Act1	Act2	Act3	Act4	Act5	Epilogue
The Den of Evil Blood Raven The Rescue of Cain The Countess The Horadric Malus Andarial	Radament's Lair The Horadric Staff The Claw Viper Curse The Arcane Sanctuary The Summoner The Tomb of Tal Rasha	The Jade Figurine The Ghidbinn The Pieces of Khalim's Will Lam Esen's Tome The Kurast Council The Durance of Hate	The Fallen Angel The Hellforge Diablo's Sanctuary	The Siege A Rescue of Friends Put on Ice The Betrayor The Ancients Final Destruction	Act 1, Nightmare Act 2, Nightmare Act 3, Nightmare Act 4, Nightmare Act 5, Nightmare Hell

Cain stepped through the portal first, and the others followed him. After the sulfurous fires of Hell, the snow-filled, winter air was a shock to them all. Oksana shivered, pulling out her cloak. Ron Bars smiled, looking up into the sky. Dogmeat looked up too, sneezing when a snowflake drifted into his nose.

They followed Cain to the center of the village. A large barbarian, with blond hair and a gigantic beard, came lumbering forward. "Ronnie, me boy!" He engulfed Ron Bars in a giant hug, crushing the smaller barbarian. "How've ye been, out exploring the world?"

He chuckled, pushing his way out of the hug. "Just fine, dad. How's mom? Oh, this is my father, Qual-Kehk, leader of the fighting men of Harrogath."

Qual-kehk grew serious. "It's been bad, son. Baal came through here, demanding the sacred relic, to gain entrance to the Worldstone chamber. Of course we refused, but the hordes of demons put the city under siege. Your mother has been working her poor feet off, caring for the wounded."

Ron Bars nodded, and led them through the city to the healer's building. Puttering around inside was a middle-aged woman, skinny as a rail, gray just coming into her hair. She stopped, squinting as they climbed the steps up to the door, then came hobbling forward. "Ron Bars, you crazy boy! Finally decided to come home and help out, did you?" She captured her son in a hug no less fierce.

Ron Bars grinned, turning back to the others. "This is my mother, Malah." He gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek. "Don't worry mom, Tyrael sent us here to stop Baal."

She humphed, a tear springing to her eye. "My very own boy, a hero." She then punched him in the arm. "Well, don't just stand here, get to it! The city's not getting any better, you know!"

As if to underscore her words, from the west came a flying ball of magical energy. It smashed against the wall, magical balls of lightning crawling around the outside of the wall for a moment before dissipating. "You see what I mean?" She thumped him again. "Go talk to Larzuk, the new blacksmith. He knows what's going on, and he's less busy than I am." Malah turned back to her patients, administering medicines and healing potions.

Erris looked at Ron Bars with a great deal of surprise. "Those are your parents?"

He looked back at her, unsure. "Yes, why?"

She shook her head. "It is true. Parents are the same everywhere." She then frowned. "Except, my mom is the warrior leader."

The others laughed at them as they crossed the devastated city, to find out what their first task would be.

---

Slowly, the gates of Harrogath clanked shut behind them. The snowfall had slowed, leaving only a thin dusting of white across the torn landscape. Hefting their weapons, they looked north, up the mountain. "So, we're supposed to find this overseer who's in charge of the siege?" Erris asked, almost rhetorically.

Rupert nodded, stepping out across the muddy ground. With their breath smoking, the others followed him. Before they had gone a dozen steps, they began to see bodies littering the landscape - some demon, some barbarian warriors. Ron Bars' face turned grim as they passed more bodies.

But before long, they found battle. Across the entire lower slopes, demons fought the fierce tribes of the mountain. The heroes seemed to fight their way up the foothills with an ever-changing company of barbarians. Halfway up the foothills, the trail narrowed dangerously.

Broken war machines had sunk into the mud, leaving a narrow path scarcely wide enough for one person. But atop the broken siege engines hunched a company of imps, and from behind it came a company of the piggish warriors. As the other barbarians charged into the bottleneck, the heroes waited, using their skills to try and pick off the imps.

Then Rupert snapped his fingers. Grabbing Ron Bars and Garou, he headed for the war machine closest to the edge of the cliff. Taking hold of one side, all three of them heaved. Their feet sunk into the mud past their ankles, but the siege engine started to slide through the freezing mud.

Slowly, one wheel slid off the edge of the cliff. With a tortured shriek of metal, the entire engine started to bend. The heroes fought to pull away, barely freeing themselves from the mud as the entire thing went crashing away down the slopes.

With the path now widened, the demons were easily pushed back by the combined might of the heroes and the barbarian warriors. Forcing their way through the demonic ranks, they fought towards the summit. "The overseer is probably near the staircase," Ron Bars shouted over the noise of battle.

"What staircase?" Jezebel asked, incinerating another demon.

"When the tribes first started making pilgrimages to the peak of Mount Arreat, they had to carve stone stairs through some places. Right by the first staircase is a flat platform area. It would be an excellent lookout spot." During a short break in the battle, he sketched in the dirt what he meant.

Rupert looked at the drawing. "Well, if we can, we should go around the side here. Then we at least might be able to catch him in the flank." Looking up, Rupert flattened himself to the ground. "Look out!"

Everyone looked up to see a magical catapult shot flying towards them. Quickly, Ron Bars dropped his axes, and picked up a fallen demon's club. Winding up, he swung to hit it. The ball shattered, covering Ron Bars with shards of ice.

After Erris helped him to wipe the ice from his face, they continued up the mountain.

---

They neared the staircase, as the rocky shelf closed up against the cliff face again. Abandoning the rampaging horde of barbarians, the heroes kept to the side of the cliff, moving in the shadows as they tried to fight quietly. Soon they were at the base of the stone staircase, watching the bloated Overseer and his piggish bodyguards.

Rupert gave a signal, and they charged forth from their hiding spot. Garou whooped in triumph as he swiped at a hunch-backed demon, only to reel back in shock as the demon exploded. But with surprise on their side, the bodyguards were killed, and the Overseer proved no more difficult than them. Bleeding and burned, a last arrow sent the demon toppling from his perch to land below, where a few straggler barbarians hacked apart the corpse.

Ron Bars hung his axes from his belt, and brushed his hands together. "That was easy. Let's get back to Harrogath before nightfall, and find out what needs to be done next." As they started to turn back for the city, a sudden barrage of magical energy came flying down from higher up the mountain. Poisonous clouds obscured their vision, while electrical bolts singed their feet.

Soon the attack ended, however, and the heroes lost no time in moving back down the mountain to the city.

---

Larzuk smiled broadly as they walked up the steps to his forge. "Congratulations! I'm glad that didn't take you very long. We've been suffering under this siege for far too long, anyway. Tell you what, as a reward, I'll work a socket into a piece of your equipment."

Erris looked at him blankly. "What's that for?"

The blacksmith hesitated. "Well, if you put a magical rune, or a gemstone, into your equipment, it'll grant it magical properties." He looked around the heroes. "You mean to tell me none of you have ever used socketed equipment?"

Jezebel shook her head. "Nope, but I was wondering why my staff had these three little holes here. They work great for storing scrolls, though." She held up her staff, whacking Rupert in the back of the head as she did so.

Ron Bars had turned red, and carefully removed a small pouch from under his armor. He spilled out a little bit of the contents into his hands. Gemstones of all types and cuts, mixed in with small pieces of slate or bone, sparkled in the firelight from the forge. "I've been picking these up since we ran into Blood Raven. My dad collects runes."

Though somewhat angry, the others forgave their friend, and carefully followed Larzuk's instructions to place the potent runes and gems into their gear. Feeling empowered, the crossed back to the main square in the swiftly growing darkness.

From up ahead, they heard a sharp hiss, and then an oil lamp sprang to light. Huddling together for warmth, they hurried over to Qual-Kehk and Cain, bent over the lamp and a rough map.

"Now, here, the demons have been building up fortified walls, trenches, all that stuff. Some of our warriors were caught coming down the mountain, and I know they're being kept prisoner somewhere around here." The mercenary leader circled a small area of the mountain.

Rupert looked at the map as well. "How many prisoners do they still hold? We have to go up the mountain after Baal, we might be able to free some of them."

The man sighed, and ran a hand over his graying beard. "At least fifty. But I don't know how many will still be alive." He stared up at the sky. "The snow is coming, and it'll hit hard very soon. Those demons haven't been feeding their prisoners."

Oksana clapped him on the back jovially. "Don't worry, we'll be sure to get them out of there if we can. But with this storm coming, where can we sleep for the night?"

Qual-Kehk bowed his head sadly. "The siege has sadly left many empty houses. If you see one marked with a skull, then it is empty. You can use some of those, but please don't disturb the contents of the house."

Garou nodded. "Of course not. We'll do everything we can to save your men tomorrow." The mercenary leader waved them away dispiritedly, save for a hug from his son.

His breath frosting, Rupert headed away from the rest of the group, back towards the forge to talk with Larzuk before the night. The others paired off, picking an abandoned dwelling each, hurrying to shelter before the might of the storm hit.

The blizzard struck that night, dropping snow like an avalanche over the city and the slopes of the mountain. The morning sun shone down on the city of Harrogath, half-buried in the bright, white fluff. As Oksana and Tharos climbed out of a window, they could see a few people around at the dawn hour, most with shovels or thick brooms, clearing paths through the snow. They both shivered, clutching each other close for warmth.

Slowly, they reassembled in the square, led only by Ron Bars' familiarity with his city. Rupert came stumbling up last, and Garou sniffed him strangely. "You slept all night in front of the forge?"

Rupert might have blushed, but it didn't show through already snow-roughened cheeks. "The blizzard hit before Larzuk and I finished talking. And it was warm."

Oksana giggled. "Too bad, you might have heard the wolf howl last night." To her surprise, it was Jezebel that blushed furiously at that, not Garou. The druid did shift into his werewolf form, sighing in relief with his extra fur coat.

Erris gestured impatiently towards the closed gate, and the heroes reluctantly started forward. Ice-covered gears clattered as the gate raised, and they stepped out onto the mountain. It looked deceivingly beautiful, the devastation of the siege hidden by a blanket of white.

Before they could start forward, Ron Bars took off his pack, passing around several pairs of snowshoes. Awkwardly strapping them on, the group hiked up the mountain, leaving large, shallow marks in the snow. When they reached the staircase, however, they were forced to stop.

The snow covered it like a large ramp, and Rupert snorted, looking up at it. "How the heck are we supposed to climb it with all the snow?" In response, the barbarian walked up to the base, and took off his snowshoes, sinking to his waist in the snow. Carefully holding the freezing rock on one side, he pushed his way through the snow to the top.

Reluctantly, the others followed him. The slope above was less thick with snow, and in many places seemed plowed clear. Other spots showed clear spots of melting - before the snow refroze as a slippery patch of ice. Erris shivered, looking across the blinding landscape. "Now this is truly Hell," she muttered.

