- "We're too late."

The words fell like a sentence from the paladin's lips.

As he and his companions stepped through the other side of the portal, which shimmered within yet another cairn stone not too far from the cathedral, two things were immediately clear: Tristram had been burned to the ground, and those responsible were still there, playing in the ashes of their devastation. Demons swarmed the town like flies on a corpse, their outlines lit by the last dying embers of the ruins.

The trio's arrival had not gone unnoticed; roving bands of what the Vizjerei called "khazra", abominations in the shape of man and goat twisted together, were assembling at the periphery, bleating in alarm or bloodlust, Galen could not say which. More and more of them emerged from the town, their eyes reflecting the dull red glow of the aftermath.

- "So all of this was for nothing?" Aan complained.

- "Not for nothing," the paladin retorted as he strode forward, a grim expression set upon his features. "We can't save Tristram, but we can avenge it."

- "There may yet be survivors," Dana suggested, though her words rang hollow even to herself. She planted her spear in the ground and drew her bow. "Either way we have to clear the town of demons."

- "Carve a blood-road through the goatmen first, ask questions later," the northman confirmed as he hefted his broadaxe.

- "CHARGE!" Galen roared as he launched himself forward shield first. Aan uttered a guttural cry and followed suit.

The khazra, who moments before were rushing in a frenzy towards the intruders, suddenly stopped in their tracks at the sight of these two lone warriors charging towards them.

Just as they found their courage and started moving forward again, Dana's arrows began to slam home into their ranks, instantly felling every target; their armor was too crude and haphazard to offer any real challenge to the amazon's masterful aim. Nine of them had already fallen when the paladin and the barbarian drove into their line with relentless fury.

The goatmen wielded polearms, and the initial contact was harder on Aan, who had no shield, but the paladin's silver aura of defiance helped turn away the brunt of the demons' attacks. The northman did his best to bat away the blades and spikes that were thrust at him with wide swings of his axe, and he repaid every glancing strike with a cleaving blow.

Meanwhile, Galen used his shield to get inside the reach of his enemies' weapons, where they were all but useless, and the Pillar of Heaven crashed like thunder upon goatman after goatman.

Soon, Dana joined the fray, her blazing spear flashing sudden death in the melee. The khazra were no match for the trio, but to their credit, even when their ranks were shattered and most of them lay dead or bleeding on the ground, they refused to flee, fighting to the last with frothing rage.

An eerie silence fell with the last goatman, but the amazon's senses told her the danger was far from passed.

- "Stay on guard," she warned as they carefully edged their way into the town proper. "There's no telling what might be lurking in these ruins."

- "Probably a lightning enchanted goatman," grumbled Aan.

- "Fan out," Galen instructed, "but stay within earshot. Call out if you find foes or survivors."

Tristram was a maze of charred houses. Making sure they kept an eye on each other, the three of them navigated the gutted remains of the town, sifting through ash and rubble in search of any clues to the fate of its inhabitants. Inching their way towards the central square, they found the occasional corpse, as well as isolated pockets of fallen squatting the few buildings that still stood.

The paladin had just disposed of one such pocket in what looked like the remains of the town's smithy when a huge shadow in the form of a man appeared in the doorway to his left. The smell of death and decay that saturated Tristram seemed to get stronger.

- "Who goes there?" Galen called out. "Don't be afraid, good sir, I'm here to help. Are you alright?"
The only reply he got was a low, tortured moan.

The paladin walked closer and summoned the pure light of creation, hoping to heal whatever afflicted the poor man as well as shed some light on the situation.

The moment his aura lit up the shadow man the latter bellowed in pain and anger, his now clearly undead flesh singed by the life energies. The enormous zombie, its tattered blacksmith's apron hanging on its rotting corpse, plowed into the knight before he could so much as raise his shield. Its unnatural strength was terrifying, and Galen was sent crashing into a scorched wooden pillar that collapsed instantly on top of him.

Aan and Dana rushed out of the respective ruins they were in to hurry to their ally's aid, but they found they weren't the only ones to be alerted by the commotion. The town square was suddenly abuzz with the clatter of bones, skeletons rising from the ground and spilling from every broken archway in sight. Soon, there was an army of them, many carrying axes, swords and shields, a few with their bony hands wreathed in dark magics. They moved as one against the amazon and the barbarian, who retreated into a nearby building to gain a better defensive position.

Meanwhile, Galen lay dazed on the ground, but he recovered just in time to get back on his feet and defend himself against the rampaging undead smith. Though his blessed white aura seemed to hurt it, it wasn't enough to stop it from raining down massive fists upon his shield, powerful enough to rattle his bones.

The paladin decided to switch tactics, calling upon his golden aura of might to withstand the barrage of blows and retaliate with a vengeance. Deflecting its attacks, he drove his war scepter into the zombie again and again, but though each strike left a deep dent in the decaying flesh the abomination felt no pain and seemed unfazed. The black magic that animated it was strong. Worse, Galen realized that the cursed energies were afflicting him, sapping his strength. Were it not for the power of the light, he would have been completely overwhelmed.

