Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 24)"

Latest revision as of 17:32, 12 February 2017

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Varnae (Act IV)#Chapter 24

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-Dear Diary,
-The River of Flame is the ultimate source for humanity's legends concerning Hell, of course: a massive flow of lava, continually producing combustible gasses which ignite the moment they reach the air.  Most of Hell lies far beyond, and is quite different according to the few reports available, but the river leaves a strong first impression on the casual viewer.  Not that the River of Flame sees many "casual" visitors; for the most part, only those in league with Hell or Heaven ever see it, and few of them make reliable witnesses.  Had I such a person sworn to truthful testimony to cross-examine, my first question would concern their sanity, whichever side of the conflict they feel is less despicable.
-Nevertheless, I must confess to a quavering of fear at the sight of the River of Flame.  Its appearance is so very like the description Zakarum's texts give it, even the most pragmatic realist would doubt his faithlessness.  The wilting heat, the burning gasses which actually do smell like charring flesh and bone, even the sound is almost exactly like the screams of a million souls being slowly reduced to ashes.  Naturally, my own order has little to say about the river, or anywhere else outside our plane of existence.  In a weaker mind than mine, the sights, sounds, and smells of Hell might produce a religious epiphany.  The blessing of apathy leaves me immune to such things -- forming an opinion on such an unpleasant subject would require giving it thought, which is far more trouble than it's worth.
-A stairway from Heaven leads downwards, to a rough island amid the lava.  Close to ground, the heat is not so intense, and the air fresher; the heat and miasma must rise heavenwards, leaving these islands (a series of them are visible from here) relatively cool.  Nothing can be seen in the river itself; even Hellspawn are vulnerable to that heat.  On land, I have found giants, undead mages, and more of those peculiar bone-insect creatures who attacked me so unsuccessfully in the city above.  The giants are all a disconcerting shade of green, despite their fleshiness and apparent liveliness.  At least my Bone Armor does me some good against such creatures, though their enormous strength rapidly batters the magic to bits.
-Completely unexpectedly, the River of Flame has its own curious story to tell.  The soil here resembles the glassy grit of Pandemonium, partially melted and fused.  Perhaps some fell from above, shaken loose by frequent conflicts, and heaped at random on the river's bed.  It is obvious that the river was much lower at some time in the past: the tops of buildings can be seen jutting up from the flames, even through one of the islands on occasion.  From what is visible, these were ponderous fortresses with heavy stone walls, absolutely covered with spikes and spines yet not completely dissimilar from Heavenly architecture.  I wonder if Hell finds is more to their advantage not to build, but rather to allow Heaven to build, then take the structure and redecorate according to their own tastes.
-Additionally, I should make a note of the bones I have found in such abundance, here and elsewhere.  Hell's inhabitants value filthy lucre much as we mortals do, I have found plenty of wealth secreted among the remains of battles past.  Some of the bones are quite large, and I have just now found an intact skull, beautifully formed, though far larger than any mortal man's head could be.  None of the giants has so sweet a face; could this be an angel?  Not even Tyrael has such a swollen head.
-The wizards I have encountered here and in the city deserve special mention.  Mentally, the undead are rarely worth considering; even those whose minds remain suffer serious losses in intellectual ability.  While these fellows retain more of a spark than I have ever seen in any formerly-live being, I cannot say their minds remain intact after death, one of the great aims of my order.  Even Hell cannot achieve that elusive goal... or they have no desire to.  Of course, I could be wrong -- engaging my enemies in conversation is difficult, even with those who still have tongues, so my estimate of their intellectual ability may be grounded on biased or incomplete data.  My only other comment is that, among their ranks, it seems to me that I am seeing a lot of familiar faces.
-Another observation: after a short but sweet battle with a crowd of giants, a skeletal being came crawling up out of the River of Flame.  I kicked it back down, and it has not made the attempt again.  What a dreadful place this is, enemies can come from anywhere.  Only my desire to be out of this hell of tedium and terror carries me on.
