Tearlach (Act II)

Template:Tearlach nav The caravan traveled east over the wastes of Aranoch. Waste was a good word; Tearlach never saw such a gods-forsaken land in his life. Over the whole trek down from the Rogue's pass, all he saw was scuttling bugs, carrion birds, and a few tiny little patches of water. What could carrion birds eat out here? They'd have to find something dead, and there was just nothing. At each miserable oasis, Warriv had to bargain with this or that tribe for the right to water the animals. The tribesmen were tall but skinny, their skins burnt dark by the searing heat, and all went armed with spears and slick little curved swords. Respectable, even if a true man could snap one in two with his fingers.

As zealously as the tribes guarded their water, they were generous with food. Where they got it, Tearlach wouldn't guess, but a generous host is a good host. The food was strange, mostly bread and a cake of some meat-like stuff. Though he'd seen a few rabbits (as thin and scraggly as everything else here) he doubted the meat was rabbit. Naturally, he wolfed it down to show his hosts how good their food was. Taste didn't matter in the end. Very likely he'd get thirds and fourths of whatever-it-was -- or so he thought, before the spices kicked in. His face went pink... then red... then purple as his sinuses melted and ran out his ears. Trying to scrub his mouth out with sand seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do. Everyone else thought it was pretty damned funny, so Tearlach had to eat more, just to show them he could take it.

When a host is free with food, it is only proper for the guest to be just as generous, so when he could breathe again, Tearlach did his best to repay his hosts. Without family of his own to provide meat and drink to share, he made do with gems and gold, and tales of his brave deeds in the Rogue's pass. His stories impressed them greatly; they laughed, clapped, and sang strange chants to encourage him. It wasn't until they were nearly in Lut Gholein that Warriv told him the local tribesmen didn't speak his language, and couldn't understand a word he said. They all thought he was very entertaining anyway, and liked the gem chips.

As they approached Lut Gholein, sparkling with lights in the distance, darkness suffused the air, though the sun was still as bright and hot as a master's anvil. Vultures and hawks soared in the burning sky; at night, strange shadows moved among the dunes. Now and then, they came across a wrecked wagon. Sometimes, bodies lay nearby, withering up in the dry wind. Other times, there were no bodies. The merchants were worried, of course, but Warriv was sure a large caravan like his should be safe. Tearlach knew better; a larger group just means better pickings for those brave enough to take it. But anyone used to attacking fat helpless merchants should know better than to try anything with him.

The day before they reached the city, the first demons attacked: corrupted cliff lizards, jumping around and trying to kill the animals. They were tough, but not tough enough, and Tearlach knew Diablo had to be near. After getting to the city, he'd ditch these stupid merchants and get back to the hunt. Well, maybe not as fast as that -- he still had no idea what people ate or where to find it. He was a warrior, not a hunter. So, when the caravan entered Lut Gholein's western gate under the red light of a setting sun, Tearlach went to look the place over. Naturally, it could have little to offer a child of Bul-Kathos, but it would be good to know where food and drink could be had.

Some young pup in a fancy blue robe was talking with Warriv. As Tearlach walked by, he put his arm out to stop him. "Greetings, honored traveler. I bid you welcome to --"

"Out of my way, stripling. Isn't your mother looking for you?"

"I am Jerhyn, lord of Lut Gholein. Warriv tells me you are responsible for opening the pass for travelers once again."

"Aye, that I did. How'd you get to be lord of anything, anyway?"

"My father died recently, and left to me the stewardship of his city. It is a great burden, but one I hope to rise to."

Tearlach snorted. "Your eldest warrior?"

"Kaelan is captain of my guard... he's at my palace." Looking Tearlach up and down with a bit of distaste, Jerhyn said, "Ah, I'd invite you in, but it's a bit of a mess just now."

"A luxurious mess, then? I care not for your fineries, I seek prey here." After thinking for a moment, Tearlach asked, "Has a demon lord been here?"

"A... demon lord?" Jerhyn rocked back on his heels nervously. "Well, a cloaked wanderer did come here from the west some weeks ago. Terror has followed in his wake, and my city has been besieged ever since. They gather nightly outside the walls, and attack in the darkness; I have had to hire mercenaries to keep my city safe."

