[mockery]

We are proud to announce, as one of our three BlizzCon 2009 ticket giveaways, a Class Lore Contest!

Have you ever wanted to write your own background story for a new character class? Well here's your chance! All you need to do is submit a story between 600 and 1000 words in length created by yourself along with the name of your class. Think of the character histories on the Diablo 3 site. Provide as many details as possible. You must post your entries in this thread.

The story must be created by you and specifically for the contest. Do NOT use other people's material from anywhere, we will find out and you will be permanently banned for attempting to cheat on a contest. Judging will not only be based on grammar, but originality and interest as well so please don't be discouraged if you aren't the greatest writer in the world.

The contest will be judged by the Admins and Moderators of Diablofans.com.

Judging will be conducted on the following:

• Franchise Coherence (How well does your creation fit into the existing lore / style of Diablo?)
  
• Technical Skill (grammar/interesting language, etc)
  
• Originality (How new is your idea? Have we heard something like it before?)

Rules

• You must post your entries in this thread.
  
• Enter as many times as you like, but put each entry in a separate post.
  
• If you have any questions, please post them in the Official Questions Thread. Do not post questions in this contest entries thread.

Prizes:

• The winner will of course receive one general admission pass to BlizzCon 2009! (Winner is responsible for own travel & hotel arrangements to BlizzCon). For more information about BlizzCon, please visit www.blizzcon.com
  
• One runner-up will receive a Diablofans.com t-shirt.

Deadline:

• All entries must be posted no later than 11:59 PM PST on Monday, June 8th, 2009.

Big thanks again to Blizzard for providing us with these BlizzCon tickets so we can give you guys an additional opportunity to attend BlizzCon and create something fun for everybody to check out in the process!

We're really looking forward to seeing some truly great entries here, so get to work and from all of us here at Diablofans.com, good luck to all of you!

This post has been edited by mockery: 25 May 2009 - 09:49 PM

[Atrumentis]

EXAMPLE ENTRY

This is an example of a background story for my own character class. It is 672 words long, but I'm sure you guys could do better than I can. Enjoy yourselves! I know I did.

Morsarbor Class

When the Three roamed Sanctuary, many clans and orders came to seek out and banish the evils from this world. Many heroes and heroines congregated in towns where it was safe to rest before venturing out to fight evil. Upon doing so, the Priests of Rathma and the Druids came into contact with each other where under normal circumstances they wouldn?t have. Through idle conversations in town and seeing each other?s skills in combat, some Druids and Rathmians came to realise that their two different clans and way of life is not so different after all. It was discovered that in fact both Rathmians and Druids serve the Great Cycle of Being, but on opposite sides. The Necromancers have long served the Great Cycle of Being under the teachings of Rathma and Trag?Oul, but they have always focused on the Afterlife side of it. Through extra research, the Druids found that the theory of this ?Great Cycle of Being? actually fits in with their own teachings, where they support the growth of life.

Although sharing knowledge for both clans is strictly forbidden, some were still very interested in each other, feeling that the two clans are almost cousins (where as the relationship between the Druids and the Barbarians are more like brothers). Some Druids and Rathmians actually left their clans to share knowledge with each other, feeling that the best way to protect the Great Cycle is to have full knowledge of it, not just half-knowledge as they previously had. Such an act is forbidden, however, and so any who chose to leave were forbidden to ever return. This new combination of Druids and Rathmians came to call themselves the Morsarbor, meaning growth and decay.

The Morsarbor are a mysterious order. Rarely are they seen as they prefer to live amongst the dense misty forests south of the Swamp Land. Here they are almost one with the land as it is, as per their Druidic ancestry, and also one with the land as it once was, as per their Rathmian ancestry. Note however that while the Morsarbor are rarely seen, they are not unsociable people. All one has to do is respect them and their forest, and they will show respect in return. Assuming, that is, that you can get over the fear that surrounds them.

Without constant training and guidance from their original orders, the Morsarbor have lost some of their Rathmian and Druid abilities. Though at the same time, they have gained many abilities. Their most prominent one is the ability to summon dead pieces of flora in the form of eerie tree-like minions. These minions appear to have a mind of their own, yet also know exactly what their master is thinking. It is unclear whether these minions have been purely animated with magic in the same way skeletons are, or whether they have some animal spirit or Spirit of Nature bound to them. Travellers, while not having actually seen a Morsarbor, have recalled seeing many death omens within the forests south of the Swamp Land, including black dogs, black birds, strange comets, misaligning of stars, and a general constant feeling of approaching death.

It seems apparent that while the Druids focus on life and growth, and the Priests of Rathma focus on death that has occured; the Morsarbor focus on death that is yet to come. Supporting the Balance in three separate ways is regarded by the Morsarbor as better protecting it. However, what the Rathmians and Druids think of this new triad is another matter. The Balance, they claim, is balanced when there are two equally opposing sides. A third side has the potential to cause unbalance unless it is equal to the others, and at the Morsarbor's current state they are not equal to the Rathmians or Druids. Seeing as the Morsarbor aren't about to give up their position, something is going to have to be done about the situation. Whether that means helping the Morsarbor, or engaging in war against them, we shall soon see.

This post has been edited by Atrumentis: 26 May 2009 - 07:08 AM

[Aveoon32]

Wow a truely great example of lore for the contest. Did you just pull this out of your ass? Because wow i really would like to hear more about these morsabors. Kudos 2 u

[Atrumentis]

Heh, thanks. I thought of the Morsarbor a while ago around the time that we were discussing Druids and the Spirits of Nature and what they have to do with the Balance :P

[Guasti]

Enter as many times as you like, but put each entry in a separate post.? really ok :)

First entry : XD

The Warlocks
the Former "Hand of Zakarum" Still had an great Lore ahead of them because of the fierce new warrior, He was found in West march, Helping the innocent and killing evil up rising monsters, he was more righteous then everyone else you could just see it, it was glowing of his aura,He joined the Former "Hand of Zakarum , and he started his own crusade against the Prime evils following the dark wanderer everywhere he could. One day he met the dark wanderer, Gyron drew his Hammer and smashed into the dark wanderer, but he was not strong enough and was pushed back by an evil force. For this deed of Righteousness he was crowned by the High priests of Akarat, to the title "The ArchPaladin". Thats how Gyron became leader, as righteous as he was, and with his golden hart he marched up to The Three Prime Evils himself. As he came near Mephisto's lair, he had the strange feeling, of being to late. he walked further and further but then he saw it, the body, the body of mephisto. He Shouted Furious because Mephisto was not killed in his good hands, and what could have happened to the soulstone, as he was in great panic he did not thought his moves and Ran through the Portal to the "Pandemonium Fortress" in hope to find the band of warriors who knocked down the rise of mephisto. His band refused this and left him. so he went onwards alone, it didn't take long as he was near of the group of warriors. They were walking up to the hell forge, as he heared of it would have been the place to destroy the Soulstone. He saw that their leader took up the Hell Forge hammer. Gyron came near to see what would happen, but there he made a great mistake, as the leader smashed the Soulstone in a million pieces he was hitted by 3 of them, the first two shot into his shoulder, and the last shot right into his heart. He faded away in agony and pain. He lied there for a long, long time.

