapter 1 - part 1.

The sun broke through my eye lids and blinded me despite them being shut. Its heat had warmed the sand beneath giving me even more discomfort as I felt each grain burn against my flesh. My lips, so parched, I could not even speak. It was the beginning of a day much like many other days I have awoken to the same situation.

I rubbed my eyes to adjust them to the sun. The light slowly adjusted as I was able to look around. The winds have swept enough sand over me to cover nearly half of my body. I slowly lifted my arm from my temporary tomb and watched as the sand fell from the white linen covering my arm. I sat up and looked around for my turban. I saw the red feather from the top sticking out of the sand, alerting me of its presence. I lifted it from the ground and shook it attempting to remove any extra sand as well as creatures who may have made it their home. I placed the hat on my head as I stood up.

The sun continued to beat down on me but it was nothing that I was not use to. I have always lived in the deserts of Kehjistan. I wondered through the desolate cities that have some how made a home in these barren lands. I look for work, any work that pays. I have often found work using my skills to aid others as they foolishly wander the desert looking for treasures. I stand faithfully by their side, fighting off anyone or anything that would be be in our way. A mercenary is the life I have chosen to live.

I began walking through the desert headed for Lut Gholein. I had to catch the boat across the divide, although the water seemed like an oasis now. The boat left only once a week and I did not wish to stay on this side any longer.



It was two days ago that a man had paid me to escort him to Caldeum. He did not tell me why he was headed there and I did not ask. It was not my job to know why, just to protect. We walked for days across the barren land. The sands brushed against us, at times, so harshly we had to stop to find cover. We had finally made our way to Caldeum and that is when it happened. The truth of his journey was shown to me.

The man offered me ten gold to kill a man, no questions asked. Foolishly, I took accepted the job. I had never killed anyone before without just cause but I was desperate for the money. I ventured into the city looking for this man. I found him in a shop, he was purchasing metal, for what I did not know. I waited for the man in a back alley, waiting for him to leave the store so I could complete my job. As he walked past me, I thrusted my spear straight into the man's chest. My spear pierced his heart and exited out the other side of his chest. I withdrew my spear just as quickly as I had used it. The man feel to the ground as I slipped further back into the alley. Panic hit the streets. That is when I heard the voice of a young woman. She cried for her husband as she held the man's dead body in her arms.

As I returned to the man for my money, the town's people had captured him. He was hanging from a roof top as the citizens yelled about the evil he has brought upon their city. Since his arrival, his presence in the city has brought along the death of one of their Nobles. Men who spent their lives protecting the citizens of this town. Citizens who could not defend themselves from tyranny that has poured into the leaders of this city.

The men threw the stranger from the roof with a rope around his neck. However, where his body should have gone limp, his body only disappeared in a puff of smoke. I shamefully left the city undetected. I had never given much thought about the men I have escorted through this desert and their reasoning for wanting to cross this rugged terrain however, I could not feel like I was used this time. A darker source had used me to slain an innocent man. Not just an innocent man, but one who protected the weak.



I walked towards the boat leaving for Lut Gholein. This boat was a chance to star over. A chance to use my skills for a more worthy cause. A chance to erase the poor deed I had committed.