Yeesh, ff.net just HAD to go crazy, eh? It's put me off my writing mood. I've only recently gotten it back. Anyway thanks to all the people who've continued to read this. Hopefully I can get Act I done before I get lazy again. =P *Note* I had to upload this fic using .html instead of my usual Microsoft Word .doc file. When I previewed the .doc file, it appeared as one giant chunk of text. Here's to hoping .html doesn't screw this up. And sorry if the font is too small. There's an option here on ff.net where you can make it larger (I think). =(
Oh yes, buy the new Diablo 2 novel "The Kingdom of Shadow" (it put me back to writing mode, it did!). It's the same author (Richard A. Knaak) who wrote 'Legacy of Blood' (D2) and 'Day of the Dragon' (Warcraft). Rest assured, you won't be disappointed by any of those three novels! =D
Disclaimer: Diablo 2 and Lord of Destruction are the property of Blizzard. Please don't sue since I am not making any money from this, and I am a poor poor university student ^_^;;
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For Money or Honor
Chapter Fifteen: Into The Tower Ruins
I stood before it, my head tilted back to gaze into the sky. The Forgotten Tower of the Countess loomed overhead, its broken yet imposing body blocking out the day's sunshine. The mortar that held these giant slabs of stone together were chipped or completely gone. Black slits were what mostly remained between the tower's stones. The large pieces of rock themselves were no longer in order. The Tower's surface was bumpy, various portions having slipped apart from their brethren. I briefly wondered why the Tower hadn't toppled over yet. It barely looked strong enough to withstand a stiff gust of wind.
Apparently it was still sturdy enough to weather out the elements. A soft breeze blew by, and it made the Tower whistle a tuneless melody. Large vines of ivy caressed the structure to its topmost turrets. Perhaps that was the only thing keeping this place in one piece.
Still I waited at the edge of the doorway. Already I could smell the death and decay in there, brought up by the wind. Wrinkling my nose, I stared into the shadows. If this was what a waft of air smelt like from here, I could hardly imagine the concentrated stink I would need to put up with inside.
"Then again, I don't smell like roses either," I talked to myself. It was becoming a habit now, and I suddenly laughed. When I was with Debi, I barely talked to her. But now that I was alone, here I was, gibbering to myself.
Shaking my head slowly, I walked in.
"Ooh, who would want to remember this place?" I muttered, clamping a hand over my nose and mouth. The stench was truly horrible. I stood in the Tower's entrance, just gasping through my mouth. It left a sour taste on my tongue, and I did not relish the thought of using my nose. But I had to; if I needed to fight (Heaven forbid) I would need to regulate my breathing.
Getting used to the horrid smell, I idly watched the shafts of sunlight able to pierce through the cracks in the mortar. Dust motes hung lazily in the air. The thought that I was the first person to set foot in this place for … a long time, chilled me.
"This will just be a simple job. I go in, find treasure, and get out," I spoke to myself again. "After that, I can go to any city or town I want to, and start a new life."
Looking around the room, I saw that it was open to the sky. Rotten wooden planks precariously hung above my head. They were loosely attached to large wooden beams located against the walls.
'So that's why this part of the Tower still stands,' I mused. More green ivy grew through the holes in the mortar, and also crept down from the Tower's top rim. The Tower was hollow inside, with just this room, the sun, wind, and dust in it. The only other way to go from here was …
There.
On the left corner farthest from the door, there was a square piece of darkness. The tops of a ladder poked up from it, and I knew it was the only place the treasure could be. Cautiously, I approached the cellar opening.
The almost unbearable stench rose up to greet me as I neared it. Wrinkling my nose, I gathered my resolve and grabbed the sides of the ladder. It creaked loudly as I carefully shifted my full weight on it. Slowly descending down the ancient equipment, I eventually reached the bottom.
It was hot and dark down here, not at all like the surface. The mustiness amplified the smell, and gave the shadow substance. It seemed to press down on me, foreboding and terrible in its anger for being disturbed.
An unlooked for blessing occurred though. On my right hand, the lower region of my thumb began to buzz. Quickly taking off the heavy glove I wore, I saw that the ring Cain had given me was glowing. It shone a light radius of about eight feet all around me.
