01-11-2017, 04:22 AM
As I’d come to learn that thing that swallowed me was known as a mantella. Not that the name mattered much to me. The insides of a mantella are akin to a pitcher plant. Smooth and spacious, coated in a slick mucus. These toad beasts were often used to escort prisoners; able to use their electrically-charged tongue to subdue all but the most resolute. Their stomach was naturally caustic, but they could be trained to only produce stomach acid on command. This made them not only effective transports, but frightening torture devices as well. And of course lucky me found himself deep in the belly of one of these fantastic creatures. They had stripped me of my weapons while I was still recovering from my dose of taser-tongue. My fleshy prison sloshed back and forth as the fat creature hobbled to its destination. Voices chattered around me, muffled by several inches of fatty meat. We traveled for what felt like hours but in reality it was only a few minutes. Just as my muscles began to cramp and my joints stiffened the mantella spit me up.
My eyes burned as they readjusted to the bright light. Without seeing, without even thinking my body clambered upwards in an attempt to stand. For my effort I was clubbed in the back of my kneecaps by what felt like a steel pipe. A calloused hand gripped the back of my neck and forced me to kneel. My eyes focused, finally adjusted to the bright light. Below me cracked red tiles stretched across the floor, remnants of a clearcoat clinging to the edges of the tiles. Large braziers stoked with roiling flames tinted the room with an ominous orange hue. Centerpiece, a throne made of metal, bone, and that familiar redrock loomed over me. Draped across the sat a devil that looked much like Dedan, but several leagues larger. On either side of the twisted throne stood guards, each of them an unsettling mix of grasshopper, man, and crustacean. In their hands, er, claws they gripped spears made from lengths of rusted metal. Dedan rattled his chains, trying in vain to shuck his coils. Towering behind us the original lobster monster kept his spear pointed at the nape of my neck. All-in-all it was a pretty shitty welcome party.
“Greetings Dedan,” the devil’s doppleganger spoke, “I see you’re still as disappointing as ever.”
Dedan did not answer. He had stopped fidgeting and instead started to stare at his feet, avoiding any possible chance of eye contact with his doppelganger. Just who the hell was this guy? Up until now my companion had been a constant source of snark and now he was reduced to more of a bitch than he was before. “Who the hell are you?” I asked and attempted to stand again. They did not stop my ascent, they didn’t have to. The doppelganger gazed upon me with equal parts disdain and apathy. He did not answer my question. Instead he rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. With a sound similar to a bullwhip the mantella’s tongue snapped around my neck and pulled me back onto my ass. My hair stood on end and an absolute fuckton of electric current was forced through my body. Needless to say my contentious attitude was curbstomped.
“Now, as I was saying,” the doppelganger said, “you’re lucky I am merciful, Dedan, if father was still alive he’d have flayed you already, now would you kindly tell me why you’re this human’s prisoner?”
Again Dedan did not respond.
“Awh, you’ve got nothing to say?”
“What is there to say?” Dedan finally answered, “you’re going to kill me regardless.”
The devil laughed and clapped his hands together. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?” he asked. Dedan’s doppelganger left his throne and started to walk towards us. He moved with the urgency of molasses. His tail twitched and his wings shuddered. “Release him,” he said nodding towards Dedan. Without hesitation one of the crustacean sentinels shattered Dedan’s chains using its pincer. “Dear Dedan,” the doppelganger said and placed a hand on Dedan’s cheek, “dear Dedan, runt of the litter and disappointment to the family.” The hand slithered from his cheek to Dedan’s throat and squeezed. Dedan sputtered and choked. He clawed at his attacker's forearm, but the devil’s leathery hide was all but impervious to Dedan’s thrashing. “Dear Dedan, dear Dedan, not even worth the breath in his lungs, dear Dedan, unfit to be my servant, let alone my brother.” Every muscle on Dedan’s body strained and struggled, but his brother’s grip was implacable. His red skin turned purple. He gagged. He thrashed. He floundered. He fell limp. “Dead Dedan, going to meet his father.”