Weathering a renewed assault, the paladin briefly wondered if he would come out on top in a battle of attrition when the monstrosity suddenly grabbed his shield with both hands; it pulled with all its unholy might at the obstruction that was preventing it from snuffing the insolent life that burned too brightly. Before he could react, Galen was lifted bodily from the ground and sent to collide with a nearby wall. Twice more the zombie used the shield as leverage to smash the paladin into the wall. The third time the wall gave way and the knight was sent crashing through, his shield ripped from his grasp.

He now lay stunned on the floor of a small adjacent room; he'd lost both his helm and his war scepter in the impact, and blood ran down his temple. The huge zombie loomed over him; his hand fumbled around the ash and debris about him, desperately feeling for the Pillar of Heaven's handle.

Instead, it found an unfamiliar grip. The paladin recognized the feel and weight of a sword without even a glance, and his body reacted on instinct. Wielding it two-handed, he surged upwards, meeting the smith's falling fist with the rising arc of his blade. The severed arm flew into the air, and Galen turned with his swing to launch a low cut at the blacksmith's leg. It met the same fate as the arm, and the zombie toppled onto its knees.

The blade rose one last time and fell like an executioner's axe upon the back of the creature's neck. Decapitated, the corpse hovered for a second in absolute stillness, as if it were uncertain whether to be alive or dead, before toppling to the floor. Taking deep breaths, the paladin took a moment to recover before turning his attention to the sword that now lay in his hands.

It gleamed in his aura like a river in the sun. It had minimal ornamentation, as it was clearly meant to be a warrior's tool first and foremost, yet it was exquisitely crafted all the same, and had survived the fire untouched. It's hand-and-a-half grip felt just as perfectly balanced in one hand as it did in two as he took a few practice swings with it, and its keen edge sang as it cut the air.

Galen knew swords, and this one was the work of a master smith. He turned his eyes back to the headless corpse at his feet with a mix of reverence and sorrow, but before he could so much as offer a prayer, he finally heard the sounds of battle coming from outside. He went to retrieve his helm, scepter and shield and rushed out of the smithy with his newfound blade in hand.

What he found was a legion of skeletons besieging a half-collapsed tavern, with his allies defending the breaches.

Aan effortlessly smashed any bone warrior that dared come within reach of his axe, but Dana was having a harder time of it, her spear woefully unsuited to fighting the undead. Cursing as her weapon once again caught in the ribs of one of her foes, she intensified its enchanted blaze to allow her to cut through bone and ripped it free. She began wielding it like a glaive, weaving patterns of deadly flame as she swung the blade. Still the skeletons poured in with no sense of preservation, trying to overwhelm the defenders with sheer numbers while their mages hammered the inn with dark fire.

Galen advanced on the horde, once again calling upon his blessed aura to provide a sanctuary of light that proved anathema to the undead. The skeleton horde melted before him, their bones crumbling as the unholy energies that held them together were burned away. His new sword made short work of those that were left in his path as he pushed forward towards Dana, who was barely holding back the tide of bone from her breach. The paladin's aura washed over her like a summer breeze, her cuts beginning to heal, and she could finally catch her breath as the skeletons fell back before his onslaught.

- "How kind of you to show up to the battle!" she said snidely. "I'm not sure all of Hell heard the ruckus you made, perhaps a little louder next time?"

He offered her a sheepish smile as he took position at her side. The undead rushed in like moths to a flame, sightless eyes burning red with hatred for the living, their breathless voices cursing the unbearable white fire that blazed like the sun. Those that made it to the breach were in no shape to withstand the combined strength of arms of the three warriors; the horde broke upon them like waves on the shore, and soon exhausted itself.

Galen charged the skeleton mages while his companions mopped up the rest. The last cackling skull was split open by Aan's axe, and an eerie quiet once again fell upon Tristram.

- "That was the last of them," the barbarian remarked. "Are we done with the avenging part?"

- "If there were any demons left in Tristram they'd have heard us by now," the paladin replied.

- "That's new," the amazon chimed in with a nod towards the sword in his hand. "Where'd you find it?"

- "It found me," Galen replied mysteriously as he proudly displayed his new blade.

- "Impressive," Aan said appreciatively. "A sword like that deserves a name."

The paladin gazed at his own reflection in the blade before answering.

- "Providence," he decided. "I shall call it Providence. It came to me in my hour of need. Now, we must do the same for the survivors, if there are any. Let's continue the search, but stay on your guard. You never know what we might stumble upon."

- "You think we'll find anyone alive?" the northman asked dubiously.

- "I saw many bodies," the amazon interjected, "but too few for a town of this size. Either some of the townsfolk managed to flee, or they hid somewhere. I'd say the cathedral, were it not for its dark reputation."

- "That's the last place the people of Tristram would seek refuge in," Galen confirmed. "Spread out, we'll cover more ground that way."