Ron Bars sighed, putting his snowshoes back into his pack. "We should keep moving. There's obviously demons around here. And some of my people need to be saved." Drawing their weapons anew, they started forward.

---

Ron Bars and Garou charged desperately after another flame-throwing demon imp. But as before, just before they reached the demon, it teleported away in a whoosh of fire. Looking around, they saw it perched on a rock, sticking out a forked tongue at them. As the barbarian lifted an axe to throw it, a pair of skeletons grabbed it from behind, poison seeping through their hands and rotting the demon away.

Another imp popped into place next to Garou, and without hesitation the druid grabbed it, tearing out the demon’s throat. Jezebel looked nauseous. “You’d better do something to clean out that mouth before you even think of kissing me,” she muttered. His sharp wolf ears caught the words, and he whimpered in mock innocence.

“Enough banter,” Rupert interrupted. “I think that’s the first line of barricades.” Barely visible under the snow was a hastily constructed stone wall. Crude towers, with sharpened poles sticking out from the top, looked like perfect sniping positions for the imps. “Let’s see if we can find one of those prisoner pens.”

They strode forward in the knee-deep snow, letting arrows and spells deal with a few straggling demons. Reaching the wall, Oksana looked in both directions. “How are we supposed to get through? Or should we just climb over?”

Ron Bars snorted, carefully dropping an axe into the snow. He pulled back and punched the wall. With a rumble, a whole section collapsed. From the other side, a group of giant, bear-like demons roared and charged, shaking the earth with every step. Many of them also bore baskets on their back, perfect perches for the demon imps.

Despite their size, the beasts proved to be no more formidable than other monsters. Soon they had crossed into the small maze of fortified walls, happily using the confined spaces to strike down the teleporting demons. From behind another wall came a barbarian war cry, and Ron Bars and Garou charged the wall, knocking down a huge section.

The prisoner pen was a pitiful sight. Only five warriors remained alive, all of them looking badly starved and mostly frozen. Piled against one side of the wooden fence were over twenty corpses, all of them frozen to death during the cruel night. Jezebel tossed a scroll over the fence, and one of the warriors read it out.

As they hobbled through to safety, one imp teleported into the pen. The barbarian who had read the scroll turned, and they traded blows. Unfortunately for the imp, the single punch was enough to send it flying backward, shattering the wooden fence. Pointing a stern finger at the corpses, he boomed, “I’ll be back,” before also stepping to safety.

Erris looked around at the ruin and the corpses. “Your dad isn’t going to be real happy about this, Ron,” she said, concerned. “If this is how many people survived here, I’m worried how many survived at the other two prisoner pens.” The barbarian hero nodded grimly.

Rupert turned, starting to lead the party further up the mountain towards the next set of entrenchments. Erris interrupted him. “Hey, Rupert? You mind if I join you?”

He turned back, looking at her confused. “What’s the matter?”

In disgust, she pointed at her feet. “I got frozen to the soil by those damn imps.”

Jezebel laughed, and set a gout of flame at Erris’ feet. Steam rose in a billowing cloud, and the amazon quickly lurched free, trying to shake the moisture out of her hair. “Great, now it’ll probably freeze solid,” she muttered.

---

Several hundred yards up the mountain, they again chased imps back and forth across the icy landscape. Rupert finally managed to bash the last one, and they turned to the new set of walls. Ron Bars let out a warcry, and waited. From off to one side came an answering shout, and the heroes raced along the wall.

Imps teleported into the towers along the wall, using their positions to fire as the racing heroes. But the towers were just as shoddy as the rest of the wall, easily falling to a strong punch, or an occasional well placed arrow. Nearing the spot of the prisoner pen, Oksana leaped up on the wall, traps in hand.

But from the other side of the wall came such a massive firey attack, it picked her off the wall, tossing her through the air to land, a dozen feet away in the snow, her armor and cloak smoking. Tharos ran to her side, helping her drink a healing potion, then walked back to the wall, his face set in a grimace of anger.

Pulling his dagger from his belt, he cast it to the ground, waving his wand and chanting. As the others watched, the metal deformed, growing rapidly in size. Soon, an eight-foot, metal giant stood there next to the wall. Following its master’s commands, the golem turned to the wall, and squatted.

Metal hands punched through the base of the wall, then heaved. A twenty foot section of wall went flying into the air, the stones raining down on the crowd of imps behind it. Their fire bolts did not even leave marks on the metal hide, and the golem used every sharpened limb to attack the imps.

The others watched, impressed and a little frightened, as the golem decimated the demons. When the last few teleported away, bleeding and fleeing the magical monster, the golem finally slowed. It approached the pen, and the five survivors backed away as the golem carefully tore apart the wooden palisade.

Oksana had risen, and stood next to Tharos. Quietly, she asked, “I don’t suppose you can train one of those to do housekeeping, can you?” Unexpectedly, he burst out into laughter. Further away in the maze of stonework, they could hear demons, frightened and confused by their latest opponents, talking in some demonic tongue.

Ron Bars hushed him. “Not so loud, Tharos.” He looked up the mountain anxiously. “The biggest danger of this is not demons, but an avalanche.”

Garou waved a paw in dismissal. “What’s to worry about? It’s just snow.”

He shook his head angrily. “Try saying that when you’ve been buried under fifty feet of snow and frozen mud.” He gazed up the cliff at a higher part of the mountain. “We’re probably safe for the morning, but in the afternoon, once the sun has been shining all day … it would be the simplest way for Baal to kill us all.”

Jezebel handed the prisoners another scroll. But the thought of Baal left everyone silent, as they continued their way up the mountain, towards the third prisoner pen.

---

Tharos growled in annoyance, as his iron golem went dashing back and forth across the landscape, churning together snow and mud. But an arrow clipped the demon imp, knocking it to the ground, and the golem trampled the body into the mud before it could rise. “I really hate these imps,” he muttered.

Jezebel nodded, casting a lightning bolt at an imp, but missing, the bolt striking the mountainside, bringing down a small avalanche of snow and rock. “If the little bastards would just hold still for a moment,” she grumbled.

Before long, they saw the next, and hopefully last, set of barricades along the mountain. With Ron Bars leading the way, they broke down the walls, sending more demons back to oblivion as they searched for the captive barbarians.

Before long, they shattered another wall, finding the wooden palisade that should have held the prisoners. But the gate lay open, and other than a pair of frozen corpses, the cage was empty. They all stared at it in surprise. “What happened to them? Where could they have gone?”

Oksana clambered up onto a wall, and pointed up the mountain in dismay. The others quickly worked their way out of the stone maze to follow her pointing arm. Under an archway of dark granite, a large group of imps were herding the last prisoners through a red portal.

“That looks like another portal to Hell,” Erris groaned, as the heroes charged up the slope, fighting their way through the snow to rescue the barbarian warriors. “How the heck did they get a portal to Hell here?”

They skidded to a stop before the platform. Around the edges came an orange, fiery light, and great heat. All around the portal the snow had melted away. Jezebel carefully walked up to the archway, and examined the carved granite. “I think Baal must have brought these with him. If we destroy the archway, it should close the portal.”

Ron Bars strode up to the portal, his axes in hand. “First, we go rescue the warriors. Then we’ll destroy this evil thing.” He stalked through, and the others followed him nervously.

---

Ron Bars had moved so quickly through the portal that the two waiting imps actually missed him with their fire bolts. With a roar of anger, he lunged, striking one with the flat of his axe, casting the demon backwards into the river of flame. Oksana, next through the portal, gutted the other imp before it could attack again.

Grouping together, they moved along the stone path, fighting off imps, piggish demons, and their overseers. Finally, they stood at a bridge. On the other side, they could see the barbarian prisoners, tied together and forced to kneel. Standing over them were several minotaurs, armed with duel axes like Ron Bars.

The largest among them stood over one of the prisoners, raising his axes. But before he could strike the helpless captive, Ron Bars gave out a shout. The minotaur turned, his eyes narrowing. No one recognized the language, but the mocking tone, and the insolent look on Ron Bars’ face was clear enough. With a bellowing roar, the demon charged.

The warrior stood in the center of the bridge, his axes dangling at his sides, completely unworried. But when the demon closed to within a step, he suddenly dropped prone, swinging both of his axes. The demon tried to stop, but his hooves only struck sparks from the stone bridge.

The double impact against his legs rent the air with a loud crack as the demon’s bones shattered, sending it flying through the air to crash into a broken siege engine. With another mighty roar, Ron Bars leaped to his feat. The other minotaurs shared a nervous glance, then hefted their weapons and charged.

The other heroes joined Ron Bars to strike down the demons. Carefully, they cut the prisoner’s bonds, as Erris stood over the unconscious body of the leader. “What a bunch of bastards,” she said angrily. “I mean, they brought all of you down here to kill you!” The minotaurs by her feet stirred, and she promptly kicked it in the throat.

Rupert winced, as the demon gurgled his last breaths through a crushed windpipe. “Was that really necessary?” he asked her, helping one of the captives to his feet.

Oksana shrugged at him, searching the body of a minotaur. “They are only demons. Why should we show them kindness?”

Rupert thought about it for a moment, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing pointless cruelty. It makes us no better than those demons.” Supporting the weakened barbarian, he led the way back to the portal and out of Hell.

With the others helping the captives, Ron Bars and Garou each stood on one side of the arch. With a mighty heave, they ripped the stone arch free of the ground, the dropped it, standing back as it swung down to shatter against the ground. Instantly, the orange light and heat stopped as the portal vanished.

Jezebel pulled out the last scroll of town portal, reading it, and helping the rescued barbarians through first. Erris wrapped her cloak tighter around her. “Why does it have to be so cold on this angel-forsaken mountain?” Chuckling, Ron Bars wrapped his arms and his larger cloak around her, and they followed the others back to Harrogath.

---

Back in the city, on the lower slopes of the mountain, snow had started falling again. Qual-Kehk was helping one of the injured barbarians up the stairs to his wife’s hospital, and the heroes followed, helping the other rescued prisoners. With a heavy sigh, the mercenary leader lowered his charge onto a thin pallet. “Fifteen men left,” he sighed again.

Rupert stepped forward, looking slightly chagrinned. “I’m sorry, Qual-Kehk, but there was nothing we could do.”

He looked up in surprise, and shook his head vehemently. “Don’t worry lad, I don’t blame any of you. All the blame lies squarely with Baal and his demons.” He spit on the stone floor, earning him a baleful look from his wife.

Malah approached, and shared a brief hug with her husband and her son. “Have you found anything more about Anya?” Qual-Kehk shook his head worriedly, and Malah bit her lip. “I don’t know what could have happened to the poor girl,” she said.

Jezebel looked from Malah to Ron Bars. “Who’s Anya?” she asked.

Ron Bars grimaced, looking at Erris. “She’s the daughter of one of the elders, and my ex. What happened to her?” Erris looked back and forth between him and Malah, her eyes narrowed.

