Quote (JadeBlade23 @ Dec 9 2015 05:15am)
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Originally I just wanted to write a short story about Alkor and the Amulet of Kul'yeh but it turned into this:
High Noon – a Diablo showdown
It was not always like this. Alkor wheezed as he stood atop the ramparts of the Kurast metropolis. The Swirling Crystal of Tal Rasha continued its slow, buzzing hum as he held it in his left hand. Slow drips of blood fell to the ground from the fresh wound on his hip as he surveyed the vast area of abandoned temples. The smell of death was still in the air. The sun was the middle of its majestic path along the noon horizon and its rays pierced his sweaty brow. But he could not give up yet. The Amulet of Kul’yeh was surely within his grasp now.
* * *
It was not always like this. A younger life revealed the life of a scholar, a law abiding citizen. Alkor had studied at the High Monastery of the Zakarum just two years ago. He was sure to begin his life as one of the Elected. All of his spells were developed, all his incantations approved by the High Council. His mentor, Ormus the Wise, had all but assured him that he would be accepted to the Order. Alkor was the first from his family in the sleepy city of Lut Gholein to attend the High Monastery. Back home, his family was quietly buzzing with excitement. They could not believe that their only son would climb so high in the world. Lycander had always said he had greatness in him, but this was beyond anyone’s dream. Alkor had truly surpassed all expectations. He would be the toast of the town for many years, or so they thought.
As he panted and attempted to cast a healing spell on his bleeding limb, he tried to understand how he came to be in this situation, atop the shrine of the Ruined Temple, surrounded by the decaying smell of Zealots, Hierophants, and whatever beasts the jungles of Kurast could throw at him. How could he have strayed so far? Deckard Cain. Just the thought of those words caused a burning in his heart, a ringing in his ears that reminded him of his foolish naivety. How could that old fool have convinced him to do all this? It was not long ago that the old prophet appeared in the bazaars of Kurast. He was known in the old city, a kind of old hermit with tall tales who misled the youth. Alkor remembers the first he spoke to the man, who was now but a shadow figure of greed in his crumbling world.
It was in the rustic bazaar of the Lower Kurast underworld that Cain and Alkor first met. Most of the pupils of the high monastery avoided the place, calling it a “hive of scum and villany,” but that would not deter Alkor. Alkor took pride in his working class roots, and the pungent smell and rustic colors of the long hallways and empty dungeons always gave him a sense of homeliness and comfort that the pristine halls of the Kurast temple never could. The patrons; wayward travelers, merchants, scum, shared stories of the travels far beyond anything a member of the Elected could ever share. The ale and the fire was warm and comforting, and the loose women of the bazaar shot glances and wore outfits far more captivating than any of the Temple Virgins. Perhaps in hindsight it is not a surprise that Alkor’s path was less than perfect.
* * *
It was a Thursday just like any other, when Alkor was playing cards with the patrons who stumbled in. A red-haired Druid, with a dire wolf at his side and a raven on his shoulder stroked his beard by the firelight as he pondered his next move. Across from Alkor sat a mighty Paladin, clad in an armor, stopping for a night before continuing his quest for a mighty treasure. The fourth player was Natalya, the bartender for the bazaar. Alkor was not the only student at the monastery who came to the bazaar with the hopes of catching her eye. Her leather outfit clung tight on her body, accentuating every aspect of her full figure. Her brown hair, flowing past her shoulders to the mid of her back, sparkled in the light of the fire like stars in the evening sky. Her blue eyes glowed like the brightest shard of the Worldstone, filling anyone who looked at them with radiance. Her high heels made a slight click as she strode across the bazaar floor, as tall as any of the women of Harrogath. She smiled coyly as she surveyed the table and contemplated her next move in the game. She knew most of the clients in the bazaar today, the red-haired Druid an old acquaintance, but the appearance of this Paladin was a pleasant surprise to her. She could not help but inquire who he was.
“I am but a common traveler. My name… is Platypus” said the Paladin.
“A common travelver? I think not. I know the Herald of Zakarum when I see it!” said Natalya, pointing to the massive shield that Platypus was holding. “You must be a Paladin!” Natalya said, her tone of voice and the sparkle in her eye betraying a childish excitement, an excitement that Alkor always wished he could evoke.
“I suppose so” said Platypus “but I wish my journey through Kurast to be carried out in silence, for I am on a mission best carried out in a clandestine manner”
Natalya leaned in closer to him, her chest thrust out forwards. Alkor looked on, envious of the attention the Paladin was receiving. Natalya’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and approval.
“I seek the Amulet of Kul’yeh” continued the Paladin. The Druid rolled his eyes, but Natalya looked on, eager as ever.
