The Third

Everett Call was penitent. He knew what he had done was wrong, and even if his thoughts and actions HAD been influenced by the nether-worldly beings of this land, he was still to pay for them. He was a responsible man, if nothing else.

So when he saw the Amazon girl walking slowly towards him within the deepest parts of the Earth, beneath the cursed town of Tristram, he was not shocked to see her with sword in hand.

He was a bit worried about the burning red glow emanating from the red gem in her forehead, which seemed to be reflected in her eyes. No longer was her almost trademark blue horn at the center of her brow, but instead, the red stone which had haunted his dreams and nightmares. His hands started to twitch as he contemplated running in abject terror, but then he realized what was coming he deserved. He had aided the witch, now he would pay.

She came closer. The glow no longer seemed to be just reflected in her eyes, but also seemed to radiate from them. Her sword, too, had an unnatural red glimmer to it that was unholy as well as terrifying.

It flashed as she closed the distance to the mageling, and swept down to slice across the young man's stomach. His eyes shot open in shock, and he immediately doubled over into a fetal position. The bastard sword swept up once more for a killing blow, but was interrupted by the presence of someone else in the room.

In a sick, twisted irony most definitely affected by this Hell, the two people had formally met this way so long ago. DiStephano stood across the chamber from Erim, his battle-axe held firmly in both hands. The two former companions stared at one another for a short time, until the tension was disturbed by Call crashing flat on his face, quickly dying.

The Amazon pulled out a healing scroll from the section of her belt where she generally kept them, and tossed it to the opposite side of the room. She then turned completely around, and walked out, steadily, but not quite running.

The barbarian had two choices. Go after her, or save the traitor mage.

His barbaric instincts did not involve the mage's healing. They told him to let the traitor die his slow death, and to confront the Amazon. She was powerful, and needed to be put down.

He quickly grabbed the healing scroll, and applied its healing properties to the grateful mage. But as he sat there, with the pale man's head in his lap, waiting for him to regain consciousness, he couldn't help but wonder why Erim had done such a thing. So rash. So not like her. He was surprised she did not shove her blade through BOTH of their heads. Instead, she had allowed the mage a chance to live. How different than anything she had ever done.

He also wondered why he cared.

Erim Lera's Reincarnation, the Second

She was within a convoluted dimension of ethereal chaos. Indescribable objects drifted around her floating form every minute or so. Actually, she couldn't keep track of time anymore. Every time she started counting, something weird would happen. Such as a sun rising and falling around her. Maybe a red moon whizzing by. Whatever it was, it disoriented the mind, and gave an utter despairing ambiance to the place.

*

Erim Lera, or what was once her body, which was once her half-sister Shellandra's body, walked stoically down the middle of the town square of Tristram. The town was asleep for the night, and the doors shut to her. But he, the being who now resided within her, extended his will. Within a matter of moments, several doors opened themselves to him. Sleepy, weary eyed folk, mostly the old or feeble, stepped blindly into the town square, not aware of the devil in their midst.

Erim Lera opened her mouth in a toothy grin, as she began to test the limits of his power.

*

She wasn't sure where she was, but it seemed vaguely familiar to her. The longer she just floated in the chaos, more memories formed in her empty and foggy mind. Names assaulted her. Places. Visions of beautiful days, and gory deaths that somehow brought triumph out in her. She cried in exultation, before realizing these memories were not all hers.

A man, as angry as a human body could contain, yelling at her, calling her a 'bastard' in so many words.

A woman, with beautiful violet lips and eyes, smiling down at her, as she was handed a beautiful great sword, and sent out somewhere.

A moment of immense pleasure, as her and handsome black man, conjugated their love.

Another quick, flashing moment of an ethereal place, and a man, angel perhaps, with beautiful sapphire hair and eyes, and wings of gold, lying dead.

The memories swarmed by her, until finally, she screamed a noiseless scream.

But she remembered who she was now.

Erim Lera. Sister of the Vrin-Latti tribe.

And at this realization, came panic.

And a still-beating heart, somewhere in the distance. Echoing throughout her brain.