“Last night, after all of you had retired to empty houses, I heard them in the main square arguing. I don’t know what they were arguing about, but it ended with Nihlathak stalking away. This morning, Anya didn’t show up to help me with the wounded. That worm Nihlathak said he didn’t know where she had gone, but now he’s been missing all day.” Malah’s eyes were bright and suspicious. “I smell a trap,” she declared.

Bidding farewells, the heroes went back down to the square, talking quietly amongst themselves. “So, I take it your mother isn’t very thrilled that you and Anya never completed a courtship,” Erris said, her voice carefully neutral.

Ron Bars groaned. “We were born on the same day, exactly one year apart. Ever since we were kids, both of our parents have been pushing us towards getting married one day.” He sat down on the edge of a snow-covered wall, axe handles quietly thumping against the stone. “We only dated because we got tired listening to our parents complain. Believe me, she was the happiest person to see me leave Harrogath.”

Mollified, Erris slid onto his lap, wrapping his cloak around her. Rupert pulled off his helmet, swapping it for a fur cap. “So why is Anya so important, anyway?”

“Well, for starters, she’s the daughter – and only child – of one of the village elders.” Ron Bars shrugged. “On the death of an Elder, the rest of the council is supposed to decide on who replaces him. It’s always been one of his sons. But since she doesn’t have any brothers, she’s been agitating that she should replace her father when his time comes.”

Tharos chuckled. “I’d imagine she’s not having an easy time of it,” he said, leaning back against one of his skeletons.

Ron Bars chuckled. “Not really, no. There’s nothing that says she couldn’t be – just a very long tradition.”

“Larzuk also said that Anya was responsible for most of the trade that went on through the siege,” Rupert interjected. “But what could she have known that would make Nihlathak want to keep her out of the way?”

Jezebel sighed, shivering in the cold night air. “Right now, I don’t care. We should all get some sleep, and try to worry about it in the morning.”

Garou nodded agreement with her, wrapping were-wolf arms around her. “I don’t think the city supplies will be in danger now, since we’ve broken the siege lines for several miles. What do we have to look forward to, further up the mountain, Ron?”

The barbarian looked grim. “There’s another long plateau, like the ones we’ve been fighting across. After that, the only way to get further up the mountain is to climb through the caves.”

Erris groaned as they split up to return to their temporary homes. “I hate caves. I really hate caves. They’re just bound to be full of more Fallen!”

Rupert chuckled, watching his friends close doors behind them. Looking around the street, he changed course, crossing the city swiftly, his steps hurried and somewhat furtive. Reaching his destination, he crept up the steps and tapped quietly on the door. After a moment, the bolt drew back, and a callused hand pulled him inside. “I wondered if you were coming back,” Larzuk said quietly, a twinkle in his eyes.

---

In the bright morning air, they assembled again in the square, filing grimly through to the mountain. Whorls of frost made dizzying patterns in the mud, but the heroes paid no attention as they tramped up the side of Mount Arreat in the thin, freezing air.

In almost no time, they had reached another set of stairs, this one covered with scraggly bushes and stunted pine trees. Pieces of broken fence could still be seen in some spots, evidence of the barbarian tribesmen who used to live there. Squinting against the glare of the sun off the snow, they fought forward.

Because of the bright morning light, they didn’t see the fire, or the demons around it, until Garou stumbled through the bushes and stepped on one. Demons roared, leaping to their feet and grasping weapons. Ron Bars gave a war cry, and the heroes rushed into battle, eager to get adrenaline flowing.

The pig-faced demons were dispatched quickly, and Oksana wiped blood from the edge of her cestus. “That’s the second best way to wake up in the morning,” she said cheerfully, winking at Tharos.

Jezebel gave a wry smile. “Yes, and I’m sure the whole city of Harrogath heard you waking up the best way,” she chided. Oksana winked, not embarrassed in the slightest.

Rupert rolled his eyes. “Come on. We’ve got to get further up this plateau and find the tunnels. We’ve got to catch up to Baal before he reaches the summit.”

As the sun rose higher, more demons came out, and soon their trek up the mountain was the non-stop battle they had come to expect. A death mauler’s tentacle sprang out of the ground from behind a rock, and Garou ripped it free of the ground. Hearing the demon scream, Oksana lobbed a firebomb over the rock.

Halfway up the plateau, Ron Bars slowed. The others, noticing him lagging behind, dropped back. “What is it, Ron?” Erris asked him.

He shook his head irritably, looking around the mountain and sniffing the air. Garou raised his muzzle, scenting the air as well. “There must be another portal to Hell nearby,” he muttered, and Ron Bars nodded. The two of them took the lead, following the faint scent of sulfur and brimstone.

They found it, nestled into a small cubby against the sheer cliff of the mountain. The carved stone pillars were almost identical, down to the tortured leering on the skulls. Rupert sighed. “Well, should we head in and kill some more demons, or just wreck the portal?”

Tharos smiled, and his golem clattered forward, churning snow and mud in its wake. “Let’s go in after them. Who knows, we might find something useful inside.”

Erris nodded, fitting another arrow to her bow. “And if not, it’s still worth it to kill some demons,” she muttered under her breath.

---

Halfway along another stone path, Oksana paused to wipe sweat from her brow with one arm, using the other to block the clumsy attacks from a demon. With a snort of contempt, she kicked the demon between his legs, her greaves clanking noisily from the impact. As the demon doubled over, she cut his throat open, jumping over the body to avoid the splashing blood.

---

The heroes fought on through hordes of the pig demons, strong in their element and eager to destroy the minions of evil. Even Rupert was grinning, knocking a demon into the river of fire with his shield. Up ahead, they could see the end of the walkway, with a group of minotaurs guarding the chest.

Leading the group, Tharos’ golem clanked ahead, building up speed with demons diving aside rather than face it. Charging swiftly behind it, the heroes followed, bellowing war cries and more simple shouts of intimidation. But the leader of the minotaur stepped forward fearlessly to face the golem. The two met in a fury of blows.

In amazement, the heroes watched. The minotaur had dropped to his knees at the last moment, swinging his axes in at the golem’s legs. But instead of trying to sever them, the minotaur locked his weapon between the iron spikes, and flung the golem into the air. It went straight up into the air, rising at least forty feet before plummeting, right down towards the waiting minotaur.

With a loud clang, the minotaur swung his axes down, adding their momentum, as the golem slammed crushingly into the stone platform, sending stone and iron chips flying everywhere. Barely scratched, the minotaur gave a bellow of his own, leaping over the fallen golem.

With a rumble, the stone platform started to crack, lines racing out from the golem. One of the other minotaurs stumbled, trying to keep his balance as the stone floor split beneath his feet. As the crack widened, a piece drifted away onto the stone river, it fell with a pitiful bellow, splashing flames everywhere. Everyone stood for a moment, watching as the platform splintered apart, pieces drifting away before sinking down under the flames.

Dogmeat whined as the cracks started to extend up the walkway towards them. “Rupert, can I make a suggestion?” Jezebel asked worriedly.

“Sure,” he answered, raising his shield as spattered of flames splashed up from another minotaur falling.

“We run like hell back to the portal,” she said, starting to step back. The closest to the destruction, Ron Bars almost fell in when a piece of stone split away right under his foot. The heroes backed away, watching the horrified minotaur leader still standing on the largest piece of the platform, slowly sinking into the fires.

With another loud crack, the walkway split in two, the sides starting to drift apart. Jezebel screamed, falling to her knees as her staff rolled over the edge. Without breaking stride, Garou picked her up, Dogmeat barking furiously from somewhere closer to the portal. They leaped over cracks, racing to the portal before the entire walkway collapsed, sinking to the bottom of the eternal river of flames.

They were almost at the portal, when another large crack echoed out. Dogmeat yelped in terror, as the piece of stone he waited on drifted away from the portal. He ran back and forth along the edge, too terrified to jump back to safety. Taking a careful step back, Oksana leaped over the growing, ten-foot span of flames, landing next to the cowering Dogmeat.

With a grunt, she managed to pick him up. But her landing had pushed the stone further away, and it was sinking rapidly. With flames licking around her boots, she called over to the others. “Go on without us, stopping Baal is more important!” She tried to say more, but choked on her tears.

Jezebel shook her head, raising her empty hands and narrowing her eyes. With a deep breath, she reached out and cupped her hands. To their great surprise, Oksana rose into the air, fighting hard to keep the scared Dogmeat from squirming away. Sweat poured off Jezebel’s brow as they started to drift forward, buoyed by her telekinesis spell. They watched anxiously, their own stone piece shrinking rapidly as the edged frayed apart into the flames.

When they were almost at the edge, Jezebel groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head as she dropped into unconsciousness. Garou caught her, but the others watched, horrified, as Oksana and Dogmeat plummeted the few short feet towards the flames, only inches away from their reach.

Just before they hit the surface, charred skeletons leaped up from the flames, catching them and throwing them towards the edge of the stone. They all rushed through the portal, moments before their walkway collapsed completely. Resting in the snow, Garou stroking Jezebel’s unconscious face, it took them all several minutes before they could compose themselves to continue.

Back in the river of flames, the two skeletons floated on the surface, watching the portal close. They looked at each other, and one held up a sign. “How rude,” it said, “We just saved their lives, and they didn’t even call out thank you as they left.”

“Indeed,” answered the other sign, “but what did you expect from the living? All leading such misguided lives. They cannot stop the Lord of Destruction, no matter what they try.”

“More’s the pity” the first one replied, as they began to sink beneath the flames. The second merely nodded.

---

With Jezebel returned to consciousness, and Dogmeat’s burned paws wrapped with bandages, the heroes pressed on. The sun was dropping rapidly towards the horizon, giving the snow-covered valley below them the look of a million candles. Not too far ahead, where Ron Bars pointed, they could see the yawning entrance to the tunnel.

They reached the tunnel, gratefully stepping inside out of the wind, scant seconds before the sun disappeared. Darkness closed around them like a suffocating blanket, leaving them in hazy twilight until they could light torches. The firelight reflected and refracted in the ice, dancing orange light giving the tunnels a surreal glow.

The tunnel stretched out to their right, ice sculptures of fearsome bear-like creatures lining the walls. Ron Bars frowned, but started leading them deeper, towards the ice staircase somewhere up the mountain. Finally, he stopped, growling in frustration. “Something isn’t right here,” he muttered, looking back and forth as he waved his axes.

Garou sniffed, nodded. “I smell demons somewhere. But the smell of the ice itself makes it difficult.” Jezebel raised her empty hands, tossing globes of magical light towards the ceiling.

Oksana stepped closer to one of the statues, peering intently at it. “These statues are amazing, Ron. How did your people learn to carve such lifelike appearances?”

Then the statue roared, frozen breath covering Oksana’s face in a layer of ice. She fell to the ground, scraping her cestus against the ice as tortured lungs gasped for breath. All around them, the statues came to life, spraying ice from their mouths. Rupert staggered backwards, surprised as his scepter shattered one into nothing more than a spray of mist and slivers of ice.