"Well then," my spirit lifted at the prospect of some light. In my haste to leave the Rogue camp I had forgotten to get some torches.
"Let's just hope you bring me better luck than your previous owner," I told it. The black stone sparkled at me.
Wearing the ring outside of my glove now, I looked at the wall the ladder was leaning against. Nearby was a giant hole that seemed darker than the surrounding gloom. It looked like something had broken through.
Inspecting the wall, I was that it was newer than the rest of the Tower. Someone had tried to block off this passageway, a long time ago. But what had broken through it? And why?
'The treasure of course,' I told myself. 'Why else would anyone go through this much trouble?'
My heart fell at the thought of someone already beating me to the loot. It was true I already had a sizeable sum … but you might as well get as much as you can before you leave this world.
Looking down, I noticed that at the bottom of the opening, there was a large section of the floor covered in mud. It was dried, but there were bits of fresh grass in it. Large crescent marks pocked the mud's surface. Something had gone down there all right, and it wasn't human.
"There goes the easy part of this job," I mumbled. Wiping fresh sweat from around my lips, I considered my options. I could always leave now, save myself the trouble, and head for the nearest town. Or I could go down there, possibly face demonic monsters, and get even richer.
"I think I know the answer to that," I smirked, and carefully went through the hole in the wall.
Mindful to always keep the ring ahead of me, I gazed at my new surroundings. I was on a narrow landing with a short flight of descending stairs.
"Well at least I won't have to be buried if I die here," I joked as I kept going deeper into the earth. There was no answering noise to my comment. The only response was the soft steps of my feet and the sighing air as I passed through.
I reached the next level of the Tower, and stopped at the foot of the stairs. The room I was in was medium in size, and made of the same stone as the Tower. The air was still as stale and stagnant as before. But what surprised me was the sight of burning torches. They hung on the walls, their light an inviting and ominous sight all at the same time. Staring around the room once more, I saw that there were even stands with several candles lit. Apparently I've come in with someone at home.
But where were they? This place was as quiet as … a grave.
Shaking such dour thoughts from my head, I walked into the musky room. I had gone through all the trouble of getting here; I had better come out with something to show for all this.
The passageways I went through contained dust, cobwebs, and little else. There was the occasional wooden chest, but they only held a handful of gold or battered weapons and armor. Any sign of the great Countess' treasure I could not see.
By the third level, I was feeling more than a bit disappointed. Perhaps someone already had come here and plundered the Tower.
Heedlessly walking through the hallways now, I spotted the entrance to the next floor. When I entered the room though, I stopped where I was. Flanking either side of the opening were several stone sarcophaguses. Painted on the heavy lids were colored images of sober wise men, now faded with dirt and time. A few of them even had images of these men carved from the stone. However what shocked me the most was the sight of a group of cloaked people. They were all huddled around one particular tomb and weeping. They cried so quietly though that I hadn't heard them; their trembling bodies indicated their sorrow instead.
I stood at the end of the room, unsure of what to do. If I wished to continue on down to the next level, I would have to pass them by. They would no doubt question my intentions and me, which wasn't exactly good …
'But what are THEY doing down here?' I thought to myself. 'This place is abandoned, or at least that's what the others in camp said. They may have no right to be here as well.'
Taking a gamble, I cleared my throat loudly, in hopes of getting their attention. The mourners just continued their silent weeping, and I bit my lip in uncertainty.
Finally I tentatively moved forward, purposefully making my steps loud to announce my presence. They still didn't acknowledge me, but I did get to see what they were surrounding.
It was another sarcophagus, but it was made of marble instead of stone. There was gold gilding around the frame, and the lid's face fairly sparkled with small precious stones. Also unlike the other tombs, this one was open. I could see pieces of tattered velvet and silk hanging over the tomb's lip. Bits of bone also protruded into the air. This sarcophagus was obviously defiled, but by who?
As usual, there were more questions than answers. But maybe these people could provide me with some information (and perhaps confirm the existence of the treasure while I was at it).
"Pardon me," I finally called out. "I hate to bother you, but could you help me?"
