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{{Intro}}
The Assassin is, in my opinion, the most challenging character in Diablo II. Barbarians and Druids (shapechangers, at least) are extraordinarily straightforward; I'd recommend them to anyone just starting the game for their simplicity and brute power. Sorceresses, I find, live and die by their skill placement and are usually better off specializing in only a few options. Paladins and Amazons have a variety of utility skills which are of use in limited situations, and reward the experienced player who knows when to change tactics, but I can usually muddle through with a less-than-optimal strategy. None require as much attention as the Assassin. The martial arts system is complex and time-consuming, requiring her to hit more than once to unleash the most powerful effects. Spending so much time in the thick of combat with a character as frail as Assassins tend to be makes me nervous, and pulling off the maneuvers correctly demands close timing and lots of concentration. Trap Assassins are simpler, and work at range, which may be why I don't enjoy them as much as martial artists -- the sense of risk isn't nearly as strong.
There are, naturally, some things about the class I dislike. The martial arts system is a bit cumbersome, and mastering the timing needed to get the number of charge-ups I want is tricky. I've pretty much given up on getting only two charge-ups, especially with Burst of Speed at a high level; the character hits too quickly for me to control her that well. Traps are a nice idea, though I do not think she should be able to put a trap anywhere she can see. It would be much more logical if her traps were items she could either throw or set up next to her, like real mechanical devices. The blade skills are awful, which is a pity, as many real world assassins did their work with thrown blades before guns were invented. And then there's her outfit: a singlet cut very low in front and very high on the sides (so much so that her belt rests partially on bare skin) with elbow-length gloves, thigh-high boots, shoulder pads, and knee pads(?). According to the expansion manual, Assassins are members of the secret order of Viz-Jaq'taar; in the real world at least, secret societies stay secret by having their members look like ordinary people. No real ninja ever wore a "ninja" outfit; they wore the same clothes as everyone else. I refuse to believe that a typical woman in the Diablo II universe goes around dressed like that.
Now, what shall I do with my Assassin? My goal with this tour is to play all seven characters in ways I never have before. I've used various martial arts, and feel confident of my mastery of the tree, so I shall ignore it and use something else. I've used all the traps, so nothing from there. That leaves Shadow Disciplines. My favorites of these are Burst of Speed and Shadow Master, or Warrior if I'm using traps. Eliminate them, and... hmm, not much left. For "auras", the tree offers Fade and Venom. I rarely have difficulty getting enough resistances, so Venom it shall be. On the other side of the tree are the "mentalist" skills, which I haven't done much with: Psychic Hammer (useful but weak), Cloak of Shadows (Blinding monsters: good. Blinding player: bad!), and Mind Blast.
A potentially interesting build comes to mind. While playing my Necromancer, I'd noted that poison would be most useful with ranged attacks. Poison takes time to work, and ranged attacks make time a luxury you can better afford. The Venom skill adds a lot more damage than Poison Dagger, and can be used with any weapon, including a ranged weapon. In all this tour, I've yet to make a character with a strong ranged attack, and should do at least one. Another tactic I haven't used much is subversion: sowing chaos and disruption by confusing or converting the enemy. Mind Blast has a chance to convert, making me friends, or at least keeping the monsters busy while they die from poison. This could work.
Now, what weapon shall I use? Bows? Thrown weapons? I've got some nice crossbows on the mules, including a Heavy Crossbow with six sockets that could be fitted out with perfect emeralds. Crossbows are very slow for the Assassin, but with poison and Mind Blast, she may not need to shoot fast. Come to think of it, I wonder why the Assassin, someone used to complicated mechanical devices, is so slow with the crossbow, while the Druid is relatively fast? I would have thought Nature Boy would be more practiced with normal bows. Ah... no point second guessing Blizzard about this. Many things in the Diablo II universe make no sense, but if I asked they might offer some bizarre, convoluted explanation for them that would just make my head hurt. They might even have a pseudo-rational explanation for the female characters' outfits, though we all know the real reasons for those.
So my Assassin shall be a ranged attacker, using crossbows. Her main skills will be Venom and Mind Blast, with the goal of converting enemies and killing from a long distance. I'll be putting points into Claw Mastery as a prerequisite anyway, so I'll make her back-up weapons a pair of claws in case things get rough. She'll use no summons; minions will be mixed up fresh for each battle. Also, no mercenary. One thing that bothered me with Varnae is that my merc killed monsters before his poison had a chance to do its thing, and I don't want that to happen again. Besides, the "lone hired gun" is a staple of fiction; anyone who walks that lonely road should do so without help. Moving fast and hitting hard before you know she's there, then melting back into the shadows... that sounds like what an Assassin should be. In keeping with the build, I'll give her a short bow for starting equipment. Her name is Amanita, after a variety of poisonous mushroom noble Romans used to bump each other off.
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==Act 1==
===Chapter 1===
When I laid eyes on the palisade, I knew it would be trouble. But trouble was what I was looking for. I was out on assignment, looking for nobody knew what. All we knew was that a lot of crazy Vizjerei had come wandering out of this part of the world the last few months. A sorcerer having a sudden fit of madness and destroying a house isn't strange; the location was the strange part. There was nothing out here but farming villages and old monasteries, nothing sorcerers would go crazy over. Nothing out here a sorcerer could want, unless he was looking for cheap land with a view of the neighbor's cow. But our higher-ups don't like not knowing, especially with sorcerers. They can be real bastards when they want to, throwing sparks and dazzle with one hand so you don't see them pull a demon out of their hat with the other. Something around here caught their collective eye. A lot of them came looking for it, and it did a number on them.
A lot of us junior members were sent out to look for the whatever-it-is; field training, they called it, seasoning. I figure I'm spicy enough, but what the hell. It beats meditating. Going along the mountains was easiest, and as likely as any other way, which is how I found the palisade. A few dozen people were inside, but they didn't look like they were sorcerers: their thoughts were confused and sad, some angry, most more than a little scared, but no one was thinking of magic. I probably had no business in there, so I went inside.
There were a lot of women in there. That ruled out their being sorcerers. Sure, there's supposed to be some order of female mages hiding in the eastern jungles somewhere, but no one's ever seen them. Would killing one of them be harder, I wonder? I probably couldn't count on the outfit to distract them. These women were all armed, mostly with bows. A female archers unit? There were a couple of men, older and a lot more prosperous-looking. One, you could tell, was dripping with money -- sure, he wore brown pants and a plain tunic, but you don't buy a ring like the one he had on his left ring finger second-hand. His hair was a plain brown, cut in a standard style. A not-too-long beard gave him a very paternal look; his was a face you could trust. Obviously the man to talk to.
