WilliamDArand
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Inc inc 3 -CH7-
🕑 Added 2021-06-15 04:44:06 +0000 UTCSam banked around the small village below him for a third time.
As far as he could tell, it was a small family of Demons in charge of a village of humans with a contingent of Demon guards.
Throughout the village tired and worn looking mortals moved about whatever their task was. Though by and large that looked to be cultivating what looked to be some sort of crop.
In all of the fields surrounding the village in every direction were endless stalks of looked to be some sort of ripening vegetable. Though even from this distance Sam had the distinct impression that whatever it was, wasn’t “good”.
If he had to guess, it was likely some sort of horrible thing that grew in a negative energy plane. Having come from a place that was as bad as Hell.
Given that Hell was uninhabited by anything other than Demons, that included all flora and fauna, there was no real other possibility. That also meant that they’d spent quite a bit of time bringing in soil from somewhere else.
The operation probably took a great deal of effort to construct.
Except the lax way the guards moved about, the gear they wore, and how they conducted themselves, ran against that idea. In fact, when he looked at the manor house at the “top” of the village, it looked rather shabby.
Run down, even.
Hell has certainly changed since I lived in it. I’d heard some stories, but this is well beyond that.
Wouldn’t that also mean that there really is Demon kingdoms? Demon kingdoms similar to the medeival period of the prime material plane.
How curious.
It might be fun to go see it. See if my memories line up at all or if it’s all nostalgia in my mind.
Smirking, Sam turned in one of his wings and began diving down toward the settlement. He aimed himself for the outskirts of it so that people would see him arriving.
While doing so at the edge of the village. It would give their guards a chance to respond, as well as the leading Demon family.
Sam hadn’t seen any of them, but he got the impression they were simple Demons. Little different than mortals excepting for being Demons with a longer lifespan.
Pulling his wings up just before he touched down Sam turned to face the village. As soon as his feet hit the ground he folded his arms behind himself and spread his feet.
Hell was a place that actually was eat or be eaten.
There was no room for heroes, morals, or do-gooders. This was a physical manifestation of the infinite and unending torture that was the negative aspect of the afterlife.
Every Demon that lived, fed, and worked in that afterlife came from here. This was where all the punishments those that wronged suffered came from.
Softness did not exist here. It was one of the very reasons Sam had begun to crave to remain on the material plane, or to form his own plane.
Guards began to pour out of the village, one after the other. Rushing towards Sam at a full sprint with their weapons readied. Each one bearing the arms and armor that was indeed akin to a medieval era.
Almost immediately they began screaming at him.
Unfortunately, Sam didn’t understand a word of any of it.
At least, not at first.
To his ear, it had the ring of familiarity but not quite. There was something in the words and the way they spoke that made him feel like he should understand them.
Shaking his head, Sam held up a hand and then cleared his throat.
He hadn’t actually spoken the Demonic tongue in longer than he could actually remember. Even when he’d battled Demons, they’d often just spoken in whatever dialect of Humanity had summoned them.
“You’ll have to forgive me, my Demonic is incredibly rusty,” Sam tried, his hand held up in front of him still. At the same time he was using as little Essence as he could get away with to try and absorb whatever language they were speaking, while blending it with his own memories.
To him, it honestly felt like a derivative of his memory of Deomnic. Which is what he was basing the entire spell out of.
Sam felt like he was a citizen of the first Roman Republic who only knew classical and vulgar latin trying to converse with someone from Italy speaking modern Italian.
A number of the guards stood up considerably straight at Sam’s words. Their hands gripping their weapons with a great deal more force.
For whatever reason, the way in which he’d spoken had created a collective change in them. They’d all gone from angry and concerned, to anxious and terrified.
“Could someone please keep speaking?” asked Sam, trying out a smile on them. “The spell doesn’t work unless someone is speaking.”
Someone in the crowd of helmeted heads said something to that, to which another person responded. A quiet chattering began to fill up the quiet as the guards began to speak to one another.
Perfect. Perfect. We’ll just… hope… this works.
No such thing as a universal translator after all.
“In the mean time, could someone go get the leader of this… place?” asked Sam. Regardless of anything else, he still needed to get food and water for Carissa and Irma.
Beyond that, he needed to find a way to get his hands on a great deal of Essence. He was eager to return home.
Jena knew that he was connected to Inc-Suc and would be actively hunting it. Even right now, she was probably going after his people. Every second he spent here was a waste of time.
Apparently, regardless of him understanding them, the guards understood him. Quite a few of them nodded their heads at his statement. A few replied in the same language that they’d been using.
“Already done, my lord,” someone said in a halting voice. It was in the same form of Demonic that Sam had spoken in.
As if the spell he’d formed needed something to latch onto, or that perhaps the same thing had been said in both language, Sam could suddenly understand quite a bit of what was being said.
Having found success with his spell-work, Sam fed more Essence into it. He wanted to be able to speak to the current denizens of Hell. Right now he was more of an outsider than he’d ever been on the material plane itself.
