Shadows harbor the essence of Darkness. Within Darkness, lies
many secrets, for that is the nature of Darkness. It obstructs 
clarity, by taking advantage of the momentary abscence of the power 
of Light. This was a world on the verge of being consumed by Darkness. 
A world where one of the greatest demons of Hell escaped from what 
would have been his eternal prison. A world where the unlikeliest of 
heroes would emerge. This was a world wherethe forces of Heaven and 
Hell had taken their battle to the mortal plane, flexing enough 
power to threaten to tear the very fabric of reality apart. This was 
the world of Sanctuary.

	Within this world, there were kingdoms, great civilizations, 
cities. Within one of these cities, there was an insane asylum. It was 
somewhat run-down, as the governor had felt a need to pour more money 
into defenses. After all, the world was hardly safe anymore. The 
minions of Hell were pouring into the mortal realm in droves, 
corrupting human souls or killing them wherever they went. The asylum 
was dark, and poorly lit. A cloaked figure opened the rusted iron 
gates, the grating noise causing several spiders to scurry away as 
quickly as they could. As the shadowed being walked down the halls of 
the asylum, tortured moans could be heard echoing throughout the dark, 
desolate rooms. As the figure reached his final destination, a sharp 
snap rang out, and a scream pierced his ears. He opened the door, 
unaffected.

	There, on the floor, lay an old man. His hair was wispy and 
white, thinned out, and unkempt. Startled by the sudden shriek of the 
rusted hinges of his cell's door, he jerked around, trying to place 
the source of the noise within his line of sight. The cloaked man 
stood there. The emfeebled figure on the ground immediately jerked 
back, recognizing the man in the cloak from some forgotten memory or 
dream. As the old man moved erratically across the floor, a metal 
chamber pot was hit, sending it clanging across the ground. The 
cloaked figure slowly walked over to a chair in front of a window, 
the only source of light in theroom, and sat down, his face shrouded 
in almost perpetual complete darkness, Finally, he spoke. "So, Marius. 
At last I find you."

	Marius looked up at the figure. An intense light shone from 
the window, piercing Marius' gaze, and forcing him to recall one of 
the memories which plagued his dreams. The figure, with a face which 
was incomprehensable......... yes, the angel. "Tyrael!", Marius 
exclaimed, the first coherent thought which had entered his mind. 
"Yes... yes, NOW I recognize you..." Marius continued. "Yes, I should 
have known you'd travel in disguise..." he said, sounding somewhat 
short on breath. "They... they're always watching..." Marius breathed 
frantically, looking around the room.

	If the figure heard these words, he paid no attention to them. 
"I was searching for you for a long time, Marius." the cloaked being 
continued. "I was rather beginning to think you didn't want to be 
found." he continued, sounding somewhat dissapointed.

	Marius began to panic, breathing rapidly, and a pained 
expression entered his face. "Forgive me, Tyrael. It... it wasn't my 
fault." He explained.

	If his face could be seen, the cloaked figure would most 
certainly be giving Mariusa suspicious glare. "Not your fault?" He 
questioned. He leaned closer. "Tell me, Marius," the figure asked, 
somewhat amused. "How was this 'not your fault'?"

	Marius quickly collected himself, forcing himself to recall 
his memories. "It was..."he said, as he struggled to remember. "The 
Wanderer..." he recalled, as he shifted his gazeupwards. "Yes," he 
continued, with more strength in his voice. "It was the Wan-" 

*SLAM*

	"OW!" Marius shouted, as his head made a solid impact with 
the stone wall behind him.

=================================

I N S E R T   T I T L E   H E R E

A Diablo II Fanfic

Chapter 1

Written by Demented "Demota" Otaku

==================================

	Akara frowned. Things had NOT been going well for the
Sisters of the Sightless Eye. As their leader, things should NOT have
gone this poorly.The Rogues had been a proud and powerful group, but 
recent conditions had been... unfavorable. It all started when the 
monastary which had been their ancestral home since the beginning 
suddenly had a portal from Hell opened up. A large pentagram covered 
most of the floor, with a glowing red portal in the center. Shortly 
after it opened up, a steady flood of demons leapt out, and began to 
lay siege to the monastary from within.

	After killing off the initial flood,they decided to ignore 
it. Maybe it would go away. However, the portal from Hell did NOT go 
away. After killing off another flood of demons, they nailed boards 
over it. That didn't exactly work either. Finally, they resorted to 
piling furniture over it. An even larger flood of demons broke 
through, but this time, one of the Seven Great Evils had come. 
Andariel, the Maiden of Anguish. Using a strange demonic power, she 
flooded the minds of many Rogues with dark energies, turning them 
against their sisters. The following fights were too much for them 
to handle. So, the Rogues were forced out of their home, and settled 
in a temporary encampment until they could reclaim their home. Until
then, the Monastary doors would remain nailed shut with boards.

	She gazed over the campsite. The past few months here were
somewhat hectic. Many Sisters were becoming increasingly irritated
from the embarassing defeat and having to set up new homes for
themselves, and losing many of their possessions, as well as having
to strike down close friends who had become corrupted. The loss of 
one of their finest, Blood Raven, to corruption, was an expecially
rough blow to the overall mood of the members of the Rogue camp.
Or maybe it was because the only water around the place was used by 
demons as a urinal. She wasn't quite sure. Recently, adventurers had 
come to the camp and learned of their plight. They were offered 
lodging in exchange for promising to make an effort to help liberate
the Rogue Monastary. And gold. Gold was nice also. Helped to buy 
much-needed supplies, and to set up some temporary shops for the 
Sisters who carried out trade. Suddenly, the sharp impact of a slap 
rang out, echoing across the entire Rogue Camp. Akara blinked in 
surprise, brushing the hood of her violet cloak off temporarily, 
in an attempt to hear the sound more effectively.

=====================

	People in armor are generally weighted down greatly. Sending 
a heavily-armored person into the air for even a small distance would 
be, at best, difficult. However, Kashya, the military leader of the
Sisters of the Sightless Eye, seemed to do so effortlessly. The
dark-haired man in the shining silver armor was currently sprawled
across the ground. His helm, was lying on the ground some distance
from him, a handprint-shaped indentation permanentaly imprinted on 
it from repeated blows over the past few years.

	"For the last time," Kashya said, glaring at the man. "A
night of "hot luvluv" is NOT acceptable payment!"

	"Not even if I gave it to everyone here?" The young man
asked, desperately. 

	"NO!" Kashya shouted. "Offer it again, and we wouldn't accept
you even if you offered us the Anvil of Fury AND the Horadric Malus."
she continued, glaring at the man.

	"Very well then," the young knight said as he stood up. "I 
apologize for my earlier lewdness." he continued, reaching for a
leather sack attached to his belt. "Here," he said, as he drew
out the required coinage with a dramatic motion of his hand. 
"Is the payment for staying here with you and your entourage, 
mi'lady." he continued with a bow.