• Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or the characters; only Oc’s
    Chapter 3: A Heroes Return


    Ogden sat tending to the front of the inn; his face fluster with anger as he looked over, “Demons stole my sign while I slept last night. Them Buggers woke me.” He said as he looked up noticing a familiar face walking up to him.
    “Good morning Ogden.” The man smirked with a wave as he approached the lanky man.
    “Well I’ll be dammed, Tristan.” He glared at the man.
    The man stood at a shocking 6ft 12, his blonde hair cut long enough to slick back with gel, and he wore armor forged from the last visit. A large sword weighing approximately 50 lbs was strapped across his back with fine leather.
    He looked over at Ogden his sea foam blue eyes filled with both joy and concern.
    “What is the problem Ogden?” His voice rung with concern.
    “Several days ago, a necromancer who called himself Lazarus came into the town. He volunteered to rid the chapel of the demons, but according to Farnham it was actually a trap.” Ogden took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, “He kidnapped the prince, and with the king dead we believe that there is a greater danger to come.”
    Tristan bowed his head as his face filled with a thoughtful look, “And where is Farnham now?” His face filled with questions.
    “He usually sits near the river downing bottle after bottle of foul liquor.” Ogden spoke as he pointed in the direction of Farnham.

    Tristan walked over to the man sitting staring into the river; his eyes vacant, as he seemed to be in deep thought or possible remembering something that he did not want to.
    “Good day good sir.” Tristan said as he kneeled next to the man, “may I offer you some brandy?”
    “No. no brandy.” The man slurred as he looked up a Tristan.
    Farnham looked older than he normally would, lines filled his face, and his eyes where sunken in form the lack of sleep. His cloths where old and dirty and the smell that he emitted attracted flies looking for something dead.
    Tristan looked at the once proud man as he gathered his thoughts.
    “Tell me what happened in the chapel.” He said sat in the grass next to Farnham.
    The man’s eyes filled as though he was attempting to think of it. “No, No, No.” The man whimpered as his pale eyes filled with tears.
    Tristan pated his back in at attempt to comfort him, but the man only moved his shoulder.
    “No, so much blood, so much pain.” He shouted covering his face, “The beast killing us one by one Lazarus said to trust him, but A trap, no, stop.” He curled up in a ball as though being tormented by the images in his head.
    Tristan slapped Farnham, “Snap outta it!” he shouted, “You are alive and that is all that maters.” He said calmer before he smiled.
    Farnham Looked at Tristan, his tear stained cheeks shimmered in the light, his lower lip quivered before he took a deep breath, “Ask Pepin, he took care of the injured.”
    Tristan nodded as he stood up walking over to the small hut where the healer work curing people of disease and selling potions that would heal wounds if they where not severe.

    The door to the small shop was closed as he heard a man scream in agony. His fist pounded on the door, “Pepin are you alright in there?” He shouted hoping that the one person keeping the town alive was not dying on the other side of the door.
    “One Second.” Pepin’s voice rang from the other side of the door as the scream came once more.
    Tristan cringed as the door opened. Pepin stood in bloody white robes; through the crack of the door Tristan saw a man on the bed. The wounds where fierce; they looked as though a butcher had hacked away half of his torso area and his legs too.
    Pepin looked down, “most men looked like this, or with no legs or arms carried by another man.” He looked away, his eyes filled with concern, “I used the best potions on this man, but most of them still die due to infection, it is like there wounds are festering with disease.”
    Tristan frowned, “I plan on entering the Chapel and expelling the beat that has done this.” He looked forward, “I need some of your best potions.”
    Pepin frowned for a second, “I can only give you a few.” He said as he walked into the shop looking around for the potions that Tristan would need. He muttered as he searched the shop. He appeared a few minutes later with three red potions and three yellow ones.
    “The red one is for health, and the yellow one recovers both health and Mana.” Pepin replied as he handed them to him.
    “Many thanks Pepin.” Tristan said as he turned and walked towards the Chapel.
    “Wait Tristan.” A voice rung out.
    Tristan turned to see where it came from, Cain stood next to the well a disturbed look on his aged face.
    “What seems to be the Problem?” Tristan asked as he walked over to the man,
    “It is the water supply, it has been poisoned, or something has contaminated it. The townsmen can not drink it for fear of illness befalling them.” He said as he motioned to the brown contaminated water in the well. “Will you check to see if there is something affecting it while you are in the Chapel?”
    Tristan’s face Darkened, “What ever has befallen the town I will stop it.” He growled as he turned towards the Chapel, thinking that this might be the last time that he looks at the town of Tristrum.