Difference between revisions of "Tearlach (Chapter 12)"

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(Created page with "{{Tearlach nav}} "This is obviously the result of sorcery," Fara said, glancing up at the darkened sky. "We should seek Drognan's council immediately. He is wise in such mat...")
 
(Created redirect after moving content to Tearlach (Act II) page)
 
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#REDIRECT [[Tearlach (Act II)#Chapter 12]]
"This is obviously the result of sorcery," Fara said, glancing up at the darkened sky.  "We should seek Drognan's council immediately.  He is wise in such matters."
 
 
 
"Aye, it's foul magic," Tearlach replied.  "A cloud of bugs blotting out the sun.  I know how these things work.  So... before they come down, I should make sure you get inside, where they can't eat you."
 
 
 
"I'm... not sure that you're correct.  We would do well to seek Drognan's advice."
 
 
 
"I've already got one old fart following me around, telling me what to do."  Casually, he leaned against the wall of Fara's shop, every muscle flexed, and smiled.  "A time of darkness is best spent in shelter.  Don't worry lass, I'll gladly stay with you."
 
 
 
For the first time, words seemed to fail Fara.  He must be wearing her down -- but what red-blooded woman could ignore him for long?  Finally, she stammered, "I suppose in your land, indifference in the face of alarming events is considered courageous.  Here, a warrior's duty demands that troubles like this be dealt with promptly.  I feel there is a greater danger in this than any cloud of insects.  I have never seen anything like this before, but Drognan is native to this land and spends much of his time studying its history.  His knowledge would be invaluable in dispelling this darkness."
 
 
 
Of course, Tearlach thought, she's scared of the dark!  "Lass, there's nothing in the dark that's not there with the sun!  Until those bugs come, there's nothing to worry about.  Get your mind off your fears.  There's a tavern right over there; you need ale and laughter!"
 
 
 
"I am aware of the tavern's location, if you'll remember your first day."  After a moment's thought, she said, "Perhaps we both need some 'liquid courage.'  What other reason would a brave warrior have to stay in town, while the object of his quest gets further and further away?  This endless night must have unsettled you... you poor thing."
 
 
 
"What?!" he snarled.  "I need no woman's pity!  Day or night means nothing.  It could be night forever for all I care!  So, you think some darkness-making demon can get the better of me by shutting off the sun?  I'll show you who's 'unsettled'!"
 
 
 
As Tearlach stomped off to Drognan's shop, Fara bowed her head with a sigh.  Cain, who was always nearby, said, "I see you have learned something of his character."
 
 
 
"Despite his efforts to be ingratiating, it would be a foolish woman who could not see him for what he is.  Manipulating another is unpleasant work.  It is not something anyone should be proud to learn to do.  But... he makes it so easy."
 
 
 
Cain nodded.  "He is a simple soul... no, that's not quite true.  Despite what you may think, he is capable of surprising mental exertions.  It seems to me that he strongly believes in his own intuition.  He feels his first thought is always good and true, and follows that inkling until long after it should be clear that it was wrong."
 
 
 
Shaking her head, Fara said, "He admits to knowing nothing of these lands, yet feels his ignorance is greater than the learning of sages."
 
 
 
"For one who 'understands things', what need is there to know anything?"
 
 
 
"If Diablo truly does stalk these lands... and it is almost certain he does... I should take up sword and shield again, and move against him.  But I swore on all that is still holy I would lay down my arms forever."
 
 
 
"Do not worry, child," Cain smiled. "In the Rogue's mountain pass, he surprised everyone by succeeding where all were sure he would die.  I have every confidence he will defeat Diablo.  The challenge will be to direct him, and not let his 'intuition' be a distraction."
 
 
 
"Walking a difficult path demands discipline," Fara said as if reciting from memory.  "I fear this one has little or none.  Defeating a Prime Evil will require more than brute strength and a thick skull."
 
 
 
The streets were almost deserted; everyone must be hiding indoors.  Drognan's shop was in an alley near the eastern wall; the wizard himself was outside, in the pool of light two lamps cast by his door.  Tearlach meant business and didn't mind who knew it, so he got the conversation off on the right foot. "Out with it, wizard.  What's with the sun?"
 
 
 
"Good evening.  You must be the one who banished Andarial back to Hell.  So kind of you to finally introduce yourself."
 
 
 
"Why should I bother with you?  You think I'm interested in one of those pathetic sticks, or bits of demon bone to tell my future?  I already know my future, and it has nothing to do with you or your wizardry.  The smith says you know something about the sun going dark, so spit it out... without any damned riddles!"
 
 
 
"I am not fond of riddles; I prefer the crossword.  Something like this has happened before.  It was the work of Claw Vipers, snake-like beings from the desert.  Unlike natural reptiles, Claw Vipers cherish cold and hate the sun.  They erected an altar to one of their dark gods in exchange for eternal darkness.  Beware of them, they often kidnap and sacrifice travelers to appease their deity's hunger."
 
 
 
For a moment, Tearlach was so shocked to get a straight, informative answer out of a wizard he almost didn't answer.  "Where do they lair?"
 
 
 
"In caves, tombs, and dark places far beneath the burning sands.  They do not come to the surface until the night has cooled sufficiently for them.  The largest permanent lair I am aware of is the Valley of Snakes, beyond a dead city near a group of oases."
 
 
 
"I know the place.  Full of Zombies?"
 
 
 
"The former inhabitants of the city died of a plague, believed to have been caused by Claw Viper magic.  It would not surprise me if they walk their city again, for Claw Vipers are well known to practice all the darkest magical arts."
 
 
 
"You should talk to the other old wizard, by the well in the marketplace," Tearlach smirked.  "He could stand to learn something about not babbling and getting to the point."
 
 
 
"I shall pass your kind words along."
 