"Greetings, stranger!" he started off, with a smile I could have poured on pancakes. "With all the troubles, I'm not surprised to see one of your kind here."
My first instinct was to lock down: had my thoughts leaked? A man couldn't possibly have the training to read my mind... he looked surprised, and stepped back. "Oh, I'm sorry! I hope I haven't offended you. I saw that you're armed, and you must know how to defend yourself to cross this country alone. I merely assumed you were a roving mercenary! We've had a few come by, you know."
Damn, I thought, relaxing. He relaxed as I did. This guy didn't need any training or study or meditation to tell what I was thinking. He looked for flickers in my eyes, or changes in the pace of my breathing. And he was good at it. My guess was that he was either a gambler or a merchant, neither of which had any use for a company of archers. "Guess you caught me," I smiled my dumbest friendly smile. "Yeah, I hire out as an archer. It's just something I do, I'm not really proud of it. My name's Amy."
He shook my hand, and smiled, nice and polite. He knew I was lying, but calling me on it wouldn't be friendly, and he would always be friendly. Had to be a merchant. "I am Warriv, leader of this caravan. You'll be in rare company here. The world doesn't see many women archers, outside of these Rogues."
The Rogues! The Rogue Sisters of the Sightless Eye, famous for their archery and a male-free lifestyle. I don't know where my brain is some days. "Oh, um, yeah, I was coming here to visit them. These are the Rogues?"
He didn't hide his surprise at my ignorance; his eyebrows slowly crept up his face, almost hiding in his hair out of sheer embarrassment. "How many cohorts of female archers have you met? Ah, you're confused because you expected to find them still in their monastery."
I nodded, still dumb. Men talk a lot more if they think a girl is dumb. I doubt it fooled him for even a minute, but it's important to keep up appearances. "Yeah... I thought they were, I mean, further up in the mountains."
"Therein lies a sad tale," Warriv shook his head. I instantly felt his sadness and concern. He was good, too good, maybe. "I don't know all the details, but a great catastrophe has overtaken the Rogue sisterhood, and expelled them from their monastery. When I came with my caravan, I found them by this river, trying to set up camp. If you're at all interested in the Rogues, you should speak to their leader, Akara. She's the one over there."
I've done better; it would be hard to do worse. Warriv may not read minds, but I still felt like I'd told him everything he wanted to know without ever opening my mouth. A mage with that kind of talent could be dangerous. Most don't know how; they only read books, and never between the lines. You can tell them anything.
Before I found the leader Warriv wasn't, someone else stopped me. She was a redhead, with a rather narrow forehead and more height than is considered attractive. Her nose was small and sharp, her upper lip a shade too long and her mouth more than a shade too wide. Her armor fit the body she had well, and her knuckles were callused. "All right," she said, "who are you and what are you doing here? You can lie to Warriv, but you can't fool me."
Lady, if you think I fooled Warriv, you don't know him very well. "My name's Amy... well, Amanita, but that's kind of formal, isn't it?"
"We both know the Rogues are the only women's military order in the world," she went on, standing a little straighter so I had to look up to her. I obliged. "No man's army would hire a woman." She smirked, looking me up and down. "At least not as an archer."
"Yeah, I know!" I whined. "I can't get anybody to hire me. I can barely afford clothes! I need new arrows and all I got was 3 gold to hunt deer in this one town, and they even tried to get out of paying me that!"
The smirk didn't go away. She thought she knew something; I was tempted to look and see what, but that would spoil the surprise. "Can't afford clothes. Look, I can guess what your 'business' is. You'll find no customers here. All the men ran when the monastery was attacked. But know this: we Rogues are warriors. We are proud of who we are, and do not tolerate those who humiliate their own kind for the sake of a few coins."
She was over my height, maybe 20 pounds heavier. She had armor, and a sword. Anger and frustration were rippling off her mind like foam out of a boiling pot; she wouldn't need much excuse to use the sword. If anyone needed to be told where to go, it was her, but that might start something I wouldn't walk away from. "Can I talk to someone else?" I said. "I don't think we have anything to say to each other."
When she saw I wouldn't leave, Red let me talk to Akara, the Rogue priestess. Akara was an old woman who kept herself shrouded in a cloak, the hood over her face. While she didn't say anything, she was thinking the same thing Red was. There was more in her mind, but I didn't go looking. Don't look when you won't like what you're going to find.
"Warriv is correct, young girl: a great evil has overcome our monastery, and none of us know its cause. It all happened on one horrible night. Those of us who survived awoke to find ourselves being slaughtered -- by our own sisters."
"Sudden fits of madness?" I asked.
Her shriveled fingers fluttered out like dying butterflies to grip the edges of her cloak. "I fear something much more sinister. Their eyes were full of what I can only describe as evil. Other creatures had entered our monastery as well, fearsome beasts of hellish disposition and murderous intent. Most of our sisters were killed while still asleep, and I sometimes wonder if they were the lucky ones."
"No, they're not. The dead have no luck at all. Have you had any sorcerers come to your monastery recently?"
"Many have come and gone, as they always have. Our monastery is built across the only pass in this part of the mountains, and many travel this way to and from the east."
"Did any stay for any length of time?"
"None who seemed in any way unusual. The madness came without warning, and we saw nothing which aroused our suspicions."
"Then you should have been more suspicious. Merchant caravans go through your pass. Did any of them bring anything you kept in the monastery?"
"Many things, none of which were out of the ordinary." Tension edged the old woman's voice. "Young lady, every sleepless night I have meditated upon the events which led to our monastery's downfall. If a gap lay in our defenses, either physical or spiritual, I cannot see it any better now than I could before."
"That's why we need more evidence. Just before the --"
"Child, nothing happened which had not happened a thousand times before. We had many visitors, some new to us, others very familiar. If you wish to aid us, I am grateful, though I must have some assurance that I am not wasting what little time remains to me. You ask many questions, but would you be willing to risk your life on our behalf?"
"Yes," I said, happy that I didn't have to lie for once.
"There is a place of great evil near here, where our enemy is massing for an attack on this very camp. Out on the moor, the dead walk, and formerly harmless animals viciously attack any and all they see. In a cave there, you will find our enemies gathering. If you can find this cave and slay all who fill it, I will feel you can be trusted with more information."
"You have more information?"
