Difference between revisions of "Mizor"

Revision as of 17:36, 29 August 2012

Diablo II	Notation	Basic	Class	Skill	Item	Ally	Quest	Area	Monster	Tale

Iron Frenzy

Hardly-Able

Mizor	I	II	III	IV	V	Xanthippe	I	II	III	IV	V	Thaddeus	I	II	III	IV	V	Tearlach	I	II	III	IV	V	Varnae	I	II	III	IV	V	Amanita	I	II	III	IV	V	Bodiccea	I	II	III	IV	V

Ok! With each character on this tour, I intend to explore every little dungeon, kill every monster I find, and finish every quest, even the annoying ones. Muling will be minimal, as I hardly have anything to mule over, and don't really want much muling. A good character build should be able to survive, but not thrive, with less-than-ideal equipment. Let's start our grand tour with... the Druid!

As I've hardly done anything with the Druid, doing something new should be a piece of cake. The first Druid I tried to play, I took my usual tactic of putting 1 point into each skill, just to test them and see what they do. That poor bastard couldn't even make it past the Smith. I followed this with a Werewolf who had a wolf pack, a strong and common build, judging from what I see now. The Werebear seemed too slow to do anything, even with a very fast weapon, but if Druids get a speed bonus with two-handed axes and mauls, I found the unique Broad Axe, Goreshovel, and have it on my mule. With a 30% speed bonus, that might solve the problem. The werebear seems less common than werewolves, though not as rare as the elementalist, so I'll get my feet wet trying a bear.

Now, he needs a name... Ursus? Bruin? Some variation of Berserk, which means bear-shirt, a term for a skin-changer? All a little too obvious for me. But the constellation Ursa Major, the great bear, has a double star, Alcor and Mizor. If you follow the constellation outline given by H. A. Rey, Alcor is the eye, and Mizor a tiny glint on the eye of the great bear. Mizor it is.

Act 1

Chapter 1

And so, Mizor popped into the world. Staring around for a moment, he was greeted by a nice fellow named Warriv, to whom he replied "players 8." A strange thing to say, but werefolk aren't the most talkative guys. Some spend too much time sniffing people's crotches, but Mizor is a dignified bear and will restrain that urge. Loping forth onto the Blood Moor, Mizor is a bit surprised to find the denizens can actually give him a bit of a fight - some even get a small piece of him now and then! Wow, saying "players 8" before a fight does make a big difference! But even though he's just a little bear, he's learning and will grow big and strong soon enough. Exploring a cave, he finds lots of big nasty monsters, and a zombie who must have been Arnold Swarzenegger in a previous life. Pounding in his thick skull takes a lot of time, but in the end, the Great Bear up in the sky is pleased with little Mizor, and grants him the power to change his skin. Giving thanks to the Great Bear, Mizor says "Ghhrahooffguh." Maybe there's a good reason werefolk don't say much.

Continuing through these nicely pallisaded wildlands, Mizor wonders, what's with all these fences and walls all over the place, anyway? Ack, something's trying to kill me. It's a little snot-nosed, wobbly-kneed, unkempt, ill-mannered, and positively unsanitary demonling named Bishibosh, who, with a bunch of like-minded friends, is tossing fireballs at Mizor like there's no tomorrow. Expressing his displeasure at one of the smaller ones, Mizor knocks him into next week... but another raises his staff, and the little guy comes back from his vacation with a suntan and a slide show. I'm going to have to take this up with Bishy himself, Mizor realizes, and in true bearish fashion, charges straight into the middle of the group. Things quickly degenerated, and after four minor healings and entirely too much time, Mizor stood triumphant. Ouch. That might have gone better if he had some friends.

As Mizor's adventures on the Cold Plains continued, he got some friends. First, the Great Bear sent... a raven? What's he doing sending me a bird? The raven expressed no opinion, simply perched on Mizor's shoulder and did his business. Mizor upgraded to a wolf. Then, he'd only have to watch where he stepped. This was followed by a sage spirit of the oaks, who would lend his aid by making Mizor and all his friends as sturdy as the trees. Why the spirit looks like Casper the Friendly Wriggling Starfish, no one knows. After meeting a few more very tough shamans (but not tough enough) and exploring another cave, Kashya told Mizor about an abomination in a graveyard. What's a graveyard? Mizor thought.

Mizor did not like Kashya. She was rude and sarcastic, and would hardly even talk to him when he was a bear. At least she didn't keep making "What does a bear do in the woods?" jokes like Gheed, but she sure wasn't nice or very helpful. Charsi was nice, Charsi would rub his ears and once found a tick that had been bothering him. And, before Mizor went to explore the graveyard, Charsi found a wonderful new axe for him: a Large Axe of Readiness, with increased attack speed! Well, she didn't really find it, she sold it to him, but it's the thought that counts with people like Charsi. Newly armed, Mizor went to this graveyard place, where the Rogues plant their dead instead of exposing them for the wolverines to eat like sensible people do, and found a horrible woman named Blood Raven.

It was a long battle, with Blood Raven running all over the graveyard and sniping with arrows of fire. Mizor followed, tripping over a bunch of inconveniently placed rocks every step of the way. His wolf friend chased her too, but didn't have much luck catching her either; she was quick. Mizor was considering drinking a healing potion when Blood Raven finally died, and after a pretty light show, her spirit wafted up to the heavens. No doubt the Great Bear had summoned her up there, to deal with her properly after the way she had inconvenienced his chosen one.

Kashya was impressed, but Mizor never got a chance to ask her why that woman was named Blood Raven. I mean, even if your last name is Raven, why would your parents name you Blood? Kashya did let him hire one of her Rogues for free, a cute little woman named Paige. Paige didn't look happy about serving Mizor, but after he bought her a nice new bow and some studded leathers, she calmed down some. Why wouldn't Kashya give her Rogues any equipment, anyway? No wonder they can't fight off the demons and take back the monestary. And why were the only armors for sale in camp leather? Lots of athletic young women... all the clothes are leather... but Kashya usually doesn't give them anything to wear... Mizor decided not to think about that anymore.

Chapter 2

Awakening, Mizor yawned, said "players 8" and walked over to the handy dandy waypoint the Rogues had in their camp. That was one of the great conveniences to this place, maybe he should try to get the other Werebears to make some of them back home. Sure beats walking everywhere, he wasn't as fast on his feet as the little Werewolves, funny-looking as they are. Of course, the werewolves always say the werebears are funny-looking; huge towering lummoxes tottering along on itty bitty legs, they say. But they don't say it up close. Anyway, with a blue flash and a single unearthly note, Mizor, Paige, a spirit wolf (Mizor called it Wolf) and the Oak Sage appeared on the Cold Plains. He'd explored everything there last night, but more evil creatures had come back; Paige said they did that every night.

Fighting their way through the ever-present fences, Mizor and company made their way to a large stony field, full of more monsters. There was a lot more fighting, bashing, smashing, and stomping of tiny demons and corrupted Rogues, before they came to a quintet of standing stones.

Mizor: "Whrrrflloo." (These stones are common where I am from.)

Paige: "Huh? Did you try to say something?"

Mizor: "Hwaaoder!" (Hey, Wolf smells something over there.)

Paige: "I smell something over here. Maybe you should stop wearing those old skins?"

It was one of the little demons, spitting lightning and saying "Rakanishu!" every time Wolf bit him. This might be dangerous, so Mizor joined in the battle, while Paige busied herself with some other demons. The fight was short but painful; Wolf died, and Mizor was half bald and smelled even worse than before.

Mizor: "Aaaawaaahroo!"

Paige: "Maybe you should try Rogaine. Thanks for getting rid of the skins, by the way."

Mizor summoned another wolf. He called it Wolf. There didn't seem to be any point in getting attached to them. After entirely too much fighting, they came to a cliff. This was surprising, out here on the plains and fields, even if it was only a little cliff to Mizor's eyes, but the important thing about the cliff was a cave. The cave led to a long, dark, underground tunnel that emerged in dark woods. Of course, these weren't real woods... not like the ones back home. But on a trip back to town, Akara told him about a certain special tree he should look for.

Akara: "It is clear we are facing a great evil. We must seek the council of Deckard Cain immediately."

Mizor: "Rrrr?"

Akara: "He lives in Tristram, hundreds of miles from here, but there is a portal we can use. Find a circle of five stones, then find a special tree. Take the bark from the tree, bring it to me for translation, and touch the stones of the circle in the order I give you."

Mizor: (Looks forlornly at the waypoint.)

Akara: "I fear Tristram does not have a waypoint. Do not worry, many of our Rogue sisters went to Tristram to battle Diablo there, when he first reappeared in the world."

Paige: "Just a moment, please, wise Akara. When our sisters were traveling to Tristram, why did you not open this portal for them?"

Akara: "I felt there was no great need for haste."

Paige: "But a great evil was coming back into the world! Would that not call for haste?"

Akara: "Well... the portal's enchantments are old, and using it might have been dangerous."

Mizor: "Aaahrrrriiow!" Paige: "Bearbutt is wondering why you think it will be safe now."

Kashya: "You can understand him?"

Paige: "You figure it out after a while."

Akara: "No, but our choices are few and the danger is great. You must do this. And Paige, no one is to refer to our friend as 'Bearbutt'."

Mizor: (Looks extremely dubious, but returns to the stony fields.)

Kashya: "I don't know why you think Bearbutt can do it."

Akara: "Though he is funny-looking, has itty bitty legs, and suffers from a speech impediment, he is our only hope."

Kashya: "You forgot the smell."

Akara: "I have been trying to forget it since he came into our camp."

Like a good bear, Mizor returned to the stones, touched them, and went through the sparkly red portal that appeared. Tristram was a burning mess, full of nasty surprises, including a named Skeleton warrior and the fattest zombie Mizor had ever seen standing right next together. They made for a long fight; Mizor went out of bear form twice before he managed to knock the fat one down for good. The only living inhabitant of the town was an old guy, hanging in a cage; why was he spared, of all of these people? A mystery to ponder another time; the old man made his own portal, and left. Another mystery to ponder - if he could do that, why was he sitting in that cage?

The old man, Deckard Cain, turned out to be fairly useful. He was full of all kinds of facts on magical items, and made himself very useful explaining their properties. He also identified the demon who was occupying the monastery - Andariel, the maiden of anguish, poisoner of hearts. And, as a final reward for his good deed, the Great Bear blessed Mizor with a gift from the heavens. Right on his head, too. When he regained consciousness, Mizor found he had a new axe, a bigger, faster, more magical axe than his old axe - the broad axe Goreshovel. Thus armed, Mizor went to sleep again. He'd had a long day.

Chapter 3

Ah, another day, another endless series of death and bloodshed. Slaughtering the minions of evil gets to be a little monotonous after a while, they just keep coming back for more, one after the other, you can whack them, maul them, set them on fire or freeze them solid, they don't seem to care. I mean, when you kill a demon, where does it go? Back home, and its master summons it up again later. Makes you wonder if there's any point to the whole business, or if it's all just a big waste of time, they'll keep coming and there's nothing you can do about it. Maybe this Cain guy would have some answers, Akara said he was very wise.

It took time, but Mizor managed to ask Cain about it, and he had a ready answer. Yes, the greater demons simply bring their followers back; they quickly return to full strength if given any respite. Which is exactly why you need to kill the greater demon lords themselves; no one can bring them back once they are banished from the world. And the biggest demon lords of them all are the Three, one of whom is roaming the land and causing all of this misery. But to reach him, you first must find your way through the hordes of lesser evils he has left in his wake, and challenge him alone.

Clearly, Mizor had his work cut out for him, so he and his entourage returned to the dark wood. Moving quickly, they cleared a path to a black and greasy marsh, full of walking skeletons and goats on two legs. The goats might have been tolerable company if they weren't trying to kill him, but they had no sense of humor, or even much dignity; they made ridiculous noises as they died. How even a demon could live without dignity was unimaginable. In the middle of the marsh was a big, burnt-out building, with nothing inside but a ladder leading down to the cellars.

The building, Paige said, was the castle of a Countess who had lived there ages ago. She was an evil woman, who drank and bathed in the blood of a hundred virgin girls before she was sealed alive in the basement of her tower, which was then burnt to the ground. Ah, Mizor recalled, that must be what that odd tome he'd found in the stony fields was talking about. Strangest book, when he opened it, some guy started reading from it aloud, and Mizor couldn't find him anywhere. So, a decadent noble was killing young girls in the olden days. Why kill her by putting her in the basement, and then burn everything above the ground? Shouldn't you put her on the top story, then burn her tower? Sometimes, it seemed that the people in these lands lacked all common sense.

However... Mizor had learned that demons liked to hide in dark caves, and they often had useful things. That basement was as good a place as any, so Mizor led everyone down. At least, he tried to; bears don't do well on ladders. The bear-shaped imprint in the basement floor was a good warning that he was coming, but judging by the smell, there wasn't much alive in there. The place was completely empty, except for some treasure chests and stairs leading to another level of cellar. How many cellars would even a countess need? There couldn't be many.

