Phnom Ice Cream [OPEN/NPC ENCOUNTER]

January 26th
11:59 AM
Stygian Tundra, Great Ice Plateau

Great abundance of snow lay flat like an A-cup set of tits, soft and mound-like as the terrain stretches afar unto the horizon that the eyes can see. Aravad the Despoiler walked his trot trot path merry way through forth the fields in which he made progress, advancing throughout the cold tundra that were licking his skin with snow. But like his pasty white ass exterior that he found naught but the consistent to his skin, for he has often went about these cold conditions alike his homeland, Norway. Going about aimless and purposeless without direction, finding no solace but to walk forth as the question begs, how did he get here? And what in the flying fuck is going on?

Truly, his vision expanded forth for he had a mirror to look about, perplexing optics observed and radiated visuals to sheen upon hind. The weight of being lost did not settle well thus with him, for Aravad was a free bird that flew about with no end, going wherever the wind takes him... metaphorically speaking. Otherwise he'd be going to his left given there was a breeze hitting him to his right. The Winter background invaded not his warmth, for layers upon layers sat of clothing appropriate to the situation of Antarctica if need be, and he is the son of snow and Vikings, and a horny Succubus and a horny man. He really wasn't clear on that issue, and he doesn't exactly REALLY KNOW who are his parents, except thinking his foster parents were a bunch of crusty old folks. But point is, he was well aware the Inferis is not the place to be, and honestly after that Hangover in Washington D.C. a few days ago, SOMEHOW he ended up here. Oy vey, this sucks major testicles in context to the situation's bleak setting, for whom truly wishes to find themselves settled and nested upon the bosom of all that is cold and unwelcoming like the divorced ex-wife who wishes to claim every last cent in alimony?

Whatever that be the condition, he leased what ailment upon his cod area, chaffing greatly what were but his most prized jewels in but one fell tug down, pulling and unleashing the tensions forth to be relaxed and full of bliss for it pained him not anymore as the wedgie assaulted him every given opportunity. Thus freeing his mind for more foreign matters to resolve within this tenure be the walk he indulges in.

It was a place worth avoiding, why? Well, do you typically think of hell as a cold place? No, not really. More like Florida but less balmy. With the alligators. Yeah, they were called demons. Pretty much on the same tier. They chomped... andddd that was pretty much it. Except, he had this cool ability to blend in so that chomping bit didn't usually happen. Walking around with golden eyes and ram's horns tended to assist with the whole demon's aura thing too. He was pretty much one of them, except he was alive...and human. Couldn't forget that part. Oh, and he had a job. 'Course demons wouldn't know what that was; they were too busy going around and being brutes, causing people like the Templars and his late father to lose their fucking minds and try to annihilate the very knowledge of such a place. The place itself didn't do anything wrong though. Inferis was just chilling, collecting soul energy and dead people that were bad and stuff. Oftentimes he'd find himself wondering that if hell had a tundra, did heaven have a fire pit? Dualism was stretched to its max here, any further and he was sure it would break...in half. Irony, he loved it.

Anywho, today he was wandering around in some place that would land him in Russia if he so chose to return back to the land of the living. There without a passport, he was sure to be arrested and out of a $1545 plane ticket. That was why he was now walking back to the glorious Entropic Chasm, wherein he could return home for work in the morning. However, he couldn't exactly retrace his footsteps due to the fact that it was snowing like Satan's dandruff, so he was pretty much lost. Only capable of seeing a few feet in front of him, Av pulled his fur-lined trench coat tighter around himself, swatting the navy scarf back over his shoulder where it billowed harshly in the wind. If anyone told him this was hell, he wouldn't believe them. But it was.

If he kept walking west, he'd eventually get out of this horrible cold, zero temperature zone, and make it back to a more hell-like place. You know, the type of place that stereotypes envisioned and all that. He was picturing a hot bath right now: steam, candles, roses, wine... It made hit left foot take a step past his right and then his right to budge and move its frostbitten ass another couple inches. Teeth chattering, and gloved hands rubbing together, he was sure that at this point, he wasn't fooling anybody. God forbid a demon find him now in this state, there was human written all over his teary eyes. He pulled blue shades out of his pocket and placed them on his nose, cringing at the added cold from the slight touch of metal. Great, everything was colder looking now, but at least he could appear more grr to any passerby (not that he was expecting company in the middle of a blizzarding tundra in hell).