-Ahead, a large island looms above the roiling miasma of the river, with some sort of structure at its peak.  I can see this from the apex of an arched bridge, which connects two other islands.  It appears that Hell will build when it wants to, just not very well.  I cannot imagine that Hell has no architects -- there are so many who certainly should be here.
-The structure is some sort of forge, to judge from the sounds, and is energetically guarded by hordes of demons.  My approach was met with a wave of magical attacks and the howls of frenzied giants, so I am certain something of importance lies on that island.  The curse of Attraction provides me with some vicarious amusement, and exploding corpses is always a joy.  Hmm, the hammering sounds have stopped.
-I have slain a creature much like the jailhouse smith from the Rogue's monastery, with much less risk to my own person I am happy to say.  This one was quicker than the first, and no doubt much stronger, but the poisons I use are so potent now, the muscle-bound clod-head didn't stand a chance.  I like that in an enemy.  Clearing the island is simple enough.  Now, I have a forge and smithy, should I want such a thing.  Perhaps that beastly girl Charsi could be persuaded to come here?  I wouldn't mind seeing her in Hell.  Then again, knowing her, I am sure that the moment she set foot down here all of Hell would freeze over, then burst out in clouds of flowers and butterflies.  I actually prefer it the way it is.
-According to Deckard Cain, Hell's endless state of war (whether with others or itself) means that armor- and weapon-craft is a major growth industry.  Hundreds of "Hellforges" on the River of Flame churn out arms, each equipped with tools capable of shaping, bending, or breaking any material known.  Thanks to Tyrael's blundering and humanity's naivete, there are three things we desperately need broken, one of which is in my possession.  Destroying even that one will prevent The Prime Evils from invading our world.  For this gift, I'll forgive Hell the name "Hellforge."  Honestly, I thought only Heaven was that unimaginative.
-Mephisto's spirit is visible in his Soulstone; my, he looks upset.  Doubts nag at me; Tyrael and the Horadrim were wrong about so many things in the past, can I trust them this time?  It could be that breaking the stone will release Mephisto's spirit into Hell, a bit like imprisoning a rapist in a harem.  My alternatives are few.  Keeping the Soulstone is not an option; it is clearly a weak prison at best.  In Hell, it will eventually be found by some loyal follower of his.  Returning Mephisto to my world is NOT an option.  Perhaps some of the wiser Horadrim felt this frustration; I cannot know if Tyrael is wrong until I have done as he says.
-Smashing demon lords certainly does produce a pretty show.  The scream of impotent rage was an especially nice touch.  A group of human spirits I had not noticed in the stone floated heavenward after I shattered it; where did they come from, I wonder?  Now empty of power, a few bits of gem-quality stone are all that remains of Tyrael's Folly, part 1.  My doubts have not been relieved, but I must confess: that was fun.
-A bit further on, four monumental statues decorate an artificial island, made from blocks of stone instead of whatever scorched detritus everything else here is.  The statues are gigantic and purposefully intimidating, yet tediously representational and artistically valueless.  I am reminded of the monumental works erected to glorify some of our more dictatorial kings, only to a greater degree.  Though I do my best not to notice their existence, some fear at the back of my mind is trying to convince me that these statues are watching me.  There are no spirits in them, that is impossible... yet the feeling persists.  This place is beginning to affect my mind.  Could I have been possessed without realizing it?
-Now I am beginning to doubt my senses!  There is an angel here, attired differently from Tyrael, speaking to me.  Something about five seals to break...
-Back in the Pandemonium Fortress.  Deckard Cain looks like Deckard Cain: old, ineffectual, with bits of pea soup dripped down the front of his robe.  Oh, happy soup-stain!  The very simplicity of it is reassuring, which is as sad a comment on my frame of mind as you are likely to hear.
-Tyrael is agitated.  Poor avatar of order, are things not going according to plan?  The other angel is Hadriel, I am not possessed, and I could stand some other simple, earthy food to calm my nerves.  Despite the misgivings of the rest of humanity, we followers of Rathma are an earthy lot, deeply concerned about the fate of the world and the souls of all men and women.  We are certainly not suited to hobnobbing with angels!  I wonder, does Atma serve pea soup?  A bowl of that would hit the spot.

Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 24)"

Latest revision as of 17:32, 12 February 2017

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