Tearlach (Chapter 19) - Revision history

Onderduiker: Created redirect after moving content to Tearlach (Act III) page

2017-02-12T20:07:56Z

Created redirect after moving content to Tearlach (Act III) page

Onderduiker: Created page with "{{Tearlach nav}} According to the old man, who spent a lot of time in Kurast many years ago, the city was built in layers, each built around the previous one. Originally, the..."

2012-09-02T15:32:15Z

Created page with "{{Tearlach nav}} According to the old man, who spent a lot of time in Kurast many years ago, the city was built in layers, each built around the previous one. Originally, the..."

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{{Tearlach nav}}
According to the old man, who spent a lot of time in Kurast many years ago, the city was built in layers, each built around the previous one. Originally, there was just a little town called Travincal, built on an island in the middle of a lake. When the place became the holy city of Zakarum, all the brainwashed zealots wanted to live there. They called themselves the Hand of Zakarum, and built houses on the shore and a wall to protect themselves and their temples. As Zakarum's influence grew, more brainwashed zealots came; they lived outside the wall, but soon built another around themselves. The final result was a sprawling mess with rings and rings of walls, manned by legions of paranoid fanatics who would sacrifice anything to protect their holy city. In the past, when they was prosperous and the demon's influence was not so obvious, Kurast had seemed impregnable.

Now, the hands of Zakarum were starved and naked, with nowhere near the numbers they'd need to man even one wall. No one had ever invaded, so all the wealth the church spent centuries accumulating was still there, ripe for plundering. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to slaughter the minions of the church and loot their holy temples, but Tearlach was not easily embarrassed. It was clear to him that he was doing nothing but living up to his destiny, wiping away the old powers of the world in preparation for the establishment of his kingdom. He was killing demons too, which made it even better. And at least one of the Prime Evils was in here, somewhere. Diablo and Baal escaped him in the desert, but he was not about to let that happen again.

The Zakarumites dug moats (or maybe canals) around their inner walls, but also built bridges and conveniently left the gates open. Tearlach wouldn't even have to get his feet wet. It was strange that the Zakarumites left the gates open. Why would Mephisto leave his city open and exposed like that? If he's risen to leader of all demonkind, he can't be a complete fool. On the other hand, Tearlach thought as he chopped his way through yet another crop of walking trees, maybe he should count it as a blessing. It's not every day that a warrior can rely on his enemy to behave like a fool.

The next layer of city looked like a big marketplace, with open areas and lots of little stalls where merchants used to ply their trade. The Zakarumites were out in force here, along with priests who could heal their followers or summon up lightning. When one of the Paladins was too badly wounded, he (or sometimes she) ran back to the priest for healing, before returning to the fray. Tearlach quickly realized that could prove more annoying than raising them from the dead, as they would heal anything -- their followers, the walking trees, even the swarms of jungle mosquitoes that plagued the place. A quick leap and strike took care of the priests, though; like other spell-slingers, they fold quickly once you get close.

Looting the merchant's stalls was highly profitable, there was a lot of valuable junk there. This had been a rich city, once, and all the good stuff had been left lying on the ground after Mephisto took over. There were also two pyramids, with temples on top. In the first ruined temple, Tearlach found huge swarms of monsters: giant spiders, fire-slinging vampires, some Wendigo, and an all-female band of Zakarumites. They were more than three-quarters naked, which wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't even more physically warped than the corrupted Rogues. You'd think that with that many demons guarding a place, there'd be something worth guarding there, but all he found was a stupid little black book. He couldn't even read it.

Back in the marketplace, Tearlach continued through hordes of enemies. His concentration was supreme, but when he met a cloud of bugs enchanted to teleport, and the little bastards wouldn't stop teleporting, he finally lost his temper. He didn't care if they hurt, he didn't care about anything, euphoria flooded his brain and he didn't feel pain and RAAAGH!! STUPID BUGS DIE DIE DIE DIE BITE RIP TEAR CRUSH AAAAAHH I COULD EAT A TREE!!!!! When the fit passed, he looked around at the corpses of his enemies. He felt sick. He felt great. There were splinters stuck between his teeth, but this did not alarm him nearly as much as it should have. The greatest gift of the Ancients, the inner fire of the berserk, had been given to him. Nothing could stop him now.

