Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 23)"

Latest revision as of 17:32, 12 February 2017

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Varnae (Act IV)#Chapter 23

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-Dear Diary,
-Heaven's Fortress possesses an austere beauty, but more than compensates with its lack of amenities.  None of the physical comforts which give the merely mortal joy are to be found within these walls, with the exception of the fireplace, and even that burns with an eternal flame which produces no warmth; I can stand directly in it and suffer no harm.  Of food and drink, there are none.  Never mind that I have felt no need to partake while in this unearthly place -- there is more to dining than the satisfaction of bodily requirements.  Sleep is also unnecessary: last night I merely rested, lying on the floor without even a cot to save my back.  There are no furnishings, not even chairs, nor anything soft or comfortable.  While I realize this is a military emplacement, that seems to me to be taking things a bit too far, but simple pleasures appear to be beneath Heaven's consideration.  Nothing here is unpleasant, but nothing brings joy, except the quiet contemplation of staid perfection, for those who like that sort of thing.
-If I should seem ungrateful to my host, I must protest to the contrary.  For a sharp contrast with conditions in the fortress, one need only step downstairs to find a place where physical sensations are both abundant and extreme, each nastier than the last.  Even the glassy soil seems to crawl under clothing and seek out skin to rub raw with a will of its own.  Should I die, I dearly hope my soul will remain in our world.  Neither alternative is promising.
-After I rested, I rose, but having nothing to look forward to, nearly lay down again.  How absurd that breakfast should assume such an important motivational role!  Nobler sentiments, such as saving the world and all humanity, pale beside the smell of frying bacon.  Memories of good earthy things are all I have to sustain me.
-Pandemonium has been repopulated in my absence; a group of Flesh Mothers lay in ambush at the bottom of the stairs.  These are the most disturbing and disgusting of all Hell's effluvia (having said that, my next encounter is guaranteed to be something even worse), but despite my desire, it is clear that I will never be able to kill them all.  I do not like leaving an enemy alive behind me, but searching them all out would require an army and more time than I can spare.  Avoiding them while driving in quickly and quietly, hoping against hope they do not circle behind and surround me, may be necessary.
-A cliff separates the steppes of Pandemonium from a lower set of plains, with a single narrow set of stairs leading down.  I am going into Hell, so downwards should be the right direction.  In my earlier years, I had imagined my descent into the abyss would be more of a slow and languid spiral of debauchery and dissipation; I certainly should be having more fun.  Hello, a blue Balrog is charging up the stairs.  I seem to recall that Diablo resembles a Balrog.
-The beast was not Diablo, but the fallen angel Izual, who Tyrael asked me to look for.  I had half-resolved not to find him, but it seems he found me.  His body was unusual, made in the form of a common Balrog, but of the same blue crystal Heaven favors for their crystal blades.  Both poison and ice proved poor weapons, so I beat him to death by force.  Once his prison was shattered (there can be no doubt that Heaven built that body) Izual proved even more tedious than Tyrael.  I never would have thought that possible; those who make the best moral examples are usually the worst company.  His joyful ranting followed the predictable pattern of a penny-novel villain, though he did reveal a few tidbits:
-#Tyrael is a fool.  So nice to have it confirmed by an outside source.
-#Tyrael is far too trusting.  Such naiveté is sadly common among the excessively virtuous.
-#The soulstones are not, in fact, spirit traps, but powerful amplifiers of spiritual power.  Given time, the Lords of Hell could focus their energy through the stones and corrupt the mortal realm entirely, turning it into a permanent outpost of Hell.
-#Humanity is doomed, etc. etc. etc.
-Informing the wise and benevolent Tyrael that his bosom friend has always been his greatest enemy would be an act of unjustifiable cruelty, so of course I rushed right back and told him.  The poor thing's wings actually fluttered, he was so upset.  My conscience would not let me leave him in such a state, so I tried to find the silver lining in this mess.  Izual had betrayed Heaven, and should have gained infernal power, but did not and was left open to Heaven's wrath.  A common fishwife would know better than to make a bargain that leaves her open to reprisal.  Izual has lost none of his angelic innocence if he expects Hell to deal with him in an open and honest manner -- in fact, he still believes that his new masters will render unto him his due, though they plainly have no intention of doing so.  Being so foolish, he will be easy to destroy when it comes to that.  Tyrael did not seem to find comfort in the idea.
-Back to business.  From the top of the stairs, I can see structures in the distance, far across the plain.  It looks to be a city, though I cannot imagine who would build a city down here.  Having no other goal before me, I shall make my way there.  The plain is full of foes: great Balrogs, highly resistant to poison even after being cursed; fluttering Wraiths, familiar spirits found in sad and lonely places; and, of course, more Flesh Mothers.  This truly is Hell.  When our lives are not being immediately threatened, Khaleel amuses himself blasting the damned souls we occasionally come across to bits.  It is easy to keep his mind occupied.
-My Bone Armor is proving nearly useless: the bones only intercede against physical blows, and the true danger here seems to be the Wraiths.  How many battles have raged across these plains?  An uncountable number, to leave so many dead behind!  I have heard Wraiths tend to be the souls of children, I cannot imagine so many dying in one place, especially not this place.  Of course, it is also said that a lonely and isolated death is needed to make a Wraith: they should not come in packs.  These must be imported.  Nonetheless, enormous quantities of bones lie scattered across the plain, and not all the dead spirits escaped.  Occasionally, I find one that has taken refuge inside a nest of old bones; after destroying their tormentors, I happily set these free, and often receive material compensation for my trouble.  It is so much easier to be good when it lies in my self-interest.
