kapuchuRealized Fenn's former theme song was blocked from youtube. Changed it with something else.
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@Zarkun It's a mystery.
The passage back through the tunnels was silent, the Shapeshifter lost to her own thoughts and the large Hellhound back on their trail, leading them back down the path that had led them to that cavern. Were it not for the urgency in their pace and the rumbling behind them, one would think the two had not in fact witnessed the destruction of the second Seal of Armageddon. Fortunately, whatever load the second seal had been bearing in the cavern only seemed to extend as far as the immediately adjacent tunnels. It was not long before the only signs of collapse was the occasional echo of crashing stone.
Fenn could not help but retrace through the events leading up to it in his mind. He had watched the battle between Hell’s recruiter and the interlopers with only passing interest, making notes of fighting styles and potential threats to himself out of habit – it was another harsh truth that the large demon could not remember the last time he had met another being without silently contemplating the best manner of ending their lives – but the encounter in an of itself was a sore sight.
He had come to believe not a single one of all the individuals involved in the initial skirmish had been seeking to destroy the seal. Even before considering the reasons why it would make sense for humans, demons, half-demons, and other parties would want to protect the seal, there was was simple fact Fenn had observed throughout the confrontation. All of their attention had been focused on each other, rather than the cairn behind them. And so the conflict came from foolhardy pride on the side of the Demon King’s aide, and bumbling ignorance from the interlopers. Two sides of the same coin, both wishing for the same thing, yet both snarling at each other across the empty expanse.
It would have been entertaining had it not been so profoundly stupid.
The enemy had said as much when he finally showed himself. The seal had been destroyed, but now they had a target. Not that Fenn knew who the snake was, nor where he had come from. Concealment of some kind was a likely explanation. He had made his way into the room, perhaps during the fight, perhaps before all of them, if he lacked the means of destroying the seal by himself, and then waited. The half-demon’s weapon had given him his opportunity. Something powerful enough to cut-off that wellspring of power with a lazy slash.
But then the enemy had disappeared, leaving them with no trail to follow.
Though perhaps that was not strictly true. “It feels so, sooo good to get some power back..." the snake’s words echoed in his head, something his sharp ears had picked even from the other side of the cavern.
There was an implication there, about power once possessed, but then lost. This idea was key, Fenn decided. An old player returned, seeking to reassert his presence? But who fit that profile, and how would knowing that help them reach him?
They passed through Buer’s room on their way out, but neither did the scholar open his eyes in response to their presence, nor did Lily acknowledge his existence, simply walking past the demon and through the torn wall as though it were simply another hallway. Fenn hesitated ever so slightly before following. The scholar was an option. Even bound as he was, he seemed to know more than anyone else involved in these matters. Even if he could not direct them towards the snake, he may be able to offer some insight as to the location of the next seal.
Fenn grimaced under the low light of his flames. Part of him found the idea of relying on the chimera repellent. They had already refused Buer his freedom once, and going back on that decision simply because the situation had changed stung at his pride. However, if the two of them were to protect the seals, a plan of action was needed.
He had come fully prepared to sacrifice this seal for the purpose of identifying the assailant, but he had expected more to come out of it. Or perhaps he had not.
Slow laughter escaped him.
This finally brought Lily out from her reverie. She wheeled around. “What’s so funny?”
“I was contemplating,” Fenn said as he came to a halt, “that never before have I been so pleased by failure.”
“Shut up,” she nearly hissed, settling for a very dissatisfied grumble instead. Her face looked more like a dark and stormy sky, ready to send down forks of lightning at whatever displeased it, or, in this case, her. “If you knew who that was, you wouldn’t be happy. I can’t tell you his name, but he was there two thousand years ago. And he’s the third most powerful Demon I know of. He’s leagues above either of us.”
Fenn’s sneer grew. Confirmation. She must not know him as well as she boasted, for the news made him very happy indeed. “Do you falter in the face of your enemy, Imp?”
“Falter?” She huffed, mock offended. “Hardly. I stood up against the brat Mundus, refused to follow in his steps. And Mundus is still more powerful than this one… He still should not be here, however.” She grimaced, arms crossing.
“I imagine. I hazard if you were to encounter him, you would find him far more within reach than you may expect.”
“He didn’t seem as powerful as he should, that much is true,” Lily replied, her grimace turning into a grim smile. “That being said, I have no intentions of giving up. There are yet five seals to go, and, despite everything, the humans have taught me something.” At this point she all but grinned, meeting Fenn’s eyes. Fenn recognised the defiant glint, having seen it before on several occasions. It was the look of someone who had set a goal, and refused to give up. “They taught me persistence. No matter the odds they never give up, nor do I have anything intentions of doing so. The seals will remain. So I have decided.” She turned on her heel, continuing down the tunnels, a swagger in her steps that had not been there before, betraying her steadily improving mood.
The dog rolled his eyes, following. “There is nothing inherently human about intransigence and pride, Imp.”
“You say that, yet I have never seen a demon stand up to someone or something so much more powerful than themselves, that they may have very well been a human in terms of power. You, of all puppies, should know that. Or have you forgotten that human you fought earlier? Hopelessly outmatched and yet he refused to simply run away.” She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “Surely that counts as a level of defiance known only to humans? Most demons I know are cowards, or reckless and unaware of danger like Hideous.”
“A case in favor of foolishness.” An idiocy that would not stand in most of the underworld. All who espoused it were dead, and for good reason. Fenn had buried many such foes himself. And how could he not remember? Most had been kin.
He snarled. It seemed that the lighter Lily’s mood turned, the darker his own became. “I would know of your plans, Imp.”
“Getting on your nerves is always such a simple task,” the demoness idly commented, then grew more serious. “As of right now, I have few plans. The closest to one would be to find the third seal through whatever means, and do what we can to protect it.” A look of revelation, almost as if she had an epiphany, appeared, a thoughtful look following. “Which means that we’d probably be best off allying with the humans of Gilgamesh or the Order of the Sword. I assume you’ve heard of them?”
He shrugged. All humans looked alike to him. He was not particularly interested in the powers of this world. That said, the shortcoming that finally brought low Hell’s recruiter was an inability or unwillingness to differentiate friend from foe. If they were going to put success before pride, expediency would take the reins by necessity.
“I will follow the trails,” he said, moving past her. “We may still reach those that gathered around the second seal.”
Lily offered a nod. “Lead the way.”
Fenn could not help but retrace through the events leading up to it in his mind. He had watched the battle between Hell’s recruiter and the interlopers with only passing interest, making notes of fighting styles and potential threats to himself out of habit – it was another harsh truth that the large demon could not remember the last time he had met another being without silently contemplating the best manner of ending their lives – but the encounter in an of itself was a sore sight.
He had come to believe not a single one of all the individuals involved in the initial skirmish had been seeking to destroy the seal. Even before considering the reasons why it would make sense for humans, demons, half-demons, and other parties would want to protect the seal, there was was simple fact Fenn had observed throughout the confrontation. All of their attention had been focused on each other, rather than the cairn behind them. And so the conflict came from foolhardy pride on the side of the Demon King’s aide, and bumbling ignorance from the interlopers. Two sides of the same coin, both wishing for the same thing, yet both snarling at each other across the empty expanse.
It would have been entertaining had it not been so profoundly stupid.
The enemy had said as much when he finally showed himself. The seal had been destroyed, but now they had a target. Not that Fenn knew who the snake was, nor where he had come from. Concealment of some kind was a likely explanation. He had made his way into the room, perhaps during the fight, perhaps before all of them, if he lacked the means of destroying the seal by himself, and then waited. The half-demon’s weapon had given him his opportunity. Something powerful enough to cut-off that wellspring of power with a lazy slash.
