Jia was met with a growl at her offer, the guard watching her warily, the greaves clanking as the dark-skinned man shifted his position watching her warily, while another stepped ahead to close the shackles on her wrists, squeezing them a moment as the metal hissed momentarily, an arcane sigil on them showing as the metal seemed to fuse together to hold her wrists secure. The guard grasped on the chain between the shackles, to pull her along after him to the hallway.<br/><br/>Piro found the guard glaring at him in an annoyed fashion, looking displeased he was in such a shape despite the imprisonment, but no further words were spoken. As the guard watched after him, another stepped inside to move forward and lock the man's wrists before him, closing the shackles a sigil burning red-hot on the metal for a moment as the bindings locked on him, the metal fused to prevent any attempts to escape at least that easily. The guard grunted, before moving to grasp onto those shackles and drag him along behind him to the hallway.<br/><br/>Once those two had been pulled in together, the other two were approached in turn, with Naori's gesture and words being met with a loud snort, and the guard spitting aside to the stone tiles of her cell before advancing, a guttural growl in his throat seeming all he was about to say in reply. Eyeing her figure, he shrugged while moving to close the shackles on her wrists. As they pressed together there was a burning red sigil on them, the metal fusing slightly to lock her wrists in place, the short chain between the shackles keeping her from moving her hands too much, and making noise when she did. They had some measure of rust in them, looking like they'd seen better days though.<br/><br/>Baudhiel received a wary look from the guard, who seemed to watch her suspiciously while waving the other one with the shackles to step in and lock her into them. The guard hurried over to close the shackles quickly onto her wrists, and secure her arms in doing so. The shackles had barely been pushed together when a red shine shone on them, the shackles seeming to lock in place by melting partially though they only heated where the metal touched metal at the lock, rather than burning on the skin. The sigil that shone with the red light faded shortly after, the guard grunting and nodding towards the hallway.<br/><br/>The four of them were brought to stand in line in the order they'd been dragged out of their cells, the shackles for ankles laying on the floor nearby, but the first of the guards seemed to snarl something in another language to his companions who gruffly nod, before the first man moved back to the doorway at the end of the hallway. They were being marched to it while the man pressed a signet ring on his hand against the lock, causing a red sigil to glow on it and the door to open, the noise level rising immediately as it did.<br/><br/>"No, no please!" "You can't, I told you everything!" The panicked shouts and screams of pain and agony echoed in the wider hallway beyond. Several doors on their left in the hallway had a sign on them that read the same, other than the last letter upon them, carved in infernal script. 'Cellblock 6' for the one they had left behind, the others rising up towards 12, the ones behind numbering down. On their right they were shown a series of rooms with chains, chairs with shackles on them, metal crossed and wheels, most of them empty, the door left open, but as they marched along past the closest one that had screaming coming from it they passed one of the other prisoners.<br/><br/>Ghostly white young man who's skin was being flayed layer by layer by a black-skinned guard with horns on his head and a sadistic grin on his face, the man's agony and screams were incredible but the saltwater the fiend splattered on him seemed to be maddening. There was a ritual circle on the ground beneath the seat he was strapped into, not glowing but certainly holding a number of fiendish names and words for containment within it. Above the man, a strange little device with turning gears and a bowl into which coppery smoke seemed to be rising into from the man's screaming form, a nearby table showing a thin pipe over it dripping with coppery liquid into the bottle itself, its mouth sealed around the pipe with some kind of a thick rag. Several of those bottles lay nearby, empty, but a few rested on the table with names besides a tallymark system. Most of those names had 1 or 2 lines on them, but a few as much as seven.<br/><br/>As they passed the man and along the hallway they found another figure, a woman of venerable age and at one point respectable looks, but the white as a banshee look didn't quite work for her, and the pained screams of agony were there, but then again it was understandable as it seemed the fiend draining her of whatever they were acquiring this way was busy snapping her fingers bones one at a time, seeming to take pleasure in doing it with his bare hands.