Chapter Two: Ribcage and Beyond

I.

The oily rain of Sigil beat down heavily on him as he walked. Baatezu. These things were supposed to believe in law and order, no matter how depraved they were otherwise. Slavers? Didn't make much sense, to be sure. Rhedoc walked heavily, almost limping, the weight of the whole situation was fully upon his shoulders, he would die. This was the last ride he'd take, the last adventure for Rhedoc Gwydion, and very likely, he wouldn't even save Cierra in the process. Baator was an ugly place, and if it didn't kill him outright itself, then her captor surely would, and in short order.

Still, it didn't help not to try, and a life without her was a thousand times worse than death at the hands of Baator, or its residents. The rain in Sigil seemed a fitting compliment to his mood. Sickly, angry, and dreary, somehow all at once and somehow muted into a dull patter and smatter. It rolled easily off of Cierra's cloak as it clung to him, a bit too small, though he'd never part with it. Damn fine of Ember to buy him these pants, though. What with being Fated and all.

Ah Factions. That's what made Sigil absolutely unbearable. He himself was a member of the Free League, a group of individualists bent on personal freedom. That more or less meant they wanted to be left alone and out of politics; from the long and short end of things. Ember; a fire genasi he'd been traveling with, which is to say, she had parentage of at least half fire elemental or djinni or some other damn fire thing; was a member of the Fated, a faction claiming something or other, blah blah, nothing is free. Really most of them bored him. Anyway, she did give him clothes on Ysgard after the unfortunate accident with Odin.

Odin, what a sodding berk. "Take a run from my bag, it will help you force destiny's hand." Yeah, or it'd help you get real naked in a real cold plane real fast. Berk.

Then again, if it hadn't happened, he'd not have had Cierra's cloak or glaive. Small blessings everywhere.

Now, where was this sodding portal? He'd been wandering the Hive for hours, and that is not a place even the keenest of bloods wished to wander for more than a few moments. Still, it was heaven compared to Baator, so he had to admit, maybe part of him was not in any particular hurry. Alright, four houses past that building, two over… there it was, a broken window on a pile of rubbish. Well, at least it was glowing when he held out the portal key; an old boot. Right. Go on through. Why is every portal in Sigil located into the Hive? Damnit, there's that sucking feeling again…

II.

WHUMP!

He landed hard and none too gracefully on hard ground. Swords clattered about, bags thumped on the ground, and an Aasimar groaned. Ah the Outlands, that wonderful plane in-between. Wander here long enough and you'd find a portal to anywhere, quite literally. Or you'd die of thirst and starvation after wandering for weeks and not finding anything. That was the way of it. Well, if chant was to be believed, it was anywhere between a day and a week's walk to Ribcage from here, and from the look of things, that was a fairly accurate assessment. The place was bleak to say the best of things, blasted and rocky, and generally unwelcoming. The spine they called it. Or Vale of the Spine. Whichever, really, did it matter if a dead man got the name of the location of the town with the portal to his death correctly?

Standing, brushing off his clothing, shouldering the glaive Rhedoc looked out over rocky plain, then noted, in fact, that Ribcage, gate town of Baator, was visible. Oh sure. You want to get someplace nice and it takes months, going to Baator, the Nine Hells? It'll spit you out right at the door, thanks for coming by, berk. Walk. One step, then the other, that's it. You can make it.

The air was surprisingly cool, uncomfortably cool, and thin. There were precious few places Rhedoc actually outright liked, and this was turning out not to be one of them. Between the hardness of the ground, the coldness of the air, and the giant sprawling town littered with blood-red streets and dark grey spires, who could blame him? The place was a giant illness on an otherwise alright plane.

Well… Ribcage here I come.

III.

The first thing was the smell. It was dark, yes, and the streets seemed paved in stones made of blood, yes. The buildings were made of a dark grey stone, probably because black would have just been too much evil in one particular place. But the first thing was the stench of death and misery. It is not a normal smell, not like roses or lilac or even rotting eggs. No, the smell of a miserable city is something one must practice and experience, and this city smelled worse than Sigil, which took some doing.

