Difference between revisions of "Tearlach (Chapter 7)"

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The walls of the Rogue cathedral were intact, but that was all the good you could say about the building.  The tall windows were smashed, the thick, heavy doors covered with gashes and bloodstains, and bodies lay scattered in the gardens.  Powerful demons doubtless lurked inside, so Tearlach stomped up to the doors and pulled them open, letting the sun shine in.  Immediately, demons attacked.  The first group was what the Rogues called "devil dogs," a stupid name as they looked nothing like dogs.  They were scaly, walked on two tiny legs, slouched so much their arms dragged on the ground, and had huge heads with protruding foreheads and jaws.  If an opponent proved too tough, they would retreat and spit balls of lightning from their gaping mouths, a move Tearlach had become very familiar with.
 
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Behind the big-heads was a crowd of demon shamans, with their retinue.  Tearlach had just about had his fill of these sniveling worms.  They wouldn't stand and fight, hid behind bigger beasts whenever they had a chance, and died in one hit.  There was no honor in killing them, but they came endlessly.  Even demon lords must be contemptible things if they think hiding behind walls of these creatures will save them.  Do they think to prick a man to death with a thousand tiny knives?  Charging in with a fearsome battle cry, Tearlach chopped them to bits one by one, while they squeaked and scampered and tossed useless little balls of fire.  When he found this "Andarial", she was going to pay for all the trouble she'd put him through.
 
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Past rows of smashed benches, he found the main altar, now drenched in gore.  Boiling blood filled a basin to one side... with more demons hiding behind it.  Just for a challenge, Tearlach decided to try seeing how far he could send their heads flying with a single chop.  None got very far; his power was fine, but the technique needed work.  While he was amusing himself in this fashion, Itonya started yelling: a glowing green skeleton was approaching, throwing globs of poison.  Another skeleton wizard; doesn't this demon lordess have anything left?  He pounded it to powder.  Even then, it stank.
 
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Soon, the cathedral was empty of all evil, save for a lingering stench and some stains on the floor.  Looking around, Tearlach had to admit there was a kind of grandeur to the place; the southlanders might be small, but they could build a big building.  The side galleries had some interesting pictures on the walls, showing some kind of cataclysmic celestial event, a mighty battle, and the fall of a kingdom.
 
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"That's the founding of the Order of the Sightless Eye," Itonya said.  "Ages ago, this land was the property of a greedy king.  He abused all his subjects, but especially the women.  He really hated women; kind of like you, I guess.  The Goddess' eye appeared in the sky, with a great fiery tail, and the king fell in his next war."
 
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"Don't be stupid," Tearlach said.  "Why would an eye have a tail?"
 
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Itonya glared at him in irritation.  "It's a prophesy.  The tail was the blade of a sword."
 
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Tearlach laughed.  "If a king falls, it's because of a sword in his belly, not in the sky.  No seer would think a sword in the sky is any woman's eye, anyway."
 
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"The Goddess' eye!  The prophecy came true in every detail, and the women of the city founded the order to honor the Goddess."
 
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He sneered, "If your Goddess wanted him dead, why didn't she have him killed with an arrow?  She likes them better, doesn't she?  Ha!  Didn't think of that, did you?"
 
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"Like you know anything about prophecy.  The Goddess will work as she wills, by the means she chooses.  The seers saw her in the sky, and they knew what it meant."
 
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"Your seers are as blind as your 'sightless' eye.  Not like the ones we have in the north!  Ours have made prophecies for the whole world, all the lands and peoples, from the very beginning right up to the end, and they're always right!"
 
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"Oh?  So let's hear some."
 
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"They are not for your ears."
 
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"Ha!  I knew it.  Anyone can prophesy if they don't have to tell until after."  Itonya struck a pose, one hand high in the air, and proclaimed, "Lo!  For a warrior of great size and little hygiene shall come unto them, and render himself obnoxious to all.  All shall fear him for the sickening odor that doth accompany him wheresoe'er he goeth."
 
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"That's no prophecy.  You make a mockery of the gift of sight."
 
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"No, I make a mockery of you, as if you aren't enough of one already.  You don't respect our ways, why should I respect yours?"
 
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"Because our ways are the true ways, handed down to us by the Ancients themselves.  No argument or mockery will change that."
 
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"I know a prophecy," Itonya smirked.  "I'm pretty sure you're in it."
 
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"My coming must have been prophesied," Tearlach said suspiciously.  "Are you brave enough to tell me, before it becomes truth?"
 
