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Sep 1, 2023

Training from Hell

This story is a follow-up to What Am I? and details what happened to Julius afterwards.

Julius Leroung stood in the small chapel of his estate, his fingers locked around the handle of a ruby knife. Slowly and meticulously, he traced the shape of a pentagram across his chest with its blade, letting the blood pour into a bowl he was holding with the other hand.

He had long gotten used to the feeling, even if cutting his skin had become notably harder since his transformation. It was a devotional ritual, of servitude and loyalty to his deity. It was proof of the power that his god had over him, an obligation and a sacrifice to those higher in the hierarchy than himself. A reaffirmation of the ladder of power. Julius knew plenty of his fellow believers who preferred to harness the blood from those they in turn had power over. But during his travels, the paracount had realised that despite being the leader, he couldn't honestly say that he considered his fellow expeditionaries to be lower than him. He was just another part, one that functioned in tandem with the others. To claim superiority would be a hollow lie.

And so, he had instead turned to a display of his own servitude to his deity rather than display his powers over others. In the end, he had gotten used to it, even starting to consider it a more humble and pious display. And given that he was planning on cashing in favours owed from Hell, reaffirming his own position in its hierarchy seemed prudent.

Dipping a finger in the blood, he drew a pentagram on the stone floor, following the lines of dried blood from earlier rituals. The sigil complete, he kneeled within it, focusing his thoughts on what he could do to serve his god.

The answer was obvious to the cleric. He'd best Ironhide and return home from a successful expedition. He'd bring honour and glory to his country, and through that, to Asmodeus. Part of him was uncertain whether that would truly be the upcoming journey, but he knew that doubt could not be allowed to shake him. He knew his Dark Lord must have a plan for him and that his setbacks had to have taught him a lesson. Certainly, it had been humbling. But he could also not deny that it had made him and the others stronger. Especially with his new draconic traits coming to the forefront.

And it was those traits he had to master if he were to have a chance. That was why he needed a teacher who would be able to push him to develop, faster and more successfully than any mortal could.

Fortunately, one advantage of his servitude was that he was occasionally rewarded with promises of future favours rendered. In this case, Julius had launched an expedition into the south purely on orders from the other side, in the process finding an ancient ruin nobody had discovered for centuries. The place was still being slowly investigated, due to a variety of local issues, but for finding it Julius had been promised aid should he ever need it.

And now he did.

With his thoughts focused, he reached out to a nearby table and grabbed a piece of paper from it. It was the precise contract he had signed back then, dense red text covering the piece from top to bottom. He held it aloft and loudly stated: “I, Julius Leroung, hereby call upon the favour I have been promised for service rendered. I call upon the gates of Hell, that I might seek the recompense that I am due. Open to me and take me to the infernal circles.” There was a tense moment of silence. And then a rumble, as a sulphuric smell spread through the room. Suddenly, crimson flames exploded in front of him, enveloping the altar.

He did not move, his draconic eyes allowing him to stare into the roiling flames without issue.

A shape bulged up from the ground, splitting open like a mouth, revealing a pulsating tunnel.

A hellgate.

Without hesitating, he put his shirt and jacket back on, before stepping in the glowing opening, sliding down the exposed passageway.

Around him, a multitude of colours passed him by as he passed from his own world into the realm of Hell, moving at great speed through the softly pulsing tunnel.

He'd never admit it, but this part was kinda fun.

Finally after he knew not how long, an opening presented itself and he slid out, landing on his feet on a soft purple carpet.

He looked around. It was a stately room, richly decorated with fine sofas, elaborate brass chandeliers and a long front desk. Several other beings of various natures sat around the room, seemingly waiting, while behind the desk hovered two devils, their upper bodies humanoid and their lower a cage of tentacles.

The cleric went over to a nearby ticket dispenser and drew a number. Then he sat down in one of the sofas, picked up a nearby magazine and began waiting.

...

Julius was unsure how much time had passed. There was no clocks, and even if there had been, he could hardly expect time in Hell to correspond perfectly with his homeland. A big window did afford him a view of the near endless infernal metropolis of Dis, but that didn't give him much of an idea either. Once his number had come up, he had quickly been by the desk to give his name and purpose for being there, before being asked to return to his seat.

He had to be armed with patience. But he was also far from bored. The stack of magazines covered a broad array of topics, from news to fashion to cooking. He was hardly interested in all of them, but it was a good way to pass time. Free cold water was dispensed from a nearby brass contraption and a bowl provided an array of exotic fruits without ever seemingly running out.

