FIC: Ravages Of Hell (21?)
Buffy stared up at the white-furred behemoth glaring down at her, neck craning. The beast had to be twice her height, which okay she wasn't tall but that still meant the creature stood well over ten feet tall. The monster's mouth opened, fangs gleaming.
Buffy smiled nervously. "Nice," she struggled to decide what the monstrosity was, "monkey?"
The thing's roar shook the snow-covered ground. Buffy dropped into a crouch, allowing the thing's huge paw to hurtle harmlessly overhead. "Nice bear?" she tried again.
The creature's second punch caught her square on the forehead, knocking her onto her butt. Buffy scowled as she shook her head clear. "See, that's just not nice. I was going to tie a ribbon around your neck, maybe give you a to a zoo. But now," Buffy leapt to her feet and drew her sword, sunlight shining off the metal, "I'm going to have to kill you."
The massive furball bounded towards her. Buffy waited until the last second before leaping into the air and into a roundhouse kick that smashed into the creature's face, blood bursting out of its forehead. Buffy landed in a crouch before the stunned creature managed to steady itself. Not willing to give up her advantage, Buffy charged.
The monster roared when her sword flashed out, its point ripping across its chest. "Too slow!" Buffy taunted as she ducked under another paw swipe before leaping back. "You can do better than that!"
The fur covered beast charged her again, hands swinging wildly. At the last moment Buffy darted to the right, sword slashing up. The beast bellowed as her blade tore into its side just above its left hip, crimson gushing out.
The moment the behemoth was past her, Buffy spun around and slashed down, slicing its hamstring. The giant threw back its head and howled before dropping to its knees. "Now who's taller?" she asked as she decapitated her rival.
As soon as the headless corpse had hit the ground, Buffy hurried over to her boyfriend and her two junior Slayers standing over the other monster's corpse. "That was fun!" her beam dissipated at her boyfriend's paling face. "They weren't that tough!
"No, my lovely," the Italian playboy shook his head. "It is not the battle that shakes me, it is our opponents."
Buffy shrugged. "They weren't that tough," she repeated.
"No, no, no," the Immortal shook his head, "you don't understand." Buffy scowled, people said that to her a lot. "They were frost giants, beasts from the Norse legends. They prove we're where I said. In Migard."
"Sacre bleu!" Michelle exclaimed. " What sort of maniac sends us into a mythical land?"
"I've got a better question," the Immortal put in. "Who has the power to do it?"
Buffy grimaced as one really obvious answer occurred. Willow.
"It'll be night soon," Faith stared up at the setting sun, "and there's no way in hell I'm sleeping outside." Faith looked left and right, to the towering trees and lush green bushes surrounding them. It was revolting. "I am not an outdoors person."
"Jury's still out on if you're a person."
Faith chose to resist the growing urge to punch Rona's teeth out in favour of just ignoring the African-American's mutterings. "I saw some smoke on the horizon," she continued. "I figure there's a village somewhere in the distance, maybe an hour from here. We can get some food, booze, and maybe a bed for the night."
"And how are we supposed to pay for all that?" Kennedy sceptically demanded.
"I was figuring we could use the barter system," Faith grinned lewdly at her companions' confused expressions. "Swap lap dances for booze." Faith laughed at Kennedy's disgusted expression. "Check your backpacks, girls."
Faith smiled at the others' gasps as they checked their bags and found their wallets that had been filled with banknotes and credit cards had changed to pouches jangling with coins. "How?" Vi asked.
"Don't know," Faith shrugged.
"Maybe Willow added something to the transportation spell," Kennedy suggested, "to make sure we would have some local currency."
"Makes sense," Faith nodded. "Let's hustle, people." Faith smirked at Kennedy. "Say what's the male version of a tavern wench? Only I kinda got an itch."
"You can get a cream for that you know," Rona muttered. As usual Faith's glare bounced off the African-American.
In just under an hour they'd reached the hoped for village's perimeter. Faith gaped at the hamlet consisting mostly of one-storey buildings with wooden walls and smoke puffing out of holes in their straw roofs. People dressed in linen and animal skins stared as they strode down the village's main and only mud path. "Yeah," Faith concluded as she looked left and right, "we ain't in 2005 any more that's for damn sure."