He hated spending the Essence on something like this, but he didn’t feel like he had a choice.
Sam nodded his head and ran his tongue over his molars. He decided to try speaking in their own tongue. Maybe it would help his spell decipher it.
“Lord?” he asked in their tongue.
Once again there was a number of responses to his question.
“Forgive me, my lord, we know not your name,” said the same individual who’d spoken earlier.
Sam felt a his spell expand rapidly again. It was taking in their responses it seemed and was actively working to build him a lexicon.
Well. This is why I’m a Planar-lord. Essence sorcery contain a great deal of personal ability.
“My name is irrelevant,” said Sam still in their own tongue. Hurrying their way toward him from the village was a young man. He looked to be wearing expensive clothes compared to the rest of everyone around. “Is that your lord?”
Every guard turned their head to look back at the Demon heading their way.
“Yes, my lord. That is our lord, Adam Billingham,” said the same guard.
Adam Billingham? Well. That’s a rather curious name for a Demon.
In fact I’d say it’s downright mortal.
Rushing right up to Sam came the Demon. Upon getting closer he realized that the man must indeed be the local lord.
He wasn’t of the same species of Demon that the guards were made of. He looked to be descended from a Demon-Knight or an Infernal-Imp.
Though Sam was betting on the latter given that he had a build that a Demon-Knight wasn’t likely to get.
He was slightly over-weight with black hair that was swept back across his head. He looked to be of average height though his eyes ran closer to the hazel that most Cambion had. There was a single freckle in one of his eyes that lent itself toward a mixed family heritage.
Hell is… very different.
“Greetings, my lord!” said Adam coming to a stop in front of Sam. He was speaking in what Sam knew as his own tongue though it had a curious Brittish accent to it. It was very likely that his own manner of speech would indeed be “classical latin”. His early mental metaphor might be spot on. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you from… from-from the tower?”
“No,” Sam said, then lifted a hand and pointed toward the manor home. “Would it be alright if we spoke in your home? There are quite a few ears here. Mortal or otherwise.”
As if realizing the situation, Adam glanced behind himself. There were a great number of Humans gathering behind the Demon guards. Trying to get a peek at what was going on.
“Yes! Ah, yes, my lord. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-I-yes, yes,” Adam said, then bowed his head to Sam. Then he began scurrying back to his home.
Sam followed quietly along behind. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about all this. Hell was very different than he remembered.
Far different than even the stories he’d heard from those who’d recently left. Though even that had been before he’d been imprisoned.
Nothing seemed to be what he’d expected at all.
Looking critically at the village as they passed through it, Sam tried to learn all he could. From the material that the homes were made out of, to the clothes they wore, everything looked to be imported from elsewhere.
A great of it looked to be as if it came from a material plane similar in nature to the prime.
Beyond that, he had to confess that it was obvious that these mortals, these humans, were indeed little better than indentured servants. One and all they had the look of being born and bred into servitude.
They all lacked the spark of life that he’d come to expect and love about mortals. There was nothing behind these poor people’s eyes.
Whatever had been there had been beaten, bred, or broken out of them. Likely centuries ago.
From what he could see, they all shared a root genetic stock. One and all they had dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and very fair skin.
“May I ask which Lord of Hell do you serve?” asked Adam after closing the door to the manse behind Sam.
“I serve no-one,” Sam replied smoothly. He had never been part of the politics of Hell. His goal truly had only ever been becoming a planar-lord. “Nor do I know the current situation in Hell.”
While Irma had cautioned him against telling people who he was, Sam felt differently. Hell would always be Hell.
Making sure people knew who you were, what you were capable of, was key. After all, just because he couldn’t open a portal to another plane, that didn’t make him a planar-lord.
Because I became a planar-lord.
Before that, I was an Incubus with a gift, ability, and deep knowledge of Essence-Sorcery. Someone who could hold his own in a fight with a great number of Demons.
Turning on his heel, Sam met the man’s eyes directly.
“My name is Sameerixis Fidenis. You may address me as Sam,” he said neutrally. “I was a lord of Hell before I became a Planar-lord and left. This was millenia ago though, so I would very much doubt you know me at all.
“This is my first time back since I became a Planar-lord. I require information from you. For that, I can repay you in Essence at this time, or in favors in the future.”
Adam didn’t look convinced of what he’d been told. In fact, if anything, he looked like he wanted to attack Sam. If he didn’t serve a lord of Hell, that meant he was an intruder.
An interloper.
“Don’t,” Sam warned, lifting a hand up with a single finger pointed to the sky. “I will end you very quickly. It wouldn’t even be very difficult. It would take, at the very least, a Duke to stand up to me. Though even a Duke probably couldn’t actually defeat me. They’d just be able to escape without me murdering them outright.
“I have no interest in your lands and am just passing through, Adam. You shouldn’t make this worse.”
That was the absolute truth.
Even in his weakened state right now, Sam could battle it out with a Duke of Hell and have a very good chance of winning.
“A… Duke?” asked Adam, his desire to fight vanishing in a second.
