This story was originally posted on the PlanetDiablo forums – an awesome community of Diablo fans, which, sadly, no longer exists. Still, I will keep many fond memories from this place and the people I met there :)
It was written mostly for fun, so it may seem a little hastily written in some spots, and some of the jokes may sound weird (sorry about that). If you are a fan of Diablo II, you will surely find many references to the game itself and its characters.
The story consists of 4 chapters and was originally written in 2012, though I have made a few edits in more recent times as well. Enjoy!
Inspiration: The Hall of Heroes itself is partially inspired by a dungeon from Out of the Shadows – a book from the ancient "Dragon Warriors" series. It's an RPG book, similar to D&D in many respects. Very well written too!
The Hall of Heroes
A Diabolical adventure by L. Ivanov
Chapter 1/4 – Legend of the Five
The sun's dim rays could hardly break through the clouds and reach the frigid surface below. The short day could do little to warm these eternally frozen lands, far to the north of the great Mount Arreat, the very roof of the world of Sanctuary.
There was hardly any life in these parts, as even the barbarians, known for their supernatural endurance and survival skills, did not venture into the region. To them, it was known only as "the dead lands" – a place to be feared and avoided. And yet there were several small human figures, slowly trudging through the snow, making their way north. The barbarian tribes were rarely hospitable to visitors, yet these unlikely travelers were the kind that barbarians trusted the least – treasure hunters.
The man leading the group stopped for a second to check an old piece of parchment covered with what seemed to be a crudely drawn map and several paragraphs of text written in different languages. He squinted against it, then put it back into his pocket. He frowned – he could hardly feel his fingers in the biting cold. The man behind him stopped as well and pulled down the scarf that covered his mouth.
"Hey Basta... Bastaran, how much longer? Are we there yet?"
Bastaran, one of the most renowned adventurers, mercenary captains, and treasure hunters of the western kingdoms found out that, for the first time in his life, he could not give a clear answer. One could easily lose all sense of time and direction in this wasteland.
"We are getting closer," he said, not as much to convince his fellows as to reassure himself. He pointed towards a nearby natural ledge in the side of a steep snow-covered hill that towered above the rest of the landscape. "The night will fall soon. We'll make our camp there. We've had enough for today!"
The men grunted with approval and picked up the pace. A fire and some relatively warm food were the best cure for the exhaustion of a day's walk through this treacherous land. If only they had a few more sips of Bastaran's home-made brew, the evening could have been almost perfect. The mean drink was good for drinking, and even better as fuel, as it burned hotter than the fires of Hell itself.
The travelers' fire was the only light within the endless black sea surrounding them. The howling wind was the only sound besides their voices and laughs. Four figures sat around the fire, engaged in conversation.
"So, Basta," started a dark-skinned man with the appearance of a pirate from the Twin Seas, which wasn't quite far from the truth, "You do remember that you promised to tell us about that funny nickname of yours – the one you have in the village where you grew up."
"Damn it, Chaugran," Bastaran replied, "You just won't let it go, will you? All right then, listen up folks..." Bastaran stood up for a better dramatic effect. "Back in my village I am known not only as the best hunter and brewer in the entire region. For many years I have been known as... Bastaran the Fallen! A name earned after numerous nights of drinking contests that ended under the table."
The silence that followed was truly dramatic, until it was broken by the men's hysterical laughter.
"Bastaran the Fallen, eh?" replied a tall man wearing a medallion of the Kingsport merchants' guild, "Many times I have drunk to the point of falling down from my bar stool, yet no one has ever called me Baldric the Fallen... they would only go as far as to say – Hey, Baldric, you have fallen!"
"You forgot to mention how many times you fell off the horse... and you were quite sober then, weren't you?" added the fourth member of the group. With the hood removed, it was now clear that it was a woman, her long blond hair giving away her Amazonian descent, "It's good for you that your life doesn't depend on your skill with the bow and arrow. These shaky hands won't do you much good. Or the missing sense of balance."
"And still you keep mocking me, Alystra, even though I saved you from that band of barbarians that had you cornered a few days ago. Or perhaps you have already forgotten about that?" Baldric replied.
"If you saved anyone, it definitely wasn't me," Alystra smiled, "You just prevented those filthy men from having their arms and legs broken."
"This is all very nice and inspiring, "Bastaran interrupted, "But we do have a few important things to discuss. We are nearing our goal and it is time I told you exactly what we are after."
"The Hall of Heroes!" Chaugran exclaimed, "If it didn't sound so good, I would not have joined you. Merchant traffic through the Twin Seas is particularly rich during this time of the year. The loot in this place has to be exceptionally sweet if it can bring you all the way up here... and us as well."
"Indeed," Bastaran continued, "Now I want you to listen carefully because this is something big, above and beyond simple grave robbing, diving into sunken ships, breaking into the Sultan's palace or any other of our previous quests that you can think of. This is a lot more dangerous but the reward promises to be of legendary proportions."
Bastaran paused for a moment and looked at the sky. There wasn't a single star to be seen. This always made him sad.
"I am sure that you have all listened to epic legends of great heroes fighting evil and saving beautiful princesses. Most such tales usually involve three such heroes – a brave warrior, a charming scoundrel (just like you, Chaugran) and a talented wizard. Together they dispense justice, find fabulous treasure, and earn eternal glory. The only problem is – they are all fictional characters. The tales are entertaining, yet they never truly happened."
Bastaran paused again. He pulled a small parchment from his other pocket. There were five human figures drawn on it.