 
 
He knew where to go, so Tearlach went to the tavern to collect his mercenary.  He wasn't there, so Tearlach asked one of his little friends, "Where's my mercenary?"
 
 
 
"Uh..." the other merc helpfully answered.
 
 
 
"What?  Are you too drunk to remember?"
 
 
 
"No, he's..."  Something thumped him on the leg under the table.  "Uh, he died."
 
 
 
"What?"
 
 
 
"He died.  Yeah.  Gone.  Joined his ancestors.  Finis.  Kaput."
 
 
 
A few people in the room laughed; Tearlach felt suspicious.  "What did he die of?"
 
 
 
"It was, uh... it was really tragic."
 
 
 
"Yeah," another merc said.  "It was horrible."
 
 
 
Something thumped the first one under the table again.  "Yeah, horrible!  So horrible, I don't even want to talk about it."
 
 
 
Tearlach's suspicions had not been assuaged.  "Do tell."
 
 
 
"No way, man.  It'd make you sick just hearing about it."
 
 
 
"Try me."
 
 
 
"No, really!  It was so totally gross and stuff, he just exploded all over."
 
 
 
"What was he doing?"
 
 
 
"He was, uh... ow!"  The first pulled his foot from under the table.
 
 
 
"It was his toes." the second one said with a smirk.
 
 
 
"Yeah!  He was trimming his toenails, and he died.  Exploded.  All over."
 
 
 
"What was he trimming them with, a scythe?!"
 
 
 
The two looked shocked.  "Well, what do you trim them with?"
 
 
 
"Enough of this!  I paid for a mercenary, and one is as good as another!" Tearlach grabbed the first tavern jokester and hauled him off to the waypoint.  As his screams faded into the distance, Emilio crawled out from under the table.  "I died cutting my toenails!?!"
 
 
 
"Hey, you didn't tell us what you wanted us to tell him.  You're supposed to be the smart one, you figure out a good story."
 
 
 
"See if I ever write love letters for you again.  Barkeep, a round on me.  At least he's gone."
 
 
 
Out in the desert, the new merc was mumbling something about someone owing him big time as they strode into the city of the dead.  It was a large city, bigger than Lut Gholein, with two levels separated by a rocky escarpment.  The "lower city" was full of Zombies and some weird tall men with four arms and pinheads.  Their many hands held skinny little blades made out of glass or crystal, which broke satisfyingly easily on Tearlach's armor.  Like Lut Gholein, this city had a sewer, with lots of mummies and skeletons.  Why they put so many of their dead in the sewer was beyond Tearlach, but they had plenty of valuables to plunder.
 
 
 
The "upper city" had larger houses and big temples, as well as better loot.  The rich can't stand living beside their slaves; they have to "keep them in their place" and pretend they're too good for them.  There were some ancient fireball traps in the upper town marketplace.  They couldn't possibly defend the city from there, unless they were to spit fire at commoners who might stray into the wrong part of town.  As he chopped and clove his way through crowds of the dead, Tearlach wondered if the Zombies from the upper town would refuse to mingle with the Zombies from down below.  He couldn't see or smell any difference between them, but you never know.
 
 
 
Beyond the city, a small valley lay between two sloping cliff walls.  Inside was what looked like another tomb, but two crude statues of enormous size flanked the entrance.  They were snakes, but with shoulders and arms.  Even Tearlach could tell they were not human work; any human could do better work than that.  He had seen things that looked like that painted on the walls of some southlander tombs, always engaged in some act of bloody mayhem.  So, these were feared here?  They might almost be worth his time.
 
 
 
Hordes of skeletons greeted him at the door, with big mummies behind them.  This must be an old southlander tomb.  Among the undead were what had to be Claw Vipers.  Their beady little eyes and low brows bespoke their stupidity; charging him confirmed it.  Laughing at the ease of the fight, Tearlach ignored them and slew their undead servants first, making sure to bounce the skulls off their scaly hides.  When all were dead, Tearlach took a moment to look around the tomb.  It was dark and dreary, but without the usual layers of dust and cobwebs covering every surface.  Creatures lived here, and had for a long time.
 
 
 
"The sun has never shone here."
 
 
 
"Well, duh," the merc replied.  "It's underground."
 
 
 
"I know that.  These sun-haters live in this tomb.  What manner of foolishness would lead even these creatures to dwell amongst the dead?"
 
 
 
"You know more about that than I do.  I just want to get out of here."
 
 
 
"Ha!  You're an even bigger coward than the last one.  There's little opportunity for sport here, so I'll make it quick for you."
 
 
 
At a run, Tearlach went through the Claw Vipers like a hot poker through ice.  That was the best analogy he could think of, anyway; killing them didn't distract his mind enough to keep him from coming up with metaphors.  The Vipers liked it cold and kept their tomb chill, but for him that just meant less sweating.  In the lowest level, the altar he was expecting was down in a pit in the floor.  More Vipers guarded it feebly, including one enchanted with lightning who insisted on sitting right on top of the altar.  Maybe he intended to make himself one last sacrifice, so Tearlach dragged him off before bashing his head in.  The altar's top slab broke in two with a single stomp, and sunlight flooded the chamber.
 
 
 
Cain went over the loot, as usual, and picked out a corroded little brass amulet.  That was the headpiece of a Horadric staff, and might match the shaft Tearlach had stored away.  It took him a moment to remember, but Tearlach found the shaft soon enough and used the cube to rejoin them.  For such a rotted old thing, the staff cleaned up nice; maybe he could use the cube to clean and repair his equipment.  But then Fara would never get to see him undressing... yes, it was better to get repairs the old-fashioned way.  Who knows how badly the poor lass would take it if he stopped coming?
 

Latest revision as of 14:59, 12 February 2017