A few months later, a week before the cataclysm The old Gyron returned but he was not the same. As he called himself Gyron vailen, his body was blacker than shadows itself and out of his left shoulder there grew two demonic tentacles. At first the Group of paladins had no fear of him as he was somewhat similar of the Old Gyron himself, but there were some who did not trust the man. Soon the Cataclysm started and Gyron saw his chance, from out of no were he had searched the pieces of the Soulstone, and threw them at every Paladin he saw, telling them it was the better future coming ahead upon them, and that they all betrayed him, and left him alone in agony. this is how he created the elite force "The Souls of Vailen" They were al as black as Gyron himself and after the Cataclysm had ended, The Terror began, the Group of Former Paladins were Scourging the lands in search of greater power,killing everything and everyone but especially trying to find the warrior bastards who had done this to them. it didn't take long before they were satisfied with killing as they found out they were much stronger now. In search of greater items they went on Gyrons instinctive mind to the church of tristram and they went downwards, looting all mystic armors and weapons. Gyron and his band grew stronger and stronger, With his "crown of torns", founded in the Church they looked for other powers to make there bodies stronger than the prime evil's itself. In Caldeum, it was were they founded it, In a small shop they encountered a mage, who promised them everything and every power itself, That's were Gyron made place for the Mighty mage "Blaile", Blaile trained them in the powers of The demons, how they could become a demon, and how they could control every living thing, it was then when Gyron and his band were so strong that they tried to kill Blaile, But Blaile showed himself to them as the real person he was, Belial. Gyron and his band were so afraid the became slaves of Belial and they started wars all over the world trying to find the other Demon Brothers. It didn't take long before they came back , back to were it al started. "West March". This was where the Uprising of they old "Hand of Zakarum" started to take over again. The Souls of vailen were obivious furious about the Hand of zakarum still exsisting as They fond them selfs the more stronger party. the war started as this was Holy ground for "The Souls of Vailen" and for the "Hand of Zakarum".

Who won is Still unkown or even if the war is over, is still unkown. But those two groups are Fierce enemies.

This is how The Warlocks stood up, Bounded with the Might of Paladins changed dark and the demonic powers, they had Might and magic. For Some a group of fierce warriors and for others Strong mages, they used there hammers and demonic forms and powers to slaughter up any uprise as they hate all.

also, im more interested in the T-shirt than the ticket :)

(its still somewhat rough but i find it a reasonable start i'm not such a good writer, just started writing)
*be critical, at judging :)*

This post has been edited by Guasti: 07 June 2009 - 12:55 PM

[Kilki]

After lurking for a long time this is my first post. its not really an entery since its not long enough but its meant to be the little text you see when you press the class and read about it. either way i just wanted you guys to see it.

Introduction to the class

The Witch Hunter is a hybrid its both Ranged/Dps and Support, its main weapon is a Shortbow which it enchanted with the holy magic of zakarum. The Witch hunters are the Assasins of the old Zakarum empire. As the empire crumbled and felt to the wicked the Witch hunters left them in their dying hour, and are now scattered across sanctuary. They are sworn to undo all the foulness the Zakarum clan has Tainted upon this land, in the belive that one day they would have undone enough sins to redeem the Zakarum clan and let them once again rest in peace.

Story of the particular Witch hunter leading to Diablo 3


After roaming the lands of Sanctuary for nearly 30 years Fighting hells demons and rebuilding civilizations. I am drawn to the city of Tristam in the sense of a evil rising. Destroying this evil would once and for all Redeem the clan of Zakarum, and finaly let us Witch hunters rest in peace.

its like an outcast of what i had in mind.

Im not the best writer but tell me if you like it ? :cool:

[Bowlmonkey]

AWESOME! I live in Oceanside and the convention is only 1 hour away from my town, looks like a week of writing and tons of red bulls to be purchased!

[Guasti]

Kilki said:

Story of the particular Witch hunter leading to Diablo 3


After roaming the lands of Sanctuary for nearly 30 years Fighting hells demons and rebuilding civilizations. I am drawn to the city of Tristam in the sense of a evil rising. Destroying this evil would once and for all Redeem the clan of Zakarum, and finaly let us Witch hunters rest in peace.

its like an outcast of what i had in mind.

Im not the best writer but tell me if you like it ? :cool:

Dude souds obviously cool but More info, how did everything happen and what and why and, more more more :) but :thumbsup: good start!

[Ent1ty]

