A sudden cold spread from the hound’s chest. Fenn’s eyes angled downwards, towards the steel tip poking out of his chest. [i]Ah,[/i] he distantly thought, [i]the snake makes its move.[/i] The steel slipped out of the wound, leaving behind a strange void, and the demon staggered. He had known their foe would be lying in wait, hoping to gain an advantage over them. Why had he not seen this coming? Perhaps he had been too confident in his hide’s toughness. The fight continued to rage around him, its focus now shifted towards the new appearance, but Fenn suddenly found it difficult to follow the action. His eyes unfocused, and cold continued to spread from his center. A metallic flavor filled his mouth. Willing fire into his limbs through the languor that filled him, the hound turned, ready to pounce on the vulnerable snake. Before he could do so, darkness swept over him. Whatever strength he had summoned left him, and the demon’s large body collapsed under its weight. Fenn forced himself to look up at the new enemy, this one vaguely female in shape. A strange but familiar scent filled his nostrils before the dark swallowed him again. He felt a feeling of weightlessness, followed by pressure against his limbs. He resurfaced before the snake. Fenn tried to summon strength into his arms, willing them to grasp the small human and crush him, but the darkness holding him did not relent, presenting his underbelly to the enemy. The pair traded words, but they were drowned by the blood rushing through his ears. The snake turned towards him, brandishing the cursed sword. A low growl seeped through the demon’s chest, muscles trembling as he struggled to regain control over them. The snarling grew in volume as the blade sunk into his stomach, and then suddenly tapered off into a hacking cough. A scalding, tar-like fluid bubbled from the hound’s maw. The man dug into the wound, cutting deeper and wider until the orb Fenn had swallowed fell to the ground. The blade retreated. Fenn felt himself grow limp in his restraints. What felt like an eternity later, the restraints fell away, letting him fall over the large lake of blood that had formed under him. Darkness encroached on his vision. The snake was gone, likely off to destroy the seal now that he had the means to go through the gate, which meant he had failed in his mission. In that space at the edge of consciousness, every blink of his bleary eyes took an inordinate amount of time. The view before him changed without him noticing, a pair of feet standing at the edge of his blood. The Imp spoke. When he blinked again, she was gone. He wondered if this cold he felt was death coming for him. Pierced by the cursed blade of a demon swordsman from behind, then gutted like an animal in plain view of both friend and foe. An ignoble end. Perhaps one all too fitting for a dog of war well past its prime, and so he would not begrudge it. “...” He wondered why, if this was death, he was suddenly so aware of the pain in each an every of his wounds. [i]Of course[/i] he realized, his mind regaining some clarity, [i]as the poison recedes, the body repairs itself. This flame is too damn stubborn. Can you not leave me to rest?[/i] With the orb gone and the deadening magic of the interloper fading from his body, he found his strength and faculties returning to him. Smoke began to bubble from his wounds, stemming the flow of blood. Fire sputtered to life over his fur, and the dog began to lift itself on unsteady limbs. He felt a lurching, sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach and brought a paw to the wound on his underbelly, trying to keep his entrails from falling through. That would not do. The fire on his fur flared outwards, growing in brilliance and spreading over his fur until the vast form of the hellhound could barely be made out under the conflagration. After a moment, the flame began to move towards the two beings still locked in a confrontation. The Umbra Witch and the interloper had begun their battle, rushing to and fro in bursts of gunfire and nebulous energy. The witch’s contracted demons surged into the fight from large portals formed from her hair, weaving in and out of existence as they tangled against the strange being’s blackened magic. Both seemed too engrossed in their duel to take note of the flame’s inexorable approach, small as it was compared to the unfolding chaos. Two large fireballs, long contrails like comets trailing behind them, separated from the pyre and raced towards the combatants. The witch, standing with her back directly towards the projectiles, sensed the heat behind her and weaved away with a fae