Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 7)"

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Varnae (Act I)#Chapter 7

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-Dear Diary,
-As I have recorded here, on a previous occasion a most ungentlemanly person entered my quarters, threw me to the ground out of a sound sleep, gave me an embarrassing dagger, and slipped away without alerting my hostesses.  He was here and gone so quickly I hardly got a look at him, but sleep did not come easily last night -- I already had one eye half-open when my visitor arrived, and was able to catch him at his business.  Note that I did not see or hear him enter.  I dare say professional burglars creep about with less grace, despite his burden, an alarmingly full haversack which nearly bent him double.  Again, I shall record our conversation here; my future biographer may be able to make more of this enlightened individual than I can.
-As soon as I noticed his presence, I rose and put my dagger to his throat, the perfect way to greet uninvited guests. "That is far enough, my good man."
-"Howdy do!" he replied, irritatingly unruffled.  Before I knew what was what, he'd taken father's dagger out of my nerveless hand.  It was instantly replaced by a much larger one, with a beautiful reddish gold blade that undulated like a swimming serpent.  "There ya go!  That's the Jade Tan Do!  You'll like that a lot better!"
-Gentle reader, you should not think it surprising that I found myself at a loss for words.  Very few are lucky enough to see an artifact of such power in their lifetime (only Blackbog's Shard is considered superior), and no one could expect to have it thrust into their hand before breakfast.  It was genuine beyond any question, as was my astonishment.  What would you have done in my place?  I claim no sophistication to my actions, no eloquence in my response.  I rather roughly took hold of the fellow, and sputtered, "WHO?  WHAT?  HOW?  WHERE?  WHY?!"
-"I'm the Mule!" he replied with a broad smile.  "That's the Jade Tan Do, and here's Soul Harvest and a nice bone shield.  I'll get ya a better one when you're big enough.  Me and th' boys live out on the disk; don't see much action out there, so we carry stuff for you and your friends to use.  Don't you worry, I've got your best interests at heart.  Can't let Andarial whop your butt before you've really gotten started!  Now I gotta run so you can get movin'.  With that dagger you're mostly immune to poison, so remember to keep in close and whack that spider-momma good!  We're all waitin' on ya!"
-With that, he was gone.  I must have allowed myself to be distracted by the scythe and a beautiful collection of polished demon bones leaning against the tent flap, as he slipped my grasp and vanished, again without alerting the Rogues.  'Sightless Eye' indeed.  What could this "disk" he referred to be?  Some cosmologists have speculated that the world is shaped like a wheel, which spins endlessly in repeating cycles.  I'd never thought of that as more than a clumsy analogy.
-But to return to the matter at hand: the Jade Tan Do, and other items my benefactor left.  Daggers of this design are well known and feared in the eastern nations, where they are used as weapons of assassination.  Many a prosperous ruler has gone to bed at the end of a hard day's oppression and found such a dagger on his pillow.  The wise need only one warning.  No one left the Jade Tan Do in some sultan's harem, though; its loss was mysterious, but not as mysterious as its return.  The scythe Soul Harvest has a more straightforward story.  A member of my order, eager for power but impatient with learning, commissioned it as part of an ensemble he intended to wear in battle.  Having a simple mind, he had a simple idea: if an opposing force is frightened, they will fight less effectively.  His first battle was a terrible disappointment for him -- the enemy simply brought archers to the field, and never saw him close enough to be frightened.  The weapon is intimidating to behold, despite its history, and may serve me well if employed more judiciously.
-With great kindness, the Rogues put their all into preparing breakfast for Floria and myself; I am reminded of the last meal of a condemned man, but I smile and thank them as I make my way to the waypoint.  Skeletal mages with lightning guard the cathedral doors, and inside are more and stronger horrors than I've seen in days.  How delightful to know I've made such a fine impression -- my enemy has sent out her very best in my honor.  The undead abound, so I put both of my new weapons to the test.  Soul Harvest is a fine implement of destruction, especially for those pesky creatures on whom venoms lack effectiveness.  The Jade Tan Do is, as anticipated, a powerful weapon, but the true gift is the shield.  I don't think I shall ever return to those heavy, clumsy, metal-and-wood things.  Light and quick in the hand, yet broad enough to cover me, this wall of bone suits me to a tee -- and so stylish, too!  With a proper helm, I could almost consider this a life worth living.