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"It's not really about you... it's about the times of troubles, before what's called Hell's Final Gambit.  In it, the Barbarian clans are guarding something... you know?"
 
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Eyes narrowing, Tearlach grunted nonchalantly.  With a bigger grin than she should have, Itonya continued: "They've got one champion who kills all the demons -- I figure you might be thick-headed enough to pull that off -- but whatever they're protecting gets destroyed.  And it gets destroyed because of the Barbarian's pride."
 
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"That can never be," Tearlach growled.  "Our elders are the wisest men in the world, our warriors the strongest.  None can stand before the fury of the tribes.  Any man or demon who comes to the sacred mountain is dead.  Your prophecy is but empty wind."
 
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Itonya raised an eyebrow.  "Sacred mountain?"
 
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Silently, Tearlach fumed; he wasn't supposed to talk about that.  "Wipe that smirk off your face, sassy little b!tch.  I've decided not to tolerate any more of your insolence."
 
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"Works for me.  Won't hear another word out of me.  Nope, not a one.  Not a single --"
 
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"THEN SHUT UP!!"
 
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"Sure," she grinned.  "Whatever you say."
 
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The "catacombs" were down below the cathedral, where southlanders stacked up their dead in boxes.  Of what possible use this could be, Tearlach could not say, but they like to be laid out on stone slabs under a temple more than anything else.  Wide stairs led downward from a side hall of the cathedral, wide enough to carry a bier down into the cold, damp earth.  With so many unclean bodies, there were sure to be many undead creatures.  The uppermost level was full of goat-men and ghosts; they seem to be found with each other a lot.  Why that might be so, Tearlach did not stop to wonder; he had bigger prey in mind.
 
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The Rogue, at least, shut up after he'd told her to twice.  That prophecy couldn't be right, of course -- the seers of the north hadn't seen anything like it. Still, it was troubling that these people knew about sacred Mount Arreat, and the guardianship.  No one was supposed to know about that; even Tearlach himself knew little more than the mountain's name.  Well, so what if some outlander prophet saw it?  They couldn't be wrong every time.  The knowledge would do them no good, with the clans in all their thousands constantly on vigil.
 
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On a trip back to camp, the smith started jabbering at him.  If it's not one woman making a lot of noise, it's another.  He did his best to let it flow in one ear and out the other.
 
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"... They told me my parents were Barbarians, but they died.  I always thought they must be, like, wild and free and could go anyplace and see the world... and stuff."
 
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"Nay, there's nothing to see," he muttered irritatedly.  "They must have been weaklings if they died here.  Now hammer out that dent and be quick about it."
 
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She didn't.  She was just leaning over her anvil, knuckles white around her hammer, before she started crying.  "I just... I just..."
 
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"You just what?!"
 
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"Leave her alone!" Itonya said.  "Charsi, don't let this meathead get to you!"
 
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"Oh Goddess, I hate you!" Charsi sobbed.  "I thought you'd be all neat and stuff, but you're just mean!  You're cruel and mean and you must hate everybody and I hate you too!"
 
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"You stupid!" Tearlach replied.  "Is that what you're gonna do, cry like a baby?  No wonder you're all so soft.  Life is pain!  Get used to it!  You don't know what pain is, coddled in these soft lands with soft meat and soft words.  All I say is the simple truth, and if you can't take it, toughen up!  Thank your stupid Goddess you were born down here, 'cause in the north you'd be dead long ago."
 
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The stupid girl just cried more.  It was disgusting from someone that age, even a girl.  Too much southern mollycoddling, no doubt about it.  Itonya stepped in between him and Charsi, pushing against his chest.  "Leave."
 
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Tearlach didn't budge an inch.  "She hasn't finished her work."
 
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"So wear the helmet dented!" she yelled, smacking it down on his head.  "It goes with the dent in your head!  Just leave!"
 
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"As though any good could come of tolerating weakness," Tearlach sneered.  But he left.  The whole camp was sickening.  Weeping women pretending to be warriors.  Prophesies from a blind Goddess.  These lands are worse than the elders said.  It was nauseating.
 
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As Tearlach left, Itonya comforted Charsi, then went to see Akara.  Cain and Warriv, who had heard everything, followed.
 
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"Lady Akara, you know I am obedient to you."
 
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With a sigh, Akara nodded sympathetically.  "Yes, child, I know."
 
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"I don't think I can take much more of this.  He was supposed to be dead by now."
 
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"He has proven more resilient than I believed possible."
 