"I may." A smile put in a reluctant appearance on her prune-like mouth. "But if I do, it is buried amongst the thousand insignificant facts of daily life. Opposing the hellish forces who have taken our monastery will demand skill and courage. If you show me you have these qualities, I will be more willing to sit for your interrogation. For now, I am afraid your manner and appearance do not inspire confidence. Now run along. I shall speak with you again when I am more able to take you seriously."
===Chapter 2===
Killing a crowd of demons might be hard. They're not like mages, though that might work out in my favor. From what I've heard, they're not as smart, and don't keep as many tricks up their sleeves. But there'll be more than one of them. Sorcerers tend to be loners, so Viz-Jaaq'tar train to take down single targets. For groups, I might get away with just spreading out the hurt: keep my distance, don't let them see me, pick 'em off one by one and hope they don't try anything clever. Sounded like a good plan. But don't they all?
It was raining when I stepped into the moor... up past my ankle. Pulling my foot out made a noise like a 60-year-old streetwalker who'd forgotten to put in her teeth. So much for "move silently as shadows on the grass." I listened, but no sound came through the patter of rain. All I could see was trampled heather and stumps of the trees that gave their lives for the rickety walls behind me. There weren't even any animals to take notice of me. Perfect. I'd seen animals on my way here: ugly, twisted ones that weren't as scared of me as they should have been.
Stepping from one knot of grass to another kept me out of the mud; an old hat I found under a rock kept the rain off. I actually felt pretty good about myself before something stabbed me in the back. I whirled around -- nobody there. Another hit, in the leg. I looked down. A giant rat with spikes on its back was gnashing its teeth and flicking quills at me. It stopped after I stepped on its head. Scanning the ground, I saw a few more. Each took several arrows to kill, more than an animal the size of a rabbit should. The quills hurt a lot to pull out, too. Must be barbed; at least they weren't poisoned.
The moor was also haunted by the dead. Waterlogged corpses are great zombie material, and whoever was making them was working overtime. It didn't seem right to have walking dead just shambling around in daylight -- they needed a silvery moon shining off brackish water, with wolf howls in the background. There probably weren't any wolves left around here, and if there were, they were 8 feet long with spines and steel teeth. Another thing: almost all the zombies were women, wearing what was left of Rogue leather armor. Most were very fresh, dead for a few weeks at most.
When I had a chance, I looked over every zombie. Some had a little money, so whatever killed them wasn't interested in loot. Some still had useable armor. Mostly, I was looking for what originally killed them. Quieting them down for examination took so many arrows they wound up looking like birds, but the cause of death was usually obvious. Most were killed by blows to the torso: axe wounds in their backs or punctures by sword or spear. The angle of attack usually went upwards, and injuries to the head and shoulders were uncommon. Many were burned, but not badly enough to kill them. Very little molestation, before or after death. They died like soldiers, it looked like, and from ordinary weapons. Nice to know I wouldn't be fighting anything too exotic.
I would need a stronger weapon, though -- my bow is for killing rabbits, and any rabbit still around out here could probably take it away from me and eat it. Lucky for me this happened to the Rogues, every kind of bow I might want will be easy to find. Turns out their smith escaped with them, a girl named Charsi. Don't laugh, she's bigger than most men I've seen, including a few smiths. Every word out of her mouth bubbled over with enthusiasm, and I could tell right away that thinking didn't bother her too often. Also, she liked to talk. I like talking to people who like to talk.
"Oh, it was horrible," she was saying, "there was fire everywhere and all this screaming, I thought for sure I was going to die. I'm not a warrior -- I wish I was, but I'm no good with a bow -- so I grabbed some things and ran when Kashya told me we had to abandon the monastery. I hope you understand she's taking it really hard, so she's --"
"Don't you worry, I understand," I said, knowing she'd believe me. "Sometimes, when a war leader is defeated, she takes it out on her troops. It's no big deal."
Charsi blinked, "Oh, you knew she's the war leader?"
I've got to watch myself. "Yeah, one of the other girls told me. And she looks like a war leader, you know?"
"Oh, yeah!" she nodded. "Kashya is really impressive, just amazing. Only Blood Raven was better. She..." Charsi's smile faded, and her voice trailed off. This was a subject she'd remembered not to talk about. I was impressed.
"Blood Raven is kind of a strange name," I said innocently.
"Yeah, she was from some other country far away," Charsi said, suddenly finding the dirt by my boots intensely fascinating. Doubt filled her mind like mist -- she wasn't trying to hide the truth, she didn't know what was going on. All she knew is that she'd heard the name in connection with something bad. She kept talking as I closed my mind's eye. "I think Gheed has traveled in her country. He's been everywhere."
"Who's Gheed?"
"He's behind you, by his wagon. Gheed is wonderful, he knows all kinds of funny stories and has seen so many amazing things. I wish I could see half of what he's seen."
Glancing over my shoulder, I found two eyes the color of fresh excrement riveted to my ass. The rest of him looked no better: expensive clothes and a fur-lined cape wrapped around an ale barrel, topped by a face that looked like a bucket of mud. There are people in this world you don't have to know to hate. Just looking across camp at him, I wanted to kick his teeth in. Violence wasn't a good idea, especially around Kashya, so I'd have to settle for a pair of pants. Finding some wouldn't be easy around the Rogues.
Charsi was still innocently rambling on about how funny and clever he was. I felt sick. I could open her eyes for her, but the thought made me feel worse. I asked for a crossbow instead, and after a few practice shots, bought it. Knowing I was packing a little power made me feel a lot better.
The crossbow worked out just fine. Cranking it up was a little slower, but watching one of the bolts punch right through a quill rat was worth the extra time. Zombies only took three or four shots to put down, if you aimed for the joints. Hits to the head or internals don't mean much with zombies. To get some practice, I explored the moor. There were a few chests and trunks lying around, probably luggage lost during the escape. Most of the stuff was useless, except for the finder's fees. All that changed when I found a sorcerer's staff in an empty house. My money worries were over. Mages enchant their personal toys so much, any stick of theirs will be worth a fortune. Akara was pleasantly surprised to see it, so she must not miss its former owner. The first thing I brought was a couple of tomes for scrolls -- that surprised her too. She was sure I'd leave once I had money.
The sun was setting when I was satisfied that the moor was empty. Moving slow and quiet, drawing no attention to myself, was all it took. Kashya wouldn't be impressed, but I didn't expect her to be -- even I know zombies aren't hard to kill. All that was left was the cave. It was small, just an opening in the side of a hillock, but it was the only one in the area. Judging from the tracks outside, a lot of creatures were in that cave. Some had human feet, which dragged as they walked. Others had small feet, with four clawed toes splaying out in front and to the sides. And then there was a single humanlike print so big both my feet fit inside it lengthwise. Good thing I brought a bigger bow.