"Good," Tearlach grinned. That sounded like something a demon lord would do. "Where did he go?"

"He sought the location of an ancient tomb, where Tal Rasha is buried. The Light be praised, we did not tell him; none now know the tomb's location, save that it is out in the deepest deserts."

"Hmm... sounds like a long walk. I'll need food and drink, to start with."

"Atma's tavern is near the eastern gate, you'll find both and good company there. A soft bed can be had from Elzix, whose inn is by the northern wall."

"Soft beds? With my destiny at hand? Distract me not with comforts, I have no need of them. Hmm... Atma sounds like a woman's name."

"She is. Her husband died recently, so she runs the inn now."

"A lot of people died recently around here. Sounds like my kind of town."

After Tearlach left, Jerhyn asked Warriv, "What was the hold-up in the pass?"

"Well, the Rogue Monastery had been taken over by the demon queen Andarial. Between you and me, I'm sure the cost of entering the pass would be only slightly higher than what the Rogues charge, but I wasn't willing to pay that price."

"That is terrible news! We'd heard nothing from the west for weeks, and with the troubles we've had here, I assumed the worst. Things may be worse even than that!"

"That may be, my lord. Fate is taking us from the frying pan to the fire, and we don't have enough marshmallows to go 'round."

"Uh... yes," Jerhyn looked a bit confused. "Warriv, night is falling and the gates must be closed. Your caravan will be fine here, we must seek Drognan's council immediately."

For a while, Tearlach wandered the streets of Lut Gholein. It wasn't that he was lost, of course. It's just that this was a huge city, bigger than any he'd ever seen or heard of. Even Sescheron wasn't said to be this big. The whole city was lit up, with torches and lamps on every roof, and all around the walls. Outside, he could hear inhuman snarls and squeaks, and the spearmen on the walls occasionally killed something that got too close. For now, he'd let the city dwellers take care of themselves. There'd be plenty of time to show them how it's done after he'd had a decent drink and a meal. And none of that weird spicy stuff, either; it was giving him the runs.

Near one wall, a tall desert tribesman in mail was directing the warriors on the walls. This might be someone worth speaking to, if only as potential competition, so Tearlach greeted him. "You must be Kaelan, eldest warrior."

"No. You've got me confused with that pansy in the palace. I'm Greiz. You look like you're not from around here."

"And damn proud not to be. You in charge of these weaklings? Best of a bad lot, I'd say. What's with the funny hats?"

"Stranger, we are the Desert Eagles. We may not look like much, but we're the best this desert has to offer. A damn sight better than the local guardsmen -- they're all over in the palace, keeping the harem girls company."

"Harem girls? I've heard of them." Leering at a passing pair of wenches, Tearlach said, "I have noticed your city's fine scenery."

"Those aren't harem girls. The real ones are in Jerhyn's palace. When the demons came, they all wanted in there where it's safe." Greiz chuckled. "He was happy to oblige."

"That youngster? He wouldn't know what to do with them! What they need is a real man to take care of them."

"If the 'real man' wants to spend all his time in the palace, he can deal with Kaelan. Out here on the walls, we're dealing with a lot worse."

"Demons?" Tearlach snapped his fingers. "Killed hundreds! They're nothing to me."

"Most of 'em aren't too bad. The ones that throw the poison bottles are annoying."

"Poison bottles?"

"Yeah, the cat people. Nasty tempered."

"Not goats, then? Or little red ones?"

"Oh, no, they're complete wimps. You see a few of them in the western desert, but not around here. What's worst are the mummies."

"The cats have mummies? What about their daddies?"

Greiz almost didn't smile. "Preserved dead. The desert dries bodies out pretty good. If you smack 'em around enough, they let out a cloud of poison gas. Say, since you're new in town, why don't you hire one of my men? Can tell you which ones have nasty surprises."

"I don't need help to defeat the lord of Terror."

Eyes widening, Greiz slowly nodded. "Didn't say you did. It's those little annoying demons that get to you, though."

Tearlach sneered. "My honor demands a clean victory over Diablo."

"I wouldn't send anyone up against something like that. But if you can't afford what I charge, that's okay. Not many can."

