Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 13)"

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Varnae (Act II)#Chapter 13

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-Dear Diary,
-The world was in darkness when sleep released me from its grasp.  I didn't mind so much -- the desert is cooler at night -- but wondered about the time.  Under normal circumstances, I sleep as the innocent do, and never wake early; besides, I know I did not oversleep.  I woke as refreshed as a night in this flea-ridden hovel could allow.  Glancing out of the window confirmed my suspicion that something was amiss.  The entire sky was black as bile, without a single moon or star visible.
-Others are roaming the streets as well, their expressions fascinating mixtures of confusion and dread.  If only I were the cause!  But I am as baffled as they.  The most confused of all seems to be poor old Deckard Cain.  This has no precedent in his long memory of ancient facts and rote history, so he is utterly at a loss.  Can you believe, he recommended that I seek out Drognan?  Being flayed alive by angry ducks would be preferable; with that in mind, I went to speak with Lysander.  Since my first visit, I've devoted my evenings to failing to acknowledge his existence, but the irksome old coot's memory may be long enough to provide some clue about the present predicament.
-Dear old Lysander's hearing bespeaks his skill as an alchemist, as do the many blast marks on the ceiling of his shop.  I quite insisted that he have nothing in his hands while speaking with me; he may continue working in the dark after I am well clear.  Being so old, he is stubborn as a mule and as easy to steer in conversation (the mule might be a pleasanter companion, actually) though the darkness is as much on his mind as anyone's.  Something of this sort did happen before, in the antediluvian days of his childhood.  The solution was simple: a race of beings called Claw Vipers was responsible.  These villainous beings hate the sun and hide from it in desert caves, where they spend their days stealing candy from babies, tearing wings off of butterflies, and other beastly depravities.  An heroic sortie by the soldiers of the sultan's guard put an end to the menace.
-Only two members of the guard could be found, both standing at the palace gates.  Neither would not leave their appointed post, and their pip-squeak of a master was nowhere to be seen.  Recruiting mercenaries might be difficult, as I would have to outbid the pip-squeak for their services.  It appears I must I do everything myself.  My great quest against evil has decayed into something much worse: it is now work.  Still, risking my skin in the desert will be less work than trying to amuse myself in the city, if marginally more hazardous.
-The night's chill has not left the sands.  What should be furnace-like winds blasting away all moisture are instead shrill whips of frost invading every crevice of my armor.  Whenever I believe I have suffered every torment the desert has to offer, some new circumstance arises to correct my misapprehension.  Though I'd never confess, it is a bit disturbing to be in such absolute darkness and not be underground.  While a tomb may be dark, the walls are never far away; finding one's way by touch, or by listening to echoes, is possible.  Here, there is absolutely nothing around me.  My voice and footsteps vanish into the distance, never to return.  Noises come to me, but the things making them may be far away, or close at hand.  I cannot know until they appear in my feeble circle of lamplight and attack.
-Stumbling about blindly is an excellent way to lose oneself, and while lost, one may find lost things.  In the deep desert, there is a set of ruins known as "the Lost City."  Losing an entire city should be too much even for these people, but they refer to the spiritual loss of the city's residents, who are now plague-ridden zombies.  Despite the designation, everyone knows where the city is.  There is even a waypoint for our convenience.  When not stalking after the flesh of the living, the zombies remain peaceably in their city, where they move things from place to place, make incomprehensible scribbles on any surface they encounter, and at the end of the day, congregate in a central marketplace to exchange rocks, sticks, and dirt for small, shiny objects, all the while faintly moaning to each other.  I wonder if Zakarum has considered establishing a church here.  So long as the priest doesn't smell too appetizing, he couldn't ask for a more agreeable congregation.  But no church will be built here; Hell arrived first, and left Cat People and Sand Leapers.  The cats have mastered the making of poison gas potions.  Such elegance and intelligence, so cruelly used, saddens me.
-Like Lut Gholein, this city has an underground level of tunnels and basements.  Perhaps in the past, some catastrophe buried both cities, and the inhabitants rebuilt on top of the old ruins.  If so, Lut Gholein is the older city, with three underground levels and a waypoint which may fix the date of subsidence.  This city has but one; Lut Gholein must have been rebuilt at least three times, possibly many more.  The presence of Sand Raiders indicates that the city underground is now a bandit hideout -- somehow, they've made peace with the mummies.  As for the mummies, my people really should appropriate the preservation techniques used here.  One of them retained enough intelligence to cast a curse, and I had to use the scythe to kill it before its cohort killed me.
-This city must have been home to many mages in the past, to judge by the number of wands and staves among the dead.  At least it isn't more Paladin shields... honestly now, I could have built a house from what I've found so far.  Or at least hammer them flat and set a table for 12.  The marketplace is in the lower section of the city, full of zombies and four squat towers shooting fireballs.  My equipment renders me highly resistant to flame, but destroying the towers is still quite an undertaking with spear and scythe.  A sledgehammer would have suited the task better.  Perhaps these towers are similar to the Gargoyle traps in the Rogue jails?  I must remember to investigate the resemblance further.