The cave was dark, with only a few torches struggling in the stale air deeper inside. Perfect. Carefully, I moved in, eyes on the torches far ahead. A zombie or two was wandering in and out of the light, barely moving. Perfect targets. I braced against a wall to shoot... and the wall was hairy. With a snort, it turned around, and I looked up into two tiny eyes in a head that could barely be distinguished from the massive shoulders hulking on either side. Crap. Off I went, with the thing right behind me, howling enough to wake up everything in the cave before I finally managed to kill it. Crap, crap, crap. So much for stealth. The zombies were coming, and a few midget-like creatures with torches.
The zombies were easy kills, like usual. The midgets were short little devil guys, with horns, barbed tails, and attitude. I didn't like their attitude, and let them know it. After reviewing my forceful arguments, they bowed to reason and changed their ways, becoming much easier to get along with. I did have a problem with their leaders, though -- slightly bigger midgets who undid all my subtle persuasions by raising the little bastards from the dead. The obvious solution was to address the leader in person, the same way you'd deal with a Necromancer with a lot of raised skeletons. Getting through to him took persistence, so much so that I had to change arguments and employ a pair of katar, but once the leader saw the light of reason, the rest changed their minds and became much more accommodating.
Clearing the rest of the cave went the same way. I'd rather they never knew I was there, but a strong attack isn't a bad option. After a few Bigfoots almost got close enough to hit me, I bought myself a pot helm. It's ugly, but the most important part I have is my brain. As for my other parts... the Rogues still aren't stocking pants, so I meet Charsi on the other side of her little smithing table. The leader of the cave forces, around whom all the others gathered, was a zombie, which told me a lot about how well they were organized. Super-zombie wasn't any harder to kill, he just took longer. Mentally alerting each of his friends in turn, I'd lure them away and put them down, until he was alone. He never noticed. Even when he did see me, a few psychic blows made him reel so much he immediately forgot.
When I went to see Akara, I never got a word out of my mouth. She greeted me right away with, "Well done, my child. You have cleansed that den of evil, and earned my trust. I hope you will forgive us for anything we said or implied."
"Thank you, Akara," I said, wondering how she could know already. She wasn't reading my thoughts. Did she have someone follow me in that cave? Could one of these Rogues outdo a Viz-Jaq'taar in stealth? All right, so I'm not exactly stellar in that department... "You had no reason to trust me."
"Perhaps not, but that is not why I was so brusque. Much of my faith in humanity was lost when our monastery fell, but I feel finding someone to trust has helped restore it. You could easily have fled this cursed place with your new wealth, but did not. I now feel I can share with you my thoughts and suspicions."
I nodded, mind still whirling. "Whatever you're willing to share, Lady Akara."
"Thank you, Amy, if I may call you that. My belief is that our sisters have been possessed by demons, brought back to this place by one of our order, Blood Raven. Perhaps you have heard the name?"
There wasn't a trace of irony in her voice. However she got her information, she didn't know everything. "I think so..."
"Blood Raven was our greatest archer, famous for her skill. When evil struck the town of Tristram, she led many of our sisters there to combat it."
I nodded. "I'd heard of Tristram. Farming town by the Hool river, yes?"
"Yes. Until a short while ago, that is all anyone knew or cared of it. Now it is clear that a dark secret lay hidden there. When I heard of demons roaming the land near Tristram, I sent Blood Raven to save the town and enhance our order's reputation."
"You didn't send Kashya?"
"No," the old woman's voice dropped. "I thought Blood Raven the superior choice."
Ouch. I'll bet Kashya didn't take that well. "Go on."
"Blood Raven returned with but a fraction of her cohort. They told tales of a town nearly destroyed, with an unspeakable evil festering beneath the surface. This nameless evil had led to the downfall of kings and valiant knights alike. The town's cathedral was overrun by demons, and their bishop had vanished down below the catacombs."
"This town had its own bishop? I thought it was a little place."
"The archbishop of Khanduras, no less. I do not know why he chose Tristram as his seat. The important matter is that after their return, Blood Raven and the others behaved oddly, and were stricken with nightmares. The Eye of the Goddess saw nothing more in them than memories of the many horrors they encountered while attempting to cleanse Tristram, so I assumed that all they required was time to heal their troubled minds. It appears that I was very, very wrong. Blood Raven's cohort, and all those who worked closely with them, are the ones who rose against us that terrible night."
"With madness in their eyes."
"As you have said. Now our sisters roam the land killing and destroying all they once built and cherished, side by side with hellish creatures. According to our scouts, our once-proud monastery is defiled in the worst way, full of demons and corruption. And Blood Raven has been seen again."
"Where? Doing what?" I asked.
The old woman continued, ignoring me. "Her form had been altered severely, so that she seems more beast than human."
"I understand that. Where was she, and what was she doing?"
"I am sorry. This weighs heavily on me. Perhaps Kashya can best explain; she has seen with her own eyes the horror that Blood Raven has become."
===Chapter 3===
Kashya was standing by the bonfire, tense and angry. Like normal, in other words. Believe it or not, I was looking forward to this. Akara came pretty close to apologizing, but I wanted to hear those three little words "I am sorry" out of Kashya's mouth even more. It would be funny if they made her choke. Didn't happen, though. She took one look at me, and thought clear as day: *Oh, look. Oiled black leather. Figures.* Yeah, I blackened the leather. Black is harder to see and goes with everything I own. And I oiled it. That's what you do in wet weather. There's just no pleasing some people.
"Hi there," I said sweetly. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Depends on what it is," she grumbled.
"No, whether or not you answer depends on what it is," I corrected her. She bristled, but I ignored it: "Lady Akara has confided in me. She thinks someone named Blood Raven was involved with the fall of your monastery."
She snorted. "Old news. She was at the center of it." Sadness flashed across her face. She tried to hide it by looking down into the fire, giving me an unprecedented view of the top of her head. "I have no idea why."
"I'll ask her myself later. I've heard she's still around."
"She's in our graveyard." Waves of anger suddenly radiated from her. "She's violating holy ground and raising our own order's dead against us. The Sightless Eye has been our path for centuries. She's thrown all that away, and given herself to our greatest enemy!"
"Your greatest enemy?" I asked, nonchalantly as I could.
She glared at me. "No one has ever taken our monastery from us before. A lot of men have tried. We are warriors in a world that wants us to be cooks, or wives, or..." After a look that should have been sticking out between my shoulder blades, she said, "I don't know who Blood Raven's new master is, if that's what you're asking. But whoever it is likes humiliating women. Go look at her, and our other sisters. You'll see."