On the next cellar level, they found all the monsters who were missing from the first level. Right by the stairs, there was a big nasty goat with a bunch of friends. When Mizor tried to move past them to get a little elbow room... there were ghosts down there! A powerful ghost was spitting lightning, and howling like a banshee!

Named Ghost: "We want blood! We want blood! The countess took all of ours!"

Mizor: "Whagarooloorss?!" (What do you want with blood? You have no use for it!)

Named Ghost: "We want blood! We want blood! You have some! Give it to us!"

Mizor: (Points to Named Goat) "Aahhm!" (What about him?)

Named Goat: (Brains Paige with a hammer.) "Hey, don't get me mixed up in this."

Mizor: "Ahhksrrsh." (I think you're being very selfish.) (Mauls Named Goat repeatedly.)

Named Ghost: "We want blood! We want blood! Ouch! Nice doggy!"

Wolf: "Yip! Whine!" (Sizzles with lightning.)

Mizor, Paige, and Oak Sage: "Yip! Whine! Not the Lightning Enchanted beastie!"

Everyone but Mizor died. Mizor lost every inch of fur on him, and again really wished they had something besides leathers in town. Leathers smell just terrible when burnt. Strangely, when he visited Kashya, she wasn't upset about Paige getting flash-fried to a crackly crunch. For a few thousand (a paltry sum, given what Mizor had in his war chest) she could resurrect her and send her into the fight again! Gosh. The veil between life and death was very thin in this part of the world. And Charsi had metal armor for sale! Scale mail, much better. Mizor bought a suit for Paige too, and returned to the forgotten tower.

On the fifth level below ground, Mizor finally found the Countess. She was alive... sort of... even after all this time. Surrounded by ghosts, goats, but no ghosts of goats, and a number of nearly naked nubile nymphs (try saying that when you're a Werebear) the Countess had grown fangs, a pallid complexion, and an unhealthy fondness for Anne Rice novels. She had gone beyond life and death... but not beyond having her arms ripped off by a claustrophobic Werebear. Who'd need five levels of cellars, anyway? No one has that much wine to store. But she did have money, a lot of it, and after leaving tower, Mizor could see another large building, almost within spitting distance; the monastery. He didn't like the look of it one bit.

Chapter 4

The closer Mizor got to the building, the bigger and more radiant with simple, pure evil it seemed. Or maybe it was just Mizor; he'd never liked being indoors. Those caves hadn't helped, and the incredibly deep cellars the Countess had made him feel itchy all over just thinking about them. Paige was sure it was fleas.

Demons were pouring (well, ambling) out of the monastery gates, obviously sent by Andariel. Smashing and bashing their way in, Mizor stopped to admire the fountain in the outer cloister, curiously untouched by the demonic occupation. Though made by the hand of man, it was a very pretty fountain, especially after the ugliness of what was outside. The cloisters were quiet, with large gardens that had been trampled and despoiled, but not quite killed yet. Soon, nature would be allowed to return and make even these places green again, but there were things to take care of first...

Further in were barracks, with several weapon storage areas, now mostly empty. Mizor found a lovely new bow for Paige, and a very bad-tempered Shaman who was unwise enough to stand next to a small shrine which granted fire resistance. It was actually a lucky thing the shrine was there; both Paige and Wolf decided not to go into that room with Mizor, so he got to fight both the Shaman, his friends, and some skeletal archers all by himself. When Paige did decide to come in, just as the last one died, Mizor informed her she would be receiving a cut in pay.

In the deepest parts of the barracks, they discovered a forge, probably where Charsi had done her work in happier days. Now, a huge fat demon in an apron was working in there, but he was no great danger. Peppered with arrows and nibbled on by Wolf, Mizor hardly had to do anything to him at all, just loot the room. There was a nifty little hammer there, which Mizor was sure Charsi would love to have back again.

The door further into the monastery was barred and nailed shut, and not even Mizor's strength could get it open. Paige said that when the demons first appeared, they had tried to contain by blocking all the doors leading out of the inner monastery. But they'd come up from below, through the jails under the barracks. Reasoning that they could get inside the same way, Paige led them to the stairs, and they made their way through the jails. There were several levels underground; even the Rogues were fond of cellars. All over the jails were instruments of torture, and bits and pieces of very, very dead women.

Why did the Rogues need so much prison space? Mizor was sure the torture implements were not demon-made, but there originally. Civilized people; why do such insane things? If someone commits a crime, banish or kill them. Inflicting agony serves no purpose either. Even though the demons hadn't needed to bring their own entertainment with them, they surely knew what to do with what they found. And the way they'd decorated the jails with the mutilated dead was even more wrong than planting them deep in the ground. Death was part of life, but only because the dead carried on into life again. Keeping the dead, or getting them to get up and walk around, was even more a denial of the circle than planting; at least there, they would nourish the trees.

Beyond the jails was an inner cloister, despoiled with bodies, and a cathedral, the way civilized people imagined others should see the light. A new sort of poison filled the cathedral now, a horrible skeleton that spat venom; it must have been a priest in life. Below the cathedrals were catacombs, full of walking dead and more horrible things; it was no surprise that they went very deep into the ground, catacombs are supposed to. At the fourth level below ground, the floor was broken, with a pool of blood and naked dead bodies filled the hole. Two huge doors behind it led to a cross-shaped room, what must have been the monastery's deepest chapel. It would be the perfect place for a demon queen to make her throne, and sure enough, when Mizor charged through the doors, a horrible voice said, "Die, maggot!" and he saw Andariel.

Gheed had mentioned that Andariel was reputed to be beautiful. Perhaps she was, in the eyes of people like Gheed. Certainly, some parts of her were shaped in ways men would find beautiful. The huge spider's legs growing from her back would not be beautiful to anyone Mizor knew, though, and what was she doing with her hair? Before he had time to ask, she was upon him, clouds of venom boiling out of her body and dripping from her unnatural fangs. The battle was long, but Mizor mauled and beat her until her body broke and disintegrated in a column of hellish flame. Drinking an alchemical elixir he'd thought to bring cured him of the last of the poison's effects; Paige was unhurt.

Back at the camp, everyone congratulated him; no more "Bearbutt" now. Even Kashya tried to make friends, and Mizor was pleased enough with himself not to pound her into the ground like a tent stake. The Rogues returned to the monastery, clearing the remaining demons as they went, and Warriv took his caravan (and Mizor) through to Lhut Gholein.

Some thoughts:

Players 8 hasn't really made the game more challenging, at least for a Werebear. The biggest difference is that monsters take much longer to die, which can make them a threat in the very early levels. But you gain levels so much faster, your character is tougher and able to use stronger skills sooner.
Mizor was level 19 when he killed Andariel, which is as late as I've ever killed her, and the fight was relatively easy. Perhaps using 'players 8' would be better if you are moving through Act 1 quickly, ignoring quests and the small dungeons.
The Shaman's fireballs seemed to hurt more than I remember; does 'players 8' increase the damage from elemental attacks?
Muling can make the game much easier, if you have the items to mule. Having Goreshovel was a real boon. That axe seems almost made for a Werebear, and not having it would have made the act much more challenging.

Act 2

Chapter 5

Ah, the glorious city of Lut Gholein! Well, the glorious town of Lut Gholein. It's a bit smaller than the word "city" would imply. Warriv dropped them off inside the western gates, and a very nicely-dressed young man greeted Paige.

Jerhyn: "Welcome, honored traveler. I bid you welcome to my fair port city."

Paige: "Thanks, but he's the honored traveler."

Mizor: "Whurrf."

Jerhyn: "Ah, of course, I should have noticed the axe. I bid you welcome, and apologize for my oversight."

Mizor: "Rmmmm." (Attempts a smile.)

Jerhyn was lord of Lut Gholein, and gave them a lovely little tour. The palace was a graceful edifice, but Jerhyn did not invite them in, saying things were "a bit of a mess." There was a small inn, where Mizor rented a room, mostly for Paige; he felt no need to stay there himself. The town's walls were manned by mercenaries, led by a man named Greiz; Greiz seemed to think Mizor was some kind of traveling animal act, and asked what tricks he did. Mizor showed him one. It's a good thing Greiz was wearing a helmet, and that Jerhyn was there to calm things down.

In a central market, Fara, a pale-skinned, red-haired woman quite unlike the rest of the town's inhabitants, had set up an armory. Mizor bought himself some chainmail, and a new helmet for Paige. Deckard Cain, who had come along, was sitting by the well in the center of town, talking with an alchemist. Further down the street was a tavern, where several people were sullenly drinking and trying to avoid going out of doors. The tavern owner, a woman named Atma, accosted Paige.

Atma: "I cannot expect this of you, but if you will help me, I would be grateful."

Paige: (Looks up at Mizor) "You know, I wouldn't think you'd be this hard to miss."

Mizor: "Rrraaaghhh!"

Atma: "I will accept aid from anyone. My husband and son were slaughtered by a fiend from the town's sewers. Vengeance is all I can have."

Mizor: "Wazewr?" (What's a sewer?)

Paige: "A bunch of tunnels under a town, to wash... wastes away where people won't have to step in them."

Mizor: (Looks down at Wolf.) "Hooa." (Good idea.)

Wolf: (pant pant pant, wag tail.)

The sewer outflow was under the town's docks, above the sea. Mizor had never seen a sea before, and had to stare at all that water. It didn't smell very good, but that might have been the sewer. They went into the outflow tunnel; it was the sewer. This sewer was full of flaming skeletons with bows and scimitars, no doubt brought in by the evil fiend. These people were fond of tombs, so they probably hadn't washed their ancestors down the drain.

The sewers were deep, going down three levels, and full of the burning dead. On the lowest level, there were more skeletons, and... cat people! Maybe they'd be friendlier than the goat people back at the monastery, Mizor thought, the animal people of the world can't all be pawns of hell. They weren't as bad as the goats -- they were worse, using whips to lash pieces of skin away, a slow and agonizing way to kill. At the very bottom was a gigantic... skeleton? Zombie? A towering patchwork of parts, some very fresh, others so old they puffed up dust every time the creature moved.

The creature's retinue of skeletons was huge, and it raised every one that was struck down. And he kept repeating, "I shall live again!" Death comes to us all, and none should attempt to move beyond their span, but some need more convincing than others. After drawing some of the skeletons away to kill, the crowd was thin enough that Mizor could charge straight in, and knock this Radamant around until his stitches came undone. After a long battle, they did, and all of his servants died with him. Now stay that way, Mizor thought.

Radamant had a nice book with him, and a scroll. Cain explained that the Horadrim used to "mummify" their highest mages, drying and poisoning the body so that nothing could eat it and it would remain intact for a long time. Parts of the body were replaced with animal parts, and enchantments woven among the bones to raise them, so they could "protect their own tombs against bandits." Now, why don't they just forget the whole tomb business, and let the dead be dead? There would be nothing for the bandits to steal, and the demons wouldn't have nearly as much material lying around to work with. It would be a little late to point that out now. But Cain did say something worth hearing: hidden in one old tomb, there was a device called a Horadric Cube, which could change things into other things. That might be useful, so Mizor went to look for it.

Chapter 6

Having cleaned out the sewers below Lut Gholein, Mizor turned his attention to the surface outside the gates. What a barren, inhospitable land this was. How did the people get enough food to support them here? There didn't seem to be that many fish for sale in the market. As usual, there wasn't much time to think about it; a group of strange creatures scampered out of the rocky wastes, and leapt high in the air to attack. They were very annoying opponents, not hitting hard enough to really hurt, but they leapt and bounced and rolled away from blows with great speed.

After the last of the leapers bit the sandy dust, vultures came circling overhead. That would not have been alarming, but these vultures had four legs, and hands. They flew high enough that Paige doubted she could hit one unless they came lower, which they did in a steep dive. When they landed, they took no interest in the dead leapers, but attacked Mizor and his friends; live prey seemed to appeal to them. While dealing with them, a group of cat people walked up, and started lobbing poisonous potions. It was turning out to be quite a party, and they'd hardly gotten out of the gates.

Moving through the flat valley between the low hills of the desert, Mizor found great heat, very little water (which looked black and undrinkable), and bugs. Bugs were everywhere, scorpions, sand fleas, flies, chiggers, mosquitoes, every bug that stung or bit or itched or flew into the eyes, hovering over the occasional mercenary corpse, crawling amid the spiny plants, descending in clouds with every demon vulture that dove down... poor Mizor just couldn't stand it after a while. Even that pool of black, stagnant water had to be better than being eaten alive... so he dove in. Then ran screaming back to town. Paige found him in the tavern.

Mizor: "Waauuughh." (Tips mug of ale over his whole nose.)

Geglash: "I hear ya, I can't stand them demons either. Say... aren't ya supposed to be an elephant? And pink?"

Mizor: "Rubrrum." (Sunburn.) (Rubs his poor red nose.)

Geglash: "Yeah, Lorcia's Red Rum is to die for! I can't always afford it. I don't suppose a rich guy like you could help a buddy out... ?"

