Hardcore, Players 8, No PlugY, Spear only (Can use starting Javelin until first spear found/bought. Will only use Jab, Impale, Fend + Passive and Magic tree).

The fall of Tristram spread across all of Sanctuary, including to my home in the South Sea at the Skovos Isles. Not even our best oracles were able to use the Sightless Eye to see the future anymore, as darkness enveloped both present and future. The Skovos Isles had long been isolated from the conflicts with demons in the East and West as it's a harsh land, with even harsher warriors. Blessed by the likes of Athulua, Hefaetrus, and Karcheus, our Askari warriors were regarded across Sanctuary as masters of the bow, javelin, and spear--and our fiercest warriors could wield elements of fire, ice, and lightning to devastating effect.

I, however, had neither received the training from my fellow Askari sisters nor the blessings of our ancestral deities. Perhaps guilty of hubris, I decided to venture to the Western Lands with nothing but a spear in-hand and fire in my heart as too many of my sisters had not returned from their scouting missions, and too ominous were the warnings of our oracles. I could not sit idly back at the Isles waiting for Diablo and the rest of the Burning Hells to close in on us. Thus, I set out to find the Rogue Encampment, seeking to connect with Sisters of the Sightless Eye in the hopes that our shared ancestry would allow me to feel a home away from home.

A well-traveled man named Warriv welcomed me to the Rouge Encampment upon my arrival, his sheathed weapon in plain sight showing just how immediate the threat of Hell was looming on this place. I had heard legends of the Rogue Monastery and was surprised to hear that they were forced to flee and make due in this dreary encampment, which was scant of warriors and full of hastily-built shanties and abundant in rain but of little else--especially hope. In confession, I was in want of knowing that my arrival would instill even the faintest flickers of hope for those within the encampment, but I soon came to find that I was not the first Askari to pass through camp, but I was the only one to be seen for quite some time. A great many Rogues and some Askari warriors, Warriv told me grimly, had left on missions outside the walls of the encampment only to never be seen or heard from again. I could hear the strain and fear in his voice, as I ascertained that Warriv was no warrior, and he indicated that the camp's leader Akara may have some information about my sisters. I took the wavering in his voice as an invitation to give him some space rather than relay to me all of the horrors he had witnessed, and sought Akara.

Cloaked in a radiant purple, Akara stood out in her unyielding brightness despite it pouring rain in a corner of the camp. She reminded me of the Oracles back home at the Isles, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't good to see a fellow sister. I think Akara was also happy to see a sister, if not also focused and cautious--I imagine she had lost too many familiar faces if they had to flee the monastery. Akara was quick to make sure that those we've lost would not have their efforts be wasted or in vain, and after basic pleasantries and introductions she informed me of a threat outside the camp's walls in a place now referred to as The Den of Evil. Named such due to the unrelenting demons that emerged from the cave, but also because nobody who has entered the cave has lived to tell the tale. Out of desire to prove myself and earn this camp's trust, as well as to avenge our fallen sisters, I told Akara that I would cleanse this den if it meant even the shortest amount of reprieve for her people. With her blessing and thanks, I left Akara in camp and ventured out.







This post was edited by Handcuffs on May 8 2022 05:28pm

Even just standing outside the cave's entrance had filled me with apprehension. I knew that if so many had been lost inside this demon-infested cave before, that it would be foolish for me to enter unprepared. Although without formal training, I had on occasion practiced in secret with a spear that I would borrow from our training grounds back at home. Through better judgment, I decided to put my ego aside and recognized that I would need this camp's assistance just as much as they might need mine. Through talking to more camp members, I was directed to Charsi who was the camp's blacksmith--and who was highly regarded by the people of camp as being a world-class blacksmith. The camp had spoken quite highly of all that she has been able to accomplish after making do with an impromptu setup that paled to what she had access to back in the monastery. I found myself thankful to Charsi--safer, in a way--as she provided me with a high-quality spear that felt familiar to the touch as soon as I wielded it. With there perhaps being no greater weapon than confidence, I charged along spear in-hand to the so-called Den of Evil.







This post was edited by Handcuffs on May 8 2022 05:37pm

Damp, dark, and filled with animosity and bloodlust, the "Den of Evil" was aptly named. Though despite malicious fallens, powerful zombies, and gargantuan beasts, the most harrowing part of this cave was in seeing the ground littered with the corpses of my sisters. It was more than I could stand seeing body after mangled body, and I felt myself overcome with my own bloodlust as I went deeper into this vile place. I had resolved to kill every last demon I could find in this cave in an act of fury and rage. I was only once-again grounded by a piercing light that radiated gently through the cave as I struck the final demon down. I knew my sisters were now watching me.







This post was edited by Handcuffs on May 8 2022 05:45pm

Nice! Good luck

gl

Thanks for checking out the thread!

Cleansing the Den of Evil brought light to the cave, and hope to the Rogue Encampment. Many had feared that the camp could not hold out much longer as the minions of Hell continued to close in, but for the first time the inhabitants were able to gain a night of rest--and I was able to gain their trust. Word had spread quickly through the encampment and not long after my return Kashya, the leader of the camp's warriors, implored me to assist in liberating a former, now-corrupted Rogue named Blood Raven who was desecrating the sacred burial grounds and ressurrecting our fallen dead to fight against us. Demons were one thing, but using our dead as puppets was something I could not let stand. With haste, I had set out to dispatch Blood Raven and as my final blow caused Blood Raven's twisted, maleficent body to explode in radiating, cleansing lightning which brought her the peace all sisters deserve.

Kashya was thankful to know that Blood Raven was now at peace, especially since they had been best friends before Blood Raven's corruption. It had earned me not only her trust, but the rest of the rogue warriors' trust too, many of whom offered to join me in battle. I had been humbled by all the dead sisters I had seen thus far, and knew myself foolish to ever decline such assistance. Both body and mind were of value to me, and so I made quick bonds with one of the Rogues named Kyle and implored her to share with me what she knew about the fall of Tristram. Sharp as her arrows, Kyle said that no words could describe what happened. We would have to go see for ourselves. With Akara's guidance, I had learned of a scroll that would allow us to use the Cairn Stones to gain access to Tristram and potentially save any who had not yet been slain--one of whom ended up being the great Horadrim scholar known as Deckard Cain. It was in this battle that I found my first higher-quality spear, and it was as though Athulua were finally shining her grace on me.