"The hell I can't!" Slamming a fistful of coins into Greiz's palm, he snarled, "There's for your mercenary! And there's plenty more where that came from."

Carefully, Greiz counted the cash. "Hey, Emilio! You've got a job. He's your new boss."

Blinking, Tearlach looked down at the dark little man with a spear offering his hand. "Hey there. How's it hangin'?" Damn it. Hadn't he just gone through this whole 'help' thing? "I said, I don't need help from you or anyone."

Greiz shrugged. "I make it a policy never to give refunds. Emilio, back on the wall. He can't make up his mind."

"I know damn well what I'm doing!" Tearlach bellowed. "I paid for a mercenary, and that's because I meant to. Got me?"

"Sure," Greiz answered calmly. "Whatever you say."

Damn shifty southlanders... whenever they say 'whatever you say' or 'have it your way' they always seem to get the better part of the deal. Tearlach was going to have to watch these people, make sure they never try anything clever on him. Wandering along the street, he finally came to a well-lit house with large, open windows. Inside, in plain sight to all, maybe a dozen people were gathered. It smelled of good food, and strong ale... this must be the 'tavern' thing the stripling mentioned! Inside, it was warm and smoky; the whole building was saturated with the smell of roast meat and exotic spices. Tearlach bellowed an order for lots of meat and the most expensive drink in the place.

The most expensive drink in the place looked very disappointing. It was a tiny little glass, with maybe a finger's width of very dark liquid, and a mushroom floating on top. As Tearlach frowned at this feeble offering, a voice over his shoulder said "Are you gonna drink that?"

It wasn't often he had to look up to look someone in the face. The face in question was bleary and ill-defined, even though Tearlach hadn't touched the drink yet. "No, I'm going to bathe in it. What's it to you?"

"Oh, hey, don't let me disc'rge you from the whole bath thing, you know what I'm sayin'? But tha's a Black Mushroom, that is. Don't drink that, I'm tellin' ya. Tha's for seasoned professionals only. Moderation is the key!"

"You're afraid of this tiny concoction?" Opening wide, he threw the whole drink back in one gulp, mushroom and all. "Ha!"

That was the last thing Tearlach remembered when he woke up. It was daylight, he was in a completely different building, and was strapped to a bed that was soaked in sweat. A red-haired woman was dozing in the chair next to him. "What's going on?" he shouted. "Where am I? Where are my clothes? Who are you? Release me or I'll --"

The woman, who startled awake at the noise, put a hand on his forehead. For some reason, he immediately felt calm. "Ah, good. The fever has broken. Please don't be angry, but we had to tie you down to keep you from injuring yourself. The seizures should all have passed by now, so we'll let you up."

She was a comely lass, to be sure, and the red hair was an appealing touch. Maybe he was developing a soft spot for redheads... or a hard spot. "Not a problem, lass. Though I think we'd both be happier if I was free... and up."

"I paid Elzix for the room, of course, but you cannot stay here as I do not think you could pay for much longer. I found you out behind Atma's tavern, with a few of the local ruffians. They said they were your friends, and were taking care of you, but I had my doubts. For one thing, they were removing your armor."

"What?!" Throwing the last of his bonds away, Tearlach looked around the room. There was his rucksack, a suit of armor filling it. "Thank the Light! I could not lose that armor, it is a precious heirloom of my family."

"Do you mean the splinted armor, or the plate?"

The Berserker's Hauberk was leaning against the wall, with the helm and axe; what was in his pack? Tearlach looked, and found a completely new equipment kit inside. There was a set of plate, a winged helm of the kind his people make, new boots, gauntlets, another axe, rings and an amulet, several enormous gemstones... and a letter:

Hey, Punch Slamfist!

Don't you know that sometimes the smallest things have the biggest whallop in 'em? You stay away from those mushrooms, they're bad for you. To insure that you stay healthy and wealthy (wise will have to wait) here's some new things for you. You're startin' to outgrow the Berserker's set anyways. Put topaz's in the helm; the sapphires are for the mana you don't have. The axe is Bladebone, which should come in handy around here. Treat the ladies better, don't beat up your merc, and keep going after that whole destiny thing. Mr. Manmuscle, you are truly on track to success. Don't blow it now!

-- The Mule