Chapter VII - Homecoming

Author's Comment

Ah, DNSS, my favourite story arc to date.



I can't remember if I mentioned this, but it answers some questions... and raises a few hundred more. Oh well.



Music: Meatloaf/Travis/Sarah McLachlan/Colin Hay

Random things: Er. Well. There's a line missing at the end which was taken out to keep the dramatic...-ness.



Chapter VII – Homecoming (Devil’s New Suit Saga – Part I)



“Take my love, take my land,

Take me where I cannot stand,

I don’t care, I’m still free,

You can’t take the sky from me.”

~ Sonny Rhodes (lyrics Joss Whedon), ‘Ballard of Serenity’



The world was spinning again. Shandor thought it had an annoying habit of doing that. He was going to have words. It took him a moment to realise that he wasn’t in a world so much as a portal. He sighed. He wouldn’t be able to shout at portals – they didn’t listen to him.

The portal dumped him roughly on a smooth, beige stone. He wondered what horribly annoying dimension he had been thrown out on this time. His eyes clamped shut.

‘Shandor?’ a female voice called.

Shandor opened his eyes and looked towards it. Kalypse, soaked from head to toe, stood there shivering, even though the air was scorching. The sky was a suspiciously dark red that Shandor wasn’t fond off.

Two people began screaming. One in a medium tone, the other howling like a banshee who has taken up opera. Shandor realised a portal had just dumped them out. Mihndrid and Silvan. Silvan, the opera-loving banshee, stopped a few seconds after Mihndrid did.

‘I’m not tasty!’ screeched a small, football-like object as it bounced out of the and onto the stone.

‘Um… Lesharn?’ Shandor said to the football.

Lesharn uncurled and looked around, ‘Mother blessed! You aren’t sea-serpents!’

‘Not last I checked.’ Shandor commented.

Rue decided to be the last to join the party, and she did it by crashing on top of Mihndrid and Silvan, eyelids so tightly shut a crowbar wouldn’t know where to begin.

‘Is anyone else going to do that?’ Kalypse asked.

Shandor waited a few seconds before answering, ‘I think that’s it. What happened to you?’

‘I was drowning.’ She replied quite calmly.

‘Ah.’ Shandor nodded.

‘Ceiling was falling on us.’ Mihndrid stated matter-of-factly.

‘I was about to be eaten by a sea-faring type of ravioli.’ Lesharn nodded.

‘Arrow. Right between the eyes.’ Rue said, squinting at the group.

‘And falling to my death. I say that Lesharn’s story was the best.’

‘Where are we?’

Shandor hadn’t thought about that. He looked at the dark sky again and felt something niggling at the back of his mind, then he looked at the ground and looked beyond the giant pebble they were collapsed over. A thick, murky liquid slapped about carelessly.

Shandor knelt down and dipped two fingers in it, it rubbed the substance – it appeared black, but also a deep red from certain angles.

‘Damnation.’ Came his report.

‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Kalypse asked, looking at the liquid all around her.

‘With Shandor it’s always bad.’ Mihndrid commented dryly.

‘Home sweet hell.’ Shandor sighed.

‘Excuse me?’ Silvan squeaked.

‘Welcome, my friends, to Tarkna. One of the darkest hells known to man. And more specifically, the Oil Pits of Uotarin.’ Shandor reported.

‘T-tarkna?’ Silvan and Lesharn squeaked together.

‘Didn’t you-‘

‘Get banished here, why yes, thanks for asking.’ Shandor replied sharply.

‘Okay, Shandor, remain calm.’ Kalypse advised.

‘Calm? Me? Perfectly. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s always nice to be thrown into a pit of abysmal evil and darkness with very little hope of escape in your now-infinite life-span filled with torture and a pain so searing that you try and beat it out of your head with a rock until your limbs are chained to the ceiling preventing you from doing anything but screaming as your mind succumbs to the unyielding insanity.’ Shandor rambled. ‘As I mentioned before, I am perfectly calm.’

‘Clearly.’ Mihndrid muttered under her breath. She turned to the others and asked, ‘You’ve known him longer than me – is he always this cheerful?’

‘Yeah, in fact, this is probably his most chipper.’

‘I joined the wrong freak show.’