But then the enemy had disappeared, leaving them with no trail to follow.
Though perhaps that was not strictly true. “It feels so, sooo good to get some power back..." the snake’s words echoed in his head, something his sharp ears had picked even from the other side of the cavern.
There was an implication there, about power once possessed, but then lost. This idea was key, Fenn decided. An old player returned, seeking to reassert his presence? But who fit that profile, and how would knowing that help them reach him?
They passed through Buer’s room on their way out, but neither did the scholar open his eyes in response to their presence, nor did Lily acknowledge his existence, simply walking past the demon and through the torn wall as though it were simply another hallway. Fenn hesitated ever so slightly before following. The scholar was an option. Even bound as he was, he seemed to know more than anyone else involved in these matters. Even if he could not direct them towards the snake, he may be able to offer some insight as to the location of the next seal.
Fenn grimaced under the low light of his flames. Part of him found the idea of relying on the chimera repellent. They had already refused Buer his freedom once, and going back on that decision simply because the situation had changed stung at his pride. However, if the two of them were to protect the seals, a plan of action was needed.
He had come fully prepared to sacrifice this seal for the purpose of identifying the assailant, but he had expected more to come out of it. Or perhaps he had not.
Slow laughter escaped him.
This finally brought Lily out from her reverie. She wheeled around. “What’s so funny?”
“I was contemplating,” Fenn said as he came to a halt, “that never before have I been so pleased by failure.”
“Shut up,” she nearly hissed, settling for a very dissatisfied grumble instead. Her face looked more like a dark and stormy sky, ready to send down forks of lightning at whatever displeased it, or, in this case, her. “If you knew who that was, you wouldn’t be happy. I can’t tell you his name, but he was there two thousand years ago. And he’s the third most powerful Demon I know of. He’s leagues above either of us.”
Fenn’s sneer grew. Confirmation. She must not know him as well as she boasted, for the news made him very happy indeed. “Do you falter in the face of your enemy, Imp?”
“Falter?” She huffed, mock offended. “Hardly. I stood up against the brat Mundus, refused to follow in his steps. And Mundus is still more powerful than this one… He still should not be here, however.” She grimaced, arms crossing.
“I imagine. I hazard if you were to encounter him, you would find him far more within reach than you may expect.”
“He didn’t seem as powerful as he should, that much is true,” Lily replied, her grimace turning into a grim smile. “That being said, I have no intentions of giving up. There are yet five seals to go, and, despite everything, the humans have taught me something.” At this point she all but grinned, meeting Fenn’s eyes. Fenn recognised the defiant glint, having seen it before on several occasions. It was the look of someone who had set a goal, and refused to give up. “They taught me persistence. No matter the odds they never give up, nor do I have anything intentions of doing so. The seals will remain. So I have decided.” She turned on her heel, continuing down the tunnels, a swagger in her steps that had not been there before, betraying her steadily improving mood.
The dog rolled his eyes, following. “There is nothing inherently human about intransigence and pride, Imp.”
“You say that, yet I have never seen a demon stand up to someone or something so much more powerful than themselves, that they may have very well been a human in terms of power. You, of all puppies, should know that. Or have you forgotten that human you fought earlier? Hopelessly outmatched and yet he refused to simply run away.” She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “Surely that counts as a level of defiance known only to humans? Most demons I know are cowards, or reckless and unaware of danger like Hideous.”
“A case in favor of foolishness.” An idiocy that would not stand in most of the underworld. All who espoused it were dead, and for good reason. Fenn had buried many such foes himself. And how could he not remember? Most had been kin.
He snarled. It seemed that the lighter Lily’s mood turned, the darker his own became. “I would know of your plans, Imp.”
“Getting on your nerves is always such a simple task,” the demoness idly commented, then grew more serious. “As of right now, I have few plans. The closest to one would be to find the third seal through whatever means, and do what we can to protect it.” A look of revelation, almost as if she had an epiphany, appeared, a thoughtful look following. “Which means that we’d probably be best off allying with the humans of Gilgamesh or the Order of the Sword. I assume you’ve heard of them?”
He shrugged. All humans looked alike to him. He was not particularly interested in the powers of this world. That said, the shortcoming that finally brought low Hell’s recruiter was an inability or unwillingness to differentiate friend from foe. If they were going to put success before pride, expediency would take the reins by necessity.
“I will follow the trails,” he said, moving past her. “We may still reach those that gathered around the second seal.”
Lily offered a nod. “Lead the way.”
Metaphor did not translate, I guess.
Fenn saw as Buer’s features drew themselves inward in frustration, and then relaxed into an impassive expression. The chimera’s four eyes closed, and Fenn knew their exchange was over.
He followed after the now raven haired demoness through the room’s opposite door in much the same way as he had the through the first. Fenn sidled up to Lily’s side in silence, continuing to lead them through the tunnels.
An odd pressure seemed to fill the tunnels’ air as they went deeper, something he knew Lily could feel as well. Trailing Gomory’s scent to find their way quickly became a formality, and soon enough, clearly unnecessary. The path before them was a rubble-streaked ruin, with walls riddled with holes, exposing the packed earth behind them, and shattered bricks lying on the ground by the score. The dust had not completely settled, some motes still flittering in the light. Shadows and greenish wisps of light seemed to shiver at the corner of their eyes as they advanced in silence, the one who had come before them having cleared the path of defenders. What little remained of these merely studied their approach.
Lily, all the while, was not in the greatest of moods. More than once she had hit the wall hard enough to crack the stone. It was at a point where they had just passed a comparatively large group of these wisps that she exhaled, closing her eyes. “So, apocalypse,” she began somewhat awkwardly, never looking at Fenn. “What do you intend to do?”
“You have known me for long enough, Imp.” The answer came readily, mid-stride, as if he had been expecting the question. “I am an old warrior, and Armageddon is to be the greatest war ever to be witnessed. What else would I intend to do but participate?”
“I’ve known you long enough to also know that you continuously seek battles, and that you’re not stupid either. While Armageddon itself may be the greatest war to ever come to pass, it will be the last one.” She gave him a solemn look. “You do realize that if you even survive, the rest of your life will be spent in a wasteland with nothing but yourself for company.”
The dog paused in his march, turning to face her. This needed to be addressed then, he understood, and not another step would be taken until it was settled. “You seem to believe that more than Earth shall be lost to this war, as it must, for it is the chosen battlefield. Yet even if all that remained were ashes and dust and scattered survivors, I do not doubt,” he told her, “that conflict would arise among them as readily as were it a living world. And even were it not so, the perpetuation of violence is not what draws me to this.”
Lily stopped as well, facing him. “Be that as it may,” she replied, clasping her hands together behind her back, “I will admit to not wishing the apocalypse.” She gave him a wry smile at this. “Strange, isn’t it? An age old demoness who does not wish for the apocalypse to happen? But it’s not that I’ve become soft. Quite the opposite. You know me better than any other being in this world, so tell me, what is it I do?”
Fenn grunted, irritated. The humans. She wanted them alive. “Your fascination with these vermin baffles me.”
She met his irritated grunt with a strangely jovial smile. She wasn’t annoyed or angry anymore, at least. “You’d be surprised by what they can do. They are so small compared to us, but they still persevere, and they are so diverse, too. They can be as cruel as even Hell’s own inquisitors, or as benevolent as the kindest angel. To spark conflict, create bonds, sow seeds of dissent, and even watch as they huddle together to face an unknown threat. They’re… so unlike us, and yet so similar in many ways. How can I not be interested?” She giggled—an act so very unlike her, yet still strangely fitting.