“Mr. Leroung,” one of the devils behind the desk said, looking up from her computer. “Mr. Larc will see you now. Down the hall to the right, fifth office on the left.”

“Thank you,” he responded and exited the waiting room. Beyond was a long carpeted hallway, pictures of infernal bureaucrats of note decorating the walls in-between doors. From some of the doors, soft mumbling and the clinking of glass could be heard. From others, far more visceral and wild sounds could be heard, muted by the solid doors.

Negotiations took many forms in Hell.

Finding the correct door, the paracount headed inside.

The office behind the door was a mid-sized one, with a prominent bookshelf in one end, several filing cabinets and a big desk with chairs surrounding it. Behind the desk in an imposing chair sat the devil Larc Chalice, an androgynous red-skinned humanoid in a business suit. From his back stretched several black appendages that looked much like horns, but which occasionally moved around with a faint creaking sound. “Mr. Julius Leroung,” they greeted the cleric, as he took a seat on the other side of the table. “Welcome. How has your day been?” “Just fine,” he replied.

“I hear that you have had some difficulties at home due to your new personal development. You have my sympathies,” Larc noted.

“Yes, it's been.... Challenging,” the half-dragon admitted. “But despite my concerns, Her Majestrix has chosen to retain all my services.”

“Good to hear. Now then, you were requesting recompense for a favour you did for us, yes?” the devil tapped something on his keyboard. A nearby brass printer spewed a strip of scroll paper out, which was quickly plugged by one of the fiend's long appendages. “For performing an archaeological expedition. How was that?” “A fascinating find. And quite a dangerous one,” Julius remarked. “Full canvassing of the ruins has not yet been accomplished due to numerous difficulties. Though I confess a slight curiosity as to why you wanted me to do this.”

“We trust that shall be clear in due time. You will be returning to that place, no doubt.” “I see.” The paracount furrowed his brows, but did not press the issue. If he was not to know at this point, then that was how it was.

“Now then, you were offered a favour, which you have now come to call upon,” Larc continued, studying the paper. “You have read and understood our terms of service, yes?” “Of course. Including following the reference to Entry XXIII of the chapter Favour to Greater Beings from the Codex Contractus Infernos,” Julius noted. “I am well aware of the limitations on what I can ask for. And what I have in mind is well within those limits.” “Good. So, what do you have in mind?” “I need a teacher.” “Interesting.” Larc rubbed their chin. “I imagine you have something specific in mind.” “Yes. I believe I can harness these new draconic powers of mine to best certain... Rivals I have acquired over my career.” Two puffs of smoke escaped his nose, as his mind turned to thoughts of Ironhide. “So I need a teacher who can competently teach me those skills within a relatively short timeframe. Already my team is heading out on our next expedition and that... Infuriating bloated skink of a dragon will be there.” “I see. Do you imagine that you could complete such training before you will have to return?” Larc inquired.

The cleric paused. “No,” he admitted. “No, I do not. But I imagine I could get a comprehensive start and then... I'll have to take it from there.” “I see. Well, Mr. Leroung, your request is fully within our stipulations. I shall have the request sent and we'll find someone available for you before long,” Larc noted, as he turned towards his computer. “You'll be allowed seating in waiting room 43B until the message goes through. Go left out of the door, first corridor on the right, three floors down and then thirteenth door to the left.”

...

The inner waiting rooms, or at least the one Julius found himself directed to, was notably better furnished than the first one. A large table with carved chairs surrounding it, a massive bookshelf with reading on various subjects, a huge television screen with numerous entertainment devices hooked up to it, a big sofa with a marshmallow softness to it and several large plates and cups that would on command conjure whatever food and drinks one could desire.

The human couldn't help but feel slightly important at being allowed to wait in such a seemingly prestigious location, though he held no illusions that furnishing such a place would barely even qualify as an expenditure for the city given Hell's riches.

He passed the time with ease, digging into the numerous tomes, focusing on history and other such subjects. They were all pertaining to his home planet, which Julius suspected was intentional. Much of it was supremely detailed, with personal accounts from civilizations that had long faded into dust and ruin. Each book provided more true insight into the past than any one of his own expeditions. In truth, if Hell wanted they could probably supply a complete overview of the past, enough to render him out of work. But the infernal forces had no interest in coddling their servants and spoon-feeding them the truth, when instead people like Julius could prove themselves by digging it up. And he was also pretty sure that the collection was curated with this in mind. Still, he noted several things he'd keep in mind when examining certain structures in the future.