“Stop,” I shouted, “release him!”
Dedan’s brother sighed and turned towards me, dragging Dedan’s limp body like a ragdoll. My fleshy collar pulled tight against my throat and I struggled to stand. “Do you not know your place human?” the devil asked, “Do you not understand where you are?”
“Listen to me, and listen good shithead,” I began, my throat rumbling with anger, “Dedan is my property, and I won’t sit here while you destroy what is mine, I don’t care where we are, you will not take him from me.”
You could’ve heard a metaphorical pin drop, hell if it wasn’t for the ever present sound of distant machinery you could’ve heard a literal pin drop. A snap of the finger signaled another dose of tongue-taser and I found myself staring at the ceiling. I rolled over onto my side and took a mental inventory of my priorities. It wasn’t that I truly cared whether Dedan lived or died, but the fuckin’ arrogance of his brother flipped a trigger within my psyche. There was a thud next to me as Dedan’s limp body was cast aside like a sack of refuse. The mantella’s tongue unwrapped itself and left behind a slimy ring around my throat. In its place bony fingers clamped down and lifted me to my feet. Face-to-face with Dedan’s brother I was met with ochre eyes and the hate that burned behind them. “Such imputence, such arrogance human,” he said, taking his time to enunciate each syllable, “I suppose that is indicative of your kind, but forgive me if it still surprises me.”
“Bit me,” I choked out.
“This is not your precious Coruscant outsider, this is the Underverse, your defiant words mean little to me,” he said and squeezed tighter. A pressure began to build between my ears and my eyes started watering. “However,” his grip relaxed, “I find your claims of ownership in regards to my brother amusing, tell me your name.”
“Cicada,” I answered after a coughing fit, “and you would be?”
“Deblin Morriel, first spawn of Zaire Morriel,” he answered.
“Look buddy,” I said, “if you’re gonna kill me, just go ahead and do it, I’m not interested in playing out this whole charade.”
Deblin relinquished his grip and turned his back to me. A sudden urge to punch him in the back of the head swallowed me, but I did my best to ignore it. With his signature sense of urgency Deblin sauntered back to his throne and took a seat. He motioned towards one of his guards and the creature left the room, returning shortly with a goblet. Deblin took the cup and drank from it. This was getting a bit ridiculous. As I’d come to learn, devils have a thing for grandiose gestures to the point of absurdity. Dedan coughed and squirmed as he recovered from asphyxiation.
“Cicada, what an odd name,” Deblin noted, took a sip, and continued, “I assume you were sent here against your will?”
“Well, more or less,” I shrugged and answered.
“I assume you wish to return?”
“To be honest I haven’t given it much thought, I just got here.”
“Interesting,” Deblin said, raising an eyebrow as he watched his brother sit up, “well, you belong to me now Cicada, and in return for your service you will be rewarded with a way back to the surface.”
“You know how to leave the Underverse?” I asked.
“No, but Diablo does, and provided you prove your worth to him he may see it fit to secure your escape.”
“Okay, what’s the catch?”
“You must fight for me.”
He went on to explain the system of gladiatorial combat upon which a large amount of the Underverse’s infrastructure was built upon. Champions fight for blood, glory, and a chance for freedom. I was to be one of Deblin’s many gladiators, and given the situation there wasn’t much choice in it for me. He explained that his father was once a grand general in Diablo’s army, and that the Morriel family was once a respected clan amongst the denizens of the Underverse. However, after a power struggle in which Dedan had fled to save his own life, all that remained of the family was Deblin and his younger brother. If the Morriel clan could put forth a powerful champion they could rise from the ashes of their legacy and once again become a respected house.
“I suppose I can’t just say ‘no thank you’ can I?” I asked.
“Well, you could, but let’s just say it wouldn’t be very conducive to your well being.” He responded.
