Amanita (Act V)

Template:Amanita nav One second, the air was hot and dense, stinking of rot and burning flesh. Then it was ice, stabbing at my face and stinging my lungs. I hate traveling by gate, there's no time to acclimate yourself. Cain and I were standing in an empty street, next to a high stone wall. Snowflakes flurried aimlessly underneath a shining force dome. Judging from the dome's arc, it covered a smaller area than Hratli's. I smelled smoke, not all of it from wood, and heard bellowing, clanging, and what sounded like thunder.

"The city of Harrogath!" Cain smiled. How he could be shivering with cold and still happy was beyond me. "This is a truly historic moment: no outsider has ever been so deep in the Barbarian highlands. I do not expect we will receive a warm reception. Outsiders are not welcome here, on pain of death."

"I don't think we'll find anything warm around here," I said, wishing I had a real helmet for once. I've heard you lose something like half your body heat through your head, and I can believe it. "Well, the 'pain of death' part sounds pretty heart-warming."

"The thought does get one's blood flowing, I suppose..." Cain looked around. "I can hardly believe this! You see the grotesques on that building? That style has not been seen in our lands for centuries. Yet, to look at them, they might have been carved yesterday!"

"For all we know, they were. If you ask me, this isn't much of a city. It's tiny. I can see the far wall from here."

Cain stood as straight as he could, and squinted. All those years of compulsive reading must have done a number on his eyes. "Oh. I believe you're right. Though that is to be expected: the Barbarian tribesmen are not reputed to be city-dwellers. They are nomads who roam the hills and mountains of their homeland as free the air, taking what they wish from nature, making no home nor ever needing one. I have heard they hardly even leave footprints in their ceaseless treks."

"Huh. Wouldn't think guys like that would make good wizards."

He laughed. "All accounts agree that Barbarians hold the magical arts in contempt. I have no idea what they will think of you. Perhaps I should try talking with them, in the hopes of cultivating their trust. We may be here for some time."

"Tell 'em Tyrael sent you. I'm wondering who made the force dome."

Frowning, Cain blinked up at the sky. "Hmm. That is peculiar. I wonder if there may be more to these people than anyone suspected."

"Hard to get word out if no one gets in here alive. Sounds like there's a fight outside."

"Baal is here, and no doubt longs to destroy this city as he has everything else that lay in his path. I am amazed to see everything so... untouched."

"Force domes'll do that. As long as there's a fight outside, the Barbs probably won't try to kill us unless we do something stupid. Let's look around."

"An excellent idea! I suggest looking inside that building, out of this snowstorm."

I looked up at the few flakes drifting down. "How about you find a fire, there'll be people hanging around there. I'm gonna go check out that clanging. Sounds like a smithy. I need a few dents hammered out."

We split up, and I went down some stairs to another street. I've never seen stairs on city streets before, Harrogath must be built right into the side of the mountain. The smithy was half in and half out of a rough stone alcove, with weapons and armor everywhere. The smith was the biggest chunk of a man I've ever seen in my entire life. Damn, they grow 'em big in the mountains. Charsi could have broken me in half. This guy could probably break Charsi in half with one arm. He noticed me, jumped a little... and smiled. "Oh, hello."

The smith had a bald head, large ears, friendly eyes, and thoughts like a clear pool of cool water. He looked about as dangerous as a squirrel and a lot less nervous, even if he was slowly munching on something. I instantly liked everything about him. "Hi there. My name's Amy. I'm new in town."

"I am Larzuk, Harrogath's armorer. How did you get here?"

"I sort of flew in. I'm from the south. Sorry if that means I'm under a death sentence just for being here or anything."

He laughed, and shook his head. "Our people have suffered so much since Baal came, I don't think any of us could stand to see more human blood shed. Soon, I fear I'll need to put down my hammer and take up a sword, though I never have in my life."

"I'd heard all your people were warriors."

He laughed again. "Someone has to make the weapons. My family has done so since the days our ancestors walked with the angels. You can't be here as a warrior, are you?"

I'd have thought the armor and weapons would clue him in. "No, I'm just holding this stuff for someone who is. I'm guessing you don't see many women around here."

"Well, there's old Malah, she's been healer here since before most of us were born. Where is the warrior you're assisting? He should talk with Qual-Kehk, our senior man-at-arms. I'm sure he'd like another strong sword arm to challenge Shenk."

Sigh. Sarcasm is obviously not the way to go around here. "Who's 'Shank'?"

"Baal isn't here himself. He's left his most vicious general, Shenk the Overseer, to besiege the city. Qual-Kehk hasn't been able to break through his lines. I don't know what's wrong. Qual-Kehk has never failed us before."

Oh, so Baal's not here. I doubt anyone here knows, they're blocked in under siege. Then something occurred to me: "Say, what have you been chewing on all this time?"

Larzuk spat a lump of something brown into his hand. "A piece of my apron. We haven't had much food here since the siege began. If I chew on something for a while, I don't feel as hungry."