He was ripped out of a particular account of Azlanti naval technology when suddenly crimson flames engulfed one of the walls, as it yawned open to reveal another long passage.

He entered without hesitation and let himself be swallowed up by it, sliding through the inner workings of Hell to wherever he was now destined to end up.

Moments later, he was deposited in a grand room, almost temple like with massive obsidian pillars holding up the roof, open braziers filled with hellfire providing dim light and statues of fiendish warriors decorating niches in the walls.

In the middle of the room, currently lying while observing the newly arrived human on a pile of silken pillows, was a feline creature. It looked much like a sabre-toothed tiger, but its flesh was a transparent, glowing yellow mass, allowing its orange skeleton to be seen.

Julius paused only briefly to take in the sight before bowing.

“I am Vilmanath,” the hellcat informed him. “Your request for a teacher in the martial arts has been passed to me and it is therefore my duty to see that you are rewarded with the intense training that you desire. This is my monastery and as my pupil, you will refer to me as Master Vilmanath. Is that understood?” “Clearly, Master Vilmanath,” the cleric echoed, bowing again for emphasis.

“Good. I shall be instructing you in the arts of harnessing the powers of your body. As will my co-teacher.” Julius raised an eyebrow.

“It was believed that the breadth of education needed would require more than my expertise, so a second teacher were to be called up.” The hellcat idly scratched his chin with a sharp claw. “Though intriguingly, she decided to take the post before we could even think of assigning anyone else to it. You are fortunate, my student. Normally, to earn the right of her attention would take far greater service than what you have provided. But as she herself chose to take the job, well... I present to you your second teacher, Nashandra.”

Having waited for this moment, the teacher in question chose that exact moment to strut out from where she had been waiting and Julius immediately found himself thoroughly distracted by her.

For one thing, when he had heard the name and the importance she held, he had suspected her identity. Nashandra was hardly an uncommon name, even in Hell, but Julius was aware of one particular fiend by that name, even if her presence here would be mystifying to him to say the least. But seeing her confirmed that she was indeed the infamous granddaughter of his chosen deity. Black, leathery skin stretched over athletic muscles, a long tail swished behind her and large ears and a small nose gave her face bat-like characteristics. All these traits identified her as a nabasu. But where she stood apart were two curved horns, one of which was broken and her six wings. A pair of white feathery wings, a skeletal pair enveloped in flames and a pair of leathery, dragon-like ones. All marks of her exalted ancestry.

The second thing that threw Julius off was her skimpy dress. Not to say that the cleric wasn't used to seeing people in clothing so skimpy it almost seemed pointless. Certainly, there were always a fair share of men and women at official events looking to score themselves a benefactor and displaying themselves to aid their cause. And while that could be quite interesting, Julius had the composure and dignity not to be taken in by such base and cheap manipulations. Even showing up in a thin one-piece bikini was not too surprising, even from a royal fiend. No, what truly threw him off was that it seemed composed of metallic hooks, which he suspected were made of cold iron. And they were pointed inwards, digging into her skin and flesh, all the way from her neck to her genitals, the last part in particular made the cleric wince internally.

The trails of blood also made it quite obvious that this was no mere trick. Yet despite wearing such a ghastly piece of clothing, she moved as if it wasn't there at all.

“Hey, Julius,” she greeted him, holding out her hand, which the dumbfounded cleric limply took. “I'll be your teacher here. See if we can't get those new draconic instincts working.” “I... See,” he replied. “When do... We...” He paused, feeling an uncomfortable pain in his midsection. Looking down, he started realising that Nashandra had used her other hand to casually slip a ruby dagger between his ribs.

“We started five seconds ago,” she continued casually, withdrawing the weapon and letting the human crumble to the floor. “First thing's first, don't expect your enemies to ever give you a fair warning.” Julius gurgled in agony.

“Don't worry, this place is enchanted to fix you right up.” She paused, as the ambient magic healed him. “See. You'll be fine. In pain, but fine.”

“I.. See,” he noted shakily, getting back on his feet. He let his hand brush over the hole in his shirt, where the knife had slipped through.

“So, learnt something?” she inquired with a smile. “I think... So...” Julius looked down again. While replying, she had once more stabbed him.

“That would be a no then,” she remarked, as he collapsed again. “Second, don't expect timeouts just because things are hard.” She turned to Vilmanath. “Well, that should do for my first lesson. See you later.” And then she walked off.