-From up close, these buildings look no more like a city than they did from afar.  Everything here is huge, at least twice life-size and made of solid iron.  Chains spread like spiderwebs across every archway, hooks dangle from every balcony, and every edge is as sharp as the blade of a knife.  How can buildings be so huge, so unconventional, so threatening... and yet so dull?  Once again, it is confirmed: I am in Hell.
-Could it be that Hell has exhausted its supply of Flesh Mothers?  So far, there are none to be found.  The city is inhabited by Corpulent Demons, parties of undead mages, and some odd flying creatures which are entirely new to my experience.  The Corpulents are as before, perhaps a bit larger and darker in complexion.  The mages are skeletal or mummified, wearing what I take to be Hell's most fashionable armor, and have apparently have retained much of their former intelligence.  Their spells are varied, including Bone Armor and various missiles, and they make good use of the terrain and other creatures while in battle.  Perhaps I'm just fooling myself, but I believe I see a few familiar faces among them.  It is pleasing to see an enemy relying on Bone Armor, and finding it just as useless as I did.
-The last monster I encountered merits a more thorough description, as it is of a type I have not seen nor heard of, and which may be new.  This undead being, in appearance, resembles a flat layer of ribs or insectile legs, arranged vertically with no intermittent spaces.  There is no obvious face or legs, though the outer ends of its "ribs" are capable of some movement.  The creature levitates slowly from place to place, approximately a foot above ground, with no visible support.  In size, one is about the height of a man.  These are Hell's creatures, so naturally they attack on sight.  All are capable of casting a lightning spell peculiar to them, which sends tiny sparks along the ground.  These do little harm, but have the property of seeking out the enemy on their own, with no need to be aimed.  Such a spell, with power behind it, could be dangerous.  While certainly odd, they are not fierce opponents.  Their broad, flat surface provides a large target area, and their thin bodies are easily punctured and broken.  Venom and cold are equally effective.  The lightning spell, which I suspect is instinctive, requires the creature to closely approach an enemy, making their vulnerability easier to exploit.  My instinct is to label them one of Hell's failed experiments.
-A curious observation: in the middle of the city, a mockery of a cathedral stands above a fiery pit.  Its walls and windows were a perfect blasphemy of an earthly house of worship.  The stained-glass windows were an especially nice touch, writhing with unholy images -- until I saw that they actually were writhing, like living things.  Experimentally, I scratched one with the Jade Tan Do, and could see poison crawl through the pane until it shattered and... "died," I believe.  Khaleel destroyed the rest of the windows.
-Something about this city of the damned seemed familiar to me when I entered, and I have just now seen what it is.  At first, I thought these structures might be the remains of siege machines or other engines of war, but that is not the case.  As I walked along a covered walkway, I noted the shapes of the arches, graceful curves of iron with pointed crests in superior and inferior positions at the apex.  Now that I have returned to the Pandemonium Fortress, I see that the fortress's gate is identical, in bronze instead of iron.  Heaven's version of the arch is also more delicate, but the shape is identical.  Other architectural elements favored by Heaven can be seen in the city as well... I did wonder why Heaven would use representations of devils as finials and braziers in their fortress.
-The wise and pure archangel Tyrael denies any association between Heaven and Hell, as he would.  With complete confidence, he assures me that they have always been desperate enemies, and would never borrow architectural elements from each other.  While it is true that the Pandemonium Fortress has devil figures everywhere, they are merely decorative and nothing should be read into them.  Could both Heaven and Hell have "drunk from the same well," as it were, taking inspiration from some common source?  Quite impossible, he insists; nothing else exists, and Heaven and Hell have always been at war.
-Deckard Cain has joined our discussion -- too bad, it was going so well.  The old man seems to think I was terribly unkind to poor Tyrael over the matter of Izual, and that he must come to his rescue lest I be too cruel.  I, for one, think that angels should be able to withstand a few unpleasant truths.  But Deckard, the kind-hearted old dear, reminds his magnificence that Pandemonium was occupied by Heaven during the Sin War.  The city may have been a place for mortal heroes to live and worship during the siege on Hell, and naturally would share some architectural features with the Pandemonium Fortress, which was constructed at approximately the same time.  In fact, if his memory serves (and it always does) there should be a Horadric waypoint in the city, built to serve those heroes of old.
-Back in the city now, looking for this waypoint.  I don't know whether I want to find it or not, it would be so much more satisfying if I could say without doubt that Heaven and Hell have common features, perhaps even a common origin.  Tyrael would be so vexed, I'll wager he might even raise his voice.  None of this alters the necessity of my quest; the soulstones must still be destroyed.  Nevertheless, walking out of Hell with verified knowledge that could embarrass Heaven would be so very satisfying...
-Damn, there's the waypoint, next to a hole blasted down into Hell.  A set of floating stairs bridges the gap between Pandemonium and the River of Flame, Hell's outermost moat and favorite staging area.  It seems the city and cathedral were built by or for Heaven; Hell took them over and corrupted them.  Ah, well; at least the question of how a city so impressive could also be so boring has been answered.  Down below, the River of Flame glares painfully bright after so much time in Pandemonium's gloom.  I could go down, but I am tired and the waypoint is here... oh, bother the fortress.  A night of sleep, REAL sleep in a bed, will be just the thing for me.

Difference between revisions of "Varnae (Chapter 23)"

Latest revision as of 17:32, 12 February 2017

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