Walking out of the building, I was still confused; But a transfer completed none the less. Now I was only left wondering where this path away from Frank would lead me.

Amanojaku

That sounded way too Asian for me. Where the hell was he coming from any way? Any demon I had seen down here so far were all large, European looking archtypes. Long horns, red skin and tiny wings. I think the only Asian I saw was driving a taxi from Styx to the outer walls. I don’t even think he was Asian now, maybe just the skin around his face was really rotten. 

Either way, I was prepared to face the decisions I made. I just needed to get into a new environment.

[Upon leaving the main path leading away from the Ordo Classifcarium, I spotted the woman from the lake. She was wandering aimlessly around, her arms looking to make contact with something. It was almost as if she was blind, praying to not run into a pole or someone else. 

Too embarrassed ]

At the moan split of the mourning star grazing across the horizon of our wretched skies. Deep from the bowels of the Lions Mouth; Constructed along the cliff side realm of our damned ring, same shooting fourth the bastard sun, rejected across a span of aeons of chaotic beginnings. Launched from the Blasphemous arrow of the pearch god-daemon Pazuzu, its flexed arms for zenith projectory arched back its burnt as Icarus wings. 

The shrieking cry of the falling sun shook me awake from a very odd dream. 

It took me back to when I was still, you know, alive. 

There I was. I’m just sitting there in a chair. It seems like a nice chair, I musta been doing pretty well at whatever I was doing. But there is this man, this big, old, burnt out man. His hair long abandoned ship from the mount of his skull, the flowing stab of hair along the sides presented the man as a late night grave keeper. 

I don’t really remember much but he just keep raising his arm and his voice, but he was laying down; in now way causing any indication of a threat to me or himself. 

It was just a really strange dream. I heard some people at the tavern discussing how believed that when you dream in hell, its really not a dream at all. It’s a look at your memories.

In dreams, it’s what you create it; some times good or bad. Memories. Memories only bring up pain and regrets. Poor ideas and idiotic execution. Failure and defeat. 

Stamped and signed in a scrawled, shaking hand writing was written Half before the 3rd Sun Descends. I was getting close to running late to my new reporting. I had better get on my way. 

Appearing out in the street in front of me a marching patrol of lesser spawns waddles down the street. Their deep purple skin dried out and caked along their small builds. The largest of them held a sword a few inches too big for him. He waddled this and there trying to hold the weapon with pride. 

“Excuse me?”

“COMPANY! HALT!” 

The tiny regiment of creeping spawns stopped short, the last barley missing colliding with the 2nd to last in line. 

Dropping the sword and hoping up along the wall next to me and launching at me, the leader deamon spawn had pinned me to the ground. Pushing its wretched smelling face into mine, it breathed in and out; awashing me in rancid stenches and aurmoas. I stunk of the sulfur and mercury, the blaze fringed the edges of my days garments.

“What do you you seek to find, Humaaan.” The demon hacked out the words in a tounge I could understand. Watching its small yet developing frame linger above me, taking a sense of pride in its ability to show up too the Matured Level of spawns that were advising them among the wall tops. 

I grabbed out the paper from my inner clock and pointed to the written creed. The demons quadruples eyes quickly scanned in a crisscrossing patter soaking up every letter, punctuation, sentence structure and within a matter of seconds understood the largely scrolled out sheet. 

Launching itself back, while still having hold of my cloak; the beast stood up and held me while flying upwards towards the walls. The Matured Spawns standing uppon the wall didn’t differ much in appearance from the Lesser spawns down along the road, accept for the fact these troops were allowed to be adorned with armor. The larger of the two Matured Spawns made the Less dwarfed, four times over. 

On the helm of the brute, out protruded to elephant almost guised trunks. The marble looking horns were smithed along into the working of the steel helmet. The edges worked with black holding steel, the larger, more protected material consisted of a polished red rock mined from the lower pits of the gnashing teeth, just past the cryptic Shrine of Mad Laughter.