O-kay. "Uh, good idea. I'll go look around some more. See you soon."

Breaking the siege will definitely be the first order of business. Let's hope Baal's army isn't too much tougher than Diablo's. On the south side of town there were a couple more Barbarians, both big and meaty but not even close to Larzuk's size. One was roasting a rabbit that looked like it might last him two bites. The other was just sitting. While I watched, he started to sing what sounded like a battle song, but his voice cracked and it discouraged him. Neither looked up when I walked through. It's not like I expect to turn heads all the time, but they should at least notice a foreigner walking around their city.

The biggest house in town was by the western wall. Not that it was that big -- Harrogath was only about four houses wide, there wasn't enough room for anything more impressive than Larzuk. Outside, near a fire with an empty cook-pot over it, was a thin-faced man who reminded me of a diseased rat. I haven't seen that kind of pallor since my last Necro. If he weren't in such a rugged, manly setting, I'd think he was a Necro, especially after he saw me and that sneer oozed all over his pasty mug.

"Well, well. A Viz-Jaq'taar. Imagine that."

Recognizing my profession is a bad sign. I don't think any member of my clan's ever had a reason to visit these mountains, which means skanky here must have been in civilization at some point. "Hi there," I smiled sweetly, not offering to shake hands. It'd probably feel like strangling a towel rack. "And you are... ?"

"Surprised to see one of your kind here. Why should you take an interest in the Lord of Destruction's assault on my homeland? Even if Baal wished to do so, there are no wizards here to corrupt."

"Where'd the force dome come from, then?"

He stared hard, then smiled. "You have a quick mind, more so than most. Perhaps I should qualify my earlier statement."

"Kind of thought you might."

"As you doubtless do not know, every Barbaric tribe is ruled by an elder. We elders retain knowledge of magic from the old times, when the Druids and our clans were like brothers. Our knowledge was kept hidden until the day Destruction came to the sacred mountain." The smile started to fade as he went on. "The elder Aust foresaw doom sweeping down upon us, so he gathered the elders, and proposed raising the dome over Harrogath. I saw little use in walling our people up inside this death trap, where we would die of starvation long before Baal could be forced from our mountain, but went along with Aust's wishes out of respect for his wisdom. The effort cost the other elders their lives, and while it has kept the walls of Harrogath intact, our people die in droves every day."

By the end of the speech, the guy was honestly angry and frustrated. He was really mad: his mind was a boiling mass of red, he kept stepping from foot to foot, clenching his hands until the knuckles turned white... he couldn't stay still at all. No Necromancer would be that upset about people dying, they don't think death is a problem. "So... what should be done about Baal? My name's Amanita, by the way. I'm after Baal, not a sorcerer."

He frowned, and stared into the fire. I could hear his teeth gritting. "That is the problem now, isn't it? Perhaps we should have sent messengers to your kingdoms, and asked for aid when we still could. Qual-Kehk's pride would not permit it. Ah, I should not lay all the blame at his feet. None of us thought to seek allies. Now we are paying for our foolish pride."

"Uh, yeah. Anyway, I never did get your name."

He looked at me, like he'd be irritated if he could summon up the energy. "I am the elder Nihlathak. A pleasure."

"Thanks. The other elders all died, you say?"

"Yes. The ritual was a great strain, another reason I disapproved of using it."

Hratli put up a bigger dome than this by himself, and is still alive and sinning. These guys must be using some pretty old spells, from back in the days when everyone thought magic was supposed to hurt. "Just one more thing..."

He sighed, head hanging. "You ask many questions."

"Which way to the siege?"

With a snort, Nihlathak pointed northwards. "Do you mean to loot our dead? Or do you believe your skills can succeed where so many others have failed? Follow the smell of roasting human flesh, on which our enemies feast night and day."

Harrogath's only gate was in the north wall. The courtyard was empty except for an old man in gleaming bronze plate, with a huge sword on his back. His hair flowed just so in the wind, his beard was nicely trimmed, and he'd obviously put a lot of work into polishing that armor.

"Hail, warrior," I said, figuring a soldierly greeting would be my best bet. "You must be Qual-Kehk, senior man-at-arms."

"Aye," he said reflexively, looking me up and down, obviously not liking what he saw. "A southerner, here? And a woman? You are a woman, aren't you?"

I guess they're called Barbarians for a reason. Physically, Qual-Kehk was in fine shape, like his whole life was nothing but getting ready for this battle. Mentally... he didn't have a whole lot going on upstairs, and was damned proud of it. "Yeah. I'm here after Baal. Just thought I'd check in before I go out and get myself killed."

"Don't expect anyone to mourn you," he said, completely seriously. "Better fighters than you lie dead in the field, cut down without pity by Baal's legions."

There wasn't much I could say to this guy, even if he'd listen. It was time to get started on my next good deed for the day. "Yeah, I've heard that. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to go see to this little siege of yours. Amy go smash now. Bye!"