-Within the cathedral, I found one great work of art and spirit: a skeletal mage imbued with poison instead of an element.  The bones may have come from a priest (or likely a priestess) as it would not leave the main altar; devoted souls often have a few lingering memories that guide them in undesired ways.  Cursing the fate that brought me so much opportunity and so little time, I allow Floria to kill it, then escort me into the catacombs.  Normally, tombs are friendly places, but an enraged demonic presence stirs under my feet.  The dead will rise and oppose me again and again, I am sure.  Even the earth bleeds in my enemy's presence; pools of it bubble out of the broken floor, giving me an indication of her power.  I cannot say if the knot in my stomach is terror or eagerness.
-Of course, before I can meet this dark lady, I must deal with her servants.  The catacombs are deep and very full, but I meet surprisingly few undead.  Demons abound -- Dark Ones, the strongest of the Fallen Ones, and the Misshapen.  Strange that Andarial should be here with them... according to my studies, she prefers prettier demons.  She is also not fond of combat, preferring to sow anguish and despair by tantalizing and tempting, then crushing the hope she herself created.  Why am I reminded of mother again?  A very peculiar little oddity I've just encountered is tiny little men, hardly bigger than the ubiquitous rats.  These rat-men are very small, with huge heads that are mostly mouths full of sharp teeth.  Obviously they're demonic, but I do not recognize them at all, which troubles me nearly as much as the vivid floral-patterned skirts they wear.  Demons come in endless variety, but I never thought I'd see any that like flowers...
-The catacombs are full of martial implements, as befits the burials.  Frustratingly, most of it is Paladin gear, like shields and a mace called Crushflange, but I do find a new bow for Floria called Eagle Horn.  Odd name, that.  I notice she's wearing a suit of scale mail now.  I sold that suit to Charsi, but Floria bought it back for herself.  It's terribly unflattering... but there are more important things to worry her mind just now, sadly.
-Soul Harvest, I find, is most useful against slow creatures like shamans, or single opponents.  I'm also finding Corpse Explosion very useful, with such strong starting materials.  As we go deeper, the undead make their first appearance: flesh-devouring Ghouls lie within many of the sarcophagi.  I've never understood why anyone, even Demons, would want Zombies as servants.  They're utterly filthy and smell impossibly foul, and there's that dreadful habit of eating living flesh as thought it might do them any good.  They're especially drawn to brains.  Perhaps they miss their souls, and if they can't have their own back, mine will have to do.
-Another new creature is the Gargoyle.  These are immobile, and to all intents and purposes appear to be stone decorative elements, but start spitting balls of fire the moment anyone comes into their range.  Destroying such a thing should be difficult, but the construction carries an inherent weaknesses: they are alive, and thus susceptible to poison!  Demonic knowledge does not extend to mechanical artifice -- almost everything they produce is made from twisted flesh or harnessed souls.  Give a demon a lump of raw metal, and he'll have no idea what to do with it.  It is rumored that a mysterious clan of mage-killers, hidden from the rest of humanity, avoids demonic tampering by specifically using only mechanical devices, though I doubt there's any truth to that.
-Our last edition to the bestiary is the Vampire, banished ones which haunt the darkest tombs far from the light of the sun.  They're even more sensitive to it than I am.  Perhaps I should make note of something at this point: currently, in the weaker sorts of popular fiction, there is a trend for making Vampires out to be intelligent, sensual, impossibly beautiful beings who are superior to dull humanity in every respect.  Seeing one in the flesh leads the viewer, not to admiration and awe, but to wonder just what sort of people the authors of these cheap novels know, that a Vampire would be superior to them.  Shrunken and leathery, with mean, glittery eyes starting greedily from their grinning skulls, they know only enough to blast victims into submission with fireballs before they try to devour them.  I've seen Zombies with more erotic appeal, which says very little for the Zombie in question.
-The deeper we go, the more palpable anger radiates up through the floor.  There can be no doubt at all a demon lord is in residence.  At the deepest level, someone has arranged what can only be described as a corpse garden.  The whole chamber is decorated in a Dead Rogue pattern -- impaled on pikes, slammed over stakes, splattered against the walls or ground into jelly and spread on the floor like carpeting.  A woman's touch is evident.  In the center of the room is a pool of blood and naked bodies: perhaps Andarial's bath, or her larder, or both.  After clearing the last of her servants away, I open the door to her chambers.  Of course, we haven't been invited, but I know we're not unexpected.
-Oh my dear blessed ancestors, I am so damned lucky to be alive.  That was the clumsiest fight I've ever been privileged to survive.  At the first sight of her, I actually laughed; I know demons are rarely subtle, but she was too much of everything, and too little of everything else.  Then she struck.  Andarial's first sting was a cloud of poisonous gas expelled with such force I was knocked clean off my feet; it ate at my flesh and shrieked in my lungs, even with the Jade Tan Do in my hand.  I confess, I ran like a frightened rabbit.  The demoness turned on Floria, who dissolved into a puddle of blood and bile before my eyes.  It was over, literally, in seconds.  Then she turned her attention back to me.