Maybe I shouldn't have, but I felt like pushing her buttons. "You're sure I'll share your opinion?"
"It's not an opinion. The graveyard is on the east side of the pass, past the church. Try not to let her kill you."
I smiled. "Gosh, I didn't know you cared."
"I don't. I don't want any more zombies around."
The moors were empty and silent. A lone Rogue stood guard by a fence. Beyond was no-woman's-land, if you believed Kashya. The first thing I found was a waypoint. Good. The old Horadrim made those things for quick travel, everywhere they went. Anyone could use one, unlike most sorcerer toys. Having one handy could save a lot of walking.
The ground got higher and rockier as I moved up the pass. There were more trees to hide behind, and less mud to get stuck in. If my luck was good, I'd never have to sneak through a swamp again. As I made my way through the thick grass, I found an enemy camp: hordes of demon midgets wandered around a small clearing. They milled around idly and chattered in their own language, obviously waiting with nothing to do. It could have been any military camp away from the action if there weren't so many human bones lying around. The skulls on poles were a definite giveaway. Since their leaders raise them from the dead...
My first shot missed. The boss demonling bent down to bite off a flower his followers had somehow missed, so the bolt sailed over his head and killed another one. They all stood there, blinking stupidly, long enough that I made my second shot perfect. Something else raised the leader, ruining one of my better kills. A bigger leader with green skin pointed me out from the far side of the camp, and the whole bunch took off after me.
It could have been bad if they weren't such chickens. Putting a bolt through one sent the rest squealing for their mommies, if demons even have mommies. But they always came back, snarling and shaking their little clubs and knives, even the last one, who should have known better. The leaders wouldn't leave camp. Maybe they were too smart to stray far from daddy, they didn't gang up on me when I jumped in to kill him by hand. Who knows? Maybe they didn't mind so much.
The camp was pretty sad. The only structure was the last corner of a stone building (the demons probably destroyed it themselves) with an untanned hide stretched over it, held with a few pegs. Some human things were ground into the mud: torn cloth, kitchen stuff, random coins, and an identification scroll. No clues about anything important.
While I was searching the camp, Rogues attacked me. Not like Kashya wanted to -- these were working with the enemy. I couldn't see why either. I'm not sure if you could call them "humiliated" so much... more like degraded. For one thing, they couldn't talk. They moved by half-crawling, hunched down near the ground like animals. When they came at me, they attacked with their teeth, which had gotten long and sharp -- one even had horns growing out of her head. The weirdest thing is that they were all wearing g-strings, and that's about all. Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but I don't think panties that slip up your crack are standard issue among the Rogues. I don't have many body consciousness issues myself, but I had to admit, Kashya had a point. These women were not wearing butt floss because they thought they looked good in it, even the ones that did. Gheed would have liked looking at them, from a safe distance. I didn't have distance, so I had to kill them. As each died, an angry spirit like an animal with horns and huge teeth left her body.
There were a few more possessed Rogues, and some Bigfeet. A few times, I tried knocking whatever spirit was in the Rogues out, but it never worked. They'd wormed their way in too deep for a minor mentalist to pry 'em out. Mostly, the plains were full of whining midgets. It got to the point where I just got tired of looking at them, even to take aim. I haven't seen anything that needed to be put out of its misery that much since I was a kid and had to spend a week feeding our neighbor's spaniel. The dog was completely deaf, mostly blind, and had arthritis so bad he dragged both hind legs, but dear old Mrs. Fluffynutty couldn't bear to have the little bastard put down no matter how much he begged.
A burning mess near one side of the pass must have been the church. There was a tall part that might have been a steeple, and one of the dead guys outside looked like a priest. He was a he, surprisingly enough. I borrowed his studded leather jerkin, and his pants. They were the only pants I'd seen in the whole damn pass, and I'm sure a priest wouldn't want me wandering around being humiliated all day.
There was a cave on the other side of the pass. I like dark places, and I could always use the practice sneaking around. If Blood Raven was raising the dead, the cave was where she was storing them. Everywhere there were zombies, some so old all the flesh was gone and they were nothing but bones. The toughest took enough bolts to hold up a pavilion. At the rear of the cave, a single group of possessed Rogues was hiding out. These dear ladies still had their thigh-high boots, and kept enough of their minds to use weapons -- not very well, but it's the thought that counts. One of the funniest things I found in the cave was an enchanted club someone had named "Corpse Splitter." It had heavy anti-undead magic in it, so the "corpse" part fit, but who would name a club "splitter"?
Charsi noticed my new outfit. "Oh. I think that vest used to be brother Mensel's."
"When I found him, he wasn't in pain any anymore," I said. "If it bothers you, I'll not wear it." Most people, when you offer to do something that spares their feelings, think they're at fault for being upset. Pretending to care lets you get away with a lot.
"No, no, that's all right," she said, still looking sad. "Almost everything we have belonged to someone who's dead now. Why'd you dye it black?"
Good girl. "It's the color of mourning and sadness. Burning churches, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, eyes wide. "I didn't know you were upset. It's really hard to tell what you're feeling. Before, I wondered if you cared about anything."
It shouldn't have, but that stung. Probably because I knew she meant it. This girl was as open as a window on a sunny spring day. Nobody in the Viz-Jaq'taar ever left themselves like that. "Uh, yeah. I was surprised to see he was a he. I thought this monastery was for women only."
"Oh, he wasn't in the monastery, he ran the visitor's church in the pass. Outsiders didn't come to services in the cathedral. They used to, but some of them got kind of upset about Lady Akara's sermons."
"Yeah, sermons can get to me, too. There are a lot of little shrines around there too."
"Yeah, they've been there since, like, forever. I think they're from some old religion."
"Ah." That's the problem with Charsi... she was more than willing to talk, but didn't have much important to say. "Say, where'd you get your pants?"
"I made 'em... I needed something to protect my legs from the sparks."
"Good idea. Well, thanks for everything."
Eventually, got back to the graveyard. Maybe I should have been faster, there were a lot more zombies waiting for me. They move pretty slow, so I had lots of time to look the place over. The graveyard fence was wrought iron, stylish but expensive. The gateposts were decorated with female nudes, an odd choice for a graveyard. Looks like the Sightless Eye has no objection to displays of the female form. Not too surprising: even Kashya shows enough thigh to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window. Still... it was different with the possessed Rogues. These stone maidens weren't degraded, and I could not tell you why they were not -- any more than I could tell you how a leer from one greasy lech got me to put on a pair of pants.