"Some legends, however, are unlike the other. There is more truth to them than you may think. They tell of an unusual party of five extraordinary heroes – an Amazon, a Necromancer, a Barbarian, a Sorceress, and a Paladin. It is said that these heroes would arise and band together in times when the world of Sanctuary is in great peril. Most of these tales are about past battles, and there is even one legend of a great conflict in the future, when the greatest evils of the Burning Hells will besiege our world, and the five heroes would assemble for the last time, to vanquish the enemies of all life!"
The speech had the desired effect. Bastaran's companions were standing completely still, listening to his story.
"The legend that we are interested in, my fellows, is the oldest of them all. It tells of the five heroes' exploits during the conflict known only as... the Sin War. That was a time when angels and demons walked among humanity, in disguise, trying to earn the favor of mortals for either side, in order to tip the scales of the eternal Great Conflict between Heaven and Hell. That was a time when humanity faced the greatest threat to its existence, and if it weren't for heroes like those five brave souls, our future might have been quite bleak."
The adventurers' impatience was clearly showing on their faces. Bastaran noticed that and moved on to the most important part of his story.
"In order to fight the growing influence of the Burning Hells, the heroes needed something to give them an edge, a decisive advantage over their relentless enemy. The enigmatic Archangel Tyrael, the only one of his kind to ever take the side of humanity and actively seek to help us in our struggle, shared some of his infinite wisdom with the Amazon people, the Priests of Rathma, the Barbarian tribes, the Zann Esu clan of sorceresses, and the sacred Order of Paladins. Each of these five peoples used this knowledge to craft one unearthly artifact, which was to be wielded by their greatest champions. Brought together (and wielded by the legendary heroes), these five artifacts were one of the greatest forces the world of Sanctuary has ever witnessed. They could wipe out entire armies in the blink of an eye, crush fortresses into dust, split mountains asunder, blacken the sun, and cause all kinds of natural calamities, which are undoubtedly quite exaggerated, as is typical for legends and folklore tales."
Bastaran did not have to look at his comrades to know that they were still speechless.
"When the fires of the Sin War died out, the five heroes decided that the artifacts were too powerful to be left in the hands of simple mortals. Therefore, they ventured into the coldest and harshest of lands, the eternally frozen north, where they constructed an underground vault – the Hall of Heroes. The hall is separated into five chambers... and each of them holds one of these legendary artifacts. This, my friends, is the prize that we are after. And since you keep asking how much longer until we reach this place, you will be pleased to hear that we have arrived."
Bastaran's companions finally started moving. Baldric was the first to react to what they had just heard.
"Well, Basta, I always knew you were insane, but if this treasure is even remotely as good as you say it is – I'd gladly go insane myself just to be able to share your joy when we finally get our hands on it!"
"I am glad you are so eager to help," Bastaran replied, "We have followed all instructions very precisely up to this point. There is only one last thing to do, and our dear Alystra is the one to help us. The ancient scroll says that once we have reached the southern side of the tooth-shaped hill, we are to take fifty steps around its base, exactly like an Amazon on the trail of a wounded Cimmerian Panther. Alystra?"
"I know exactly what that means, Basta," she smiled in response, "Just tell me where to start from and what direction I should take."
"I knew I wouldn't regret taking you with us," Bastaran said, "Our campfire lies in the exact starting point. Move in the direction followed by the winter sun during the season when the horizon burns with the deepest of blood-red. You should already know what that means, as we got this information from those kind barbarians whose arms and legs you intended to break..."
Alystra did not need a second invitation – she started walking in the correct direction in a peculiar manner. The men watched very carefully, yet none of them could remember and repeat her moves afterwards.
Alystra stopped under a small rock outcropping. It looked almost like an entrance to something, yet there was no door. The ice-covered wall was completely smooth without any sign of anything hiding behind it.
"Well, my friends, this is it. Now we will find out if the Hall of Heroes is real or merely a stupid old legend. Chaugran, did you bring the tool I requested?"
"Of course." – The pirate opened his backpack and produced a small wooden container with a small rope coming out of it. "The fuse is still dry. Good."
He placed the container next to the featureless wall and ignited the small piece of rope.
"Stand back!"
A loud explosion broke the silence, sending resounding echoes across the vast frozen wastes. When the smoke cleared, Bastaran stood in front of the torn wall with his eyes closed. He waited for about a minute, then opened them.
There was a tunnel beyond the hole in the rock and a vague light was visible somewhere in its depths. Bastaran had spent so much time preparing for a potential disappointment that he was quite shocked to realize that the Hall of Heroes was indeed beckoning him.
"Blessed ancestors," murmured Baldric, "The damn thing is real. All these obscure tales and tavern stories have actually led us to real loot! Well, what are waiting for, let's..."
"Not so fast," Bastaran interrupted him, "While the Hall of Heroes holds prizes beyond the wildest fantasies of greed, it also contains numerous devious traps and trials for one to prove his worth. We must proceed carefully. Chaugran, light up a few torches and put the campfire out. We don't need any unwanted attention, even in such a desolate place. One can never be too cautious... Pack up the gear and ready your weapons. We are going in..."
As all preparations were finished, the four treasure hunters assembled in their standard battle formation. This is what they usually did when they were about to enter an ancient underworld, yet this was promising to be unlike anything they had experienced so far.
Standing against the howling wind, Bastaran the Fallen took a deep breath and stepped forth into the greatest quest of his life...