“You would oppose Armageddon.” Fenn said. A statement, rather than a question.
“Yes. Things would be rather dull without humanity.”
“What baffles more, is that our paths could be so similar, yet our reasoning so different.”
Fenn closed his eyes. There, he saw a hint of a darkness once visited upon him. For a long time there was little but darkness and chains, punctuated only by blood and pain, though the latter was rarely just his. Moments of release. But when light truly returned and the bonds were loosened, the blood was ancient beyond imagining, and like a blind man who saw for the first time he stumbled back, confused by most of what he saw and finding little beauty in what he understood. But the dog was hardly blind, and some kind of comprehension had to follow. There was a way to things, he believed. To everything.
“If you must, then there are only two ways this can be settled,” he intoned. “We could face each other, here and now. Whoever lives after this encounter shall be in the right, and may pursue their goal. Or…”
Lily blinked, her eyes turning a deep violet. Her smile, too, became somewhat conspiratorial. “I could give you a proposition, that you may fight for me.”
“Has the scholar’s rejection burned you so deeply that you would seek to wrest a vow from me now?” The demon sneered, but there was little humor to be found in his eyes. “Aye, but it is not enough that a battle may be promised.” Fenn shook his head slowly. “I am old for my kind, Imp. There are few survivors from the chaos we are drawn to. The apocalypse will come. Do not doubt this, as the seals need only be broken once. But I do not believe I will survive to see it come to fruition if it does not come to pass here and now. It is no longer enough that you gift me your enemies, for by following you, I will have been robbed of mine.”
“If my enemies will not satisfy you, then how about something never before given? Something that no other living creature can boast to have?” Like Fenn, Lily’s tone was grave, though still with hints of her jovial personality. She shook her head. “I have no intentions of wrestling a vow from you. Rather, I would give one myself. I have lived my millennia long life independent of any faction, of any group, but none can boast to have a debt lying with me. That is what I offer you, Chained Hound. That I will be in your debt, so long as you agree to be by my side in this endeavor.”
The demoness spoke true. Nothing else she could offer would have swayed him, and, he suspected, she had little else to offer. There was a way to things. To them as well. He would not have spoken so before her had he not had a measure of trust in her. Neither would he have closed his eyes, left himself open for her. No hidden blades for them. Between them, the sword would be in plain sight.
“So it shall be. May your worth be judged by the might of your foes, and the truth of your words. Know this, however. Should I ever call upon this debt and be refused, I will not hesitate to settle it with blood.”
Judging by the lack of visible change in her expression or posture, the threat did not faze her. “I have never lied to you. To do so now would be to invite misfortune.”
“Good.” Fenn nodded, steeling himself for what was to come. There was something weary in his tone, as if the conversation had tired him. The dog knew very well that it was not exhaustion, but resignation that filled him. “Then I suggest we move. We have wasted enough time on this debate.”
The matter settled, the pair continued moving along the tunnels, following the path of destruction that hell’s recruiter had left in her wake.
It turned out their debate was not taking place too far from the entrance to the large cavern were even then the players were gathering. Fenn grimaced, letting his flames become extinguished as he glanced into the cavern. There was enough light being emitted from the platform suspended at the center of the cavern, both the source of the odd pressure he had been feeling since leaving Buer’s room, and likely the repository of the second seal. He saw the demoness in pink standing on the platform, as well as several humans beginning their approach.
“What would you have us do?” He asked the Imp – thinking of her as anything resembling a commander was proving difficult – as he studied the spectacle.
“For now,” she said, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth, “nothing. I still do not entirely trust Buer’s words, and I would rather not make myself a target by all the Hunters.” While she seemed relaxed, it did not take a genius to notice that her posture was not one of someone simply watching, but someone preparing. She looked ready to act at any second.
A shout suddenly echoed throughout the massive chamber, her head snapping towards it, eyes immediately narrowed and body tense. All of that evaporated quickly, however, a look of mortification replacing it. “Oh for the love of…” An old human had, for whatever incredulous reason, decided to shout and insult Gomory, and as if that wasn’t enough a Cyborg, by the looks of it, was charging her at the same time, evidently hoping that the shout had distracted her. “Idiots,” she muttered, drawing a hand across her face. “And here I thought only mindless beasts were stupid enough to run to their death like that.”
“Save the judgement for later,” Fenn grumbled. “If the humans are here to prevent the apocalypse, they have jumped to the same conclusion we had. Observe. If you wish to protect the seals, we must ascertain who wishes to destroy them first.”
“I agree. Let us not be hasty. Gomory is powerful, that much I can sense just from looking at her. A few humans should be no match for her.” She pursed her lips, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “So now… we wait.”
He followed after the now raven haired demoness through the room’s opposite door in much the same way as he had the through the first. Fenn sidled up to Lily’s side in silence, continuing to lead them through the tunnels.
An odd pressure seemed to fill the tunnels’ air as they went deeper, something he knew Lily could feel as well. Trailing Gomory’s scent to find their way quickly became a formality, and soon enough, clearly unnecessary. The path before them was a rubble-streaked ruin, with walls riddled with holes, exposing the packed earth behind them, and shattered bricks lying on the ground by the score. The dust had not completely settled, some motes still flittering in the light. Shadows and greenish wisps of light seemed to shiver at the corner of their eyes as they advanced in silence, the one who had come before them having cleared the path of defenders. What little remained of these merely studied their approach.
Lily, all the while, was not in the greatest of moods. More than once she had hit the wall hard enough to crack the stone. It was at a point where they had just passed a comparatively large group of these wisps that she exhaled, closing her eyes. “So, apocalypse,” she began somewhat awkwardly, never looking at Fenn. “What do you intend to do?”
“You have known me for long enough, Imp.” The answer came readily, mid-stride, as if he had been expecting the question. “I am an old warrior, and Armageddon is to be the greatest war ever to be witnessed. What else would I intend to do but participate?”
“I’ve known you long enough to also know that you continuously seek battles, and that you’re not stupid either. While Armageddon itself may be the greatest war to ever come to pass, it will be the last one.” She gave him a solemn look. “You do realize that if you even survive, the rest of your life will be spent in a wasteland with nothing but yourself for company.”
The dog paused in his march, turning to face her. This needed to be addressed then, he understood, and not another step would be taken until it was settled. “You seem to believe that more than Earth shall be lost to this war, as it must, for it is the chosen battlefield. Yet even if all that remained were ashes and dust and scattered survivors, I do not doubt,” he told her, “that conflict would arise among them as readily as were it a living world. And even were it not so, the perpetuation of violence is not what draws me to this.”
Lily stopped as well, facing him. “Be that as it may,” she replied, clasping her hands together behind her back, “I will admit to not wishing the apocalypse.” She gave him a wry smile at this. “Strange, isn’t it? An age old demoness who does not wish for the apocalypse to happen? But it’s not that I’ve become soft. Quite the opposite. You know me better than any other being in this world, so tell me, what is it I do?”
Fenn grunted, irritated. The humans. She wanted them alive. “Your fascination with these vermin baffles me.”
She met his irritated grunt with a strangely jovial smile. She wasn’t annoyed or angry anymore, at least. “You’d be surprised by what they can do. They are so small compared to us, but they still persevere, and they are so diverse, too. They can be as cruel as even Hell’s own inquisitors, or as benevolent as the kindest angel. To spark conflict, create bonds, sow seeds of dissent, and even watch as they huddle together to face an unknown threat. They’re… so unlike us, and yet so similar in many ways. How can I not be interested?” She giggled—an act so very unlike her, yet still strangely fitting.