As if they had practiced this many times, the group looked up and faced me in perfect unison. The hairs on my neck rose as a chilled waft of air hit me. I couldn't see any of their features since they wore their hoods up, but I could see the bottom of their faces. Their skin was pale, almost obscenely white. By their few visible features I couldn't tell their individual genders, but the way their lips was set was indication enough of their collective ire.
"Sorry if I disturbed you in something important," I repeated again, wanting to make clear my friendly intent. "I … I just need to talk to one of you, if it's not any trouble."
"Do you hear that? This little girl wants some help," one of them said in a bitter voice. "What do you want, little girl? Did you get lost? Are you looking for something?"
"Treasure, perhaps?" another one asked in a whisper. I almost didn't catch the words.
"NO!" someone else laughed madly. "She comes seeking death! Why else would someone come to this place?"
"Ah, death," the first speaker grinned maliciously. "That we can help you with."
"Look, that's not why I'm here at all!" I protested, backing up a little as the group fanned out and started approaching.
"But life is such a misery, isn't it?" the second one asked as the six of them kept on coming. "Death is so much better."
"Yes! There's lots of people to talk to in Hell!" the insane voice spoke happily. "So many people shouting and screaming. It's like a party for eternity."
"By the Light!" I gasped as they came even closer. Weaving in and out among the tombs, I had seen a glimpse of their feet. More precisely, I glimpsed their LACK of feet. No part of them touched the ground; their lower section was completely missing.
Gliding through the air, the six figures changed before my awestruck eyes. Gone was the illusion of living people. Their cloaks smoked, emitting a foul smell, before bursting into blue flames. They lit the room as the spectral fire chaotically changed colors. It would have been beautiful if it were not what was within the flames.
Floating inside was the upper portion of a skeleton. Two small horns grew on either side of the crown of the skull, and pale white fire replaced where the eyes would have been. Their arm and finger bones were longer than normal, almost resembling bird wings. In fact they began to flap them as if this was what propelled them along. The vertebrae of their spines trailed down in the air, wagging to and fro uselessly.
"That dried up corpse isn't half as tasty as you will be," the first spoke, its jaw open but not moving at all. "It's been so long since we've feasted on the living."
"Yessss, the Countess hasn't had any visitors in a long time!" the third gigged crazily. "We'll save your blood for her to soak in. Oh, her ladyship does enjoy a good blood bath!"
"I think I'll pass on tea with the Countess," I snapped. "And as for you, in the name of Heaven and all the angels above, I banish you back to the depths of Hell!" With swift movements, I made the sign of the Light in the air.
The ghosts paused, and then the mad one began to laugh in its high-pitched voice.
"A paladin, are we?" it mocked. "No, more like a traveling bard! Sing us a song, bard, while we eat you for supper!"
"It was worth a try," I shot back lamely, and got my wrist blade ready. I was outnumbered six to one, and even if it were just a single ghost and I, the odds would still be against me.
'Well, I hope the same trick works twice,' I prayed silently as my shield arm lowered to my waist. Grabbing the last of the oil potions I found at Tristram, I threw it at a nearby torch stand.
The small glass bottle broke, the tinkling sound almost immediately replaced with a giant 'whoosh' as the oil inside caught fire. Thick smoke filled the room, almost robbing me of breath. But I ignored it, and putting on a burst of speed, quickly ran to the left side of the room. Criss-crossing through the many tombs, I could see the ghosts, though hopefully they couldn't see me. Their ethereal lights were like beacons in the darkness, though these lights offered no safety or comfort.
Wordlessly they began to hiss and snarl with fury. Then again, these apparitions were supposedly full of hate to begin with; that was the reason these souls stayed in the mortal world.
While stealthily weaving among the dead, I headed for the closest glow. Luckily the ghost had its back turned away from me as it tried to peer through the smoky gloom.
"Hah!" I exclaimed loudly, appearing from around a stone tomb. My wrist blade sang through the air, unerringly aimed for the chest. But it only passed through the spectral fire and in between its rib bones. Of course the ghost would have no internal organs for me to strike at …
"Stupid!" I shouted to myself as the ghost twisted to face me, tangling the blade in its bones in the process. It cried out inhumanly, its long 'wing' bones lashing back and forth in an attempt to pierce my side.
Stepping away from the sharp bones, I rotated my blade, desperately trying to pry it free. The weapon clinked against bone, and I heard the damned spirit cry out again.