Mizor: "Snooorf." (Drops gold on bar. A bottle appears.)

Atma: (To Paige.) "He just came in. He must need help with all those leeches." Paige: "How expensive is salt here?"

Atma: "It doesn't matter. Perhaps one of my hairbrushes would help as well."

After Mizor's beer bath (which did him a tiny bit of good) they went out to a small tomb not far from the city gates. After stomping through the tomb for a while, Mizor noticed he wasn't itching any more. He couldn't understand it, until after a fight with a walking mummy named Feeping Creature. Or Creeping Feature. Something. Anyway, after they die, the lesser mummies break open in a cloud of rotten corpse gas. Mizor just held his breath... but the bugs didn't know to, and after a few mummies, they were all dead. The living dead have their charms after all.

Moving beyond the low wastes, Mizor led his merry band into some dry hills. The cat people were thick here, and a huge set of tombs lay buried beyond a single entrance. Not only were there skeletons and the lesser mummies, but also big mummies like Radamant, but with animal skulls and a huge sickle of bone in place of one hand. They didn't have to die to unleash corpse gas, they could breathe it out. You know, these things could actually be useful! Just get one back to town and rent it out for fumigation, Elzix's whole inn could sure use it. Drag the monster into someone's living room, let it do its thing...

Mizor didn't realize he'd been giggling until Paige asked him what was funny. Imagine, a Werebear giggling. And plotting to use the living dead! No doubt some mad entrepreneur of a Necromancer would try it, if any of them ever thought of it. He sure wasn't going to tell one, they didn't need any encouragement. At the bottom of the tombs, there was a special chamber with no burials, just a fancy chest containing an even fancier box. It was a strange box, which opened completely without obvious hinges, and had a big button on one side.

Cain said it was a Horadric Cube, and he had quite a treasure there, it would change things into other things, like three chips of gemstone into a larger, better quality gem. Mizor looked at the huge pile of shiny rocks he'd been collecting (they were pretty) and immediately understood. There was a lot more room in his war chest after that.

Chapter 7

Beyond the dry hills was an oasis, though its waters were fouled with muck and full of insects. And what insects they were! Huge crawling things bigger than Mizor, giant beetles that spat out lightning, and demonic clouds of midges which acted as though guided by a single mind. His fur was almost alive by the time they cleared the oasis, and to his disappointment, there wasn't a single tomb available for delousing. Just a round hole in the ground, with more bugs crawling, flying, or stumbling out of it. There must be something unnatural down there, to be producing all these things; something that needed killing.

The hole was just wide enough to accommodate Mizor. The tunnels beyond were rather... slimy, and full of every sort of evil bug imaginable. At the bottom, in a huge chamber, was a maggot five times the size of all the others, with veiny tendrils burrowed into the earth, laying more bugs as fast as its huge, bloated body could force them out. And when it died, the squeal was deafening, before it exploded in a shower of venomous slime that covered everything in the chamber in rank, sticky goo. Adventures in mucous.

Antidote potions were distributed to all. It sure killed off the fleas, but Mizor preferred the mummies. Paige didn't like it one bit; she was huddled against the wall, whimpering "gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross" until Mizor had to slap her. The Maggot Queen had a chest with a staff in it; why would a bug want such a thing, Mizor wondered? But who can say with these unnatural creatures? In another chamber of the lair, Mizor opened a single chest, and found no less than six rare items! None were particularly useful for him, but these bugs seemed quite adept at collecting treasures.

In the hills beyond the oasis was a ruined city, its buildings in ruins and filled with the dead. The fate of all cities, though not all cities had such active dead. Soon after Mizor came within sight of the dead city, the sun... went out? Something large and black was covering the sun! No one in town knew anything about it, but Drognan, who was otherwise not very helpful, suggested that some snake people called Claw Vipers could be responsible. Mizor had seem pictures of them on the walls of the tombs, big snakes with arms and a foul disposition, judging from the human heads they were always holding. Goat people, cat people, and now snake people; these demons were giving animals a bad name. No wonder ordinary people were nervous around him, Mizor thought.

The city of the dead had many zombies, most of them infected with the plague that must have wiped out the city. In an adjacent valley, a huge temple, decorated with serpents, led to an underground complex. More underground tunnels. Mizor sighed. In the future, he resolved to only save the world from demonic invasions if they remained strictly out of doors. And no blotting out the sun, that was just creepy. The temple was full of snake people and mummies, a sure sign that these serpents were in league with evil forces. Sure enough, in the basement, they had set up an evil altar to worship demons. Mizor and his friends smashed, shot, and chomped through every snake in the place; he even summoned up another wolf just for a lightning-spitting one by the altar. After smashing the alter, Mizor found an amulet, and was glad to see the sun had returned when he got back to the surface.

Mizor: "Whawarrrityesrrr?"

Paige: "Mizor wants to know how the people of the city died, and why the Claw Vipers had built their temple right next to it, and where the diseased zombies came from?"

Drognan: "I am impressed with your keen ear, Rogue. Your master is correct in surmising that the three things are connected. In ages past, men made attempts to be friendly with the serpent men, reasoning that kindly overtures may be reciprocated, and a cold exterior may conceal a better nature than was actually the case. The Claw Vipers were allowed to build their home next to the city, and relations were good at first."

Paige: "So, you're saying the Vipers are pretty good liars."

Mizor: "Sheekrnnge." (Speak with forked tongue.)

Drognan: "In so many words. The Claw Viper's hearts are cold and empty, and they took the gentle words of the city people as a sign of weakness, to exploit for foul sacrifice to their dark masters. The entire city was wiped out by the foulest disease many decades ago, and its former inhabitants' bodies are enslaved for the demon's foul purposes. But there is another matter which concerns us more now. You must speak with Jerhyn immediately."

Jerhyn was eager to see them. It turned out that his palace was being invaded from below by demons! A Vizjeri wizard had wandered in and disappeared while exploring the cellars, near a strange gate Jerhyn had down there. Since then, demons had been pouring through the gate, and every guard Jerhyn had was pulled away from the town walls and put in the palace. Now, there were only two left, Kaelen and one other guy. Jerhyn was distraught, lest his city be overrun from within his own palace. "Do you wonder, could there be a connection between that mage, and the demons now driving upwards from my cellars?"

Mizor blinked, smacked his forehead, and wondered why he was helping these people. Jerhyn had a strange gate thing in his cellar, and didn't know where it led. Some demon-summoner wizard wants to be left alone with it, and Jerhyn allows it. The wizard disappears, and then demons start pouring through the gate. And he was wondering if there might be a connection. It took all of Mizor's willpower not to clobber Jerhyn, just to try to knock some sense into his head. Muttering to himself, Mizor smiled, which made everyone nervous, shoved the guards aside, and entered the palace.

Chapter 8

Jerhyn's palace was spacious and opulent, full of soft cushions, divans, latticework, large round beds (a lot of beds), trellises and screens, as well as silken curtains, satiny sheets, tiled floors, gorgeous gilt-and-enamel wall decorations, erotic artwork, and candelabra in every room. The impression of wealth and indolence would have been complete if there weren't so many bits and pieces of town guards and harem girls everywhere. They were impaled on their own spears, tied to the gilded columns, forced halfway through barred windows, spread out over the carpets... over several carpets, even. What could possibly lead creatures to crush and mangle these bodies long after all life was gone? Even Mizor could think of better things to do with a harem girl, but maybe demons don't care about that.

Noticing that his wolves were eating the bodies of the demons, Mizor decided to try a little of it himself. Demons taste terrible, especially when they're still alive, but it was invigorating in a strange way. In the palace, Mizor found something he hadn't seen before: a head pelt, such as his people wear as a sign of high status. It was a hawk helm, from the giant eagles of the mountains, but not of good quality; maybe Jerhyn had it for his private museum of curiosities. On a whim, Mizor put it on, and smiled at Paige, sure that he looked quite regal. Paige stared for a moment, bug-eyed, then burst out laughing. "It's a chicken, I tell you! A giant chicken!" Mizor threw it away. It didn't look that much like a chicken... did it?

In the lowest level of cellars (sultans have an excuse for lots of cellars, at least) there was the gate, which opened easily. Beyond was a place not made by nature's architect, but by what sort of madman Mizor did not know. Suspended in empty space, long marble catwalks twisted and turned in impossible directions, with stars whizzing past through the void. Despite the catwalks, the inhabitants were goat men, along with ghouls and ghosts. There was a lot of old treasure, and Mizor discovered that ghosts taste like cold consomme; it surprised him that they tasted like anything, frankly. Deep in the maze, Mizor found a living, mortal man, dressed in the very old robes of some long-dead archmagus, and cackling madly. So Mizor bit his head off. It came off very easily; must not have been screwed on right.

The summoner had a red gate, which led to a barren canyon. There was also a handy waypoint, which Mizor used, and the Great Bear blessed him with another gift. An animal pelt, a superior set of antlers, though they looked like a ram's head. It gave him bonuses to his skills, +2 to Lycanthropy and +1 to Heart of Wolverine, with 3 sockets for his use; the Great Bear included three runes, Ral, Ort, and Thul. These would not spell out any of the sacred words, but would grant Mizor resistance against the elements, something he didn't mind at all. All praise the Great Bear!

The entrances to this canyon had been sealed off long ago by huge rockslides; the waypoint was probably the only way in. Set in the walls were seven tombs. Didn't Jerhyn mention something about seven tombs in a canyon, one of which had Baal in it? Yes! The arcane sanctuary was built by some Portajon guy, who had a journal where he might have written it down... back in his sanctuary... for which the red gate was now gone... doh! Well, there was no point in going through the arcane maze again; Diablo couldn't possibly have gotten into this canyon. Mizor could leisurely go through the tombs, one at a time, until he found the right one.

They went through all seven tombs, and found all kinds of demons, but nothing that looked like it might be Baal, or even Diablo. Back in town, Cain had been trying to get his attention, and finally got him to sit down and explain, with a lot of help form Paige. It turns out they needed to use the Horadric cube to make a Staff of Kings, and put it in a socket in the floor of a special chamber to open the way to Baal's tomb.

Cain: "I hope there is still time to stop Diablo, before he frees his brother!"

Paige: "If someone would ever stop to ask for directions, I know there would be!"

Mizor: "Rrruff!" (Looks petulant. It's not his fault they made this so confusing!)

Paige: "You never admit when you're lost. And what are you doing summoning up wolves, anyway? I thought you worshipped the big bear."

Mizor: "Grrrrbrr! Aauugh... wwbrrr!" (That's the Great Bear to you, missy! And those aren't wolves. They're... wolf-bears!"

Paige: "Wolf-bears?"

Mizor: "Wwbrrr."

(Paige looks at the wolves. They look back with happy wolf expressions all over their faces.)

Paige: "Oh... kay."

So, back they went, with the staff, and found the room. After another pretty light show, they went in and found, not Tal Rasha, not Baal, but something completely different, and completely disgusting. It was a huge ugly maggoty slug of a demon prince, probably father to every evil bug in the desert. Fighting him hip-deep in a mud pit was slow, but by biting chunks out of his diabolical body every so often, Mizor didn't need to touch a single potion, just beat him down until his bloated body burst and died. Baal was not in the tomb. The platform where he had been imprisoned was empty except for an angel, who chided Mizor for being so late. Baal and Diablo were headed for Kurast, where the third brother, Mephisto, had been imprisoned, and Mizor had better not be too late to reach him or the world was doomed. Everybody's a critic; it's not Mizor's fault that he walks so slow.

Concluding thoughts:

High level Werebears get a lot of hit points, even without Oak Sage. Get some decent life leech, or alternate Maul with Hunger, and you can't die unless you can't leech or something kills you in one shot. Even Ancient Kaa the Soulless didn't faze Mizor.
Maul works well if you scatter shots among a group of foes; while they're stunned, they don't attack. Shockwave works on those pesky ranged attackers. Do higher levels of Shockwave increase the range and breadth of the wave, I wonder?
Fire Claws is a poor way to kill physical immunes unless you have a high level of it. Which would put you in the revolting position of having to put more points into your backup attack skill than your main attack skill to make it work.
I tried putting an unenchanted Maul on Mizor, to see how slow he was normally. Without Goreshovel, I would probably given up on him in frustration, he's so slow. The Werebear may be more item-dependent than the wolf, not to survive, but to be entertaining.

Act 3

Chapter 9

Glorious Kurast, huh? The dockside only had enough space for one ship, all the rest was overgrown. Mizor normally wouldn't see anything wrong with this, but this growth was not natural. For one thing, the dock obviously wasn't old or abandoned, but had been in use within the year. For another, he could put his paw on the trunk of a tree and feel it growing, its woody fibers twisting like living rope as it sprouted black leaves up to the overcast sky. Lut Gholein was bad, with monstrous beasts plaguing the desert, but this... nature itself seemed to have been taken into league with the demonic invasion. It was unimaginable how such a thing could happen, but here it was.

As Mizor stood staring at the impossible green corruption curling like claws around the docks, a small, thin man greeted him.

