Memories of the last Incarnation
All things live, and all things die. Many can hold off the fates for a time, but everything must, and will, perish. When mortality is stripped from a person like a cloak, one can live thousands of lifetimes and then never die, yet always lose themselves again and again. This was the fate of a creature known only as the Nameless one, for he lost himself for countless lives. Every death, every time he fell, his mind weakened, fractured, broke a little more, and when the mind couldn't take anymore, he would shatter, his mind piecing itself back together again and again, glued together like shattered glass, never the same twice and always lacking what defined him, his memories.
He suffered final death, or should it be said he achieved true life, only by traveling to the fortress of regrets, a plane of existence compromised of shadows and darkness, where the living can feel their very soul bleed out from their wounds and cuts. It is here where the shadows themselves are given life, and with this newly risen existence, seek death, death to any who would mock them with beating hearts and running blood.
Here, the nameless one reunited with his stripped away mortality and finally become whole, but much were the sins and evils of his previous lives. No sooner did he rise then he was spirited away to the lower hells to fight a never ending war of evil versus evil, the blood war. His tale doesn't end there, but takes on a new beginning, a new purpose as even in the foulest pits of hell, he lives and fights.
Seeking to rejoin him are his companions, the fiendling Annah, the Skull Morte, The Modron Nordom, and the Succubus Fall-From-Grace. Lost, feeling forgotten, they search for him, attempt to reunite with their former leader, and long for him in their own unique ways, be it friendship, loyalty, or even love. This is a tale of the last incarnation.
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Sitting atop the blood red rocks of the ashen plains, he chewed in his mouth the morsel of dried jerky. It was a rare treat in the hells for him to enjoy, even if it did come from the flesh of his fellow men, but he forced himself to savor it none the less. He was tired, hungry, and hurt in more ways than one, and yet…he couldn't stop his smiling. It had only been a week since his arrival in the hells, or what felt like a week, he had no way of actually knowing with the fires blazing all around him and never a moment of darkness in this plane to signify the changing of days. He had regained his memories and everything that made him unique, even his own name, and though he couldn't sort through all the memories of every incarnation he ever was, he still remained himself.
"Yo, Adahn, we got more work soon. You finished with that readin yet?" The voice of Caberus called to him, a giant of a man with muscles enough for six. Even though he now knew his true name, he knew better than to share it with the rest of the planes. There was power in such a thing as a name, and he wouldn't let someone ever have that kind of control over him again. He decided that Adahn would be enough for the world.
"Yes Caberus, I have. I'm merely enjoying what's left of our fallen comrades now so that we may survive another day to do the same for those after us" he spoke, a sad and sarcastic smile on his face. Caberus gave a hearty laugh and patted him on the shoulders warmly. Normally Adahn would never trust any man that was with him in this hellish prison, but Caberus was smart. He knew that his chances of survival were far greater with Adahn's magic at its peak, with his ability to cast spells to break apart the demons with magic, bolster their own men's bodies to swing harder, and even to armor them from all but the most lethal of blows from other demons. Caberus wasn't a good man, but he was a smart man, and he knew as long as he was with Adahn, he would live through most any battle.
"Ya know what your problem is? Ya too soft here. How a guy like ya got sent ta the hells will forever remain a mystery ta me" he spoke, slurring almost every word, almost intentionally.
"The planes work in many mysterious ways my friend. Where are we to do battle for next? Someplace with an ice box filled with some refreshing drinks not made from our friends would be a pleasant change" Adahn spoke sarcastically, causing the big man to laugh again.
"Nah, we be beatin some Tanarii arse at Ptreola, home ta the wondrous invention of the skin paintings. Who knows, if ya die out there, I could make some decent jink off that scarred hide of yours" he spoke with a wide smile. Adahn knew what he really meant when he said skin paintings. The Baatezu were renowned for their cold and methodical cruelty, so they would take still living humans and carve scars along their bodies, forcing screams to echo throughout their twisted cities and landscapes. Sometimes they would craft scenes of battles or proclamations on the skins of the men they tortured, many other times it was just to cause the most pain they could to the person to see how far they could go without killing them, and many of the devils would see it as a thing of immense beauty.
"Well, I'll just hope that you cover me long enough to make sure that doesn't happen. Remember, if I die, you lose my magical support" he said, half joking, half threatening. The intent wasn't lost on Caberus as he rubbed his side, the side where one of the Tanarri bit him with the force of a lion. If it weren't for Adahn's spells, the bite would have gone completely through him and severed the man in half and allowed him to watch his entrails spill onto the field. Caberus didn't forget, and likely never would.
"Well, no sense in standing about. Let's get ta the mid parts of the legion before we get stuck in the back or front" he said, helping Adahn up and allowing themselves to travel the short distance back to the legion, or as the Baatezu commander they were under called it "Geszsrta", or in his tongue, "The meat grinder". Sighing to himself, Adahn, pocketed his journal and spellbook in one of the few pouches he had on his belt as he shifted uncomfortably in the stiffened hide of some creature he was forced to wear for protection. If it were his choice, he would have kept the attire he always wore, but Caberus convinced him it would be better to wear some armor or at least some clothes to protect him should an arrow or two happen to catch him the wrong way. No sooner did they arrive at the middle most part of the legion it started to move, many men groaning and many more demon task masters cracking whips to force the corrupted souls to fall into line.
"Let's be off then, no one lives forever" he spoke, the humor of his statement lost to him as Adahn chuckled at the irony. This was his life, his new life, one he would endure for untold millennia with his only satisfaction being that all his friends and companions back home were safe. He pondered what they were doing at this very moment, his thoughts drifting back lazily to those five souls that trusted their lives to him and he trusted his death to them.