-Completely forgetting myself, I brought out Soul Harvest.  Perhaps my desperation amused her; I think she actually let me hit her, once.  Then the four stingers on her back came down and I remembered why I should never have put away the dagger.  Drawing it cured the poison, but then a greater problem faced me: how was I going to kill a Lord of Hell with a glorified kitchen knife?!?  Over twice my height, this giantess hardly needed poison to rend my flesh from my bones.
-I'm not ashamed to say I retreated, and that I retreated very rapidly.  The stairs up into the catacombs beckoned me; with sufficient speed, I might escape.  The Rogues would be upset, but I've repaid them for their meager hospitality by clearing out most of the monastery.  This is a big world, there are many places I could go and let some hero with big muscles and not much on his mind kill Andarial.  As abject cowardice filled my mind, I fear I didn't look where I was going, and turned right where I ought to have gone left.  There was a wall where I'd hoped to find a door, and in front of the door, all the way over there... was her.  Laughing.
-"YOU DO SCREAM JUST LIKE A LITTLE GIRL."
-The voice wasn't heard so much as felt, rumbling through the violated earth.  I wish I could say I was inspired to put up a valiant stand, but my knees nearly gave out from under me and I wished I was already dead so it wouldn't hurt so much.  But there was a hope: I just had to get her away from that door.  Steeling myself as much as my quivering frame could manage, I ran across the room into the cloud of venom.  Vision failed me; I knew I'd gone the wrong way when I bumped into a mountain of mad flesh that slammed four stingers into my back, right in the middle of the big yellow stripe doubtlessly adorning it.  After stabbing until she let go, I ran in another direction until I found the wall.  I found it very hard indeed.
-The next few hours (probably only 20 seconds) are a blur of green clouds and gigantic thighs suddenly filling my view.  I was aware that she was chasing me.  Never in my life have I had a woman chase me; I'd always hoped it would be more pleasant than it was.  Finally, some small part of my brain still capable of rational thought informed me that I was still alive, so I must be doing something right.  Continue doing this, but add something to the mix that might kill Andarial.  Being no stranger to this part of my mind, I bowed to reason, and when she next loomed out of the clouds, I plunged the Jade Tan Do into her belly and ran away.  All at once, a strategy came to me.  Even those resistant to poison are not immune, and in my hand is one of the most powerful single sources that exists.  If I can stab her repeatedly, yet keep out of her range, she must eventually fall.
-All at once, my terror vanished.  I was not out of the woods yet by any means, but fear no longer had any hold on me.  The corpse garden in the front hall would do for a battleground.  Keeping her running would encourage my poison to do its work.  And so, I led her around and around the pool, trying to stay out of her arms' reach, yet dart in to stab when my venom's effect had faded.  My foe, naturally, was not stupid, and quickly realized what I was doing.  Her venomous spit flew thick and fast, but the dagger protected me from most of that.  The greater danger was her enormous strength.  I had to brave her blows to get close enough to stab, and we both knew it.  And that, dear reader, is how the battle eventually ended.  Once I saw a path to victory, I did not flee her presence.  Her overwhelming arrogance would not allow her to retreat.  It took many minutes full of short yet violent encounters, but in time the giantess fell.  My own body was very badly hurt; a few links of that chainmail will remain with me until the day I die.
-The Rogues were overjoyed.  The clouds that had covered the sky ever since the monastery fell broke, and brilliant sunshine kissed the blighted landscape.  I could take no pleasure in it.  Even if I liked the sun, how could I explain that the only reason I stayed down there was because, in a moment of panic, I couldn't tell my right hand from my left?
-What a maudlin exercise this journal is.  I wish I could put something more flattering in it, or at least less shocked by all that violence.  A long rest is called for, perhaps a permanent one.  Surely, father would agree, this was enough for anyone.  Ah... Deckard Cain has reminded me of Diablo, the one who started this whole mess.  He and his knowledge of the demon lord must journey east, to aid whatever cause has doubtless arisen to fight off the Lord of Terror in whatever land he's plaguing.  Why do good people always have to be so brave?  Now I'll have to go with the old addlepate to keep him safe.
-Concluding thoughts:
-#You'd think a Necromancer would have an easier time dealing with undead.
-#The Necro is not fun in one respect: he squeals like a little girl every time he gets hit.
-#Poison dagger is OK, for hit and run.  A poisonous missile weapon would be much nicer.
-#Even with a dagger, Necromancers are slow.  The Flayer Jungle will not be fun.  Exploding slaves will be even less fun.  Achmed the Cursed will be no fun at all.

Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 7)"

Latest revision as of 17:13, 12 February 2017

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