Rumlow elbowed Kaecilius, grinning. "Ha! You're famous, brother."
"Shut up, unless you want to feel a forehead tempered by the Ancestor Kanuk!" Kaecilius snapped. His jaw still throbbed at the mere mention of hardtack. It was a Pavlovian response at this point.
"Johanna," Bul-Kathos said, standing in the center of the crowd. "I said it before, but I'll say it again. Welcome back."
"Welcome back!" the other Ancestors echoed.
"Perfect," Auntie Mala said with a gentle smile. "Let's call our new festival 'The Reunion.' A reunion with the glory of our ancestors, and a reunion with our comrades."
"Reunion Festival it is," Vorusk grunted, stroking his beard.
Barbarian festivals were simple affairs. Men who spent their lives in battle had no patience for complexity. If there was food, drink, and a lack of immediate dying, it was a good time.
In Lazruk's forge, Bul-Kathos was hammering away at a shield—Johanna's gear. She sat nearby in simple clothes, listening as Bul-Kathos and Vorusk discussed the recent events.
"So," Vorusk said, picking his teeth. "You delivered Izual back to Heaven, lost a legendary weapon, and shoved Leoric into an abyss where he gets beaten up for eternity?"
Vorusk didn't like losing. If someone told him that "losing is a blessing," he'd curse them with enough "blessings" to fill an ocean.
"We need to accelerate," Bul-Kathos said, striking the final blow on the Crusader shield before beginning to polish it with a coarse iron block.
Normally, repairing gear was instant—you just melted a few thousand gold coins and poured the magical liquid over the item. Gold dropped by demons carried a strange energy that Sanctuary's smiths used for quick fixes. But Bul-Kathos preferred the old way—hammering the metal back into shape by hand. He claimed it maintained the soul of the equipment better.
"Accelerate? Easier said than done," Vorusk said, sitting on the floor. "You confirmed Diablo is returning. We don't even know where Belial is. What's the plan?"
Vorusk wasn't worried about being outnumbered. If push came to shove, he'd just drain the Holy Mountain's core and let the Ancestors swarm out for one final, glorious slaughter. It would leave the mountain weakened for a decade, but it would buy them ten years of peace from Hell and Heaven alike. None of the named Ancestors could be killed by mere numbers. Without an equal to stall them, numbers were irrelevant to a Barbarian.
"We need to train strong warriors quickly, or our battles will cause collateral damage to this world," Bul-Kathos said.
Vorusk snorted. "You think I care about that? Protecting the weak while fighting evil is a death sentence. I protect my kin. That's it."
"Then what? Open the Rifts to everyone? Spend all our time cleaning up the mess when people use that power for evil?" Vorusk's voice was full of disdain. Barbarians were generous, but they weren't suckers.
"Numbers don't matter if they can't stand before a Demon Lord without being crushed. We need to find the ones worth training. Give them better conditions. Weapons that don't break the world balance." Bul-Kathos paused, his hammer slipping and leaving a small scratch on the shield. He frowned and carefully hammered it out. "What if we turn some of this world's existing powerhouses into Nephalem? Give them a higher ceiling?"
Vorusk looked at him like he was an idiot. "You think a 'powerhouse' is just going to switch paths? Everyone who is strong is, by definition, stubborn."
"I know. But the strong of this world are capped by a 'lock' on their power. They might need this opportunity."
"I heard you know someone perfect for the Crusaders?" Johanna interrupted, her curiosity piqued. Bul-Kathos rarely praised anyone.
"He's a bit older than you. But his character... it's a perfect match for the Zakarum faith." Bul-Kathos finished the shield and looked up. "Steve Rogers. He was chosen by the Ring of Justice."
He watched Johanna's reaction carefully. He had asked Tyrael for that legendary ring before, but even for Johanna, the angels hadn't relented. Now that it had chosen someone else, he worried she might feel slighted.
"Then he really is a fit," Johanna said, standing up and taking the shield. She swung it a few times. "How do you plan to turn him? Just so we're clear, I'm not giving my blood to a stranger."
"You still have the authority to open the Temple of the Brave Rift, don't you?" Bul-Kathos asked.
"Mmm-hmm. But Malthael 'cleaned' that place out. I'm not sure how to open it anymore," she teased.
"Alright, what do you want?" Bul-Kathos sighed. He had watched Johanna grow up; he knew when she was fishing for a favor. Dealing with kids was easy, but dealing with kids who grew up into clever adults was a headache.
"Forge me a ring," Johanna said casually. "The one I have was made by Shen, but I trust your handiwork more."
Bul-Kathos nodded. Covetous Shen was a master of jewelry, but he wasn't going to argue. Every adventurer wanted the best gear possible.
"What? You look like you're regretting it already," Johanna joked, pulling out her Pig Sticker hilt to clean her fingernails with the tiny bit of blade left.
Vorusk dug a bottle of booze out from under the floorboards and started chugging. "Weren't we talking about 'accelerating'? Why are we talking about blacksmithing now? Can we train Crusaders en masse?"
"Not easily," Johanna said. "We could probably churn out some people like Kormac, but their will is the question. The Templars had plenty of corruption in their ranks."
"We'll try it," Bul-Kathos said, settting his jaw. "If we have to, we'll borrow Talic's Proof of Shame and put it in the middle of the training ground. Let them feel the weight of it every day."
Borrowing an Ancestor's weapon was no small thing. These weapons were extensions of their souls.
"One trouble after another," Vorusk muttered. He dug out a second bottle, took one sip, and froze. His face turned a strange shade of green. "I... have to go. Talk later."
He scrambled up and bolted out of the forge. Moments later, the sound of Lazruk's screaming and the dull thud of a fist hitting a face echoed from outside.
"What happened?" Johanna asked.
Bul-Kathos looked embarrassed. "Vorusk dug up one of Lazruk's experiments. Lazruk tried to learn brewing from me a while back. He used... 'parts' from a Fallen Shaman to ferment a batch. I think we all forgot where he buried that bottle."
He paused. "Looks like Vorusk found it. And since he's a thief who just got caught, he's probably hitting Lazruk to hide his shame."
Johanna's expression turned grim. She knew Bul-Kathos used demon blood for ale, but he used high-end stuff like Diablo's essence.
Fallen Shaman brew...
"It seems," Johanna whispered, "there are still some horrors on Harrogath even I wasn't prepared for."
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