Diablo II

Kurast

The Barrier

Brigit stood at the bow of Meshif's merchant galleon, peering into the thick gray mists that filled Argentek Bay.  The tall, burly merchant captain stood at the wheel himself, carefully navigating through the clinging fog.  At a command from Meshif, the galleon's two wide sails were struck down and oars were dipped into the calm, black waters.  The rhythm of the oars lulled Brigit, but her eyes brightened when she spied the dim lights of Kurast.  The rowing of the oars slowed, Meshif skillfully piloted the wide galleon into an empty berth.  The deck shook slightly when the prow made contact with the reinforced pier, dock hands quickly tossed ropes to the waiting sailors of the galleon, Meshif's ship was secured within moments.

Brigit slipped her backpack over her left shoulder and hefted the Lance of Yaggai.  Captain Meshif left the galleon's wheel and crossed the deck to Brigit.

"Thus ends our crossing of the Twin Seas.  I hope it wasn't too boring for you," smiled Meshif as he crossed his heavily-muscled arms upon his chest.

"A week of sleeping and resting in the sun was exactly what I needed, Meshif.  I'll sail with you any day," grinned Brigit.

"You honor me, Lady," bowed Meshif.  "Good luck on your travels."

"Thank you," replied Brigit with a polite nod.

A gang plank was set from the deck to the pier.  Brigit crossed the plank quickly, then looked over Kurast while Meshif went to collect Deckard Cain.

Kurast was a sharp contrast to Lut Gholein.  Where Lut Gholein was bright and clean, Kurast was draped in shadow and filthy, with garbage and prone bodies strewn everywhere.  Some of the bodies were just drunks sleeping off their binges, others were motionless and gray with death.  The air was foul, reeking of dead fish, tar, and unwashed bodies.  The few lights in Kurast came from the windows of squat hovels or the line of taverns and whore houses that faced the harbor.

"Kurast reflects the Evil nestled at its heart," remarked Deckard Cain as he joined Brigit, his gray cloak wrapped tightly around him, his walking staff secure in his left hand.

"Let's get away from the harbor," suggested Brigit, leading the way across the pier and into the slimy streets of the city proper.

The living quarter was deathly quiet compared to the cacophony of the harbor district.  Most of the houses were dark, an occasional pale face peered from behind a thick drape, then disappeared swiftly.  Brigit kept walking until she found what she wanted, an inn called The Shady Tree.  Opening the front door, Brigit looked over the patrons sitting at several square tables, they remained hunched over their mugs, talking quietly.

"We'll stay here," said Brigit, walking inside The Shady Tree and claiming a table near the counter.

A fat, bearded man with an apron waddled over to Brigit's table.  "Will ye be wanting a room for the night, missy?"

"Two, good man.  Two mugs of your best ale would be appreciated as well."

"I would need to see yer coin first, missy."

Brigit set a single gold piece upon the table.  The fat innkeeper snatched the coin, bit it, then nodded in satisfaction.

"I'll get yer ales now."

Cain sat across from Brigit, keeping hold of his staff.

"Do we have to stay here?  I was hoping we would continue on to Travincal."

"You better get used to this place, Master Cain, you're going to be staying here for awhile."

"Why, for the Light's sake?" demanded Cain sharply.

"It's safer here.  The Temple City is under Mephisto's influence, all of the Zakarum priests are in his thrall."

"How do you know that?"

Brigit lowered her voice to a whisper, "Tyrael told me."

Cain sat back in his chair, overcome with shock, unable to even pick up his mug when the innkeeper brought his ale.

Brigit sampled her mug of ale, she grimaced.  "Definitely not the best I've had."

"The Zakarum, all lost," sighed Cain.

"Not all," murmured a man in dark red robes sporting a long, black beard that hung to his belt.  The stranger sat between Brigit and Cain, setting his own mug on the candle-lit table.

"You are?" inquired Brigit.

"Hralti, a sorcerer like your friend," replied the man, tilting his head towards Cain.

"I am not a sorcerer!  I am a sage!" corrected Cain indignantly.

"Forgive me, I meant no offense.  I overheard part of your discussion, if you seek a true priest of the Zakarum, I know where you may find one."

"Why would you tell us?" countered Brigit distrustfully.

"I will not tell you now, first you must prove yourself by performing a task for me."

"Really?" replied the amazon, arching a golden eyebrow.

"This is not a task for myself, it is for the good of Kurast!  I am the sorcerer who raised the magical barrier protecting Kurast.  Mephisto's evil influence has been spreading for decades, corrupting the animals of the jungle, turning them into savage, cruel devourers of men.  When the tainted beasts began invading the city, I used all of my magic to raise a shield, a barrier to keep the monsters away.  Unfortunately, the barrier is fading, my strength ebbs with every passing day."

