Thaddeus (Chapter 29)

Template:Thaddeus nav The proud are forced to abase themselves before

the Light, but the lowly stand and are saved.

We deliver the innocents of the world to justice;

You will be delivered into righteous glory

Through the cleanliness of your hands.

-- The Book of Radenis, c. 22, v. 28-32

Thaddeus walked to the gates of Harrogath, where several Barbarians stood in their battle gear. They were certainly well armed, often with another sword or axe instead of a shield, but none seemed to bother with more protection than a helmet. There was plenty of armor available, if Larzuk's armory was any indication.

"Hail, fellow warriors. Have you --"

"What do you mean, fellow warriors?" one spat. "Look at Mr. Shiny-Britches here, 'fellow warriors!' Don't he look pretty?"

All of them laughed, far more than was really necessary. "He must be scared! Look at the little guy! With all that on, he might be half my size."

"And he's got a shield to hide behind! Baal's troops don't use arrows, fool!"

"What do you want around here, anyway? You don't belong here! Run home to your mammy, you coward. This is work for men!"

Nodding, Thaddeus slowly said, "Actually, I meant to ask you something, but you have just answered me. Who will be leading you against Baal?"

"None! We have no leaders, all are equals!"

"You little striplings from the southern lands take orders from kings and generals! Anyone tries that with me, I'll smash his face in!"

One Barbarian laughed. "Makes you feel better, I'll give you orders! Fetch me an ale, little boy! Ha ha! What'd you think of that?"

"I didn't think there was any ale here," Thaddeus calmly answered. "I would have guessed that you've drunk it all already."

"That we have," one snorted. "We might have left a thimble-full for you! I'd guess that's all you could take!"

"Naw, don't give the little guy ale! He'll piss himself when he sees Baal's troops and get his nice shiny suit all rusty."

At that point, the gates of Harrogath were opened. With a tremendous yell, the Barbarians beat their chests with their fists and sallied forth, running onto the battlefield. Thaddeus walked behind, wondering what Baal's troops would be like. Surely, they couldn't be worse than anything in Hell itself. There were demons outside the gate, small one with leathery skin plating their backs and shoulders; they probably wouldn't have been dangerous if the Barbarians had stayed in a tight group. Instead, after racing each other out the gate, they split up and attacked in a frenzy, making no attempt to coordinate their attacks, protect each other, or even avoid being hit. Thaddeus couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The demons were obviously familiar with Barbarian tactics. They waited in clusters of 5 or 6 individuals, just enough to surround a single screaming-mad Barbarian and cut him to ribbons. Concentrating, Thaddeus ran up behind the nearest Barbarian and began casting Blessed Hammer. The blessing of Saint Maccabee protected the man from the whirling hammers, but Baal's minions were struck down. After thinning the herd enough that the Barbarian could take care of himself, Thaddeus ran to the next, repeating his performance. Moving upwards past the resentful Barbarians, he began to see old fortifications built into the sides of the hills. There were trenches filled with stakes, or flat areas for siege engines. Their layout seemed to reflect a theory of warfare the southern lands abandoned centuries ago as too simple-minded. Any reasonably intelligent opponent could move around them easily. Baal's demons got more use from the fortifications than the Barbarians ever would have.

None of these demons were ones Thaddeus had fought before, but the texts of Zakarum described them well enough. The small leathery ones were slaves to an overseer, great fat things armed with whips. The slaves were no great threat unless charged into a suicidal frenzy by an overseer; they would then run to an enemy and explode, sacrificing their own body to serve their master's will. Without slaves between themselves and an enemy, the overseers were nearly helpless, but getting rid of their "wall of exploding meat" could be tricky. Here on the foothills, there were no overseers. The only other demons were Death Maulers, extravagantly named creatures made partially out of stone and metal. They had a trick of extending long tentacles from their arms, burrowing underground to strike up at an enemy. To Thaddeus' surprise, they could do this across trenches, the tentacle snaking among the stakes and bursting out on the other side.

The catapults Qual-Kehk had warned Thaddeus about were siege machines manned by a few Death Maulers. They had been set on the platforms, and would have rained death down on Harrogath if any were close enough. Their range was great, but not that great. At least the Barbarians hadn't built too many things their enemies could use. Since they couldn't be used on the city walls, the catapults were loaded with alchemical explosives for use against men. Every now and then, a ball of fire or ice would burst where Thaddeus had been a moment ago. If he kept moving he was reasonably safe, and it was easy to destroy the catapults once he was close enough.

Meanwhile, back in Harrogath, Cain was trying to speak with Qual-Kehk. "The battle with the Lord of Terror was surely the worst, but he has seen no need to speak of it."

With a snort, Qual-Kehk intoned, "IF he defeated Diablo, it was by accident and he is too ashamed of his weakness to tell of it. This Paladin you brought with you may be a fine priest, but he is not much of a man."

"Surely, someone who had defeated two Prime Evils in combat does not need to prove himself any more..."