Only, she realized where she was. One of the memories she had absorbed let her know of the book by Aophrates, "The Mind Stream". And so, technically, she had no brain any longer. Someone else was in control of her body now.

Somehow, she knew she knew the answers to her questions. But everything was in a jumble. She couldn't set anything straight.

And the heart kept on beating in the distance.

*

Call woke in the dark of night, a cold sweat covering his body. He sat up swiftly, which brought a groan of pain from his stomach, where the bandage was still wrapped. He gingerly placed a hand to the still raw wound, and stood. There was a commotion in the town common. He peered from the window of his room above the Rising Sun, and looked for what was behind the ruckus. And standing amidst it all, was Erim Lera herself, holding high her new bastard sword. Without pause, her eyes shot up to look at the traitorous mage, and grinned. However, Everett Call saw behind that evil grin. He saw the evil seeping out of the woman. He ran back to his bed, and hid under the covers. Something he hadn't done in a decade or two.

*

Somehow, Shellandra had mysteriously appeared before her.

"Sh- Shellandra? Is that you?" Erim was taken aback, but it was like looking into a mirror. The same blue hair, the same violet lips. They even moved similarly.

"Aye good sister Erim. Though not as you'd like me to be. You see, you're body has absorbed much information since you have come back to this place. Including everything I knew about the Mindstream. But your, your mind isn't keeping up. So, subconsciously, you've created me, here, to help you."

"I created you? But you died."

"Yes, and I will remain so for all time, but within the Mindstream, you can, 'create' things out of pure will. During our last 'visit' here, I created a library, full of books. You 'created' that sword to try and kill me. So too did your mind call out for me, 'create' me, to answer your questions."

However, the girl put a hand to her head, and shook it absently, still confused. The elder, Shellandra, grabbed her by the elbow, and 'lead' her to a nearby bench for them to sit on. "See, you're weary, and you made this bench."

Erim's eyes looked down, just now noticing the bench, and pulled back. "It's alright girl. Come, sit, and we'll talk."

*

DiStephano rolled over in his troubled sleep, swinging a muscled arm to thwart off some demon or another. His meaty fist, balled up to do more damage to the demon only he in his slumber could see, crashed through a nearby chair, sending slivers of wood all about. Across the room, Call yelped, and pulled the covers over his head more.

Call peeked out from beneath the linen sheets, expecting Erim to be right in the room with him. And when he saw the room was empty save for him and his barbarian companion, he let out a heavy sigh… which turned into a shudder of terror as the wooden door swung noiselessly open, to reveal the Amazon.

*

Erim sat quietly, listening to all her 'sister' had to tell her. Every few seconds she would interrupt to ask another question. And it would be answered without pause, before continuing. Apparently, whatever else had been inhabiting 'their' body, had taken control when Erim had let her rage and anger go to extreme levels. And for whatever reason, that being had then released Diablo himself from HIS body, and placed it into theirs, also subsequently breaking any barriers preventing him from leaving Hell. He even now rampaged through Tristram, slaying and killing without heed.

Her most prominent question, and the one which brought about the loudest and longest sigh she'd ever heard: "How do I regain control?"

*

Call had run from the beast hunting him, but it was useless. He would be found soon enough. His first instinct had been to run into the deepest and darkest part of Tristram, in hopes of not being found. His instincts sucked.

Everett Call was wearing nothing more than his bandage, and a robe from the tavern, but was knee deep in the hell on earth that was the Church. He hadn't known why to run there, but apparently for whatever reason it was, his gut wanted him dead. The Amazon/Demon trotted behind him about ten feet, not bothering to run him down, but not losing him either.

Finally, he rounded a corner on the fourth floor, the umpteenth corner that level at least, and found himself without pursuer. He waited just a moment to make sure the 'woman' was not behind him, and kept on running. Soon he should be able to find a passageway back to town, he figured.

And then, another corner. And another. They were leading nowhere. Almost as if in circles. And another. Almost as if magically.

Finally, one of the corner's lead somewhere. A dead end. Well not completely dead, as there was a door in the far wall of the small chamber he now found himself in, but closed off certainly.

And crucified to the door, was Horshast 'The Feeble' Saul.

"Master! Master Horshast!"

