Sickening Conclusions

Velentham left Ieridenth's room and passed through the band of roudy men who were fast growing drunk.  He walked to the corner of the immense cavern and sat down on the ground where the wall gave way to a nook.  It afforded a small measure of solitude.   He stared at his hands, his vision still milk white, his own visage slowly changing from bright light in the midst of the  white, to a dimmer color.  Gray. 

There was no mistaking what it meant.  He wasn't clean in his own consciousness, and it was growing apparent.  It had to be  his agreement with Ieridenth, siding with the sleazy undercurrent of this world, that was changing him.  There was no other reason that he could accept. 

Velentham let out a growling sigh and shook his head.  At least if he could get out of here, his vision would have some level of normalcy.  He wouldn't have to see what he'd become.  But even with freedom... he could never return home.  The ties that held him, kept him above everything, his birthright, was no longer his.  He had everything taken from him - his righteousness, his standing, his ability to stand behind his people.  He was like a butterfly with its wings pulled off - a caterpillar with memories of flight.

His eyes narrowed a bit more.  All he'd ever wanted was the love of Sanria, the comfort of his father's demi-plane, and a family that he could raise and protect.  At least he punished his cousin thoroughly for ruining that, even if it did mean he had to kill what he loved. 

Velentham felt the twinge in his gut and his anger elevate.  It was difficult enough to be in this place, surrounded by evil,  but with each negative emotion, he began to spiral farther down still.  Why not get out of here and do whatever he wanted?  He was still better than everyone else, smarter than even the tribunal that sentenced him here.  There was no reason he wouldn't be able to command numbers to do as he willed.  There was nothing left to stop him.

As Velentham felt these thoughts, realizing he wanted nothing but to punish everyone alive for how he felt,  he also noticed the gray color of himself in his vision ever growing darker - increment by increment.

Plans for Destiny

The high born celestial was harder to handle than Ieridenth had ever anticipated.  It was easy to see why he was cast out and  put in this place; he was a violent, arrogant, and mouthy being with a propensity to wish death on any who disagreed with him. Ieridenth had to break up so many arguments, so many fights, and now, near death.  It was cumbersome to say the least.

Satisfied he had put the issue to rest, Ieridenth went into his room and closed the door behind him.  He thumbed through his  books, to no avail.  What he needed was not there.  He closed his eyes and left his body.  It was a skill none of the Fallen Fallen knew he had, and he wasn't going to share.  It was a bit of a cross between Astral Projection and physically being there.It was very little energy for him to project himself, but if he wanted something...

Ieridenth whipped into the Crawling City, his projection unseen by the denizens who stood making plans and deals.  He went into the home of the General, into the library he knew was there.  He sought through the tomes at his leisure until stumbling across the leather-bound spine bearing the words, "Celestial Brutes of the Planes of Elysium." Ieridenth looked around his projection.  He was alone in the room.

He incanted yet another spell that brought him some measure of physicality, and conjured his bag of invisibility.  Deftly he whisked the book off the shelf and into the bag, all while the body sitting far away in the cavern was sweating with concentration.  He was losing energy fast, and so Ieridenth worked his projection out of the General's home, flew through the city's moving streets.

Ieridenth let out a loud exhale of breath as the tome slid from the bag into his hands.  He smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead and cracked open the book.  'Dedicated to the brothers and sisters we have lost to the bloodthirsty and self-righteous cravings of the Celestials.  May their fall be far and their deaths be painful.'  He let out a chuckle and turned to the contents,  his eyes finally seeing what he was looking for:

'Chapter 7: Guardinals and Their Uses'

High Born Bastard

Ieridenth's chambers were small for his size, but they were his. Unlike the others of the Fallen Fallen who had to sleep and stay in the cavern commons, as leader, he was afforded a small space to call his own.  Here, he kept books piled at the side of his desk.  He had conjured them all, conjured the paper he used to write his notes, conjured the quill to write with, conjured the ink with which to write.  He knew a lot about this place and  was adept enough with his blades to fight when needed, magical enough to shatter demons when required.  Just not magical enough to figure out the riddles.

He'd found them in places, heavily guarded by demonic sentinels, portals black as the bowels of darkness.  He had yet to see any go through them, but he knew that's what they were.  He couldn't read the inscribed runes on the sides of the portals, and that  was his failing.  Just not skilled enough...