The hellcat looked to the cleric, as he slowly forced himself back up. “Do not expect my teachings to be any gentler, my student,” he warned him. “So, are you sure this is the path you want to follow?” Julius took a deep breath, as he composed himself. “Yes, Master Vilmanath.”

“Then we shall start with a simple meditative exercise to make you more aware of your body. You can perform it in your assigned room. Follow me.”

...

When Julius had heard the words meditative exercise, he had imagined something akin to what he did as part of his clerical rituals, calmly focusing on a mental exercise meant to bring him in balance with the divine.

This was not what Vilmanath had meant.

Julius had been assigned a simple room, with a cot, a shelf and a desk. The hellcat had pointed to a stack of papers, briefly gone over a few notes and then left him to try them out in peace. So now the cleric was slowly crab walking from one end of the room to another, feeling the ache in his limbs from the unusual strain on them.

According to his new teacher, the point was to strain different parts of his body to force Julius to develop a constant awareness of his body's position, which would be necessary to further his development. The cleric trusted this to be true, even as he felt somewhat silly.

The door to his room popped open and Nashandra poked her head in. “Hey,” she said. “How's it going?” “Slowly. This is a... Inefficient method of moving,” he grunted.

“Trust me, give this enough time and you'll be able to move in any position,” she noted with a grin. “If you think you can stick with us for that long.” “I will. I intend to finish my training no matter what,” he responded in a strained voice. He paused, before slowly getting up with support from his bed. “May I ask a question?” “Of course you can ask a question,” she replied, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the door frame. “Listen, Julius, I like keeping things casual. You don't need to be such a stick in the mud around me.” He paused. “I... Well, okay, I'll try,” he noted. “So, my question is, why are you here?” “I'm here to train you.” “Well, yes, I know that. What I meant was, why would you personally decide to train me?” He scratched the back of his head. “As Master Vilmanath said, getting the aid of someone like you is... Beyond anything I've earned.” “Well, yeah. But I personally asked to be allowed to step in once I noticed your request coming through the system.” She smiled. “And very few people can say no to me.”

“Yes, but why?” “Well, as you know, we here in Hell have a vested interest in your country, as a legitimized political representative of infernal influence if you want some technical terms thrown in,” she explained. “But let's be honest for one second here, many of your fellow nobles think you lot pulled a fast one on us and came out of this as the big gold medal winners, complete with a fucking trophy and everything. Often acting as if Hell serves you. It's gonna bite you all in the ass one day soon. Real hard.” “That is true, I'm sorry to say,” Julius admitted. “Far too many thinks that the terms of the contract renders us immune.” She folded her arms. “But you know the truth, don't you? If anyone can find a way around a contract to hit where it hurts, it's Hell. And boy, your country. You've done some stupid shit. Especially after that little stunt with the pit fiend blew open last year.” “Yes. Technically legal, of course, but in poor taste,” the cleric noted.

“And I was there, personally aiding in his breakout. He was not happy, no siree,” she noted. “And he has petitioned our highest courts for actions to be taken against you lot.” She looked to the ceiling, briefly lost to imagination .”Boy, will there ever be some fireworks when that finally happens.” “And I presume that even if I asked, you wouldn't tell me anything about what's happening,” he remarked.

“Of course not. Where would the fun be in that?” “Figures. But that doesn't explain why you'd teach me.”

“Because you're smarter than most of them. At least, smart enough to know your place. No illusions there, just loyal servitude.” She stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder. “I think your country would benefit from more people like you. But that requires you to stay alive, so if I can help with that, I will.” “Oh. Thanks. That's really... Nice... Of...” Julius slowly paused and looked down. He had been stabbed by her again.

“By the way, if you keep falling for this, you won't survive for long,” she noted, letting him fall to the floor. “Just saying. Anyway, I'll see you later.” Julius gurgled a pained farewell as she left him to recover.

...

Training with Vilmanath consisted, broadly speaking, of two things. One was the slow and deliberate training of specific moves and manoeuvrers, designed to teach Julius the most effective ways his body could be used as a weapon.

The other was applying those moves. In an actual battle. Against Vilmanath himself.

It was for this reason that Julius now found himself lying on his stomach, watching through pained tears how the healing magic of the place kindly dragged his jaw back towards him so it could be reattached. He felt a soft click as the bones re-socketed and the surrounding tissue knitted itself together.

“Get back up. We're not done,” came Vilmanath's voice from nearby.

With a grunt of exertion, Julius got back into position. The braziers blazed brightly, illuminating the pillared room fully. Unfortunately, this was no advantage, as the bright light rendered the hellcat invisible. This was all part of an exercise to attune his senses and his movements, allowing him to react to attacks he could not see.