“You would oppose Armageddon.” Fenn said. A statement, rather than a question.
“Yes. Things would be rather dull without humanity.”
“What baffles more, is that our paths could be so similar, yet our reasoning so different.”
Fenn closed his eyes. There, he saw a hint of a darkness once visited upon him. For a long time there was little but darkness and chains, punctuated only by blood and pain, though the latter was rarely just his. Moments of release. But when light truly returned and the bonds were loosened, the blood was ancient beyond imagining, and like a blind man who saw for the first time he stumbled back, confused by most of what he saw and finding little beauty in what he understood. But the dog was hardly blind, and some kind of comprehension had to follow. There was a way to things, he believed. To everything.
“If you must, then there are only two ways this can be settled,” he intoned. “We could face each other, here and now. Whoever lives after this encounter shall be in the right, and may pursue their goal. Or…”
Lily blinked, her eyes turning a deep violet. Her smile, too, became somewhat conspiratorial. “I could give you a proposition, that you may fight for me.”
“Has the scholar’s rejection burned you so deeply that you would seek to wrest a vow from me now?” The demon sneered, but there was little humor to be found in his eyes. “Aye, but it is not enough that a battle may be promised.” Fenn shook his head slowly. “I am old for my kind, Imp. There are few survivors from the chaos we are drawn to. The apocalypse will come. Do not doubt this, as the seals need only be broken once. But I do not believe I will survive to see it come to fruition if it does not come to pass here and now. It is no longer enough that you gift me your enemies, for by following you, I will have been robbed of mine.”
“If my enemies will not satisfy you, then how about something never before given? Something that no other living creature can boast to have?” Like Fenn, Lily’s tone was grave, though still with hints of her jovial personality. She shook her head. “I have no intentions of wrestling a vow from you. Rather, I would give one myself. I have lived my millennia long life independent of any faction, of any group, but none can boast to have a debt lying with me. That is what I offer you, Chained Hound. That I will be in your debt, so long as you agree to be by my side in this endeavor.”
The demoness spoke true. Nothing else she could offer would have swayed him, and, he suspected, she had little else to offer. There was a way to things. To them as well. He would not have spoken so before her had he not had a measure of trust in her. Neither would he have closed his eyes, left himself open for her. No hidden blades for them. Between them, the sword would be in plain sight.
“So it shall be. May your worth be judged by the might of your foes, and the truth of your words. Know this, however. Should I ever call upon this debt and be refused, I will not hesitate to settle it with blood.”
Judging by the lack of visible change in her expression or posture, the threat did not faze her. “I have never lied to you. To do so now would be to invite misfortune.”
“Good.” Fenn nodded, steeling himself for what was to come. There was something weary in his tone, as if the conversation had tired him. The dog knew very well that it was not exhaustion, but resignation that filled him. “Then I suggest we move. We have wasted enough time on this debate.”
The matter settled, the pair continued moving along the tunnels, following the path of destruction that hell’s recruiter had left in her wake.
It turned out their debate was not taking place too far from the entrance to the large cavern were even then the players were gathering. Fenn grimaced, letting his flames become extinguished as he glanced into the cavern. There was enough light being emitted from the platform suspended at the center of the cavern, both the source of the odd pressure he had been feeling since leaving Buer’s room, and likely the repository of the second seal. He saw the demoness in pink standing on the platform, as well as several humans beginning their approach.
“What would you have us do?” He asked the Imp – thinking of her as anything resembling a commander was proving difficult – as he studied the spectacle.
“For now,” she said, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth, “nothing. I still do not entirely trust Buer’s words, and I would rather not make myself a target by all the Hunters.” While she seemed relaxed, it did not take a genius to notice that her posture was not one of someone simply watching, but someone preparing. She looked ready to act at any second.
A shout suddenly echoed throughout the massive chamber, her head snapping towards it, eyes immediately narrowed and body tense. All of that evaporated quickly, however, a look of mortification replacing it. “Oh for the love of…” An old human had, for whatever incredulous reason, decided to shout and insult Gomory, and as if that wasn’t enough a Cyborg, by the looks of it, was charging her at the same time, evidently hoping that the shout had distracted her. “Idiots,” she muttered, drawing a hand across her face. “And here I thought only mindless beasts were stupid enough to run to their death like that.”
“Save the judgement for later,” Fenn grumbled. “If the humans are here to prevent the apocalypse, they have jumped to the same conclusion we had. Observe. If you wish to protect the seals, we must ascertain who wishes to destroy them first.”
“I agree. Let us not be hasty. Gomory is powerful, that much I can sense just from looking at her. A few humans should be no match for her.” She pursed her lips, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “So now… we wait.”
Reverberations echoed through the tunnels behind the pair, tickling at the Hellhound’s ears. Fenn paused, raising his head above his shoulders, ears twitching.
“Why did we stop?” asked the demoness who had followed him into the tunnels.
“Explosions. The humans found resistance.”
“Up ahead?” she asked with a mischievous smile. “We could help these hunters. Kill the demons trailing them. It would be interesting. Imagine their faces once they realize they owed their lives to the enemy.”
The dog shook his head. It was not that the irony was lost on him, but in following the tracks, a small suspicion had begun to form. These humans had an odd scent to them. Even when their scent became more distinctive, easier to separate from the trail of the woman in pink and their entourage, there was something else to it. He did not believe there were half-bloods among them, but the scent was strange enough to make him doubt himself. Once they were set in their proper place on the stage, these humans may prove to be interesting players.
Fenn hesitated to interfere just yet. Not to mention there were more practical concerns as well.
“Would you have us turn back?” Fenn grunted as he resumed his march. “They veered off the trail some time ago. If they are after your woman in pink, they should have brought better trackers.”
“I wish you’d told me that earlier. I admit part of me was looking forward to meeting them.”
“I suspect there is little that they could offer us, beyond a hail of bullets.”
Lily shrugged. “Perhaps, but it might be more interesting than meeting this demon ahead. We cross paths with enough power hungry Demon Lords in our trade, and they always sing the same tune.”
Fenn grunted. Wasn’t that telling, that the stronger players ever seemed to play the same role. A comment on the nature of power, perhaps. To flex one’s power was to enact tyranny, and tyranny ever invited conflict. Not because the use of power was inherently wrong, but because it acted as a presence. An occupation of space that demanded a response from other powers, and this was something he held to be true in every realm. The world turned to face you. Many desired such a thing.
He had never shared his companion’s interest in humanity, nor did he wish to. That they espoused virtues one would rarely if ever see in the underworld was not borne of any particular enlightenment of the spirit, but was a product of a short, fragile existence. Being so fragile, confrontation was undesirable for the damage it wrought, and safety was best ensured in groups. From groups, civilization. A survival trait at best, one so inextricably woven into their society that it was nigh impossible to separate from moral context. When conflict came, however – and oh did it come – it was not any less ugly or petty than had it been a demon or angel partaking in it. So what could a group of soldiers say to the two demons that they had not heard before?
“I suspect we have not seen the last of them,” he offered, nonetheless, “or others. We have yet to become aware of all the players.” He paused. “Behold. Shadows dance.”
As if burned by the demon’s regard, the darkness ahead shifted. A greenish tint moved in the corner of their eyes, and then the tunnel was still.
“Neither demon nor human, or even angelic,” Lily commented, glancing behind them. “They’re gone.”
“We must be close.”
“To demon hunters or to demon lady?”
The Hellhound shrugged, a ponderous rolling of his shoulders. “I do not believe either came to these tunnels for the decor.”