While clearing the marketplace, the fit came over him many more times. Blinded to pain, his armor repair bills skyrocketed; the smith wondered how he could be so happy while his armor looked like he was getting hacked to pieces every time he went out. As he got used to the fire coursing through his muscles, he found a loud war cry was enough to stun his foes, before he hacked them to bits. Wood and bone splintered like nothing now, he didn't notice how much his enemies hurt him until after the battle was over. In his saner moments, he realized that this was not entirely a good thing. Thinking in the long term, he had to keep himself whole and healthy, but when the ecstasy of combat filled him, none of that mattered. He did start picking up potions, though.

A square hole in the ground of the marketplace led into the city sewers. Water-filled tunnels branched out to every part of the city but the innermost regions. Apparently they still throw wastes into the lake the old-fashioned way up there. Like every other cave in this demon-haunted world, the place was lousy with demon-spawn, mostly undead: drowned zombies, skeletons, even mummies, both little ones and those obnoxious big ones. They must use a lot of preservatives to keep themselves fresh in this watery climate.

Of course, what part of Kurast would be Kurast without Flayers? Tearlach was thoroughly sick of the little bastards, and the sewers made it worse -- they were all undead, the kind that won't die peacefully. After an extremely unpleasant encounter with a stronger-than-average Flayer skeleton while in a berserk fit, Tearlach felt woozy enough to go back to merely hacking the little bastards up from behind his shield. Even the gifts of the ancestors should not be over-used. Damn, the thing left teeth embedded in his codpiece. Can't allow things like *that* to happen.

The deepest depths of the sewers hid a trap door, which Tearlach smashed through with his axe. Then he noticed the lever which opened it. Oh well, he could always use more practice with his weapon of choice. In a pit full of spitting water snakes, he found a dozen or so large chests full of treasure, and a well-preserved human heart. You don't often find well-preserved organs floating in slimy water, particularly in Kurast; this had to be another saintly relic. Let's see, that's an eye, a brain, and a heart. What comes next, his manhood?