Which at the moment translated to him standing around nervously, only to be gruesomely battered about by a giant devil cat that he couldn't see, usually earning what would be a fatal wound if the healing wasn't so effective.

He took a deep breath and concentrated, trying to hear or smell the presence of his teacher. But the hellcat's padded feet made him very quiet and everything in the room smelled like brimstone thanks to the braziers. So very little besides being gutted would reveal Vilmanath's position. And Julius didn't need instructions to figure out that any manoeuvrer that relied on one getting skewered by the enemy only worked if you could recover from that.

He closed his eyes, trying to detect something, anything.

For a moment, he thought he had something. Then he definitely felt something, that something being the pain of having his stomach cut open by sharp claws, as Vilmanath slashed him again. The cleric stumbled back, trying to keep his insides inside, before his stomach healed up again.

“Concentrate,” the fiend informed him, before falling quiet.

The human took a deep breath and tried to focus. He had asked for intense training and neither of his teachers were pulling any punches. He was truly in the deep end. But there had been something. Just before the pain. He concentrated, focusing not on his sight, hearing or smell. But on the feelings of his body.

Of the displaced air washing over his skin.

He made a quick motion, trying to block an incoming swipe with his arm.

And stumbled back with the now wounded appendage, four deep gouges carved into it, the scratched bone of his arm briefly showing before the injury began healing.

“Better. You reacted,” his teacher noted. “Your entire body is a sensory organ and you must learn to listen to it. If you can master this, you can learn not only to sense incoming attacks, but also know whether that is an attack to block or dodge.” He paused. “In this case, blocking was the wrong option.” “So I noticed,” the cleric hissed, rubbing his newly healed arm.

“Now, again.” The human was unsure how long he spent in that chamber. Even when he tried to dodge, he'd often end up with a new series of slashes across his skin and his blocks often ended with lost limbs having to come rolling back to him like a dog returning with a stick.

But slowly, Julius began to be able to just feel the incoming attack, even if his ability to deal with them was far from efficient.

...

There was a meaty thwack as Julius collided with another pillar and proceeded to plummet three meters in order greet the stone floor face first. He lay briefly in a crumbled heap of broken bones, until the healing magic realigned his everything.

“Blasted things,” he hoarsely cursed, as he got back up. “How do dragons make it look so easy?” “Because they're born with wings,” Nashandra remarked, swooping past him. “Written into their brains and souls how it works. If you ever had anything like that, well, probably atrophied in your youth, what with you not having wings back then. If you're lucky, you'll awaken your instincts and it will just click.” “And if I'm unlucky?” “Then you'll get really familiar with the feeling of breaking your neck.” “Figures.” The cleric looked up at the rings the nabasu had arranged for him to fly through. Although even he had to admit that currently, flight was too charitable a term. Flailing through the air swinging his limbs like he had ants crawling up his back would probably more accurately summarize what he was currently capable of.

“Maybe we should take a break from that,” Nashandra suggested.

“I thought there weren't breaks here.” “There aren't. But you're getting frustrated and that's not going to do your flying any good.” She gestured to a nearby set of target dummies. “Let's practice fire breathing. Frustration will help you there.” Julius eyed them. “How so?”

“Dragons are emotional creatures and their emotions are often linked to their powers. Surely you have noticed by now. Whenever your temper starts to boil, you get all fired up. Literally.” She landed next to him. “What you need to do is focus that energy inside you, breathe in and then exhale it.”

“Sounds simple,” Julius remarked. “I assume it isn't.” “Well, depends on what you mean. But for now, let's see you do it.” She leaned against one of the nearby braziers, letting its red hot decorations dig into her back. “Go on.”

Julius returned his attention to the targets. He tried to focus on the frustration his lack of success with flying had awoken in him. Then he inhaled and exhaled. And then he began coughing, a few puffs of black smoke exiting from his mouth.

“Well... It was something,” the nabasu remarked.

The half-dragon tried a few more times, with similar results.

“Hmm, let's try this from another angle,” she suggested to a wheezing Julius. “What are you focusing on?” “My frustration,” he hoarsely replied.