Hratli: "Well. As sanity is in such short supply here, I suppose you must be our savior, and the greatest of all men. Welcome to Kurast, traveler. I am Hratli, smith and enchanter."

Paige: "Thanks... say, aren't smiths a little... bigger, usually?"

Hratli: "That would be true, if madness were not the course of our days here. I am, as you see, a pathetic specimen, who appears unsuited to his craft. Our finest healer is tall and powerful, with hands that can crack the strongest betel nuts, while a great warrior, a slender woman, stands on our southern docks and does nothing all day. Nothing is as it should be."

Mizor: (Looking at tree as it grows six inches taller during Hratli's speech.) "Auhh."

Hratli: "Your words are full of wisdom. I could learn much from your sage council. You should let others know of your arrival. They will be overjoyed."

No one on the docks was particularly happy to see them, but no one was ever happy to see Mizor the first time he came to a town. There were quite a few people wandering the docks like lost souls, with nothing to eat but fish and bananas. Besides the healer and the warrior (who certainly didn't look the part), there was a hermit-like alchemist who threw rocks at Mizor until he went away, and a mercenary battle-mage who obviously didn't catch colds easily. Maybe it was her way of dealing with the warm and sticky weather. Deckard Cain had come over with them; didn't he have anything better to do, like go somewhere else? Oh well, at least he was good for figuring out item enchantments.

Moving off the docks onto land, Mizor saw, up ahead, a man stumbling into the jungle. He was completely covered in a rough brown robe and cowl, but the aura of menace he radiated was unmistakable... this had to be the wanderer who was host to Diablo! The Krakatoan Body Slam would have been the move of choice, except that the wanderer vanished as Mizor approached. Drat. But they were catching up with him! Mizor was at least a month behind at Rogue's pass, and a few days behind at Tal Rasha's tomb. Now, he had finally caught up to Diablo, and would surely overtake him before he'd reached Mephisto! Unless something went wrong, but what could possibly happen?

Mizor led his group along a river; it was better than trying to make their way through the jungle. The greenery was growing even faster beyond the dockside, and sometimes, buried in the green, Mizor could see a house or other structure, only recently abandoned. This was not a virgin jungle, but had been the suburbs of the city. Now, it was full of birds with skull faces, gigantic mosquitoes, and psychopathic midgets with blowguns. The midgets were the most annoying, they were horrifically fast. Mizor could run up to one, swing his axe, and it would have run away by the time the blow came down. None of the monsters could really hurt Mizor, though they all tried as hard as they could.

One of the skull birds was carrying around a little jade statue of a barbaric warrior. How, Mizor did not know, but how had that midget been carrying a poleaxe? Cain said that Meshif collected jade, so they took it over to his ship. It turns out that it was the very rare #47 of a 60-statue set put out by Steroid Stud magazine. Meshif was so happy to complete his collection, he gave Mizor a frilly little filigree statuette of a golden bird in exchange. It was all very odd, but it would explain why Meshif was so well-built for a sea captain, if he read muscle magazines. Maybe he'd picked it up in the navy. Alkor the alchemist gave Mizor a potion in exchange for the bird. It was very tasty and good.

Deeper in the jungles, giant spiders had built huge underground nests to incubate their eggs. Cain said the spiders had once been much smaller, and harmless; yet another example of how the corruption of demons could taint even the purity of animals. Mizor went through both of the nests they found, killing huge, venomous spiders and crushing their eggs, when he found something locked in a chest: a human eye, but the iris was red. It felt much tougher than a normal eye had a right to be, too, so Mizor took it back to Cain to ask about.

Chapter 10

The eye Mizor found in the spiders' cavern was a holy relic of some kind. Cain had been talking with the townspeople while Mizor was out slaughtering the minions of evil, and it seems that a long time ago, a priest named Khalim had opposed the rest of the high council of Zakarum on some religious matter. This was before the evil of organized religion had become as obvious as it was now, so when the council killed him, it didn't raise much of a stir. But parts of Khalim's body wouldn't burn on his pyre: his eye, his brain, and his heart. His favorite flail proved likewise indestructible. Naturally, this was a sign from the Light that Khalim was blessed, so the council hid these parts in secret locations, to disguise their own corruption and hypocrisy. Cain guessed that this was Khalim's eye, and was sure it could be used in some way to bring about Mephisto's downfall.

When he visited Hratli to get a psycho-midget's head off of his boot (the damn thing bit him and wouldn't let go even after he decapitated it), Hratli mentioned that he had a protective spell around the dockside, which kept the monsters and most of the jungle growth out. With slow persistence, the jungle was rooting into the spell and weakening it, but there was a way it might be reinforced. Before the religion of Zakarum was established in these lands, the religion of Skatsim held sway. The Skatsimi had powerful relics, one of which was a dagger called the Gidbinn, which could bolster protective enchantments, and with it, the spell on the docks could be strengthened. Which religion prized what toy made little difference to Mizor, but magic was magic, and the dockside spell did keep the mosquitoes out.

Back in the jungle, Mizor trudged through a great, bug and zombie-infested marsh, which contained nothing of interest. Plunging in deeper, everything suddenly went quiet... just before the jungle came alive with dozens of midgets! They were everywhere, running around like screaming little monkeys, blowing tiny darts from behind leaves, zipping in and out and suicidally diving into you with knives half the size of their bodies. There were bigger ones too -- no, that was one riding on another's shoulders, breathing fire and raising up its fallen kin. They hit hard, took quite a bit to kill, and were just everywhere... Mizor and Paige had to fight for every inch they gained. Paige mentioned something about sympathizing with Karen Black, but Mizor didn't know what she was talking about.

After too much of this, they found a tiny village, with tiny little huts, skulls impaled on tiny little spikes, and human bodies in a huge pot set to boil so long they'd gone green and moldy. Well, they may not have been there very long; the jungle was so moist and fetid, even Mizor was growing mold in places he couldn't keep clean. To one side a dagger was suspended above a little woven mat: was this the Gidbinn thing? When Mizor went to get it, it burst into flame, and a new wave of midgets attacked. One of them had a dagger, obviously of great power, which Mizor gave to Ormus. Wasn't it Hratli who'd made the enchantment? Anyway, Ormus was very pleased, gave Mizor a fairly nice ring, and composed a poem in his honor.

O beast, great and hairy,

Growing green with rack and toil,

Whose odor does remind one

Of meat begun to spoil;

Do not tire of screaming foes,

or threats slimy and fungal!

For what a bear does in the woods,

He may do in the jungle!

Even if he'd been a better speaker, Mizor would have been at a loss for words.

Under the midget village was a dungeon. It was deep, maze-like, full of traps, and populated by more midgets than you could shake a Gidbinn at. The Flayers (judging from the human remains, they seemed to like flaying things alive) also kept their dead with them. Like most dead these days, they were lively; livelier and faster than the living ones, and they exploded into nasty, bony shards when destroyed. At least they didn't have lungs, and so couldn't blow darts. The dungeons were also home to many ghosts; places where people die in agony often are. These things gave Mizor the first real problem he'd had for a long time, when they sapped his spiritual strength with their touch. Spirit is so necessary for a lycanthrope, and after his first hard fight, Mizor learned to make a great shockwave before engaging ghosts, to stun them and keep them from swarming him.

At the bottom of the dungeons was a golden chest guarded by a fearsome Flayer shaman. The chest containing many treasures, and a human heart, still beating. Mizor wondered if the eye could still see, and the brain still think. What a revolting condition to find yourself in; was this a sign of a blessing from the Light, or a curse? He packed it away and returned to the surface, fighting on deeper into the jungle until they reached the outermost walls of Kurast, which surrounded the lower city.

Chapter 11

Well, if Mizor had begun to feel too sure of himself, lower Kurast changed his opinions. The area looked easy, relatively easy monsters and lots of magic items for the taking. Mizor was idly kicking baskets open as he waited for some green vultures to come down, not noticing that one was a unique, and both his wolves and Paige were in a nearby building, bumping up against the wall. Minions do that a lot; they get lost easily. Then the vultures came down, completely surrounding Mizor, and the unique got the first hit, instantly draining Mizor's mana reserves. Ah, extra fast, and mana burn. The unique and his crowd bunched up tight around Mizor and began swatting as fast and as often as they could.

The unique had a lot of hit points, so Mizor started thinning the crowd, taking out minions one by one. As the fight dragged on, and Mizor took more and more hits, something that he'd begun to think about in the Flayer dungeon was becoming painfully clear: Goreshovel simply wasn't doing the job anymore. It was nice, it was fast... it did more damage than any of the Great Axes he'd found, and he didn't want to fight with anything slower than that. The fight got so bad that Mizor was seriously considering drinking a purple potion, when the Great Bear saw his plight, and came to his aid just in the nick of time! (He really just hit level 30, and got his hit points and mana back.) Running out of the circle, Mizor stomped out a shockwave, and mopped up the stunned vultures easily. But that was much too close.

Paige got another deduction in pay. She mumbled some excuse about the door being stuck, but Mizor would have none of it. He also unsummoned both wolves, even though it made Paige cry. At least he wouldn't have to listen to any more "where's my puppy-wuppy?" talk, the Great Bear realized that Mizor could have a real pet now. So, he summoned his bear. Ah, much better, a bear worthy of the name; big as a house! Well, big as a room. Maybe big as a sofa. But bigger than a wolf! A much more proper fighting companion.

Back in town, he did some more shopping. Hratli had been making weapons in his magic forge, but had nothing worth using. Ormus had nothing, Asheara had nothing, and he hadn't found a single useful thing in Kurast. Maybe he should take something to Charsi, she said she could imbue an unenchanted item with magical properties... no, better save that for an emergency.

Mizor, Paige, and Bear returned to Kurast, and cleaned up the rest of the lower city, much more carefully. Bear was wonderful, smashing demons around; sometimes, they'd bounce off walls and Mizor could smash them again on the rebound. Moving in ever further, they came to a huge marketplace, and saw Zakarumites for the first time. Supposedly, these were warriors of faith and the light. They were ragged, starved, and empty-eyed, but died easily. Some small temples stood at each end of the bazaar; inside were huge hairy beasts, ghouls that summoned fire from the heavens, and hordes of mostly-naked women who attacked in a suicidal frenzy. Mizor wondered if they'd been nuns or something. In one temple, a black book stood on a lectern, though none of these people seemed up to any heavy reading. Alkor was happy to have it, though.

Under the bazaar were sewers, wide and extensive, but only one level deep. On a trip back to town, Hratli presented him with something that might replace Goreshovel: a Brutal Maul of the Bat. The weight felt good in his paws, but Mizor kept Goreshovel handy, just in case. Down in the sewer, a horde of burnt-black skeletons attacked, with one of those huge mummies, like the ones from Lut Gholein. Mizor charged up Maul bashing skellies, then ran around, took a swing at the Horadrim Ancient... and watched its head pop off and bounce into the water. Oooh. Mizor began to like this new maul. Onward they went, and Mizor began to like his new maul more and more; sure it took forever to connect, but the things it hit tended to go away very quickly. In a sump, a golden box contained a well-preserved human brain, firm to the touch. Ew.

By now he was thoroughly lost, so Mizor went up the first sewer outlet he could find and came out in the upper city. More Zakarumites attacked zealously, with priests who healed them and summoned cold blasts. All were quite undernourished, and died easily. The priests disintegrated in a puff of skin and bone fragments when struck down; Mizor wondered if any of them were really alive at all anymore. The upper city also had two little temples, with nothing especially exciting about them or the city itself. The center of Kurast was called Travincal, a city within the city, built on an island in the center of a large lake. A bare stone causeway led out over the water to the center of everything, where Mephisto had been imprisoned, and now ruled his captors.

Chapter 12

Approaching Travincal, Mizor saw several tall buildings that had once been grand. Neglected and falling apart, they surrounded a black tower that had fallen down long ago; Mephisto's soulstone was kept below it. Hratli had wondered why the Horadrim built a tower to house the stone, when they had every intention of burying it in a deep vault. Mizor just shrugged; he had seen too many things that made no sense to him, in so many parts of the world, to wonder at an unneeded building. The raised causeway had two small temples, filled with some of the same serpent people Mizor had seen in Lut Gholein. This land had supposedly produced the cat people who plagued Lut Gholein; how did the monsters get across the sea? An interesting question, but Mizor had more pressing matters before him.

The causeway led into the middle of Travincal, where 4 blood-stained altars had been raised before the symbol of the sun's light. Mizor doubted that the light appreciated them. More zealous followers of Zakarum filled the city, but these looked well-fed and muscular, not the half-starved wretches Mizor stomped so easily. Not that this saved them, or their priests. Also in the city were ghouls, who brought more burning rocks from the sky; if nothing else, they provided convincing proof of the corruption of Zakarum, to see them at war alongside the faithful. They went through the city, smashing religious nuts left, right, and center, and finally approached the blackened tower.