Jezebel screamed as one of the ice monsters picked her up, forgetting her magic momentarily as she pounded the shaggy head. Then she put her hands against the beast’s arms, gouts of flame turning it into little more than a swirl of steam.

Despite the original surprise, the ice monsters were all melted or shattered quickly. With Oksana freed from the icy mask forced upon her, they all stopped again. Erris looked around the tunnel nervously. “Ok, let’s look at this – Jezebel has no staff, Tharos lost all his minions, and we’re all tired and past sunset. Time to return to Harrogath. Maybe we can ask Qual-Kehk, or one of the other barbarians for advice on how to get through these tunnels.”

Jezebel chuckled wryly, leaning back against an ice-covered wall. “I’d love to, except for one little problem. All my scrolls went into the flames with my staff.” Looking hopeless, she hit her thigh with a fist. “Either we tough it out here, or walk all the way back down the mountain in the middle of the night.”

Ron Bars shook his head. “No way. Even if we didn’t fall off the mountain, or get ambushed by any demons we didn’t kill, we’d freeze solid before we got back to Harrogath.”

Rupert swore, throwing his scepter against the wall. It bounced back, the others wincing at the loud echoes. Realizing what he had done, Rupert reached down, picking up his scepter. The head had come loose, and as he dropped it in defeat, fell off entirely.

With a cry of delight, Erris picked up the handle, reaching inside with her fingers. Grunting, she carefully pulled out a very old and weathered scroll. The edges were tattered, and it was starting to crack, but the scroll was in good enough shape for Jezebel to read out the runes.

Gratefully, they all stumbled back into Harrogath, Rupert holding the broken halves of his scepter. As they began to split up for the night, Garou stopped the paladin with a hand. “Going back to the forge tonight?”

Rupert blushed, and started to stammer out a reply. Garou laughed, stopped his half-formed protest. “Just don’t forget to ask if he can do anything for Jezebel’s staff. And maybe a spare weapon, so Tharos can make another golem.”

Speechless, Rupert stood there in the darkness, watching the druid rejoin Jezebel and disappear into the abandoned house. Eventually, he turned, stumbling through the deserted streets of Harrogath, back to Larzuk’s forge.

---

The next morning, six heroes assembled in the town square very shortly after the break of dawn. The air was thick with the smells of cooking and the sounds of fresh construction, repairing the walls after the long siege. Finally, Erris huffed, “Where the heck is Rupert?”

Almost as if answering her question, he came into view. They stared, jaws hanging open in shock, as he dragged a massive plow up, dropping it at Tharos’ feet. “There,” he panted, “Larzuk found that piece of scrap and said you could use it for a golem. Oh, and before I forget,” he picked up the staff that had been tied to the plow handle, “This is for you.”

Jezebel took the new staff, testing the feel and the weight. The others kept staring at the plow. “We had a plow?” Ron Bars asked in very clear surprise. “How the heck did he dig up that old thing? I can’t remember anyone ever trying to farm up here on the slopes.”

Tharos tapped the pitted wooden handle with his wand, then looked at Rupert. “You have GOT to be kidding me. I’ve seen broken swords that would be of more use.”

Rupert shrugged, leaning against a short stone wall. “Don’t ask me, I just dragged it here. Larzuk said it was enchanted, too.”

Erris was struggling not to laugh. “An enchanted plowshare, huh? What will he think of next – trading us magic beans to climb the rest of the way up the mountain?” Jezebel seemed to consider the idea seriously for a moment.

But a loud shout from Qual-Kehk interrupted her musings. “Ronnie!” he called, descending the stairs from the infirmary with another barbarian. The mercenary leader clapped his son heartily on the shoulder. “Ahnold here has volunteered to help you get through the tunnels and find Baal before he reaches the Ancients.”

The other barbarian gave Qual-Kehk a salute, intoning seriously, “I’ll be back.”

The heroes exchanged worried glances, before Tharos sighed, carefully touching his wand to the plow. Raising his eyes to the sky, as if for guidance, he intoned the magic words, turning the plow into a golem. Despite its former incarnation, the golem appeared no different than the last one.

As Jezebel started passing everyone through the portal, Rupert looked at Ahnold. “Um, Ahnold, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get that large lump on your head?”

The barbarian growled, turning red and angrily saying, “It’s not a tumah!”

Confused, Rupert nodded. “Of course not, but how did you get it?”

“It’s not a tumah!” Any further words he might have said were stopped by Jezebel accidentally tripping Ahnold through the portal.

Ron Bars leaned over to whisper to Rupert. “He’s not much on conversation. He got the lump as a kid when his father dropped him.”

Rupert stared incredulously. “It covered a quarter of his head! How could that be from a minor childhood injury?”

Ron Bars winced. “His dad was standing guard duty on top of the walls when it happened.”

They returned to the icy tunnels, rejoining the others. Rupert was last in the group, staring at his companion and wondering if he was joking.

---

Even in the middle of a battle with another group of ice monsters, many of the heroes eyes were glazed. The effects of reflecting torchlight off the frozen walls was hypnotizing, leaving the heroes feeling as though they were stuck in a strange dream or nightmare that they could not escape from. The only thing that kept them from falling completely under the spell was the clear, bright mage light at the top of Jezebel’s staff.

Ahnold was fearless, charging recklessly into swarms of monsters, laying about with a sword taller than he was, cleaving away limbs of ice monsters and minotaurs. The others followed him, more slowly, as they struggled against the hypnotism of the ice and their own weariness.

Suddenly, a faint sobbing threaded through the air, just barely audible over the sound of their footsteps. Rupert raised his head, shaking off the effects of the ice. “Wait, everyone. Stop moving.” The others started to shake themselves out of the daze as they, too, heard the faint crying. “Where is that coming from?”

Energized, Garou took the lead with a purpose, his sharp were-wolf ears picking out the faint noise even through their footsteps and clanking armor. Soon, they had found an ice staircase, winding down, further into the mountain. Ron Bars and Ahnold both stopped at the top of the stairs. “This isn’t good,” Ron said.

“What is it? Where do these stairs go, Ron?” Erris asked. “I mean, we’re hearing someone crying, shouldn’t we find out who it is?”

The two barbarians traded a grim look. “Down there is the frozen river. It used to be a safe passage to the other side of the mountain. But the ice is even more slippery and treacherous than these tunnels.”

Rupert stepped past him, taking the first few steps down. “It’s still something we should check out. You never know, that might be Anya down there.” Grimacing, Ron Bars followed him down.

---

They emerged on the edge of the frozen river, along a narrow ledge of stone. Chunks of ice floated along the river, drifting to the slow current. Pale fish scattered from the sudden light. Garou stood at the edge of the river, his ears swiveling around as he tried to locate where the crying was coming from.

With a growl, he shifted back into human form. “I don’t know what it is about this cavern, but there’s just too many echoes in here. I have no idea which direction we should go.” In response, Tharos set his wand on the stone, and spun it. When it came to a rest, they all looked to the left of the stairs.

With a shrug, they started off again, letting the golem go in front to test the strength of the stone ledge and ice. Once or twice, they had to stop as the stone creaked ominously, but the golem never fell in.

Suddenly, Ahnold stopped, pushing past the golem to take the lead. They followed him at a run, trying not to slip on the icy stone, watching their shadows leap and jump with the flickering torchlight. Suddenly, the ice shelf beneath the barbarian cracked, starting to slide into the water. He leaped, crashing heavily onto the stone ledge on the other side of the river.

The others managed to skid to a stop, catching each other to keep from falling into the river. One of the skeletons managed to keep Dogmeat from slipping over the edge, just before it overbalanced, dropping into the chill water with a dull splash, sinking to the bottom rapidly, magical flames still unquenched.

Erris looked at the broken path, then at Ahnold as he carefully stood up. “Great! How the heck are we supposed to get over there now?” She almost punched the stone wall, needing an outlet for her frustration.

Jezebel put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, this cavern can’t be that big. We’ll find another way around to where Ahnold is.” Oksana tossed the stranded barbarian one of the torches, before they turned around, retracing their steps to find a better way through the caverns.

---

Almost as soon as they stepped into new areas of the caves, the heroes were attacked. More ice monsters, fighting alongside minotaurs, did their best to sweep the heroes away into the icy waters, to lie at the bottom of the frozen river. But bravely, they fought on, refusing to leave their stranded companion, or the mystery voice, down here in the caverns.

Soon, Tharos pointed off into the darkness, where an answering swell of light could faintly be seen. As they grew closer, they heard the sounds of battle, and hurried forward. Rushing around a corner of the stone wall, they found Ahnold, lowering his sword, surrounded by shards of ice.

With a grunt, the two barbarians clasped hands, before Ahnold pulled a rapidly-melting dagger of ice out of his arm. Reunited, they all took a breather as they waited, hoping to catch the sound of the crying voice again.

But sadly, the area now was deathly quiet. Nothing but their own breathing, and the soft ripples of flowing water, echoed through the cavern. Finally, Rupert stood up, taking the lead as they pressed on. Just like their first minutes in the cavern, everything was silent and still, as though the demons had never arrived.

After several more minutes of walking, Rupert stopped, pointing ahead. The others dimmed the light from the torches as best they could, and peered again. Indeed, another light shone from somewhere in the distance, indistinct and dimmed by the reflections.

Silently, Jezebel’s mage light winked out, and as they grew closer, the torches were ground out against Rupert’s shield. Soon the dancing flames of a fire could even be distinguished in their reflections, and they paused before turning a corner. Their path had taken them down a sloping tunnel, away from the current path of the frozen river.

On a silent signal from Rupert, they all dashed around the corner, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the light of the flames. Silent except for their stomping feet and clanking armor, they almost fell upon the demons unawares.

They would have succeeded, except that the sight took them by surprise. Almost a hundred demons kneeled in rows, their backs to the tunnel. At the far end of the cavern, surrounded by a circle of torches, was Anya. She had been tied in place, then slowly covered in layers of ice, until the only thing left unfrozen was her head.

Unfortunately for the heroes, at the head of the cavern was one of the largest ice beasts they had seen. It was some kind of leader to the monsters, and it had been facing the tunnel when they came rushing it. With a mighty frost-filled roar that shook the cavern walls, it stepped around the prisoner.

Their surprise lost, the two barbarians roared their warcries back at the demons, flying into the ranks of minotaurs with leading steel edge. Erris’ first arrow forced the giant leader to duck behind his cohorts, shattering several of the icy spikes along his back.

With simple numbers, the demons pushed the heroes back into the tunnel. This, of course, proved that demons are stupid, as the close fighting quarters made the battle so much easier for the heroes. By the time the minotaurs had fought through a firewall and past the lightning traps and barrage of arrows, they could barely manage a single attack before falling dead.