The Concutio

The Concutio roamed with Azmodan during the earliest time of Sanctuary wreaking havoc by adjusting peoples emotions to terror and fear. These men and women could create illusions that would have people fall at first sight. These could be illusions of horror, wealth beauty or pain. They could make you beg for death at first site. The Concutio were one significantly special group of people. They had enough power to get away from Azmodan but never knew it. They just abided by hi rules and did his bidding. Eventually as the inhabitants of this tribe grew old and had children they became stronger and learned how to use the forces of nature to hurt as well as buff up their abilities. They were able to create tsunamis that came out of the ground or a lightning strike in a clear sky. They also learned how to concentrate their energy into one skill thereby buffing it up a bit. Azmodan had forced them to go about the world of sanctuary killing innocent people. At one point they slaughtered a whole rogue encampment. Some were tormented about the way they were murdering people but no one stood up to Azmodan. As Part of the ongoing war against belial they continually fought against other demons and other tribes. Always traveling they have left a mark in every town and have only been in one place for 13 years Xiansai. Once Azmodan had tried to undermine the three and failed The Concutio were under Baals' rule. For many generations the Concutio were gladly helping Baal, until ?ed decided to take charge. ?ed was a man of peace and wanted prosperity among his tribe without the killing of these innocent people. He was angered at Baal and participated in no killings. He wanted to finally defeat Baal but knew he would fail even with his whole tribe. So instead he just wanted to run far away so he could be free with his people. He obtained Fifty thousand Concutio's whom would fight for their own rule. This was all happening as Baal was being challenged by some Heros who came a long way to defeat the worldstone. The other 300 Thousand Concutio's were unaware of when this attack would happen but knew something was happening. Baal told all of them to gather and hide deep within the worldstone keep. There as all the Concutio's gathered The fifty thousand attacked the others. The battle raged on for hours and hours on end. The bloodshed was endless. Mangled corpses were lying everywhere within the first ten minutes. The 50 thousand were quickly depleting all the others although outnumbered 4 times to 1. As the fought the 50 thousand got weaker and weaker and eventually started losing the fight but quickly they were all led on by ?ed whom made them see gold behind the other Concutio's, this served as a reward and some encouragement. From there the 50 thousand stopped the others in their tracks even more quickly defeating them. Soon enough the fifty thousand defeated the 300 thousand but not without loss. Roughly 35 thousand were killed although the exact number is not known. ?ed had defeated the 300 thousand and proudly took his place as king of the Concutio's. From there they filed out quickly trying to escape Baal quickly although they had no idea that Baal was too pre-occupied to worry about them. Once out they made their way across lands and seas and ended up on Skartara a small island part of the Skovos islands. When they had heard the worldstone was destroyed they had come to congratulate the heros. and offered help in anyway possible if this ever happened again. On Skartara they resided without interruption. There they have lived for twenty years in harmony with the world but now that hell has returned they are willing to help the tribes defeat this new evil.

Concutio means terrorizer in latin and ?ed means fire in irish or gaelic I'm not sure which. 654 words exactly I made this off the top of my head criticize me as harsh as you can be, I suck at writing and this is good practice for school. Aww the name of my character does not come up the question mark is actually and A with an accent on top.

[Luckmann]

Extended Class Lore:
of the The Inquisitor.

In the Second Coming of The Word, there was sown the seeds of rebellion within the Zakarumite Church, long before the corrupting influence of Mephisto. To understand the Inquisition and the Ordine Nuovo one have to understand history.

In the early-to-mid-12th century, the original Church of Zakarum had gained prominence in the east and it was deemed essential that, to fullfill the prophecies of Akarat, the Church had to take a missionary stance. This was the First Coming of the Word. As priestly Wordbearers were appointed, it became increasingly obvious that they were in no way accustomed to the ardors of travel nor the inherent violence of the world. This prompted the creation of the Protectors of the Word. These defender-warriors became the first-generation Paladins. As the West was converted, these men faded from public view, forming their own monastic orders.

Decades later, in the late 12th century, the reigning Que-Hegan initiated the Second Coming of the Word. This time, however, all who refused conversion was deemed unpure and corrupted. Mass executions, burnings and torturous confessions became commonplace almost overnight as the Inquisitorial Orders were formed in all major cities and monestaries. A new generation of paladins was raised, called the Hand of Zakarum, scouring the world of demonic taint in a zealous frenzy, actively seeking out demon worshippers, infidels, witches and the undead.

In the midst of this bloodbath, the First Great Schism ocurred. Led by the original Protectors of the Word and their descendants, the paladins rebelled against the reigning inquisitors, sparking an internal schism. In a delicate position, the High Council of Zakarum was forced to acknowledge both sides as differing sects, calling a truce but in no way solving the underlying conflict. In time, due to the presence of the monastic Protectors of the Word in the west, this ended up shattering the Zakarumite Church into an eastern and a western wing despite both parts being ruled by the High Council and the Que-Hegan.

As the conflicts of the church calmed down, the seeping corruption of Mephisto started to take hold. Through infiltration and holy decrees carried out by the recently appointed Que-Hegan, Sankekur, the seeds of a true rebellion started to grow as the western wing felt increasingly alienated by the direction the church was taking, even as the Second Coming of the Word started to die down.

In the months preceding 1263, the schism finally explodes into open conflict as violence breaks out in several western churches and monestaries. In the years 1264-1266, the world is turned upside-down forever. After the complete and true corruption of an eastern Archbishop, Lazarus, is uncovered as well as the supposed rise of a Prime Evil, a lone Paladin of Westmarch participates in a legendary hunt for the Dark Wanderer. This results in the uncovering of the true circumstances behind the death of Que-Hegan Kalim and the subsequent Sacking of Kurast - the death of the entire Zakarumite leadership.

Now, twenty years later, what remains of the church is still reeling from this tremendous blow. Even after twenty years, there has been no new, universally accepted, Que-Hegan or High Council of Zakarum. Instead, the church is split into a multitude of orders, sects and monestaries. Most Zakarumites still insist that the church is still united; that all revere the same Holy Light and follow the same scriptures. In practice, however, this is seldom true and sometimes even the smallest difference in interpretation results in fist-fights between priests of the faith. Actual conflict, however, is almost entirely unheard of.

One of the most prominent sects is that of the Ordine Nuovo - "New Order". As corruption grew so many years ago, so did the light of Zakarum dwindle. Claiming direct descendance from the original Protectors of the Word, the Ordine Nuovo is an amalgamation of several teachings, the most prominent being the difference of opinion regarding the First and Second Coming of the Word. Calling for a Third Coming of the Word to re-unite the church is theory and practice, the influence of the once great Paladins have slowly been replaced by warrior-priests. Unforgiving Inquisitors acting as clergy within the church, travelling the countryside as Friars, or even leading bands of Paladins and Holy Knights depending on their stature.

These inquisitors were tasked with rooting out evil in the darkest recesses of Sanctuary, to spread the light of Zakarum, to convert unbelievers; and if need be, purge heretics. Many have forgotten the last great conflict. But the Zakarumites of Westmarch have not forgotten the insidious betrayal of a corrupted, possessed King. They have not forgotten the fall of an Archbishop. They have not forgotten how the entire nation of Khanduras fell not to armies, nor steel, sword or blood - but the corruption in it's purest form.

Abhorrent to torture and needless bloodshed, these Inquisitors are a far cry from the original initiators of the Second Coming of the Word. They are, however, far more disillusioned and cynical than their claimed progenitors, the first-generation Paladins. Any man, woman or entity in power are subject to being corrupted by hunger for power, or just being subject of losing empathy of "lesser" men, women or entities; Corruption comes not only from evil, but also from within. Thus they consider Kalim as a martyr of the faith, able to resist the temptations of corruption - Mephisto was only able to corrupt the High Council and Sankekur due to the man-made corruption represented by the blood shed during the Second Coming of the Word.