The high council of Zakarum itself was in the tower, ready to defend... what? They would not come out until Mizor approached quite close. After getting a look at them, Mizor was sure the reason was nothing less than shame. None of them even looked human anymore. Their bones and flesh were twisted in chaotic ways; limping and flailing grotesque limbs, making bizarre hooting noises, they rushed out with fearsome speed. Smashing them would be a mercy, and Mizor felt quite merciful, looking at them. It wasn't easy, their twisted bodies were tough and resilient, but with Paige's cold arrows chilling them, and a few well-placed shockwaves, Mizor and Bear broke their bones and sent them to their reward.

Inside the tower, a glowing glass orb sat on a short stand. Mizor didn't look too closely at it. Going over the bodies, Mizor found a flail, surely belonging to Khalim, and noted that only 3 of the dead things had high council medallions; weren't there more of them than that? Ormus confirmed that the number of councilors was 7. Sankekur, head of the church of Zakarum, now embodied Mephisto, so 3 council members were unaccounted for.

The flail was Khalim's, and Cain suggested putting it in the Horadric Cube, with the eye, heart, and brain. Together, they created a flail with spiked golden skulls for balls; an odd look for a weapon of light, but Mizor wasn't sure if anything wholesome could come out of the church, even if it was Khalim's. But the flail could be used to smash that orb, which was apparently what kept the Zakarum faithful from rising up against their masters. And here Mizor had thought they were all just nuts, they were actually being compelled by this thing. Well, maybe organized religion couldn't completely wipe out common sense, if Mephisto needed magic to control the church.

When he returned, Mizor tried bashing the orb with his Maul; it wouldn't break. Even Goreshovel's edge couldn't crack the glass. But Khalim's flail did, and as the orb shattered into a million pieces, the flail vanished in a flurry of golden motes of light, which rose up to the sky and spread out to the horizon. A vast groan went up, and a sigh as great as the land itself shook what was left of the tower to the ground. Outside, trees and vines were dying back everywhere, falling off the buildings and collapsing into little piles of earth. Good, clean earth, it looked like too; Mizor normally wasn't happy to see plants dying away. Then he noticed a hole in the back wall of the tower, where a stairway led down; it had been blocked before. Mizor was sure Mephisto would not wall up the way in before his brothers arrived; he was probably late again.

The vaults below were deep, and full of danger. The worst were the Flayer skeletons, with their habit of exploding; Mizor learned to let Bear handle those, with the help of a few shockwaves. Bear's fur must be thicker than Mizor's, the flying bone fragments didn't seem to bother him. On the lowest level, Mizor found the last three members of the council, the powerful ones; each attacked alone, but occupied his full attention. A group of Vampire Lord champions gave him some real trouble, before they found Mephisto himself.

He looked strange... misty and only semi-substantial, with a rotted torso, huge spindly arms, and a ragged spinal column hanging below as he floated along. Sankekur had seen better days. The mists around him seemed to be poisonous (poisonous hate?) and strong enough that Mizor couldn't eat hit points back faster than he lost them; strong stuff. Paige, for once, was wise enough to hang back and fill him with cold arrows, and Bear took the main brunt of Mephisto's attack; Mizor just had to re-summon him between blows. The lord of hatred died, after only two greater healing potions, almost a textbook battle.

Concluding thoughts:

Ok, Werebears aren't invulnerable. Get your mana drained, and you're in trouble.
Shockwave is your friend. It doesn't seem to improve in range, but you can change the spread of the wave by clicking closer to or further away from your character.
Some gauntlets with Increased Attack Speed would come in really handy, but I haven't found any good ones yet. They may be more important for making the bear fun to play than a good weapon or armor.
Players 8 does seem to increase elemental damage. When I'd played the game normally, I didn't even notice that undead Flayers explode when they die; on players 8, the damage is substantial.

Act 4

Chapter 13

So this is Hell. Mizor had never really given much thought to the place. The light above nurtured the green and growing places of the world, and good fertile soil made the beasts and man. Hell simply wasn't important for any of these things. But now, standing on the battlements of a heavenly fortress, staring out over an ash-gray steppe which stretching to the horizon, Mizor wondered, why is this place here? Everything out there was so... dead. Lifeless. Pointless. Punishing sinners? When a man's soul leaves the light, it ceases to exist; the reward of evil is nothingness. But if nothingness is a place, will there be evil souls there, being punished? Mizor wondered if he'd be meeting anyone he knew.

Deckard Can was in the Pandemonium fortress to greet Mizor and Paige. He hadn't come by the portal in Mephisto's Durance of Hate, he had been brought directly, on the wings of the angel Tyrael. The angel was hovering next to the fortress's fireplace. Though the fortress was obviously made of stone and iron, the ethereal brightness of the angel didn't seem out of place. Tyrael and Cain told Mizor what he needed to do. Further into the great circles of hell, beside a river of flame, the demons had a Hellforge, where they made many weapons. The soulstones which contained the Three's essences could be smashed there, and doing so would prevent them from entering the world of man ever again.

Tyrael also told Mizor of another angel in Hell. Long ago, an angel named Izual had led an assault on the Hellforge, and was captured by the demons. Under torture, Izual told the demons many of heaven's secrets, and as punishment, he was locked in the body of a powerful demon, so his spirit would be tortured forever in a shell of icy flesh. Why not just destroy him utterly, Mizor wondered? He didn't even utter the question, but Tyrael answered anyway. A soul cannot be destroyed, not that of man, not the demons, and not the angels. Nothing truly ends, things can be twisted and changed, or contained and limited, placed where they will do no harm, and perhaps learn something. Tyrael was sure that further torture would do Izual no good; surely, it had been long enough.

Though he would never admit to fear, Mizor felt that caution was in order before venturing out into Hell, so he and Paige went shopping. Two mortals were in the fortress, Jamella and Halbu, who seemed to be some kind of permanent staff. How two people kept the demons from overrunning the fortress, Mizor did not know; either they were very, very powerful, or the demons weren't interested in taking the fort. Maybe if they were that powerful, one of them could be persuaded to smash Mephisto's soulstone. They both had little shops; Mizor found some new gothic plate for himself, a new bow for Paige, and another Maul, this one with an enchantment to increase its swing speed. With that, Goreshovel seemed to have served its purpose; the Great Bear would surely forgive him, but he sold it. Maybe it would find its way into the hands of another who needed it more.

The steppes had nothing alive about them, not even soil. Everything was sharp lava and ash, except where it was stained with pools of blood and ichor, because once they got far from the fortresses' walls, there were creatures there. Huge demons with wings, poison dripping from their blades, tentacled crawlers who spit bodies as a kind of squishy artillery, and horrible faceless things that crawled on their backs, constantly whelping faceless worms. They came in endless waves, and died clawing and aching to hurt more. There were also people on the steppes, though some were hard to recognize They were the same gray color as the ash, empty of all life. Some were chained to pillars, some were on the ground like paving stones, some writhed in the eternal fires the demons used to light up the steppe. And some of them took pot-shots at Mizor, so they smashed them. If you die in hell, where do you go, Mizor wondered? To heaven, maybe, or to the world of men.

While wandering the steppes, Mizor kept an eye out for unenchanted items. Charsi had promised to enchant something for him with the Horadric Malus. Some gauntlets of speed would be nice, but he didn't find any nice gauntlets, just some greaves. Hmmm... some boots let you walk faster, and that would come in handy too, so Mizor decided to let Charsi try the greaves. The waypoint took him out of hell (Those waypoints are so handy! Must get some for home.) all the way back across the world to the Rogue's monastery. Everyone was very happy to see Mizor, and while Paige was gossiping madly with her old friends, Mizor gave the greaves to Charsi.

She came back with the enchanted greaves: 6% fire resistance, 10% faster hit recovery, +2 to life. Mizor had to admit he was underwhelmed. Charsi was sorry, but the Malus' effects where impossible to predict, and it took a month to recharge. As Mizor didn't have a month to spare, he had a bath, spent the night, and returned to Hell in the morning. Hell was very easy to get into, and out of, it seemed. But Mizor still needed some equipment.

Jamella had a stock of items, which she allowed others to gamble on. Gambling was about all Mizor could do with his money, and occasionally, he got something good, like the belt he was wearing. Looking over the items she had on the table, Mizor put his money down on a pair of greaves. Oooh. OOOOH. OH, WAOW. Oh, they were so pretty and shiny and nice! 20% faster walk, 16% cold resistance, 25% magic find, +22 stamina, and 20% enhanced defense. Feeling lucky, he tried a few more times, then got a plated belt. Oooh. OOOOH. OH, WAOW. Oh, that was pretty and shiny and nice too! +22 life, 34% enhanced defense, 20% lightning resistance, attacker takes damage of 5, 10% faster hit recovery. Mizor gambled on a bow for Paige; not great, but better than what she had. He gambled on a few suits of armor; nothing great. He gambled on a Maul. Oooh. OOOOH. Oh, WAOW. Oh, it was also so pretty and shiny and nice! 33% enhanced damage, +14 to attack rating, +7 to max damage, 6% mana stolen per hit, 20% increased attack speed. Soon, all of Mizor's money was gone. He didn't get anything else, but felt is position vis a vis Hell was much improved.

(Note: My luck with gambling seems to be fairly good, though this run was exceptional. Once, in an expansion game, I gambled on an amulet and got the Nokozan Relic. Pity I was playing a Necromancer, who didn't have much use for it, and I didn't know how to mule.)

Chapter 14

The high steppe was broken here and there by vast pits, with a reddish light shining up from far, far below. They looked exactly like the Zakarumites said Hell did. Mizor didn't look down any of them. Heights made him nervous. Glowing red heights made him even more nervous. According to the Zakarumites, there was a river of flame down there, where certain sinners burned forever. Only certain ones; Zakarumite lore placed every sinner where they ought to be, according to their favorite sins; heretics here, suicides there, liars inside that thing. Why they spent so much time thinking about Hell and what awaited bad people, and not about the world and what good people should be doing, was anyone's guess. Mephisto, Lord of Hate, probably had a lot to do with it.

Moving ever downwards, Mizor led his band through vast plains of ash and sadness. The land itself seemed to suck the soul dry, it was getting hard to remember anything green, or a day that brought joy. When a huge ice demon, unlike anything else they'd met, screamed "Save yourself!" and attacked, Mizor could hardly even care. The ice demon was alone, but it wasn't until halfway through the fight that Mizor realized this must be the imprisoned angel. He was getting depressed; the whole plain radiated despair, and it was getting to him. After a very long fight, the demon broke, and a being of pure, beautiful radiance rose from the fractured body... laughing. Mizor had never heard an angel laugh before, but he was almost completely positive they weren't supposed to laugh like that.

Izual laughed at Tyreal. He laughed at the Horadrim, all of mankind, every effort that had been taken to oppose the Three Prime Evils. The assault on the Hellforge was a sham, Izual was working with the Three to destroy the world. He had freely told the Three how to corrupt soulstones, and use them to gain powerful mortal bodies for themselves. With those bodies, they could freely walk the earth, and bring their followers to destroy mankind. Boy, that angel could gloat. Gloat, gloat, gloat. Mizor put up a portal halfway through his speech and went back to the fortress, just so he didn't have to listen anymore.

Tyreal, when he learned of Izual's words, seemed concerned. It's a little hard to see facial expressions through all the glowing, but he wasn't happy. "We may have been played for fools all along," he opined. What do you mean WE, angelface? Mizor almost said. Cain was troubled too, with the knowledge that the whole Horadrim order, founded to combat the Three, may have been nothing more than part of their long-range plan. For all their efforts and sacrifices, they had been nothing but pawns. Mizor could see that was a terrible blow for the old man. Tyreal's reward was a nice one, though: knowledge. Not many have experienced pure knowledge, shining directly into their befuddled minds and sweeping aside a thousand misconceptions. But there's nothing more sobering and focusing in existence; now, even Hell itself held nothing to fear.

Below the plains was a huge dead city; it looked like ruins, but there were many inhabitants, Undead mages, flying spider-like things, and bloated crawling beasts. They lived in huge cages, and a blasphemous parody of a church, hung with chains that could imprison a god. Looking at the church, Mizor wondered why he'd used the word "blasphemous", he shouldn't care about a church. Unfortunately, "blasphemous" was the only word that fit. The price of an inadequate vocabulary. The plains didn't go any further. To descend, they would have to go down one of the fiery cracks into the ground. The one with a built-in set of stairs was probably the best choice.

The stairs led down into a huge cave, where, lo and behold, there was a river of flame, with naked dead people writhing in it. It certainly was hellish; the stairs didn't even have a safety rail. Down on the rocks floating in the flames, giant leggy maggot-worms, just like the ones in Lut Gholein's deserts, brooded eggs. The muscly pinheads from Jerhyn's palace were there too. Were other familiar monsters here, like some of those corrupted Rogues? They paused to look in the river, and while Paige didn't recognize anyone, Mizor thought he did.

Mizor: "Aa! Grrmrullaahg!" (Hey! Grand Uncle Mallog!)