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"Legends say that the Barbarian clans are descended from ancestors who were more than human," Cain surmised.  "Though his possession of the Berserker's Arsenal could account for much of his success.  I wonder how he came by it."
 
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"And let me assure you, Lady Akara," Warriv said, "his behavior is in no way unusual.  What he said about traders coming to the mountains is not true.  I have traded in the Barbarian capital, Sescheron, on many occasions.  The northlands are hard and unforgiving; they make the people hard and unforgiving too."
 
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Akara shook her head.  "Visiting a city of such people would require extraordinary bravery, good master Warriv.  But I fear returning smacks of foolhardiness."
 
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Warriv chuckled.  "Never fear, my lady.  Despite all the strutting and blustering, they would never harm me.  They need outside resources, and I am one of the few traders they haven't frightened away.  They need me, and I know it.  I just don't let them know I know it."
 
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"Is he really so typical, then?" Cain asked.
 
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"Mostly... though he makes a bigger point than most of disdaining outsiders.  I thought it might be that the Barbarians of Sescheron have learned to behave better, but now I'm not so sure.  Perhaps it's just that this young warrior feels he has something to prove, more than the elders I negotiate with."
 
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"Hmm," Cain muttered, pondering this.  "Curious."
 
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"None of this solves the problem at hand, I am afraid."  Akara bowed her head.  "There is little doubt now that he will reach Andarial, and perhaps defeat her.  I am sure he will want to be rewarded, and I will not allow him to get what he wants."
 
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"Shouldn't Kashya have something to say about that?" Warriv asked.
 
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"Her wishes are well known," Akara snipped.
 
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"Where is Kashya, by the way?" Cain asked.  "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning."
 
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"She is indisposed," Akara said primly.  "Itonya, dear child, I am afraid I must ask you to return to him."
 
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"Lady Akara, please..."
 
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"I have two very good reasons.  Andarial must be defeated, if at all possible; for the good of the order, you must make sure this happens.  And he must not defeat her alone.  Under no circumstances can he win by himself; he must have had assistance to dilute his victory.  You must fight Andarial with him, and you must remain alive.  Do you understand?"
 
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"Yes, ma'am.  Then can I kill him?"
 
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"No.  If you do, Kashya will kill you, and I would rather that did not happen."
 
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Itonya grinned.  "Yes, ma'am, she would.  I'd better go now, before he finds her."
 
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"Thank you so much, child.  May the Light shine upon you and protect you, from both our enemies and our allies, and the Goddess' sight be with you."
 
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Tearlach was chasing a fleeing ghoul when the arrow came zipping over his shoulder, killing it.  Damn, the b!tch is back.  He'd never let her know it, but it did bother him the way all those little arrows went whizzing past him, missing by inches but always missing.  Looking over his shoulder, he watched her approach silently before they moved on.  Andarial was keeping her most dangerous minions close to her.  The shamans' fireballs actually hurt, and these ghouls hit harder than any wizardly creature had a right to.  They all died in the end, of course; the danger wasn't going to stop him.  It just told him how close he was.
 
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In the deepest chamber of the catacombs, Tearlach found a pool of blood the size of a small pond.  Blood had come burbling out of holes in the floors above, which was bad enough, but where did the demons get so much blood?  Surely, there weren't that many Rogues in the whole monastery, considering how many he'd already killed outside.  After mopping up a last few zombies and demons, Tearlach kicked open the door to the inner sanctum.
 
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Dead Rogues were all over the place, some in armor, some still in night-clothes.  One had a strange-looking crossbow.  Strange, the Rogues didn't use crossbows, but she still had one.  There were also more zombies, big-heads, and shamans.  Just how long did she think she could hide behind these weaklings?  Tearlach sent their heads bouncing into the dark, and was satisfied to hear a response.  "Die, maggot!"  As though saying it would make it so!  With his own less articulate (but more effective) battle cry, he met her head on.
 
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Hmmm... nice tits for a demon.  But they gave poison, just like the spider whose legs grew out of her back.  With a grim smile, Tearlach hacked through the chain binding her nipples together (what was up with that, anyway?) before burying his axe in her neck.  She hardly flinched, and backhanded him across the room!  Damn, the uber-b!tch was tough!
 
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Arrows whizzed over his head, thunking softly into Andarial's chest.  Snarling, Tearlach leapt back to his feet and into the fray, bashing Andarial away before laying into her again.  Yes, the uber-b!tch was very tough!  Why didn't she ever try to take out the Rogue camp by herself?  Demonic cowardice, probably; to go to battle is to put yourself at risk, something no demon wants.  Until she had no choice, she would have stayed in this room until she rotted with the dead, rather than risk facing a single opponent... even a Rogue.
 