"A warrior's reputation is everything. When I spoke to him, I called him a coward to his face. A man, a warrior, with any pride would have struck me. He answered with meek and mewling words, obviously afraid of an old man. The words of a coward mean nothing to me. I cannot believe he defeated Hatred and Terror, no matter what anyone says."

"No, no... he would not strike you, out of deference to your great reputation! You may remember, he said he heard your name many times."

"Hmm, that may be so," Qual-Kehk said, puffing out his chest. "It would be foolish to strike at me, so perhaps he is simply not a fool. Nonetheless, he did not answer me as a man would have. If he dares to face them, Baal's forces will tear him to pieces."

"Ah," Cain said, pointing to the gate, "here comes one of your men with news."

"Vardhaka," Qual-Kehk smiled. "One of my strongest warriors. He has slain many demons in this siege. What could have brought him back so early in the battle?"

"He looks a bit dejected," Cain said impassively.

Ignoring Cain, Qual-Kehk asked, "What news?" when Vardhaka approached.

"The battle goes well," he muttered. "The siege may be lifted soon."

"What?! Has having one Paladin on the field made us that much stronger?"

"My strength is nothing!" Vardhaka screamed in anguish. "As I went to face the enemy, great bronze hammers appeared out of thin air, and struck them down before I could reach them! Once, I hit one; my axe sent the demon reeling like never before, but before I could attack again, the hammers came from nowhere and killed it! When that shrimp bothers to use his little stick, it hits harder than I, in a fury of blows fast as Heaven's lightning! What good are weapons to us? All of us might as well never have been there at all!"

Cain was pleased to note that Qual-Kehk looked visibly shaken. "Are you wounded?"

"Hardly scratched," Vardhaka wept. "He healed me as he went past."

"Then what are you doing running back here?!" Qual-Kehk demanded. "There is a siege to be lifted, and here you are whimpering in the city square. Have you no shame? I don't care what any southlander does, your place is on the battlefield. Get back out there! Harrogath and our ancestors look on you."

Sniveling a bit, he put his helmet back on and ran out the gate, with far less enthusiasm than he had the first time. Cain looked up at Qual-Kehk, who was frowning and obviously deeply troubled. "I hope nothing is wrong?" Cain said.

"Of course not. What could be wrong? The battle goes well. Events seem to be turning in our favor for the first time in weeks. Soon, there may be cause for celebration." Qual-Kehk paused to touch a wooden fence, then said, "If so, I will be very pleased."

Thaddeus hammered his way through the first set of fortifications into what seemed to be an enemy camp. Great rollers used for crushing city walls stood idle next to tents made from huge bones and skins. The bodies of a few Barbarians, stripped of most of their flesh, hung on meat hooks next to great cauldrons. By now, four Barbarians were moving along with Thaddeus in a group. They seemed to resent it, judging from their baleful looks, but stayed with him. Every now and again, Thaddeus stopped to pray, helping his companions recover from the injuries they insisted on getting. This irritated them even more.

Shenk was not in the camp, so they moved on. Beyond was a cramped defile between a high cliff and a steep drop. As might be expected, the narrows were defended; tiny Imps with big heads and small bodies, almost as small as Fetishes, began teleporting around and hurling balls of fire as they approached. Thaddeus charged into the middle of the group, but Blessed Hammer was not particularly useful here. These little ones kept their distance and peppered him with fire; the Barbarians weren't having much more luck. Finally, Thaddeus had to just chase them down and smash them. They weren't as tough as Fetishes, though they might have been even more of an annoyance.

On a return trip to Harrogath, Thaddeus saw several of the Barbarians he'd gone out with lying in beds in a single building, obviously a hospital. A single old woman he hadn't yet met tended them. Not introducing himself to such a caring person was a tremendous breach of etiquette, so Thaddeus went to meet her.

"Greetings, noble mother. I am Thaddeus, of the order of Protectors of the Word."

"Hello, young man. You need not be so formal. I am Malah, and I welcome you to Harrogath."

"I have been here for some time, but thank you. You are running a hospital for these poor men?"

"It is all I can do to help. You have the look of a warrior to you; if you are here to help too, you need only ask for healing potions or anything you might need."

Smiling, Thaddeus took several healing potions from his pack and gave them to her. "I had been selling these to Larzuk, but you will find a better use for them."

Malah's eyes brightened. "So that's where Larzuk found so many of these. You must be a great warrior indeed to have so little need of them."

"The Light blesses me with healing, and redemption from victory in battle. Your people are stronger than I am, but Heaven aids me directly to aid me in my quest." I also dress and act more sensibly, Thaddeus thought.

"What is your quest? Is it to kill Baal?"

"Of course. It must be done, to save us all."

Malah sighed. "A short time ago, I might have told you to go home, and save yourself the trouble. I do not know why we cannot stand against Baal. Every invasion that came before was defeated easily. Now, I wonder if the Ancient Ones have revoked their blessing in our hour of greatest need, and we are destined to fail in our life's purpose."

Thaddeus shook his head. "I do not know why events have turned out as they have. But the Worldstone is safe, and your purpose is fulfilled. Baal will be defeated."