"What can I do?" asked Brigit.

"There is a dagger held by a pygmy shaman in a village within the Flayer Jungle.  It is a Skatsimi blade, infused with powerful magics.  It's name is Gidbinn.  The shaman uses it in perverse rituals, taking young girls and using Gidbinn upon them to transform them into Flesh Hunters.  Slay the shaman and recover Gidbinn, I will use it to strengthen the barrier protecting Kurast," swore Hralti.

"If there is a virtuous priest of the Zakarum remaining, he could tell us much about the Temple City," pointed out Cain.

Brigit watched the waiting sorcerer carefully, he seemed to be sincere.

"I will recover Gidbinn for you to aid Kurast, and for an introduction to this Zakarum priest," said Brigit intently.

"Thank you!  Please hurry!  The barrier is almost gone now, it will not last more than a few days at most!"

"I will leave before dawn," promised Brigit.

***

The amazon stood at the edge of Kurast and watched the jungle while she bound her hair above her head within a thick ponytail.  She adjusted the straps of her backpack upon her shoulders, then pulled the Lance of Yaggai out of the soft earth.  She entered the thick jungle foliage, immediately embraced by the jungle's humidity, sweat instantly breaking out over her face.  Vines tugged at Brigit's arms and legs, thick roots tripped her booted feet.  Brigit was glad she chose to wear her leathers, the silver breastplate would have been unbearable, but the chainskirt would have allowed her legs more comfort.  Untying her thick leather tunic between her perspiring breasts to free some of the heat, Brigit advanced deeper into the jungle, slashing at the vines and branches with her Lance.  The day went on forever, Brigit was forced to take several breaks to avoid fainting from the heat, she rationed her water supply, but realized it would never last her all the way back to Kurast.  Wiping sweat from her face and cursing under her breath, Brigit marched on, following the markers that Hralti had pointed out for her.

Brigit stopped when she heard movement to her left.  She levered her Lance with both hands, peering into the jungle's shadows, senses alert.

An arrow slapped into the back of Brigit's right shoulder.  The amazon staggered, dizziness overcoming her.  Brigit grimaced, the arrow was poisoned, she could feel it spreading from her shoulder, a numbing cold that paralyzed her arm. A second arrow buried itself in Brigit's right thigh.  Brigit's leg collapsed underneath her, she fell heavily to the ground, her Lance disappeared into the bushes.

Four girls with corpse-blue skin appeared out of the jungle, surrounding Brigit, leveling loaded bows down at her.

"The poison has done its work," observed one of the girls, a tall, raven-haired girl with dead, black eyes.  

Two of the Flesh Hunters shouldered their bows and reached down towards Brigit, taking her weapons, binding her wrists behind her back securely with leather cord.  After Brigit's ankles were tied, the Flesh Hunters picked up the paralyzed woman easily and followed their raven leader into the dark depths of the Flayer Jungle.

***

When Brigit awoke, she was in a tiny hut that reeked of sweat and a strong, musky perfume.  Bright, melting candles surrounded Brigit, she noticed that she was outstretched upon a mat of large, green leaves, naked and unbound.  Brigit tried to move, tried to sit up, but she could not, the poison still flowed within her veins, paralyzing her bare limbs.

The door to the stifling hut opened and three short, dark-skinned men dressed in loincloths and fierce, painted masks encircled Brigit, looking down at her.  The man with the most ornate necklaces upon his bare chest retrieved three small pots from the floor, handing one to each of his companions.  They opened the pots, chanting in a strange, musical language that Brigit could not understand.  The three men knelt on the ground and dipped their hands into their pots before stretching out their palms and caressing Brigit's body.  The men's hands were covered in oil, they took their time covering Brigit with it, chanting without pause, the oil slick and warm against the woman's brown skin.

Brigit closed her eyes, not wanting to admit how good it felt as the men applied the oil everywhere, her breasts, her pussy, her firm buttocks.

When the men were done, they stood up and left the hot dwelling.  They returned quickly with a litter which they set upon the ground next to Brigit.  The amazon woman was gently picked up and set upon the litter.  The masked men raised her up and carried her out of the hut.  Chanting washed over Brigit, she was carried into the middle of a village, a village full of short, dark-skinned men and women, with the taller Flesh Hunters standing behind the tribesmen as motionless as statues. Brigit was carried around the entire village clearing, torches crackled from tall poles, the air was thick with smoke and a cloy vapor that aroused Brigit, made her sex moist and hot.

The chanting, jumping tribesmen were working into a frenzy.  The Flesh Hunters were lowered onto their backs, masked men straddled the girls' crotches and began humping wildly between their milky blue legs.