"Gee, you think?" Kennedy scoffed as she headed towards one of the few stone and multi-levelled buildings, the sign above its wooden door indicating it was 'The Traveller's Restful Night'. Shoving the door open, the rich lesbian led them into a low-ceilinged, shadowy inn.
Conversation ceased and every eye turned to them upon their entry. The Traveller's Restful Night had already begun to fill up with patrons eager to satisfy their hunger and quench their thirst after a hard day's work. The setting evening sun's cast a band of light down the centre of the tavern's floor cutting through the smoke filled atmosphere. The wooden tables and chairs were all to the right of the counter and the empty stage. From the kitchen door situated behind the well-stocked bar came delicious smells that had many of the bar patrons casting hungry eyes in its direction.
After nodding, Faith sauntered over to the bar, floorboards creaking underfoot. "Yo, bar-keep!" Faith rapped her knuckles on the hardwood bar surface. "Four glasses of -," Faith's voice trailed off as she realised they probably didn't have JD in Camelot, "wine," she lamely decided.
The jowly bar-keep sniffed. "Women drinking in my establishment?" The man shook his head and pointed a finger towards the door. "Get out-."
The man gasped when she reached a hand across the counter, grabbed a hold of his meat-stained tunic, and lifted him off the ground. "I don't ask nicely twice," she warned as she slammed four coppers onto the counter. "Four cups of wine," she lowered and released the paling man, "now."
"Subtle, Faith," Rona muttered. "Real subtle."
Faith glanced over her shoulder and winked. "I don't do subtle. 'Sides I," she smirked when the inn-keep gingerly placed four bronze cups of wine down on the counter before scurrying away, "get results."
They found themselves a table at the far end of the inn, in a corner away from the inquisitive glances and leers from the male customers. Faith grimaced as she tasted the wine. She was no expert, but she knew when something tasted like crap. Faith saw her own distaste reflected in her companions' grimaces.
"Hey lassies, seems a sin for pretty little things like you to be on your own. Mind if we join you?"
"Yeah," Faith glanced to the right. The leader of their six propositioners was a short fat dude with an incredible case of body odour. "Like that' s gonna happen in this lifetime."
"Ah, lassie, I know how to warm your cold heart," the man placed a sweaty hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
"You might wanna get that damn paw off me," Faith warned with a glare. The snaggle-toothed in-bred just grinned. Without leaving her seat, Faith shot out a foot, smashing her heel into the man's over-stuffed stomach. The man grunted, greened, and fell to his knees. Faith stared challengingly at the man's five companions, shock written across their faces. "I think it's time for your guys to pick up ya bud and leave." The five men immediately grabbed their winded companion and dragged him away. Faith grinned as she turned back to her companions. "Told ya unsubtle works every time."
Angel groaned as he inspected the sixteen green-skinned figures encircling them. They were all thick-limbed creatures with yellow Mohicans, slanted grey eyes flanking a flat nose, and a mouth filled with vicious-looking teeth. Somehow he doubted they were Avon ladies.
Despite that unsettling conclusion, Angel raised his hands in supplication. "Relax everyone," he soothed, "let's not jump to any conclusions. They might be friendly." A careful smile on his face, Angel stepped towards the nearest. "We don't want any trouble."
The creature snarled and lunged towards him, sword thrusting at him, Angel swayed away from the attack. His hand flickered out to grab the creature's sword-arm at its thick wrist. "There's no need for any -." His eyes widened at the sight of another beast charging him from the left. "Ah, screw this!" Angel's foot smashed into the creature's slab-like chest. The blow lifted the monster off its feet, folded it up like a deck-chair, and flung it back half a dozen feet before crashing to the ground.
Angel twisted the other demon's wrist against the grain. A snap rang out as the bone broke. "Feel free to join in!" Angel roared as he repeatedly pounded his fist into the monster's face. After four such blows the thing fell to its knees, its face caved in.