One thing the Viz-Jaq'taar taught me is: never to go in the front door. The graveyard fence had fallen in several places, so entry was easy. A weeping willow tree grew in the center of the yard, a very sentimental image spoiled by the fresh corpses hanging in its branches. The headstones were too small to hide behind, but it didn't matter anyway: the zombies saw me as soon as I poked my head up. As a flaming arrow arced over their heads, something that wasn't human anymore rasped, "Join my army of the dead!" I made sure I wouldn't be where that arrow landed, and at my leisure, scampered like hell around the tree for a clear shot.
Blood Raven was dead white and puffy, with dark rings around her eyes. At first I thought she looked bruised, until I saw the swollen flesh had bone under it, like her whole skeleton was changing shape. Her hair was all gone; she had two bony horns up there instead. Other parts of her looked as good as ever... maybe better. If someone was changing her body, he didn't like women at all, but had definite ideas about what he wanted a woman to be. One thing he wanted Blood Raven to be was fast. She dodged like a wasp away from my first shot, and my second, and third. I had more trouble avoiding her shots; the crowd of zombies staggering around the yard didn't help any either.
We traded a few dozen shots. She was a lot more generous than I was, and those damn burning arrows hurt. I got her once. She didn't stop to tell me if it hurt. The crossbow was getting me nowhere fast -- she was better than me. If I was going to win, I'd have to make the fight mine, doing something I was better at. That meant blades. I hid behind a crypt to change weapons, and Blood Raven was angry or bloodthirsty enough to come in after me. I wanted to take her alive, she had some talking to do. But even at close range, with no zombies to hide behind, she was too dangerous. In the end, I had no choice -- it was her or me. I nailed the b!tch to the crypt wall. The spirit in her took a long time to blast its way out, almost destroying her body. Its zombies dropped like sacks of mud. She'd been hostess to something big, but not anymore. When I kill something, it stays dead.
Looking around, I was surprised at how many corpses were scattered around. You expect them to stay where they are once they're six feet under. I guess demons don't care what's hallowed or not. There's a lot of argument among the Viz-Jaq'taar about whether a priest is just another kind of mage, and if they're using is the same magic sorcerers do. Personally, I think priests don't do magic themselves, they appeal to a spirit to do their thing for them. A priest doesn't have to know anything, and most don't, they just have faith. In a lot of ways, that makes them more dangerous than sorcerers. Demons can claim to be benevolent spirits, and a faithful, naive priest would never know the difference.
Even with Blood Raven dead, I had to make sure everything in the graveyard was properly disposed of. Enough zombies were left that I was sure I'd be seeing a lot more of them in the future. In one of the mausolea, some force made a pentagram of fire that I couldn't put out. Whoever's doing all this doesn't care who knows it, that's for sure. The Rogues also left a lot of barrels in the crypts. Some exploded when cracked open, an old trick meant to catch grave robbers. All it does is encourage them to avoid barrels.
Meanwhile, back in camp, Kashya's attitude had lightened a bit. "I can hardly believe you've defeated Blood Raven!"
It makes me uncomfortable how the Rogues know what's up before I tell them. If they've got scouts trailing me, I have never spotted them. "Yeah, but I never got her to talk. She was too good. I had to put her down hard."
"But... but you defeated her!"
"When I didn't want to. I wasn't good enough." Then I saw what was really on Kashya's mind. "She was a better archer than me. I had to trick her, and it was a trick that left me no leeway. The only thing I could do was kill her."
She nodded, more satisfied now. She could still be better than me, in her mind. "She used to be my greatest friend. I couldn't understand how she could make the choice she did."
"She didn't make a choice, it was made for her. Now, I have to go."
"What? Where are you going?"
"Akara told me Blood Raven went to a town called Tristram. I think whatever she had, she brought back from there, so that's where I'm going next. We don't have any agents in that part of the world."
Kashya blinked in confusion. "We?"
"The Viz-Jaq'taar. Ask Akara, she's probably heard of us."
I was almost out of the camp before she called out, "Why don't you go the quick way?"
From what I remembered of Khanduras, Tristram was a tiny town at least a week's journey from the Rogue Pass. You could probably walk right past it if you didn't know where it was. If I had to go, a quick way there was worth investigating. I came back. "Quick way?"
"Yes," Kashya nodded, staring curiously at me. "The quick way. The one Blood Raven and the others used. You're not going to walk there, are you?"
"Don't tell me, let me guess," I said, ignoring her question. "This insignificant town not only has its own bishop, it has its own Horadric waypoint."
"No. They used the old gate out on the stony field. It's a ring of five stones. Touch them in the right order, and a portal opens that takes you there."
That would be better. "Where is this gate?"
"In the stony field just north of the graveyard. Can't miss it."
"Good. What order do I touch the stones in?"
Kashya frowned. "I never got to use them. Akara knows."
"Good. Looks like we both have something to ask her."
===Chapter 4===
"Ah yes, the old gate: a ring of stones in what is now a lonely field. It existed before our monastery was built, and may stand even after all signs of us are gone." Akara's wrinkled lips curled up into a faint smile. "Though I certainly hope not. The gate stones are enchanted to create portals to several locations, depending on the order in which they are activated. These were obviously important places for those who built the circle, though much time has passed and for many of them, nothing now remains. Tristram may be reached by the gate... but I am at a loss to recall its specific code."
"Try to remember," I said.
"All the codes were recorded in my personal library, in the annals of our order. Tristram's code would be used only infrequently, and was written down close at hand; I saw no purpose in committing it to memory. Though all is not yet lost."
I smiled. "Of course not. I'll just fight my way into your personal library. While I'm in the neighborhood, I might as well find out who took over the monastery and get rid of him. Don't worry, it isn't too much of a bother."
"Hush, child. It will be much simpler than that. Further up the pass, an ancient tree of prodigious size stands in a dark wood. Travelers were accustomed to leave messages there, and many of the gate's codes were carved into its bark."
"How convenient."
"The wood is some distance from here, but an underground passage you will find near the gate should afford you a much shorter journey."
"It just gets better and better," I laughed. "Do I get a porter to carry my luggage, too?"
"Sadly, no. There is little more I can offer you but my fond wishes that you will find what you need in Tristram."
No "come back and see us again" or "good luck staying alive." Guess I didn't make a good impression. When I left, Kashya got her chance at Akara. I hid behind a tent and listened. I'm as curious as the next person about what people say behind my back.