Tthe secondary demon upon the wall had opted to not carry a helmet. and In stead it held a large shield. The center held a trifecta of skulls. Smashed and shatter the fronts were, but attached and intact none the less. 

“Why you bring us simple human, you too lazy to handle this worm yourself? To think you can carry around that sword with you. HA! I laugh at you.” Barked out the larger of the two.

Enraged the Less Spawned attacked with no remorse and was instantly split in half but the larger Demon. Swiftly it unsheathed a sword larger then what the Lesser and left on the ground down on the streets. Much good a too large sword did for him. 

Within the frenzy, I managed to slip away from them and make my way back to the street. I think I knew my way over to what was written on the scroll.

Mourners Path, Despondent Woods, Stygian Docks. 

Stygian? 

You mean like the Styx? Why do I need to go across the Styx?

After leaving the party in a rush, I tried to make it back to my site of the land. I was just so shaken up from all the nights fun activities. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to take up that invite. What was I thinking? Demons and humans don’t mix. They are the top dogs and we are the scum off their feet. 

I mean, watching lords of legions of hell is fun and all. Having the very center of my mind torn apart and then stitched worked back together by the shaking hands of Dr. Mengele, or at least that’s what it had made my head feel like the next day. I’ve never even had hangovers back before that were this bad. 

All of this just wanted me to distance myself between Frank and I. Don’t get me wrong, he is a fantastic executioner and his skills with his blade are phenomenon. But, it all just felt we were taking this whole buddy-buddy thing a little too fast.

The next morning, after making my way through the stretching line of boredom for our daily caffeine flavored dirt drinks, I made my way out of the dining swamp and headed to the long connecting path way. 

This large bridge, formed the the bones of fallen angels; gathered since before the downfall of Lucifer and his original devout followers. Massive, the bones made a formidable bridge. One would swear they were equivalent to the titian’s of ancient Greece.

It connected the lower parts, where the souls were kept, to the higher reaches. Up top of the cascading cliff sides stood a building of great intimidation. Formed just as Franks home, the reaching stalagmite building protruded off into crooked and jagged angles.  

In front of me loomed the Ordo Classifarium. This ancient building was forged in the first Aeon of hell’s reign. I read it on a little plaque a about a quarter of a mile away from the building. 

For a lack of better term, this building is the main offices. Satan sits at the tallest tower, with his nice throne. The walls bleed and ooze out puss, the minions beckon to his every call. It must be real nice for him there. 

The walk way leading towards the main gateway was paralleled by iron rods. Some were adorned with a rotting carcass. I figured these were just the last remains of a rebellion that happened 3 deca-mellenium ago. I had heard a short mention of that the other night at Frank’s house. 

Somewhat uneasy at the surrounding spits, I tread carefully. Being as a new soul, I wasn’t even sure if we had the proper clearance to come this way. Was there a hot line I was supposed to call?

“Hey!” 

I almost jumped right out of my skin. What the hell just said that? I thought things things were dead and I haven’t  heard the fluttering of wings overhead. Nor had I spotted a damned soul anywhere within the last twenty minutes; but I don’t think the thick fog overlay hurt my vision or anything, either.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Yeah you, over here. Help me!”

Turning around in a three sixty, there seemed as if one of the bodies impaled on a spike was motioning too me. What I actually saw as I came within clear visibility was some quite comically sad. Starting from the lower left back and having the end splitting out the right side of its lower neck, the twisted body’s head was forced back at a incapacitated angle. As if its neck was snapped, and the head was left to swing and sway in anyway it pleased. 

For reasons of self loathing, I once again felt the need to help. I was willing to hear his case and see what I could do. 

“What can I  help you with? I really don’t have a lot of time, so could you make it quick?”

A high pitched shriek came from the withering bag of bones, I could only think of it as a depressive sigh or laugh. 

“Look at me man, I’m a mess. You gotta do something.”