Seeing another demon charging in, Angel leapt into the air. Once he was parallel with the ground, he wrapped his feet around the demon's head and twisted.
The air resonated to the sound of the demon's neck snapping. Angel landed upright. Just in time to be charged by another monster, its sword swinging wildly.
Angel dropped into a crouch, allowing the weapon to slash harmlessly overhead. Straightening before the attacker had time to reverse his swing, he stepped into the demon's space, drove his knee into its groin, and forehead into its face. The monster stumbled backwards, Angel used the momentary respite to draw his own sword and slash at his opponent.
The monster just managed to parry his attack. Sensing another demon behind him, he jumped into the air, tucking his knees into his chest.
The two demons collided with a thudding grunt. Before either had time to react, Angel's swords had first decapitated one and then the other. Hearing the sound of another demon charging from behind, Angel shot out a leg in a reverse leg sweep.
The creature grunted as it hit the ground. Angel spun around and thrust his blade down, impaling the creature's throat. Yellow viscera pumped out of the wound, Angel twisted his blade, opening the cut still further, before dragging it out.
Looking around, Angel was relieved to see his companions were finishing off the rest of their attackers. "I've had a thought, dad," Connor announced as the last demon thudded to the ground. "Just what do you know about Atlantis?"
"Just scattered fragments," Angel candidly admitted. "I've always thought of it as a myth like leprechauns. Why?"
Connor kicked the corpse nearest to him. "What if humans are slaves to these monsters? What if humans don't exist here at all?"
"Gee," Gwen muttered. "I just wonder where he gets that sunny disposition from?"
Angel ignored Gwen's comment to look into the distance. "There's only one way to find out."
"Captain Obvious strikes again," Gwen commented.
Buffy turned to the others. "The faster we get to the trident, the fast we get home." Buffy shivered. "Back to somewhere." She noticed the Immortal wasn't exactly paying attention. And the one thing she demanded from her boyfriends was attention. She stamped her foot in the snow. "What's up?"
Her boyfriend continued to look around. "There's something wro-," the Italian's voice trailed off. "Oh that's what it was." The Italian playboy stared over her shoulder.
Buffy twisted her neck to see where the European was looking. A score of coarse-featured, powerfully-built men were trudging through the snow towards them. All the warriors were dressed in animal skins and furs, but Buffy's gaze was fixed on the fearsome collection of battle-axes, swords, and spears.
Buffy glanced back at her fellow Slayers. "Stay calm," she counselled. "But if it comes to a fight, try not to kill anyone." She looked towards her boyfriend. "How are supposed to -."
"Greetings strangers!" boomed the biggest of the strangers, a thick-set red-head with gleaming emerald eyes and a blacksmith's forearms.
"Talk to them," Buffy finished before gaping. She exchanged shocked glances with the Immortal. He shrugged. Realising it must a side-effect of Willow's spell, she turned back to the interlopers.
"You must be mighty warriors indeed!" the red-head continued. "These frost giants attacked our village five nights ago, killed many of our people, and ran off our cattle. We expected lose many of our remaining warriors in our vengeance quest," the group's apparent leader shook his head. "But you kill them without loss." The flame-haired Viking threw back his head and laughed. "Come! We must feast and celebrate your victory!"
Buffy opened her mouth. Before she could politely refuse, the Immortal had spoken. "We'd be honoured to share a meal with such gallant heroes."
"Aye!" the towering mountain-man beamed. "Grand! I be Olaf!"
"And why are we doing this?" Buffy hissed as she unwillingly fell in beside her boyfriend. "I thought our mission was supposed to be urgent?"
"It is," the Immortal smiled. "But they might have some information about the trident."
"Oh," Buffy pouted. "You don't suppose they have a salad option?"
Her boyfriend chuckled. "Doubtful."
"Here, lass!"
"Thanks." Buffy stared with mounting horror at the half-cooked steak one of the Vikings had cheerfully dropped into her hands. "The phase 'a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips' comes to mind."