← Older revision		Revision as of 20:07, 12 February 2017
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−	{{Tearlach ~~nav}}~~	+	#REDIRECT [[Tearlach (Act III)#Chapter 19]]
−	According to the old man, who spent a lot of time in Kurast many years ago, the city was built in layers, each built around the previous one. Originally, there was just a little town called Travincal, built on an island in the middle of a lake. When the place became the holy city of Zakarum, all the brainwashed zealots wanted to live there. They called themselves the Hand of Zakarum, and built houses on the shore and a wall to protect themselves and their temples. As Zakarum's influence grew, more brainwashed zealots came; they lived outside the wall, but soon built another around themselves. The final result was a sprawling mess with rings and rings of walls, manned by legions of paranoid fanatics who would sacrifice anything to protect their holy city. In the past, when they was prosperous and the demon's influence was not so obvious, Kurast had seemed impregnable.
−
−	Now, the hands of Zakarum were starved and naked, with nowhere near the numbers they'd need to man even one wall. No one had ever invaded, so all the wealth the church spent centuries accumulating was still there, ripe for plundering. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to slaughter the minions of the church and loot their holy temples, but Tearlach was not easily embarrassed. It was clear to him that he was doing nothing but living up to his destiny, wiping away the old powers of the world in preparation for the establishment of his kingdom. He was killing demons too, which made it even better. And at least one of the Prime Evils was in here, somewhere. Diablo and Baal escaped him in the desert, but he was not about to let that happen again.
−
−	The Zakarumites dug moats (or maybe canals) around their inner walls, but also built bridges and conveniently left the gates open. Tearlach wouldn't even have to get his feet wet. It was strange that the Zakarumites left the gates open. Why would Mephisto leave his city open and exposed like that? If he's risen to leader of all demonkind, he can't be a complete fool. On the other hand, Tearlach thought as he chopped his way through yet another crop of walking trees, maybe he should count it as a blessing. It's not every day that a warrior can rely on his enemy to behave like a fool.
−
−	The next layer of city looked like a big marketplace, with open areas and lots of little stalls where merchants used to ply their trade. The Zakarumites were out in force here, along with priests who could heal their followers or summon up lightning. When one of the Paladins was too badly wounded, he (~~or sometimes she~~) ran back to the priest for healing, before returning to the fray. Tearlach quickly realized that could prove more annoying than raising them from the dead, as they would heal anything -- their followers, the walking trees, even the swarms of jungle mosquitoes that plagued the place. A quick leap and strike took care of the priests, though; like other spell-slingers, they fold quickly once you get close.
−
−	Looting the merchant's stalls was highly profitable, there was a lot of valuable junk there. This had been a rich city, once, and all the good stuff had been left lying on the ground after Mephisto took over. There were also two pyramids, with temples on top. In the first ruined temple, Tearlach found huge swarms of monsters: giant spiders, fire-slinging vampires, some Wendigo, and an all-female band of Zakarumites. They were more than three-quarters naked, which wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't even more physically warped than the corrupted Rogues. You'd think that with that many demons guarding a place, there'd be something worth guarding there, but all he found was a stupid little black book. He couldn't even read it.
−
−	Back in the marketplace, Tearlach continued through hordes of enemies. His concentration was supreme, but when he met a cloud of bugs enchanted to teleport, and the little bastards wouldn't stop teleporting, he finally lost his temper. He didn't care if they hurt, he didn't care about anything, euphoria flooded his brain and he didn't feel pain and RAAAGH!! STUPID BUGS DIE DIE DIE DIE BITE RIP TEAR CRUSH AAAAAHH I COULD EAT A TREE!!!!! When the fit passed, he looked around at the corpses of his enemies. He felt sick. He felt great. There were splinters stuck between his teeth, but this did not alarm him nearly as much as it should have. The greatest gift of the Ancients, the inner fire of the berserk, had been given to him. Nothing could stop him now.
−
−	While clearing the marketplace, the fit came over him many more times. Blinded to pain, his armor repair bills skyrocketed; the smith wondered how he could be so happy while his armor looked like he was getting hacked to pieces every time he went out. As he got used to the fire coursing through his muscles, he found a loud war cry was enough to stun his foes, before he hacked them to bits. Wood and bone splintered like nothing now, he didn't notice how much his enemies hurt him until after the battle was over. In his saner moments, he realized that this was not entirely a good thing. Thinking in the long term, he had to keep himself whole and healthy, but when the ecstasy of combat filled him, none of that mattered. He did start picking up potions, though.
−
−	A square hole in the ground of the marketplace led into the city sewers. Water-filled tunnels branched out to every part of the city but the innermost regions. Apparently they still throw wastes into the lake the old-fashioned way up there. Like every other cave in this demon-haunted world, the place was lousy with demon-spawn, mostly undead: drowned zombies, skeletons, even mummies, both little ones and those obnoxious big ones. They must use a lot of preservatives to keep themselves fresh in this watery climate.
−
−	Of course, what part of Kurast would be Kurast without Flayers? Tearlach was thoroughly sick of the little bastards, and the sewers made it worse -- they were all undead, the kind that won't die peacefully. After an extremely unpleasant encounter with a stronger-than-average Flayer skeleton while in a berserk fit, Tearlach felt woozy enough to go back to merely hacking the little bastards up from behind his shield. Even the gifts of the ancestors should not be over-used. Damn, the thing left teeth embedded in his codpiece. Can't allow things like that to happen.
−
−	The deepest depths of the sewers hid a trap door, which Tearlach smashed through with his axe. Then he noticed the lever which opened it. Oh well, he could always use more practice with his weapon of choice. In a pit full of spitting water snakes, he found a dozen or so large chests full of treasure, and a well-preserved human heart. You don't often find well-preserved organs floating in slimy water, particularly in Kurast; this had to be another saintly relic. Let's see, that's an eye, a brain, and a heart. What comes next, his manhood?