The Stygian Tundra. With its cold, frozen wastes and its positively unbearable amount of snow (unbearable for modern Earth life, anyway), it would seem almost impossible for anything living to exist here. Yet living creatures thrived in the Tundra; it was truly the wildest place in all of Inferis next to the Darkroot Domain. Thanks to Moloch's rampage across the planet Earth, which would cause the Ice Age, a massive amount of creatures suddenly appeared in the Stygian Tundra in his wake; all of them hungry, all homeless thanks to the monstrous Archdemon's rampage, and every single one of them now a bloodthirsty monster.

One of those monsters was making its way across the Tundra right now. A Toothed Horror, descended from the giant modern carnivore known as Andrewsarchus, was busy stalking in the snowy darkness. Its massive nostrils flared wide as it smelled out prey, its hooved legs pawing at the ground as it searched out signs of others of its kind; those seeking claims for territory, or perhaps potential mates. It was hard to believe that this creature was a demon instead of an animal, for it behaved almost exactly like its prehistoric ancestor...well, almost.

As it sniffed the ground it suddenly paused. There was a new smell in the air. It was a strange smell; sort of sickly-sweet, like a very strange kind of animal that had just eaten a load of fruit that fermented in its gut. Yet it also smelled sort of bitter; metallic, almost like copper. The creature took another lungful and let its mind process what it was smelling.

The massive, almost canine jaws smiled. The Toothed Horror recognized that smell. It was one of the many among its kind that often scoured the halls of Moloch's ice palace for scraps after one of his many ice cream binges, feasting on the blood and bits of meat left behind from his many 'sprinkles.' It was a taste that it enjoyed; a particularly bitter but sickly sweet taste that was addicting, like a drug. It was the taste of human flesh...and a very living, very solid and whole human, raw and untouched by Moloch's ravenous hunger, was making its way downwind.

The beast took a moment to judge the direction in which the human was. It could smell the human making its way downwind, likely avoiding the cold blizzard approaching, and it was coming closer. The Toothed Horror took a moment to orient the best spot for a potential ambush, then made its way quietly through the snow; downwind and away from any potential chance the creature could potentially smell its horrid scent of death and decay.

It was as it moved that it could smell yet another human; just a short distance away from the first. Instincts kicked in and warned the creature. It recognized the potential of humans living in packs, but it also knew that some of these humans were on Moloch's payroll, and that they were dangerous predators; predators one should not be too keen on hunting, at least not alone. Moving away from its hiding spot, it quickly lifted its leg on a nearby tree and began to urinate, letting the very bitter smell make its way downwind and away from the path of the approaching humans. It would ensure that more of its kind would come; better to work together than to die alone.

Satisfied, it lurked back in a dark corner, out of site, and lay still. The snow quickly covered its body, so that only one eye could peer out into the gloom. It would wait here, in this position of hiding, perfectly still and invisible to all, and watch...and wait...

It was as if that circumstances had occurred beyond Aravad's control that from what solitary walk he had would be transgressed though unknown to him by many many other people. Or person, and a bunch of mutant hell dog-cat things from outer space. Not that he knew, he isn't exactly omniscient. Harmless, Aravad felt his pants chaff in the Winter cold, had he not been of Norwegian stock, he would've frozen his ass off, but thankfully Viking powers of being able to withstand being barraged in the face for several times over with snow and not exactly freeze as quickly as everyone else pretty much is a boon on his part. His coat though fluttered coolly within the beating winds as he found himself astray in a path of a dilemma that be directionless so. It were not as if he made way anywhere but upward.