"Don't like that, do you?" I asked as I pulled my wrist blade free. Before it could turn itself completely around, I made another overhead slash. The enchanted weapon cleanly sliced off its left appendage. It fell to the ground and shattered into a myriad of pieces.
Smiling grimly I started to hack away at the bones, its link to the physical world. It tried to cut me with its remaining appendage, but I dodged them while still powering up for a Tiger Strike.
With a final banished wail the last of its rib cage splintered and the rest of it followed. I felt a cold rush of air as the ghost's light suddenly disappeared, as quick as if some giant being had snuffed out a candle.
"There she is!" the insane spirit shrieked, and I could see its light rapidly approaching. "Come now, my supper! I will try to make it as painful as possible!"
"No thanks, I can't stay for dinner," I retorted, and rushed towards it.
Bursting out from the haze, I unexpectedly encountered another ghost. The smoke was a disadvantage to me now. The ghosts had re-converged into a group. Their combined luminescence, clouded by the smoke, now made it almost impossible for me to see where each individual skeleton was.
Unhesitantly I jammed my wrist blade into a ghost's rib cage area. At the same time I released the pent up energy of the Tiger Strike, and the skeleton blew apart into sharp fragments. The soul of the ghost also vanished without a trace, and I briefly wondered why I didn't See them fly up like I had with the Corrupted Sisters.
Hungrily the four remaining Ghosts descended on me at the same time. Their flailing limbs were a constant danger. One nearly raked my face before I could sweep at the offending bone with my wrist blade. The appendages scraped against the reinforced wood of my small shield, and combined with the wails of the ghosts, made a horrendous cacophony of noise.
Striking out now with the urge to survive, rather than any notion of bravery or justice, I somehow managed to kill two more ghosts. Panting heavily, I glared at the remaining two who had backed off a little.
"What say we call it a draw?" I asked, wiping sweat from my cheek. I felt something thicker smear against my hand. Looking down, I saw bloodstains on my glove.
"We can't do that, even if we wanted to," the first voice, the leader it seemed, spoke vehemently. "You see, we first came to the Tower when the Countess was alive. We were attracted by the blood, carnage, and horror this place held. But when a lynch mob killed her … her spirit also remained. Bound to the Tower already, the Countess further trapped us here by placing us in her service. So you see, it is our duty and pleasure to kill any mortal who dares come here for her treasure."
"So … in payment for killing these treasure hunters, the Countess gives you … some treasure in return?" I asked, knowing that the ghosts didn't need the gold, but I sure did.
"Don't be foolish," the second spirit admonished me, still in that whispering voice. "The dead have no need for money, though demons like it just as much as any mortal does. No, in payment for our guardianship, the Countess shares with us some of the fresh blood and meat of the trespassers."
"It isn't enough nowadays, with no one coming to the Tower any more," the leader spoke as it slowly advanced. "And with those goatmen down there vying for human flesh and blood as well, it's a wonder that us ghosts don't just fade away with hunger."
"Luckily they are also placated with some of her treasure," the second gaped its mouth at me. "And also fortunately … we get to eat first, this time."
Even though I was on guard, the two rushed at me so quickly that I was caught off balance. I barely managed to raise my small shield in time to block the deadly blow from my left, but the ghost on the right struck true.
I swore loudly as I felt the long bone fingers rake against my studded leather armor. I could feel the resistance as the ghost left a long gash mark, but I knew it did not draw any blood. However I could feel a coldness seeping through, draining me of my energy. I reversed immediately, trying to regain my equilibrium. My feet sent bone shards skittering everywhere, some even being crushed to powder as I stepped on them. But the two ghosts came forward to press their advantage.
'Great, Mez, you've gotten yourself into another fine mess,' I thought to myself. 'Like they said, the dead have no use for gold.'
I suddenly fell on my rear end, my feet tangled up in a large piece of bone. I lost my grip on my wrist blade, and it clattered to the ground.
Opening their mouths wider, the two ghosts bore down on me, eager to feed off my body. And in their excitement, the two jostled into each other.
