Not too long ago, after a certain Mark /Omnitell...
The ceremony was progressing nicely. The priests were chanting, the sacrifice of hapless peasants was completed, the blood-filled pentagram was burning, and the Calling was nearing completion.
The Portal was forming slowly but surely. The faithful prayed in ecstasy as a shadow appeared in it, the devil arriving that would help lead them in their quiet grasping for power in the Eastern Kingdom. A slender clawed hand, bones and muscles not set like a human, extended out of the opening as the Caelixcriai started coming through...
There was a crunching sound, and something seemed to grab the devil from behind. Both visible hands twitched, and were abruptly hauled back into the Portal. The ecstatic calls and prayers began to falter uncertainly as the conspirators, Hellbound, and Hellpriests stared at the hole to Hell before them.
The motion beyond surged, and before the hole could close, two large forms jumped through it, skidding across the pentagram before coming to a halt.
They were Hell Hounds, that was perfectly obvious, and big ones. The one on the right was tall and broad-chested, scarred by many battles, his fur black as pitch, with hellfire eyes and saliva dripping like lava. He was munching on a familiar arm casually as he looked over the assembled humans with burning eyes, dark smoke rising from his nostrils.
Looking rather out of place, an odd symbol that was asymmetrically Not Diabolic glowed on the black hound’s forehead, white around lines of black.
The other hound was just as large, but with cold, icy blue-white eyes burning hellrime, every puff of breath making carbon dioxide condense into snow. She – they could only picture her as a she – was also idly crunching on a familiar arm, flash-frozen in her jaws and shattering as she chewed on it.
She had that weird symbol on her forehead, too.
The two hellhounds glanced at one another, then back at the stupefied conspirators there.
They swallowed the arms of a certain devil who had been about to be Called to the Material Plane, said destination they had been very interested in reaching. They had addressed his objections, and he wouldn’t be contesting their taking his place.
Together, they stepped forwards, bending their heads slightly, and the Marks on their heads flared with a very un-Hellish light.
Which was really, really not a good thing when your Summoning Pentagram is made to stop diabolics.
The invisible seal of the pentagram went out with a poof, the bloody sacrificial flames were quenched, and the two hell hounds stepped out.
Someone started to panic, and then the two hell hounds opened their jaws and let out a One-Two.
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The building was in flames, and a lot of sinister souls went wafting off to Hell, which was perfectly happy to see them now instead of later. The two great beasts, six feet high at the shoulder, moved through the city’s night with deceptive speed and stealth. Nobody wanted to mess with them, and they didn’t bother with anyone out that late, most of whom were drunk and thought two horses had gotten loose.
The white one found a length of rope hanging out, and they raced towards the city walls with it; the gates were closed and would take too much time to blast open. The black one reared up high against the stone, the white one ran right up his backside and scrabbled to the battlement overhead. She turned and let down the rope, which he gripped firmly in his jaws, tensing.
The white one leapt over the outside battlements, still holding onto the rope, and as it pulled taut, the black one sprang, easily reaching the top of the battlements as the white one hit the ground. Without any hesitation, he scrabbled over the lip and jumped down after her, hitting the ground without any problem.
The guard on duty in the tower blinked at the sight of two huge dogs using a rope to get over the city wall, shook his head, and decided that reporting this could wait until he was sure he wouldn’t be judged drunk while on duty. Besides, the fire burning over in the warehouse district was more eye-catching, no one wanted to hear a story about giant dogs...
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There were a lot of miles between where they came in and where they needed to go. Thankfully, the two of them had a Map right there, telling them where they were and where they needed to go. They were also hounds, made for endurance hunting, and so running for hours and hours wasn’t all that difficult, especially with otherworldly physiques that meant they didn’t have to worry about mortal weaknesses like eating or drinking.
Occasionally they stopped to rest, nuzzling gently as they did, steam popping as they touched carefully, taking care not to injure one another. Nothing in the forests and open fields they were traveling through wanted to bother them, and as for the humans who saw them from a distance, they didn’t want to mess with them, either.
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They were heading north.
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The Northmarch of the Empire of Rosencruz was separated from the Feral East by the great river called the Feralbar. It formed a convenient wall against the savage tribes further east, and was a clear demarcation between the Rose of the Empire’s Center and the Northmarch. It was also a couple of miles wide by then, and nothing that a non-aquatic beast wanted to swim. Although they’d seen the Styx and weren’t impressed by any kind of mortal terrain, the hounds both turned up their noses as the river came into view.
Thankfully, it wasn’t something they had to worry about.
Sergeant Oshken was an archer and a hunter, with years of patrolling the borders of the kingdom looking for Feral incursions and smugglers alike. Naturally, taking a boat across the Feralbar wasn’t all that difficult for him, and he just paddled his canoe up to a convenient spot and waited.