Alkor did not know what to make of it. Of course he had heard of the amulet in his studies at the monastery, like any of his classmates. He knew of the immense power and knowledge that it imparted on its wearer. He could recount as well as anyone the tales of the Great Mage Kul’yeh, whose scholarship and wisdom gave him a power over the world that few had matched. It was all but compulsory for the aspiring Elected to learn of how Kul’yeh had fought against the Prime Evils in time immemorial. It was said that Kul’yeh’s mastery of the elements was so strong, that he could conjure might blizzards to smite his enemies. When the unlucky foes of Kul’yeh were stunned by these hails of ice and snow, he would make meteors rain upon them, creating craters in the earth that would last until the ending of the world. There was once a time when Kul’yeh stood alone against Baal, Lord of Destruction, upon the plains of Harrogath, defending the mortal realms from the tyranny of the Three. Yet his power could not be broken by strength of magic or witchcraft. It was only when Mephisto, Lord of Hatred managed to sedate him and steal his Amulet that Kul’yeh was defeated. With his amulet gone, Kul’yeh’s power was broken. He was vanquished by the Three, and their anger and wrath was so great that they burned his corpse into ashes and strew the ashes into the four corners of the world. The Zakarum had managed to find his ashes and reconstitute them into a mighty relic, but the Amulet of Kul’yeh was never found.
“That’s a bunch of nonsense” said Alkor. “Kul’yeh’s amulet was lost once he was defeated by the Three, everyone knows this. You’re just on a fool’s errand.”
“Is that so?” Platypus snapped. “What would a wanna-be priest of the Order know about this? I’ve been slaying Venom Lords since you wore diapers, boy.”
The Druid let out a stifled laugh before downing another ale. Alkor went slightly red in the ears, like he did when he could not recount the Seven Elements during one of Ormus’s seminars. Once the Druid was done his ale, he showed his hand – a Full Zakarum (two priests and three crystals) – and with a huge grin he collected the money everyone had on the table.
“Oh well. Why don’t I tell you more about Kul’yeh’s amulet?” Platypus smiled at Natalya and put his hand on her elbow. The two of them left the table and moved to the bar, leaving Alkor alone with this slightly malodorous Druid at the table. The red haired man let out a loud belch and started petting his wolf, then he proceeded to pay his tab and left the bazaar. Alkor was left alone, looking at Natalya as she warmed up to that arrogant Paladin at the bar.
“Son, it’s true what he says” a grizzled voice spoke out from Alkor’s left side. A wizened old man sat down at the table. This man had a large grey beard that covered most of his face. From in between the tufts of grey hair that hung from his head, Alkor could make out two small, piercing blue eyes. The man had a round, friendly face, a very large nose, and he put his two large hands on the table. He had a quiet demeanor, his haggled appearance giving the impression of a man who has seen enough of the world to no longer be surprised by anything.
This man was Deckard Cain. Alkor had heard of him, who hadn’t, but he had never spoken to Cain before. Cain continued on, his way with words capturing young Alkor’s mind with thoughts of glory and honor. He spoke of the Amulet, and the immense power that it bestows. He spoke also of wealthy traders in the West who would give a fortune for whoever could recover the relic. Alkor was enchanted. All he could imagine was the Amulet around his neck, Natalya beaming at him as he entered the bazaar victorious.
“What must I do to find it?” asked Alkor hurriedly.
“It will not be simple. The location of the Amulet may only be found in the high archives of Travincal. And even then, we can not be sure. Many of the Zakarum Order have set out to find it before, and none have succeeded. I myself spent near half a decade on this quest, but without the access to the Travincal archives, I was not successful. Yet I have reason to believe that Toorc Icefist was the last person to know the location of the amulet, and he translated all knowledge of its location into an ancient Horadric dialect before his overthrow by Bartuc the Bloody and the rest of the High Council.”
“Well, access to the Travincal archives won’t be easy! No one but the Elected are allowed to go there, and it will be over a year before my thesis A Novel Potion to Restore Stamina is finished and accepted!” protested Alkor.
“Get real! If I wanted to, I could write a paper on stamina potions and get accepted myself. The point is, as a student in the high monastery, it would not take much for you to “accidentally” stumble upon the high archives and bring me what I need. Then I will translate it and we can split the loot once we sell it. I know of a wealthy blacksmith named Charsi who would be willing to pay as much as 35,000 gold coins for it.”
“If I’m the one going to put my career on the line, I want at least 25,000” bargained Alkor. That would at least cover the tuition at the Lut Gholein Academy if he got in trouble for all of this. It still didn’t sound like a good deal, but his mind was made up, there was no turning back now.
