[b][i]
Call me what you will, a ferryman of souls, I am the spirit of the river. They have called me many names throughout the ages, but I simply carry the damned to their damnation. The Judges Three deem them mine, and tell me where each soul must go for their punishment. And for a single golden coin, placed into the mouth of the river, I shall guide you too. All fresh souls enter me, and through me leave to live within their assigned hell. 

Into the Cave, follow the path of the frozen river, the ice cracking beneath your feet, into the First Layer of hell… [/i][/b]

[indent]The First layer of hell is cold and barren, known to mortals as Limbo. It is where the souls of the dead who had neither a strong desire in life nor faithful devotion to the any of the Gods enter and remain for all eternity. It is in this layer where the “sin” of Void is embodied in the incorporeal spirits which haunted the frozen woodland shores unable to grasp the physical world around them. For they were deemed empty in life, now their purpose shall be emptiness in death. Although they are able to take control of a soulless husk, a temporary vessel of shambling flesh, they cannot hold on to this brief meaningful existence for long before their vessel freezes solid in the unyielding winter of the void. The Duke of this realm is known as the Winter King, a powerful specter who is able to possess more than just an empty husk, taking a body for his own to control as the sole authority of this layer.[/indent]

[b][i]Where the Ice begins to melt and the frosted leaves turn to green pines, the slow river shall deliver you into the Second Layer of hell...
[/i][/b]

[indent]The Second layer of hell is cool and lush, seemingly pristine in natural beauty. It is where souls of the dead who placed aesthetics and the self above all else go to view their wickedness in their own reflections. It is in this layer where the sin of Pride is embodied by the beautiful citizens who are seemingly free to live throughout the realm. They are attractive in physical appearance with few blemishes or flaws, and yet beneath the wondrous exterior lies the rotten souls which are revealed in their reflections upon a mirror or water’s surface. Their punishment is to never see their beauty for themselves, and though their ageless bodies never decay and are preserved for all to gaze upon in splendor, they will never see themselves as truly beautiful. No, for in this layer of great artists and fine nobles, amongst the perfect mockery of heaven in the lush Zen gardens of perfection and shrines of tranquility, everyone shall be revealed by the truth of a reflecting pool. There is absolutely nothing natural about this layer, everything is forced into an aesthetic work of art, the stones, the bushes, the trees, the flowers, everything is set to appear natural although far from it. The Duke of this realm is known as the Glorious Emperor, a majestic amalgam of the best-looking souls patched together as an unnatural golem of flesh, unquestionably the most beautiful thing in this layer as he beheads anything else more attractive to add to himself.[/indent]

[b]
[i]Follow the quiet river to where the unnatural flora end, where the leaves which fall into it are no longer cut and fabricated to where the warm sands meet your toes in the shallow waters, welcome to the Third Layer of hell…
[/i][/b]

[indent]The Third layer of hell is warm and arid, exotic and enchanting. It is where the souls of the dead who gave into their carnal lusts and sought pleasures of the flesh far too much are committed to their indulgent punishment. Here in the mecca of pleasures, the flesh markets sell slaves and dismembered parts of slaves for bidders who swap them for other slave and parts. The still-feeling parts, where pleasure and pain become inseparable physical torment. Deviants from both sides of each extreme, the slavers and the enslaved, everything carnal imaginable done here within this layer. Bodies heavily modified by the flesh trades, monstrosities of intimate pleasures made from the butchery of hundreds of bodies, each connected to the original owners sewn together to become a machine of absolute carnality. That is their punishment and fate, for they so openly gave themselves up to so many others, so to shall their bodies be torn apart into as many pieces and experienced by many. The Duke of this realm is known as the Pleasure Sultan, a ghoul who literally feast upon the flesh of his harems to take their forms as he pleases, taking their identity all the while letting them feel their slow digestion as they become part of him and add to his repertoire of bodies to choose from.[/indent]

[b][i]Follow the warm waters and sands along the path, to where the sands become gold which taint the waters into a murk, and the air no longer bears the perfumed scent it did, there amongst the golden sands enter the Fourth Layer of hell…[/i][/b]

[indent]The Fourth Layer of hell is hot and unrelenting, but rich in wealth beyond description. It is where the souls of the dead who pursued wealth for its own sake go to lose their worth and value. Another marketplace is found in the sun-baked city, one where precious jewels and metals are easily found displayed on the streets as thieves and traders eye their wares carefully plotting against each other to amass the greatest hoard. Here too maintaining the order are sell-swords and mercenaries, and others who sold their personal skills for great gains, alongside the bankers who run the only currency fit for a place where gold is abundantly found: drinkable water. Yet all the treasures found here turn to sand within a day to be scattered upon the desert winds, as the curse of this layer forces new mines to scour the desert for caches of gold, silver, and gems hidden within the sand as fitting punishment for those who sought to possess material goods. The Duke of this realm is known as the Golden Pharaoh, an ancient mummified ruler who was buried with all his possessions in the grand pyramid which the marketplaces surround, controlling all the sand of his afterlife dominion as an extension of himself as he claims all the treasures beneath.[/indent]

[b][i]Where the tainted metal waters end, and the sands turn to solid stone, where the river continues now entrenched upon the high marble pillars, the stone markers alongside the aqueduct will tell you how far you must walk to arrive into the heart of the Fifth Layer of hell…[/i][/b]

[indent]The Fifth Layer of hell is temperate, but filled with music of battle and fanfare. It is where the souls of the dead who were pugnacious go to join the never-ending fray. The realm is filled with flying crows feasting upon the still-living fallen in the paved streets where constant skirmishes pit soldiers and generals against barbarians and warlords. Despite the constant fighting, the architecture of the realm still manages to remain, great stone blocks and pillars of marble stand scattered around the paved roads which lead towards the middle of the layer. Within the center of all the war camps lies the arena, a grand stadium filled with the best warriors who survived the constant wars outside, only to be pit against each other in combat for nothing more than sport. The rules of this realm make the battle eternal, for the fighters never die, but instead are submerged in the pool of bodies and blood once they can no longer fight as the river of souls is directed to wash over the Arena every hour and drain into the next layer picking up all the blood of war. The wrathful here are preserved in blood split by so many, as a representation of the blood they helped shed in life. The Duke of this realm is known as the Wolf Caesar, a werewolf who oversees the arena upon his throne in human form, though he unleashes the inner beast when he bores of simply watching.
[/indent]

[b][i]The bloody river ends in the sewage drain, a metal sieve to strain the gurgling bodies from entering the next layer which presents itself as a stinking pit, where the sunlight fades and the waters fall into the swallowing night, enter the Sixth Layer of hell…[/i]
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