Muspellheim had sent an emissary. A Fire Giant, a hulking construct of living magma and obsidian armor, stomped toward the gates of the Underworld. Ashwrought Step. The heat radiating from his body turned the rocks to glass. He raised a massive sword, dripping with liquid fire. Flameforging.
"I will burn this gate and claim the dead!" the giant roared.
From the shadows of the Asphodel Fields, a growl answered. It was a sound deeper than an earthquake.
Cerberus rose. The three-headed hound of Hades was the size of a palace. His fur was made of snakes; his drool was poison.
The Guardian of the Dark
The Giant swung his sword. Muspellfire. A wave of intense heat washed over the hound.
Cerberus didn't flinch. He was born in the fires of Tartarus; this was merely a warm breeze.
The middle head snapped forward. Stygian Howl.
The sound was not just loud; it was the frequency of despair. The obsidian armor of the giant cracked under the sonic pressure.
The Giant staggered, roaring in confusion. Cerberus leaped. Gatekeeper's Grasp.
All three heads clamped onto the Giant—one on the sword arm, one on the leg, one on the throat. They didn't just bite through the magma; they bit the spirit. The fangs of Cerberus severed the Giant’s connection to the primal fire. The bright orange glow of the giant’s skin faded to dull, cooling grey.
The Fire Giant fell, now just a statue of cold rock. Cerberus released his grip, shook the ash from his fur, and lay back down across the threshold. The gate remained closed.