When the press of minotaurs began to slacken, the heroes pushed forward again, driving into the main cavern to face off against the ice beast leader. But to their surprise, he was nowhere to be seen. After a quick search of the room provided no additional demons, the heroes clustered around the unconscious and frozen Anya.

Rupert tried to wake the girl, but to no effect. His paladin auras did not help her, and when Tharos tried to give her a healing potion, it dribbled out of her mouth, unswallowed. Jezebel finally stepped forward, and brought an Inferno spell to bear against the frozen pillar the girl was trapped in.

She held the fire against the ice for several minutes, before finally lowering the staff. Erris looked at the ice with fury. “You torched that thing for a handful of minutes, and it barely made a mark in it!” She kicked the pillar, then winced, hopping up and down on her other foot.

Anya took in a deep breath, forcing her eyes open. Everyone gathered around, as she whispered faintly, “Tell Malah … get an unfreezing potion … hurry.” Her head drooped as she fainted again. Without a word, Jezebel stepped back from the group, pulling out a scroll.

As the portal opened, she hesitated. “Somebody has to stay here, and make sure Anya doesn’t die before Malah can finish brewing this potion.” The others all nodded. “Tharos, you come with me. Your minions can help carry supplies.” They vanished, one by one, through the portal.

The other heroes settled down to wait, except for Oksana, who restlessly prowled the cave with a torch. Dogmeat whined, curling up between Garou and Rupert, sensing the doom and worry that pervaded the cave.

Suddenly, Oksana screamed, just as her torchlight vanished.

---

Jezebel ran across the city to Malah’s infirmary, with Tharos and his minions following swiftly behind. She skidded to a stop just inside the door, almost trampling a wounded city guard in her rush. Panting for breath, she leaned against her staff. “We found Anya,” she gasped between breaths.

Between the two heroes, they explained the trap Anya had been placed in. When Jezebel described the effect of her flame on the ice, Malah let loose a string of swear words that almost blistered the paint on the walls. “That dirty, vile snake Nihlathak!” she said, her voice venomous. “If he ever sets foot inside this city, no compact with any angel or demon will prevent my wrath!”

She hobbled across the infirmary to a large counter, and began pulling herbs and powders from the many cabinets nearby. Tharos watched for a moment, then headed back into the city. It looked like the others would be camped in front of Anya’s prison for a while – several hours at least, perhaps days. He loaded up the golem with food for the group, and both skeletons with firewood for their stay in the cave, just in case.

Feeling a little bitter and helpless, waiting on Malah to mix the potion, he stomped back through the portal to the ice cave.

---

The others leaped up, grabbing their weapons as they dashed towards the rear of the cave. Ahnold almost tripped over the fallen torch, and it would have sent him to his death. Somehow, in their earlier search, the heroes had not noticed the giant tunnel, leading almost straight down for at least a hundred feet, at the rear of the cave.

Rupert picked up the torch. The end was covered in ice crystals, and he swore as he threw it over his shoulder. “That ice beast leader must have escaped through here, and we didn’t even notice it until Oksana got grabbed by it!”

Ahnold leaned carefully over the edge of the tunnel, and spit down into the darkness. The ice on the sides of this tunnel was rough and jagged, forcing the light to shatter, cloaking the lower recesses. Erris took a chance, taking the torch from Rupert and dropping it down the tunnel. The flames disappeared shortly after it hit the bottom, but not before they could see where the passage leveled off again.

Garou swore as well. “Somehow, Oksana got carried away down there. But how the heck are we going to get down there to rescue her?” The others all shook their heads, muttering dispiritedly.

Tharos walked back into the cave, several minutes later, to find the others still gathered around the hole, discussing how to try and search for Oksana. None of them (except Ahnold, who was quickly ignored) even considered leaving her behind.

But at least for the moment, it appeared that the assassin was on her own.

---

Jezebel sat dejectedly in a corner of the infirmary, watching Malah work. The sun had set an hour before, but the hunchbacked woman made no sign of slowing her work with the injured. Few of them had new injuries, with the siege broken, but most of them were fighting off infection from their injuries.

The sorceress sighed, and was about to stand when the door pushed open, letting in a flurry of snowflakes along with Qual-Kehk. Jezebel watched them embrace, and the warrior join his wife in checking on the patients. Sighing again, she rose from her corner and walked over to examine the potion.

The small metal pot bubbled and steamed on a small bed of hot coals. Malah had said it would be ready sometime that night, but the sorceress had been waiting there all afternoon, and now past nightfall, waiting for it to finish.

Grumpily she went back to her corner, resting her head against her knees. How could she make Malah understand, they didn’t have much time?

---

Everyone stood back from the hole as Tharos carefully maneuvered the golem into place. Then with a sharp crack, the golem slammed an arm into the ground. The two skeletons moved into place, using the magical fire to melt the spikes free of the golem, leaving them there, sticking out of the stone next to the tunnel mouth.

Then the golem stepped forward, sliding down the tunnel and into the darkness. They could hear its passage by the shattering ice that echoed back. Tharos then stood over the spike, holding his wand loosely. “I just hope this works the way I think it will,” he muttered.

One skeleton kneeled down, grasping a broken spike with one hand. It leaned back, then seemed to unfold itself down the tunnel, turning into an odd, almost rope-like string of bones. The second skeleton slid down the first, unfolding itself when it reached the bottom. Magical fires lent scant light in the tunnel, melting away broken patches of ice.

Ron Bars, the largest and heaviest of the group, started carefully climbing down the skeletons to the bottom. He jumped off, landing the last few feet away from the rope, his axes ready. As the others descended, he managed to find the torch Erris had dropped down the tunnel, scraping away the ice and lighting it again.

Once everyone was gathered at the bottom, they set off exploring the tunnel, letting the clanking golem lead the way with a torch stuck between spikes. Before long, Garou and Ron Bars stopped, examining a series of scratches on the icy floor. “We’re on the right trail,” the druid said.

---

Oksana glared at the large ice beast, as it chained her to the stone wall. Nihlathak stood in another part of the cave, unconcerned with the chill air. When the former Elder looked her way, she spat at him.

“You have spirit, bratling of Tyrael,” he chuckled. “But now you are embarking on a course you cannot hope to succeed. Baal is the master here, and soon the Prime Evils will rule over this world.”

Oksana said nothing, testing her chains. Nihlathak chuckled again as the soft clanking noise. “Why do you fight so hard? You should be glad; at last, our cursed species will be granted the oblivion it deserves. We have been watching you, and we know all of your weaknesses.”

She snorted. “Keep talking, traitor. My friends’ll have your head mounted on a pike in front of the Harrogath gates.” She rattled the chains again.

Nihlathak’s face grew furious, and he stepped forward, slapping her several times, drawing blood where his ring cut her face. But Oksana accepted the blows stoically, spitting in his face the moment he stopped. He roared in rage, drawing a dagger from beneath his robes.

He never got a chance to use it. Grabbing her chains, Oksana flipped up, kicking him in the face and chest, knocking the fallen Elder away from her and onto his back. In seconds, she had freed herself from the chains, and drew her weapons again.

But Nihlathak did not meet her attack. With a shout in a demonic tongue, he threw something to the floor of the cave, filling the area with a thick, white smoke. The ice beast roared nearby, and Oksana threw herself flat, narrowly avoiding the massive swipe.

Her friends heard the roar, and went into a full charge. The golem disappeared into the smoke first, smashing right into the ice beast, knocking both of them over. Garou fought to clear the smoke away by summoning the winds, but the beast was back on its feet before they could see it.

Seeing her opponent clearly, Oksana tossed a pair of inferno traps up onto the monster’s back, then rolled away towards the far side of the cave. Bare seconds later, the traps fired, cutting the beast in half with a cloud of steam. With a tortured roar, the beast collapsed, ice splinters showering the room.

Garou blew the rest of the smoke away as Tharos rushed over to Oksana. “What happened? Are you all right?” He helped her to her feet as she brushed away fragments of ice from her armor.

Oksana nodded. “It was Nihlathak. He was here, and he’s definitely sided with Baal.” She shivered, remembering his words. “He wants the world to end.”

Lighting more torches, they searched the cave very carefully. But after a quarter hour of searching, no sign of Nihlathak, or any other tunnels, were found. “He must have teleported away,” Rupert grumbled. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him at some point.”

Reunited, they trooped back, climbing up the skeleton rope to wait beside Anya. When the girl wasn’t unconscious, she muttered incoherently, whispering about demons and Nihlathak and the siege. Rupert managed to get her to drink part of a healing potion, but it seemed to help her very little.

They built a fire and shared a meal, wrapping themselves in cloaks and blankets to wait for the potion from Malah. Tharos had almost nodded off to sleep, his head pillowed on Oksana’s chest, when he thought of something. Blinking at Garou, he asked, “What happened to your raven, Munin?”

The druid yawned, letting his werewolf features slip away for a moment. “Well, as you may not know, the tribes of Mount Arreat, and my druid people, were once close relatives. Long before the Prime Evils were banished to this world, they split over differences about protecting the mountain.”

Ron Bars nodded. “Aye, my people stayed here, and yours moved into the great forests at the foot of the mountain.”

“Yes. The druids were to prevent evil from reaching the mountain, and your tribes were supposed to hold off anyone who got passed us.” He fell silent for a moment, staring into the fire. “Baal is here. That means he must have fought through my people. I sent Munin down the mountain, to bring back a message from whomever remains.”

Erris reached over and patted Garou on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your people are fine. I have heard tales of the size of that forest, and even Baal could not destroy it all.”

Everyone grew silent again, lost in their own thoughts.

---

Sometime around midnight, she thought, Jezebel awoke. Malah stood near her, nudging the sorceress with her cane. “It is done, young sorceress,” she said, holding up the bottle.

Jezebel leaped to her feet, almost knocking Malah over. “Thank goodness! We’ll bring back Anya as soon as we can break her free of the ice!” She carefully tucked the potion into her belt, unbolting the door to the infirmary, dashing out into the cold, snowy night.

Everyone awoke as Jezebel came skidding back into the ice cave, dropping her staff. Rupert leaped up, catching her before she could fall. “Is the potion done? Where is it?” She carefully removed it from her belt, handing it to him.

With excitement, everyone gathered around Anya’s prison as Rupert started pouring out the potion. Swirling like oil on fire, the potion almost leaped towards the ice, melting it away into nothingness as it consumed the magical ice. Several helping arms reached forward to hold her up as she began to topple, and they picked her up, carrying her back through the portal.

The storm picked up in fury as they carried their burden across town, shoving open the infirmary door again. With Malah watching carefully, they laid her down on an empty cot.

Suddenly, Anya gasped in pain, and everyone drew back a step. Buried in her side was a dagger, the end of the hilt shaped like Baal’s face, twin rubies sparkling for eyes. With twin shouts of fury, Malah and Qual-Kehk forced everyone away from the bed. “Which one of you did this,” the warrior roared, waking all the patients. “Which one of you is a traitor?”