Kalypse, trying to distract Shandor came up with the one topic that was probably a bad idea, ‘So… why are these called the Oil Pits of Uotarin?’

‘Oh, fun story.’ Shandor grimaced, ‘A few hundred millennia ago, Tarkna was ruled by twelve dynasties. One of these, led by Duke Uotarin, decided that he didn’t like having a piddly empire, so he tried to take over another one. Unfortunately, in a tactically insane manoeuvre, he attacked part of the Alliance, which consisted of seven of the dynasties. They promptly shoved him back into his dynasty and continued crushing. His armies were so thoroughly decimated that their blood and bones formed this oily substance. As for the Duke? He was confined in a box and sent the depths of the largest oil field. As punishment.’

‘Ew, this is like… blood?’ Silvan said.

‘Yes.’

‘Fun topic.’ Rue mumbled.

‘Okay, I’m not going to let this dimension get to me again. We can get out of here the same way I did.’

‘You mean, when we opened a portal to this place?’ Rue asked.

‘You… Oh. Well, I suppose that makes a little more sense. Okay, I’ve got nothing.’

‘Gee, good idea Rue, make Major Mopey over here even more depressed and less likely to do anything other than die.’ Mihndrid complained.

‘And so it begins…’ Shandor groaned.

‘Stop it!’ Kalypse interrupted, ‘We’ve got to stick together. Shandor, you’re the expert here, where should we go?’

‘Well,’ Shandor thought for a moment, ‘if there is a chance that the place I rode the portal from get us out of here, then we need to get to Echit. It’s the main city on this plane. Wait, before you start, I’ll clarify: there are three planes of Tarkna. This one is the middle one, above and below are both completely controlled by the Death-Bringers, who Silvan knows – not in that way – this level of Tarkna is now nearly completely controlled by the Deathies, most of the dynasties have crumbled except for the one ruling Echit. Echit is surrounded by a few hundred miles of barren wastelands called the Badlands.

‘Echit, all things considered, is nice ‘n’ rosy on a first glance. If you stick to the upper end of the city, it looks like a nice place. Hell, the sky is even blue – and I mean in the entire city. If still viable, we will be hitching a ride from the Deathies embassy in Echit. It isn’t going to be easy. This is not a nice place to live in, just try not to crack.’ Shandor added the last comment from personal experience, and wished twice as much that he was being chased by ravioli monsters who were going to eat him. It would be more fun.

‘Now,’ he continued, ‘in order to get out of the Oil Pits, we are going to have to find one of the trade routes. Shouldn’t be that hard to find, just keep your eyes on the sky for a giant bridge.’

‘Okay,’ Rue nodded, getting to her feet and dusting herself off, ‘but one question: how did we end up here?’



‘Done?’ Rilnae asked.

‘It is done.’

‘Your friends,’

‘Have been helped.’

‘The six most,’

‘In danger have,’

‘Been saved.’

‘Wait. What? You were meant to help them all!’

‘You agreed,’

‘To the terms,’

‘Of our new contract.’

‘I didn’t know what the terms were.’

‘It is done.’

‘What is done,’

‘Shall not be changed.’

‘I hate you people.’ Rilnae grumbled.



‘So… You are expecting us to walk through fields of blood?’ Kalypse asked incredulously.

‘Pretty much, yeah.’ Shandor said, ‘It’s either that or starve to death.’

‘Well, when you put it that way: ew.’ Mihndrid said.

‘This liquid could, of course, be nourishing…’ Shandor commented.

‘Double ew!’ Silvan cringed, ‘Lets just get moving.’

‘Glad you agree.’ Shandor finished, dropping down into the liquid, it went up to his knees.

‘Being short sucks.’ Mihndrid reported as the liquid lapped at her waist.

‘And people use you like a football.’ Lesharn muttered ruefully.



For two hours the group trudged through the blood-oil fields.

‘Shandor, what is this oil used for?’

‘Y’know, I never asked. I’m not sure they even use it. The only reason trade routes come through here is to get to the other kingdoms. Well, kingdom, singular, the Death-Bringers.’

‘Speaking of, are there a lot of them?’ Silvan asked.