With such numbness spreading throughout his body, Aravad had the option of trekking across and potentially have frostbitten fingers black from cold necrosis. Alas, things are not looking well for our hero unless... he did the INTELLIGENT THING in the middle of the tundra, not that it was his first time here, as flames spewed out of his fingers unto the snowy ice. Melting it as steam billowed out, from beyond the nipple mound that was the hill ice. It were not snow, nay, but rather a glacier spiraling into the skies that by coincidences that be, Aravad made way on top by path alone as beyond yonder from what was immediate would be the later and eventual forests up ahead. Steam arose atop signalling the source of heat, as clothes departed from the Viking descendant's figure, skivvies drab him that be what humbles him from unveiling his pride unto the world, as he dipped into the bubbling water, flanked from all by the natural rocks long buried in the ice as he hung his head back whilst seated with his arm lapped around the rock edge, his head hung back on the smooth rock as well slightly, looking at the mirror to see his hair hugging closer to his cranium. He could pretty much enjoy the scenery all around as this hillish ice as the man-made hot spring was huge enough to house ten people, an inconsistent feature in the great vast flat snow plains, has given him a peaceful and serene feeling. It reminded him of his native Norway, overlooking the fact there were murderous hell beasts with an appetite prowling around here. NOT REALLY his first time in Inferis after all. Calm; he scratched his ass.

The water warmed him, bringing forth a torrent of heat swirling around his numbed finger tips. What warmth longed for restored, as Aravad already sprinkled a bunch of roses, and have stored a handy wine in TIMES LIKE THESE. TOO BAD NOBODY ELSE THOUGHT OF THIS. He popped open the vintage 1858, and took one hearty swig of the red wine. Setting about a few candles around earlier before he dipped that was, into the man-made hot spring, lighting it with but a flick of his fingers as it burst into life. The fine waxy aroma passed his nostrils, as the blizzard accented the taste of the wine. The steam warmed him and he wasn't freezing his ass off anymore. AHHH, this was the good life. THE GOOD LIFE WHERE NOBODY THOUGHT to ACTUALLY bring some wine, petals, candles, and whatnot. Sure he is in imminent danger of being attacked at any time, but that's a risk worth taking for erm... tactical reasons. Right. Tactical distractions and relaxations before he'd probably leave to somewhere more enterprising.

HE SMELLED WINE. It--it was like an oasis in the desert--a stirring of life in Death Valley--a spur of hope!! Through the jagged onslaught of snowflake after snowflake, he could just barely make out a cloud of steam rising up from a high point in the snowdrifts. Ahead--just ahead there was a promise of some degree of warmth perhaps. He began moving towards it like a moth to the flame, coerced and summoned by aroma alone. His yellowed eyes blinking away wetness, he eventually came within sight of the--was that a hot spring? He couldn't really tell per say, but that's what it was starting to look like. Stamping through the snow with numbed feet, he made it up and over one more hurdle before slamming head first into one of the strangest scenarios he had ever before encountered. This was hell, right? He was starting to think otherwise. Of all the things. Of of the possible things, he would have never bet money on this one. There was a man. This man was drinking ancient wine (he could tell by the sweet, sullen smell dinged about with tinge of dry). He was enjoying himself. In the middle of a blizzard. In hell. Okay. Well, there were worse things, he guessed, than seeing a man stark naked in the dead of winter. And by dead, he meant that they weren't. Probably, what, the seldom few hanging around this place who were still breathing? That was enough as it was, but now there were candles. Reiterate: candles Where the fuck did this guy get candles--did he carry them around with him?! The first thing to do would be to calm down.

Right, think training. It was better to just not freak out and--candles, really?! It was like a sick joke--like someone invaded his brain and pulled out his deepest desire, spreading about in this place and waving it in front of him as if to tempt him with jealously. Wait. Wasn't that just it though? This really was hell. That guy had everything he wanted and it wasn't fair. Like first grade all over again, it was facing that horrible hatred. Shuddering in a pit of self-loathing, Avery spread his legs and pointed a quaking finger. "You," he stammered, "are you even human!?" Okay, so it gave him away a little bit. The horns on top of his head said otherwise, but his words screamed human. He may have the demeaning aura, but he definitely was a bad actor. At least for now...what with wine being teased about in his face. It didn't help that he was lost and deprived among other things.

He was cold, and completely defenseless, but honestly? He didn't really care. He didn't care if he was found out by this guy, whether he really was human or pretending to be; (in his book, no human could be this cruel so as to read his every desire and display it like this within his grasp). Ugh! Frustration was written all over him, yet he had nothing to really show for it or dish out in return. He could only be angry, disturbed, and go on his merry way or die. He had absolutely no means of defending or protecting himself aside from his demon mimicry, whose cover was just rudely blown by this charade.