The forest going very suddenly silent was all the alert he needed, even if he couldn’t track them coming. The Hell-born Aura of the two arrivals was more than enough to terrify any normal animal, and no magical one would want to deal with them if the pair were just passing through on their way to elsewhere.
You just didn’t mess with Nessian and Canian Warhounds without a REALLY good reason.
Seeing the two of them trotting out of the forest, the plants unlucky enough to touch them smoldering or freezing, the grizzled hunter snapped to attention, and saluted them.
“Captain Fido! Captain Shirley!” he greeted them enthusiastically. The two hellhounds, towering over him, nodded in recognition, coming up to sniff him with great interest, comparing memory of dreams with the reality before them. “It’s good to see you again, sirs!” He took a deep breath, looking up at the magnificent, ferocious images of the dogs before him. So many battles, that fire and frost saving so many men, ferocious jaws defending them as arrows drove into those beyond them.
Fido woofed, sounding more like an iron ball dragged over gratings than anything else, but Sergeant Oshken just smiled. He fished out two bottles from the purse at his side, holding them up. “Water Walking. Get you across this river with no problems.”
He popped off the seals and held them up carefully to the two hounds. Black and white teeth that could rend steel took them delicately, and the hounds’ heads tilted all the way up to send the liquid down their throats, popping and crackling respectively. They shook the vials once, lowered them back down, and deposited them back into his hands as blue lights swirled about their feet.
“You got your path down, sirs, it’s wide open to you.” He waved at the flowing expanse of water behind him.
Shirley woofed, eyeing his boat. “Aye, I’ve got to get back across. Oh, certainly!” he blinked. Laughing, he headed down to his boat, and the two hellhounds paced after him with disconcerting lightness. He unwound the mooring rope, ran it through the ring at the front of his boat, and held up the two ends. Their jaws came down carefully on the ropes, and Sergeant Oshken held on as his little boat was dragged about. The two dogs easily hauled it across the waters between them as they pawed confidently across the moving waves, every step hissing with steam or crackling with frost.
Very quickly, they picked up speed, and the sergeant whooped as his boat began to hydroplane and really fly across the water.
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The ends of the rope were charred away and dissolved to specks of ice as his boat coasted the last few yards to shore. The two hellhounds looked at him, and he waved them off. “I’d join you if I could, sirs, but the Sage wants me here, who knows why.” He gave them a knowing wink, and they both woofed understanding. “Give the Warp some Hell, sirs!”
They favored him with a tail wag as they headed out, and although they wanted to bay eagerly that they were coming, they were also aware that might attract a lot of unwanted attention, and so didn’t bother.
They’d had their pride beaten out of them in Dream, dying so many times, to so many things. Never in Hell did you find people friendly and wishing you well.
The choice between staying in Hell or coming back to Sage Sama was never in doubt. In Hell, they were just two nameless hellhounds.
In the mortal world, they were the Fire and Ice of the Ironblood, Captains Fido and Shirley, the Hellpoodles of Sage Sama!
Ah, to Heaven with it...
Both of them bayed excitedly, picking up their pace, and the forest for miles around emptied out when it heard them calling.
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Word had been sent ahead in various places. Bridges were crossed in the dark of night, rivers were swum, trails were followed along deep and winding paths.
At last, they reached the caravan trail winding along the edge of the Sidhete, and paced along it.
Much of the traffic was taken up by hynfolk, who were a bit astonished as the great black and white dogs loped on by, but certain of the guards on patrol just waved at the hounds and watched them go past.
Of those warriors and holy folk that were moving, some disguised as pilgrims, others as crusaders going to fight a holy cause... the hellhounds circled past them, having no desire to start a conflict.
Word had been long left with the Borderguard and the Rangers, who simply stood aside and let them pass without comment.
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There was one minor incident where an Auric Lion had come out of the Feral Lands and was harrying a patrol of Borderguards, with a raiding force of orcs following behind.
The two hellhounds stumbled across them, and eager for a fight, there was a One-Two, and a large number of the orcs suddenly were no longer life-worthy. The hounds’ baying panicked the rest of them, especially when great jaws started tearing off heads with impunity.
The Auric Lion, having found a proper fight, came pounding back eagerly to confront them, larger than either Hound and confident in its strength and legendary golden hide to beat them up.
Shirley met it with a face full of hellrime, and then Fido leapt in, crossed and kissed their jaws together, and poured hellfire directly down the lion’s throat.
The fight was literally over that quick. Tails wagging, they trotted over to the Borderguards, Shirley nosing the great claw gashes on Fido’s hide, and the Rangers hastily used what Healing magic they had to fix him up.
They left the cooked carcass of the lion behind. Its golden hide, claws, and teeth were exceedingly valuable as power comps... and the Borderguards also had a little bit of revenge to deal against the orcs who had been hunting them beside the lion...