* * *
Alkor struggled to mask his steps in the main Atrium of the temple. He entered the hidden archives of Travincal and was able to avoid the Zealots that guarded the sealed doors. The zealots were mere brutes who the Zakarum had hired for lesser tasks, so fooling them was no great feat. Alkor was beyond himself when he went to the lower level and found himself in “The Personal Record of Toorc Icefist, seventeeth High Mage of the Zakarum Order. “
This was a room unlike no other. Hierophant trophies hung from the walls and there were magic amulets strewn about the room. A small box covered in elaborated golden writing was sitting on a desk. Alkor though this must be it, but when he opened it, he saw in it instead the Stone of Jordan, one of the most valued relics of the ancient world. He left it in its place, fearing that if he were caught with this in Kurast they would surely know where it came from. He saw a shelf with scores of old parchments. Most were either detailing scientific experiments of the day or inventory data. Inbetween “Of the ability of thawing potions to overcome Frozen Orb” and “Decrepify: Uses and misuses” he saw a strange parchment, written in a different dialect from all the others. He compared it to the Horadric script that Deckard Cain gave him as an example. It was a good match. He took the parchment and ran out of the archive.
Alkor ran up the winding stairs of the temple as fast as he could, just waiting to get past the anti-teleportation spells that prevented anyone from breaking in or out of the compound. Once he was clear of that barrier he could get as far away from the temple as he needed. He continued down the long hallways of the temple when he overheard footsteps approaching. He quickly ducked into a side corridor before he put out his torch and continued into the darkness. He slowed down to conceal his whereabouts. As he continued, he began hearing a slow, deep, rasping breath that was coming ever closer. Alkor tried to lose his pursuer, but the breathing came ever closer. Fear gripped him. He knew who was coming, so he pulled out Tal Rasha’s Swirling Crystal and created a beam of light around him to guide his path. He saw that the exit was near and he ran to it, but before his could leave, a fell voice was in the air.
“Stop!” the voice commanded.
Alkor turned around, and just a few meters before him was none another than Bartuc the Bloody, eighteenth High Mage of the Zakarum Order. Bartuc loomed above him, eight feet tall, with spikes emanating from his ghastly body. He wore a red cape, draped across his right shoulder. On his left shoulder lay a mighty pauldron with the mark of the Elected upon it. Bartuc was as powerful as he was feared, and it seemed the air itself around him was colder by his mere presence.
“One does not simply walk into Travincal” he proclaimed. “You will surrender what you have taken, and you will be expelled from the high monastery for this!”
“Never!” Responded Alkor “I know what you did to Toorc Icefist, I will not surrender to a tyrant like you!”
Alkor blasted a fireball at Bartuc, who parried it easily. Bartuc summoned Hydras – great snakes which rose from the ground to spray fire at Alkor, draining him of the Energy Shield he cast in the last second. Alkor tried to teleport out of range, but the spells inside the compound prevented this spell from working. He cast a frozen orb which sprayed ice across the hallway, taming the hydras. The flame that wreathed their bodies was extinguished and they fell stiff to the ground. Still, Bartuc was unfazed and he charged at Alkor, swinging with cut-throat claws that were sure to leave open wounds. Alkor stumbled after a blow to his hip and he fell, but he realized he could make a run for it and reach the outside of the compound and teleport away. Before he did, however, Bartuc cast his Mark upon Alkor, labelling him as an enemy for all the Zealots and Hierophants that guard Kurast. After Alkor stepped outside the compound threshold, one gentle hum of the teleportation spell and he was back in Deckard Cain’s tent in the main city.
* * *
Cain spent hours poring over the parchment that Alkor delivered. Alkor spent those hours agonizing about the repercussions of what he had done – now that the Mark was upon him, there was no way he could go back to the high monastery. Was 25,000 gold really worth it? And he didn’t even have the amulet yet! This was starting to seem like a worse deal by the minute. In the depths of his despair, Cain raised his scratchy voice.
“I have finished the translation!” said Cain. “On the midsummer solstice, when Solaris is at it’s peak, look upon the highest of Old Kurast and ye shall have the secret of Kul’Yeh within your grasp”
“Incredible! That must mean the Ruined Temple! It has been in Kurast all this time!?!? And the midsummer solstice?? We only have two days!” Alkor was beyond himself. Perhaps things would work out for the better in the end!
Alkor spent the two days preparing in Cain’s tent. Cain was able to identify magic items free of charge, which Alkor used to his full advantage to swindle deals in the Kurast Bazaar. He made sure to avoid going near Old Kurast or the high monastery for fear of the Zealots and the High Council. With Cain’s help he was able to repair his old equipment, load up on mana potions and soon he was on his way.
