Difference between revisions of "Tearlach (Chapter 26)"

Latest revision as of 15:14, 12 February 2017

Redirect to:

Tearlach (Act IV)#Chapter 26

@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
-{{Tearlach nav}}
+#REDIRECT [[Tearlach (Act IV)#Chapter 26]]
-Tearlach went back to the River of Flame, hardly noticing the hellish heat through his burning anger.  The angel had to be lying.  Why would the angel lie?  There was no possible way he could be telling the truth.  Demons would assault Arreat, all the prophecies were clear on that.  The true people of the mountains would lose the final battle against evil, that had also been foretold, but only after they grew weak and lazy.  That had not come to pass.  Every warrior trained ceaselessly, as they always did.  The people's lives spun around war, every invasion had always been repulsed long before outsiders even saw the sacred mountain.  A demonic attack would meet the same fate.  There was just no other possibility.
-And another thing, Tearlach thought as he leapt howling into a mass of flesh mothers, how could the clan elders possibly be Druids?  Druids were half-animals, weather-witches, tree huggers and animal tamers.  The clans chose their elders from among warriors: the truest in their word, wisest in council, most open to friends, and bravest against enemies.  An elder's honesty should be above all doubt -- there was no way on earth an elder would use magic!  The old traditions were clear: magic is for the weak and cowardly, dealing with demons and spirits and foulness of all kinds.  To practice magic went against everything a Barbarian should be; for an elder to use magic was unthinkable.  But why would the angel lie?
-The River of Flame went by in a blur.  Flesh mothers, roaches, and big sword-demons came and died in wave after wave of slaughter.  Tearlach drank potion after potion, tearing bodies apart to find more as he went.  There were a few other things, like some scale mail engraved with the name "Hawkmail", but it didn't seem to matter now.  With the red light of a berserk frenzy still filling his vision, Tearlach soon found himself looking up at a huge keep.
-According to Tyrael, this stronghold was built to oppose incursions from the Pandemonium fortress.  Diablo most likely was inside, gathering his servants to prepare for war.  Was the angel lying about that too?  Was Diablo really here?  Maybe it was a trap.  No, that didn't seem right: if this was a trap, Tyrael would have come up with a better lie.  What he had said, no one would say, unless it were true.  Tearlach went into the stronghold.
-As soon as he passed through the gates, the air went prickly; some spell had been cast, one unfamiliar to Tearlach.  A horde of undead soldiers advanced, and behind them, a skeleton wizard threw a laughing skull.  The spell was odd and very flashy -- a lesser man might be unnerved by the sight, but pretentious looks mean nothing in war.  The giggling cranium was about as potent as every other spell these guys used: not nearly enough.  Tearlach carved the soldiers up, then jumped the fleeing mage and kicked his own skull into the river.  The weird prickling feeling passed after a while without any lingering effect.
-There demons in the stronghold were well-armed, those who bothered.  Hell's forges must keep busy indeed, making so many weapons.  There were also floating things that looked like some kind of giant louse, and cast little lightning bolts that crackled along the ground.  They didn't hurt much, but Tearlach always felt drained and weak after fighting them.  A potion of the spirit restored him, but his supply began to run low.  One time, he suppressed his berserk rage, striking normally to use the leeching enchantments on his axe and drain his energy back.  That's how he found out what the prickly feeling was; every blow rebounded back on him somehow, and he lost far more than he gained.  The spell didn't affect him while berserk, for some reason.  He went back to swilling potions.
-The Pandemonium fortress was small and compact, surrounded by thick walls and floating up in space.  Diablo's stronghold was a giant artificial island with many wings, splayed out amidst the flames of Hell.  In the very center sat a pit dropping directly into the river, bridged by a giant star held together with metal clamps.  Despite being decidedly un-celestial, demons like stars; one this big in such a central location must be very important.  Tearlach walked over it, jumped on it, even whacked it with his axe.  The center sounded hollow, and as he hit it, he heard laughter inside.  Someone or something was in there, and had a very deep voice... maybe Diablo really was here.  Mephisto had an impressive voice too.  Nothing he did could crack it open, though.  Frustrated, he went to explore the north wing.
-This part of the stronghold was thick with flying lice, and at the end of the wing, Tearlach found two odd structures.  Disks were set in the floor, with three metallic spines meeting above them like a tent roof.  Nothing hellish could be good, so he knocked over the spines and stomped the disk underfoot -- not really expecting anything to happen, but destroying Hell's devices is always a good plan.  A bellow of anger from within the stronghold told him he'd done good.  Smugly satisfied, he turned to repeat his performance on the other disk, when a group of lice appeared out of thin air.  It was a hard fight, and he had to drink a lot of spirit potions, but soon killed them all.  One was carrying a shield, of all things.  Not as strange as a Flayer carrying a poleaxe, but still peculiar.  When he kicked over the other disk-tent, nothing happened.  Maybe Diablo was saving his strength.
-The east wing only had one disk; a barrage of spells and screaming skulls met him when he whacked it.  Skeleton wizards, apparently.  Without any soldiers to hide behind, they should have been easy prey, but there were so many spells and skulls flying around Tearlach soon found he needed another strategy.  When he leapt to the attack, the prickly spell made the hit hurt him as well, but running left him vulnerable to the skulls, which were much stronger this time.  Like all wizards, they ran away rather than fight toe-to-toe, so Tearlach used this to his advantage, leaping near them but not hitting.  They scattered, giving him time to pick off a straggler before leaping again.  The last one fought hard, almost admirably, but finally gave up the ghost he should have given up long ago.  If only all wizards were so sensible.  Of course, a true warrior's steel has a way of helping wizards see the light of reason.