“I don't think that's gonna cut it,” she noted. “No. Not at all. See, your problem is you're way too damn compliant. We tell you this will be hard and you just roll over and accept it. Expect it, even. So you can only get so frustrated because failure is exactly what you'd expect to happen when you throw a clergyman with noodle arms into a battle arena and expect him to do backflips.” She paused. “See, I'm insulting you and you're not even getting that mad because it is actually true. What kind of dragon would act like that?” “I mean... I would maybe not exactly describe myself as weak,” he remarked, rubbing his arms with a hint of wounded pride. “But compared to what I am aiming for, yes, I am somewhat underdeveloped.” “You know who has a well-developed body though? Ironhide,” Nashandra informed him.

Julius stiffened notably. “I... Don't see why he needs to be brought into this.” “Well, you two keep running into each other,” she noted. “And you keep failing to defeat him. So, you know, comparisons are natural.” The cleric's hands clenched. “I am trying to fix that,” he tersely noted, his draconic eyes glowing like embers.

“You know, maybe you should just go home and send him here instead. I'm sure he'd do really well.” “I WILL NOT BE REPLACED BY THAT BELLOWING RED CLUMP!” Julius yelled, his skin turning a shade to match his scales. “NOT NOW! NOT EVER!” “Awesome. Breathe fire. Now,” Nashandra instructed.

Julius paused for a second before quickly turning to the dummy, inhaling and exhaling as instructed.

And then he was knocked on his back as the pressure of the spray of flames overwhelmed him, the stream of fire shooting into the air as the elemental breath died down.

“See, that's the part that makes it complicated,” Nashandra informed the gasping Julius. “Four legs really help stabilizing.” “I... See,” he croaked.

...

Julius felt sweat rain from his forehead in big drops, as he kept attacking the training dummy in front of him, constantly switching which limb to strike with.

“You must kick harder, my student,” Vilmanath informed him, his softly glowing body visible in the dimmer light. “A dainty attack like that is only giving your enemy a break and an opening. You need to be relentless with your strikes.”

Julius kept pummelling his artificial opponent, trying to absorb and apply the instructions. He had lost all sense of time, his life now divided between training sessions and the breaks he were afforded both to rest and attend his mortal needs. He could no longer honestly say how long he had been there, his inner clock completely set out by the alien nature of Hell, the isolation and loose schedule his teachers operated by. The fact that there were all alone in the temple, which seemingly had no exits at all, only served to enhance the feeling of isolation.

There was nothing but the three of them and the temple. It allowed for a form of focus the half-dragon had never experienced before, an almost feverish one where the entire rest of the world had faded into nothing but mist. The only thing preventing him from suspecting that years were quietly rolling by were that he would need to return to the expedition at some point before that much time could pass.

“Hey, Julius,” Nashandra called, as she entered the room. “You team will be setting up base camp soon, so we're sending you back home to join up with them.” “Oh?” he responded, as he ceased attacking the dummy. “I see.” He paused. “When shall I return?” “Whenever you feel your duties on the Material Plane have been settled,” Vilmanath informed him, getting up and stretching his back, finishing his sentence with a toothy yawn. “Then you may call upon us again and you shall return here until your duties draw you back to the Material Plane. Or that your training is completed.” He sounded almost bemused as he added: “Which will not be anytime soon. Nevertheless, you have made much progress already. I look forward to hearing how you find your skills to work in life.” “And hey, if things go really wrong, you'll just move into Hell permanently,” Nashandra noted.

“Yes. I'm aware that this is my soul's destination,” he remarked. “But still, I have duties in life I need to attend to. I thank you for your time, Master Vilmanath, and you too, Nashandra.” “You're welcome,” the nabasu noted, padding him on the back.

Reflexively, Julius grabbed her wrist, barely keeping the knife from fully sinking into his body.

“And you're getting faster. Only halfway in this time,” she noted, retracting the weapon to let the pained human heal. “Anyway, a hellgate will take you back.”

As she said that, there was a flash of flames, as a yawning maw opened up in one of the walls.

Julius bowed to the two and headed inside, vanishing from sight as the hellgate closed.

The two fiends watched where the half-dragon had been.

“He's not ready,” Nashandra noted. “Not by a long shot.”

“Of course not,” Vilmanath noted, lying back down. “And he knows it. But it will be valuable experience none the less.” He eyed her. “So, what are your plans for him?”

“Well... He'll be a useful piece later on. We intend to teach Cheliax a lesson they won't soon forget,” Nashandra remarked. “But we don't want things to completely collapse so, you know, people like him will be valuable.”

“And you think he'll be strong enough when the time comes?” “Dunno. That's up to him. But if he needs help, well...” She grinned viciously. “We'll be ready to help him.”

#story #pathfinder #hell #hellcat #nabasu

weavercobra