Call ran over incautiously, and lifted the old man's head. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging, and didn't quite seem to see much any more. His lips were sealed over in flesh, as if he hadn't opened them in years, but they had been profusely cut to keep them scarred over. His voice, when the lips were finally peeled open, cracked and hissed. When it finally came, it was foreboding though.

"Call? Is that you?"

The mageling fell to his knees at the mage's nailed feet, tears streaming down his soot covered face now.

"Call, you must get me out of here! There is great evil afoot, and we need to leave, immediately!" The young man looked up, through his tears, and started letting his pleading master loose.

Gore covered his face instantaneously. A mighty rose red axe-blade protruded from the dying mage's chest. The axe disappeared backward, towards the door, which was immediately blown open. Call was flown backwards several feet, to lie in a heap farther back in the hallway. Horshast, also thrown in the 'explosion', did not get up.

Looking up slowly, Call saw that Erim had found him after all. And she smiled happily as she licked the blood from the mighty red axe's blades.

*

So, all she had to do, was kill Diablo in a one on one fight in the depths of Hell itself. Nothing she hadn't done before. Only now, she had to do it in her mind. She had to 'create' the world that she was from, the very essence of Tristram and the Church's Labyrinth, straight into hell itself. From there, she would fight Diablo, slay him, and be free of his spirit.

Hopefully.

Wouldn't be too hard. Really, how would she lose, if it was all in her mind anyways? She could 'create' the weapons and armor for the job.

She tried simple things first, since her sister had dispersed into thin air a few minutes ago. A tree to begin with, but it had failed miserably. The leaves exploded into flame, and quickly burned the surrounding bark. She was happy to see she could make fire though, being as how bad she was with magic in the 'real' world. So she tried again, with some simple firebolts, which quickly melted into a liquid shape, and rolled out in strange waves. Beautiful, but deadly if they caught you no doubt. After some practice, she was soon able to control the flame much more evenly, even guiding it to separate when about to hit her, or any object. Before long, it was as if of second nature, and she didn't even have to think about it.

Things were moving wonderfully, until the sword appeared. Gray all around, blade hilt and crossbar, it was an
impressive site. Crafted in Hell no doubt, as legend bespoke, it's edges were sharper than any blade made in Grizwold's forges, and stronger than any metal on Earth. Proving once more of it's unearthly origins, were it's dimensions. Not exactly symmetrical, the crafter would've been insane making it. A long jabbed slit ran down the top half of the blade, and several more decorated the sides. Granted, it would cut more, and deeper that way, but it wouldn't be too effective if someone's blade hit the right spot.

There was no doubt in her mind this was the elusive Shadowfang.

The Amazon Returns

The sword swung mightily in her hands. It was a beautiful weapon, and would serve her well. The fact that it was evil incarnate had yet to affect her. Instead, the shear power of the blade held her in thrall. It sliced cleanly through her enemies, leaving nothing behind in its wake. It literally would cut monsters in half, top to bottom, or side to side. Nothing could stand in her way, and that duly affected her. She soon became blinded to what she fought, and instead concentrated on nothing more than swinging the blade as much as she could. Anything aimed at her, was knocked away. Be it arrow, blade, or spell. She was Queen, and would reign as such, for eternity.

Or until that blinding blue blade sank into her spine. Her blindness was quickly dispelled, as a menacing figure approached her. Suddenly reality hit her, as she realized she wasn't in reality. The mind-numbing coldness that permeated her bones due to the Mindstream, surrounded her. And then the demon swung at her.

She quickly dodged the blade, unnaturally quick, as the blade leant her the speed of the wild cats of the Tribelands. But so too was this enemy blade quick. Its dim-blue blade bit into her arm, her swordarm, and almost forced her to drop her own blade. Almost. She could not see it's wielder, but it must've been exceptionally powerful to wield a weapon so well. She leapt out of the way of it's azure swing once again, narrowly avoiding losing her arm altogether.

Finally the cloudy mists around her vision cleared to show her more than just the weapon attacking her. Now, she clearly saw her father leading the assault.

