- The Heroes of Sanctuary
The Heroes of SanctuaryThe Heroes of Sanctuary
With all five classes now unlocked on the "Darkness Falls. Heroes Rise." launch site, we’d like to draw your attention to the short stories we’ve written for each class. While the heroes you play in Diablo III will have their own destinies, as guided by your hand, these rich and intense short stories will help you to understand what it means to be a barbarian, demon hunter, monk, witch doctor, and wizard.
It was a man. A giant of a man who towered over even these hulking things. A man who stood dripping in hot blood that steamed in the cold morning air. He wore a bearskin cloak across mountainous shoulders, and his legs were girded with piecemeal armor of mismatched plate and mail. Heavy oxhide boots. Chest bare and scarred. Thick hands, knotted and rough, were wound around the haft of a terrible weapon that matched his size. It was easily three times the length of Aron's axe, forged of angry black metal and notched along both sides of its uneven blade. It was a coarse and brutal tool of death, held aloft as though it were part of the man's own arm.
This could only be a barbarian.
There was a barely discernible, persistent hum. The only signs of life came from Josen and two other hunters, one searching the derelict structures, another standing near a rundown storehouse. Whatever had happened here, they were too late to do anything about it. Now it was a matter of looking for survivors. That was, after all, the second most important thing her people did: feed and shelter those left homeless in the aftermath of unthinkable catastrophe. Guide them, encourage them, heal them, educate and train them... to do the most important thing, should they so choose: become a demon hunter and annihilate the hellspawn responsible for evils like this.
"The Patriarchs ask a hard task of you, one reserved only for the most devout of our order," the Unyielding had continued. He stared at Zhota for a moment, furrowing his brow. "You have attained the rank of monk, but there are times when I wonder if you are truly ready. There are times when I think you are still that fool boy who first came to the monastery. More beast than man, really... a wild thing with eyes clouded by emotion and intuition and all those other fleeting feelings that change on a whim just as swiftly as the winds. Are you that boy, or are you a monk?"
Each season, after the Igani, the emptied husks of tributes were carefully sewn together in the shapes of dogs, their bodies filled with herbal composts and dried leaves. A boiled skull of a beast was used as the head, attached just above a mane of feathers. With the blessing of the spirits, these zombified beings served as loyal minions at a witch doctor's beck and call.
That was our first meeting, and I still remember it vividly. Isendra embraced her role in teaching Li-Ming. She became a mentor to the girl, and Li-Ming gained a deep respect for the sorceress. They were more alike than Isendra or I had suspected. But Li-Ming quickly exhausted the extent of Isendra's knowledge. Their relationship changed, and Li-Ming began to treat the sorceress as an equal rather than a teacher. Isendra was changing too, and that worried me as well. She was far too permissive with Li-Ming's behavior. With nothing to learn, Li-Ming followed the vein of curiosity that had always driven her, and that was when the trouble started.
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