Lily gave Fenn a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Never would’ve expected the grouchiest pup to make a joke,” she said, absentmindedly wringing some water out of her hair. “I digress. Which way do you think we should go?”
Pausing before a door, the demon said, “The trail leads in.”
Lily made the fit easily enough, even tall as she was. Turning around, she asked, “Will you find a different way in?”
Stone rumbled as as the large Hellhound pushed forward with little regard for the obstacle, knocking the door off its hinges along with part of the adjacent wall.
“Ah. Right.”
Fenn’s fire added to the illumination of old candles, glancing off the chalk markings lining the interior. The room was octogonal, something the demon suspected served some purpose on its own, and every etching faced the large altar settled in the middle of the room.
“Why did we stop?” asked the demoness who had followed him into the tunnels.
“Explosions. The humans found resistance.”
“Up ahead?” she asked with a mischievous smile. “We could help these hunters. Kill the demons trailing them. It would be interesting. Imagine their faces once they realize they owed their lives to the enemy.”
The dog shook his head. It was not that the irony was lost on him, but in following the tracks, a small suspicion had begun to form. These humans had an odd scent to them. Even when their scent became more distinctive, easier to separate from the trail of the woman in pink and their entourage, there was something else to it. He did not believe there were half-bloods among them, but the scent was strange enough to make him doubt himself. Once they were set in their proper place on the stage, these humans may prove to be interesting players.
Fenn hesitated to interfere just yet. Not to mention there were more practical concerns as well.
“Would you have us turn back?” Fenn grunted as he resumed his march. “They veered off the trail some time ago. If they are after your woman in pink, they should have brought better trackers.”
“I wish you’d told me that earlier. I admit part of me was looking forward to meeting them.”
“I suspect there is little that they could offer us, beyond a hail of bullets.”
Lily shrugged. “Perhaps, but it might be more interesting than meeting this demon ahead. We cross paths with enough power hungry Demon Lords in our trade, and they always sing the same tune.”
Fenn grunted. Wasn’t that telling, that the stronger players ever seemed to play the same role. A comment on the nature of power, perhaps. To flex one’s power was to enact tyranny, and tyranny ever invited conflict. Not because the use of power was inherently wrong, but because it acted as a presence. An occupation of space that demanded a response from other powers, and this was something he held to be true in every realm. The world turned to face you. Many desired such a thing.
He had never shared his companion’s interest in humanity, nor did he wish to. That they espoused virtues one would rarely if ever see in the underworld was not borne of any particular enlightenment of the spirit, but was a product of a short, fragile existence. Being so fragile, confrontation was undesirable for the damage it wrought, and safety was best ensured in groups. From groups, civilization. A survival trait at best, one so inextricably woven into their society that it was nigh impossible to separate from moral context. When conflict came, however – and oh did it come – it was not any less ugly or petty than had it been a demon or angel partaking in it. So what could a group of soldiers say to the two demons that they had not heard before?
“I suspect we have not seen the last of them,” he offered, nonetheless, “or others. We have yet to become aware of all the players.” He paused. “Behold. Shadows dance.”
As if burned by the demon’s regard, the darkness ahead shifted. A greenish tint moved in the corner of their eyes, and then the tunnel was still.
“Neither demon nor human, or even angelic,” Lily commented, glancing behind them. “They’re gone.”
“We must be close.”
“To demon hunters or to demon lady?”
The Hellhound shrugged, a ponderous rolling of his shoulders. “I do not believe either came to these tunnels for the decor.”
Lily gave Fenn a look somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Never would’ve expected the grouchiest pup to make a joke,” she said, absentmindedly wringing some water out of her hair. “I digress. Which way do you think we should go?”
Pausing before a door, the demon said, “The trail leads in.”
Lily made the fit easily enough, even tall as she was. Turning around, she asked, “Will you find a different way in?”
Stone rumbled as as the large Hellhound pushed forward with little regard for the obstacle, knocking the door off its hinges along with part of the adjacent wall.
“Ah. Right.”
Fenn’s fire added to the illumination of old candles, glancing off the chalk markings lining the interior. The room was octogonal, something the demon suspected served some purpose on its own, and every etching faced the large altar settled in the middle of the room.
@Lugubrious Kap's and my characters will soon be reaching Buer (making the assumption that the GO squad went a completely different way what with their ghostly benefactor). Would he have 'gone back to sleep' since Gomory left him?. Since people are starting to rush to the ruins at the end, could we do a little collab to get lines for him and then have the group move on, or should we keep conversation between them in a post by post basis?
By the way, note that Fenn is prioritizing Gomory's trail over Gilgamesh's. We just took the liberty of having Fenn and Lily come across the remains of the fight. If the Gilgamesh people end up going a completely different way than Gomory, Fenn and Lily will just ignore the former and go for the latter.
Under the bowels of Barlour, in one of the tunnels that comprised what remained of the ruins the city had been built under, a pile of rubble shook and shifted. A warm light peeked from within, illuminating pathways that had not seen activity in many a year, and grew in intensity as the creature within the mound began to claw itself out of its prison.
With a final heave, Fenn threw a slab of concrete out of the way and crawled out of the tomb of earth and stone that the collapse had dropped with him. Small fires ran through fur at the demon’s head and extremities, making shadows dance along the walls and giving off enough light to see by. Once out, he turned around and pulled, wrapping the chain around his arms as he freed it.
Now freed, he stood and turned to study his surroundings.
He himself had fallen into a large platform, wide and with a high ceiling, all made of stone. The end of the platform ended on a wide set of stairs leading up. Off to the sides, old rusted tracks tapered off into dark tunnels. The place had a musty smell to it, the air old and stale, and if he focused his attention, the sound of rushing water reached his ears from above. Likely carried in the pipe networks humans built under their cities.
Looking up behind him only offered a view of the crumbled stone, dirt and concrete. He would not be climbing up the way he fell.
The hunters were nowhere to be seen. If they had fallen with him, they were likely separated from him by the rubble, or buried under it. Good riddance if the latter was true.
Fenn grunted and climbed down to the base of the mound. He shook his body like a dog, letting earth and debris fall around him. Metallic, plinking noises alerted him of some of the metal projectiles the human had used on him falling out of his shallow wounds. The thought darkened his already sour mood. He had sustained many small wounds in the fight against the hunter, and yet he had little to show for it. His eyes settled on the puncture wound gazing up at him from his massive wrist. The pain meant little. It was only the latest in a long line of injuries the old Hellhound had suffered throughout his life, an insignificant one at that. The wound itself had already began to close, yet the demon’s pride would not be mended so easily.
Interrupted. The fight had been interrupted. The mere thought sent the flames along his fur into a frenzy.
He had been made to look like a fool. He should have killed the talkative one where he stood, and not even considered sparing the other one his flames. What point was there to testing them? The hunter simply lacked the tools to do him much harm.
Fenn could not help but wonder if he would have been staring at such an insignificant injury had that not been the case. At that point, it would have been a more satisfying outcome. He only had his pride to blame for this defeat.
The demon huffed, dropping to all fours. Perhaps he was growing complacent in his old age.
Putting the thoughts aside for the moment, the Hellhound plodded forward and up the stairs, letting the fire light his way as he moved out of the hall. Other tunnels greeted him as he reached the next level approach, and the demon’s nose twitched searching for any scents that would allow him to find an exit, but the same old, musty smell permeated each passageway. Some of these had old tracks among them, while others simply seemed to serve as passageways between them. For lack of a better course of action, he chose the closest hallway he could fit in and set down its path, nose twitching and ears swiveling as he went.