‘They are the dominant force here in Tarkna, but Echit is still a free city. The ruling dynasty isn’t *that* bad.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’ Mihndrid mumbled.

‘I’m hungry.’ Lesharn commented.

‘That’s odd. The metaphysical laws that govern Tarkna mean people don’t get hungry.’ Shandor commented. Then he remembered Lesharn was a Halfling.

‘Wait a minute, you said we’d starve.’

‘Whoops.’ Shandor smirked.

Mihndrid rolled her eyes.

Rue just wondered about the death and destruction that did this. ‘So, this dimension’s time frame goes faster than Earth’s, too?’ she began.

‘Yes, but from what we’ve seen so far, I think it goes faster.’

Rue, lacking another subtle question, asked, ‘Were you here when this happened?’

Shandor fell deadly silent.

The group moved in silence.

‘I knew some people who were there.’ He said at last. ‘At that time, Death-Bringers were still allies, they sent a small force to help. One of the people I knew last time I was here ran into the leader of the Deathies. Not a nice person.’



Ka’eil looked at the battle. This was quite fun, he decided. The rebel’s army was fighting valiantly against an over whelming force. Duke Something-or-other was already in retreat.



Rilnae blinked into existence hovering a few feet above the surface of the liquid, ‘There you guys are!’

‘Rilnae!’

‘Good to see you!’ Kalypse beamed.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Shandor asked.

‘Long story. I shouldn’t even be here now. The others are okay. And sorry you ended up here, “help” my ass. I’ll try and keep in contact with you – got to go.’ She blurted out, turning around and looking over her shoulder suspiciously. And then she was gone.

‘That was…’

‘Odd.’

‘Most definitely.’

‘Um… guys?’ Rue said.

The group turned to see her sinking quickly into the liquid. It was up to her neck. They had entered a deeper area, but it didn’t explain that. The halfing and gnome were getting free piggy-backs. They were promptly dumped to wade for themselves.

Kalypse reached out to grab Rue’s hand when a tendril shot out from behind, wrapped around her necked and dragged her entirely under the surface.

‘Grathnolos.’ Shandor groaned.

Mihndrid tried frantically to find Kalypse. Silvan aided by splashing about like a lunatic. Lesharn was trying to keep Rue’s head above the surface.

Shandor looked around for any available weapons – none.

Kalypse struggled against the tendril. She was quite fed up with being dragged under liquids. Her hand grabbed hold of something and in her struggle to climb back up, brought the object with her.

Shandor, who’s foot had just been grabbed, fell backwards into the oil. His eyes shut to avoid the substance. He’d heard rumours about it making you blind. Something wrapped around his waist and arms and was pulling in three different directions. He was forced to open his eyes to try and battle the creature.

Surprisingly, his eyes didn’t burn out of their sockets or anything of the like, from beneath the surface, it looked just like water. Stung a bit, but that didn’t matter.

The creature causing so much trouble looked quite like a jet-black octopus that was hiding in a canyon-esque area a dozen metres away.

Kalypse already had her eyes open and was trying to stop the creature from choking her.

Rue was struggling against two tendrils which had bound her legs together.

Shandor tried, uselessly, to remember a suitable spell. He swam towards Kalypse as best he could and grabbed onto the tendril holding her. He tried to squeeze, twist and snap it in two. The creature didn’t like that particular action, releasing Kalypse to use a forth tendril against Shandor.

Kalypse hit the surface gasping for air. She fell back down into the liquid before popping back up and regaining balance.

Mihndrid went to help Rue as Silvan went under looking for Shandor. Silvan managed to drag Shandor’s arm above the surface. Shandor was rather annoyed seeming as this didn’t really help him in the slightest.



‘That was…’

‘As amusing as a lobotomy.’ Shandor muttered, rubbing his sore wrists.

‘But the fight…’

‘That was pretty spectacular.’ Rue commented.

‘Kalypse, I knew you choked people with cherries, but a full on blitzen with a rock – impressive.’ Shandor grinned.

Kalypse blushed.

‘And even the florist here kicked some.’ Mihndrid said, poking Silvan.

‘I thought he was going to tear it’s tendril off.’

‘I could’a!’ Silvan insisted, still shaking slightly.

‘A fight for the ages.’ Rue stated.