"Luggage?" Kashya started off, louder than she should have. "She came here with nothing but black leather boots and a thong, what luggage?"
"Calm yourself, it was only an attempt at humor. She is a capable warrior, and I will not speculate on her choice in apparel, though I also wondered at it."
"At least. Akara, what are the Viz-Jaq'taar? She said she was one."
The old woman went silent. When her voice crept back like someone being summoned to an angry boss's office, it was too quiet for me to hear.
The Viz-Jaq'taar, the Order of Mage Slayers, also known as the Society of Assassins. We make people nervous, even ones who aren't sorcerers. When you think about it, that's not too surprising. We're a secretive order -- we have to be. Our quarry is among the most dangerous in the world, and the less they know about what's coming, the better. A society with a good cause shouldn't have reason to hide, most people think, so they don't like secret societies, especially ones dedicated to killing. The only reason I told Kashya is because I didn't think I'd be seeing her again. Maybe killing the enemy and vanishing into the sunset would even help our reputation a little.
Kashya and Akara were talking in low tones. It looked like they were going to try to keep it quiet, so in this tightly-packed camp, everyone would know before I got back from my next run. No point sticking around, then. I'd know how they took it soon enough.
I was on my way to the waypoint when a new guy stopped me. He was skinny and pale, with lank white hair and the fullest pack I've ever seen in my life. "Howdy doo!" he almost yelled. "Somebody called for a porter?"
Oh, great, he thinks he's funny too. "Hi there. Sorry, all I need to carry are some old boots and a thong. Who'd you say you were?"
"I'm The Mule, your gorgeousness! Love the pants, but wish you'd stuck with the thong. Here, take this, you'll be needing it!" From somewhere in the pile on his back, he handed me a crossbow with a steel bow and a stock made out of two twisted iron rods. "That there is Leadcrow! I'll be back later with some other things."
All I could think to do was blink stupidly at the crossbow. I'm not usually like that. By the time I was satisfied that it was indeed a crossbow, he was gone. I never even got the chance to scan him. The bow looked fine, with no residual demonic vibrations. Its power was obvious... it looked very strong.
Following the land upwards, I quickly found the gate stones. Just like Kashya said, there were five of them, in a little ring of five with another stone a short distance away, like the stem on a flower. They were taller than me by a lot, but I'm used to things going over my head. When I got closer, a small group of demons came out from behind them. Instead of red, they were baby blue. Did they know what I was coming for, or were the stones just a good place to hide? Whichever, it didn't save them. The new crossbow was spectacular, I felt stronger just holding it. Good thing, too -- one of the little bastards zapped me with lightning before he died. I was glad to keep him far away.
The more powerful crossbow made things a lot easier. There were more little devils -- normal red ones and a few baby-blues -- but a lot more skeletons and some big goat demons. Once it has rotted down to a skeleton, killing a zombie with a bow is difficult. You have to hit the joints and other weak places until it falls apart. A club would do a better job, but these ones had bows they weren't very good with. I was actually safer at a distance, a rare thing with archers. The goat guys were persistent, and took a lot of shots to kill. Aiming for the knees didn't work nearly as well as you'd think, with their funny-looking legs.
The field was big and wide open, without a lot of places to hide. The trees were all burned down, and the grass trampled flat. A lot of times I found myself running halfway back to the Rogue camp with a crowd of goats behind me, trying to snipe them down to size. Still, it wasn't big enough that there should be another Horadric waypoint there. I know they built them all over, but I couldn't see any reason to have two so close together. Maybe this was a more important place a long time ago. I found several primitive-looking headdresses made of animal skins, which I doubt anyone had worn for a long time, and a woodsy magic-type charm that rattled with beads made of animal bones. At least, I hope they were animal.
Every once in a while, I came across a cloud of predatory birds, flapping around in a flock like predatory birds aren't supposed to do. They also lived in nests, masses of who-knows-what held together with phlegm and evil thoughts. Even if they didn't attack me, I probably would have killed them just for being unnatural. Nowhere was there any sign of who or what lay at the root of this. I did find a moldy old book in a ruined house, but it was just local history about some neglected murderess. These demons weren't the kinds mages usually summon, so I didn't know much about them.
Back in camp, I could see word had gotten out. Everyone stared when my back was turned, and no one would look at my face. Warriv got really interested in stocking the fire. Gheed was hiding under his wagon, showing that every cloud has a silver lining. Charsi wouldn't talk at all, she just fixed my stuff and mumbled only what she had to. It bothered me more than it should have, like I'd stomped on a butterfly or something.
It took me a long time to find the underground passage Akara mentioned -- it was near the gate stones, and I'd decided to look everywhere else first. These caves were just like the others, full of demons and zombies and everything else that hates the light. The entrance was guarded by a group of high-quality skeletons with bows. They were actually better archers than me, so I fell back into the shadows, dropped the bow, and charged when they came close. Archers hate it when you do that.
The passage twisted back and forth for what felt like miles, with lots of dead ends and loops to get lost in. I would up leaving bodies in certain places to mark my way. I also found my first clue about the demons, when I was attacked by a pack of Misshapen, recognizable by their huge heads and bent, crippled bodies. Lightning runs in their veins, so lightning sorcerers like them and use them either as guardians or a source of raw materials. To get them, you have to bargain with demons of despair, pain, or the upper air.
A few groups of little demons had shacked up in the back corners or the cave. There were a lot of dead Rogues in there too, probably killed trying to cover their retreat. Every pack had one or two dead Rogues on the fire. All right, maybe they are more dangerous than a half-dead spaniel. Either that, or in the tight passages, the demons couldn't run away to escape combat, and fought harder. I was alone with no one to protect, so it was easy for me to lure them away from their leaders and pick them off from hiding. On a lower level, I found some possessed Rogues. These ones hadn't changed as much physically, and still had their hair. One even had a bow, though she tried use it like a club.
By the time I found the other end of the passage, it was dark. The shapes of trees loomed black on every side, throwing deep shadows everywhere. I could already tell I was going to like this place. Faint in the distance, a few feeble torches and the baby-blue backsides of a legion of demonlings introduced me to my next set of targets.
Blue demons are tougher than red ones. Maybe the color is supposed to be lightning blue or icy blue and look scary, but it doesn't work at all. The camp was big, with several leaders and a couple dozen possessed Rogues. These girls had their hair and no bows, but used spears to charge in a phalanx. Knocking them around psychically almost wore me out. In the end, I ran. Chasing me gave them a little exercise, until they got tired and lay down.