From the highest lord to the lowest peasant, all must see the light of Zakarum and be prepared for the cleansing fires; Westmarch or the very world itself cannot and must not fall, be it from without... or within.

Edit: I did not count the number of words, so if it is within or outside the number of requested words, I apologize. Furthermore, I borrow heavily from the official timeline and backstory of both the Paladin and that of Zakarum as a whole. I fully understand if this means that I'm not eligable to enter. I wrote this because I was in the mood, not just to enter the contest. :)

This post has been edited by Luckmann: 27 May 2009 - 09:26 AM

[Voider]

The Dreamslayer

From the writings of Abd al-Hazir

Entry no. 0027

[FONT="]U[/FONT]p until recently, I had never heard mention of the peculiar individual that would later call himself a Dreamslayer. And for cause: Up until recently, such a display of both power and magic simply did not exist.

I was traveling close to the Dreadlands borders, carefully avoiding the accursed region as if it was plagued - and it probably was - when I came across a large settlement of wooden constructions, strange sight in this desolated area. A small battalion of knights was marching forward to the north to encounter a horde of demons moving toward them with raging fury. From afar, I saw at their lead what I first thought to be a Wizard or perhaps a Necromancer. As I was moving closer, driven forward more by curiosity than interest in yet another conflict with demons, I quickly realized it was neither: The individual marched in the front with unwavering confidence, his arms extended on each sides of his body as if he was taunting the enemy into charging his unprotected self. In his eyes was burning a flame I had only seen in the most potent of Archmage, and when the battle started, I could not believe the scene that unraveled before my eyes.

The knights marched away from the demons, as if they only came to be spectators of the battle. I saw the poor man, this Dreamslayer, march alone - to his death I thought - towards his enemies. What ensued when the clash started was not a battle: It was a massacre. As soon as the man waved his arms, the demons started fleeing in all directions with their hands on their heads, as if assaulted by an invisible locust swarm. Within seconds, in which I am still unsure of what exactly happened, the battlefield was in ruins: Flesh turned to dust, armor, to sand. The few surviving demons ran away into the northern wastelands, never to come back.

I marched toward this man, hungry for explanation on this uncanny display of power. He immediately saw in me that I also was a wielder of arcane art, and invited me to spend the night in their settlement where I could hear his story.

The man explained that he studied in the art of wizardry in his younger days. A very gifted student, he was also angry and impatient, as it is often the case with youth. He went into battle as soon as he could, but very quickly he noticed the ''limitations'' of his arcane art, something that most wizard never realize in all their years of seclusion studding magic: Demons had evolved, becoming stronger and building immunities to certain school of spells or certain type weapons. 'If we are to win the war against the Burning Hell, he said, it will certainly not be with fire.' One cannot argue with such logic.

After some time studying necromancy, in a vain attempt to find a better source of power, he spent a few years alone in the wild to search for a better way to battle the legions of the burning hell. And one day, as we was destroying with great ease a camp of Fallen ones, it struck him. He had finally found the true weakness of every undead and demons in the world: Their mind.

'Every demon and undead is inherently weak of mind and spirit, he explained to me, this is how they are spawned by their masters in order to be easier to control. The fall of the Prime Evil left something empty, a void if you will in the commending hierarchy, which is why most demons have been rampaging so chaotically in the last few years. By learning to manipulate that weakness and my surroundings with my knowledge of shadow and arcane, I created my own school of magic, specifically tailored to control and destroy, and not only to casts pretty light shows as wizards do.'

We exchanged stories until the late hours of the night where I learned a great deal on how he tricks the minds of his enemies, slowing their flow of thoughts to make himself appear to move faster or how he mixes arcane and shadow to bolster his fighting power.

I woke up late the next day, after the best night of sleep I had in a very long time: A night filled with dreams of beauty and wonders, vivifying enough to make you feel 10 years younger. I searched for him before my departure, as I wanted to thank him for his hospitality, but the knights told me that he had left early in the morning for an unknown errand in the east.

After a last look around, I took my leave toward my next destination, with renewed hope in the success of our war against the new up rise of evil.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You can also check some of the class's skill in the other forum contest at http://www.diablofan...ed=1#post441254.

This post has been edited by Voider: 27 May 2009 - 06:26 PM

[AuraofMana]

RAVENCLOAKED

This is the lore to my Ravencloaked class. The skill trees are listed on the other thread. I do not have art for the class at the moment. If anyone is interested in doing the art to enter the art contest themselves (or if this is somehow not allowed), let me know.

After the initial events of Tristram, it is say that evil had not been defeated under the earth, but carried out and unleashed in its full power. Ever since the mysterious travelers have began to travel east, the Rogues were already dealing with their own troubles - monsters in the wild and the signs of corruption within their own ranks and fallen.

With the help of the seven heroes, such corruption was extinguished before it became a serious problem. Fallen rogues had been put to the blade, and even their leader, Bloodraven, with her vast power of necromancy, had not escaped her fate either. It wasn't until the victory at Arreat Summit, if that can be called a victory, did the story finally came into light.

While the seven heroes sacrificed everything they had, even their souls, to have a chance at the three, other heroes gained victories elsewhere, working behind the scenes and remained unknown throughout the war. Such acts of espionage has proven to be quite effective, but only if their existence remained a myth, even to the seven, for such secrets meant the life and death of an entire network, and it should not be told lightly. They were the Ravencloaked, working under their mistress Bloodraven, behind the enemy lines to sabotage the intricate network of the hell caste and to carry vital information that were needed on the other side.

To fully disguise themselves as true minions, the Ravencloaked had to learn to accept the infernal power given to them, while keeping their minds purified. Any sign of actual corruption were put down, and such initiates who could not resist temptation were not uncommon. To don their false mantle, and to make their jobs easier, the Ravencloaked were master of disguise and subtlety. Their primary roles in the battle was to traverse from and back to enemy lines unseen and unheard, carrying vital information to wherever it may be needed. Such shadowy acts did not always go unnoticed, and these wise eyes who peek too far must be blinded silently without drawing much attention.