*

Everett Call was not entirely sure of where he was, but there were people all around him. Most seemed unconscious, or were simply not moving. Far off, he thought he spied DiStephano and Iranae hanging off wooden posts. Which he soon came to find out, he too hung from. His arms were slung out above him, on a similar post, perpendicular to his own. His feet were crossed, and apparently tied to the lower end of the stake.

The last thing he had remembered, his master had been slain by the Amazon, Erim Lera, and he was lying unconscious in the halls of the Church. Now, he was a prisoner, in a pitch-black limbo, by an unnamed enemy. Though his own traitorous mind suspected Erim once again. Then, silvery blue lights started flying around all the people who had been captured, illuminating their bloody faces.

It was then that Call realized their unconsciousness was permanent.

*

He had the most striking blue hair she had ever seen. And those eyes. Those clear, crystalline blue eyes. It melted her heart, though her eyes had been much like them not so long ago. The glowing blue of his sword, only more illuminated these beautiful features. It was then she remembered he was trying to kill her. Her own gray blade was up to meet his swing, before she realized he was not attacking.

Through gritted teeth, she asks, "Who are you?"

"You know fully well who I am."

"Ok then, what're you doing here? I didn't 'create' you."

"No, you're completely right. But I'm more than you. And you're also forgetting, you're not the only one controlling this body."

"You? Was it you who-"

"No, he's even more than I. All I'm saying is, it's not hard to enter someone's mind, when you are what I am."

"Well than, what ARE you?"

"An incubus. The male equivalent of the succubus. Only we're a little bit more… reserved. Where they'll slay you any way possible, my kind will only kill you while you sleep. Which you're doing at this very moment, technically."

"So you're here to kill me? Wonderful. Though don't think I'll go without a fight."

"I am not going to kill you."

"Got that right."

"I meant, I'm not even going to try. Instead, I want to help you."

"With what?"

"Well for one, how about that?" The demon-man pointed his sword to hers, and what it had become.

Erim's eyes looked down to Shadowfang, and saw that it was now a deep blue color not unlike her hair, but had a sicker, more revolting hue to it. And unnatural, evil color. Long wisps of the color had started to fly off, and stick to Erim's arms and legs. She saw that this was not a current thing, but instead, that the blade had been controlling her for some time. And finally, the darkest of the wisps, was revealed to lead right to her head.

The sword made a hollow banging as she tossed it to the ground. The wisps instantaneously dispersed, and she was left exhausted from the experience.

"That is a mighty impressive blade." She conceded.

"Aye, evil as could be as well."

Just then, his own sword was tossed to the ground, and he grabbed her old one. Once more she saw the blue-black wisps explode outward from the blade, to attach solely to his forehead.

"My daughter, you must leave this body once and for all. I have given you countless ways to do this, but you continue to ignore them. Therefore, I shall have to force you to leave." Soc held the blade in a formal greeting from one warrior to another, before swinging it too quickly at her chest.

*

The crucifixion started at Dawn, and by Twilight, only a handful were left. He was happy with the outcome, and was ready and willing to wait for the next rising of the sun for the rest of them.

That was, He was ready and willing to wait, until He realized something was wrong. Someone, or something, was trying to ruin His fun. And this He could not have.

He lit the closest torch, and moved towards the silver-haired girl.

*

Erim had leapt out of the way of her father's swing, but knew she wouldn't be able to last much longer. The sword had truly drained her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked in shuddering tones.

"I told you. Someone else wants this body permanently, and you're in their way."

"Who? Who is so important you must kill your own daughter?"

The sword seemed to strike even harder at those words, and Erim knew she'd struck a sour chord. She darted backwards, deeper into the darkness surrounding her, and away from the sword-wielding demon. But she had no where to go.

*

Iranae's eyes flickered open to see nothing but enveloping darkness around her, just as her stake was set to flames. She hadn't been even been able to completely absorb where she was, before the pain set in. A scream erupted from her throat, and someone nearby jerked awake. DiStephano found himself bound as the others did, and tried to break free from his stake, but could not. Ahead of them, stood Erim Lera, who no longer had the symbolic blue horn protruding from her forehead, but several from her shoulders and temples. Her eyes, once a soft and sensual violet color, now registered a sickly blue, that made the soul want to vomit.