For several minutes, Fenn wandered aimlessly, his only concern that he should somehow loop back into his own trail, until a scent other than the smell of ruin and decay entered his nostrils.
There were other demons in this maze.
The Hellhound allowed his flames to extinguish and brought its muzzle low to the ground, sniffing at the trail. Fairly recent. At least two of them. There was another smell mixed in to the scent of the demons, but Fenn could not place it. It was foul, even to the Hellhound’s nose, but it made it easy to track.
Fenn set down on the trail, the old warrior’s imposing march replaced by the smooth, silent movement of a predator’s grace. It was not long before noise reached the dog’s sensitive ears. An odd clicking and clacking, like steel softly tapping against the stone floor echoed down the path. After a moment, it seemed to stop, replaced by a chittering noise with an odd inflexion that reminded Fenn of speech. By then, he had no need to follow their scent. The thin, gem-like bodies of the two Hideous glowed with its own inner light, radiated outwards with a pallid, purple hue.
The demons had stopped at the juncture of a T-shaped corridor, and were currently studying the two small passageways leading forward. Fenn grimaced in the darkness. They were both too small for him to follow through.
One of the demons let out another chittering sound before marching into its chosen tunnel, followed by its companion. Once the click-clack of the Hideous footsteps receded, Fenn sauntered into the small room, letting his flames return.
Another curious development. Those Hideous had behaved as though they were searching for something beneath this undercity. Were they looking for an exit, much as he was? Perhaps, but it seemed unlikely. They were moving with a hurried purpose, and that stench that clung to them like rot… those demons were owned. Something had sent them down here, but for what purpose?
He knew something was happening in this city. Power was being drawn to it, beyond the small demons that seemed to have made this city their home before his own arrival. Fenn himself had been summoned by a powerless dabbler, and still had been able to manifest himself in this realm in an undiluted form, something that would never have occurred had the veil been at its proper strength. Demons moved along the city with clear purpose, the scent of Heaven’s Host had occasionally tickled at his nose, and humans aware of the supernatural’s existence had been flocking to this city en masse. The air was tense with violence, but it had yet to be properly unleashed.
He clicked his tongue in irritation. It mattered little at the moment. He wanted to leave these tunnels, but the Hideous’ efforts had only managed to lead Fenn to another dead end.
He had almost left the tunnel when a soft breeze caressed his fur. Fenn turned around, staring at the wall, and caught sight of a small hole amidst the stone. Blue, sterile light filtered through the small opening, along with the smells of smoke and rain. And blood.
Fenn glanced over his shoulder, focusing his senses to make sure the Hideous had gone far enough. When silence was all he could hear from the tunnels, he gave the wall a rough shove. Cracks spread through the impact. A second blow crumbled the wall, letting Fenn walk out of the ruins and into a smooth, circular tunnel with metal tracks running down its length. Close by, Fenn could make out the electric light that tended to accompany human occupation in this era.
He moved up the tunnel and climbed up to the platform, carefully studying his surroundings. The stench of blood was stronger now, but there were no corpses to be seen. Humans must have fled the area already.
He found the nearest way up, two of those moving staircases humans called escalators, and awkwardly crawled up between them, him being too large to make use of them himself. Up the top, he found a barrier, seemingly designed to limit the people who walked down into the station. Fenn tore it out of the way with a small grunt of exertion.
It was there that he found the first casualties. Three humans lay dead, bodies torn by sharp teeth and claws. Two of them had been gunslingers, evidenced by the blue uniforms and small firearms near the bodies. The last one was too torn up to make out much of anything.
One of the culprits’ bodies lied still between them, body riddled with the gunslinger’s small projectiles. A small creature, by Fenn’s standards, the size of a large dog, its body an ugly mockery of Fenn’s own. Reptilian tail, thin hips and rear legs, with a larger torso and obscenely-muscled shoulders. Its maw was bloodied and full to the brim with gaping fangs.
Fenn’s eyes narrowed, now recognizing the smell of minor demons among the stench of death. Bloody footprints led ahead, in the direction pointed by the signs with the word ‘EXIT’ on them.
Naturally.
He forged ahead, after the trail of blood, and ignoring the shops and counters that littered the walls of the station, all either shuttered down or otherwise abandoned.
The sounds of gnashing teeth and tearing flesh announced the presence of the small demons even before he turned the corner. There, he saw large, wide stairs leading out to the city air. Before the exit, three Minions fought over the remains of a single human, barely recognizable as a male at that point. Mercifully dead, blood pooled below him, staining what Fenn assumed were his possessions. A blanket, a cup filled with the metal that humans used as a currency.
Propped against the wall, Fenn could spy a cardboard sign that read “PLEASE HELP”.
Laughter escaped the beast’s throat in a low rumble.
The Minions turned at the sudden noise, and scrambled back at the sight of the Hellhound with a string of surprised hisses. The sound quickly turned into angered snarls as they began to creep forward, seemingly intent in protecting their meal. As if Fenn was interested in carrion.
Pack hunters by nature, the Minions began to fan out as they approached Fenn. It was all instinct. The beasts were rabid and mindless, not easily cowed, and as such prime target for strong demons who sought fearless, expendable forces. Their name reflected that.
A shame Fenn did not much care for the mockeries.
As the monsters approached, the Hellhound took a deep breath, the spaces between his scales lighting from within with a warm light, and belched out a tongue of fire at the closest one.
A shrill whine escaped the thing’s lungs as the fire engulfed it, burning its skin and working its way into the minion’s mouth and insides. No sooner had the lance of flame devoured the first of their kin that the other two darted in.
The first one ducked low under the fire, snapping its jaws at Fenn’s exposed throat. The Hellhound closed his jaws and grabbed the Minion mid-leap, his powerful digits closing around the thing’s neck. Claws futilely scratched at the hardened scales of his arm before Fenn threw him to the side, into one of the shops surrounding the hallway. The beast crashed against a glass window, shattering it and falling somewhere within.
A weight settling on his back, near his neck, informed him of the position and intentions of the other Minion. Fenn slammed his palms against the ground, forcing himself upright in a sudden, explosive motion. Of course, the halls were not meant to house something three times the height of a normal human, and he felt his back crashing against the ceiling, crushing the smaller demon in the process. Reaching around his neck, Fenn grasped the disoriented Minion by the arm and slammed it to the ground, before bringing his arms down on it like hammers. After the confrontation with the Demon Hunters, the feeling of snapping bones was immensely satisfying.
A scuttling sound alerted him of movement and he glanced up to catch sight of the minion he had thrown against the glass sneaking away towards the stairs.
A snarl escaped Fenn’s throat as he launched himself after the small beast. Seeing its cover was blown the Minion erupted into a single-minded sprint up the stairs. It had barely reached the outside of the building when the Hellhound’s massive weight settled atop it, slamming the beast into the ground. Its limbs shook as it tried to struggle out of Fenn’s grip, but the demon’s fangs closed on the Minion’s neck. With a powerful wrench, the monster’s neck stretched out with a cracking noise, and it stilled.
Fenn stood away from the Minion and looked around him, licking the blood from his muzzle.
Sniffing the air, his nose wrinkled. The same scent which had lingered on the two Hideous within the tunnels permeated the air like a thick oil. It filled him with anticipation. It seemed as though whatever he had been waiting for since he was summoned would soon come to pass.
With a final heave, Fenn threw a slab of concrete out of the way and crawled out of the tomb of earth and stone that the collapse had dropped with him. Small fires ran through fur at the demon’s head and extremities, making shadows dance along the walls and giving off enough light to see by. Once out, he turned around and pulled, wrapping the chain around his arms as he freed it.