With the aid of their hellish abilities, the Ravencloaked were faster, stronger, and sharper than any mortal. Their bodies could bend in abnormal ways as if they lacked bones, and their minds keen and more focused than even the most trained mage. For they had to go through both torture and corruption, and display no feeling when they had to put a knife on any humans on the other side, be they past sisters or innocent children, for a true minion of the three would not show remorse, and their guise must be perfect.
From their past heritage, the Ravencloaked are masters of the bow, able to put an arrow from miles away or rain literal hell down from close. Some were also blade masters in their own ways. Even though they couldn?t best warriors in fair combat, subtlety and other tactics aided their steels. Some have also mastered hellish powers, letting fire and destruction to be their signs. Combinations of their skills make the Ravencloaked a versatile enemy, and a slippery one, for the experienced Ravencloaked leaves no evidence that they were ever there.
The origin of their name is argued. Some say the ravens are their mark, for ravens as dark as demon hearts gather at the corpses they leave after, and there is no where a raven cannot go. Some say it was named after their leader who fell at the hands of the seven. She was a paragon of Ravencloaked, showing no signs of who they were even after death.

Now, with the signs of evil stirring in the wind again, the Ravencloaked must aid the world again. It is true that their existence has been whispered, but a true Ravencloaked can hide in light as well as shadows.

This post has been edited by AuraofMana: 27 May 2009 - 02:39 PM

[Deadlyhazard]

Revenant (The Aranochian Story)

Many years ago, before the dark wanderer traveled Sanctuary's holy grounds, there was a supposed immortal race that was rumored to exist. It was not until the year of 964 that this legendary and ancient race was disturbed. This is the year in whence Azmodan and Belial exiled Diablo, Mephisto, and Baal to Sanctuary, from the burning pits of Hell itself. The Golden Years were now over, and peace ceased to exist. The three prime evils separated, and Diablo's minions scattered around the holy land of Sanctuary. It was not until Duriel's minions took over Aranoch, deep within its bounds, that this ancient race of secretive Aranochians was disturbed. Duriels minions invaded this new found fortress hidden amongst the large dunes of Aranoch. A legendary battle engraved a scar of evil during this time.

The battle sieged on for days. There could be no hope for this proud race; for Hell's armies were bountiful and never-ending, unlike the Aranochians. Much death and anguish ensued, with Hell's armies being relentless and savage to the undeserving peoples of this sacred city. Successfully having ramparted the city, Duriel himself confronted it's leaders and guardians. He decided that death itself was much too peaceful for them. He used powerful and ancient magic to transform the Aranochians that were left into living dead. Duriel then evacuated the premise, along with his armies, and sunk the entire fortress beneath the smoldering sands of the desert. The race had been trapped for centuries, being mortal yet dead, until light shun once more through the crevices of sand. It was during the year of 1264, in which our heroes defeated the demoness Andariel, that a group of explorers uncovered this ancient and new-found (to exterior humans) race. The explorers helped this ancient civilization carve a way out into the world of Sanctuary once more. The Aranochians gave them a ceremony of blessing in gratitute for their helpful and kind works. After awhile, the explorers left and documented the case.

In this time of their departure, the band of adventurous explorers had been struck down by the hand of Death himself, for venturing in the deserts infested with demons guaranteed this fate almost every time one would trek across it's dusty dunes. The papers and documents faded within a gusty sandstorm in the following months. During the months these events ensued, the Aranochians practiced battle and learned of a new found ability. They could communicate with the deceased, as they themselves were. Special soldiers figured ways to utilize this newfound talent for combat. These soldiers of the Aranochians told the spirits to communicate with another dimension, an ethereal world. Using this, the soldiers became almost infinitely more powerful than they had ever been before; especially centuries beforehand in which Duriel had invaded them.

Once more, the Aranochians prepared to wage war. They had been practicing combat ever since the time they were encased in the shell of doom, entrapped in a world of dust, and now they were ready more so than ever before. They taught their soldiers to wield combative weapons more effectively, and with years of training, more powerful attacks, and resistances to the elements. Secretive to the outside world, they sought vengeance upon Hell's armies that caused them so much distress and affliction. This proud and enfeebled race was ready a year later, in the year of 1265, when Baal was defeated by our group of benevolant heroes. The hatred of the tumultuous centuries inside their dusty and doomed prison, was now searing rage into their hearts. The Aranochians equipped their army, with their elite soldiers being the most prepared. These elite soldiers of this archaic, spiritual, and now undead race, are some of the most powerful heroes Sanctuary has yet seen. The individuals in this force of heroes, are dubbed Revenants.

This post has been edited by Deadlyhazard: 29 May 2009 - 10:44 AM

[ScyberDragon]

Spirit Guide Lore

Through my travels I have seen just about everything this world has to offer. But when I walked into this tavern and saw this man in the corner I was amazed. At first glance he looked to be part of one of the Druid clans from Tul Dura, but upon closer inspection I could see he was different. He wore a helmet made from a leopard’s head, chest plate from the skin of a crocodile and a staff with a snake spiraled around it. The thing I found peculiar though was the faint blue glow that surrounded this mysterious warrior. Intrigued by this man, I decided to approach him and ask him his story and this is what he had told me.

I remember when I was five years old; I had asked my mother why we could not venture past the jungle. She had replied that it was not safe out there and that our jungle was where we belong. She had warned me that there was an evil amongst the world and that our ancestors tried to fight it with little success. That is when some of them retreated to these jungles, hidden to the rest of the world.
I was always an angry child growing up. When I was seventeen I would help in the fight to defend our precious land. With my bow and club I would fight off anyone who ventured into my path. I was the greatest fighter our clan had ever had. Many of our invaders bodies lay on the floor beneath me. Coming home in victory, I would display the scalps of my victims proudly. However this did not please my mother.
My mother was very disciplined in the arts of our ancestors. She had told me that to become a great warrior I would have to use more then just my club and bow. I would have to learn how to summon the spirits of the animals to aide me and use my surroundings as a benefit. She was right. I wanted to be the best fighter there was and my strength alone would not be enough.
Setting my weapons aside, I started training my mind for combat. I started with the skills to manipulate Mother Nature itself. I started off slowly, controlling vines to fight for me. I explored the jungle learning of poisonous plants to add to my arsenal. I eventually was able to control the monstrous trees themselves to do what I asked of them.
After mastering the art to control nature, I had moved on to the hardest and most sought after of our clan’s skill, the ability to summon the spirits of the animals we lived with. I sat in the jungle for three years just meditating. Focusing on the animals around me, I was soon able to conjure these spirits. I could summon the spirits of snakes, birds and even the powerful leopards. I had become so skilled with these new powers that I was even able to change my own spirit into these animals for a short time.
Filling fulfilled in my new skills, I returned home to my mother. Proud of my new strengths, I now had the abilities needed to become the new leader of our clan. As the leader of our clan I thought it necessary to venture out of the jungles to learn of the world around us. I departed from the jungles for the first time in my life. I had made my way to Viz-Jun. I was greatly disturbed by what I had seen. An entire city brought to ruins by monsters and demons. I knew that if they were able to do this, that it would not belong before they found our hidden jungles and destroyed everything I loved.
I returned home informing my clan of what I had seen, the destruction and evil that lay upon this world. I had realized that as their leader their safety was in my hands. With the skills I now had I was strong enough to fight these demons.
I left the forest once again, perhaps never to return. Venturing further and further away until I came upon this town, the town of Tristram.