*

She finally lost him down one of the hallways, but knew he would find her. Quickly, she made all the panic in her mind disappear, and brought about the process to 'create'.

Before long, Shellandra appeared, just as panicked as Erim.

"He has found us, and the blade. Then it is too late. You see, this is why I set out to find the sword and destroy it."

"But Shellandra, I tried. And is this not all just part of my subconscious anyways?"

"Some, yes. But the incubus is more powerful than that. And he can take the blade with him, real or not."

"Well then how do I stop him?"

"I- I don't know." And as if to further prove his immortality, the man came rushing around the corner, blade swinging. The vision of Erim's sister didn't last too long, before it dispersed into puffs of colored smoke. Only Erim and Soc were left now.

"Soc, if that is you're real name, don't think I won't hurt you. You forget who I am."

"That's pretty interesting girl. That's the exact same thing that you're aunt said. And you're mother."

Something snapped then. Audibly. They were inside Erim's mind after all. A mighty dual-bladed axe took shape in her clenched fists, and she started swinging at the man.

"Struck a chord did I? Well wait 'til you hear this one. You're beloved 'sister' is now the Queen of the Vrin-Latti as well. I'm sure she'll take special pleasure to your return. In pieces!" the man swung his demonblade once more, completely intent on slaying the girl-warrior. But she would have none of it. Her mighty axe, named the Warbringer by Starlet herself, was there in the sword's way, ready to block it's slash.

But as happened to quite a few things in this not-entirely-corporeal land, it dispersed when the gray blade struck it. And still the blade kept on it's path, digging deeply into the girl's armored thigh. She fell back, in pain, with a slight yelling escaping her lips. Immediately she tried to get back on her feet, but could not. Instead, she flipped over onto her stomach, and started pulling herself away from him.

*

DiStephano struggled against his bonds, knowing fully well how futile it was. Why no longer did they feel as if to be nothing but rope, but now pig iron. Before him, the demon who had taken over Erim's body, was busy slicing up the poor form of one of the few remaining townsfolk. Why had he and his companions been allowed to live for so long though?

*

He had hold of her hind leg, and was even then preparing to jab her in the back with his blade. Of course she'd have none of it, if she could have her way that is. Suddenly she was no longer on her stomach, but on her back, with it arching ever so slightly, and her unrestrained leg flying upwards. It smashed across the demon's beautiful face, and sent him reeling. Abruptly, she was free. Her world crumbled around her, and she started to fall through the limbo of her Mind.

But she had grown in her time within Tristram. No longer was she as rash and impatient as before. She would handle this well. As if to emphasize her point, a thick, black marble walkway appeared beneath her feet, and that of her falling father's as well. He grunted in slight pain as his fall was cut short, but was on his feet in no time at all. So too was his sword in the air, and coming towards her. The two, father and sword, moved as if one, and Erim almost lost control of the land around her.

But she would not be so easily overcome. The very land erupted around her, black marble chunks spraying everywhere, as large steel beams jutted from the thin walkway. Soc quickly came to an abrupt halt, and tried to bypass the items.

"Erim, you cannot do this. This is not your body to begin with."

"No father, but it's the body I'll protect to my dying day. My sister, one of you're other abandoned children, she gave me this body in self-sacrifice. Do you think I'd so easily give it up? To the likes of you nonetheless?" The steel beams in front of her erupted as Shadowfang ripped through them easily, the enraged demon behind it.

"Sister?" He growled thorough clenched teeth. "What sister? Not Nimue, she's-"

A booming voice from above interrupted him, "No, THIS sister." Shellandra stood atop a mighty winged stallion as she drove her own blade, a mighty blue one not unlike Soc's own when he appeared, into the man's chest.

"Shellandra!?" Erim was taken aback, and almost lost control of the environment once again. But a reassuring hand on her shoulder brought her back under control. She did not have time to identify the hand though, before it was gone again. Lost amongst the swirling pits of limbo.

Soc meanwhile, was not taking the wound well. He bled from several places, and could barely keep on his knees. "How? How could I have let one… escape."

