How Diablo III could have started. (I)

Lore and Story
*spoilers ahead!*

A few quick notes before I begin the story: it may be long, it may be short, and it may be in parts; I'm writing this as I go. I haven't read Diablo's literature. Yet. But I think we can mostly agree that the story was fairly ill-entertaining and the dialogue was iffy, at best. I got bored and decided to write this in a way that wouldn't take up pages of literally chapters of fanfiction. If you have CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I appreciate any of it. Questions and answers are very much welcome.

So in finishing, this is simply the first 5-10 minutes of gameplay. But it assumes that....


Most FMVs didn't happen before the Diablo III game takes place. Which means the first time you create a character, Tyrael didn't fall and was NOT given a FACE.


His name was... What.. was his name?

It was a dream, a fantasy, ending in despair; sometimes, it was a nightmare, full of terror and anguish, awaiting a time of peaceful revelation.

I've dreamed of this before... I've dreamed of him before. The dream that is the same, but is never the same... His name... What was his name?


He woke to the sight of an old, fragile man at his bedside.

"You've come to, stranger. Leah told me you were mumbling in your sleep."

The stranger sat up slightly against the bedframe; the old man placed his spotted, infirm hand on his shoulder.

"Rumford. What of Rumford?" the stranger asked.

"He is alive, and so are the others, thanks to you. You remember his name. No signs of amnesia."

The stranger clutched his ribs after sitting up further.

The old man retrieved the stranger's hands from the bandaged rib cage.

"Easy, stranger. Leah will be in shortly." The old man stood from the bed. "You are mortal; of blood and flesh."

The stranger looked down at himself; the bandages which hugged both bone and muscle were stained and spotted with crimson.

The old man sat at a desk across from the room. Piles of books littered the shelves and tongues of loose pages stuck out at the stranger. Leah had the tray ready; cooked eggs and bread and water. She softly nudged the door open with her foot, hardly causing reason for disturbance.


The old man motioned for the girl to proceed. "Come in, Leah. It's alright." The old man turned away from his chair and text and candlelight.

Leah entered and set the tray at the stranger's bedside.

"I need a few more moments, dear." As the old man nodded, Leah bowed her head and ducked out of the room from behind the door.

"I'm sorry. My name is Deckard. And Leah is my niece. But what about you?"

The stranger, having taken a portion of his eggs already and a sip of water, set his plate down.


Deckard returned to his book and dabbled the end of his quill into the ink jar before asking, "What do you remember?"

What I remember...? The screams and the dead. The evil and Rumford at the gates...but, something else... Something...Someone...


I know it was short but I hope it wasn't boring for the few minutes. I'd prefer not to write a whole bunch if people don't like the simple style.
Thank you for reading!
Very cool, a creative one, but unfortunately you can't change the story like you can change the gameplay.

Now the story development guys don't want to bother themselves by creating a new way to make the story much amazing. The story of the propechy is so cliche and predictable, and they made it even worse by leaving the opportunities to tell it more creatively. Good job Kuverus!
Thank you. And I absolutely understand about the storyline and certain restrictions. Again, I haven't read the literature between Diablo II (which I played most) and Diablo III. I would like to do more writing/fanfiction, I just don't want to bore people.

So consider this a slight entry into the world of Sanctuary. =) Thank you for your kind comments ishanda.
Enjoyed the italics bit, where whomever the wounded man is was speaking to themselves. Whole "waking up in bed, wounded with bad memories of past, etc." is cliche, certainly better than Metzen's dialogue of "I am the lord of TEAR-ROAR"

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