He arrived at the gates of Old Kurast on the morning of the solstice, with the sun already making its way across the early sky. He began walking cautiously, but Zealots were seemingly drawn to his presence due to the mark. They charged at him with scythes in hand, with Hierophants in the background conjuring lightning and thunder form the sky. Alkor swatted aside the Zealots with his well-learned fire spells. The bodies of zealots piled up as he made his way to the Ruined Temple, his fireballs scorching the earth as he went. He reached the top level of the temple, and crossed the ramparts that led to the very peak. A score of zealots were in pursuit, but Alkor was sure to reach the peak. As he did, he saw something glimmering in the sunlight.
He ran up to it, and sure enough, there it was. A multitude of colors reflected off the beautiful amulet, the sunlight reflecting off it and producing seemingly kaleidoscopic images. For a brief moment Alkor stood still, mystified, looking at the amulet. He moved forward to grab it and immediately felt a surge of power through his hands – he felt as if all of his skills were more learned, as if his strength and vitality could increase in a split second by simply putting this amulet across his neck. As he did, he felt a pair of footsteps approach him from across the ramparts.
“Well well” said a deep, commanding voice. “You aren’t as useless as you look. Did you think you could eavesdrop on me and steal my prize? I am sent here by the Zakarum themselves, and you will hand it over!” commanded Platypus, appearing in full armor, his Archon Plate reflecting the sunlight in a brilliant haze.
“So how much did Bartuc agree to pay you? No matter, because you won’t make it out to claim your prize!” retorted Alkor
Platypus didn’t respond. He drew a crystal sword and raised it into the air, issuing a call to arms to all the nearby zealots. He then pulled out his scepter and began rushing across the ramparts together with his group of zealots.
With the full glow of Tal Rasha’s scepter Alkor let loose a barrage of fireballs across the ramparts, wreaking havoc on the myriad of zealots that came his way. Still, Platypus was not to be undone. His shield of Zakarum shone under the midday sun, as he deflected and smote away Alkor’s fireballs with ease. He raised his scepter into the air and a powerful blast of lightning hit Alkor from the sky, piercing his energy shield and knocking him to the ground. Alkor was stunned but he got up before Platypus could charge at him. Alkor raised a fierce wall of fire across the Kurast temple, preventing Platypus from crossing. Alkor brought down a mighty meteor from the sky, and when dust rose all over the Kurast landscape, he was sure that he had vanquished his foe. Yet from the crater that he created, Platypus charged straight through the firewall and into Alkor’s shield. Alkor’s Viscretuant broke into fragments as he reeled from this sudden blow. Disoriented, he had no choice but to teleport to the other side of the city. He turned past one of the grey stone buildings, when he heard the familiar humming noise of the teleportation spell again.
He could not believe it! Platypus had teleported right in front of him, and was once again charging at him! How could this Paladin have learned the hidden skill of teleportation? Alkor had no choice but to leap away yet again, wary of the Paladin that was surely on his trail. What followed was a whirlwind across the entire kurast landscape: the two warriors never stood still as they chased each other across the city, creating havoc as they went. The earth was filled with craters where Platypus smote his scepter, and the ash from Alkor’s meteors and fireballs blanketed the sky in a dark-grey haze. The Amulet of Kul’yeh shone across Alkor’s neck as it imbued him with the Mana that he needed to continue his battle with this great foe. He switched between fire and thunder and ice, but Platypus withstood his battery all the same. Their titanic struggle continued against the backdrop of the abandoned Kurast temples, a blur of energy and color as the fire and ice from Alkor’s orb sprayed across the dull grey temples where they fought.
As Platypus continued to batter Alkor from the sky and the ground, Alkor reeled and needed to think of something fast before his powers waned once and for all. Desperate, he recalled his teachings from Ormus and set up a clever trap. He cast a meteor on top of one of the ruined temples, and right before it was due to hit, he teleported in the middle of the blast zone. Platypus, caught in a furious rage, teleported on top of Alkor, ready to finish him with a final blow. Yet Alkor managed to escape in the last second, and the meteor hit Platypus squarely on the head. He fell to the ground, his scepter at his side. As Alkor walked closer, he noticed that the meteor sheared Platypus’s left ear off. Alkor wasn’t sure why, but he took the Paladin’s ear and walked back to the bazaar, waiting for a heroes’ welcome and a rematch in cards with the red-haired Druid.
This post was edited by xKlakabush on Dec 8 2015 11:19pm