-On a nearby flat-topped hill, an ancient temple looks over the city, but a few changes have been made since humanity was last here.  Flanking the temple entrance are two statues of rearing snakes, with fang-filled maws, impressive shoulders and pectorals, muscular arms, and long claws on their four-fingered hands.  Claw Vipers, I presume.   Even if the carvings were of acceptable quality (they are not) such bald self-promotion would be irksome; the one thing I cannot tolerate is arrogance.  My own arrogance, of course, is perfectly natural and in keeping, but for others such self-importance is dull and ugly and I will not abide either.
-When we first entered the temple, Zanarhi commented that it was as dark as a tomb.  A bit of a fatuous comment, I thought -- is there anywhere that isn't dark?  I appreciate his simple wisdom a bit more now; the temple is full of mummies.  In all probability, this was a place of entombment for the city's higher social circles before some final catastrophe turned the city into a necropolis.  The Claw Vipers may have had a hand in that; snakes carry diseases, and the zombies are infected with some plague.  The Vipers themselves are few in number and not particularly dangerous, though they have a way of bunching up and launching themselves great distances through the air to slam bodily into a victim.  Curiously, they are icy cold; I have never known a reptile which could exist with such a low body temperature.
-Despite years of Claw Viper occupation, something yet remains of the old temple's grandeur.  Wall murals depict various scenes.  A common motif is a cow, with broad white wings and a beard similar to those of the "laughing heads" statues I have seen in the desert.  My instinct seems to have been correct; those are more recently sculpted than the austere seated figures.  Also depicted are the slaughter (possibly sacrifice by beheading) of cows, and Sand Maggots beside spear-wielding figures.  I cannot say if the maggots are being attacked or merely herded.  They are painted as smaller than the spear-wielders, which is most certainly not the case today.
-Another, more sinister, mural depicts what is doubtless a Claw Viper holding a human head.  Two nearby human figures regard this calmly, not engaging the Viper in any way.  They are unarmed, and from the context, I would say that they are conversing with the Viper, despite its apparently murderous actions.  As I have already noted, another painted scene shows what seems to be the sacrifice of a cow by beheading; could this be a human sacrifice meant to appease the Viper?  If so, it did these people little good in the end.  I would not be surprised if the Claw Vipers caused the plague that wiped out the whole lot of them.  After all the business with demons, one would think humanity would have learned not to sell out to powerful beings, hoping to profit by the arrangement.  But what can be said?  The fool's bandaged finger inevitably goes wabbling back to the fire, in the hope that though it burned him 500 times, the 501st might turn out differently.
-A small note: in a side chamber, I found what was obviously the remains of a mummification workshop.  Human corpses, all of great age, lay about in various stages of preparation, with the tools of their handlers still beside them.  Many of the artifacts were smashed and broken in the ensuing melee, but all was not lost.  An ancient tome, beautifully preserved, lay open on a table; a glance revealed instructions on the preparation of mummies, still as clear as the day they were written.  Frustratingly, I fear Zanarhi saw me eyeing the book, and objected that the knowledge it contained belonged only to the local priests.  I assured him that he was perfectly correct; in fact, it may be that the knowledge was best lost.  We have seen how his own ancestors were used so horribly by Hell's power, have we not?  He agreed; men of little learning fear knowledge, and can be relied on to agree enthusiastically to its destruction.  To satisfy him, a small number of tomes and scrolls, those already ripped to shreds or covered with ichor, were committed to the fire.
-The deepest part of the temple, where the holiest alter was once kept, shelters the bulk of the Claw Viper force: perhaps a dozen great snakes.  Their leader, a huge brute colored an incongruous shade of lilac purple (and others think me unmanly?) is enchanted with lightning.  Zanarhi cannot seem to understand that repeatedly poking the creature is, in fact, the last thing he should do; poison works so much better!  Once they all are dead, we fall to looting, an activity I mind less and less as time goes on.  Human bodies, naked, gutted, and missing their heads, line the chamber walls.  Some are still warm, and cannot have been dead more than half an hour in this cold.  Where did they come from, I wonder?
-To judge from the height of the ceiling and the shape of the chamber, this shrine once had a central dais.  In its place, there is now a pit, with a single low stone slab encrusted with gemstones and bits of jewelry.  The simplest way to retrieve the valuables is to roll the altar out of the pit and knock the jewelry off on the floor; violating this "temple" can be regarded as an added bonus.  Removing it from the pit was easier than I expected, and when dashed to the floor, the slab broke in half.  A number of bright lights whisked out of its interior, filling the chamber with a iridescent glow.  I have seen spirits escaping material confinement before, but these did not alarm me as much as they ought to have.  After fluttering about like little fairies, the lights rose to the ceiling and pierced the stones.  A brilliant shaft of sunlight shone down; true to Lysander's account, the slaughter of the Claw Vipers brought the sun out of hiding.  Though it will be easier to see, it's almost a pity that daylight has returned.  I was beginning to enjoy the darkness.

Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 13)"

Latest revision as of 17:20, 12 February 2017

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