-Checking the star in the center of the complex, Tearlach noted three of the clamps holding it shut were open.  A good sign, that; the south wing held the last two disks.  Nothing came from the first.  Were they just being coy?  When he broke the final one, a huge crowd of sword-swinging demons came out of nowhere, moving so fast Tearlach almost laughed at the sight of them.  It should have alarmed him, but such huge things moving like hyperactive squirrels just looked comical.  When about a dozen surrounded him, it wasn't nearly as funny -- they hit as fast as a squirrel might too.  Keeping his cool, Tearlach concentrated on defense, taking them down one by one.  When only a few were left, he let loose the fury of berserk, finishing them.
-A bellow of rage sounded from the center of Diablo's stronghold.  Someone was not pleased with that outcome, someone Tearlach wanted to meet.  Screaming his own cry of defiance, he rushed out to meet it.  The Lord of Terror fit his description well: twice the height of a tall man, with a skin of rusted iron scales, and horns and spines coming out of every part.  Even his rear, Tearlach noted with some amusement.  Must not sit down much.
-Diablo ran (on all fours!) between Tearlach and the stronghold entrance.  Obviously, he's misjudged me, Tearlach thought.  To teach him the error of making such assumptions, he ran through the wall of fire Diablo cast and slammed his axe into his face.  The steel made only a shallow cut, but Diablo grunted with visible surprise.  An excellent start; let's hope he fights better than his brother.
-Like Mephisto, Diablo spent much of the battle slinging spells.  The expanding wall of fire he threw was toasty, but not greatly inconveniencing.  Another spell was a bolt of crackling lightning, a delicate pink in color.  Though it looked girlish, it hurt enough that Tearlach found it best to avoid it.  But he had something Mephisto didn't: his skin and flesh were so hard, most of Tearlach's blows were simply skittering off his scales.  The eldest of The Three had been physically wispy and brittle, easy to smash.  His resistance to magic might have been high, so the wizards of Kurast would have a hard time with him.  Diablo's defenses seemed better suited to warriors.  Just his luck.
-Around the stronghold they struggled, trading blows and running to new positions, trying to gain some advantage over each other.  Tearlach ran out of life potions, and started on his rejuvenation ones.  He'd been hoping not to do that, those took some work to get.  Diablo slowly weakened as he carved away, red blood boiling out of severed veins, dripping to the floor.  He ran behind corners, then back to his star, but Tearlach wouldn't let him keep his distance and use that damned magic.  Finally, he stopped and stood his ground, shooting lightning which coursed through Tearlach's armor and heated it red-hot, threatening to cook him inside it.  The danger was great, but while he stood still, Tearlach chopped away for all he was worth, a smile coming to his lips.  This... this was a worthy battle!
-Even the greatest battles must come to an end, and this one was no different.  With the last of his endurance, Tearlach leapt and struck Diablo on the head, slamming one of his horns straight into his own brain.  Howling in pain and anguish, the Lord of Terror writhed as his body broke and his spirit left it.  It swirled in the air, then was drawn into a gem embedded in his forehead.  The body collapsed in a heap and almost immediately disintegrated, crumbling into a pile of worn, tortured flesh and bone that shivered into dust.  Must be what was left of the body the demon was using, Tearlach thought.  No matter; this was a job well done.  Time to finish him off for good.
-The Hellforge was still empty, and would probably remain that way for a long time.  Diablo's soulstone shattered with a burst of flame, and noisome vapors rose from each scattered fragment.  None of the bits were of gem quality; maybe Diablo had been harder on his stone than Mephisto was.  Then he remembered, he never asked the angel if it was safe to use those... because the angel told him the highlands were being invaded!  Cursing himself for letting mere loot distract him, Tearlach took a portal back to the fortress.
-"You have done a fantastic job!" the old wizard greeted him.  "Never in all my years have I heard of anyone besting two of the Prime Evils!  One, they might say, is bad enough."
-"Yeah, yeah, whatever.  What about... the other one?"
-"Baal has surely sensed his brother's death," Tyrael said quietly.  "Which will drive him to greater haste in his search on Mt. Arreat.  Deckard Cain, last son of the Horadrim, I now feel I may tell you what secret that mountain holds.  Deep within, in the heart of the mountain, lies the Worldstone, Heaven's last gift to humanity before their retreat from the mortal world.  Baal knows, as Tal Rasha knew from his explorations in the Barbarian highlands, that the Worldstone is there, and why."
-"Oh, my..." Cain stroked his beard.  "If Tal Rasha knew..."
-"The Worldstone is the greatest gift humanity has ever received; the future of all mortals depends on it.  Tal Rasha wisely left when he learned of its presence and purpose, and never sought the way in to its resting place.  For that, all humanity should be thankful.  Mortal, you have accomplished the impossible, but further trials await you."
-"I still don't believe you," Tearlach frowned.  "The sons of Bul-Kathos --"
-"Time is short.  Events speak where words fail, so you had best see for yourself."  Silently, a red portal appeared beside Tyrael.  "This portal will take you to Harrogath, last bastion of order on Mt. Arreat.  Go and find Baal, before time runs out."
-Still suspicious, Tearlach snarled, "How do I know where that thing goes?  How do I know it won't dump me someplace where I'll be killed?"
-Tyrael answered impassively, "Where could it go that is worse than where you are now?"
-After a moment's thought, Tearlach shrugged.  "True enough."

Difference between revisions of "Tearlach (Chapter 26)"

Latest revision as of 15:14, 12 February 2017

Navigation menu

Search