Hellwalkers

Legend of the Hellwalkers

Of all the creatures in Hell, none is as secretive or little known about as a breed of imps with the power to heal. Recognizable by the snake-like patterns in their eyes and rattling tails, these imps stayed apart from the others. They would not bow to Overlords or Demon Royalty.

When Lucifer himself came down to Wrath, the imps screeched and roared from the forest like Hellbeasts as a show of defiance to Hell's hierarchy. Lucifer cursed them for the disrespectful gesture– forever more, they would walk as demons by day and roam as hellbeasts by night. 

Leaving their impish form behind, any harm or good that befell them as hellbeasts, they felt in waking form, too. They were a proud breed of warriors living with the wild hellbeasts, keeping the peace between demons and Hell's wilderness.

But industry, farming, and annual cleanses took their toll on the seven rings. With the increasingly hostile environment, the Hellwalkers dwindled until only four of their kind remained–  A father, his brother, wife, and son...

—O—

CHOP

CHOP

CHOP

The sound of axes cutting through trees echoed throughout the woods. The overworked imps had been told to clear this part of the forest today, but the sun was already setting and they weren't even halfway done. The most superstitious ones had dropped their axes and returned to town. Not because of the darkness. Imps can see at night, after all. But their skins weren't tooth or claw-proof, they claimed.

"Heck, what's the hurry with clearin' out this forest, anyhow? It's not like it's goin' anywhere! I was supposed to be home fuckin' my wife right now!" 

"Ye know how those ditzy-bluebloods are. Our lives mean shit to them." 

Wally Wackford was in the middle of chopping down a thick tree when he heard a faint sound coming from the forest. At first, he thought it was just a little critter running around until it became louder and clearer. 

GRRR

"H-Hey, did ya hear that?" 

"What's that?" 

GRRRR

Gulping, the three remaining imps huddled together with their backs facing each other. Their legs trembled as a pair of piercing golden eyes peered from the darkness, slit pupils fixed on them. Wackford swallowed hard, holding up his ax as the growling and hissing increased. More and more pairs of eyes appeared in the darkness.

The creatures stalked out of their hiding spots. They were as big as a hellhorse, maybe even bigger. Their thick, dark manes bristled menacingly as they snarled at the intruders, exposing their sharp teeth. The reaction was instantaneous.

"HELLBEAST!"

In a panic, the imps tried running back to town, leaving their tools behind. Wackford was about to follow when the pack of hellbeasts surrounded him, blocking every way out. Wackford frantically swung his ax at whichever creature came too close. 

Wrath Imps know by experience that a hellbeast's scaly hide is so thick that it cannot be pierced by regular blades. Special weapons crafted from angelic technology are the only things capable of doing such a feat. If you don't have one, the best thing you can do is aim at the throats, the only vulnerable part of their bodies.