Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don't sue.
Authors note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive).
So, here it goes…
Harbinger of Doom
He rode through the gates of the village for the first time in more than a decade. It seemed smaller than he remembered it, but at the same time emptier and more desolate. There weren't many people out on the streets, and the few that were out didn't seem to notice the stranger on the horse. "Well, the weather is cold enough to make anyone want to stay in front of a warm fireplace," he thought to himself.
He was pleased to realize that no one appeared to recognize him; most of the people did not notice him at all.
Derrim caught a closer look of some of their faces and was shocked to see how they looked so… disillusioned. He saw marks of inhumane pain and suffering on their faces, and some of them seemed to have aged many years in advance.