The eight looked between themselves. Every face held an expression of horror and dismay, unbelieving that they could have been betrayed from within. Stunned, they allowed Qual-Kehk to force them outside, into the midnight darkness of Harrogath.

Ahnold looked around the group. “What now?”

Rupert shuddered, his face the color of ashes. “Go home, sleep if you can. Let’s meet in the morning, at the forge. Maybe Larzuk can tell us something about the dagger then.”

With wary looks, they separated, vanishing into their temporary homes.

---

The next morning, everyone gathered at the forge, let in by a grim-faced Larzuk. Rupert sat by the forge fire, his hands wrapped around a mug. When everyone had chosen a place to sit, he turned, looking them over one by one. Finally, he cleared his throat, and started talking.

“We all saw the dagger. Any one of us could have stabbed her, we were all standing so close together no one would have noticed it. And if the hilt is any indicator, it was demonically forged.” He stopped for a moment, the others watching him, half in expectation, half in anxiety. “So now we have to figure out which one of you did it.”

Garou spluttered in outrage. “What do you mean, which one of us? You’re too good to be part of the group, mister high-and-mighty?”

Rupert scowled back. “Hardly! But I didn’t stab Anya. I’m not about to kill anyone with a dishonorable, back-stabbing attack like that!”

Erris nodded, glaring at Tharos. “Besides, he’s the only one of us who’s ever used a dagger,” she growled, pointing.

He leaped to his feet. “Oh, I get it. Just because I work with the dead means I’m here to kill everyone? If that was the case I never would have saved you all from Duriel!”

Ron Bars barked in laughter. “Sure, after you got yourself swallowed to avoid fighting! Not to mention that monster you summoned up in the desert back there!”

Garou snarled back at him. “Well, at least he’s never lied to the group about anything. Like the ability to talk!”

Jezebel turned on him, slapping Garou across the face. “Hah, as if you’re one to talk! Sending your pet carrion bird off with secret messages. How are we supposed to believe that you aren’t the one in league with Baal?”

Oksana glared at her. “As if you’re one to talk, mage. Who else would know how to use a demon-forged weapon?”

Rupert snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure that you, as an assassin, would know plenty enough about stabbing someone in the back.”

The argument drew even more heated, the insults flying freely. Suddenly, Larzuk stormed into the group, shoving everyone apart. “This is Baal’s doing!” he roared, shaking the very building.

Everyone grew silent, focusing their anger at Larzuk. “Can’t you see this is the work of Baal? How much easier his task would be if he destroyed your friendship, your cooperation? He possesses the greatest human mage known, Tal Rasha. Are all of you so blinded by his spell you’ll kill each other for him?”

Larzuk watched each of them carefully in turn, as they digested his words. Finally, Tharos nodded. “You’re right, even if a part of me does not want to accept it.” He took a deep breath, still fighting to calm his temper. “But if one of us didn’t plant the dagger, how did Anya get stabbed?”

The blacksmith smiled thinly. “Nihlathak is no stranger to the forces of magic. Rupert told me that he vanished from the cave where you saw him. If he can teleport himself away, why could he not teleport a dagger in?”

Jezebel widened her eyes, then thumped her hand against her forehead. “Of course, it makes so much sense. Baal gives him the dagger, enchanted to sow hatred and discord, and we fall for it so easily.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment.

Larzuk nodded slowly. “I don’t know all that much about magical spells. But it does seem the most likely, at least more than one of you having been a pawn of evil all this time.” He took the mug back from Rupert, and walked to the door. “Right now, you should all go check on Anya, and then perhaps get back to your task at hand – tracking down the Lord of Destruction.”

With reluctant nods, the heroes trekked back out into the snow.

---

Reluctantly, Qual-Kehk allowed them back into the infirmary, after Rupert explained their thoughts about Nihlathak. Malah gently shook the sleeping girl awake, and she looked up at the group of heroes for several silent moments.

“Thank you, for rescuing me from Nihlathak. But it is very grave news I must give you.” Anya fell silent again, gathering her strength. “At the top of the mountain, guarding the entrance to the Worldstone chambers, are three of the greatest heroes of our tribes. There is a special relic, which allows one to pass by them unchallenged.

“Nihlathak has given it to Baal. After the other members of the council sacrificed themselves, to lay a spell of protection over the city, he went to the demon and offered him the relic if he would leave the city undestroyed.” Coughing, she paused as Malah helped her sit up and drink from a cup. “That is why Cain was so surprised to see the city looking so undamaged, I think.”

Rupert scowled. “If Baal has this token, how are we supposed to pass by the spirits of your ancestors to stop him?”

Anya chuckled softly. “In true fashion, you must fight and defeat them. But first, Nihlathak must be dealt with. He has sold his soul, and betrayed our city. On top of that, he has made a new home, in the halls of pain and anguish.”

The barbarians in the infirmary all started muttering angrily. “Such sacrilege!” Qual-Kehk boomed out. “Has he no shame, betraying us to the Lord of Destruction? Does he truly think the demon will keep his word?”

“I do not know his thoughts,” Anya said. “But I can open a portal for you, to the plateau outside the halls.”

Before she could open the portal, Malah stepped forward and took the girl’s hands. “No opening portals in here, and not with the shape you’re in, girl. Let it wait a day, until you have recovered more of your strength.” Nodding, Anya complied, sinking back into the cot.

Disenchanted, the heroes trooped back into the cold, bright winter morning of Harrogath. Garou sighed, sitting down on the stone wall. “Just wonderful,” he muttered, “Baal has free passage to the Worldstone, and we still haven’t caught up with him. To top it off, we have to make a detour.”

Ron Bars growled at him. “Would you allow a traitor such as Nihlathak to live, with the damage he has already done to the city?” Erris put a hand on his arm, hoping to calm the angry barbarian.

Garou shook his head. “No, I would not. But shouldn’t we be chasing Baal first? Nihlathak may be a traitor and apparently a powerful mage, but without his demonic master, how much danger will he be?”

“You don’t understand,” Ron Bars growled back, shaking off Erris’ hand. “The halls of pain and anguish are catacombs, where the people of my tribes bury the honorable dead. Under Baal’s tutelage, I have no doubts that will desecrate the graves, raising them all as undead, and bring it against the city. This time, there will be no agreement to stop him from burning it to the ground.”

Rupert stepped between the two of them. “All right, we understand. Let’s not start fighting again, because this time we might break free of Baal’s spell.” He looked sternly between the two. “But for right now, let’s get back to the icy tunnels. We have to wait on Anya to reach the halls, and we must catch up to Baal.”

Grimly, they hefted their weapons, returning through the portal to the ice cave, wending back along the icy river and up into the tunnels again.

---

They spent hours wandering through the icy tunnels, more than once wondering if they were walking around in circles. But finally, they found the last staircase, and emerged from a cave onto another plateau, far higher on the mountain. The few trees here were stunted pine trees, bent by the constant winds and buried in snow.

Ron Bars peered out into the whirling snowfall. “It’s only midafternoon,” he shouted over the storm. “Should we try going out across the plateau, towards the last set of tunnels, or go back to town now?”

Rupert pulled everyone away from the entrance, out of the wind. “Is the wind always this fierce up here?” Both barbarians nodded, and Ahnold gave an exaggerated shiver. “Fine, then let’s return to Harrogath. We need better, warmer gear before we try to cross this plateau.”

Jezebel handed a scroll to Tharos. As he read off the portal, Erris asked her, “Why don’t you open it as usual?”

The sorceress grimaced. “Any person can only have one such portal open. If we go to these halls, and need to return, this portal won’t close. I don’t think everyone wanted to hike back up the mountain.”

With a chuckle, they returned to Harrogath, returning to the infirmary. To their relief, Anya was looking much better, sitting up and eating a bowl of stew. She smiled a little as the heroes trooped in past Malah’s steely gaze. “Again, all of you have my thanks for my rescue from the ice,” she said, her voice soft. “Even if you weren’t able to stop Nihlathak from getting the last word, as it were.”

With a grimace, she touched the bandage around her side. At the head of the group, Rupert bowed. “It is a good thing you cried out, or we might not have known you were down at the frozen river,” he said.

For a moment, she looked puzzled. “I was delirious, but perhaps I did cry out. Regardless, it was lucky for all of us.” She sat up a little straighter, holding in a wince. Tomorrow morning, I will open a portal to Nihlathak and the halls in front of my home.” Anya gave Ron Bars a wry grin. “You do still remember where that is?”

He sighed, looking sour. “Yes, I do. If I ever forgot, dad would beat the directions into me with a halberd again.”

She chuckled again, then winked at Erris. “Don’t worry, he’s safe with you. Ron’s a great friend, but not someone I want to be married to.” The amazon blushed a little at the straightforward remark.

Rupert gave another nod to Anya. “Then for now, we should let you rest, and find warmer gear for the upper plateau on Mount Arreat.” They all trooped out into the clear, wintry day, heading across the city to find someone to lend them fur cloaks for their next assault on the mountain.

---

They met again the next morning in the main square. Before they could do more than nod hello, Qual-Kehk came down the steps from the infirmary. “Good day to you,” he boomed out. “Malah found this in some old potion recipes, and thought it might be of some use to you.”

Jezebel took the offered scroll, glancing down the written runes. “This is incredible!” she said. “A magical spell to give us resistance to magic.”

He grunted. “Well, the only thing Malah said, was to make sure everyone read it at the same time.” With a nod of farewell, he marched back up to the infirmary. The heroes all gathered around Jezebel, carefully looking over the scroll before they all started chanting.

As the scroll finished, everyone shivered, feeling the tingles of the magic spell running over their skin like ants. When it finished, Ron Bars led them through the city to Anya’s house. As he raised a fist to pound on the door, they heard her calling from around the side of the house. “Morning, everyone,” she said, her face pale. She leaned a little further out of the unshuttered window.

Rupert gave her a small salute with his scepter. “Good morning, Anya. Shall we set forth after Nihlathak right away?”

She chuckled dryly. “In a moment. Malah made me promise not to leave the house, so I’ll open the portal right here.” She took a deep breath, and winked at Ron Bars. “Remind you of sneaking in when we were courting?”

Erris scowled, turning on the barbarian. “You used to sneak into her room?”

Looking annoyed, he glared at Anya. “No, because our parents basically forced us to court, we would meet in front of her house, get out of sight of her father, then sneak Anya back into her room and I’d go drink a mug or two of mead with some of the other fighters.”

Erris blushed as Anya laughed. Steadying herself with another deep breath, she leaned a little further out of the window, speaking a few magical words. A reddish portal sprang into being beneath the window, and Anya slumped back in exhaustion. “Go get the traitor, bring back his head so we can mount it on the gates,” she said. “I’m going back to bed before Malah shows up to yell at me.”

Carefully she retreated, closing the shutters. Ron Bars and Ahnold shared a grim look, before stepping through the portal.