"That is very good of you to say. You know, I have heard tales of an outlander coming to town, who claims to have defeated Mephisto and Diablo in single combat. Now, I think that has to be you... but you haven't said a thing about it."

"There is nothing to be said. Yes, I defeated Mephisto and Diablo in single combat, but all that effort will be for nothing if I cannot kill Baal. Now please excuse me; the longer I stand here, the closer he comes to his goal."

Beyond the narrows was another open plain full of demons. These must be the reserves, or perhaps they were guarding Shenk. Judging from the bodies, Thaddeus could see that a few Barbarians got this far sometime in the recent past. Most of his compatriots were still with him, so Thaddeus went up the hill, casting hammers repeatedly. By now, he'd seen the great and mighty Barbarians in combat enough to form an opinion. They were indeed mighty, fierce and fast and terrifically strong. But they weren't fighting the demons. They were competing against each other. Racing out the gate, they were trying to prove who was bravest. Those suicidal charges were to show they weren't afraid, even though a sensible person would have been. Avoiding injury in battle wouldn't let them show off how tough they were, which must be they resent healing. It may be a good way for an individual to fight and impress others... but it's no way to win a battle.

As they approached the top of a hill, Thaddeus heard the crack of a whip, and a guttural voice howling orders. Smiling a bit, he hammered through a crowd of Death Maulers up to a group of slaves gathered like a wall around the hill. At the very top, a demon so fat as to be almost globular squealed and shook a great bullwhip. This overseer's bulk would probably make it very hard to kill -- getting any weapon deep enough to reach the vitals through all that fat wouldn't be easy. Its short legs were almost invisible behind the wall of slaves, but its long, spindly arms had almost no strength to them; other creatures had always done the overseer's work for him.

Thaddeus stood at the bottom of the hill and cast Blessed Hammer. As the overseer plied its whip, several of its slaves had swollen with energy, flesh actually protruding from under their body plates. Getting rid of them before they got near would be an excellent idea. Hammers skimmed along the edge of the hillock, tearing through the front rank of slaves. One hit was enough to get the energized ones to explode, messily; their companions did not appreciate this. Unfrenzied slaves would come down the stairs and attack (the Barbarians took care of them well enough) but the exploding ones ran for Thaddeus in a straight line; standing well away from the stairs ensured they would never come near him. Finally, Shenk was alone.

Climbing the hill, Thaddeus stepped over a pile of dead bloody slave-bits to attack Shenk. The overseer's great rolls of flab flopped back and forth as he ran around, howling at his troops to drop everything they were doing and defend him. A few more slaves came from the other side of the hill; Thaddeus started casting Blessed Hammer. All went well until one frenzied slave managed to avoid all them and get right next to him. The explosion was one of the most painful he'd recently experienced; thank the Light that Oblivion Knights never did things like that. Looking out from behind his shield, Thaddeus couldn't see Shenk. Anything that fat and slow couldn't have gone far... where was he?

"You bastard! You killed him," a voice said from below.

Thaddeus looked down the hill at the Barbarian. "What was that?"

"You killed Shenk! Those damn hammer things killed him!"

Next to Thaddeus, a huge pile of greenish goo was dripping off a surprisingly delicate skeleton. It was as though all the fat burst off Shenk's body after he died, and was oozing away from his bones with a will of its own. "Oh, I didn't notice. That's good."

"YOU DIDN'T NOTICE?!"

"My mind was on dealing with his slaves. Now, I'm sure Baal will send another one of his generals to renew the siege, if we give him the opportunity. Let us smash all these catapults and fortify those narrows, to keep Harrogath safe. There isn't much food in town, either; we should get as many of those rabbits over there as we can."

Returning to Harrogath, Thaddeus was pleased to note plenty of Barbarian warriors in the town square, on their feet. The healing potions he'd brought back had done some good. No one was hurling insults either. Qual-Kehk was happy to see the siege lifted, and agreed that fortifying the narrows would be a good idea, since he had so few men they couldn't possibly hold the wider plains. Larzuk was deeply impressed, and apologized for doubting Thaddeus. He'd never expected to hear a Barbarian apologize for anything, so he was very pleased and accepted graciously. There was an odd thing in his footlocker, though -- a maul and three runes, with one of the Mule's notes.

Your humbleness,

Howdy doo! This is the last thing I have for you -- the runeword is "Black." You might try it out on those teleporting Imps; a charge should do the trick. Be good, show them Barbies it's not all about who's got the biggest sword, and keep the faith, brother!

- The Mule

"Black" was not the most pleasant-sounding word, but he was already wearing plate set with the "Stealth," and that wasn't so bad. Thaddeus set the runes in the maul, which came out deep black and icy cold. It was better than his old maul, a sharp maul of the bat he'd held for the occasional charge. After a pleasant supper of roast rabbit and turnips, flavored with wild mountain garlic and sage, Thaddeus began to feel better. He even considered going through the waypoint back to Atma's to pick up some ale; no doubt it would be appreciated by everyone in town.