‘This would make a grand song.’ Lesharn added.

‘Speaking of, you really have to stop hitting things with your lute. At least it didn’t break this time.’

Lesharn took his turn to blush.

Shandor decided to do a little imitation of Silvan, holding his arm up as if he had a giant rock in his hand, yelling, ‘Get thee hence, minion of hell!’

‘Hey! I didn’t say get thee hence.’

‘You should’a, would’ve been funnier.’

‘I don’t know; Silvan trying to hurl that rock was pretty funny.’

‘After he-‘

‘Tumbled over the first time.’ Shandor and Rue said together.

‘I swore I heard a rusty door sound effect.’

‘Ha ha! Me too!’ Mihndrid smiled.

‘Ah, I pity anyone who missed that one.’ Rue smirked.

The Narrator smirked too. Well, this *is* hell.

The discussion of the fight continued for a long time, Lesharn being thrown high into the air (much like a football, *again*, he insisted). Silvan and Kalypse doing kamikaze runs against the octopus-creature. Shandor just having a ‘What the hell is going on?’ look as Lesharn beat a puddle of oil with his lute bravely.



After a few hours, they saw it. Up in the sky, stretching seemingly forever.

‘A trade route.’ Shandor said matter-of-factly. ‘Or more precisely, two trade routes.’

It was composed of hundreds of pairs of giant stone pillars, and two small rock paths (no wider than a man) joining them together, magically coloured gold. What was truly remarkable was the glowing energy field that encompassed the space between the rows. Fortunately, the group had arrived at a junction. The path they were looking at intersected another one at a right angle.

Rather giddily, the group approached intersection. ‘This looks really cool.’ Rue stated.

‘Meh.’ Shandor replied. Well, it was pretty cool.

The intersection consisted of a multitude of pillars and a small energy platform that served as an elevator. The group reached it and looked about. There was a small office beside the base of one of the pillars.

Shandor, Rue and Kalypse went over to it. There was a small man behind an oval window. He wasn’t looking at the three and merely said, ‘How may I help you?’

‘Six to Echit.’ Shandor replied in the same formal tone.

‘Okay.’ The man tapped a few buttons beside him and six tickets appeared on the window sill – on the group’s side. ‘Twelve drantars.’

‘Ah. Slight problem there.’ Shandor said.

The man sighed and said, ‘Look, we have the ‘routes, if you want to use them, you pay a fare. If you don’t have the fare, you don’t use the ‘routes. Simple enough?’ The man then looked up and saw them. He blinked several times before squeaking, ‘But one exception won’t make any-er- difference. Here-here you go. En-enjoy your flight, sir, madams.’

Shandor shrugged, picked up the tickets and moved away.

‘What was that?’ Rue asked.

‘Luck, I guess.’ Shandor replied.

Shandor gave a ticket to each of them.

‘Ow!’ Lesharn yipped.

‘Oh, probably should’a warned you.’ Shandor said, as his ticket pricked into him and drew a drop of blood, ‘The people of Tarkna love the oul’ blood.’

Lesharn looked at his ticket, it no longer said ‘Ticket for one’, but ‘Lesharn Moonweed.’ It also gave details of how old he was and a fine portrait of him appeared next to the information.

‘Impressive.’ Rue commented.

Shandor, clearly unimpressed, moved away – towards the energy platform.

‘Aw, come on Shandor, what’s the matter? Lying ‘bout your age? Not a natural fair-head?’ Rue grinned.

Shandor sighed and showed them the ticket, thumb lying over his name, portrait and birthplace.

‘Whoa. You are… ten thousand years old?’

The rest of the group turned to look at Shandor.

He sighed, ‘I’m only a hundred, Earth years, but I’ve been in Tarkna for a while.’

‘Oh. Sorry?’ Rue offered.

Shandor shrugged, turned and reached the platform. There was a small floating box next to the platform. He put his ticket into it. The box whirred for a second before popping the ticket out from the other side. He stepped onto the platform.

The rest of the group did the same thing. When they were all aboard the platform automatically took off into the air with a rather disconcerting feeling. It was disconcerting to the group because it felt suspiciously like they were standing on clouds. The platform slowly came to a halt at the top. The four paths stretched on endlessly. Mopey-looking people pottered about. Shandor looked about and recognised the path to Echit. It was either that or he noticed the big sign saying ‘To Echit’ beside one of the paths.