Erim was utterly confused to the man's words, but she would apparently remain as such, when the eternally vibrating heartbeat around her started booming to unearthly proportions. "Shellandra? I have so many questions, but-"

"I will tell you this much Erim. I never let go. I was with you through it all, and will be, until the day you yourself die, old and happy in a bed somewhere in the Tribelands no doubt. Take care of everyone, but you must leave. If not, the Dark Lord will have this body permanently. Go-"

And she had no choice.

*

The bludgeoning club hammered down onto the already dead townsmen's head, but did not let up until the skull fell right off the spine. A sickening grin split pseudo-Erim's face, as she looked up slowly to the next in line for the club. The mageling.

"You've served me well underling, but the simple fact is, you're too weak willed to be of anymore use to me." The woman's voice was no longer her own, but that of a guttural beast, not quite human, not quite animal.

And the young man, simply looked up from his place tied to the stake, completely unemotional, willing to accept his punishment.

*

The strangers to the town were not surprised to find it empty or devoid of life. Why, several villages along the way had been similarly deserted. But it was this town, that wasn't empty 'enough'. As if the spirits and the souls of the dead were still around. The mage-woman drew back her hood a bit, looking for any sign of life. The radiant knight beside her too brought back a cowl, and revealed his glowing tan face. It contrasted heavily with the dark mists enveloping the town of Tristram. What had happened to everyone? And did they want to know?

*

The demon did not see the ground behind him start to tremble. His massive form, of the fact that he himself constantly shook for unknown reasons, kept him from noticing such a small tremor. But those who did notice it, living or dead, or between, would've noticed the silvery-blue horn now protruding from the ground behind them.

Erim's Birth - The End

His death took but a matter of seconds to occur. The horn shot out from the ground, veritably erupted from its jutted position, to enter the back of the woman-devil's spine.

It did not get back up.

Neither though, did the mageling, who had taken his first whack across the skull from the club. The air was still, as one of the ropes on the nearest stake burst, a golden dagger having severed its bind. The saviors of the few remaining townsfolk, quickly caught up on the current situation. Apparently Diablo had taken control of a native Amazon warrioress, but before it could continue its death spree, something had killed it. The woman-snake, the young paladin man, the barbarian-turned-knight, and the young amazon girl, all slowly approached the scene of the final 'battle'.

Nothing moved in the pitch-blackness that was the inner pits of Hell. No longer did even the floor or walls move. Nothing…

…

…except for the slight heartbeat of the mageling, Everett Call. A slow groan, as he tried to pull himself from beneath the horned and crippled form of Erim Lera. DiStephano and the paladin were the first to aid him to his feet. He wobbled a bit at first, but seemed like he would be all right in the end. Strangely, he could not keep his eyes off of the paladin. Yet whenever he looked directly at him, he could do nothing more than to shield them, as if from some great shining light.

… Nothing continued to move…

Everyone decided it would be best to leave the caverns then, before anything DID decide to move.

… Which something did.

*

Diablo, also known as Metus, also known as The Lord of Terror, among a dozen other pseudonyms, was not one to be defeated so easily. It had taken countless mages and angels before, just to keep Him within the soulstone, which he now possessed as well.

… So why was he finding this so difficult? What stood against him now, that had not then?

As He leapt into the air, completely intent on igniting each of the humans in the labyrinth right then and there,
something inside him moved. Something within his abdomen, that he couldn't contain.

*

Wherever Erim Lera's psyche had been sent to this time didn't seem to matter any longer. The last thing she had known, she was attacking her former body from behind, after her sister had ejected her from the body. Now, all she felt was the erupting pain inside her abdomen, which could mean only one thing.

*

Sha'uri Ssethnithonosshal'ra knew what was to come, and hoped she was not too late. She and Tyr the Paladin had traveled many, many miles to reach this point, and they were nearly late nonetheless. Already the girl was going into labor, but not yet back in possession of her body. She knew if she messed this up, one of the 'higher ups', would have her scales for dinner.