grace, leaving the interloper to face the fire. The only hint that the fire had been registered as a threat was the nebulous energy that swept out in a wave, extinguishing the flames in an instant. Of course, it did nothing to halt the tightly-packed coils of chains hidden within. The creature started and crossed her arms in defense before a deep darkness engulfed her. The chains fell into the void, meeting no resistance. The click of metal on metal came from besides the flame. The fire shifted slightly as Fenn turned to regard the witch pointing a small firearm at him. “I do not take kindly to interruptions, love.” Fenn’s voice came in the hoary whisper of a ravaged throat. “Move.” His chains trembled a warning before the two metal coils were violently expelled from the inky blackness that had covered the interloper. The witch stepped back as the chains swerved back and were swallowed by the hound’s pyre, just as the enemy stepped out of her barrier, unharmed. The witch turned to aim at her original enemy, but the mysterious being’s focus was no longer on her. “Beast of hellfire, your actions are unwise. Engaging me in combat will not change the outcome of today's events. I suggest retreating.” “Aye,” he agreed, haltingly. “You speak the truth... alas, the seal does not matter to me. And… you brought me great pain. I wish to taste your blood, now.” Fenn let out a soft grunt disguising a pained cough. “Do you need this one alive, witch?” “Why yes, if at all possible,” she answered conversationally. “How… disappointing.” The enemy did not seem interested in the exchange before her. Instead, she spoke calmly. “It appears I am outnumbered now. However, the difficulty has not increased. I will allow you to exercise your futile actions.” Nebulous magic swelled at the words. This time, it was Fenn’s pained cough that hid hoarse laughter. [hr] Fenn’s eyes opened, then quickly closed at the light that assaulted them. The feeling of stone floors underneath him along with the roiling sound of magma gave him a clue as to his current whereabouts. The large demon shifted and stretched his long arms forward, feeling the muscles quiver under the tension. New aches accompanied this awakening, mostly centered on his belly, chest, and along the side of his neck. Finally opening his eyes, the demon chanced a look down. Puckering, grayish scar tissue had formed over the wounds dealt by the demonic blade. The latest marks on his hide, the veritable tapestry of old injuries that laid bare the violent history of its owner. He knew that for how excruciating the experience had been, for how exceptional the make of the blade that had dealt such damage was, it would not take long for the scars to become indistinguishable from some of the larger wounds he still bore proof of. Fenn brought a claw to his chest. Saw the thin trail of smoke that arose as the flesh parted under the sharp point when he applied the softest of pressures. “I see the family’s pet is feeling better!” The announcement was accompanied by a shrill laugh as the watcher that continued to shadow him poked its head from the wall besides him. Fenn wasted no time pulling his fist away from his chest and hammering it against the source of the offending sound. Dust fell from the ceiling at the blow, but a moment later, the specter flowed out through his arm, regarding him with that mouthless sneer he had come to associate from the creature. “Yes, indeed, this is more like you, mutt.” Fenn scowled at the watcher, then shook his head. He took a glance at the room he was in. Bare, stone walls, and a pool of lava flowing into the room from an opening at the wall. He searched his memory for when he had made his way into the room, but came up blank. The hound grunted, pushing away the feeling of disorientation that suddenly pressed down on him. If he tried to dredge up the last memory he had... [i]it was battling that interloper. We fought for some time, to little effect, and then...