He pulled a large tome from the stack of books.  This one was different than all the others.  This one held all his personal papers.  He opened it, dusting the leaves of paper within, ready to add another to his collection.  He took a blank sheet and  dipped his quill:

By the favor of the old gods and the grace of the new, I knew I wasn't forgotten in the depths of this hell. Into my lap has fallen a gift in the guise of the planeswalker's son.  He claims he does not hold his father's gifts, but one cannot traverse planes under the tutelage of one so wizened as Telfenham was rumored to be and not have skill.  Whether or not he can use the planes, all I have need of is the trust of this Celestial and then his skill as a wizard in reading the runes that have eluded me for so long.  I shall be free in short order.  I may not be able to return home, but I shall not be forced to endure this place.  Such is my wish.  So it shall be.

He dusted this page, drying the ink, and placed it in the tome. It shut with a satisfying "thunk" and he slid it on top of the books.  He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, with a smug grin.  Hell was no place for a Celestial.

Accepting Insults

Velentham laid in the cavernous home of the Fallen Fallen with calculating eyes.  The men that came in were jovial enough, and most seemed willing to share with him whatever bounty they came across.  As unbelievable as it was, this hellish place had cities tucked away, populated by demons.  The Fallen Fallen would go out in droves, catch wealthy demons unawares, slay them and take their money, trinkets, and gems.  They added them to the hoard and used them to barter with higher demons later. 

"Ey, lad," Gurk called, shuffling into the cavern.  "Thinkin' ya might take a shinin' ta fixin up yourn leg and joinin us next time?"
"Ya got yer magic, fix it already, bloody hell," joined Rourke.
"I don't feel like it," said Velentham.
"Right princess, this un," Gurk said with a snort.
"Watch your tongue," Velentham hissed.
"Or what?  You'll actually get up n' do somethin' fer a change?"

Velentham began to chant.  In his eyes, the entire cavern was the color of milk in water, the bodies of the men inside showed as dark, like shadows.  It was the way he saw evil, a way that enabled him to see in any light, to target, to hunt.  He could feel the massive voltage growing, traveling his limbs to his hand held aloft.  He could feel the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle with restrained energy, then he let it go.

The white hot light shot through the space and suddenly vanished. Velentham snarled as he jerked his eyes over to Ieridenth.  'The swaggering idiot,' Velentham thought. 
"That's no way to treat your hosts," Ieridenth smirked.  "And you, Gurk, watch your mouth.  Our guest is healing."
"Guest my bald arse," he snapped.  "He tried ta kill me he did."
"You deserved it," Ieridenth grinned.
"Son of hell," Gurk cursed.
"Friend," Ieridenth said, walking to Velentham, "You have to excuse Gurk.  Sometimes we don't get along down in this pit, but if we always flung lightning there'd not be enough of us to go around."

Velentham glared at Ieridenth, who looked the color of a shadow in the milky whiteness.  He knew he was dealing with beings just as twisted as those in Heifong, the only difference was that now he saw them as they were.  He closed his eyes with a grumble and shoved his ire with Gurk from his mind.

Making Plans for Escape

"Yes.  Even those, I guess."

Ieridenth grinned broadly and sat on his desk.  He leaned forward, his face near to Velentham's.  "Don't you know that is such a  coincidence that I could cloak us as those beasts to get us to the first portal.  If you could use your magic..."
"And what happens when we get out, idiot?  Where do you think we can go?  I can't do what my father did, so-"
"What does that matter?" Ieridenth soothed.  "If we can get to the Outlands, we can do wherever we want.  Stay in Torch, or move to other places.  Sigil is right up the spire-"
"I know," Velentham spat.
"Then, what would you have?  Here, or freedom?"

Ieridenth smiled, a look of gracious magnanimity infiltrating his every feature.  He held to the hope that the desire to be free of this place would course through Velentham's heart - and he wasn't disappointed.  "So," Velentham said quietly, "You disguise us as insects and get us to the portals.  I read them and unlock them, and lead us out to Torch?"
"Yes."
"So I do all the work."

Ieridenth felt the cold chill of hatred run through him for a moment before he smiled again.  The arrogance of this one was unparalleled.
"Without me you would have no hope of finding the portals.  I feel that is beyond equal in our escape."
"And what of your - men?"
"Those of simple minds must fend for themselves, right?  After all, they are not Celestial as we are.  Hell is not a proper home for  our greatness.  Wouldn't you agree?"
"And what if we must fight?"
"Then we must.  Once in Torch, we can part ways, or, if you'd like, you could hire my services."
"What need would I possibly have of you?"
"One never knows when my special talents will come in handy."

Exploitation of Treasure

Ieridenth read for a long while, ignoring the sounds of raucous and drunken laughter from beyond his door.  His eyes were intent on the passage before him:

"Guardinals are all known to possess the ability to speak with any animal."