*

As the growing crowd started drawing weapons in anticipation of the attack, and became ready to strike their former friend down forever, an almost unnoticeable change came over the reddened amazon. One of the numerous horns already sprouted from its body, ripped off at the root, and fell to the ground with an ominous crunch. Not to be outdone, another grew in its place, redder, sharper, and more jagged.
.
And then another fell off. With a snarling roar, Diablo seemed to force it to grow back…only to have it fall off again. All over the creature's body, this occurred. Finally, in one swoop, it managed to tear apart rocks and walls all around itself.

No one in the crowd moved, in fear of whatever it was that frightened and pained the Lord of Terror.

*

Lightning flared across her vision, and pain wracked her 'body', but there were only two focuses for her energy. Both her forehead, and her lower stomach. And one way or the other, she was bound to reclaim what was once hers.

*

Call didn't know quite what to do. He had finally come to the realization that the dreams of the archangel Tyrael had been nothing but a front for the Brother of Terror to enslave him. Yet know here stood an angel before him, nodding knowingly in the direction of the blue-haired amazon.

The Horadrim would live yet still.

*

As the horns started bleeding and erupting from Diablo's failing form, and as it started to recover the human shape of Erim Lera once again, none could deny seeing the single blue horn, somewhere beneath the red gem of her forehead, trying to come out.

*

Everything that happened next, happened too fast for actual time to describe. For one thing, the brilliant red stone encrusted in her head was ripped from it's perch, thought to have been by Call since he was later seen with it in HIS forehead.

Also, the bluehorn, which she was once known for, found it's rightful place amongst her brow, and glowed with a mighty light as well, for several days. At least as long as it took for the child to be completely born.

And yes, the girl was born, taking several days to completely make it's way out, in which time Sha'uri properly
reintroduced herself, and made plans to help Erim return back to the Tribelands with the babe.

Also, yes, she returned home. Diablo had been slain, and even left without a body this time. Call was powerful enough to contain him, or so said the witch-snake and the paladin. The other's hoped she was right, and wished the young man good luck in his tasks.

*

It was a parting of sorts. It had all happened so quickly. Erim found herself as a mother, after having trapped her father in a fate worse than hell only days earlier. Not to mention finding out her own mother had been slain in her sleep, back amongst the Vrin-Latti. She made plans to leave for there post haste. But until then, she held her dark-skinned, beautiful baby girl in arms, while watching the sun set over the remains of Tristram.

Iranae would go with her, as she herself had become a General. She would serve beneath Erim as long as she wished, and possibly even the babe too when the day came. She had learned a lot in her time, and had grown as well.

DiStephano though, would not be joining them. It was safe to say things between him and Erim were not well, and never would be. While they once might have been able to be lovers, or even friends, similar problems stopped them from that now. They left each other, without even saying good bye. Though he did leave his 'daughter' a parting gift.

Everett Call and Tyr the paladin left together, for the far distant East. There, they planned on starting up a new league of Horadrim, to take up the former calling of the group, and make sure that the Three Brothers never set foot upon the Mortal lands again. Already, they had one person willing to join them in such endeavors. Luibhmac, a former Advocate of Lazarus', and one time companion of Call's, was one of the last survivors of Tristram. He made sure that he would not let this happen again, elsewhere in the world.

Finally, all that stood within the burnt out town, was the snake-woman herself. The Amazons waited off a bit, to
prepare for their journey, but she was not yet finished. She slithered her way through the burnt out town, until she found herself before the pits of Hell. There stood the woman she sought. With her golden bow slung across one shoulder, and brilliant red hair across the other, she was the very picture of the warrior-woman. And so she was, since she had crafted the picture herself. Starlet was an impressive Angel, and not one to leave onlookers without intimidation. But Sha'uri had met her before, and was not worried.

"Shall we return then, to the Tribelands?" the sorceress asked, while pulling her cowl above her head. It was getting cold in this part of the world.

"I suppose we shall Snakewoman. Let me assume a more fitting form though." For a brief moment, the 'goddess' looked like Orla of the Vrin-Latti, Erim's aunt. She shook her head though, and took on the more impressive form of the former Queen of Westmarch, Shellandra. Once more a shaking head though, and she wore the form of a fallen one. A fallen one who had one of his arms, a bit longer than the other. In a perfect voice, completely devoid of any of the creature's normal chittering, it continued, "Let us go then."
 

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