Now freed, he stood and turned to study his surroundings.
He himself had fallen into a large platform, wide and with a high ceiling, all made of stone. The end of the platform ended on a wide set of stairs leading up. Off to the sides, old rusted tracks tapered off into dark tunnels. The place had a musty smell to it, the air old and stale, and if he focused his attention, the sound of rushing water reached his ears from above. Likely carried in the pipe networks humans built under their cities.
Looking up behind him only offered a view of the crumbled stone, dirt and concrete. He would not be climbing up the way he fell.
The hunters were nowhere to be seen. If they had fallen with him, they were likely separated from him by the rubble, or buried under it. Good riddance if the latter was true.
Fenn grunted and climbed down to the base of the mound. He shook his body like a dog, letting earth and debris fall around him. Metallic, plinking noises alerted him of some of the metal projectiles the human had used on him falling out of his shallow wounds. The thought darkened his already sour mood. He had sustained many small wounds in the fight against the hunter, and yet he had little to show for it. His eyes settled on the puncture wound gazing up at him from his massive wrist. The pain meant little. It was only the latest in a long line of injuries the old Hellhound had suffered throughout his life, an insignificant one at that. The wound itself had already began to close, yet the demon’s pride would not be mended so easily.
Interrupted. The fight had been interrupted. The mere thought sent the flames along his fur into a frenzy.
He had been made to look like a fool. He should have killed the talkative one where he stood, and not even considered sparing the other one his flames. What point was there to testing them? The hunter simply lacked the tools to do him much harm.
Fenn could not help but wonder if he would have been staring at such an insignificant injury had that not been the case. At that point, it would have been a more satisfying outcome. He only had his pride to blame for this defeat.
The demon huffed, dropping to all fours. Perhaps he was growing complacent in his old age.
Putting the thoughts aside for the moment, the Hellhound plodded forward and up the stairs, letting the fire light his way as he moved out of the hall. Other tunnels greeted him as he reached the next level approach, and the demon’s nose twitched searching for any scents that would allow him to find an exit, but the same old, musty smell permeated each passageway. Some of these had old tracks among them, while others simply seemed to serve as passageways between them. For lack of a better course of action, he chose the closest hallway he could fit in and set down its path, nose twitching and ears swiveling as he went.
For several minutes, Fenn wandered aimlessly, his only concern that he should somehow loop back into his own trail, until a scent other than the smell of ruin and decay entered his nostrils.
There were other demons in this maze.
The Hellhound allowed his flames to extinguish and brought its muzzle low to the ground, sniffing at the trail. Fairly recent. At least two of them. There was another smell mixed in to the scent of the demons, but Fenn could not place it. It was foul, even to the Hellhound’s nose, but it made it easy to track.
Fenn set down on the trail, the old warrior’s imposing march replaced by the smooth, silent movement of a predator’s grace. It was not long before noise reached the dog’s sensitive ears. An odd clicking and clacking, like steel softly tapping against the stone floor echoed down the path. After a moment, it seemed to stop, replaced by a chittering noise with an odd inflexion that reminded Fenn of speech. By then, he had no need to follow their scent. The thin, gem-like bodies of the two Hideous glowed with its own inner light, radiated outwards with a pallid, purple hue.
The demons had stopped at the juncture of a T-shaped corridor, and were currently studying the two small passageways leading forward. Fenn grimaced in the darkness. They were both too small for him to follow through.
One of the demons let out another chittering sound before marching into its chosen tunnel, followed by its companion. Once the click-clack of the Hideous footsteps receded, Fenn sauntered into the small room, letting his flames return.
Another curious development. Those Hideous had behaved as though they were searching for something beneath this undercity. Were they looking for an exit, much as he was? Perhaps, but it seemed unlikely. They were moving with a hurried purpose, and that stench that clung to them like rot… those demons were owned. Something had sent them down here, but for what purpose?
He knew something was happening in this city. Power was being drawn to it, beyond the small demons that seemed to have made this city their home before his own arrival. Fenn himself had been summoned by a powerless dabbler, and still had been able to manifest himself in this realm in an undiluted form, something that would never have occurred had the veil been at its proper strength. Demons moved along the city with clear purpose, the scent of Heaven’s Host had occasionally tickled at his nose, and humans aware of the supernatural’s existence had been flocking to this city en masse. The air was tense with violence, but it had yet to be properly unleashed.
He clicked his tongue in irritation. It mattered little at the moment. He wanted to leave these tunnels, but the Hideous’ efforts had only managed to lead Fenn to another dead end.
He had almost left the tunnel when a soft breeze caressed his fur. Fenn turned around, staring at the wall, and caught sight of a small hole amidst the stone. Blue, sterile light filtered through the small opening, along with the smells of smoke and rain. And blood.
Fenn glanced over his shoulder, focusing his senses to make sure the Hideous had gone far enough. When silence was all he could hear from the tunnels, he gave the wall a rough shove. Cracks spread through the impact. A second blow crumbled the wall, letting Fenn walk out of the ruins and into a smooth, circular tunnel with metal tracks running down its length. Close by, Fenn could make out the electric light that tended to accompany human occupation in this era.
He moved up the tunnel and climbed up to the platform, carefully studying his surroundings. The stench of blood was stronger now, but there were no corpses to be seen. Humans must have fled the area already.
He found the nearest way up, two of those moving staircases humans called escalators, and awkwardly crawled up between them, him being too large to make use of them himself. Up the top, he found a barrier, seemingly designed to limit the people who walked down into the station. Fenn tore it out of the way with a small grunt of exertion.
It was there that he found the first casualties. Three humans lay dead, bodies torn by sharp teeth and claws. Two of them had been gunslingers, evidenced by the blue uniforms and small firearms near the bodies. The last one was too torn up to make out much of anything.
One of the culprits’ bodies lied still between them, body riddled with the gunslinger’s small projectiles. A small creature, by Fenn’s standards, the size of a large dog, its body an ugly mockery of Fenn’s own. Reptilian tail, thin hips and rear legs, with a larger torso and obscenely-muscled shoulders. Its maw was bloodied and full to the brim with gaping fangs.
Fenn’s eyes narrowed, now recognizing the smell of minor demons among the stench of death. Bloody footprints led ahead, in the direction pointed by the signs with the word ‘EXIT’ on them.
Naturally.
He forged ahead, after the trail of blood, and ignoring the shops and counters that littered the walls of the station, all either shuttered down or otherwise abandoned.
The sounds of gnashing teeth and tearing flesh announced the presence of the small demons even before he turned the corner. There, he saw large, wide stairs leading out to the city air. Before the exit, three Minions fought over the remains of a single human, barely recognizable as a male at that point. Mercifully dead, blood pooled below him, staining what Fenn assumed were his possessions. A blanket, a cup filled with the metal that humans used as a currency.
Propped against the wall, Fenn could spy a cardboard sign that read “PLEASE HELP”.
Laughter escaped the beast’s throat in a low rumble.
The Minions turned at the sudden noise, and scrambled back at the sight of the Hellhound with a string of surprised hisses. The sound quickly turned into angered snarls as they began to creep forward, seemingly intent in protecting their meal. As if Fenn was interested in carrion.
Pack hunters by nature, the Minions began to fan out as they approached Fenn. It was all instinct. The beasts were rabid and mindless, not easily cowed, and as such prime target for strong demons who sought fearless, expendable forces. Their name reflected that.
A shame Fenn did not much care for the mockeries.