Looking back and forth, still enshrouded in the fogbreath, I didn’t spot anything to cause suspicion of being caught. 

“Nah man, I don’t think I can be of any help to you. Because coming to think of it, at orientation they said something about No breaking the oath of Hell’s Honor, and boy do I care about protecting that seal I signed.”

“Oh, of course. How could I forget, Hell’s Honor….”

“Yeah, well sorry!” 

And with that I turned and continued to keep making my way towards the large office doors. But from behind me I heard as he called out.

“Come on, man! You can’t do this! At least get me a water or something! I’m dying over here!”

I hurried, forcing my legs to go faster then they ever have. The shrieks from that thing were getting worse and worse, to the point where it must have made someone mad. 

From the thick darkness descended a trio of winged terrors. Armed with halberd’s, the tore limb from torso. Leaving the already impaled creature limbless. The largest of the three demons hovered in front of the culprit and made a very clear statement.

“We come back again, you live your life all over again; but this time as a worm. But I will have Mammon spawn your wretched soul above a nest of feeding birds. And this will continue for all of eternity. Until the gates of heaven are crashed down and the Lord, The Dark One, is back upon his rightful thrown. Do I make myself clear, miscreant?”

With that off the three left and still ever undetected continued onward towards the offices. 

Upon entering into Frank’s humble demon abode, I was greeted with the most repulsive of sights. On the table in front of me was the charred body of a impaled Imp. A spear had been shoved in from the back of its neck, pinning it on its knees to the table. The mouth was agape, tongue flopped out and the senses still somewhat kicking. 

The body would twitch and breathe erratically while the demons peeled off skin and flesh and devoured them whole. The smell was the worse part of it. Imagine  a black cauldron that has been sitting in the heat for a week, full of spoiled milk and rotten meat. But then multiply it by about a thousand. 

“You made it alright? Good. We started without you, but there is a open spot over there. Right next to Nybbas.” Frank pointed off to the right side of the table, back in the corner of the room.

The demon, Nybbas he called him, gave me such an odd feeling upon first site. Glued to his face was the most forced and un-genuine smile I had ever seen. It was if his face was permanently stuck in a sinister snicker. His hair was matted together and puffed out in sporadic angles. clumped together and his clothes were somewhat of a joke. He wore what looked like a lime green button up suit, that was two sizes too small. His pants were the made of the flayed faces of those he had tortured, ranging from Asians to Africans to Europeans. It was a multicolored horror. 

As I went to take a seat, the Demon rather quickly became aware of my presence. Turning to me, moving only his head, the demon looked over his shoulder.

“Mmmmm, what do we have here? whoo ho! A human soul! Why, Frank you should have told us we had a special guest tonight. I would have made some special arrangements.” 

Too petrified to answer the question that really wasn’t directed at me in the first place, I continued to watch the writhing Imp on the table. By this time, the Demons had eaten the majority of its flesh, but larges chunks of muscle and tendons clung to the rancid carcass. 

Since I showed up later, the game had already started. Not knowing how to actually play Poker myself, I opted to observe and learn how each demon handled himself. 

After being at Franks for a little over a hour, the conversations around the table really began to loosen up. I’m sure the Demons were just as nervous about having me around as I was being around them. 

Nybbas had started an argument with the demon named Decarabia.

“Hehe, silly Legion master. You think just because you have commanded the damned troops that gives you any more say over me? Hehe whooo ho!”

“Why, you filthy worm! How dare you insult me in such a manner. My thirty deep ranks will merely laugh in your face. You are more a fool and a simpleton, no more a demon then this puny human we have here us.”

“Is that a challenge I hear? Oh hoo, we do love ourselves a challenge.”

The grin got wider, then voice rose an octave. This demon was surely planning something sadistic, I thought. No other way he could have survived this long without having some nasty tricks held deep within his sleeves. 