Grand Uncle Mallog: "AAAAAAHHHIIIIEEEHHHHAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"

Mizor: "Uaaalleeghaaauuwaallauhd!" (Uncle, Aunt Hinnadix wants to know where you hid the key to the cedar chest in the bedroom closet! You didn't tell her before you died!)

Grand Uncle Mallog: "WAAAIIIEEEHURSOMUCHAAAAOOOAIEAIEAIEEEEE!!!!!"

Mizor: "Hruf." (Well, fine. Be that way.)

Grand Uncle Mallog had always been an old bastard. Maybe he'd have been nicer if he'd seen this place. Actually, he probably wouldn't have been; he'd have just stood there gloating over all the suffering. Some people are like that, gloat and gloat and gloat like they think they're too good for it to ever happen to them. Mizor was reminded of a certain angel. Speaking of angels, they needed to concentrate on finding this Hellforge thing. This was a good place for a forge, the river sure produced enough heat.

The Hellforge was on a peninsula, jutting out into the hottest part of the flames; it felt warm enough to melt steel. Working the forge was a fat, pink demon who looked... rather familiar, like the Smith who had the Horadric Malus, only bigger. Maybe they were related. After a serious mauling, the demon fell dead, and the Hellforge was theirs.

Chapter 15

To destroy Mephisto's soulstone, Mizor placed it on the Hellforge, and smashed it with the Hell smith's hammer. His Maul couldn't break it, strangely, even though the corrupted soulstone was supposed to be fragile. The ways of magic are strange. Mephisto's soul was in the stone, and smashing it would release him back into Hell, but without any connection to the world, so he couldn't go back. The stone glowed in the heat of the forge, and with great pleasure, Mizor pounded it into tiny little flinders, releasing several dead spirits. Who were they, Mizor wondered? Souls the father of hate had devoured? They were gone too quickly to guess at their identity; hopefully, they would go on to whatever reward they deserved.

Among the soulstone fragments were several rocks of gem quality; a perfect sapphire, a flawless emerald, a flawless diamond, and a small demon skull, along with a Tal rune. Fascinating how one stone can produce such variety. After playing with his Horadric Cube for a while (such a useful toy!) Mizor had 5 perfect stones, all very large and shiny. It seemed to Mizor, after a moment's pondering, that this victory called for some sort of celebration. Maybe a trip back to Lut Gholein to talk with that nice fellow from Atma's? No, Paige didn't want to, and the angel seemed to disapprove, so he and Paige played marbles with his gems.

Mizor: "Rrrruf!" (Good shot!)

Paige: "Next time, I'm going after your big topaz."

Mizor: "Hauurrugahh?" (Who are you kidding?) (Shoots, get a ruby.)

Paige: "Why didn't go for the perfect skull?"

Mizor: "Haz." (I was.)

Paige: "Handy things, opposable thumbs." (Shoots, gets the perfect topaz.)

Tyrael: "Ahem."

Mizor: "Soeahuum?" (Should we ignore him some more?)

Paige: "He wants us to go back into Hell."

Mizor: "Ahhownel. Rrpprreen." (I don't like Hell. It's depressing.)

Paige: "Hellish, even."

Mizor: "Rrrrfll." (Infernal.)

Paige: "Stygian."

Mizor: "Prruushs." (Perditious.)

Paige: "Acherontic."

Mizor: "Rrr... rrgadrrul?" (Er... purgatorial?)

Paige: "Chthonic."

Mizor: "Hwin." (You win.)

Tyrael: "The time has come for you to hunt down and destroy Diablo himself."

Mizor: "Aaawwgiigahom?" (Can't we just give him a big wedgie and go home?)

Tyrael: "The demon lord Diablo is the youngest of the Three Great Evils, the Lord of Terror. He is responsible for the destruction of Tristram, and many other cities and towns, as well as the corruption of the last great hero who faced him. He is dedicated to the destruction of your entire world, and all that you know."

Mizor: "Owwunaarrb." (I can throw in a good dutch rub.)

Tyrael: "He is to be found in his Chaos Fortress, conferring with his closest advisors. They are protected by five seals, which you must open to reach the Lord of Terror himself."

Paige: "Wedgies for all! Except some of them might not wear underwear."

Mizor: "Hweerreenowrr?" (Do we really want to know about demon underwear?)

Tyrael: "It is imperative that you complete this task..."

Mizor: "RRWWAAAHHH! Hrrgo." (We know, already! Here we go.)

(Poof, away they went.)

Tyrael: "This does not bode well. Should their courage falter, we..."

Cain: "Please, worry not, great Tyrael. They have not lost their bravery. The trials they have faced were tiring, and they needed time to rest and restore their spirits."

Tyrael: "The trials that face them have hardly begun. If the mortal hero tires so quickly, what hope is there for your world?"

Cain: "They simply lack your experience and knowledge. The first trial a youth faces weighs heavily upon him, as he has known no greater burden."

Tyrael: "Perhaps you are right, mortal. Izual's betrayal has troubled me, and led me to doubt the wisdom of my course. They have brought so much suffering, and my actions may have caused still more. Could we simply be playing into their deception again?"

From the Hellforge, Mizor and Paige fought upriver, finding another angel hovering over the path. Hadriel? Who was Hadriel? Whoever he was, he repeated what Tyrael said about the Chaos Fortress, and wouldn't say anything more. The Chaos Fortress was an awful place, full of demons who threw curses and laughing skulls, and opening the seals unleashed Diablo's advisors. He had nasty advisors, who probably gave nasty advice. The skeleton guy did something really nasty to Paige, for which Mizor pounded him into splinters. Once his advisors had all been disposed of, the fortress shook, and a voice almost as frightening as Mephisto's said, "Not even death can save you from me." Paige shrugged. "Been there, done that."

Diablo was terrifying, and not just in looks. He killed Bear with a bolt of pinkish lightning, again and again, and the Heart of Wolverine spirit. Even with the Spirit, it was hard for Mizor's claws to penetrate the demon's thick scales, and his maul just seemed to bounce away. Paige kept her distance, chilling Diablo with her arrows; the harm they did seemed insignificant. Mizor spent much of his time simply re-summoning his minions, he could not match the Lord of Terror by himself. When Paige was killed by a lightning bolt meant for Mizor, things got really difficult. Mizor drank potion after potion, trying to keep breath in his body. Bear was little more than a distraction now, but a distraction that lasted long enough to summon the Heart of Wolverine again. Almost imperceptibly, Diablo began to weaken, and threw fiery waves and lightning frantically at his foes. Hammering away for all he was worth, Mizor drank his last potion, hoping he'd be able to run if Diablo didn't die soon enough. Diablo chose to kill Bear first, then the Spirit. That bought Mizor enough time. On the brink of death himself, Mizor crushed the back of the Lord of Terror's skull. It was over.

Concluding thoughts:

With players 8 on, Diablo is grinning evil death on wheels. I need more purple potions.
When Diablo went down, Mizor had 36 hit points left. Diablo's treasure was a Paladin-specific shield, Assassin claws, and gauntlets that added to Amazon skills. How does the game always know exactly what you're not looking for?
I hope the words I put in Tyrael's mouth were pompous enough for him.

Act 5

Chapter 16

That stupid angel. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Baal was still in the mortal world, he had not joined his younger brother in Hell. While Mizor was making his way down to Diablo's fortress, the last of the Three had recovered his soulstone, and with his power complete, raised up an army and marched into the northern mountains. Tyrael knew perfectly what was hidden there, and that Mizor's people were sworn to protect it at all costs. So, once he discovered this, why hadn't Tyrael told Mizor? Diablo could sit in his fortress and raise armies forever, he didn't matter as long as the secret was intact. But if Baal fought his way into the sacred mountain, defeating Diablo and Mephisto would be meaningless.

Mizor grumbled and swore and snarled all the way into Harrogath, the Barbarian citadel which protected the least inaccessible slope of Mount Arreat. Of course, Mizor had never been there before. Druids were not welcome in Harrogath, they had severed their ties with the Barbarian tribes centuries ago, and only Barbarians are allowed on Arreat, under penalty of death. In his present mood, Mizor would have welcomed a fight, but they did not get one. The citadel was strangely empty. Looking around, fur bristling with exasperation, Mizor heard the clash of weapons and cries of pain, but they were faint and far away. Wait, there was someone moving over there. An old woman.

Malah: "I, Malah, welcome you to Harrogath. Another warrior will be very helpful in the siege, and when we must, which will be soon, we can eat your pet bears."

Bear: "Hwruff?"

Mizor: (sigh...)

Paige: "Do I look that authoritative? The tall one's the boss. A Druid. Skinchanger. You know?"

Malah: "Oh, no, the Druids would not come to Harrogath. They will not come to Arreat until the final assault, which heralds the end of the world."

Mizor: "Wwiresess." (This lady needs glasses.)

Paige: "Don't you people kill lowlanders who come up here?"

Malah: "We kill anyone who comes here, that is our duty. We defend the sacred mountain against all who would even look upon it, for no one knows by what foul means evil may creep in."

Mizor: "Rrrrowllgehhs." (I told you Barbarians are a bunch of meat-heads.)

Paige: "Look, is there someone in charge we can talk to?"

Malah: "Qual-kehk is our senior man-at-arms. The last of our elders is Nihlathak. All of the others sacrificed themselves to place a spell over the citadel, which has prevented Baals forces from overrunning us."

Paige: "Ok, that explains why the place is still standing."

Malah: "Rather than the quick death of the sword, we are condemned to the slow death of starvation under siege. While Baal's forces cannot enter, we cannot leave to find food except under their blades and missiles. If you can help us, please, I beg of you, see Qual-kehk."

The central square had a well, Deckard Cain, and a huge man in bronze armor with a flowing white beard. He recognized Mizor for what he was, and was not happy about it, but there wasn't much he could do. His warriors were either dying in the field, or having their broken limbs and lacerated flesh mended by Malah. More warriors were desperately needed, even if they were outlanders, to catch Baal. The demon lord, seeing the spell protecting the citadel, had merely laughed and gone around it, leaving a token force to lay siege while he went up the mountain. Qual-kehk's forces had been unable to break the siege; Baal had great machines, with living flesh laced through steel and bronze, hurling magical bombs. His forces seemed numberless, and feasted on the dead all night while the Barbarians were lucky to come home with a few rabbits. Trapped in Harrogath, they couldn't even reach Baal, much less stop him from reaching Arreat's holy summit.

Off to one side of the square, a sickly-looking man stood sneering beside a fire. He looked older than Qual-kehk; this must be Nihlathak. On first sight, Mizor felt like smashing his head off and pounding him into jelly. But the others in town might take the open murder of their last remaining elder amiss, so Mizor simply refrained from speaking to him. A huge man, wider than Mizor but not nearly so tall, was the town's blacksmith; he told Mizor that the way to gain Qual-kehk's trust was to lift the siege by killing Shenk, the general overseer. He was leading from the rear, behind all the catapults. Gaining Qual-kehk's trust was not high on Mizor's list of priorities. His people were the true defenders of Arreat, the Barbarian tribes had chosen the wrong path centuries ago. But Baal must be stopped, for no better reason than the fact that he had no right to defile the sacred mountain with his presence.

Outside Harrogath's gates, the demons had taken over some old fortifications the Barbarians had built, and Qual-kehk's few remaining warriors fought singly against large groups of demons. It was pathetic. Stomping his way up the mountain, Mizor began collecting Barbarians, none of whom said a word of thanks, that would have hurt their precious pride. All of them eventually died, usually by charging headfirst into a group of demons far too large for them to handle. Some were killed by the catapults, which simply weren't a threat if you moved quickly enough. Moving steadily upslope, smashing catapults and collecting rabbits (there were a lot of very cute bunny rabbits hopping around in the middle of the war zone), they eventually found Shenk, a huge, corpulent, bloated pile of squealing blubber cowering behind a crowd of minions. The only difficulty in killing him was pounding through all the thick layers of fat. They practically had to strip him to the bone to reach vulnerable spots. Without exception, it was the single most disgusting kill Mizor had ever had to make; with any luck, he'd never see another such creature ever again.

Chapter 17

Beyond the hills outside Harrogath, a frigid, windy highland held Mount Arreat's first waypoint. After returning to town, Qual-kehk sought Mizor out. The Barbarians Mizor had met spoke well of him when they returned to town. This was a bit surprising, they had seemed like a tight-lipped bunch while Mizor was saving their skins. Maybe it was just their wounded pride, seeing Mizor and Paige wade through Baal's forces, accomplishing what they could not. To keep peace, Mizor decided not to tell Qual-kehk that breaking the siege was actually fairly easy. He'd even been able to restock most of his potion supply.

The return of living, healthy warriors (as well as enough rabbits to feed everyone) should have cheered Qual-kehk, but he gave no sign. Instead, he imperiously informed Mizor that he had another test for him. Many of his men had been captured alive, and were being held in cages the Barbarians themselves had built in their highland fortifications. Not that they were going to be ransomed or anything; they were destined to be lunch. If Mizor freed them all... then perhaps Qual-kehk might be impressed. A little. Well, of course, impressing Qual-kehk was so terribly important, Mizor was perfectly willing to forget all about that business with Baal and hop right to it.