They stopped, their blood lust curbed by the contact. The leader, the one on the right, started moving forward again. Being the superior of the two, he apparently got first bite. But not before I grabbed a sharp section of bone left by its fellows. Swinging my arm outward, I let the shard fly. It didn't have far to go since the ghost was already leaning towards me.
With an ear splitting shriek, it clawed at its left eye, the bone protruding from the socket. Though there wasn't any eye for the bone to injure, the whitish fire within was apparently substational enough for it to hurt.
Rolling away from the duo, more bone leaving bloody marks on my exposed skin, I grabbed my wrist blade once more. Using the momentum, I rolled up into a ready position, bloody, bruised, but not beaten.
Looking at the two, I saw that the leader had pried out the bone fragment. It threw the piece at me, which I neatly ducked under.
"No one strikes at Cold Touch the Pitiless," it snarled as they came against me once more. "I shall enjoy eating out your still beating heart from your chest."
"Well you could use some fattening up," I quipped as my blade hand went to my hips. From a leather holster I took out some throwing knives, and without further words, pitched them at the ghosts. The leader covered its face, and the weapons were harmlessly deflected. Its companion wasn't so lucky.
A dreadful scream rose from within it as two of the small blades pierced its eyes. A stream of white flames poured out of the sockets and it madly clawed at its own face. The sharp points of its limbs wreaked havoc on the skull, each slash removing chunks of its own bone.
"Stop that, you fool!" the leader snarled, but the other wouldn't listen. In a few short moments, all that was left of it was another pile of bones.
"Looks like it's just you and me," I smirked at the remaining spirit.
It turned around and hissed at me, its last remaining eye flaring white.
"I commend you on your resourcefulness, thief. But not even the goatmen dare challenge me. You shall join the ranks of the dead, as the entire world should be doing soon."
"What do you mean?" I asked, playing for time. We warily circled each other, neither breaking eye contact.
"Oh, haven't you heard?" it asked in mocking tones. "Diablo, Lord of Terror walks among men now. Soon the hordes of Hell shall pour forth into Sanctuary, and no one shall escape Death's embrace."
"There will be many who will stop him," I replied. "And Heaven won't sit idly by while all this happens."
"Heaven," it spit the name out like it was a foul word. "Do you see any angels here? Do you see any warriors from above? No, all there is and will be are hatred, destruction, and terror!"
Cold Touch lunged for me again like he did last time, but I was ready for him. Ducking under his sweeping blows, I dived underneath him. The rainbow colored lights, the ghost's ethereal aura, lapped at my body. It was like jumping head first into a cold river in the middle of winter, but the force of my dive got me through to the other side. Standing up in one swift motion, I whipped around and struck at him. My wrist blade whirred through the air and struck a vertebra of his spine. It snapped from the rest of the column and shattered on the stone floor.
Roaring in pain and rage the ghost turned to face me. But my blade was already up at his face. Its quick turning movement drove the point of the blade through its cheekbone. The blade angled up, and I stepped forward, driving the weapon further inside.
The spirit clawed at me, slashing the armor at my back, but I didn't let up. We stood close together now, and the only way we would separate was when one of us died. And I had promised myself already that it wouldn't be me.
With one final push, I jammed the blade in deeper. It broke through the cheekbone and emerged into Cold Touch's right eye socket. It opened its mouth, the jaws full of sharp teeth, and let out the most terrible cry I've heard yet. Bit by bit it crumbled to the floor, until its flame was blown out. The skull fell to the floor with a loud crash, and it disintegrated into a million parts.
Stepping away from the cold spot where the ghost had been, I sat down heavily on the lid of a sarcophagus. Everywhere I went there seemed to be some demon, zombie, or some kind of creature intent on eating me alive. It was not the most gratifying of experiences. In all honesty, the thought scared me to my heart.
"Okay, Mez, just calm down," I told myself. I lowered my head in between my knees and took regulated gulps of acrid air. After a few minutes of quiet breathing, I looked up to the doorway again. Downstairs there would be goatmen, and probably the damned soul of the Countess. But also there would be treasure, unimaginable wealth if the old tome I read was correct. It better be true since I've had little to show for it so far.
Gritting my teeth, I re-adjusted my armor, ignoring the many nicks and scratches in the leather. Come Heaven or Hell, nothing would stand between me and my money.