The Toothed Horror opened one eye, careful not to disturb the layer of snow that covered its body perfectly. The human was within sight now, not more than 20 yards away. It had managed to melt the snow and created a hot spring, and currently was shedding its extra skin and bathing itself in its warmth.

Heat. The memory awakened in the creature. A genetic memory of a land filled with drought, dry plants trodden underfoot and dust kicking into its massive nose. It was a time of famine and woe, but also a time of plenty for its kind. Its species had done well feeding upon the carcasses of the dead, stripping sun-dried flesh from bone with all the ravenous gluttony any hoofed carnivore could emulate. It was right at that time that Moloch had showed up, devastating the planet and transforming the land into one of solid ice...killing an ecosystem that was already on the verge of extinction.

It didn't ponder on these memories for long, of course. Its mind was a bestial one, filled with cunning and relentless hunger; an appetite to match the frozen cold of the Stygian Tundra. Already its nostrils could detect the faint trace of its kind, approaching nearby in the shadows. The hunt could begin soon.

Soon the second human showed up, starting to bicker at the other like a monkey would over stolen food. Neither noticed a thing as they were both surrounded by at least half a dozen Toothed Horrors, their mouths slabbering and ready for a meager feast of human flesh. Their long, pointed snouts could detect the smell of their brethren's urine for miles, and they all came to join in the hunt. Each of them ranged in size from 15 to 20 feet in length, coming up to about a man's full height at the shoulder. A good 1/6-1/5 of that length was in snout, their skulls filled with conical, serrated teeth long as a human thumb apiece. All of them bore the spotted, coarse gray fur of their ancestors, which helped them blend in almost perfectly in the blizzard cold.

They each took up positions, careful to keep themselves out of sight from the burning lights the humans prized themselves on. Blending in with the snow and shadows, they circled slow, careful to remain downwind of the pair while still surrounding them and cutting off all exits. They weren't naturally pack hunters, but centuries of evolution in the Stygian Tundra and long lengths of time between meals told them it was best to adapt or die, and each was very, very hungry...

The Toothed Horrors had come to dinner...

Furthermore does he carelessly and intrepidly enjoy his steam bath amidst all the snow that bathed him beforewise. Now he is free of such forlorn concepts in ever so enriching captivation of luxury and steamy hotspring bathing. He drew forth and stared out into the great beyond yonder before his shaded spectacled eyes, it was just snow, a lack of solace settling into Aravad's stomach as he realized he must nonetheless trek across, but the comfort of the steams would guarantee he has much needed warmth in regards to his own journey, lest he find himself frozen in what journey undertaken. OF COURSE, Aravad was not naked, as he was wearing SKIVVIES. Otherwise it was easy to mistake his exterior to be in the nude given the water ripples have fluctuated and bent about in order to make it seem like nothing is worn when on the contrary black speedos are what shield him from complete nudity, hence his otherwise half-naked state. GIVEN HE IS NOT NAKED. Now that point is reiterated, back to Aravad's spectacle.

ALAS, fate had decreed it thus that Aravad would perhaps have fun with his winery and what not perhaps due to some MYSTERIOUS INKLING and force from beyond. The cosmos delved down below and infected his cranium with that of cognitive desire for something otherwise he had not, hence what had manifested be a complete and utter and SHEER coincidence otherwise to what French person that faces would be the Norwegian, Europe vis-á-vis both alike and yet completely different. One Viking and the other perhaps a Norman? Regardless such facts eludes Aravad for simply they were not present in the first place. English was spoken in which the international language beckoned for his attention a most strangest sight, for even that be of the infernal realm, they speak not English and especially conduct it all in demonic. Treachery is their game, and their pride keeps them from delving forth into the meek position of being subservient, thus the ones without in this equation that is of the box. A finger was stabbed at the air in his direction as he pondered upon the meaning of this intrusion before his eyes.