<br/><br/>Their march lead them past the 12th door, and at the end of that hallway a larger gate lay awaiting, with two guards watching over it. The guards stopped momentarily, as the group's leader moved in to press his ring against the gates, while the two guards nearby did the same to the sigils on the walls. The doors creaked, and as the guard before the doors backed away, they opened inwards to reveal a courtyard with stone steps at its edges, the middle ground that of burnt ashes for soil. There were two poles there, one at each end of the area, and a large gate at the other side that was presently open showing the ashen plains beyond, but the group of four dark-skinned fiends near it discouraged ideas of trying to run. At the right hand of the area rested a taller structure, jutting up like a tower from the landscape, the other side showing two-floored building with a smaller door showing near it, with no guards near that one. The infernal text for 'barracks,' read on that side, the tower holding 'master' to it, the gates outside unmarked but the door behind them with the text 'pens' scribbled in the fiendish script upon it.<br/><br/>As the four of them were escorted to stand on the ashen sand in a row, the door to the tower section opened to reveal a slender, feminine figure walking towards them. Blackened wings of feathers, chains hanging from her outfit, black silk wrapped around her form other than the leather belt on which several sharp instruments of pain rested on and chains hung freely from, the creature before them radiated power in an oppressing manner, an Erinyes of quite some power.<br/><br/><strong>"You are fortunate you have fallen into my domain. My close neighbors would not be so gentle 'hosts'."</strong>She smirked, looking upon the group of them appraisingly, a look of amusement evident as she walked before them, appraising eye moving along their figure and rising to their face, gazing to their eyes judging them like pieces of flesh on a market as she went by them one way, and then back the other. Not once did she try and touch, nor utter a word, in the duration of those slow, calm steps as she seemed to evaluate them.<br/><br/><strong>"You are still alive but yet you are here in Hell, and appear chained to it just as securely as we are. Yet you are not fiends yourselves."</strong>She smirked at this, tilting her head.<strong>"Or even petitioners. There are many damned souls that would give anything to become a petitioner at my mercies, for I make use of such poor scrubs, as well as the filthy progeny of the fiends that procreate with the animals like your races. I am saying this so you understand how <em>kind</em> I am and realize that if you had landed on the backyard of one of my neighbors, no doubt you'd have had your throats slit and your damned soul milked for all of its illiaster already! You would be torture-dolls for all eternity, drained for every last drop each day until you are broken husks, then thrown away to recover. Amazing how resilient a soul is, even shredded to the brink of discorporation it can recover, given time... but fail me and I will show you a state beyond death and dissolution, I will break you till your souls are such shreds you will never be whole again!"</strong>Her voice rose in magnitude as the wings buffed ashes into the air as she spread them and raised her hand before them, a scroll upon it showing the image of a grinning imp with sharp canines and a poisonous stinger held just beneath its chin, the tail curved around to pose with such promise of violence the picture seemed to offer besides the 'fiendish grin'.<br/><br/><strong>"Your lives have been spared so far, because as you are not fiends, you are not bound by our <em>Covenants</em>. You are not <em>Warded</em> against, because to be mortal in Hell is practically unheard of. Which is why, my dears, a foolish bastard like this one would not have the power, connections or care to protect himself against mortals. However! He dares to mock me, openly defiant because he hides behind the wards set up by the previous tenant of the Soul Mill he controls."</strong>She smirked coldly, licking her lips briefly.<strong>"I am going to cut you a deal. You swear an oath to me, which I will enforce by magic, that you will kill the bastard and bring me his head. In doing so, you will help my business and be worth keeping around. You will be escorted near the wards, and watched after by my guards. Attempts at deceit will be met with swift punishment, as will failure."</strong><br/><br/>Gazing upon the group of them, she let out a cold chuckle.<strong>"Not like you have many options. You can accept the deal and live a little longer by being useful, earning some benefits by it, or you can refuse and go back to your cells. I can just stop feeding you if I grow bored, or forget, and you will join the others as damned souls soon enough. Unless you think you really can take me on without any of year gear at hand."</strong>She looked upon the group of them mockingly.