People moved around sullenly, when they moved around at all, most looked terrified or at least unhappy. Then there were Baatezu. Teams, gaggles, swarms, more than he was comfortable with. Demonic creatures in every shape and size, red skinned, scaled, four arms, three arms, none. Some had two or three heads, some looked like corpses given life and horrible sharp teeth. All of them looked bad, nasty, worse. They gave him looks that he knew meant bad things. He was an Aasimar, child of a celestial being, in the gate town to Hell. It was bound to raise some eyebrows.

Keep moving, Rhedoc, the portal out, or in, is ahead, in that… horrible… giant… black citadel. Wonderful. He walked along, swords flopping at his sides and back, cloak billowing a bit in the infernal air. His grip tightened on the glaive, face stony and impassive as he passed a group of leering creatures. Just a few more blocks.

"Well, well, well. Rhedoc Gwydion, champion of Chaos."

Pike it all! Just what he didn't need! The voice came from behind, and it carried with it a growl, a snarl, and a general undertone telling Rhedoc that it was not, in fact, used to speaking the common human tongue. Wonderful. Damn tanar'ri and his job. He wanted no part in this war…

"Yeah that's my name, though the honorific is a bit unnecessary."

He turned to see a positively huge thing, with red skin matching it's red eyes, with patches of black scale serving as armor. It had a sword strapped to its hip, and long black horns protruding from its forehead. Its muscles rippled, as though the muscles themselves had muscles, and all of the muscles had won a Largest Muscles in the Multiverse contest. It stood over eight feet tall, maybe nine, which was large enough to make Rhedoc think twice about ignoring it. A baatezu. Grand.

"Heard about your ride in Bytopia, Rhedoc. Didn't like what I heard."

"Look, I'm a pretty little guy, I don't argue with you types. Either side. A tanar'ri says 'hey do me a job or I'll eat you' I listen, I do the job, and I sob off as fast as my scrawny legs can carry me. One of you bloods wanders up and say 'do me a job or I eat you' I do the same thing. No desire to die," Rhedoc explained calmly.

"You're in the wrong place for that, berk," it leered.

"Oh?" buy time, get ready to bolt, ease your hand on the glaive, move to shoulder it further, easier to run that way…

"Yeah. This is Hell. You're going to find that not many fiends are as friendly as I am. Hell, I'm downright congenial. Most'd just eat you. Or rip you apart and leave the pieces as a warning to other berks. Come with me." A giant hand thumped down on Rhedoc's tiny shoulder. Damnit. He was led summarily into a side alley, and he prepared for the worst.

IV.

"So that's when I said 'pike all this, we're not going to solve the problem in my lifetime' and that's sayin' somethin' listen, you going into Baator, that's nice and all, downright barmy, but nice. What to save that girlie and all. But you're not walkin' out of there without help. As I see it, you need me."

This sodding baatezu was… renegade? Rogue? Refused to take part in the Blood War, and was now offering his services as a guide? In the Nine Hells? No this can't last. Can't be real. This has to be a setup.

The alley was dark, almost too dark. It smelled of darkness, darkness and decay. A wonderful place to have this conversation really, the air was heavy with filth. Rhedoc stood, hands resting easily on the hilts of his short swords, smiling nervously up at the large thing.

"Yeah. Yeah let's say I believe that line. What's to keep you from going back on me while we're in there?"

"We're making a deal, little aasimar. I never go back on my word, my word is law. Evil and stupidity are two different things entirely. The Blood War? That's stupidity. What when we could all march on Mount Celestia and wipe good from existence. It laughed a very loud and very frightening laugh. Rhedoc shuddered.

"Right. Back to that. So, I get you to Sigil where you can lay low once we're out of Baator, and in exchange, you get me to Cierra and the citadel in Dis where they're keeping her?"

"That would be the deal I proposed, little aasimar."

"Ah ha! Wait, you'll help me get into the citadel, not just get to it, right?"

"I must admit, I was hoping you would not catch that bit, but yes, yes I will help you get inside. But I will not help you fight the baatezu, when they inevitably fall upon you."

"You won't fight against me, though?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"You have my word."

V.

They stood at the pillar.

Aasimar and Baatezu.

The pillar was tall and red, with silvery flecks in it.

Rhedoc vomited.

They entered the pillar of fire.