After saying this, the strange warrior got up and left the tavern. I only hope he was not exaggerating his strengths. For this world needs another warrior of heroic stature.

You may find a list of the Spirit Guides skills here: http://www.diablofan...?t=19255&page=2

This post has been edited by ScyberDragon: 30 May 2009 - 02:42 AM

[ScyberDragon]

Crusader Lore

Day 245, 3 W.D.
It has been three years now since the destruction of the world stone. I have been posted on the border of Ensteig. Foul demons have slowly made there way back into the populated regions of the Sanctuary. It is now my job to protect these borders to prevent any more corruption in this world.

Day 81, 6 W.D
I have been posted in Ensteig for three years now. While here, I have seen things that no human should ever have to see. I have seen monsters with claws for hands, some that wear the skulls of humans as trophies and I have even seen one monster that drinks the blood from the dead bodies. I don't know hoe much longer I can take the sounds of the the demons wails and the cries of the humans dying, I only hope my Faith can help me through this.

Day 322, 6 W.D.
I must go on in order to protect those who cannot protect themselves. With my sword in one hand, my shield in the other and my faith holding me up, these demons have no chance in survival.

Day 127, 8 W.D.
I have been fighting off the demons for 5 years now. My sword has worn down and my shield is torn to pieces. I don’t know how much longer I can hold up. I feel so fatigued I am finding it hard just to stand. I am afraid I am loosing the battle.

Day 135, 8 W.D
I have found renewed vigor in my faith. As I was fighting a swarm of demon it looked as though all hope was lost. My sword was struck out of my hand and my shield lay on the ground next to me. That is when it happened; I felt this power flowing through me. I found the strength to grab my shield up, thrusting it towards the demons, smiting all of them that stood in my way.

Day 293, 10 W.D.
While facing a horrible demon with six arms and the strength of 100 men, I miraculously summoned the angels themselves to fight by my side. They were beautiful as they came down and struck down the enemy. In addition to calling to the angels for help, I have even found that I am able to convert some of the lesser demons to fight along my side, turning them against themselves.

Day 4, 13 W.D
Word of my heroic efforts has reached around the entire Sanctuary. I find new men coming to my side to aid in this battle. They have made me the leader, the one to help them all through this fight. I only hope I can live up to their expectations.

Day 321, 15 W.D.
I have spent much time now with these soldiers. Many have died by my side but a select few have persevered. We have become quite close and I can honestly say that I would lay my own life on the lines to save theirs.

Day 67, 18 W.D.
The battle is never ending. No matter how many of the demons I lay to rest three more seem to take its place. Holding these boarders is an endless fight.

Day 212 ,19 W.D.
With my sword and shield brightly glowing from the power of my faith, I command my troops into battle. Through the years of experience I have complete control over this battlefield. No demon survives our push. No man drops to the ground in death. This has been my greatest victory yet.

Day 18, 20 W.D.
I have sent a letter to my commander detailing my ideas to take back what was once ours, to restore goodness into this world. I explained to him that we have to strike at the heart of this evil. We can not keep fighting these demons off. We must extinguish the source.

Day 198, 20 W.D.
I have gotten the go ahead. My commander has allowed me to take my troops into the center of the Dreadlands to find the source of this evil. I will lead my troops doing everything I can in hope to prevent the destruction of this world.

Day 316, 20 W.D.
This will be my last entry. I have found where these demons are coming from. It has been a hard and daunting task to get here. All of my men have fallen; I am left to smite the evil myself. However, my sword is freshly sharpened and my shield mightier then ever. With my faith fighting along with me by my side, I will not fail. I can not fail.


you can find a list of the crusader's skills here: http://www.diablofan....t=19255&page=2

This post has been edited by ScyberDragon: 30 May 2009 - 02:49 AM

[ScyberDragon]

Samurai Lore

Among my many travels to the island of Xiansai, I commonly visited the sorcerers that occupied it. On my most recent trip there, I overheard some talk about these brutish people, their cousins who lived on the north part of the island. They had said that these people never really learned the magic that made these sorcerers so powerful and well known, but instead they relied solely on their physical abilities. What concerned me the most, however, was the talk that these warriors were possibly helping and even a part of the evil that has been spilling on to the world. Worried from this talk I decided to venture north and see these warriors myself.
Upon arrival of these people, I made sure to distance myself. Talk of their brutish nature and possible teaming with the evil, caution preceded my curiosity. What I had found, though, could be nothing further from the truth. I saw a clan of warriors who were organized and well disciplined. I continued watching them from a distance. Watching them practice day and night, stopping only to eat and sleep. I was astonished by their skill and vigor. They would attack each other with giant four foot long swords. They were able to not only have great attacks but it was their defensive abilities that surprised me. With their swords in their hands they were unable to use a shield but this did not seem to matter. They would move so quickly you could barely keep track and if their opponent was lucky enough to get a swing in they would use their massive swords to deflect these attacks.
As I sat there, from which I had assumed as a safe spot, an arrow came right at me. I must have been at least three hundred yards away and they had missed me by only an inch. I have never seen shooting like this except form the islands to the south that house the brave Amazons. I quickly stood up and raised my arms, not wanting to press my luck with another arrow.
As these people came closer to me, I could closely see their ornate armor. Decorated in colors of red and green, spikes coming from their shoulders and helmets that looked like a dragon’s skull, I had never seen anything like it. They were covered from head to toe in armor strong enough to stop a maul in its place.
Within their custody they had accused me of being a spy from the sorcerer cousins. I hastily explained to them that I meant no harm and told them of my journeys across the lands and attempts to study everything. Upon them accepting my innocence, I talked to them for days, figuring out everything that they had to teach. It turns out that two hundred years ago their clan had separated themselves from their sorcerer ancestors after being turned away when they tried to include melee combat in their training. Angered by this they moved their clan up north and have kept themselves secluded up their since then.
After hearing this, I thought it only right to inform them of the conspiracies about them and the evil upon this world that everyone was talking about. When first told, the leader of these Samurai was infuriated. They have tried to live their lives honorably after their exile and news of this information could not have offended him more. He had asked me what he could do to correct the fallacies people have thought of them. I explained to them the recent surge of the demons coming into this world and that their help in fighting them could greatly restore their honor. Without hesitance the Samurai leader grabbed his giant katana and we departed for Tristram. I felt safe with this strong and proud warrior by my side.