“What do you suppose we challenge?” Asked Nybbas

By this time, Decarabia was starting to fume with rage. The whites of his eyes had turned into a misty red. He had started to rise up from the table, fist grounding down into the chiseled stone. 

“THIS IS WHAT I SAY WE DO! PROVE TO ME YOU ARE STRONGER THEN THIS HUMAN. SHOW US YOUR POWERS ON SOMEONE YOUR LESSER!”

Quickly, Nybbas rose form his seat and disappeared from the room. By this time, I was had quickly gained back that knotted feeling in my stomach I tried so hard to suppress when I had first shown up. 

But it was at this moment, the party was over. 

One moment I was still sitting at the table, the next I was standing on a floating formation of ancient earth; surrounded by a vast frontier of nothingness.

No lights, no sounds, nothing. 

In front of me, the ground began to stretch out and gained speed rather quickly. It seemed as if it went on for forever. The new path way extended so much into the nothingness, it literally disappeared from my eyes. 

Out of the darkness, the rattling sounds of wooden wheels rolling could be heard. The thundering stomps of multiple beings could be heard as well. The best picture I could muster into my head of what was headed my way was a cage of some sort being dragged by creatures I had never seen.

What my eyes confirmed was the creatures I had never seen. What they brought with them, I was not expecting. 

In front of me, on a cart was a constructed crucifix. The base was attached to the cart, but the arms had been lowered. Making it a sign of blasphemy, But I am not sure who would be offended while down here in hell. 

The cart pushers approached me, in one of the things had a large coiled rope could be seen. My anxiety rose higher and higher, but looking back I am not even sure why I was scared. I’m in hell. I get killed multiple times a day, what the fuck would this matter? 

They picked me up and carried me towards the cart, one of the things that stayed next to the Traveling Cross had done something which lowered down the angle. One thing grabbed my feet while the other mainted control over my top half. 

They brought me in bearing over the cross and forced me down onto it. Hanging there upside down, I felt them tightly wrap the ropes around my legs and my arms. 

“WHAT IS THIS! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” I panicked and released a torrent of worry and fear. 

The next thing I remembered happening was I was back in Frank’s dining room, and the gathered Demons were on the floor dying with laughter. I was hovering upside down in the air, tiny strands of thread were tied around my legs and arms; but I was not actually attached to anything. 

Behind me, I heard the insane giggle of the demon Nybbas. 

“Who has the power now, Decarabia?”

“Alright, Nybbas. I will give you that one. You made us all quite entertained tonight. I still want to see something happen. Let us desecrate this hulking meat bag we have here” Indicating the mostly eaten Imp that was no longer clinging to its tiny thread of life. 

Swiftly, Decarabia snatched up the body and beckoned everyone follow him outside. There the body was placed against a rock. From out of his sheath, the demon pulled out a primordial blade that had slain thousands before and still had many more to come. 

In one motion, Decarabia wound up and released his swing. Decapitated, the head went flying off into a distant direction. 

“Well, that’s the end of that.” Said Frank. 

Last night was, an experience to say the least. 

I arrived to Franks house a little past the time he told me to be there. No one likes to arrive way ahead of schedule, and plus I didn’t want these demon guys to think I was a nerd or anything. I wanna make a good name for myself down here, you know? But it wasn’t all entirely on purpose either.

While I was making my way towards Franks, I had run into a few people that I had known in my previous life. 

The lot of them were standing around the street corner, still wearing the standard clothes you receive upon entrance into the gates of despair. A sack cloth robe with a rope to hold the whole piece together. I buried my face into the leather coat I bought not too long ago, hoping the taller one wouldn’t see me. That plan failed, His eyes lit up like a christmas tree. He stared to slap the arms of his companions and motioned towards me with his hands.

“Dude! No way! So you ended up down here too?”

What sorta way is that to start a conversation while in hell? Obviously I am down here. We are both down here. 

