Brobroum Dunesledge's Story

Trudging along the shore, kicking away rock and debris with each heavy thump of his boots, Brobroum clutched at a pendant draped around his neck. Eyes closed, he kept a straight path, and mumbled to himself. "Nay shall I stray from that path that lie before me, guided eternally by thy might, I shall journey forth into the hoards of hell, and fill its desolate halls with horns of your triumph. This is where you have lead me, this is where I shall go."

Releasing the pendant, it was revealed to be a hammer handcrafted from gold and silver. It swung freely across his broad chest, which was covered by a lion's pelts tunic, that covered most of his torso and thighs. The tunic would appear to radiate some form of energy, magical in nature, a ward for those well versed in the arts.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled loose the coin required to cross the river, and eyed it curiously. What a strange trinket to have come to him. It was only through meditation that he was shown the purpose behind it, which had lead him to the river. Bringing his attention once more to the path ahead, he noticed a longboat, piloted by a cloaked figure, undoubtedly the ferryman, and two others before him, having yet to board.

He came to a halt before the two still on shore, waiting for them to notice him before offering a nod of greeting. "Hullo, name's Brobroum Dunesledge." He flashed the coin to the three. "I..er, believe I'm in the right place."

The figure took all three coins, moved away from blocking entry on to the boat, and without a second world it pushed off the shore, quickly leaving the landmass, soon entering a mistbank, only sounds the gurgling and fondlings as desperate souls shook the skift. Only occasionlly did the Ferryman stop them. Otherwise he moved slowly through the living mass, no sign of land or anything of that idea in front. It was clear even if you could have swam, it would have been easy to get lost, same with flying... The whole area was full of impenetrable fog. The splashing of the stick pushing through the writhing pallid orgy. Wrinkled thin fingers and other limbs tried to climb on board, but were quickly subdued.

Ezrael regarded the new arrival with a great deal of curiosity. "You are in hell, yes," he confirmed, a small part of him hoping that was what they wanted to hear, and a larger part of him hoping he had just disappointed this 'Brobroum'. "I am Ezrael, and this is my companion Jean-Paul. I am a demon. He is a priest. Together we make a good punchline." His grin sparkled.

Jean-Paul seemed disinterested in the new arrival, only what lie ahead. It was partly a fault of his helmet having limited vision and the difference in height making him unable to get a good look. "Ezrael, are there any of your inner demons we might run into?" he asked almost business-like, as if to snap his ally from distractions.

"Oh the story of my inner demons is quite one to tell, if our new friend will lend us his ear. Perhaps it will make this journey a little faster." There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked past the dwarf to see a couple walking down to the edge of the river, with but a glimmer of recognition as they saw Ezrael's clothing, slowly drifting away with the raft. A pity that they didn't have coins of their own. A pity indeed.

Eyeing the three of them, he cared little for the armored man's lack of interest in him, raising a brow when the other confirmed he was in hell. As the being aboard the ferry stepped aside, accepting their coins he shuffled among the craft with the others.

He remained silent for a few moments as the Ezrael introduced himself and his companion, offering a grunt as his 'joke'. Ezrael was certainly forthcoming with his demon blood, and it only confused him as to why he would require payment to enter hell, and if this so called 'priest' wasn't just some sacrifice.

"Tell ya what lad, I'll hear yer story if not but to pass the ride.." glancing once more to the main behind the helmet, introduced as Jean-Paul. "No priest I've ever heard of openly admits companionship to a demon, no less speak for him."

Tugging gently at his beard, he quieted himself and awaited this demon's tale of "inner demons"

Given the chance, Ezrael all but preened, turning about to stare over the open 'waters' of the river they sailed upon. "I had four inner demons; the first a woman who loathed me that I sought the affection of, going as far to try and get her drunk to sleep with her, and failed. The second was a woman who forgave me no matter what transgression I did against her. The third was the boy I was bound to by mutual birth, who grew to know only hate, isolation and betrayal until his untimely death, and the last was the boys father, who when looking upon his son could only see me."