Brigit was carried around the village again, the chanting grew louder, small, dark hands reached up to stroke Brigit's legs and arms.  Brigit tossed her head from side to side, her unbound, golden hair clung to her face and shoulders.  When Brigit looked at the center of the village clearing, she saw another masked man dancing around a thick, wooden pole.  The small, dark man wore a skirt of green leaves and a colored mask larger than anyone else's.  Brigit did her best to clear the drugged haze that filled her mind, she focused on the knife that the shaman brandished high above his head, a beautiful, ornately engraved dagger that glowed with a warm, blue light.

As Brigit's bearers carried her to the pole and the waiting shaman, the amazon tried to move her arms and legs.  The woman's bare limbs trembled, but no more.

The bearers lowered the litter to the ground.  Brigit was lifted to her feet and set against the tall pole.  Thick vines were wrapped around Brigit's calves, thighs, hips, and arms, binding her to the pole.  The shaman raised a wooden bowl filled with smoking herbs.  He danced around Brigit, waving the bowl around her, cloaking her in the bowl's fumes.  Brigit coughed, she grew dizzy again, her head swayed from side to side, her pussy shivered and oozed with honey.  The chanting reverberated in Brigit's head, the tribesmen's pounding feet thundered like drums, the torches flared like bright suns.  The shaman lowered his bowl and picked up Gidbinn, the dagger burned like an azure torch, the blade warmed Brigit's thighs when the shaman caressed her skin with it.  The chanting roared around Brigit, she swayed within her bonds, moaning softly, her cunt growing wetter when the shaman rubbed Gidbinn against her labia.  He scratched Brigit's bare belly with Gidbinn's tip, then swiftly uttered an invocation, grasping the dagger with both hands, ready to plunge the knife into the naked woman's body.

A war arrow blossomed in the shaman's neck.  The short priest stumbled, red blood squirting from his severed neck artery. When the shaman fell, the tribesmen howled with despair.  A rain of arrows fell amidst the mourning pygmies, dead bodies soon littered the village clearing.  The surviving tribesmen fled into the jungle, exclaiming in their strange tongue.  When the village was empty, a squad of women dressed in chainmail and armed with swords and bows spilled into the clearing, checking to make sure the fallen were dead.

A woman warrior with shoulder length black hair motioned for several warriors to set a perimeter before she approached the bound amazon.  The warrior drew a knife from her belt and cut away the vines binding Brigit to the pole.  She carefully lowered Brigit to the ground, then pried open a potion and gently poured it into Brigit's mouth, massaging her throat so that Brigit could swallow it easier.

Brigit coughed violently, blinking her eyes to clear her fuzzy vision.

"Welcome back, you almost became a Flesh Hunter," smiled the warrior woman as she helped Brigit sit up.

"Who are you?"

"Asheara, captain of the Iron Wolves mercenary company, at your service," replied the woman, patting Brigit's shoulder. "Lucky for you we were on patrol in the Flayer Jungle today." 

"My thanks," smiled Brigit, nodding in gratitude when Asheara draped a green cloak over her naked body.

"Why were you in the Flayer Jungle?  It isn't a safe place, which isn't to say that Kurast is any safer."

"I need this," answered Brigit, reaching out to take Gidbinn from where it lay near the shaman's dead hand.

"A nice knife, but not worth dying for," remarked Asheara.

"I have to get this back to Kurast, I made a promise."

"We can escort you back, I'd like to hear more about this."

"I'll tell you over a mug of ale," grinned Brigit.

"You have a deal," laughed Asheara.

***

Hralti raised Gidbinn's blade and sliced his own left wrist.  He let his blood drip to the ground, chanting an ancient Skatsimi spell.  Runes came to life upon the ground, they spread away from Hralti, forming an arc before the sorcerer, flowing around the perimeter of the entire city, a shield to keep the monsters away.

Hralti stumbled and fell backward.  Asheara caught the limp wizard, holding him upright until he could stand on his own.

"Kurast..is safe," wheezed the sorcerer.

"For now," frowned Asheara.  "We need to attack the source of the jungle's taint!"

"The source is within the Temple City of Travincal," said Brigit.

"It will be difficult to get in, the High Council wards Travincal like a fortress," remarked Asheara, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"The corrupted Zakarum are not your chief concern.  You must first assemble the pieces of Khalim's Will, the only weapon capable of breaking Mephisto's dark hold upon the priesthood."

Brigit, Asheara, Cain, and Hralti spun to face the new speaker.  A purple-robed man wearing a heavy cowl walked toward them.  He stopped and pulled his hood away, revealing a bald scalp and a creased, care-worn face.

"I told the priest about you when you left to retrieve Gidbinn.  You stand in the presence of the last virtuous priest of the Zakarum," introduced Hralti respectfully.

"I am Ormus," nodded the bald priest simply.  "What poor knowledge I have is yours."

*****