‘Do we have to walk that?’ Lesharn asked.

‘Not quite.’ Shandor smirked, walking onto the glowing path. He then sat down on thin air.

Rue walked up to him, looked at him dubiously, and said, ‘How’d you do that?’

Shandor indicated a spot about two foot away from him, ‘Have a seat.’

Rue cocked an eyebrow, went over to the indicated area, and sat down. She briefly wondered what a moron she would look trying to sit down in thin air, then she made contact with a very soft and comfortable chair. This is hell?

The group, with similar feelings, took their seats.

Then they started moving. Quickly. Very quickly. Shandor took this quite calmly. The others looked around frantically. They didn’t feel as if they were moving, but the landscape was zipping past them.

About an hour later, a small imp floated by selling drinks and snacks.

The whole experience was rather mind-boggling, but the Narrator thought it was par for the course at this point.

Two more hours later, Echit came into view. The chairs stopped rather abruptly. The group clambered off and descended into the city. They had arrived in a small section between two gates. One led to Echit, the other led to the Badlands. Shandor frowned, something seemed a little different. Shrugging, he entered through the person-gate. He stopped dead. The sky wasn’t nice and rosy and blue. It was such a dark red it was nearly black.

‘Hey, what happened to what you said?’ Mihndrid asked.

Shandor motioned for her to hush as he looked at the faces of the people moving about – they were depressed. Okay, they were in hell, but Echit wasn’t that bad a place. These people seem to think that it was awful. Shandor moved deeper into the city, the main marketplace for the merchants was just a little bit further down. Everyone was too wrapped up in being overwhelmingly depressed to noticing the six.

Shandor went down the few marble steps into the marketplace. It used to be a splendour, but now it was just… barren. Spirit-wise. The shops were still there, selling dull, plain items from suitably dull, plain merchants to dull, plain customers. The shops themselves were dull and plain.

‘Okay. Something funky is going on.’ Shandor assessed.

‘Aye! And I’ll tell you what it is!’ A booming voice bellowed. The group turned to look.

A creature had moved to where they were. He was twice as tall as the tallest of the group, and obscenely over-muscled. He had a pale tusk poking out from the back of his jaw and curving to a tip just in front of his chin on either side. His skin was a muddy colour and he looked mighty annoyed.

‘Hi Grugkk. Fancy… er… meeting you… again.’ Shandor said, slightly nervous.

‘Well! Well! Well! If it ain’t my bestest buddy, Shindy!’ he boomed. The rest of the group backed away slightly. ‘Yeppers, bestest buddy I’ve ever had. This bestest buddy of mine would never, say, set me up the Khyber with no canoe! He wouldn’t leave me to have the oul’ bottles and stoppers get me. He wouldn’t be a snivelling pile of drax’s spit, would he?’

‘Er… Grugkk… you should… er… know…’

‘Oh aye, you barking trenial! Oh aye, you’ll have a nice rosy jellied eel for me, won’t’cha? It’ll earn me a nice bit o’ bob, you say. Set’s me up a deal with our good oul’ Deathies. Does he. An’ then what’cha do you pile of dissected rat intestines!’

‘There were… circumstances… and um… situations… and things…’ Shandor said, backing away.

‘You set me up for a right dive! All’s swans and castles for you, but for me? FOR ME!? You left me to the right oul’ Henry Neville. The horned one ‘imself!’

‘It-he doesn’t exist…’

‘Aye, really?! Is that right!? Didn’t stop them from takin’ away my job. MY LIFE! You ruined my life, you Droxlar's arse!’

Mihndrid was about to comment that he was in hell, but stopped herself.

‘And now you come back! COME BACK TO MY CITY!? ‘FANCY MEETING YOU’, HA! As we, YOU AND I, were bestest bloody buddies.’ Grukk then delivered a ground-shattering roar as he brought his enormous fist and struck Shandor. The force of the strike caused Shandor’s head to pop off and bounce down the street. His body stood there rather pointlessly for a second before flopping to the ground. His head continued its lifeless bounce down the street.

The group went wide-eyed.