After this strange place's 1st pathetic display of its threats, reminiscent of the lands between yet thankfully lacking in any of the putrid blights or maladies which find themselves prevalent in the wandering wretches of his homeland, 'bereft of mallainea's Thot Rot, nasty damn std that, reduced the only one of Radagon's brood i actually liked into a snarling beast' he snapped out of that line of thought, he was in an unknown place and mighty as he may be this place was strange…
The Dungeon whispered. It pulsed like a dead god's writhing flesh 'brother…', He clenched his fist until his black blood dripped, yellowed claws carving into callused palm, only for the wound to seal shut a moment later. The walls weren't just alive, they were undead. A soul-dead mass of stone and sinew, thrumming with ambient violence, like the body of one of his own kind left to rot under the Order's heel. It reminded him of the corpse of his most beloved brother, only redeemable part of that wicked Golden Order, this place, where ever he was thrived on death, not just consuming the physical form whatever entered but trapping their spiritual form as well . 'Well, no use standing around doing nothing, Stormveil was nice digs while it lasted but really not my style, aught to find a nice nook to rest my head after that shitshow with Morgott'
His bare feet once crashing and crushing the ground and errant stones beneath because of his great density, now moved with a deceptive silence in spite of that fact, moving in such a way that no more sound was produced than a man of modest stature and weight moving in soft souled shoes, after all, when one is hated as omens are one must learn to walk softly,swiftly and in shadow as to not draw the ire of every thing that saw him, not that he minded dishing out an attitude adjustment or two, just that dealing with every dogmatic lunatic of the order became tiering in his early defection from his home country. Heat and malice wafted from the floor as if the Dungeon itself resented his presence. Caelun returned the sentiment, with a brief pointed double hand gesture to the sky before continuing on in spite of it, ignoring it otherwise.
The air reeked of moisture, blood, and rot. He didn't mind. It reminded him of Stormveil's innards. Of things chained and forgotten. And there was no sun. No stars. Just a ceiling far above, alive with twitching roots and veins of glowing stone.
He walked for..Hours? A day, maybe. Time meant little to him. No food, no rest. But his body, immortal and monstrous, sustained itself, barely, he could survive without sustenance or sleep for months, if growing weaker the whole time, but survival and living are two different things. When he finally grew weary of wandering, he found what he sought and climbed the rock with powerful hands to reach it: a jagged alcove high on a cliff wall, overlooking a winding chasm shrouded in fog and flame from occasional dungeon torches. It was quiet there. High. Dry. Unclaimed.
There, he planted his feet, drew back his arm, and punched the rock.
The cave didn't give easily.
The first strike cracked the stone. Causing a thunderous shake in the immediate surroundings
The second gouged it.
By the tenth, a shallow cave had been carved by brute force alone. Nothing refined- just enough room for a crouch, then a seat.
He curled inside, pressing his back against the cool wall, exhaled steam, and allowed himself to sleep.
------
He awoke to barking.
Harsh, monstrous, echoing off the cliffs like war drums.
Caelun stirred, eyes bleary from a good… night's? He couldn't really tell, no sky to go off of- rest frowning, and rolled toward the ledge of his fist carved cave. Below, shapes stirred in the gloom five massive hounds. Three-headed beasts. Cerberi. He was quiet in his search for shelter in his prior waking hours, these things must have found him from his scent. Cealun was not really surprised by their appearance, hed seen more monstrous dogs in Cealid even before the thot rot hollowed out the once lush land ito a corpse of its former self and, for all he knew, similar creatures had existed in the land's between before his time, the only evidence of they remaining their distorted visages carved into stone grave keeping golems, perhaps they were exterminated en mass for their incessant barking or… his stomach rumbled… their succulent flesh.
Among them, a sixth: smaller. One-headed yet no less ferocious. Eyes burning crimson. Its breathing came in short gasps, and it limped, staying distant from the others.
The runt.
Caelun's dreary expression went blank. Then his stomach growled again.
Perfect.
He dropped from the cliff, falling like a boulder- wind whistling around his form as he fell through a layer of fog- onto ice, the ground shattered where he landed, legs bent, kicking up a cloud of dust and rubble.
The monsters jolted back in surprise, being denizens of the lower floors their intelligence was greater than your average pooch, they knew something that size made of flesh should not have created such an impact on the hard dungeon floo-
The first Cerberus didn't even react before he fell upon it, his fist crashing down with the force of a siege weapon.
CRACK.
Its skull split like a melon. The body writhed- then dissolved into ash.
Caelun blinked, fury rising. "Tch… of course. This damned place doesn't even leave a corpse." Caulun hadn't noticed when he dispatched those decrepit old piles of bones earlier, what interest would he have in the remains of such underequipped and frail creatures, though still slightly sturdier than the average animated human corpse of his homeland- he noted in retrospect, negligible though, the difference between a toothpick and a thicker rotten twig really.