Grumbling, Mizor went back to the waypoint and started up the mountain. Immediately, they were set upon by... not the little sword swingers, but even littler teleporting guys with big foreheads. And boy, were they annoying! Mizor would run up to one, it would poot away and reappear elsewhere, throwing little balls of energy. They didn't hurt much, but it took forever to run them down. Hitting one with a shockwave first helped, but was very tiring. Paige was having a lot more luck with her bow; handy things, opposable thumbs. The teleporting imps were more dangerous when they had another creature to work with, huge, heavily armored horned beasts with a box up on their backs. Up there, they had magic things that shot jets of flame, and could hurt you if you stayed in one place.

Slowly making their way up the frigid highland slopes, they came to a line of fortifications, with walls, towers, and trenches full of sharp wooden stakes. They looked very old, like they'd been prepared centuries before. The imps had flame jetters up in the towers, but they were easy enough to knock over. In the middle of the fort, a fragile-looking cage held a bunch of men, who were crying out for help. The imps and some of the little sword-swingers were trying to kill them as Mizor approached; he obviously couldn't let that happen, so Mizor charged in and bashed into the cage wall. Ouch. Sturdier than it looked. The door wasn't so well attached, and once it was gone, the Barbarians left through a town portal. Hmmm. The prison must prevent them from reading portal scrolls with the door closed; where they'd hidden a scroll from the demons, Mizor didn't want to think about.

The highlands were extensive, but Mizor just led his company upslope, killing imps every step of the way. They were no real threat, but so annoying, Mizor wondered if their sole reason for existing was to irritate heroes. After fighting through some more forts, and freeing more prisoners, they found a long-overdue waypoint. Qual-kehk was grateful for the rescue of his men; he almost smiled, and gave Mizor some rune stones he wasn't using. Mizor couldn't see any use for them either; they did spell one of the sacred words, but in a shield, and shields were of little use to him. One of the rescued Barbarians offered his services.

Karnac: "Look at these muscles! (FLEX!!!) Look at that power! Why are ye takin' a wee slip of a girl with ye against the forces o' Hell? This is a job for men!"

Mizor: (Does his best to convey how unimpressed he is.)

Paige: "How good a shot are you? Can you fire chilling arrows?"

Karnac: "That's sissy stuff! Look at this!" (Breaks a solid beam in half with his head.)

Mizor: "Ageuusdrred." (Paige knows better uses for her head.)

Karnac: "What was that?"

Paige: "He says I know better things to do with my head."

Karnac: "No, he didn't. I don't know what he said, but it wasn't that!"

Mizor: (Raises an eyebrow.) "Oossnmmrrre?"

Karnac: (Looks confused.) "Could ye repeat that, maybe?"

Mizor: (Pats Paige's shoulder and grins.)

Paige: "Looks like I've got job security."

Mizor: "Hhwaraaoges?" (Do you want to go back to the Rogues?)

Paige: "Nah. Kashya's a bitch. Besides, none of them like to go shopping as much as you."

Beyond the highlands was a flat plateau, with more fortifications, imps, sword-swingers, and a lot of huge, fat commander beasts. This must be some sort of staging area, to have all these officers. Most of the fat bastards were no challenge, but they could whip their tiny minions into a frenzy; the minion's body actually swelled up with explosive energy. The resulting boom killed the little guy, of course, though this didn't upset them too much. Mizor didn't like it at all, that suicide blast really hurt him, but not Bear or Paige. On one return trip to town, Malah had a talk with Paige.

Malah: "There is a matter which I hesitate to speak of..."

Paige: "No sweat. Do you need some more superheals?"

Malah: "It is about Anya, the daughter of our chief elder. Her father sacrificed himself to place the protective ward around the citadel, and Anya was the only one left of the chiefly line. But she has been missing for some time."

Paige: "Well... a lot of people look like they're missing... I mean, a city needs more women than I've seen around here."

Malah: "One night, just before your arrival, I overheard her and Nihlathak arguing about her father's death. The next morning she was gone."

Mizor: "Rrrrr..."

Paige: "What, that pale skinny guy? With the bones sewn into his clothes? I don't know why anyone wants anything to do with him, he gives me the creeps."

Malah: "He has his own story of what became of her, and claims that she is dead. The last daughter of the chief of Harrogath would not die easily."

Paige: "Chief's daughters die as easily as anyone else, that's not hard to imagine."

Malah: "I know that she is alive! You must find Anya, she knows many things which may be of use to you."

Mizor: "Hrrukn?" (Like Cain?) (Rolls his eyes.)

Paige: "Uh... yeah. We'll talk to Nihlathak. And find Anya."

Mizor: "Rrrrrwseor." (Or what's left of her.)

Paige: "Hush."

Chapter 18

Mizor: "Aawwnakaakl." (I don't want to talk to Nihlathak.)

Paige: "Come on. Be nice to Malah."

Mizor: "Aawmmsls." (I don't like the way he smells.)

Paige: "Well, I don't like the way you smell. I don't like the way anyone up here smells. But I've got to admit, Nihlathak does smell pretty strange."

Mizor: "Sssmmrzbee." (He smells like a zombie.)

Paige: "Kind of. He smells more like a rat."

Mizor: "Rrrrmass." (I've met many much nicer rats.)

Paige: "They were probably poorer conversationalists. Look, Malah is old, even if we get Baal, she's not long for the world. It would be nice if she at least knew what happened to this Anya person. Someone should get some peace of mind, somehow."

Mizor: "Hwwme?" (What about me?)

Paige: "You get to make peace. Hello, elder Nihlathak."

Nihlathak: "Well, well, our little siege-breakers. So kind of you to deign to visit. How may I be of service to our illustrious guests?"

Mizor: "Rrrr..."

Paige: "We were kind of wondering, about someone missing from the citadel..."

Nihlathak: "Many are missing from our city. You may have heard something about them being dead. This happens, during war. However, we are not eager to repopulate with nosy outlanders, or their trained animals."

Mizor: (Oh so dearly and desperately wants to smash his smirking face in.)

Paige: "We heard about someone specific... named Anya?"

Nihlathak: "You've been talking with Malah, haven't you? What has she been telling you?"

Mizor: "Whaaookassd." (That you're a creepy, sneaky bastard.)

Nihlathak: "Never mind, I know what she's been saying. Yes, Anya. The darling daughter of our dear departed high chief. A true princess. She and I had an argument about 'daddy', and she stormed off when I did not agree that dying was the best thing I could have done for our land. Unfortunately, her temper led her outside the gates. She was a headstrong girl, and must have thought the invading army would never dare disturb her in her royal sulk."

Paige: "She stormed off outside the gates? She opened the gates?"

Mizor: "Hhhrronnaarnng." (Headstrong and arm-strong.)

Nihlathak: "I am quite sure she is now a nutritional supplement. Despite what Malah thinks, a poor temper is not a sign of an indomitable spirit. And neither will save you from a blade."

Further conversation seemed pointless. Mizor thought the rats were better company. With no idea what Anya looked like, they could never identify her among the mangled corpses outside the gates, so she might actually be there. But Nihlathak's saying she was dead was good evidence that she was really alive, in Mizor's opinion. Back on the plateau, they fought up to a glacial wall, solid ice blocking the path. At the base of the glacier was a small cave, and an urn. An evil urn, it looked like. What was so evil about it? When Mizor opened it, he found Tancred's Hobnails and a few large spiders, which wandered around on the ice and looked very sad before they froze to death.

Going under the glacier, into a long passage made of beautiful crystalline ice, Mizor looked at the Hobnails. They weren't great, but he'd found many artifacts of name on Arreat. The Arctic Furs (where else?), Death's Guard, Isenhart's Case, Angelic Raiment, the General's Tan Do Li something... the Barbarians had collected a lot of legendary equipment. There were bull-men under the glacier, heavily armored and swinging huge axes, one in each hand. Was there no shortage of evil animal people? More bulls appeared when Mizor opened an evil urn; maybe that's what was evil about them, the bulls were genuinely dangerous.

Down at the very base of the ice, by a river of meltwater, Mizor found another evil urn. After clearing the immediate area, he opened it, summoning up a lightning enchanted Yeti, but Bear ran off and found an extra-fast minotaur at the same time. Stupid bear. Stupid bear, have to fight both packs, stupid bear, don't die Paige, here's a potion, stupid bear, stay away from the lightning enchanted one, there goes the Spirit...

Paige: "Dammit, stupid bear!"

Mizor: "Mrrr?"

Paige: "No, the other one!"

Bear: "Rrrr!"

Paige did not die, and neither did Bear, though it might have taught him some sense. Further up the river, near where it came out from under the ice, they found a huge pack of Yetis, led by a chief. Bear, by way of apology, killed the chief Yeti, Frozenstein, all by himself. Paige even scratched his ears to show he was forgiven. The Yeti were guarding someone, a Barbarian woman frozen in a shell of ice; it was Anya, and Nihlathak had done this to her to get her out of the way. Malah quickly whipped up a mega-thawing potion, and Anya went back to town through a portal. Everyone uses those things these days.

Malah: "Bless you and thank you, great hero. This is an ancient scroll of resistance I had at the bottom of an old trunk. I hope it will be of use to you."

Mizor: "Waaahgh! Waahttaihm?" (Wow! Can I go through your attic sometime?)

Anya: "And thank you, hero, for rescuing me. Here is a token of my appreciation, I had it custom made for you, by Larzuk." (Hands Mizor a fairly useless rare wolf pelt.)

Mizor: (Gee, I thought only we knew how to make these things.)

Anya: "Nihlathak negotiated with Baal. In exchange for sparing Harrogath, Nihlathak is going to give Baal our most holy totem, which would allow him to pass the summit of Mount Arreat unchallenged! He could just walk in!"

Mizor: "RRRRRAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Anya: "Through this red portal, Nihlathak's... (Mizor grabs Paige and runs through the portal.) Uh, well, never mind, you'll find out."

Dammit, dammit, dammit! The Nephilim were at the summit, and Mizor had been counting on them to buy some time, surely they'd be able to at least delay Baal for a while. But if Baal didn't need to get through their challenge, and Mizor did, he'd never catch him! Maybe the Guardians would be sensible and ignore the totem, and attack Baal anyway. Maybe they'd be kind enough to let Mizor in, despite not having the totem. And maybe Mizor could grow wings and fly up to the summit, if he found enough magic pixie dust.

Beyond the red gate was Nihlathak's temple. The place was just dripping with zombies, real lively ones too. They'd even get up to a run occasionally, and you never knew when they were really dead for good. Down at the bottom of the temple, they found Nihlathak, with a crew of little sword-swingers and a huge group of Succubi. Mizor didn't ask what he was doing with so many Succubi -- you'd think one would be enough for any man -- he charged.

When the little guys started dying, Nihlathak laughed (a lot like Izual laughed) and the corpses started popping like overripe blueberries. Dammit, he wasn't an elder, he was a necromancer! Cursed filth-drenched unnatural unsanitary necromancer desperately needs to get some death of his own, and Mizor was just the one to dish some high grade carnage out, except that those corpse explosions hurt a lot... so he ran around, feeling no compunction about blindsiding necro-boy at all. Soon, even without Mizor on his scrawny behind, Nihlathak ran out of corpses, saw the light of reason, and kicked the bucket in a truly spectacular way. Hell opened up beneath him, stripped the flesh from his bones, and sucked him down into the inferno's maw. Unfortunately, he probably wasn't headed for real punishment down there. Most likely some kind of desk job. The Ancient's totem wasn't in the temple. Nihlathak had already given it to Baal.

Chapter 19

Well, that's that. All hope is lost. Mizor knew far too much to think otherwise. The college of Druids was certain, inside Mount Arreat is the Worldstone, the very soul of Nature herself. How it was, no one could say, but it was, and that was the only thing that was important. Very soon, it would no longer be. Baal would enter unchallenged, leaving hordes of demons behind him to slow any pursuit to a crawl, and then... if the Worldstone was a soulstone, like the small ones used to contain the Three, Baal would corrupt it. Corrupting Nature at her very heart... the world was doomed, utterly doomed.

Sitting in Harrogath, drawing a bucket of icy water from their well, Mizor wondered if there was anything stronger to drink in town. When the end came, he didn't want to be awake and aware for it. He'd seen so much terror since he began the quest, surely he was entitled to a little peaceful oblivion before death swept over them all. Paige didn't seem to think so, she kept prodding him with her bow and telling him they had to go get Baal. Mizor explained that there was no point, but she just wouldn't listen; it was beginning to irritate him. They had nearly come to blows when Cain wandered by.

Cain: "Hello! I have been speaking with Anya. Ah, what a fine example of feminine strength. She reminds me of the priestesses of Zakarum I knew in my youth. They don't take vows of chastity, you know."

Mizor: "Wumph." (Whatever.)

Paige: "Cain, please, tell him we need to go! Baal has to be stopped."