Did any animal include insects?  Ieridenth sat back for a moment, his fingers on his chin.  If he could disguise himself and Velentham as Mezzoloths, even speaking as them, they might have a chance. The problem would be ensuring Velentham didn't go crazy.  He was already spiraling down the longer he was here.  It aggravated Ieridenth having to call off his men to deal with the petty squabbles they all got into. 

He closed the book and placed it beneath a few others on the pile beside his desk.  Then he got up and walked to the door, peeking his head out.  "Friend, Velentham," he called.  Once he had Velentham's attention, he waved a hand.  "Come, let's chat."
"What do you want?" Velentham said as he approached.

Ieridenth closed the door behind them, noting how big Velentham seemed in the small space of his room.  He held his hand out to his chair.  "Please, sit."  Velentham obeyed.  "How good are you at reading runes?""Expert," the Guardinal snorted.
"Even demonic runes?"
"Runes are simple, much like those who can't read them."

Ieridenth let the insult slide and he grinned lightly.  "I have a proposition for you, my friend.  One I think would be mutually beneficial for both of us."
"Go on."
"There are portals in this land which lead to the various levels of Gehenna and eventually," here Ieridenth paused and fluttered his hand to the sky in a grand gesture, "out."
"That is how most of these forsaken places work.  What is the proposition?"
"You can speak to animals, can you not?"
"I try not to link with simple minds." Again, Ieridenth let the insult slide.  "But you can."
"Yes."
"Even those insects that had you on the ground simpering like an invalid and ready to accept death?"

This time, Ieridenth smiled at the fresh bloom of red that came over Velentham's cheeks.  Insult delivered, action required.

The Fallen Fallen

"Ruddy high born, idn'ee?"
"Aye, look at 'is arrogant face.  Blimey."
"An his smug look.  Right bastard, this one.  What ya go an' bring 'im 'ere for, Iree?  Shoulda let 'im get skewered."
"Shut up, idiots.  He's still got juice left to burn."
"Oy, plannin' on usin 'im up?"
"I plan on bringing him into the fold and maybe getting the hell out of here finally.  Longer he stays, though, the less he'll know."
"What makes you think 'e's gonna know anyfin?"
"He's a high born bastard."
----
Velentham's eyes opened slowly, the blazing white of Celestial vision less intense now, though still the figures surrounding him revealed as gray... not quite as bad as the Mezzoloths, but still...
"Where..."
"Easy," said the raspy voice.  "You've had quite the tussle.  Gurk patched your leg, Fdelph is working the healing, you'll excuse him, he's a novice."
"Like hell, asshole," Fdelph returned in his gruff, aged voice. The raspy voice laughed and looked back.  Velentham could see from under the hood the violet eyes that stared back at him.  "An Eladrin?"
"Eh, once," came the rasp.  "Fallen down the rungs, like you."
"Right Shiere, this 'un."
"Aye, til he took a shinin' to 'is bosses lass and boinked 'er  wi' 'is wee stick."
"That's not why I'm here, Gurk."
Gurk let out a snickering laugh.  "Oh, aye.  It's what started it, though, too right?"

"Where am I?" Velentham asked, feeling a bit stronger.  He sat up, still woozy, and looked into the purple eyes.  The man pulled back his cowl to reveal slender elf-like features with an unmistakable Celestial twist. 
"Underground cave of the Fallen Fallen."
"Is what we call ournselves," Fdelph said, finishing the knot on the rag binding Velentham's leg.
"Fallen Fallen," Velentham repeated.
"Yes.  I am Ieridenth Kelearith, Eladrin Shiere, Knight of Norfalt Peren, resident of Arborea.  Once resident, anyway."
"And now?"
"Anger got the better of me when Norfalt insulted me for sleeping with his little girl.  Though to my credit, she wasn't so little, and she sure wasn't built like a girl."

The laughter of the other castaways filled the cavern and echoed off the rocks, and for the first time, Velentham looked around. He was in a massive rocky room where torches burned against the walls at the sides of magic orbs.  Cobbled together furniture lay strewn about, filled with all manner of once higher natured beings in various states of repose.  "So, what did you do?" Velentham asked.
"To Norfalt?"
"Yes."
"Gutted him.  It wasn't my finest moment."  Ieridenth shrugged. 
"And who are you?"
"Velentham Arenfeld, Avoral Guardinal, son of Telfenham Arenfeld
of Elysium."
"Ah, the planes traveler's son."
"You've heard of my father?"
"Of course.  Let's hope you have some of what he had, eh?"

Ieridenth held out his hand and Velentham took it, shaking it with cautious reserve.  "What brings you here?" Ieridenth asked. "Love."  And the cavern was once again filled with male laughter.