“Well, that’s what they were called in my time,” apologized Sam. “I’m not quite sure what they would be referred to as now. A Duke had the power and knowledge to open a plane to elsewhere.”
Adam shook his head slowly. He looked incredibly lost and equally parts shocked.
“No-one can open a plane out of hell anymore,” he said quietly. “No one has for the last one or two hundred years. Not since the Church of One and All sealed the plane itself.”
I… what?
Sealed the plane?
Sam didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Explain it to me,” he demanded. “In detail.”
***
From what Adam explained to Sam, it was extremely common knowledge that Hell was sealed to itself. Everyone believe it was all due to the Church of One and All.
That the enemies of Hell had finally succeeded in closing it off from everywhere else. That the only ones who were fortunate enough to leave the plane, were those who were summoned off plane.
It did explain why he hadn’t actually met anyone from Hell since he’d escaped his own prison. That no one had even come from it at all, was that it was completely isolated.
Having collected the information, food, and water, Sam had paid Adam in Essence. To which the young-lord was rather thankful.
Essence generation wasn’t very common in Hell to begin with when Sam had been around. Now it was incredibly rare, as those who could leave Hell, did their best to stay away.
Though with no planes opening, that meant that only those who could be summoned before the closure, had a chance to be summoned after. There would be no infernal knowledge gleaned by Warlocks, Witches, or Necromancer’s who weren’t given planar summoning diagrams by others.
“And that’s the situation,” Sam finished, explaining everything back to Irma and Carissa.
The two women had spent most of the conversation eating, drinking, and then asking questions. They were now in the process of turning their jackets into sacks to carry the rest of their provisions in.
Sam of course didn’t need anything but sex and his body was well suited for Hell. It also meant he’d be the one carrying everything. It would be far less taxing for him to do so.
“In other words,” Irma said, looking up from the knap-sack made out of her jacket. “We have to wait for Aster and Jes to summon you back, but only after this… spell… fades from around you.”
“Exactly right,” said Sam. “But that assumes that they can summon me back. Jena’s spell that was blocking me from opening planes to other locations did feel like it would prevent summoning as well.
“From the feel of that spell, it felt as it covered the entirety of the country. Resonating out from set points almost like radio-towers.”
Carissa sighed and then growled. She seemed rather perturbed at their situation.
“I need a weapon,” she said finally. “If we’re going to be stuck here, I need a weapon. Irma has Essence-Sorcery, you are yourself, and I am unarmed.
“I must have a weapon so that I do not drag our group down. We’ll be dependent on one another until we figure a way out of Hell.”
Sam couldn’t argue that point. She was right.
“I’ll barter with Adam for equipment. He seemed rather keen on receiving Essence as payment,” Sam said. “I’ll ask him for more information and what’s nearby.
“Honestly, Hell isn’t what it used to be at all. It seems more like feudal Europe, now. I don’t think my earlier explanation would be very useful. At least in regards to territories dominated in an animal like fashion.
“I think everyone is more hunkering down into try and living as if Hell were a crap-sack version of the prime plane. They were even growing crops.”
Irma nodded her head, squared her shoulders, then clapped her hands together once. The pop of her palms together seemed to break a tension he hadn’t realized was building.
“So be it. Then we’ll just have to survive, adapt, and overcome,” she said definitively. “That manes we need to gather resources and information.
“From there, we can make our first move. Which is clearly finding a large settlement and doing what we must.
“I think we’re most at risk being out here where we are, than we would be in a city or large village. Thoughts?”
Thinking about it, Sam couldn’t help but agree with her. They would very likely do better in a village or a city. If they could get a property or a home purchased, he could secure the two of them inside.
Then work at trying to figure out a way for them to get out of Hell. Which meant talking or dealing with the Lords of Hell directly.
“Alright, since no one has anything to add, I’ll go first,” said Irma who leaned back and began to shimmy out of her leggings. “I need you to gorge yourself on me, Sammy. Then on Carissa, then on me again, and back to her. Until you’re all full, or we can’t handle you anymore. We’ll do that for a few days until the supplies you brought back run out.
“Because if Essence is our coin, we need to fill your purse, and that means filling up my and Carissa’s purse. As much as we can.”
Irma spread her legs apart, put her hands on her knees and smiled at him in the dark. He didn’t think she could see anything, but that didn’t seem to stop her from clearly finding what enjoyment in the situation she could.
“Well?” she asked after a few seconds passed. “I’m waiting.”
Comments
Nukin Futs
I'm just hoping for Sam's first idiot-plan, and how successful the backfire will be.
William D. Arand
You assume much. :D You know how I get when people think they understand what's going on.
Nicholas Donovan
While kinda anti climatic in the knowledge that at least sam escapes, the adventure while knowing the destination is still worth the discovery. I am interested in what actually happened, though, as it seems unlikely the church would have succeeded in containing hell. If my guess is even close Ryker, let alone Runner, would have had a backup door for letting them out, I Still think Zeus has his sticky fingers in more than one pie directly or indirectly.
