| Bathhouse Getaway; Escape From Hell | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 19 2013, 08:02 PM (93 Views) | |
| Detective Wesson | Nov 19 2013, 08:02 PM Post #1 |
![]()
|
Shaitan spent days in the Sharp topped forest with Guldo mastering the technique. It was as the Djinn suspected. One must take a deep breath to use this technique. Once one had mastered the proper breathing techniques, the mastery of time and space were secondary. Form before function. Pilaf had become bored with waiting in this forest, and even the suffering of Guldo’s prisoners failed to amuse the sadistic little imp any longer. “You know Afrit Shaitan, most masters don’t wait for their servants” Pilaf really lathered on an emphasis on Wait and Servants. The tapping of his foot almost disturbed the agonized tree piñatas. “Master, this technique is vital for our exit from this realm” Shaitan explained for what must have been the 8th time that day. “With this technique we may be able to isolate the tears in the plane.” Truth be told Shaitan didn’t really need the imp anymore. Pilaf was old, crazy, and a great inconvenience, but it was much better than traveling alone. Shaitan often told himself that he needed the Imp’s help to find the Dragonballs. “Yes yes, I understand the theory you nincompoop! I only ask why it is taking so long. Had I more options you would be back in the frozen wastes doing your best impression of an icicle!" Maybe Shaitan didn’t need the imp so badly after all. Once Shaitan had mastered the technique, The Djinn and Imp headed out once again. The landscape of hell was becoming more familiar to Shaitan. Blood Rivers, cracked, lifeless ground and Grey spires of rock as far as the eye could see. Occasionally a tree dotted the horizon, only to be dead or dying. . Two large ogres approached Shaitan and Pilaf “Hello, and welcome to HFIL, how may we help you?" “What in the Hell is HFIL?” questioned Shaitan. “A yes, perhaps you have been chilling in cold storage for a long while, yes?” the other ogre picked up where the other had left off, all smiles, and talking with his overlarge hands. “Allow us” “To Explain!” One ogre unfurled an infographic, pointing to a picture of a particulairly diabolical looking Demon “This is Kind Dabura yes? Lord of the afterworld” “Our afterworld!" The other ogre nodded in blind agreement “And we He felt that Hell was trending too well with the young people of the multiverse!” “Many were claiming that they would go to hell in some sort of positive light” “And this is not something Lord Dabura wants, space is at a premium!” “So what did we do?” The two ogres leaned in towards Shaitan and Pilaf as if they expected some sort of answer. Pilaf had dozed off. In unison they both shouted “Why we rebranded the entire place! HFIL! Home for Infinite Losers!” Pilaf was launched awake, if his heart had been racing any faster, he likely would have died and went to Hell 2. “and don’t you feel bad.” One waved his finger “You two are both Infinite Losers!” The other joined in the finger waving. “But luckily for you two, we have help for hopeless cases such as your own” The both motioned in unison to a broken down labor camp to their north. The scenery in Hell had no sort of beauty to it, but this camp was a blight on the skyline, lowering the property value of any nearby lots to somewhere in the negatives. “And if we don’t want to go to these...” Shaitan paused looking for the right words. Ones that hopefully would not get him into an immediate headlock. “… Reformation camps, can we move on?” “Not go to the reformation camps?" They both cried. “No no no no no no no no no no no no no” One Ogre repeated in a sort of sing song tune. “I am not a child to be comforted!” Shaitan could feel a vein rising on his forehead. “My master and I would like to pass by unaccompanied.” “Well then, it looks like we have a little fighter. Good thing we are bigger then you two by many spans, yes?” One clamped Shaitan in a headlock, while the other picked up Pilaf. “Off we go to the camp, losers!” “Infinite losers” The other corrected. - It was the stench that hit Shaitan first. It clung to his nostrils, dug in, and made a home. Shaitain and Pilaf were shoved along into the camp. The ground began to squish underfoot “What is that stench!” squealed pilaf. A miasma of steam clung to the ground, smothering the imp. “Ah yes” the ogres chimed in, their dopey grins shining in pride. “These are the Huge Energetic Cauldron Kiester Stewers!” “Or Hecks for short!” Sunk into the ground were sulfurous pools, filled by Vanitians. Their high class chortles and nasally speech gave the camp all the allure of a high class dinner party, complete with servants running around, serving drinks. All eyes turned towards the new guests. The crowd erupted with gossip, while one in particular attempted to consume Afrit with his eyes. The Djinn would be red with indignation if he was not red already. The ogres