derrick_mace

Diablo is (to say the least) an intriguing world of dark fantasy. Heaven and Hell wage epic wars, and humanity are between demons and angels in the world of Sanctuary. I recently took up an interest in Demonsbane, a book written by Robert Marks. The book tells the story of Siggard, a warrior who barely survived a war against demonic forces. This is the first appearance of the archangel Tyreal, who is a benevolent angel who leads the fight of humankind against demons.

However, despite how the story is interesting, Richard A. Knaak took up the job to write the Sin War Trilogy. Among many Blizzard lore fans, Richard A. Knaak is considered a literacy nightmare that destroys the environment of said story. A small example is a character in “War of the Ancients Trilogy”, Rhonin, who practically teaches a major lore character arcane magic, taps into the Well of Eternity and yet doesn’t need it that much (despite Arcane power in post War of the Ancients is leaked power of the Well of Eternity), and outsmarts and out-spells Eradar sorcerers, the masters of magic in the universe. He then gets the seat of Dalaran, as the leader of the Kirin Tor, a society of mages who supposedly hated him, but then again, that was just for sympathy purposes.

We begin.
                                                                   Chapter 1:

“The souls of most of my family are beyond the Prophet’s gathering, brother! They died nearly ten years ago, all to plague!”

“I shall s-say a prayer for…for them—”

His words only served to infuriate Uldyssian, who had himself prayed for his parents, his elder brother, and his two sisters constantly over the months through which they had suffered. Day and night—often with no sleep in between—he had first prayed to whatever power watched over them that they recover, then, when that no longer seemed a hope, that their deaths would be swift and painless.

And that prayer, too, had gone unanswered. Uldyssian, distraught and helpless, had watched as, one by one, they died in anguish. Only he and his youngest brother, Mendeln, had survived to bury the rest.

Which also shows a weak personality which leans to blaming others for one’s misfortunes, which is also a common trait with most Knaak characters.

A frustrated scowl still on his face, he let the figure in his grip drop in an undignified heap on the floor.

"I am Uldyssian the Foo. Your prayers are useless. Prepare to be undignified."
This scene also establishes that Uldyssian is a REGENADE, MAVRICK, ROGUE, possibly HERETIC, an act which also tries to force sympathy into a reader’s throat.

Still, the presence of the Cathedral’s acolyte in Seram grated on his heart. Uldyssian was now a man who only believed in what his eyes showed him and what his hands could touch. He could see the changes in the sky and so tell when he needed to rush his work in the field or whether time enough remained to complete his task at a more moderate pace. The crops his work brought forth from the soil fed him and others. These were things he could trust, not the muttered praying of clerics and missionaries that had done nothing for his family but give them false hope.

While this is a somewhat logical outcome, one cannot help think of how similar this philosophy is to Christopher Paolini’s execution of Elven beliefs, and I wonder if Knaak is an agonist/atheist.

Seram was a village of some two hundred folk, small by many standards, of reasonable size by others. Uldyssian could have paced its length in as many breaths, if that much. His farm lay two miles to the north of Seram. Once a week, Uldyssian went into the village to get what supplies he needed, always allowing himself the short break for food and drink at the tavern. His meal he had eaten and his ale was lost, which left only his tasks to complete before he departed again.

In addition to the tavern, which also acted as an inn, there were only four other buildings of consequence in Seram—the meeting house, the trading station, the village Guard quarters, and the smithy. All shared the same general design as the rest of the structures of Seram, with the roofs pointed and thatched, and the bodies wooden planks over a frame whose base was built of several layers of stone and clay. As was typical in most areas under the influence of Kehjan, the windows of each were arched sharply at the top and always numbered three on a side. In truth, from a distance it was impossible to tell one building from another.

Mud caked his boots as he walked, Seram too provincial to have paved streets or even stone ones. There was a small, dry path to the opposite side from where Uldyssian trod, but at the moment, he had no patience for it and, besides, as a farmer, he was used to being one with the soil.

At the eastern edge of Seram—and thus nearest to Kehjan—stood the trading station. The station was, other than the tavern, the busiest of places in Seram. Here it was that locals brought in their goods to trade for other necessities or to even sell to passing merchants. When there were new items in stock, a blue banner would be raised by the doorway up front, and as he approached, Uldyssian saw Cyrus’s night-tressed daughter, Serenthia, doing just that. Cyrus and his family had run the trading station for four generations and were among the most prominent of families in the village, although they dressed no more fancy than anyone else. The trader did not look down on his customers, who were also, for the most part, his neighbors. Serenthia, for example, was clad in a simple cloth dress of brown, cut modestly at the bodice and whose bottom hem ended just above the ankle. Like most villagers, she wore sensible boots designed for both riding and walking  through the muddy ruts in the main street.

There was that in her tone that all but made the farmer grimace. Serenthia was more than a decade younger than him and he had seen her grow up from a child to a woman. To him, she was nearly one of the sisters that he had lost. However, to her, Uldyssian evidently seemed much more. She had turned down the attentions of younger and more affluent farmers than him, not to mention the flirtations of several visiting merchants. The only other man in whom she showed any interest was Achilios, Uldyssian’s good friend and the best hunter in Seram, but whether that was because of his ties to the farmer, it was difficult to say.

God forbid that people who aren’t farmers actually get worthy roles in “Classic fantasy stories”!

So far, our “Uldyssian” hasn’t shown any worthy qualities for a man, which should be at least present for a character a few moments after presentation. Great stories and films show the character early in times of decision, which establishes character in the best and most efficient way possible. However, who would want characters to think for themselves?! This is heresy!