They emerged on a windy, very small plateau. Dead bodies, still outfitted with giant swords and barbarian armor, lay scattered around the entrance. “Someone knew he was here,” Tharos murmured, stepping over to examine one of the picked-clean skeletons. A rat, nibbling on what was left on one skeleton, scurried away in fear.

Huddling together against the wind, they started towards the entrance. Halfway there, Tharos stopped suddenly, raising his wand. The iron golem clunked forward, shattering one of the skeletons, even as the others rose up all about them. “It’s a trap!” he cried, aiming his wand and loosing a bone spear at a group of skeletons.

They struck back savagely, cleaving apart the skeletons and throwing them backwards. But even as they would kill one, another had pulled itself together again and returned to its state of undeath. Shattered bones slowly reformed, and the skeletons picked up their fallen weapons.

Finally, Garou surged forward, grabbing a skull in each paw. With a roar, the druid smashed them together, throwing the fragments over the side of the cliff. The others followed his example, driving back the skeletons that kept rising, until they could throw them over the cliff, to shatter on the rocks below.

Catching their breath, they gazed about at the few shattered bone pieces left, scattered about the small plateau. “This is going to be a long, hard battle,” Rupert muttered.

---

Somewhere in the first set of halls, the heroes stood in a circle. As the skeleton started to rise again, Ahnold’s sword shattered it in half again. “Forty-seven!” Garou cried out, and they waited. After another minute, when the skeleton had failed to rise, there were groans from around the circle. “And the winner with the closest guess of fifty-nine, Erris wins the pot.”

He handed over the stack of gold coins. Erris pocketed them, grinning, and they turned to go down the steps to the next level. “You know,” Rupert said, frowning, “I can’t help feeling like we shouldn’t be betting on how many times these undead will rise. There were, after all, your people, Ron.”

The barbarian chuckled, burying axes into another minotaur, throwing the corpse backward into a pair of skeletons. “Their souls are in heaven, waiting for the day they will spill into Hell to enact vengeance on Baal and his minions.” He ducked another roaring charge, removing both skeletal arms before crushing the skull under his boot. “No, we are angry because this is supposed to be a place of mourning, and Nihlathak has corrupted it.”

Ahnold nodded agreement, his eyes glowing red with bloodlust. “He will be termahnated,” he boomed out, dropping his sword through a skeleton. Exploring the winding lines of tunnels, they stopped around another skeleton, counting each time another weapon smashed it back to the stone. This time, Tharos won the pot, counting out his winnings as his golem ground the last skeleton into dust.

Another two levels down, Ron Bars stopped the group. “We’re getting close,” he said quietly. “This is the lowest level I know of. If Nihlathak is here in these halls, he’ll be in one of the main chambers.”

They cautiously gazed down the four passageways, before Rupert finally picked one at random. They moved as quietly as possible, and stopped in awe when they came to the wide, open hall. The two barbarians kept moving for a moment, before stopping to look back at their companions.

This hall was painted along every wall and column, frescos of wolves and barbarian hunters. In many of them, the two groups were mixed in, some drawings even appearing as both wolf and man from different angle. Garou smiled, trailing a finger along one. Even Dogmeat seemed to recognize the pictures, wagging his scruffy tail.

“This is the hall for the Shadow Wolf tribe,” Ron Bars said quietly. “One hall for each of the major tribes. This is where mourning ceremonies take place.” He fell silent, looking up at the carved and painted ceiling, a tear rolling down his cheek.

With sudden fury, Ron Bars gripped both his axes, stalking to the back of the room and into the preparation chamber. Winged harpies sprang into the air, urging demons forward with their screeching. Shaking the mountain with his war cry, Ron Bars sprang forward into the horde, axes bringing a tornado of death even as his friends rushed to his support.

When the bodies had all fallen, Ron Bars looked around the room. Here, the demons had taken pain to scratch away paint, chip at the rock, and do what they could to befoul the cave. The barbarians were both crying tears of rage, and turned without a word. “We search every cave,” Ron Bars growled.

The others did not argue, sharing some of the barbarian’s pain, seeing the ruin of such a beautiful and historical place.

---

They turned right, walking down the painted corridor below pictures of graceful cranes and other birds. This time, the demons were waiting for them in the main hall. Harpies screeched, hurling curses at the group while the piggish demons threw themselves forward in an orgy of self-destruction.

Ahnold was at the head this time, with Ron Bars on one side, and the golem on the other. The two barbarians kept up a chanting song in their native tongue, hurling back broken and crumpled bodies. An arrow flew through the air, nailing a harpy to the stone wall like some obscene butterfly.

The preparation room for the Crane tribe was empty this time, but marks of the demons’ residence was plentiful. One corner, which had been filled with jars of herbs and anointing oils, had been turned into a latrine, befouling everything.

Without stopping, the barbarians turned around, stalking to the Snake hallway. Again, the demons met and fell under the heroic assault, the exquisite painting shimmering in torchlight before being bathed in demon blood.

As they stepped into the preparation room here, a flock of harpies dropped from the ceiling of the room, dive bombing and slashing wickedly with sharp claws. Ahnold fell to the floor, one side of his head bleeding viciously. Another harpy crashed into the golem, flopped about in vain as she bled to death.

Once these demons were dead as well, Ahnold stood up unsteadily. Despite the amount of blood, his scalp wound seemed superficial. Waving away a healing potion, he led the way to the last of the four halls. For Nihlathak surely waited in the halls of his own tribe – the Bear.

---

They stepped into the main hallway, looking at the painted walls in distraction, their footsteps echoing ominously as they moved to the back. Just before they could turn the corner for the preparation room, Tharos suddenly shouted, “Stop! Don’t go in there!”

His face was even more deathly pale than usual, and they followed his gestures to slowly back away. From inside came Nihlathak’s mocking laughter. “What is it, Tharos,” Ron Bars muttered angrily through clenched teeth.”

“Remember the exploding midget skeletons in Kurast?” They all nodded, a little puzzled. “Some necromancers can do that to any corpse – enchant it to detonate like that.”

Erris frowned, running her fingers up and down the string of her bow. “So what?”

“The whole chamber is knee-deep in corpses, all enchanted like that.” The laughter echoed through the hall again. “The moment we set foot in there, we’re all dead. Nihlathak knows his life is over, and is just determined to take us with him.”

With expressions altering between fury and worry, they moved further back in the hall, discussing strategy quietly, listening to Nihlathak’s half-maddened songs of praise to Baal. Finally, Oksana stopped planning, walked over to examine the iron golem, statue-like near one wall. “Hey Tharos,” she asked quietly, “How indestructible is this thing?”

She carefully tapped the golem’s arm with her cestus. The others all turned to watch her while Tharos thought. “Well, it’s solid iron, and enchanted to boot. What did you have in mind?”

She held up a handful of firebombs. “They explode on contact, right?” The others started to smile as they glimpsed her plan.

With an armful of firebombs and lightning traps, the golem lumbered into the preparation chamber. Nihlathak’s shriek of glee echoed throughout the hall. Then Tharos lowered his wand, and the golem dropped all of the traps.

The resulting explosion threw the group backwards, and everyone lost their breath as they slammed into the stone. Massive cracks raced through the paintings, chips falling away and marring the delicate work of barbarians generations ago. Fighting hard to regain their breath, the heroes struggled back to their feet, grasping for fallen weapons to prepare, just in case Nihlathak had another trick up his sleeve.

But a few moments later, the golem clanked slowly from the preparation room. Spikes had been dented and bent, and a huge chunk of stone was still stuck to one leg. With a collective sigh of relief, everyone lowered their weapons and started forward, to inspect the damage.

Suddenly, Nihlathak lunged forward from the room. Holding in his intestines with his one working arm, the fallen elder was obviously not long for the mortal realm. “A pox on all of you!” he gasped out, spitting blood in his mad fury. “You will never be able to defeat the Lord of Destruction as you are, never! You are already betrayed, and your trust brings your doom. I will see you again, false heroes – I will see you again!”

He started to laugh again, whirling around on his torn and bloody legs. Magic started to whirl out of him, the stolen demonic power flaking away as Nihlathak lost his hold on life. Shadows whirled around him, faster and faster, matching the tempo of his laugh, until they all rose in the shriek of a hurricane.

With a snap, the noise, the shadows, and the body of Nihlathak vanished. Rupert waved his scepter in a gesture of warding. “Angels and ministers of grace, defend us,” he whispered.

Feeling as though their victory had been stolen from them, everyone turned back towards the stairs. Everyone except Tharos. For several long moments he stood, staring at where Nihlathak had vanished. Finally, Oksana walked back and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is Nihlathak’s threat bothering you?” she asked, worried.

Tharos shook his head, his face the color of ashes. “That wasn’t a threat,” he whispered. “That was prophecy.” He met her eyes, sadness clear in them. “We’re all doomed.”

---

Half-heartedly, they traveled back through the catacombs to Anya’s portal, reappearing in Harrogath shortly before sundown. Fighting against the harsh winter winds, they moved around to the front of Anya’s house. After several minutes of banging against the door, the surprised girl opened it, and the heroes piled inside.

“Nihlathak is dead,” Ron Bars said simply. “No body though, something with the demonic magic he had destroyed his body.” Anya looked angry, and moved slowly to lead them to the main room of the house.

They sat in chairs and on the floor, Rupert lighting a fire while Anya reclined on the couch. “What happened exactly?”

They took turns describing the halls of the dead, finally finishing with Nihlathak’s explosive, and somewhat unsatisfying, end. But Tharos shivered again. “The last thing he said, it was prophecy,” he emphasized. “I don’t understand it, but we will see Nihlathak again. And something is going to stop us from defeating Baal.”

Ahnold laughed, banging a fist against his armored chest. “He is just a demon. If Nihlathak had not betrayed us, the warriors of Harrogath would have finished him already.”

Anya shook her head. “Baal has always been the most powerful of the Prime Evils, just as Tyrael has always been the most powerful of the angels. If he really gave Nihlathak that kind of power, there must have been a plan behind it.” She chewed on her lip.

Erris shrugged. “Ok, so maybe we won’t have an easy time against Baal. But we can’t sit back here in Harrogath and just let him win! Even if he is controlling Tal Rasha, we were chosen by somebody to fight this battle.”

Emboldened by her words, the heroes shared smiles and other words of encouragement. Anya then snapped her fingers, rising to her feet. “I just remembered something that might help. My father used to keep a collection of weapons used by certain members of the tribes who had passed on in old age. Most of them carry powerful enchantments.” She smiled. “If you give me until tomorrow morning, I can even mark them with your names. True weapons for such successful heroes.”

With cries of thanks, the heroes went back out into the forceful winds, fighting back to their temporary houses for the night. The next morning, they climbed out of windows to slog through the waist-deep snow, meeting again at Anya’s. She opened the door cheerily, recovering well from her wound.

“Here you are,” she said, passing out bow, scepter, axe, staff, katar, wand, and a set of metal finger-claws for Garou. “It’s not terribly fancy, but I think it should be more than enough.” The heroes admired their new weapons, quickly setting aside their old ones in favor. “Good luck getting past the Ancients.”