[/i] the ground had begun to shake. The enemy had taken the chance to make themselves scarce then. “Was I... carried here?” He asked slowly. The thought brought shame to him. The only one who would be capable of such a feat would be the Imp. Her burdens should have been his to carry, not the reverse. “Cracked your head against something?” The specter let out another of its obnoxious cackles. “Of course not! You managed to make it all the way here all on your own! You even responded when spoken to, but the minute the portal back opened you slipped away all by your lonesome to this room while the others went to report. Why, I might have been the only one with an inkling of what poor shape you were on!” “Aye?” Fenn responded by reflex. He had no memory of any of this. “Of course! You did not try to smash me when I came by to rub your failure on your noses. What greater hint could there be?” He grunted. “And the Imp? Where is she?” “Your master, you mean? Gone to Earth once again. It would seem the loss of one more seal has not made the place go to hell yet.” It giggled. “Who knows how long it will take for that to happen? Not long if it’s up to you fools, I would imagine.” A hum thrummed in the hound’s chest as it narrowed its eyes. “Does the Council tolerate such venom, or encourages it?” “Bah!” The watcher made a dismissive gesture. “The Council could care less about what I think as long as I do what I’m told. You should keep that in mind, mutt. This latest failure puts you on thin ice.” The creature giggled at that, as though enjoying a private joke. “I am not beholden to the Council, pest.” “Hah! But! Your master is,” it crooned. “Take care you do not lead the two of you to an early grave.” [i]Aye. And, pray tell, what shall your Council do without us? Will it finally count on their vaunted Horsemen?[/i] Fenn withheld those remarks. There had been a time when he had thought the four Nephilim, the supposed last of their race, had been held back from the current conflict because the nature of their appearance on Earth would imply the beginning of the true end-war. Now, however he was not certain that was enough to explain their absence. The mission before their last one had not taken place on Earth, after all, and the last mission had seen the appearance of an interloper with a very particular scent and an agenda of its own. He was beginning to consider taking the matter to the Council itself. [i]Would I even survive bringing such matters into question?[/i] “You became quiet.” The watcher’s observation roused the demon from its introspection. “Did I perhaps touch a sore spot?” Fenn huffed through his snout, relieved the creature had not thought more of his pause. “Leave, specter. I am finished entertaining you.” “I do not take orders from you, mutt. You are but a servant’s pet.” The hound gave the watcher a half-lidded stare. Moments later, fire erupted from the entrance to the room. The watcher’s shriek followed on its heels. “Ahrg! That’s too bright, you stupid dog!” It screamed as it floated out of the room, spindly fingers covering its eyes. [hr] The place had been empty, for the most part. Whoever had designed it was definitely no connoisseur of architecture, Cassandra thought, thinking that, compared to this, a Spartan room was positively luxurious. The most extravagant thing she had found was a smithy, at that point unused, but with signs of recent use. Since she had parted with her mother, about an hour had passed, and so far it had been less interesting than she had expected. This was a new [i]realm[/i]. Not just a different country, but a veritable dimension of its own, connected to Earth through whatever magical or cosmological means! And yet, the monotony took some of the wind out of her sails. Charred bricks an equal mix of black and sulphurous red just got boring after a while. One would expect an ancient citadel like this, to carry some secrets within its walls. She sighed and took off her—or rather, her mother’s—hat, fanning herself with it. This place was unimaginably hot, she had to admit, and were it not because of her light clothing she had no doubt she would be suffering a heatstroke. And she was a half-demon of all things, naturally far more resistant to heat than other humans thanks to her maternal heritage. She would have congratulated herself on that fact, had it not been for the sudden flash of light and the indignant screech of… something, coming from down a hallway just ahead of her. Suddenly intrigued, she took off after it, passing by one of the same beings that had brought her to this realm. It ignored her, but judging by its facial expression—or what she could see of it—this being was what had been indignant. She suppressed a chuckle and continued down the hallway until she came to an enormous doorway, one that could, as her mother had put it, fit an elephant. She peered into the room hesitantly, keeping the rest of her body out of sight. At the sight of what was within, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Sacrébleu!” She exclaimed and stepped into full view of the beast within. It truly was the size of an elephant, but a beast of fire and scale and black fur. Chains wrapped around the lower part of its front legs, covering only a miniscule amount of the numerous scars that covered its body. Her mind