You can find a list of the Samurai's skills here :http://www.diablofan...?t=19255&page=2

This post has been edited by ScyberDragon: 29 May 2009 - 05:05 PM

[ScyberDragon]

Executioner Lore

A man sits alone, hunched over in the corner of a building, hiding in the shadows. He waits patiently, not moving an inch. Many people walk right past him not even noticing that he is there. A sorcerer walks down the street. Laughing as he takes a loaf of bread from a child and then zaps him with lightning after wards. The sorcerer turns the corner and stands with his back turned, right in front of the Executioner.The Executioner leaps forth from the shadows grabbing the man’s neck with his left hand and using his right hand to swiftly draw his blade. Just as quickly as he drew his sword the executioner runs it along the man’s throat severing his head from his body. With head in hand, the Executioner slips back into the shadows disappearing from sight.

The Executioner leaves the city of Lut Gohlein and starts his trek to the city of Caldeum. He finds a boat willing to take him across the river along with a few other passengers. He sits alone, no one knowing that the satchel he carries with him contains the head of another man. The Executioner pulls out a book that he always carries on his side, containing the doctrine that he has lived his life by. While reading his verses he hears the screams of a woman. Looking up slightly over the top of his book he sees two men harassing a lady. “Leave her a lone” the Executioner tells them. “Mind your own business” one of the men reply. The Executioner stands up and again says “Leave her alone”. The two men leave the women and turn their attention to this mysterious man, whose face partially covered by a white mask. “Look” says the bigger of the two men “mind your own business” as he starts to draw the sword hanging from his hip. “You have made this my business” the executioner says with a deep tone to his voice. The two men charge after the Executioner and within the blink of an eye they loose sight of him. Now standing behind the two men, the Executioner draws both blades that sit on his back. His weapons glow a bright red and he lunges one through the first man. As he stabs him through the heart a glow comes from the man flowing back into the Executioner. He then spins around and slices the other man’s torso. The man drops to the floor grabbing his side. The executioner stands over him and preaches “never harm an innocent woman”. With this said the Executioner walks back to his lonesome spot on the boat and pulls his book back out, looking to others as if nothing had just happened.

After departing from the boat the Executioner starts his long walk through the desert to reach Caldeum. Shrouded in his white linen he treks through the desert showing no signs of fatigue. Finally reaching Caldeum, the Executioner makes his way to a giant temple. He approaches the door that is occupied by two guards. They part as he casually walks through the door. He approaches a man sitting in a giant chair and the end of the hall. Before words are even said the Executioner throws the satchel containing the man’s head at the foot of the Sultan. “Where is my reward” the executioner claims. The Sultan laughs heartily as he grabs the satchel and removes its contents. “Here you go” he chuckles as he pulls a bag of coins from his hips and throws it at the Executioner. He quickly grabs it in the air and turns around to head out. “Wait, where are you going?” the sultan yells. “I have another job for you. I need your skills to retrieve something for me.” The Executioner turns around intrigued by the Sultan’s gesture. “I need you to go to Viz-Jun and retrieve an orb for me.” The Executioner quickly turns back around to leave and replies to the Sultan “No.” The Sultan shouts “I’ll give you 2,000 gold” as he grabs another pouch on his side. With hesitance the Executioner walks up to the Sultan and grabs the pouch from his hand. “I want another 2,000 when I return with the orb.” With that said the Executioner disappears before the Sultan could even reply.

“It has been five years now. Five years since I last returned to Viz-Jun. Five years since I have been home; since I have seen my mother and sister. Five years of living in the shadows. But these are the choices I have made. I am too ashamed to show my face back there; ashamed of what my mother would think of me” the Executioner says to himself as he slowly makes his way to Viz-Jun. As soon as he gets within sight of the city, the Executioner can see smoke bellowing from the city. He runs as quickly as he can to reach the city’s walls. He finds the city in ruins, fire coming from buildings and the streets painted with blood. Behind the walls he can her claws scratching and sounds that only the demons form hell themselves can make. He climbs over the wall and drops into the shadows. Hiding from the foul demons within, he makes his way to his house without drawing the attention of the monsters that now occupy the city. The Executioner climbs through the window of his house only to see his sister and mother brutally slain on the floor. Enraged but this sight the executioner bursts open the doors and leaps into the streets. The demons quickly go after him. As the monsters get closer, the Executioner’s body glows with a heavenly light. Using both swords the Executioner slices his way through them, quickly disposing of all of the demons in the city. Rushing back to his dead mother he holds her in his lap. “They will pay for this mother, every last one of them.”


you may find a list of the executioners skills here: http://www.diablofan...?t=19255&page=2

This post has been edited by ScyberDragon: 29 May 2009 - 02:38 AM

[naksucow]

The Unknowns

After 20 years of peace, 20 years of progress, 20 years of life without the brothers, evil has awoken once again. Champions from all over Sanctuary have arisen to fight evil. In this day of age, there is a wider variety of brave men and women fighting evil than there?s ever been before, each with their own unique background and skills. However, before the cataclysm from the sky, the people of Sanctuary had never seen anything like the physical beings that became known as ?The Unknowns?.

The reason the Unknowns have never been seen before is because they are not of the world of Sanctuary, but from another dimension entirely! The planet that the Unknowns are from is in a parallel dimension to Sanctuary, and that dimension has near to polar opposite origins. These two dimensions are related, and affect each other in diverse ways. So when the planet of Sanctuary was struck by the massive object from the sky the collision was so intense, so powerful, that this opened a portal between dimensions for the briefest of moments. This dark portal in the Unknowns description is what consumed most of their population that lived in what they call ?The Glass City?.
In an instant their city was gone, and they found themselves alone in the deepest and darkest places in Sanctuary. Not all of them were together in one place, but were scattered around the continent of the Dreadlands.