"And I thought over it for a long time, on why these four people kept me awake when I tried to sleep. Why my thoughts returned to them. It was infuriating! The least of them I should have been able to rationalize as foolishness, the most of them I should have left behind with time. And yet..." His talon tapped at his jaw as if in deep thought.

"And so one day it came to me. The one thing I could not grasp. One terrible feelings and emotion. I realized that I, Ezrael, am incapable of feeling love. I could not and I can not. And I could not comprehend it either. The feelings and sensation, the warm tingling described in sentimental cards and poetry. These are things that elude me forever. Each one of those people I could not reach or understand because I could not reach or understand love. Do you know what that makes me?"

"A demo-"Jean-Paul began to retort automatically.
"Shut up, I'm not done," Ezrael chastised with a smile.

"It makes me truly liberated. I cannot lose because I cannot love. I merely have goals and methods to achieve them. And that makes me truly objective and free. I can observe love from the outside and the inexplicable way it makes people act. And it is fascinating." His eyes once more turned to look past the dwarf at the speck in the distance that was the couple he had robbed. "I have no inner demons."

Brobroum was a bit skeptical as the demon went on about his tails of mistresses and things of that nature, all women that had in some way affected his outcome of who he was now, suggesting he was a demon without any 'inner demons'.

Almost laughable, Brobroum stifled a cough, smoothing his small patch of hair with his hand, scratching at the nape of his neck. Admittedly he knew how the demon felt, to some regard. He felt that same feeling of liberation he spoke of, but not for his lack of love. The reason he was able to feel this kind of way was because of his faith.

His upbringing had taught him not to fear death, to find glory in the triumph or fall in battle. Wherever his faith brought him, he knew it was a battle worthy of song, should he live or die.

"So what do you do with that liberation, then? Suppose you've got some reason to be here, d'you not?"

"I isolated myself from all society as I didn't want my power being used by others who would seek to do wrong with it. Right now I'm on a mission from god," Ezrael explained casually.

"This is the first you have mentioned of such a mission..." Jean-Paul added dryly, half-turning around to look at the demon. "Does god usually send non-believers to do his work?"

"Of course he does," Ezrael answered with a flick of his finger in the air, "He knows they won't be blinded by their faith. Now why are you here?" His focus drifted back to the dwarf, eyes narrowed and twinkling with curiosity.

Brobroum tugged gently at his beard, thinking about what kind of demon would have to be strong armed into doing the wrong thing. Had it not have been for the armored man's inquiry, surely Brobroum would have burst into a raucous laughter at the demon suggesting he was on a "mission from god"

He couldn't help but wonder what type of connection the two of them had. Why were they together, surely since the armor clad hulk had no idea what kind of mission the demon was on, and sounded almost as taken aback as the Dwarf was internally.

Clearing his throat as he was addressed, he thought for a moment what details of his 'purpose' in hell would be worth discussing to these two.

"Guess you could say I'm lookin' fer something. No guarantee I'm going to find it, but this is as good a place as any ter start lookin'."

"Ah, a practical non-answer. I approve," Ezrael teased, though he was aware his answer was much the same, "Well, best not to let time go to wasting." His hands raised to the air, gesturing simply as magic drew to his fingertips that gathered and hardened until it became a black mineral, shiny and malleable like metal. It warped and swirled, lengthening into a hollow shaft slimmer than a man's wrist, but round.

The staff was topped with a lone black-glass crystal at the end, then left to rest on the raft. "Fact of the matter is... once we're through all these childish tests, we'll be in a place an unfamiliar realm that will require some direction, and I plan to have that direction. These staffs-" he said as he began on another, "-will draw on the innate energies of hell and survey the area. You know, triangulation, mapping, height and distance... That sort of thing. And all this information will be relayed to me, and on top of that I should be able to open portals to them much easier, allowing us to trek across Hell at an increased rate."