Dedan had finally become lucid and sat rubbing his sore neck. “Dedan,” Deblin said, forcing the smaller demon to snap to attention, “you belong to Cicada now, serve him to the best of your meager abilities.”
“But,” Dedan began, but was cut short.”
“Do not test my patience, the only reason you are alive right now is because this is a more fitting punishment than your death,” his brother said, “you abandoned your clan, and now you must pay for your cowardice, now guards, remove them from my presence.”
My eyes burned as they readjusted to the bright light. Without seeing, without even thinking my body clambered upwards in an attempt to stand. For my effort I was clubbed in the back of my kneecaps by what felt like a steel pipe. A calloused hand gripped the back of my neck and forced me to kneel. My eyes focused, finally adjusted to the bright light. Below me cracked red tiles stretched across the floor, remnants of a clearcoat clinging to the edges of the tiles. Large braziers stoked with roiling flames tinted the room with an ominous orange hue. Centerpiece, a throne made of metal, bone, and that familiar redrock loomed over me. Draped across the sat a devil that looked much like Dedan, but several leagues larger. On either side of the twisted throne stood guards, each of them an unsettling mix of grasshopper, man, and crustacean. In their hands, er, claws they gripped spears made from lengths of rusted metal. Dedan rattled his chains, trying in vain to shuck his coils. Towering behind us the original lobster monster kept his spear pointed at the nape of my neck. All-in-all it was a pretty shitty welcome party.
“Greetings Dedan,” the devil’s doppleganger spoke, “I see you’re still as disappointing as ever.”
Dedan did not answer. He had stopped fidgeting and instead started to stare at his feet, avoiding any possible chance of eye contact with his doppelganger. Just who the hell was this guy? Up until now my companion had been a constant source of snark and now he was reduced to more of a bitch than he was before. “Who the hell are you?” I asked and attempted to stand again. They did not stop my ascent, they didn’t have to. The doppelganger gazed upon me with equal parts disdain and apathy. He did not answer my question. Instead he rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. With a sound similar to a bullwhip the mantella’s tongue snapped around my neck and pulled me back onto my ass. My hair stood on end and an absolute fuckton of electric current was forced through my body. Needless to say my contentious attitude was curbstomped.
“Now, as I was saying,” the doppelganger said, “you’re lucky I am merciful, Dedan, if father was still alive he’d have flayed you already, now would you kindly tell me why you’re this human’s prisoner?”
Again Dedan did not respond.
“Awh, you’ve got nothing to say?”
“What is there to say?” Dedan finally answered, “you’re going to kill me regardless.”
The devil laughed and clapped his hands together. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?” he asked. Dedan’s doppelganger left his throne and started to walk towards us. He moved with the urgency of molasses. His tail twitched and his wings shuddered. “Release him,” he said nodding towards Dedan. Without hesitation one of the crustacean sentinels shattered Dedan’s chains using its pincer. “Dear Dedan,” the doppelganger said and placed a hand on Dedan’s cheek, “dear Dedan, runt of the litter and disappointment to the family.” The hand slithered from his cheek to Dedan’s throat and squeezed. Dedan sputtered and choked. He clawed at his attacker's forearm, but the devil’s leathery hide was all but impervious to Dedan’s thrashing. “Dear Dedan, dear Dedan, not even worth the breath in his lungs, dear Dedan, unfit to be my servant, let alone my brother.” Every muscle on Dedan’s body strained and struggled, but his brother’s grip was implacable. His red skin turned purple. He gagged. He thrashed. He floundered. He fell limp. “Dead Dedan, going to meet his father.”
“Stop,” I shouted, “release him!”
Dedan’s brother sighed and turned towards me, dragging Dedan’s limp body like a ragdoll. My fleshy collar pulled tight against my throat and I struggled to stand. “Do you not know your place human?” the devil asked, “Do you not understand where you are?”