“Yeah man. Crazy, I know? Totally thought it was all just a big joke. Guess not. Hey listen, I need to get going though it was go-“

The one that had spoken up first cut me off, “Nah man, come on! We just got down here.” Sweat poured from his forehead, his face flushed by the heat. “Show us around a bit! I bet its like a never ending party down here! Fuck yeah! WELCOME TO HELL, ha!”

So within that instant I felt compelled to show them around. Damn my contradicting hatred for mankind and innate urges of philanthropy. We were a few miles away from the center hub of souls, but I knew of a few local shops in the Demon Quarter that wouldn’t mind us. 

We were all walking down the street, four of us in total. I stood out from them, my newly obtained clothes with such contrast to these new arrivals. A few passing demons gave as a look of suspicion, like a old woman would eye a group of hoodlums.

Having walked around, showing a few of the more interesting parts of this side of hell, I spotted a chill place to take them too. A head of us sat a squat, limestone formed cave with a few lanterns outside the mouth. The glow of the light cast an odd blue shadow over everything, and the temperature dropped a few degrees once we entered the establishment. 

We sat around the bar, trying to catch up with one another and keep the interactions as polite as possible.

“How do you like it down here?” The question was direct towards me, and the three of them stared intently. Maybe they were hoping I would spill some life saving information or tell them that it really isn’t as bad as they thought it would be.

“It sucks. It’s the same thing every day. It’s no different then real life. This is real life. It’s just hotter.”

They all cracked a smile.

“Still the same old you, I see. Ever cheerful about everything.” 

From the back of the room, we could hear a worn looking old man ranting how the politics of the living world could be considered worse then the realm of the damned and dead. The fellow that had interrupted me earlier commented on how he was becoming aggravated.

“Jesus, I blow up a radio station and kill myself in the process to stop hearing all this babling non sense about Its his fault, no their fault, And what happens? I come to hell, hoping to get away from it all, and we are still talking about this shit! Can’t I catch a fucking break? Might as well just off myself again.”

My tolerance for these people had worn through, and I remembered again why in life I had avoided them like death.

“Yeah, that’s a good thought.” I said to him with a straight face.

Sick of being there, I simply stood up and walked out of the cave. They called out to me, but I let their cries fall onto deaf ears. 

Finding the riverside of the Quarter, I oreinted myself to make it back towards Franks house. I never had walked through the demons quarter this late at night, and the noises that I heard were almost becoming a comfort. The screeching of the lower rings could be heard from where I stood. I later learned that each ring is on a offset time scale. Satan apparently thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to have everyone yelling at once. 

After a good thirty minutes of walking, I came upon the road Frank told me to turn on. 

Decapitators Ave

Catchy. Simple. I liked it. 

Approaching his house, I made out that i was just a hollowed out stalagmite deposit. The tips of it were jagged and cryptic looking. Something out of a old horror movie, I was just waiting for the lighting to crash behind it and the evil bats to fly out. 

The front door was a large, round rock rolled into place and too the left of it was a window chipped out of the thick wall. From inside glowed the flicker of a thousand candles and the deep, murmuring roar of large, pot bellied demons could be heard from within. 

*Knock Knock*

Death like silence feel upon the house, a loud shhhhh could be heard from within as well. 

“Whooo do you think it isss?” Something hissed outloud.

“Fwank, Swome won is hewe to swee you.”

“Shut the fuck up Larry. I told you not to talk like that. You are a fucking demon, act like it!”

The sound of chairs sliding and heavy foot steps came towards the door. Slowly, the round rock moaned until enough room was made for a investigative eye to peak through.

“WHO GOES THERE!”

“Uh hi, is Frank here? He told me to come over tonight and play Poker with you guys.”

“WHO IS THIS FRANK YOU SPEAK OF?”

“Uh, he is a demon about ye high,” I stuck my hand out way above my head trying to help with the description. “He normally carries a rusted machete and has a bull head for a skull. Ring any bells?”

“Haha, I am just fucking with you. I am right here. Sure man, come on in.”