raced with information new and old, comparing old stories to the sight before her. Those slitted, amber eyes resting upon her, gleaming with intelligence, and the overall canine appearance of this creature told her much of what she needed. “You’re a hellhound,” she said, walking into the room and halving the distance between them. She wasn’t sure who this creature was, and if he was aggressive or not. Her money was on the former, and though she was confident in her ability to defend herself, the Hellhound was enormous. “How did you get so big?” She asked. [hr] Petty as it was, Fenn had to admit to a certain satisfaction at finally eliciting such a response from the small watcher. Mayhaps theaps the shadowy creature would think twice before bothering him again. The hound rose from his haunches, moving his massive frame towards the archway. As tempting as it was to simply lay there in an unused room where others would need to find him to interrupt his rest, there were things he wished to discuss, and thoughts he wished to put in order. Which made the appearance of the wide-eyed, humanoid female barring his way out a touch irritating. Had it not been for the fact that he did not recognize this one, either by face or scent, he may well have chosen to barrel over her. As it was, there was something decidedly familiar about her. Fenn paused, regarding the small half-blood with guarded interest. When the woman began a careless approach, Fenn raised his lip, exposing teeth in a silent warning. She stopped right outside of his reach. “How did you get so big?” she asked with childlike wonder. The old dog could not help but feel discomfort at the eagerness of her approach. He lowered his head to bring it level to her. “I fed well as a pup.” His nose twitched, sampling the fresh fragrance wafting from her. It carried with it the impression of forests, grasslands and wide plains, and part of it immediately brought the Imp to mind. However, even with all her time spent amongst humans, he would never confuse that one for a halfling. “Have we met, Pixie?” he asked gruffly, seeking to put the strange feeling of familiarity to rest. The girl walked into the room proper, slowly circling him while keeping a respectful distance. She didn’t appear afraid, merely showing respectful caution in the presence of Fenn. “We haven’t,” she said, her brows furrowing, “but I think I maybe have heard stories about you. But you never answered my first question.” She stopped, at this point near his hind legs, and looked back at him with a faint smile, waiting. [i]Stories of me? Told by whom? There are only so many kinds of attention such tales can bring.[/i] “Which question?” “Whether you’re a hellhound or not,” she said. Fenn’s tail swayed, betraying his impatience. “That should be evident,” he drawled. The path out of the room was vacant now and the hound was not in the mood to play with the stranger. He sauntered forward at a lazy pace, not bothering to turn his back away from the short woman. “What’s your name?” She asked, the pitter-patter of her feet follow in his wake, and soon reaching up beside him. He glanced to his side, saw the expectant look of the woman trying to match his stride. “Fenn,” he stated, knowing she already had the answer and was merely looking for confirmation. “I’m Cassandra,” she replied, happily, “nice to meet you… So, where are we going? I only just got here.” “I have yet to decide.” The hound paused suddenly and regarded the woman with an intense stare. “You are not fit for this environment, yet you have not been granted protection to the elements. You have not stood before the Council. Why are you here, Pixie?” Her face lit up into a brief smile, as if what he had said amused her, or she was privy to a joke he was not, but it faded soon after as she addressed his query. “‘Their protection’?” She asked, scrunching up her face in seeming bewilderment for a moment or two, before it lit up in comprehension. “Oh! You mean the Charred Council. Well… I haven’t really met them, and the Thing that took me here didn’t mention it.” She shrugged, meeting Fenn’s gaze unperturbed. “And I’m here because I want to help. Susanne told me that the Charred Council had hired her to help protect the Seals that prevented some war between Heaven and Hell. I have the ability, so why not use them to protect my family?” “I do not know that name,” the dog stated, eyelids drooping slightly. “It seems I am to believe that you were brought here and then left to roam by your lonesome, unmindful of what problems might arise from a stranger traipsing through these halls unaccompanied. Have I understood correctly?” “She means me, Fenn,” a voice said from around the corner. A short woman of asian descent, carrying a large bag and a long, cylindrical package stepped into view. “Susanne was my previous name.” She walked closer, sizing up Fenn and Cassandra, a smile on her lips. “Imp,” he greeted. [i]Aye, I had an inkling. Then...