pushed Shaitan and Pilaf behind a wooden shed, where leering eyes could not reach and musing gossip could not would not originate; If they didn’t stay too long here at least. “These are Dabura’s personal fountains, home today to a visiting Vanitian dignitary and his associates!” “We don’t believe this work should be too hard for you!” Pilaf began to choke on the sulfur misma. A hearty slap on his back from an ogre removed the obstruction, and a piece of his lung. “Small blue man! You will be serving drinks!” “Larger Red man! You will be shoveling coal” “Chop Chop!” they demanded in unison - It was slaves work. The saunas on the fire plane operated in a similar fashion. Water boiled by a continuous flow of lava, Stirred to keep from congealing by a multitude of Humans. That Hell had opted for coal heated baths was somewhat of a disappointment. Creaking and groaning, a veritable beast of burden struggled next to Shaitan. As old as hell itself, or something close, the ancient Arcosian with a hump back and cracked skin writhed in rhythm with the bellows, putting what was left of its back into the work. Though it took Shaitan some time, he followed the motions of the Arcosian, becoming quite adept at the menial work. The Beast’s technique was sound. One large eye turned toward Shaitan, Critical and angry, it demanded justification. “I puts my backs into works ever every day” It hissed, impaling its shovel in the towering stack of coal. “Ands they sends the new bloods to replace Frig!” Shaitan avoided eye contract and continued to shovel. “I don’t want your work Frig. I only wish to get myself back to the mortal plane. I have a great deal of training to do.” Afrit shoveled more into the fires. In its own way, this was training. The Arcosian had a broken body, but it was layered with muscle and callouses. The Djinn’s hardened compatriot did not seem happy with his explanation “Thens you leaves then? You leaves with Vanitian’s party backs to mortal plane!” This time it was Afrit who drove his shovel into the coal. “You mean to tell me that those Vanitians are not native to hell?” The Arcosian rumbled and hacked, with what Afrit could only assume was laughter, a seizure, or both. “Theys solds their souls for youth!” Theys travels to renews deal!” “Frig! I promise, I will leave this place, if you can tell me when the Vanitians are leaving.” “Tomorrow. They leaves tomorrows!” Shaitan smiled. He only had to inform Pilaf now. - The workers’ tents were nothing more than moldy canvas held together by even moldier rope and rusty poles. The space had an odor to it that demanded respect, lest you heave the contents of your stomach to the floor. It was here that Pilaf and Shaitan hatched their scheme. “What a fine mess you’ve got us into Afrit!” The imp managed to squash all the power of a scream into a whisper. His ancient back was nearly broken from the days work. Shaitan could hardly blame him. The serving saucers were 3 times the Imps size, and carried at least his weight in beverage. “Quiet Master. I have a plan. It will get us out of here, and onto V’anitii.” The Imp’s eyes drooped, still heavy from the day’s exhaustion “Can we do after I get my beauty rest” “Yes, you may sleep master. But first we plan!” - While the scent around the fountains was intolerable, the fountains themselves were pleasant, and warm. One young Vanitiann had go up early to enjoy a nice bath. “Master.” Pilaf walked up, gigantic drink platter in hand. “May I interest you in a bright drink for a bright start to your day?” - “Yes, I do feel like Earthling drugs are most exquisite. Have you read any of their literature? Certainly the Picture of Dorian Gray? Excellent stuff, most excellent” The Vanitii made small talk while he waited for the appearance of their Savior, Dabura. Turios stood nearby him, a new tribute. His soul had been sold away in the opening ceremonies. Now only the final farewell and the kissing of the ring remained. Each Vanitian leaned down and kissed Dabura’s ring, sealing the contract. Each stepped through an open rift onto V’anitii. Dabura smiled, as each member passed through the portal, eyes locked onto something out of sight deep within the aperture. It came to Turios’ turn. The older Vanitian offered sage words of advice and pushed Turios on. Dubara roared in anger, as Turios became a tall red man in robes. The Imp drink server pushed the Vanitian’s aside, tossing the strange man a carpet. Mounting the now floating rug, The Red man soared into the Rift, as Dabura attempted to close it. Crashing to a close, the portal cut shreds from the Man's robes. The Imp cried in misery. “My Lord” The Vanitian elder whimpered. “Our immortality?” Dabura’s sword fell swiftly. |
![]() |
|
| Detective Wesson | Nov 19 2013, 08:03 PM Post #2 |
![]()
|
[60 exp//200 zenni] Reentering the Mortal Plane on V'anitii |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Hell · Next Topic » |








3:27 AM Jul 11