The paladin moved away, and Dana followed suit in the opposite direction. As the light from his aura and her spear receded, the barbarian found himself in near total darkness.

- "Perfect. And on a moonless night," he complained to no one in particular. "With any luck, I'll find a glowing monster to light my way," he rambled on with false cheer as he stumbled back into the ruined inn.

Feeling his way more than seeing, he rummaged through the rubble, looking for any signs of life. Strangely, he mostly found scorched goatman corpses. Perhaps someone managed to hold out here, he reasoned. Soon, he came upon the stairs leading to what remained of the second floor. They were charred and broken in many places but were still standing.

Gripping the staircase's splintered rail, he negotiated the first few steps with great care. The wood groaned and protested under his massive weight, but held firm nonetheless. Satisfied, he made his way up more confidently, though still as light-footedly as he could muster.

He was almost at the top of the stairs when a loud crack echoed against the walls and he suddenly found himself plummeting. Both the stairs and the inn's floor gave way beneath him as he crashed down into the building's basement. It took him a moment to recover, but when he did he rose with a roar, more of anger than of pain.

It was at that moment that a bolt of lightning flashed from behind him and struck him viciously, and this time the pain was clear in his voice as his body shook and his mouth shouted the obscenest profanities he could utter in both the common tongue and his native language. The stream of expletives was interrupted when a feminine voice called out.

- "You're...you're human?! Who are you?! Friend or foe?!"

Aan turned to see a young woman holding a glowing staff standing in what looked like a cellar. Behind her, he could make out the shapes of men, women and children huddled together in the dim candlelight. Doing his best to compose himself, he raised a hand in a placating gesture.

- "I'm a friend, but by Bul-Kathos' teeth I won't be so friendly if you zap me again!" He sighed, and tried to inject some calm into his tone. "I suppose you lot are the missing townsfolk. We're here to rescue you."

- "We?" the woman asked, her exotic voice somehow both relieved and yet still tense. "There's more of you?"

- "Yes, two more. They should be here any second, I doubt they missed that commotion. I hope you give them a better welcome than me."

- "I'm terribly sorry," she apologized sheepishly, finally lowering her staff. "It was dark and with your helmet I mistook you for a khazra...um, how do you say...goatman! I thought a demon had stumbled upon our hiding place and was warning his kin. We heard a battle earlier and didn't know what to make of it."

- "The demons are all dead, there's nothing to fear anymore," he spoke aloud for all the others to hear. "It's safe to leave. I trust there's a way out of here other than the way I came in?"

- "There is," another, older woman said as she came forward. "I can show it to you, my husband owns...owned this inn," she finished as sorrow threatened to overwhelm her features.

The northman offered her a sympathetic look and followed her to a corner of the cellar. The others, over a dozen of them, were already crowding around their savior, showering him with gratitude. I could get used to this hero business, he thought. Everyone seemed eager to walk out into the open air.

- "We were told there was a sage here by the name of Deckard Cain," he spoke as he looked around at the hopeful faces. "Does he yet live?"

- "I am Deckard Cain, son of Bul-Kathos," an old man answered back as he stepped forth. "There is some life left in these old bones, yes."

- "Akara will be glad to hear it."

- "The high priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye?"

- "Yes, she's the one who sent us. We'll take you all to the encampment the rogues have built, there's a portal waiting to lead us back there."

The innkeeper's widow unlocked a heavily barred hatch but could not move it when she made to open it. It took all of the barbarian's considerable strength to throw open the doors despite all the rubble that weighed them down. Once he had made sure the way was clear, the townsfolk streamed into the open as Galen and Dana came running.

- "These are the allies I told you about," Aan announced. "Good news, friends," he now addressed his companions. "I've found our survivors, and guess who's among them?"

- "Deckard Cain, I presume?" the amazon walked up to the old man. "Thank the gods you're alright."

- "Thank this young sorceress here," Cain replied with a gesture towards the staff wielding woman. "If it wasn't for her, none of us would be alive."

- "We have many questions for you," the paladin interjected, "but they will have to wait. For now, let's get you and your people to safety, I'm sure you could all use a meal and a soft bed for the night."

- "Your northern friend here mentioned a portal," Cain declared. "Surely you don't mean the cairn at the edge of town?"

- "The very same," came Dana's reply.

- "Then it seems I have many questions of my own to ask of you," the old man asserted. "But as you said, there will be time enough for questions tomorrow. Lead the way".

As the small band made their way out of the ruins of Tristram Galen noticed the light singe the northman had sustained.

- "What happened to you?" he asked his blood brother. "Why didn't you tell me you required healing?"

- "I don't want to talk about it," grumbled the barbarian.

- "It's my fault," the young woman whom Cain had identified as a sorceress chimed in. "I thought he was a goatman and hit him with a lightning bolt."

For the life of her the sorceress could not understand why the paladin and amazon snickered all the way to the portal.