As a personal challenge, I tried making my way through the camp by hand, dousing torches as I went. A few times, I could sneak right past a whole group of baby-blues and cut their leader's throat before he even knew I was there. Darkness isn't always an enemy. The little guys really worked themselves up trying to find me, sometimes to kill me, other times to know where to run away from. Once the leaders were dead, target practice began. They never ran as fast or as far as the red guys, though. One or two almost took a piece of me home with them.
On the other side of the now-dark camp, I was moving into some trees, when the "trees" suddenly moved. Darkness isn't always your friend, either. It was a group of Bigfeet, led by one with fists the size and consistency of maul heads. Pushing them back took everything I had. I ran, I hid, I even tried to fool them with the body of a dead Rogue, nothing worked. Finally, I stopped concentrating on the big guy (I couldn't make any progress in his head anyway) and started picking off his buddies. That worked better, so I led them in a circle around the demonling camp, whittling them down. With the big guy, I had to use my katar. I wasn't carrying enough bolts to kill him.
Deeper in the woods, I found a tree. You'd expect that, but this one was different: it shone in the darkness with a quiet, silvery light. The glow would be invisible by day, but in the dark I could actually see my hand against the trunk. Scars and carvings made outlined shadows on the trunk, like tattoos or some other violation of the body. Several nearby places had gate codes carved into the tree, but I found the one I wanted quick enough: downwards drop, one, zero, upwards drop, two. Another waypoint had been built right next to the tree. Maybe I should have expected that.
Getting back to the gate took less than a minute. Waypoints are the only way to travel. As I hit Tristram's code, the stones lit up, and started spitting lightning and arcs of electricity when the code was complete. If these old rocks weren't working right anymore, I was going to be pissed. Finally, after too much time sputtering and sparking to reassure me, a portal appeared, an old-fashioned red one.
Most of the time with portals, you don't notice a time gap. You step and you're there. This portal had a gap, tiny but noticeable. Was it really that big a distance? Or was the gate malfunctioning? I'd better make this quick. I was outside a town, clearly visible because every building was a burning ruin. Dead cows floated in the nearby stream, bloated bodies stiff and swollen. From the town square, I could hear demonic chanting and howling, and what sounded like one man, screaming for his life.
The town was a loss. I couldn't see many dead bodies, at least not lying on the ground. Walking skeletons were another matter: they were everywhere, along with goat demons and little black demonlings. Hopefully, the black guys wouldn't be too much tougher than baby-blues. Hanging over the square's central fountain was an iron cage, with an old man tugging impotently at the bars. Demonlings were trying to get the fountain to boil by piling burning wood around it. The smoke would probably dry the old man into jerky before that happened, but I felt like doing my good deed for the day anyway. A bolt through their leader's neck announced my presence.
They came out to find me in groups. The goats were by far the worst -- I would swear they could see in the dark. More than once, they cornered me, and I had to pull out the katar and take whatever hits they dished out. These skeletons were excellent archers when they saw me, which was too often for my tastes. The demonlings were easy enough, but I've had lots of practice killing them. Skirting around the burning town, staying in the shadows and alive, must have taken over an hour. On the western edge of town, the fattest zombie in the world stood guard. Maybe they expected an attack from that direction.
When I finally worked up enough guts to poke my head into the town square, it was quiet and dark. The fires around the fountain had died, but I could hear the old man whimpering. Nobody was in the buildings. Nothing was in the fields. Everything was dead, except us.
"Hello," I said. "Don't be afraid."
"I can't see you!" the old man cried. "Where are you?"
"I'm right here," I said, stepping in front of a burning building. "They're all dead. Let me get you down from there."
The old man was hunched and filthy, wearing a blue robe that might be older than me. He also had the most amazing set of thick, bushy eyebrows. He was lucky they hadn't caught fire and burned his face off. "Have you come to rescue me?" he asked.
"Well, I did," I smiled, getting my water flask. What was left in the fountain had too much demon in it to give to anyone. "My name is Amy. This is Tristram, isn't it?"
"Not long ago, it was," he sniveled. "Now, Diablo's fury has left nothing but ashes!"
The air turned cold, or maybe it was just me. "Diablo? Of The Three?"
"Yes, Diablo, the Lord of Terror! Long ago, Diablo was slain here, and his spirit imprisoned deep within the earth. When the land began to grow corrupt, I feared he had broken from his prison, and now I am sure of it! Terror walks the land again!"
"Where did he go?" I asked. "What's he going to do?"
"Not long ago, when our king went mad and was slain by his own knights, I suspected a foul influence had laid claim to his soul. As matters worsened, many traveling adventurers came to Tristram, seeking to combat the evil that was rising up from --"
"Yeah, yeah, what about Diablo? Is he here?"
"When a great hero went further than any other had dared go, and came back claiming to have vanquished the great demon, I thought all would be well again. Little did I know that was only the beginning of our suffering!"
"Wait, Diablo's dead?"
"Diablo's spirit cannot be vanquished by steel or spells. Like all greater demonkind, he is eternal and can only be dispelled, never destroyed. Our celebrations were misguided, and now I see that the hero who slew him was only a pawn in his scheme."
"What scheme!?" Would this old fart ever get to the point?
"Shortly after he slew Diablo, our hero began to behave oddly..."
Crap. "Sudden fits of madness?"
"Yes! And terrible dreams, from which he always awoke screaming. I thought the trials he had faced had been too much for him, and that --"
"He'd get better with time, right. What happened to him?"
"Always in his dreams, he shouted about 'the east.' I am not sure what that means, but it is known that Diablo's brother demon, Baal, Lord of Destruction, was buried in a hidden tomb far away in the mystical east. I believe Diablo's spirit is guiding our hero there."
"Okay, the east. That's the desert of... um..."
"The burning sands of Aranoch, full of tombs and mysteries. It seems to me that while in possession of our hero, Diablo must travel as men do. The easiest path to take through the mountains to the east is via the Rogue Monastery, north of here. I must go there and warn them of the dark wanderer who must not be allowed to pass through into Aranoch!"
I heard a thump. I think it was my heart, hitting the sole of my left boot. "It's a little late for that. I have a portal to the Rogue pass, let's get you out of here. It doesn't look like he left anything else for me to find here anyway."
===Chapter 5===
Back at the Rogue camp, I got the whole story. The old guy turned out to be Deckard Cain, a noncombatant Horadrim, probably the last person they ever recruited, now one of the most famous sages in the post-Horadrim world. Even I'd heard of him. He didn't bother to explain what he was doing in a cow town in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't ask. His story about Diablo was more interesting.