The earliest accounts of Unknowns being seen are by groups of fighters who in trying to get a jump on this new uprising from ?hell?, had plummeted into the cavernous dungeons, caves, and lairs in the Dreadlands trying to find the source. In each story, the Unknowns are seen when the demons numbers are at their highest and the fighting it?s bloodiest. They are seen at the back of the demon packs, seemingly working their way out of these demon lairs, hacking and slashing at the fiends, and using dark spells at key moments to cause even more bloodshed than any physical weapon can accomplish itself. In each story, the fighters thought that the demons were making a charge to overwhelm them, but after they saw the Unknowns they realized that the demons weren?t charging them, but in fact running away from the Unknowns!

The Unknowns are more commonly seen now than just after the cataclysm event, but they are always dressed head to toe with every part of their form covered by steel, dark colored garments, and sometimes blown glass shapes with unconventional designs. It is very hard to make out any kind of shape in their face underneath their large hoods. The dark colored garments and steel are not dingy or stained at all, but on the contrary are usually very clean apart from following a bloody fight. For the majority they are very well dressed by nearly everyone?s standards. They seam to have two sexes, but the only way to tell the difference between the sexes is the shape of the chest and their height. Both males and females have the conventional shape of a slender, above average height human being, but the females are usually slightly shorter than the males. The Unknowns fighting style is very unique, but in an odd way similar to a Paladin or Crusader?s style in that they are mainly a fighter, but a powerful caster as well. Some believe that the Unknowns were mirrors of Crusader?s in their own polar opposite dimension. This would explain their fighting style similarity, and also their eccentric differences.

The Unknowns, who were at first taken aback by their occurrence on the unfamiliar planet of Sanctuary, have postulated the reason of the portal opening, and the destruction of their home city for themselves. Consequentially, the Unknowns who at first detested the dark fiends and demons for their smell and lack of foresight for the general well being of the populace, have now placed blame on their source of power (Diablo) for the massive collision that caused their presence in Sanctuary, and have the deepest of hatred for this source that rivals the Paladins of old.

This post has been edited by naksucow: 28 May 2009 - 03:56 AM

[shibblicious]

Monks of Sanctuary

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!

This post has been edited by shibblicious: 29 May 2009 - 03:09 AM

[KQKyle]

The Falconer






Sweat soaked the lining of Waheed's helm, the temptation to tear away the straps holding the burnished metal to his pate was almost too much to bare. To do so however would be suicide, the caravan was under siege.

For almost a week now the caravan he was leading to Caldeum had been beset by raiders from one of the desert tribes that rejected the trade city's claim over their desert. Waheed smiled, his first years under the employ of the old mercenary master Griez were spent purging the wastes surrounding his birthplace, the desert jewel Lut Gholein. The smile darkened, just as Lut Gholein was colored glass compared to the magnificence of Caldeum, the tribesmen he faced as a youth seemed to be nothing in comparison to the raiders that were picking them apart on the last stretch of their journey.

The first days were massacres, he quickly learned that any shortage of armor, any lack of leather or chain to cover their flesh was an invitation to be punished with an arrow coated with whatever venom these barbarians were able to coax from the native wildlife of this damned desert. Riders were only sent out to investigate the first day, they learned a hard lesson when only a few found their way out of the sandstorm that rose up around them. They told of how their horses crippled themselves stumbling over inexplicably hollow dunes and spans of glass, leaving them helpless to the volley of arrows. A lad barely into manhood was left hysterical, raving of a shadow gliding in the storm, snatching men off their horses never to be seen again. Little mind was paid to the boy's tale until the guards set out at night started vanishing, no tracks in any direction, no sign they had been there at all besides a fading scream.

Relief, Waheed knew, was soon to come, whether it was from the bar of the first tavern past Caldeum's gates or if he found it laying in the sands, his final resting place drinking down his blood. In all his years, from his childhood hunting scorpions outside the city walls to the decades spent guarding merchants and nobles on their travels, he never thought he would come to fear the dunes. Safety. Death. As long as the nightmare would end. Relief.

His smiled returned as he saw a shape rise up from the top of the dune to their right. A sole figure, the sun casting its shadow nearly to his feet. It couldn't be one of the raiders, Waheed reasoned, to show yourself as plainly, as mockingly as this to even the greenest caravan guard would be foolish. With a curse he blinked away the sweat that had dripped into his eyes, the next he saw the figure was gone, enveloped by a wall of sand cascading towards them, at its head a falcon larger than he would have ever thought possible.

Horses screamed, nearly obscuring the sound of arrows slamming into them. He tried to shout a command but it was no use, daring to open his mouth robbed his throat of what little moisture was left, choking him on the dust that surrounded them. More screams, human screams and the smell of smoke. The wagons were being set aflame. A nobleman managed to pry himself free of the pyre, his flailing tangling him in his own burning silks only to be engulfed in shadow, it was gone then, a trail of feathers and smoke in its wake. The boy, on his knees several paces ahead of Waheed, was wailing in terror as he watched the falcon meld back into the walls of shifting sand around them. Before he could call out to him he was gone, the sand had risen up and swallowed him whole and in his place stood the figure from the dune. It seemed to be made from the sand itself, from the tan cloth bound to its frame by innumerable leather bindings to the actual sand covering it, it was no wonder they had never found them. Most striking of all was the armor encasing its left forearm, plate steel that looked as though it had been all but torn apart by some beast. Waheed knew this was his only chance, he gripped the halberd that had served him well in more battles than he'd care to remember, swallowed the little moisture that had returned to his throat and charged. Even when the figure turned around well before he expected it to notice him he kept his composure. Even when the figure effortlessly parried the slash he had put all of his strength in, he kept his composure. Even when the figure slipped a knife though a part in his armor he had thought was safe, the poison instantly assailing his senses, he kept his composure. It was the shadow that fell upon them, the talons that gripped the figure by its left arm and lifted it away that made Waheed know despair. The first arrow took his grip from him, the second and third took his knees, the last, his breath.

The riders from the city found nothing but burnt wreckage and corpses. Foreigners, attracted to Caldeum by the promise of work and safety whispered to each other of demons and the return of the beings they called the Prime Evils, noting the brutality of the attack and the unusual lack of blood. The native born however recognized this all too well, a warrior of the Garuda tribe, a Falconer. When asked about the state of the corpses the reply was a saying common among the desert-born of Caldeum, 'The desert drinks deep.'


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Skill info about this fierce desert warrior can be found in a post by Moxjet200 in the Class Skill Contest thread found here. http://www.diablofan...1717#post441717


Thank you for your time and for reading my story, I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. :)

This post has been edited by KQKyle: 28 May 2009 - 07:00 PM