“Listen to me, and listen good shithead,” I began, my throat rumbling with anger, “Dedan is my property, and I won’t sit here while you destroy what is mine, I don’t care where we are, you will not take him from me.”
You could’ve heard a metaphorical pin drop, hell if it wasn’t for the ever present sound of distant machinery you could’ve heard a literal pin drop. A snap of the finger signaled another dose of tongue-taser and I found myself staring at the ceiling. I rolled over onto my side and took a mental inventory of my priorities. It wasn’t that I truly cared whether Dedan lived or died, but the fuckin’ arrogance of his brother flipped a trigger within my psyche. There was a thud next to me as Dedan’s limp body was cast aside like a sack of refuse. The mantella’s tongue unwrapped itself and left behind a slimy ring around my throat. In its place bony fingers clamped down and lifted me to my feet. Face-to-face with Dedan’s brother I was met with ochre eyes and the hate that burned behind them. “Such imputence, such arrogance human,” he said, taking his time to enunciate each syllable, “I suppose that is indicative of your kind, but forgive me if it still surprises me.”
“Bit me,” I choked out.
“This is not your precious Coruscant outsider, this is the Underverse, your defiant words mean little to me,” he said and squeezed tighter. A pressure began to build between my ears and my eyes started watering. “However,” his grip relaxed, “I find your claims of ownership in regards to my brother amusing, tell me your name.”
“Cicada,” I answered after a coughing fit, “and you would be?”
“Deblin Morriel, first spawn of Zaire Morriel,” he answered.
“Look buddy,” I said, “if you’re gonna kill me, just go ahead and do it, I’m not interested in playing out this whole charade.”
Deblin relinquished his grip and turned his back to me. A sudden urge to punch him in the back of the head swallowed me, but I did my best to ignore it. With his signature sense of urgency Deblin sauntered back to his throne and took a seat. He motioned towards one of his guards and the creature left the room, returning shortly with a goblet. Deblin took the cup and drank from it. This was getting a bit ridiculous. As I’d come to learn, devils have a thing for grandiose gestures to the point of absurdity. Dedan coughed and squirmed as he recovered from asphyxiation.
“Cicada, what an odd name,” Deblin noted, took a sip, and continued, “I assume you were sent here against your will?”
“Well, more or less,” I shrugged and answered.
“I assume you wish to return?”
“To be honest I haven’t given it much thought, I just got here.”
“Interesting,” Deblin said, raising an eyebrow as he watched his brother sit up, “well, you belong to me now Cicada, and in return for your service you will be rewarded with a way back to the surface.”
“You know how to leave the Underverse?” I asked.
“No, but Diablo does, and provided you prove your worth to him he may see it fit to secure your escape.”
“Okay, what’s the catch?”
“You must fight for me.”
He went on to explain the system of gladiatorial combat upon which a large amount of the Underverse’s infrastructure was built upon. Champions fight for blood, glory, and a chance for freedom. I was to be one of Deblin’s many gladiators, and given the situation there wasn’t much choice in it for me. He explained that his father was once a grand general in Diablo’s army, and that the Morriel family was once a respected clan amongst the denizens of the Underverse. However, after a power struggle in which Dedan had fled to save his own life, all that remained of the family was Deblin and his younger brother. If the Morriel clan could put forth a powerful champion they could rise from the ashes of their legacy and once again become a respected house.
“I suppose I can’t just say ‘no thank you’ can I?” I asked.
“Well, you could, but let’s just say it wouldn’t be very conducive to your well being.” He responded.
Dedan had finally become lucid and sat rubbing his sore neck. “Dedan,” Deblin said, forcing the smaller demon to snap to attention, “you belong to Cicada now, serve him to the best of your meager abilities.”
“But,” Dedan began, but was cut short.”
“Do not test my patience, the only reason you are alive right now is because this is a more fitting punishment than your death,” his brother said, “you abandoned your clan, and now you must pay for your cowardice, now guards, remove them from my presence.”