[/i] “You must take better care of your spawn. Another may well have treated this one as an intruder.” “You know as well as I do that intruders here are impossible. But let me introduce you to my daughter. This is Cassandra Fayette Bellerose. And Cassandra, this is Fenn. I think I once told you of one of my oldest rivals.” She then turned to face the Hellhound. “I also have a present for you, Big ol’ pup,” Lily said, and threw the large bag towards Fenn. The hound may well have complained that intruders were always impossible until they were not, but catching the proffered object in his mouth made that a difficult task. A pleasant aroma wafted from an opening. The hound let the present fall to the ground in front of him before tearing the bag open with a push of a paw and his sount. “I do not ask for gifts, Imp.” Fenn regarded the offered meats with a critical eye. “In fact, I have to ask myself if you have not begun to believe some of the other’s misconceptions that I am in fact an exotic pet of yours.” “Who’d ever want a pet like you?” She asked with a chuckle. “But the point of a gift is that it’s not asked for. Consider it a token of goodwill, and some actual proper food. Angels aren’t very tasty, last I checked.” The hound grunted before he lowered his head and dug into the offering. Cassandra gasped beside Fenn, her expression one of disgust. “You ate angels?!” “Tried. Once,” the Imp replied casually. “I bit him in the throat, to be precise. Tasted like oil.” “Charcoal,” Fenn corrected through a glob of fat. “Everything tastes like charcoal if you burn it enough, Fenn.” The Pixie let out relieved sigh. “Still, though… Ew.” Lily chuckled, then walked over to give her cub a pat on the head, as if she were a pet. “I’ll be heading off again, trying to find Souta. And Fenn?” She stopped in front of his snout, staring him straight in the eye, and spoke in a steely tone, “Make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” A wave later, and she was gone, off to wherever. Fenn’s ear twitched at the frost in her words. When she left, he glanced up from his meal to gaze consideringly at his new charge. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, sliding over some dribbling blood. “Your mother should have kept you out of this if she feels so strongly about your safety,” he said bluntly. Cassandra shrugged. “I didn’t give her a choice. Plus, she cannot beat me in a swordfight—Hasn’t been able to since I was thirty.” She glanced up at Fenn, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I think she might have meant it as a… request, for you to keep me safe, or something to that effect?” “What she has done is made you my responsibility, and if you are at all like your mother, it shall be a tiresome affair.” The demon huffed. “So be it. Do not stray too far, at least until you have met the others who have pledged themselves to the Council.” “I’ll be sure not to,” she replied cheerily. “By the way… Can I pet you?” “No.” “Can I ride you?” “You have me mistaken for a horse.” Cassandra shook her head, her smile too bright for the place they were in. “Horses aren’t the only thing you can ride,” she said simply. “There’s this game where people ride giant wolves, too.” “Then tame yourself a wolf, Pixie,” he grunted, returning his attention to what remained of his meal. The meat disappeared at a frightening rate, torn into large chunks and often swallowed whole into the dog’s large gullet. “If I could, I would,” she said pouting. “Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire, I suppose.” She glanced about at their surroundings, and squinted off down one of the adjacent hallways, then quickly glanced down at Fenn. “So… You don’t mind if I go exploring? Mother didn’t tell me to stay with you, after all.” She paused. “Don’t worry about what she said to you. I don’t think I’ll be in any danger here. Unless, of course, I piss up the wrong tree.” She turned to Fenn, grinning. She then winked at him and took off at a run down one of the corridors, leaving the hellhound behind. Fenn’s ears twitched at the sound of retreating footsteps, glancing over the direction the whelp had ran off to. Letting out a slow sigh, he swallowed the food still in his mouth and sedately followed after the Pixie’s trail, leaving the remains of his gift to be cleaned up by another.