"You think you can map... Hell?" Jean-Paul asked. He shook his head.
"You think this is a game, you show this place no respect and you talk to things that appear before you as if they are what they appear," he chastised, gesturing towards Brobroum, as if he could not be trusted, "You are struggling against quicksand and you will be drowned."

There was a sharp shudder that even gave pause to the Ferryman, he appeared to listen. His curiousity was answered by powerful cruel laughter echoing all over hell. The Ferryman said nothing, but there appeared to be tremors upon the robed figure, before continued ever onwards. The boat soon arrived at the Sands of Limbo docking and letting the other disembark before once more vanishing into the fog. They were now in Limbo where all are judged by the mighty demonic entity Minos. It is here where your sins in life speak, no scream louder than anything else and there is no fathomable way to avoid being judged and thrown to the place you belong.

As he stepped clear of the boat Ezrael gestured with his hands, the first rod rising, then planting itself several meters up the shore. Two others suddenly hurtled off into the sky. "I'm placing a rod every kilometer, with another one kilometer in each direction so we can best triangulate our location. It will also make a path for us should we need to return this way, for any reason," he stated, "The rods will keep me updated on their location so I'll be able to track if the landscape warps around us. With me at the hel-" His voice suddenly cut short and his steps staggered."

Jean-Paul's head snapped to stare at him. "Did you feel th-" he started, only to be interrupted.
"No," Ezrael answered immediately, eyebrows tilting downwards, "What circle are w-"
"We have to leave. It is no longer safe."
"It's hell, we were never s-"
The frenchman turned for Ezrael, a hand snatching for his cloak. "We will all die here."

However Ezrael was already a half step away, clothing fluttering like a spectral entity. "You can die later or you can die right now if you prefer, but cowardice is unbecoming of you Jean-Paul," his tone had taken a sharper turn and lost its normally jovial undercurrent.

Silence stirred between the pair, staring at each other.

Several thunderous steps across the cast hellscape seemed like nothing to the giant of Hell and though without eyes it seemed to look down upon the interlopers of Hell.
"I am Minos, judge of the damned, and your only hope of salvation within this pit of hate and desecration!" The giant monster bellowed a roar that would deafen all the lost souls that proliferated this hell-scape. It continued to look down at the wayward souls that seemed to traverse only to take a seat upon his throne which appeared in a show of brimstone and fire. With only a single sniff of the air before him and a wave of his massive hand a scepter of gold and gemstones fell before the three. The gavel of Hell was pointing at the accused.

"Two priests, one of the true lord and another of a false divine, and a long lost spirit that possibly returns for more punishment. Your crimes are many but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company within my own little circle of Hell?" Minos began to chortle only to cough instinctively clearing the phlegm and rot from his throat.

"Before we exchange words allow me once more to...." Minos sniffed the air once more only to smile fiendishly. "Jean Paul Sebastian. Your crimes are far and few between. Priest of the Lord your crimes are simple and ones that any man of your stature can overlook when living a life of light and love. Your sin is sanctimony of the furthest kind. Not all of your actions can be weighed in the light of Gods good light. Fraud for you my Priest of God!"

Minos turned his gavel of gold towards the war priest of Thor only to shake his head as he sniffed the air once more. "Countless sins infest your soul as you crave the power of another who did not rightfully acquire it themselves. Your sins are Apostasy, Blasphemy, and Divination. Brobroum Dunesledge placing you within the many levels of Hell would bring me great joy..." Minos stopped and pointed his gavel to the third and final sinner amongst them.

"However it will wait. Ezrael, the man with a title!" Minos began to chortle once more only to clear his throat again as if the rot seemed to spread. "You are an unnatural abomination! A product of unknown origins and simply without any cause of truly being before me somehow the fates have deemed your presence worthy!" Minos began to sniff the air once more only to frown and began to scratch at the crown that sat atop of his head.

"Perplexing." Minos stammered. The Great Judge's frown seemed to deepen as he set his gavel down upon his lap only to glare with his eyeless gaze at the soul. "I cannot judge you. It is not my place to judge those who have done so little to affect my senses. What brings you before me within this hellhole?"