Cain: "Of course he must be stopped. Even if Baal is able to pass the summit of Mount Arreat, he must not be given time within it. Though neither Anya nor you will tell me exactly what is inside Mount Arreat, surely, Baal will need time to do what he wants." Mizor: "Hmmm..."

Cain: "Baal has not had so much time as Diablo, and it is possible that even now, you will be able to catch him before he reaches his goal. You have been no more than one step behind him for so long, surely, you can overtake him with a little more effort."

Mizor: (Stands up.) "Rrrassoreaie!" (It's that or sit here and die!)

Paige: "Yeah! Come on!"

Off to the waypoint they went. Through the crystalline passage, they found a narrow trail under the glacier, which led out onto a high frozen tundra. They were all running now, shooting and mauling and chomping their way through hordes of monsters. There were big frozen creeping things that chilled them with their breath, more minotaurs and icy-cold zombies, and more imps than you could smash in one lifetime, though Mizor tried. Some of the little ones wound up getting eaten alive, literally, Mizor was that upset. Maybe Mizor, Paige, and everyone else in all creation would die. But what was the point of sitting and waiting for it? This way, there was a chance, and even if he didn't make it in time, Mizor could still smash Baal for fun, or revenge.

Another tunnel under a second glacier led steeply upwards. On a trip back to town, Qual-kehk spoke with Mizor, to warn him of what was ahead. The Ancient Ones would surely test him, before allowing him into the Worldstone chamber, and they were mighty indeed. While Qual-kehk had never dared venture to the summit himself, a very few others had; some now served within the Worldstone Keep, others, no one ever heard from again. The Ancients were the ancestors, and the gods, of all the Barbarian clans; only honorable combat would prove Mizor worthy to enter their realm.

Mizor: (Looks at Paige.)

Paige: "Should I stay home?"

Qual-kehk: "What do you mean?"

Paige: "You said honorable combat. Is hired help honorable?"

Qual-kehk: (Laughs.) "Your presence will make little difference to the Ancient Ones."

Paige: "Gee, thanks a lot."

Qual-kehk: "You are entirely welcome. Now go, and die bravely, if that is your fate."

How reassuring. After clawing their way through the tunnel, they came out onto the summit of Mount Arreat. The view from the summit was awesome; rings of fortifications surrounded the mountain on all sides, covering hundreds of square miles. On the summit, there was a gate, closed and locked, and an altar. Surrounding the altar were three statues, covered with snow; they looked like they were made out of solid metal, tarnished with incredible age. If these were the Ancients, Baal hadn't even taken the time to stop and spit in their faces. No, wait, he did. Blech.

There was writing on top of the altar; Mizor moved to brush away the snow, but when he touched the altar, three deep voices suddenly spoke up. "We are the spirits of the Nephalem, the Ancient Ones. We have been chose to guard sacred Mount Arreat, wherein the Worldstone rests. Few are worthy to stand in its presence; fewer still can comprehend its true purpose. Before you enter, you must defeat us." With that, the three statues burst open in a flash of golden fire, and three huge Barbarians leapt to the attack.

Mizor sighed. The name is Nephilim! Barbarians. Even their gods can't spell their own name right. But, gods or not, they were rather large and fast, and as the one with the sword spun through like a wolverine on speed, it seemed to Mizor that these guys were serious. Bear squared off with one swinging a halberd. Paige was being targeted by Mr. Cuisinart, so Mizor tossed her a potion and moved to distract him. A maul to the noggin makes for a good distraction. The other Ancient stood to one side, screaming and tossing tiny little axes.

After a short time, it became obvious that the axe thrower was the brains of the outfit, and his screaming was having some positive effect on the other two. Of course, being a weak support unit is about the same as painting a nice, big, fat bullseye on yourself. Mizor made him his new special friend, and Mr. Yelper ran like a scared little bunny. Barbarians. All this talk of honorable combat, and they scamper all over the place. Mizor pounded his head in. The swordsman went spinning through again, so Paige needed another potion, but he went down quickly once Mizor could afford to give him his full attention. And Bear beat the fellow with the halberd to death while Mizor wasn't looking. Good Bear!

The Nephilim (no matter what they say) congratulated Mizor, and told him Baal was in the Worldstone Keep, on his way to corrupt the Worldstone. So why didn't you do anything about it when you had a chance, Mizor snarled under his breath. Some gods you are, paying attention to some stupid little totem when a demon lord is strolling by, for crying out loud. Mortals, at least, have more sense. The gates to the keep opened, and Mizor went in.

Chapter 20

Inside the Worldstone Keep, the halls were small, with strong stone columns and wide corridors. Bear sniffed at a dead man lying on the floor -- at least, it was probably a man, all that was left was part of a leg, and an arm clutching a saber. The floor was tiled, sort of, with huge slabs of stone interlocked like a god's jigsaw puzzle, but here and there a shard of glowing, fiery crystal had thrust up through the pattern. A very bad sign. They pressed on.

Inside the keep were several tombs, probably those of the greatest Barbarian chiefs. A few living Barbarians had been here, but now there were only Minotaurs, little sword-swingers, and some of the flying bimbettes Mizor had encountered in other interior areas. They didn't seem to like going outside, maybe they weren't wearing enough for the cold weather, though that didn't stop the little exploding guys.

On a trip back to Harrogath, Mizor found that his war chest was overflowing with gold. He doubted he'd be able to buy anything better than what he had, but Paige might want something, so he went to Anya to gamble. After a few tries, he got a very nice rare crown. The enchantments weren't anything he or Paige really needed, but someone might like it... and he hadn't repaid the Great Bear for the gift of his current hat. Larzuk put a socket in it, and Mizor offered it up. With something that sounded uncomfortably like "Oooh, shiny!" it vanished. Strange. Another gamble netted Paige a new bow, a Static Long War Bow of Damage Amplification. That should be useful.

At the lowest level of the Keep, Mizor paused, and wondered again why everyone who builds a fortress is so fond of cellars. He'd gotten used to it, but what was with all the deep, deep dungeons, anyway? After clearing the level, they found a columned hallway, leading up to a dais, on which sat... guess who? And he was laughing. All the evil guys laugh, either before you spray their brains all over a wall, or after. The ones who do it after are the worst.

Baal: "Pathetic fool! This race was won before you were born!"

Mizor: "AWWWAAHAAP!" (AAAH, SHADDUP!!)

In they charged, but Baal just laughed and threw down a big yellow ball of lightning. It burst open, and a pack of little demon shamans appeared, squeaking and tossing fireballs. How cute. STOMP! Then Baal tossed down a group of Greater Mummies, with an attendant crowd of Burning Dead Mages firing cold blasts. STOMP! STOMP! Stinky, the big one, had nasty poison breath, Mizor actually had to drink an antidote potion. Baal followed this performance up with a group of Kurast Councilmen. Mizor was beginning to detect a trend. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Next was a bunch of the big demon guys from hell. Mizor flicked them away with his index finger. Even Paige snickered.

What would the next pack be? Some of the Minotaurs? That might be bad. Maybe the fat whip-wielding guys, that wouldn't be too bad. Baal tossed out a group of... things. They were big ugly things, sure, but looked like nothing they'd ever seen before, with big toothy jaws, dead pink coloring, and entirely too many legs and arms. Well, something that clumsy-looking can't be a serious threat, so...

STOMP!!!!

Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch ouch said Mizor, scampering out of the throne room like a widdle bunny wabbit, with his tail between his legs and a big yellow stripe blazing down his back. Paige came flying out soon after, leaving a nice bloody imprint on the wall.

Mizor: "Hwraooaopy." (So nice of you to drop by.)

Paige: "Oh, my spine..."

Mizor: (Pours superheal down Paige's throat.) "Hoaadadee?" (How about a strategy?)

Paige: "What, you don't want to just stuff our bodies down their throats and hope they choke on us?"

Instead, they opted for the less-fatal tactic of divide and conquer. Resummoning Bear, Mizor went just far enough into the throne room to attract one or two, then ran back to Paige and stunned them with a Shockwave when they came close. Getting back into the throne room, they were just in time to see Baal's unlovely posterior vanish into a gate. There was nothing to do but follow.

The gate led to a small chamber in the very heart of Arreat, filled with the most beautiful light... except where the giant, perfect crystal suspended in the center of the room was broken. Chips the size of houses flew away from its immensity, their perfect edges slicing through the stone walls. A few bits of gold were scattered here and there, but Baal took higher priority. And there he was, with one finger resting on the Worldstone. Laughing.

After all the trouble he'd given the world, you'd think he could put up a better fight. Mizor smashed and mauled him, resummoning Bear to take the brunt of his attack. Baal's only strategic move was to teleport next to Paige and try to eviscerate her, but she, blessed girl, had apparently learned something and ran behind Mizor every time he tried it. When Baal died, Mizor danced up and down on his puking, wretching corpse with abandon until Tyrael, who'd shown up just when he could be at his most useless, told him to stop.

The Worldstone was corrupted. In its present state, all its energy would soon drain away and it would become a conduit for dark energies to enter the world. If the Worldstone were allowed to exist, then Mount Arreat would become a permanent entry point from hell, so Tyrael had to destroy it.

Mizor: "WO! Ahhuualaeeor!" (NO! You can't destroy the soul of the world!)

Tyrael: "You do not understand the true nature of the Worldstone; the force of nature and the living things you cherish will not suffer by its loss."

Mizor: "Hrrr?! Whaawuuais?" (What?! Then why'd we go through all this?)

Tyrael: "There is more on heaven, and on earth, than is dreamt of in your philosophy. Though I cannot predict the consequences of destroying the stone, green things will still grow, and life and death will triumph, so long as guardians of the light come forth when needed. Go now, I have prepared a portal to take you to safety."

Mizor: "Bub..." (But...)

Tyrael: "There is nothing more that can be done. Go."

Concluding thoughts:

I wonder how many other people thought that Tyrael's final appearance must be another demonic trick? It would be so like these demons to imitate Tyrael and not destroy the Worldstone, keeping it intact for the coming invasion.
Werebears are not so bad, but I've found I enjoy other kinds of melee fighters more. Maul and Shockwave are very effective, but having so little variety in your attacks can be a little dull. Hunger works if you don't have a weapon with life leech, but don't put more than one point in it. Fire Claws is very weak unless you invest a lot in it, and there are better things to invest in. The slow speed running speed of the bear also makes most tactics difficult to employ, aside from "wade in and smash."
Players 8 does make the game more difficult, but only certain sections. It's harder at the start, then becomes much easier through act II, and harder again at the end of act III, when you start running into more elemental attacks. Baal is less dangerous than Diablo in players 1, but in players 8 he's pathetic. I spent a lot of time making all those purple potions, and never got to use them, dammit!
Muling is probably better for my peace of mind than the character's survival. It's frustrating to find some wonderful item with a character who doesn't need it, when another character would give a kidney for it. It's genuinely painful to have to sell it for far less than it's worth. But knowing it's sitting on the mule can take the suspense out of the game while you're playing; you know you'll get something good once you hit level 23, or whatever.

This has been fun, but its time to put Mizor to rest. He deserves a vacation, and I have to admit I'm getting a little bored of playing him. The werebear is strong and capable, but not very flexible; he seems to be a character with only one realistic attack strategy. When that strategy works, it works very well, but when it doesn't, he has nothing good to fall back on. Next on the tour is a character well known for her flexibility, the Sorceress. Not that kind of flexibility, you perverts, I mean her combat abilities.

Epilogue

Stony, Patriarch Mizor (Diablo: IncGamers)

Source

Stony's Grand Tour was originally posted in Diablo: IncGamers (formerly Diabloii.net) Single Player Forum. While almost all original posts are long gone, Vesper, one of our Community Members, contacted him and was given the original documents, and permission to reproduce them at the Amazon Basin. Onderduiker 11:54, 29 August 2012 (PDT)

@@ Line 149: / Line 149: @@
 #Muling can make the game much easier, if you have the items to mule.  Having Goreshovel was a real boon.  That axe seems almost made for a Werebear, and not having it would have made the act much more challenging.
 <br>
-<br>
 ==Act 2==
@@ Line 292: / Line 292: @@
 #I tried putting an unenchanted Maul on Mizor, to see how slow he was normally.  Without Goreshovel, I would probably given up on him in frustration, he's so slow.  The Werebear may be more item-dependent than the wolf, not to survive, but to be entertaining.
 <br>
-<br>
 ==Act 3==
@@ Line 395: / Line 395: @@
 #Players 8 does seem to increase elemental damage.  When I'd played the game normally, I didn't even notice that undead Flayers explode when they die; on players 8, the damage is substantial.
 <br>
-<br>
 ==Act 4==
@@ Line 527: / Line 527: @@
 #I hope the words I put in Tyrael's mouth were pompous enough for him.
 <br>
-<br>
 ==Act 5==

Difference between revisions of "Mizor"

Revision as of 17:36, 29 August 2012

Contents

Act 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Act 2

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Act 3

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Act 4

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Act 5

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Source

Navigation menu

Search