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The battle was hard, but Tearlach proved harder.  Well, he had to drink two healing potions and a poison antidote, but that's not cowardice, that's just smart.  Andarial died in a tower of flame as her spirit went shrieking back to Hell, with his spit on her face as a parting gift.  Ha!  As though she ever had a chance.  Still, the victory was a good one.  The uber-b!tch had some shiny gems (chicks love those, don't they?) which Tearlach was sure Kashya would take as a gift, and a sign of his victory.  He would have brought Andarial's head, but it had burned to ash instantly.
 
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Tearlach stepped back into the Rogue camp with a triumphant howl.  Looking around, he saw none of the Rogues admiring him.  The merchants were packing up their wagons.  No one was paying any attention to him at all!  Where was Kashya?  Where were the cheers, the praise, the hot and cold running babes?  Starting to grow angry, Tearlach went to give Akara a piece of his mind.  Itonya was standing with her; all the better!
 
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"All right, witch.  Your demon lordess is dead.  Where's what's coming to me?"
 
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"Whatever do you mean?" Akara asked politely.
 
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"You know what I mean!  I went up your damn hill, kicked demon ass all the way through your damned monastery, and slaughtered the b!tch that started it all!  I have a gift to make to the fair Kashya, and I'm not letting you and your little witches hide her from me!"
 
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Calmly, Akara asked, "Have you defeated Diablo, as you said you would?"
 
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Blinking, Tearlach suddenly remembered all his previous boasting.  Akara continued: "If, as you said, Andarial was only a minor lord of Hell, and not worth a true warriors time... surely you do not think defeating her will impress Kashya."
 
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Shifting from one foot to the other, Tearlach said, "Um..."
 
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"Young man, you are making a very big noise for something so unimportant.  Remember, the quarry you came in pursuit of went through the monastery and out the other side.  He is far away now, and getting farther the longer you wait here."
 
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"Yeah," Itonya said.  "And you didn't even kill her alone.  I had to help you."
 
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Face suddenly flushing with anger, he stammered, "I... !  You... !  She... !"
 
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Working hard to conceal her smile, Akara said, "Young man, you have only just begun what you set out to do.  No one is rewarded for running the first quarter of a race, or winning half a battle.  If Andarial was unworthy, so be it.  Come back when you have done something more worthy, if you please."
 
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Eyes wild, his whole body trembling with anger, Tearlach stared at Akara while she tried to keep a straight face.  Finally, he turned to the camp wall, and with a mighty roar, put his fist straight through it.  Then he walked away, grimacing in pain.
 
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The merchants loaded quickly, and were gone that very afternoon.  Akara decided not to collect the usual fee for safe passage; after she'd had her cleverest Rogues break into Gheed's wagon and plunder his cash box, the order had all the ready money it needed.  The last order of business was Kashya.  It took five Rogues to carry her back into camp, still bound tightly to a heavy post.  Letting her go might have been dangerous.
 
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"Oh, I'm sorry, Kashya.  Your mouth is bloody; did you try to bite through the gag?"
 
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"WHERE IS HE!?!  WHERE?!  WHERE?!  You CAN'T have let him go!  I WON'T LET YOU!!"
 
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"Calm yourself, Kashya.  I am sure he will be back."
 
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"OH PLEASE GODDESS, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL HUMANITY!!  PLEEEASE LET ME KILL HIM!!!"
 
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"There's no need for all that screaming.  I am sure the Sightless Eye sees that this is for the best."
 
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"At least let me make sure he'll never reproduce... !!"
 
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Akara actually paused to think about that.  "No, catching up to the caravan would take too much time.  We have work to do.  The monastery must be cleansed, and the grounds reconsecrated.  When your lover returns, you may nail his private parts to the altar as an offering.  I think that might please the Goddess very much."
 
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Concluding thoughts:
 
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#A low-level set really helps you power through Act I Normal.  But does anyone need help powering through Act I Normal?  Ok, maybe a Sorceress does.
 
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#I like Find Item.  I wish other characters had that.
 
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#For those who care, Xanthippe suffered her first death (two, actually) in Act III Nightmare.  Both were to exploding Flayer skeletons in the Flayer dungeon, when her merc did something he shouldn't have with her close by.  But she's killed Meph, got part of the Arctic Set I was missing out of him, and has moved on to Act IV.
 

Latest revision as of 15:51, 12 February 2017

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