"Buffy," Buffy glanced towards the Immortal. "Olaf says the trident is in Utgard, the outer world, at the entrance to Hel and under the guard of Garm." Buffy stared blankly at her boyfriend. "Garm's a giant wolf, the size of an elephant."
"Oh great." Buffy lost what little appetite she'd had.
"And another thing!" Kennedy jabbed an angry finger at the increasingly bemused-looking bar-owner. "Where is the maid service?"
"Jesus, Ken!" Faith's always short patience ran out. Hooking an arm around the complaining Slayer's waist, Faith dragged her away. "This ain't a five star exclusive hotel like the Paris Hilton ya know!" Faith smirked. "Although from what I've seen there ain't nothing exclusive about that girl if ya know what I mean."
Kennedy refused to be amused by her joke. "He over-charged us," the smaller girl complained, eyes shooting daggers at the flinching bar-keeper.
"Shit, Ken," Faith soothed her raging companion. "How in the hell would you know, we're not 'xactly experienced in this world are we? Come on."
"Shit," Faith cursed as they crossed the inn's threshold to find Vi and Rona facing off a mob of maybe thirty pitchfork-wielding peasants. "Ya know," she groused. "People are usually pleased to see me go, not wanting to make me stay."
"That I can believe," Rona muttered.
"You're an ungodly witch!" accused the mob's leader.
Faith arched an eyebrow as she recognised the gang-leader as the man she'd kicked the previous night. This was obviously about typically sensitive male pride. "And you're a sleaze, but ya don't see me waving a pitchfork in your face. 'Sides," Faith smirked. "You don't see any warts on my nose do ya?"
"Hey!" Ken predictably reacted. "That's an untrue stereotype!"
"Whatever." Faith growled as one of the men loosened an arrow at her. Snatching the projectile of out of the air, Faith flung it back at the would-be archer. The man screamed and fell as the arrow thudded into his thigh.
Noting that the entire mob had turned to the injured man, Faith stepped forward and snatched the pitchfork from the group's distracted leader, kicked his legs from under him, and held the weapon to his neck. Conscious that all the villagers had turned back to her, she spoke, her voice icy. "I was aiming for your bud's leg. If I'd wanted him dead he would be. Ya might wanna think about that before deciding if ya wanna continue this."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man babbled.
"That ya are," Faith agreed before looking at her companions. "Let's blow this shithole, girls."
Angel looked nervously around, noting the rising sun. "What worry assails you, Angel?"
Angel glanced towards the questioner and then pointed up into the brightening sky. "The sun, Groo," he explained.
"Ah," his fellow champion nodded in understanding. "You worry it will effect you in the same way it does on earth."
"Yeah," he squared his shoulders. There was only one way to find out. Moving forward, he strode out of the cave, smiling slightly as he shielded his eyes from the sun's glare but didn't otherwise burst into flames.
"How?" Connor gasped.
"Wesley," Angel's stomach twisted as it always did at the utterance of his dead friend, "theorised it was because the rules that govern us not applying to different dimensions."
"Has anyone ever mentioned that you're really, really pale?" Gwen queried.
Angel's mood dipped still further. "Yeah," he nodded. "Gunn mentioned it." Anxious to change the subject he looked around. "Grab your stuff," he instructed. "The map says Atlantis lays that way," he pointed north, into a deep valley. "We'll keep to the shadows so that no-one sees us."
"Wow," Gwen's whisper carried to his ear, "it's really beautiful."
Angel found himself nodded in agreement as he stared over the hill's crest and to the metropolis beyond. The journey had taken all day and dusk was falling. But it had been well worth it.
The vast city sat on top of a hill, encircled by a deep canal at the bottom. A gleaming marble wall surrounded the city, battlements spaced every 150 feet, their spires impaling the sky. The only visible route over the fast-flowing canal was via a stone-walled bridge.
"We'll need to find sewer access," Angel decided.
"Sewers again?" groused Gwen.
"Preaching to the choir," Connor agreed.
Angel sighed long-sufferingly. "Being a champion is a thankless task, Angel," Groo empathised.
"You're not wrong, Groo. Not wrong at all."