[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][/b]

[indent]The Sixth Layer of hell is dark, and its darkness is only broken by the storm clouds which cast their lightning in flashes to illuminate the dark grounds. It is where the souls of the dead who were far too epicureans in their consumption of food and drink thrive in the refuse of the layers above. The cool air half-preserves everything which funnels in from the layers above, refrigerating a land of muck and filth of things half-rotten. This is the punishment for those who lived to eat, their torment to feed upon the bottom as much as they so desire, to fill their continuous hunger with such slop. They have become literal pigs here, and like all pigs are destined for slaughter as they are butchered in the great stone castle illuminated by the storms in the background as the high gothic caps covered in the continual downpour. Within the stone walls are the cannibals who ate their own in life, and are fed the damned pigs, but even they are food too as their bodies are slowly drained of blood in great pools and vats. This layer is the epitome of the food chain, eat and be eaten. The Duke of this realm is known as the Tsar of Blood, an eloquent vampire seemingly out of place in such a mess, yet the cosmopolite smile on his lips bare his fangs which shall always savor the farming system he rules over.[/indent]

[b][i]The very earth of the last layer swallows the stagnant pools, fall into the mire and perhaps you too shall be consumed into the underground where the stones shall sieve the waters, sink down and behold the Seventh Layer of hell… [/i][/b]

[indent]The Seventh layer of hell is tropical and humid, overgrowth of vines and plants entangle the trees. It is where the souls of the dead who chose to do nothing with their abilities go to find their just reward. The languid jungle is still, for the reason that within the first sunset of a new soul’s arrival into this layer, their bodies will turn to stone, forever locked in the position the sun set upon it. Trapped, but still feeling every basic need and sensation within their stone prisons. In life they did nothing, even when they could, and it was their inaction which brings upon them their equivalent damnation. In the middle of this layer lies a single stone temple, a ziggurat with a multitude of steps reaching towards the sky as if an attempt made to escape this layer. Each stone brick is made and placed by the penitent souls who see their last minutes of movement upon the steps, carried with them as they longed for the top. The Duke of this realm is known as the Ancient Idol, a stone carving which sits atop the ziggurat and oversees the jungle, turning all those which gazes upon it into stone.[/indent]

[b][i]The jungle’s river runs ends here, in a crystalline lake, dive deep into its languid waters and breathe in the waters to die, surface upon the other side born into the fountain which decorates the Eight Layer of hell … [/i][/b]

[indent] The Eight layer of hell is enclosed by walls, towers of books upon shelves and stacks make for the landscapes of this layer. It is where the souls of the dead who sought forbidden knowledge, knowledge which would rival the gods themselves, go to continue their fruitless search. Here the infinitesimal shelves hold every book in existence, recording every thought and idea, every utterance made or written word, as one of the greatest collections of cosmic knowledge in existence. Yet in the irony of it all, the damned go searching through the volumes and tomes, cursed to spend all eternity looking for the one truth which would release them of their burden as the sea of information conceals the only scrap of knowledge which matters. In the center of the grand library, is a single well, from which all the waters run into, and it is water from this well which supplies a small sapling which grows around it, the only organic piece of nature which clings on to survival against the clockwork mechanisms which grind the gears up and down to assign the books their proper place. The Duke of this realm is known as the Grand Archmagus, a lich who pursued his master of all arcane arts and turned to necromancy for a path for immortality to be a god.[/indent]

[b][i]Deeper still, down into the wellspring, the final layer, burning torment greets you as the horde of demons, fiends and devils scramble to escape the infernal realm: The Ninth Layer of hell … [/i][/b]

[indent] The Ninth layer of hell is the original layer. The last remains of what it was to be, a burning lake of fire and endless suffering. The souls of the dead here are lost, incinerated in the flames and reborn as demons, fiends, or devils in accordance to the blackness of their soul. Their punishment is simple, for they had no sense of humanity in their life, they shall be stripped of such treacherous guise and be given a more fitting form to live in this prison forever. The Duke of this realm is known as the Lord of the Damned, but little else is known about this ancient entity who slumbers submerged in the lake of lava.[/indent]