The Ashen Fortress II

[Kuzuru]

Charcoal colored clouds hung heavy in the red sky. On the horizon rows of black teeth scratched at the sky, the silhouettes of mountain ranges. Underfoot the ground trembled and shuddered as several thousand tons of rock shifted to the whims of seismic forces. Twisted vines of bramblebush clawed at the scorched earth trying to gather every last scrap of nutrients. Towering crags of basalt dotted the landscape, offering a jagged obstacle for those that dared to pass. Veins of lava traced snakes of fire up into the hearts of mountains. Burning sulfur assaulted nostrils while razor sharp pyroclastic particles shredded lungs.

Kuzuru smiled. He was home. While Coruscant was alright, the Steppes were everything that the demon hoped for in a verse. Inhospitable to all, except the most hardened of creatures, it was a world built upon the core premise of natural selection. The strong would survive while the weak would be trampled underneath.

After admiring the scenery for a few minutes Kuzuru set to work resummoning his motorcycle. This time he created a sort of off-road bike with big knobby tires, something that could traverse the ashen wasteland with relative ease. He also summoned a pair of steampunk-inspired goggles and a respirator. Once geared up he sat on his bike and kick-started the thing. It grumbled and roared as the engine cycled up. With a kicked-up cloud of dust behind him he roared into the heart of the Steppes.

Several hours of travel carried him to a far-off corner of the Ashen Steppes. Towering mountains and volcanoes formed an impenetrable wall of stone and lava. He approached the mountain range and began to ride parallel to it. Every now and again he’d glance up at the stone behemoths, keeping track of just how many he had passed. After about another hour of riding he came to a halt. His bike sputtered and rattled, the trip had been hard for the gas-guzzling contraption. Kuzuru dismounted the motorcycle and began the process of deconstructing it into particles of omnilium. Once the machine was consumed he turned back towards the mountains.

From a distance it would have been damn near impossible to spot, but up close one could make out a serpentine pathway carved into the side of one mountain. As Kuzuru followed this path he looked out across the Ashen Steppes towards the remains of Death Mountain. Once home to the strongest creature in the Steppes it was now little more than a sundered caldera. He smiled and kept walking. At the top of the stairway he came to a solid wall of stone. Emblazoned into the center of the wall was the familiar sigil of The Ashen Blades. The demon pressed his palm against the symbol. Hidden machinations groaned and whirred as the stone slab moved to the side and revealed a hallway into the mountain’s core. As he walked through the door sealed behind him.

“Ah,” he said, “home sweet home, nothin’ in the world like it.”

Around him the narrow halls gave way to a large atrium complete with a vaulted ceiling. This atrium served as a common area for the various members of the Blades. He stepped past the pool table and entered the kitchen area. It was a small open-air style kitchen that you could see from the rest of the common area. He opened the fridge and frowned, still empty.

“Cinder!” he shouted, but there was no reply, “Dawn!? Charles, Mallory?!”

Nothing.

Oh well, the demon figured he needed some alone time anyways. He moved over to the couch and collapsed onto it. Kuzuru grabbed the remote off the nearby coffee stand and tuned into the Omniverse News Network. For a few hours he laid sprawled out across the couch, half asleep, watching the news. Just as he was on the cusp of dreamland a picture of his mug flashed across the screen. It was the daily rundown of recent heads added to the bounty board.

“This is going to get old,” he said and shut off the T.V, “real fucking old.”

[Claptrap]

After spending what seemed like a small eternity trying to climb the steps of the fortress, Claptrap managed to hall himself up to the stone wall and gave the hidden door a jumping high five to open it. Claptrap wandered in to find a new room in the fortress, with an ominous black orb floating above a pool of blood.

"Well, this is new. Usually they try to sign you up for a newsletter before they show you the sacrifice room." The robot mused to himself as he picked up a note signed by Kuzuru. It read:

'Claptrap, I don't know what exactly your blood equivalent is, but put some oil or coolant or something in here, and you'll get stronger if we ever have to defend the fortress.'

"Well, who am I to refuse demonic blood power?" Claptrap said as he unscrewed a fuel line in his arm before letting a small amount of oil mingle with the blood. It glowed menacingly, being greedily accepted by the pool as if it were real blood. "Cool." Claptrap said simply before turning and going back to his room.

-Small timeskip-

Claptrap opened his door and walked out to see Kuzuru watching television. 

"Oh, hey boss." Claptrap said as he looked at the tv. A bounty? That was both a sign of power, and a cross hair over your back. 

"Oh, Claptrap." Kuzuru said, a little surprised to see the robot. "Where were you? I called out and no one responded.

"Sorry, I was practising my dance moves in my room and must have had the music too loud."

"I didn't hear any music."

"The music's in here." Claptrap said, pointing to where the heart would be on a person. "My internal speakers, that is."

Kuzuru chuckled slightly. "Well, it looks like we're going to have to hold off on dancing for a while, we've got work to do." 

Claptrap gave a salute to the demon with a resounding 'yessir'.