He launched into the pack without hesitation.
The second came at him jaws-first. Caelun grabbed its middle head and twisted. Bone snapped. The other two heads bit into his arms, drawing black blood. He grunted, thrashed his body throwing them off, seized the skulls, and smashed them together. It went limp then crumbled to ash as well as the flesh wound began to steam and close.
A third lunged. He sidestepped and drove an elbow into its throat. As it choked, he grabbed it by the spine, thick fingers digging through the tightly corded muscles in it's back effortlessly and hurled it into the cliff wall. blood sprayed and they blood billowed. More ash.
He was done letting this place deny him his bounty.
Before the last Cerberus could flee, he snatched it mid-leap and slammed it to the ground.
Then, without hesitation, he knelt and sank his savage teeth into its side.
The flesh was foul, charred and steaming. But it did not fade. Not yet. Not as long as it lived.
It screamed, three voices howling in agony. Biting futility at the arms that bound it in a bear hug.
Caelun ate faster, devouring the still living creature without remorse.
He crushed ribs. Tore sinew. Drank the heat of its core and the molten hot ichor of its veins.
Only when he had taken enough did he let it die, and even then, its corpse flaked away in seconds.
He exhaled, blood steaming from his lips turned to ash, yet the flesh and blood which filled his gullet and stomach remained, stolen from the dungeon he was still ignorant of.
Only one creature remained.
The runt.
It hadn't moved. Just stood there, trembling. Its single head dipped low. One paw lifted. Whines escaped its throat, low and uncertain.
Caelun approached slowly.
He could see now, its hide bore old bite scars. Scratches. Signs of repeated beatings. It had been the weakest. Bullied. Abused.
He stopped before it, looming and exuding a frightful malice like the demi-god of violence he was.
"…I know that look."
He had seen it every time he looked in a reflective pool of sewage water among his fellow omens when he was just a little curse with sorrow, at his and his brethren's confinement, confusion, at why they was punished, what sin had he committed, simply by being born, and the apprehension after watching a strange tarnished man slaughter his larger abusive kin, yet he and this beast were different, as well as he could recall all that time ago he always had a grim determination about him even facing death he refused to give up what little control over his fate he had, he would die standing looking his fate in the eye, yet...[flashback] 'Hahaha, never seen someone so horny and so dour, HAHAhaha... hmm yeah that look in your eye, you're defiantly one of the chieftain's brats... could've sworn it was only twins in cannon... hey lighten up kid, why so serious son, I'm bustin you outa this joint, we've got to GO! I'm not supposed to be here and you've gotta hate it here, wading around in shit, I can see it in your eyes, il show you the ropes in this world which it might surprise you to hear can be more figuratively shitty than this sewer is literally shitty heheh, though given that you're a demi-god and they still just tossed you down the shitter that might not really surprise you...' he missed his strange friend, wonder if he ever became Elden lord like he said he would, but that might've just been some of his insane ramblings, from telling him that his way of fighting with his hands was 'super sigma' whatever the hell that meant, he honestly didn't wana know, and rambling something about 'clapping a blue four armed doll'? crazy.
he snapped out of his inner musings when his keen eyes caught glimmering light in the remains of one of the pack mates of the hound which he had slain. He reached into the pile of fading dust, retrieved the few remaining magic stones before they crumbled, and held them out awkwardly.
"Here. Better than nothing… I hope." he could sense the energy, the magic, wafting off the stone, and felt something similar in the hound before him.
The hound stared. Then, inch by inch, cautiously, approached. It sniffed the stones. Its tongue darted out.
It began to eat.
Caelun watched, crouching beside it. It finished, then looked up, uncertain.
"…I ain't used to have much use for a pet, found my company in kindred spirits, spiting on the 'grace of gold' as my father would say when he was pretending to be a sanctimonious prick," he muttered. "But I guess we're both strays now."
He reached forward slowly- its ears flattened- but he didn't strike. Just placed a hand atop its head.
It flinched.
Then leaned into the touch, finding the aura of an omen not much different than the aura of a monster
"…Tch. Affectionate for a man eating beast arent'cha?"
Caelun stood, hoisting the heavy hound into one arm like a sack of meat. "Let's find some real food next time."
"BORK!" the hound woofed in its gravely base, a belch sounding out marking a gout of flame which shoot off to nowhere in particular.
"..." Caelun looked on, okay maybe he was a little bit surprised this time
He returned to his cave on the cliff,
Not alone.
AN: Names and design suggestions for the Hellhound? I've got something in mind already but i could be persuaded by a better suggestion