He stood up and stretched, flexing his back right and left, arms spaced away from his chest as his eyes picked up on a most peculiar sight. There were no trees from far beyond in this flat lands, and they perfectly overlooked everything. Him and the mysterious interloper that be before him. Aravad stood up, hot water dripping, wine bottle floating, as he reached for his pants. Injecting both his legs within the confines of his clothing, throwing on his shirt, his coat, and finally putting on his shoes. The cloth absorbed the water but made it slightly moist and soggy from within as Aravad had noted indeed he was not exactly alone aside from the bewildered stranger before him that appeared from out of nowhere. Funny really how he had snuck by when Aravad had especially peeled his eyes for the smallest disturbance given this were but hostile lands nonetheless as he turned around and gazed at the Frenchman's bewildered face. An air of feigned ignorance descended upon Aravad as he played along the charade the land sung to.

"I believe so I am human last I checked." Aravad replied in his always calm demeanor, "Though circumstances as you can see ill afford the proof for what pomp may diminish such credence, given my presence here... as to yours. He pushed the rims of his shades up, shaking his head about as heated water sprinkles about, melting the snow around and some flicked at Avery albeit unintentionally, "And to you, sir, are you human as well?"

Avery, American through and through, looked upon the steam as a Catch-22. The sight was, of course, something of desire, but he used common sense. To get in and enjoy the warmth would be to freeze once one got out to go on their merry way. Seeing the man--this stranger rise from the heat and back into the cold made Av shudder at the mere thought of such a feat. Sodden and impaled by snowflake after snowflake, the heated water would soon turn to ace, lacing his skin and making him probably colder than he started. By the wine--oh, the wine would probably make everything better, except it would muddle his mind in haze rather than keep him on his toes from prey. This was hell after all. So in the end, it was rather easy for the blonde to scoff and look straight at the guy with something relative to you're-a-fucking-idiot. It didn't reach his eyes; there was too much him there--too much kindness hidden away within the blue beneath the yellow hue. Deep inside, he was no demon.

The man pulled on his clothes, but he tried not to watch, busying himself instead with admiring the--the, well, the endless white nothingness surrounding them. God, this was a joke. He cringing, thinking about the idea of fabric clinging to wet skin, and getting blown at by the blizzard. Ugh. It was a horror he never wanted to experience. Though his feet were numb as fuck and he really wanted to go home sometime soon. Where it was warm. And he could sit by his fireplace. Sometimes Earth wasn't so bad, ya know? Other times, too boring. This in itself was something that would make him appreciate the small things--mundane things that normal people didn't even think twice about. In some way, he'd like to think it made him a better person overall. Plus, there were bad guys to catch and send to hell where they belonged.

"I believe so I am human last I checked," the man replied. Av nodded in confirmation, taking the guy at his word despite...his own condition. Perhaps he shouldn't have jumped the gun like that. This guy could possibly help point the way--you know, make sure he was going in the right direction and all. Or he could miss the uptake and consider him a demon and try and kill him. All in good fun. He could drop the horns at any given moment; he just had to confirm whether this guy was like him or an enemy of either side. People were like that, he found. Demon slayers. Human slayers. Sometimes it was just black and white. Up on Earth, maybe, but in Inferis, Av had a hard time passing judgement. "Though circumstances as you can see ill afford the proof for what pomp may diminish such credence, given my presence here... as to yours." The blond American blinked. The fuck did 'pomp' mean? It reminded him of one of those weirdo black-skinned poodles with foofed ball tails. Regardless, he got the gist at least. Steam was rising off the man's body into the cold, his hand reaching up to push up with sunglasses which oddly set Avery at odds with the guy. What kind of person wore sunglasses in a blizzard? He'd understand if it was because the white got too annoying, but other than that it was just plain weird. And the way this guy spoke was roundabout and way too grandiose. The man dabbled him a bit with a spray of his hair, but it wasn't like he cared any; he was already getting torrented with too many snowflakes anyways. "And to you, sir, are you human as well?" Ah, the deciding factor! He'd have to consider this carefully. He could tell the truth, lie, or dodge the question. He already practically gave it away. And he was pretty much defenseless. Choices.

"Yeah, I'm like a human at a masquerade." Middle ground--safe ground. He answered it and dodged it at the same time. A pro at the game, he gave his crooked, teethy smile, and felt the wind whistle through the fangs. "Name's Avery, you? ...Hey, you don't happen to know the way out to the Entropic Chasm, do ya?"

[Dead: Archive please.]