As the monsters approached, the Hellhound took a deep breath, the spaces between his scales lighting from within with a warm light, and belched out a tongue of fire at the closest one.
A shrill whine escaped the thing’s lungs as the fire engulfed it, burning its skin and working its way into the minion’s mouth and insides. No sooner had the lance of flame devoured the first of their kin that the other two darted in.
The first one ducked low under the fire, snapping its jaws at Fenn’s exposed throat. The Hellhound closed his jaws and grabbed the Minion mid-leap, his powerful digits closing around the thing’s neck. Claws futilely scratched at the hardened scales of his arm before Fenn threw him to the side, into one of the shops surrounding the hallway. The beast crashed against a glass window, shattering it and falling somewhere within.
A weight settling on his back, near his neck, informed him of the position and intentions of the other Minion. Fenn slammed his palms against the ground, forcing himself upright in a sudden, explosive motion. Of course, the halls were not meant to house something three times the height of a normal human, and he felt his back crashing against the ceiling, crushing the smaller demon in the process. Reaching around his neck, Fenn grasped the disoriented Minion by the arm and slammed it to the ground, before bringing his arms down on it like hammers. After the confrontation with the Demon Hunters, the feeling of snapping bones was immensely satisfying.
A scuttling sound alerted him of movement and he glanced up to catch sight of the minion he had thrown against the glass sneaking away towards the stairs.
A snarl escaped Fenn’s throat as he launched himself after the small beast. Seeing its cover was blown the Minion erupted into a single-minded sprint up the stairs. It had barely reached the outside of the building when the Hellhound’s massive weight settled atop it, slamming the beast into the ground. Its limbs shook as it tried to struggle out of Fenn’s grip, but the demon’s fangs closed on the Minion’s neck. With a powerful wrench, the monster’s neck stretched out with a cracking noise, and it stilled.
Fenn stood away from the Minion and looked around him, licking the blood from his muzzle.
Sniffing the air, his nose wrinkled. The same scent which had lingered on the two Hideous within the tunnels permeated the air like a thick oil. It filled him with anticipation. It seemed as though whatever he had been waiting for since he was summoned would soon come to pass.
Fenn clicked his tongue at the human’s mocking tone. Such irreverence at the face of danger would only be found in the foolish and in the dying. If the human insisted in turning their bout into a physical contest, the second could be easily arranged.
The old behemoth did not flinch as the human threw a belt of munitions his way, simply letting it bounce against his body. The heat instantly managed to ignite the gunpowder inside some of the bullets, but his scales had already proven themselves to be sufficient armor against the projectiles when properly fired, and the old warrior had been in enough battles to recognize a feint when he saw one.
Instead, his attention remained focused on the human closing the gap between them.
To an outside observer, the drive and tenacity needed to stand up to a foe that dwarfed one in physical might by such a margin could have been worthy of admiration. There was a reason why the tale of David and Goliath was common knowledge even to that day. To Fenn, however, the sight of his smaller opponent, his raiments shredded and body wounded by the explosion, was an old and tired scene.
As the human closed, the demon swung an arm towards him, as if to swat away an annoying insect.
A sudden gout of flame propelled the hunter over the blow. Fenn’s eyes widened slightly.
Flying what must have been ten meters into the air, the human was seen at face-level to the beast he fought. As they got eye-to-eye, the hunter stuck a tongue out as an act of defiance. Though, as he reached as high as one thrust could take him, Snider began to fall.
In either hand, the hunter carried two hammers close to the head. His arms shot out, the shaft of the hammer sliding in his hands. The engines on the hammer-heads sputtered as jets of flame spewed from them. Still midair, Snider spun around like the blade of a helicopter with uncanny maneuverability as he hovered closer toward the beast.
The demon raised an arm to block the hunter’s advance. The sound of metal rasping against metal overtook the rain as one of the human’s hammers struck Fenn’s manacles with tremendous force.
Just then, the monster’s ears picked up a second, heavy crash, and he tilted his head to the side to catch a glimpse of the other human, who had managed to rise after Fenn’s first blow. A stabbing pain drew a surprised growl from the beast and his attention refocused on the human closest to him.
Still clinging to Fenn, Snider had brought down the base of his other weapon against the demon’s arm, the sharpened pommel digging into the softer flesh near Fenn’s wrist with the aid of its propellant.
Fenn swung his arm away reflexively, dislodging the hunter and his weapon and launching them away from the demon. Fenn snarled and took a step towards his foe, arm half raised to make use of his chains.
That was as much as the ground below him would take. Weakened by the explosion, Fenn’s weight, and the sudden impact of the other human’s weapon, the ground underneath him gave way with a sudden lurch. Fenn felt himself lose his footing, and the floor rose to meet him. His torso slammed against the concrete, cracks spread from the impact.
The demon’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, and his arms clawed at the ground in front of him in a vain attempt to pull himself up, his rear legs fruitlessly scrambling to find a foothold. The ground before him gave way to his weight as easily as the ground under him, and Fenn let out a furious roar as he fell.
The old behemoth did not flinch as the human threw a belt of munitions his way, simply letting it bounce against his body. The heat instantly managed to ignite the gunpowder inside some of the bullets, but his scales had already proven themselves to be sufficient armor against the projectiles when properly fired, and the old warrior had been in enough battles to recognize a feint when he saw one.
Instead, his attention remained focused on the human closing the gap between them.
To an outside observer, the drive and tenacity needed to stand up to a foe that dwarfed one in physical might by such a margin could have been worthy of admiration. There was a reason why the tale of David and Goliath was common knowledge even to that day. To Fenn, however, the sight of his smaller opponent, his raiments shredded and body wounded by the explosion, was an old and tired scene.
As the human closed, the demon swung an arm towards him, as if to swat away an annoying insect.
A sudden gout of flame propelled the hunter over the blow. Fenn’s eyes widened slightly.
Flying what must have been ten meters into the air, the human was seen at face-level to the beast he fought. As they got eye-to-eye, the hunter stuck a tongue out as an act of defiance. Though, as he reached as high as one thrust could take him, Snider began to fall.
In either hand, the hunter carried two hammers close to the head. His arms shot out, the shaft of the hammer sliding in his hands. The engines on the hammer-heads sputtered as jets of flame spewed from them. Still midair, Snider spun around like the blade of a helicopter with uncanny maneuverability as he hovered closer toward the beast.
The demon raised an arm to block the hunter’s advance. The sound of metal rasping against metal overtook the rain as one of the human’s hammers struck Fenn’s manacles with tremendous force.
Just then, the monster’s ears picked up a second, heavy crash, and he tilted his head to the side to catch a glimpse of the other human, who had managed to rise after Fenn’s first blow. A stabbing pain drew a surprised growl from the beast and his attention refocused on the human closest to him.
Still clinging to Fenn, Snider had brought down the base of his other weapon against the demon’s arm, the sharpened pommel digging into the softer flesh near Fenn’s wrist with the aid of its propellant.
Fenn swung his arm away reflexively, dislodging the hunter and his weapon and launching them away from the demon. Fenn snarled and took a step towards his foe, arm half raised to make use of his chains.
That was as much as the ground below him would take. Weakened by the explosion, Fenn’s weight, and the sudden impact of the other human’s weapon, the ground underneath him gave way with a sudden lurch. Fenn felt himself lose his footing, and the floor rose to meet him. His torso slammed against the concrete, cracks spread from the impact.
The demon’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, and his arms clawed at the ground in front of him in a vain attempt to pull himself up, his rear legs fruitlessly scrambling to find a foothold. The ground before him gave way to his weight as easily as the ground under him, and Fenn let out a furious roar as he fell.
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