They hiked back to their original town portal, letting the golem clear an easier path through the snow. Some snow had slid through into the tunnels, forming a slippery pile of harder ice in the middle of the passage. Bold and ready to fight, they emerged out on the open plateau. Snowfall here had been thinner, and they could already see demon tracks in the early morning light.

Predatory smiles crossing their faces, the heroes set forth for the summit of the mountain.

---

After a long day of slaying demons, the heroes stood inside the last tunnel, looking up the ice-covered staircase at the waning afternoon sun. “This is it,” Ron Bars said quietly. “Now we face down three of the greatest warriors of my people.”

Side by side, the two barbarians climbed the stairs, blinking as they re-emerged into the sun. The stone platform was small, and surprisingly bare of snow. They could see the actual peak of the mountain, barely a hundred feet above them, and a barred gateway led back down into a different part of the mountain.

Gazing in awe at the three golden statues, they started to move forward. With a grating clang, the stairway behind them was suddenly blocked with barbed iron bars, and Rupert carefully tested them. “There’s no way back.”

Ahnold shook his head. “The Ancients, you cannot leave without defeating them. This is why the elders always brought along the relic.” He looked worried, re-adjusting his helmet. Again they started forward to the statues.

Ron Bars and Ahnold waited at the middle of the stone circle, standing next to the carved pedestal, allowing the others to examine the statues. At last, when everyone had gathered around them, the two barbarians turned to the pedestal. “As soon as we read this, they will come to life.” Gripping their weapons anew, they prepared.

The barbarians alternated, reading the carved symbols in the ancient barbarian tongue. When they finished, their voices echoed against the rock for a brief moment. As soon as it fell silent, the three statues roared, and charged. Or, at least, two of them did. Oksana had tied a rope around the legs of the third statue, which had been holding a massive halberd.

The fight was long against the first two, but as they defeated the statues, they simply vanished, to return to solidity where they had stood before. Carefully, they gathered around the third statue, who sat in the snow, fuming with the ropes. Angrily, he looked up at the group. “You do not fight fair.”

Garou snorted. “Hey, we’re not the ones who let Baal walk past into the Worldstone chamber.”

His eyes widened in surprise, then dimmed with shame. “Do you speak the truth, warrior of the trees?” Everyone nodded, and he lowered his head in shame. “Then even the greatest of our peoples could not stop Uileloscadh Mór,” he lamented. “The end of the world is upon us!”

Ron Bars shook his head definitively. “There may still be time, honored Korlic. If you will let us through into the Worldstone, perhaps we can stop Baal before he unleashed his plan.”

Korlic sprang to his feet, almost overbalancing due to his tied ankles. “Strike me down, warrior of the wolves, and the gate shall be opened! I do not think Baal can be that far ahead of you.” He stood proudly, halberd at attention in one hand, smiling as the axe dealt the wicked blow.

As he returned to statue form, both gates opened, ratcheting back into place in the mountain. The heroes raced down, back into the bowels of the mountain.

---

The passages down to the Worldstone chamber were all carved stone and tile floors, the mosaics simple shapes that seemed to make no sense to the heroes. The passages were all filled with demons, mostly the constant undead and flocks of cursing harpies.

A few floors down, they stopped on the other side of a bridge for a quick breather. Looking at the floor, Rupert grunted. “Those parts almost look like torch holders,” he said, pointing to a pair of depressions in the floor.

Jezebel stepped over, and examined the mosaic design. “Yes, they do. I wonder what they’re for?”

Garou shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ve seen these things everywhere. In the Sisterhood monastery, the desert of Lut Gholein, the jungles of Kurast, even one on the river of flame in Hell. I think there’s one in the middle of Harrogath.”

Tharos snapped his fingers. “Hey, I think these are waypoints. I’ve heard about those.”

Erris rubbed the toe of her greaves in one of them. “What are they used for?”

Jezebel nodded too. “Yes, I remember now. If you activate a waypoint, then you can travel there from any other waypoints.”

Everyone looked at her in half anger. “Do you mean,” Rupert said ominously, “that we could have been using these for transportation, instead of camping out and having to spend hundreds of gold on portal scrolls?”

She looked embarrassed. “Well, yeah. They were barely mentioned by my mentor.”

Ron Bars smacked his forehead with a hand. “Let’s forget it, and keep going after Baal.”

Feeling frustrated, the heroes trudged back into the maze of corridors, looking for the next staircase down.

---

They emerged on the bottom floor, red stone all around them remarkably unmarked. The two barbarians led the way to a great hall, where Baal waited at the far end, sitting on a pedestal in front of a carved archway. “So, mortals, you managed to get this far. I have a little … entertainment for you.”

With a wave of his arm, shimmering lights danced in the middle of the hall, and a dozen Fallen shamans appeared. In less than a minute, all of them lay dead. Rupert tapped his scepter against the floor to clean the blood off. “That’s it?”

With a roar, Baal summoned another group, this one of mummies. Again, the heroes smashed through their adversaries like paper. The third and fourth waves were just as easily dealt with. As the heroes started forward again, Baal grinned. “Lister!” the great demon shouted.

From the other passageways outside the hall came a great pounding of feet. A half dozen demons, looking like giant, corrupted lizards, came strutting into the hallway. The lead one raised his head into the air, sniffing, before orienting towards the heroes. Tharos muttered a curse, stepping behind his golem.

All of the lizards roared, shaking the entire hall, before charging. All of the heroes, except Ahnold, scattered. The barbarian grounded his feet, holding up his great sword like a lance. Lister swerved to avoid him, but one of the others lunged at the barbarian, mouth open wide to swallow him. It got the sword first, the blade breaking out the back of the lizard’s skull.

But the death throes of the demon chewed the barbarian in half, and Lister’s minions circled around him to face the heroes, at the other end of the hall. Oksana and Erris worked furiously at something, while Tharos’ skeletons fired ineffective shots of flame at the lizards.

With another roar, they charged again. The golem stayed in place, getting kicked by a lizard and sticking in place, shredding the demon’s foot. Erris fired two arrows at the last moment, sticking them into different demons. The heroes scattered again, racing back around to the other side of the hall.

At Oksana’s urging, they moved towards the corner, leaving one of the pillars between them and Lister’s demons. They spread out, and waited for the demons to charge. “This time,” she urged, “aim for their legs. Bring them down, and we can kill them more easily.”

Roaring again, they charged. As two demons passed on either side of the first pillar, they squawked in outrage. The two arrows had been tied with a rope, and they whipped around the pillar, crashing into each other. A third demon, with the iron golem still wrapped around its leg, tripped over them, slamming into the floor.

Lister and one minion continued the charge. Ron Bars gave a warcry, charging towards the demon as well. At the last moment, he dropped to the floor, sliding past the demon and letting go of his axes. Both of them thudded into Lister’s knee as the barbarian went right under his foot.

Garou leaped upon Lister as he fell to the ground, raking open his neck with his new iron claws. Dogmeat snarled, charging in to nip at his flanks. The other minion pulled up short, sprouting a dozen arrows in his chest. As the other demons tried to escape their rope, fire walls popped into place around them.

Before too long, the demons had all fallen. Garou stood back, looking at Lister’s horned head. “Once we kill Baal, I’m having that thing stuffed and mounted.” Ron Bars chuckled, tearing his axes free of the demon’s leg.

“Look, Baal’s gone!” Rupert said, pointing with his scepter. Sure enough, the Lord of Destruction had taken the opportunity to duck back into the Worldstone chamber. “Quickly, we can’t give him any more time!”

Grimly, they charged up onto the platform, ducking through the archway into the Worldstone chamber for the final confrontation.

---

They emerged on the side of the Worldstone chamber. Baal stood in the center, on an outcrop of rock, facing the giant, glowing, Worldstone. The seven warriors spread out, Dogmeat and the golem on either end. “Well, you are tougher than I gave you credit for,” Baal said, his voice echoing strangely around the room.

In the center of the group, Ron Bars stepped forward. “It’s time for you to go back to hell, Baal!”

The demon started laughing, quietly at first, until the entire chamber shook with the sound of his voice. “Silly, pathetic mortal. Weren’t you listening to what Nihlathak told you? You’ve already been betrayed!”

Ron Bars opened his mouth to speak, when he was suddenly struck from behind. With a shout of surprise, he tumbled over the side of the walkway. One axe, his name carved into the handle, went spinning through the air to land harmlessly at Baal’s feet. The others all turned in anger, to see Anya slowly retreating, smirking.

“Surely you didn’t think I would pass up this opportunity for true power?” she said, before suddenly portalling out. Baal laughed, leaping over the chasm to attack them.

The heroes fought valiantly, but they died one by one. First Jezebel was grabbed by Baal, tearing her head off. Erris was entangled with tentacles, helpless as Baal froze her into an ice statue. Rupert was struck, flying across the room to hit a column, head first. Oksana died in a fireball, as it detonated all of her traps at once.

Tharos stood at the back of the room, biting his lip in pain as he held his wand with a burned hand. He could actually see the bones through the back of his hand, but he still controlled his golem, fighting to hold Baal still as Garou tore into the demon. Dogmeat yelped briefly, before being crushed underfoot. Garou howled in anger, ripping a furrow along the side of Baal’s face.

Suddenly, Tharos felt a sharp stab of pain in his side. Gasping, he fell back against the wall, and turned his head to see Anya standing there. She twisted the demon-hilted dagger, before pulling it out and wiping the blood on his shirt. “Nothing personal,” she said, mockingly.

He fell back against the wall. With his control over the golem slipping, Baal grabbed the druid, ripping him in half.

Triumphant, Baal stood on the same platform, looking over the broken, bloody bodies of the heroes. “Well, now that this little part has been taken care of,” he said smiling. Anya smiled as well, walking towards her new master. To her surprise, Baal grabbed her, talons shredding her abdomen apart. “I have no more use for you, and better things to do than control your mind.” The life faded from her eyes before he tossed her corpse into the chasm again.

Baal gave another great laugh, surveying the room one last time. The axe blade suddenly slammed into the back of his head, embedding itself up to the handle. Baal jerked in pain, his legs collapsing. Ron Bars grunted, pulling himself up from the edge of the chasm.

He looked around the room in grief, slowly striding over to the fallen body, changing back to the human corpse of Tal Rasha. Grasping the handle of his unlabeled weapon, he yanked, tearing the entire head free. He slammed the axe against the stone floor, splattering blood and flesh everywhere.

Ron Bars turned, looking in grief at the Worldstone. Pulsing against the redness was a spot of blackness, where Baal had already started corrupting the Worldstone. He looked down at his axe, then back at the Worldstone.

With a roar, he launched himself across the chasm towards the Worldstone. As he brought the weapon down, he heard Tyrael behind him shout, “No!”

Then the axe struck the magical rock. There was a bright flash, and the world disappeared.

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Epilogue

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