Well done Holy Paladin. It seems you have not only protected my boat, but also managed to figure out the weakness of this beast. Oh yes, Eternity is impressed, well not really for I have all the time in the world to watch should you fail again and again. Perhaps in this incarnation you had succeeded, but in a myriad of others you had failed. In fact, the odds were marked against you, but it seems even some destinies are beyond my grasp, and only the Last of us truly can see all, for it is brother Fate which watches and guides. Now then, let us get down to business with your just rewards.

The beast fell, not with a shriek but with a terrible crashing. Dead flesh disintegrated as the tongue was stricken out by a blade. The life it had, or rather the unlife, was ousted in an instant as the giant serpent's form collapsed unto the boat, threatening to capsize it. Victory was theirs, or perhaps not for pierced into one among them was a fang, steeped in dry venom and rot such that it made the afflicted writhe in agony. The cat was staked down to the ship beneath the giant snakehead, unlucky as always in the cruel twist that a monster would cut him down. Certainly not a very pleasant way to go as the neurotoxin began its work, causing arms and legs to clench, every muscle in the body commanded to contract within moments of injection. Eyes both opened and shut, being torn out of their sockets. blood vessels and airways constricting, fingers and toes tensed at odd angles. The pressure on the detrusor and sphincters, fluids building up to burst, and the pierced heart beating itself to death as its rapid shock turned into useless flutters. Then he died, Kalico the Demon wind, his body giving up the struggle to continue to survive the concentrated amounts of venom being dumped into it. It was not a pleasant death, but neither too gruesome of one, no blood or gore which burst out of him, although he did spring at least two leaks as the last bit of action to clear his bladder and bowels were felt before his demise. And now here lies Kalico, the first of the dead amongst their numbers. his journey cut short.

Upon his last breath, did the others catch a glimpse of One of them who watches over their trial. The man wrapt in haunting white, barely visible as he emerges out of Kalico's frozen mouth upon the same breath. Turning to face them, as ethereal and wispy as the souls which had retreated back into the river in its presence. [color=ffffd0]"How unlucky... I had hoped for another soul... But this will do for now..." [/color] It spoke solemnly to the remaining heroes before disappearing just as quickly as it arrived.  Death after all was the busiest of all the four, but still had the time to personally collect the soul of a Demigod. Perhaps it was insurance that no one could collect the soul, and hence Death's lingering gaze upon the Collector who cheated Hell out of more than its fair amount of souls, but only as Death allows it. Uxzan visibly affected and the stone one too as they had just witnessed the reality of death here in this moment and where the cat's soul went was still a mystery. Would their former companion be taken by his god? Or will they too be here and abandoned like the rest of these bitter spirits?

The boat pushed on, amazingly moving forward on its own accord despite the dead body which hung off it and despite from the small leak currently being sealed by Kalico's body being impaled by a giant tooth on a large dead snake. It seemed to have a mind of its own, or perhaps a will of its own as it cruised along, the river of souls, no longer encountering anything to stop them for even the dead fear the Void. An existence, no matter now broken such as theirs, was nothing compared to the void of inexistence. That is to be something was comprehendible, but being nothing? That was terrifying to even the dead who had nothing left.

Troves of trees after trees down turning twists, the boat directed itself towards the end of the layer, where the greathall of the Duke sits, closing the pass between this layer and the next. The greathall came into view, or rather just a single long table from which a dead king sat awaiting the heroes. Beside him two bodies, both of disheveled monstrous forms hardly identifiable as humanoid. This was the Duke of hell's palace, a sad meeting point for the fallen and crestfallen. Those who would sear fealty to him, may taste the golden nectar of inebriation perhaps to temporary wash away the cold reality around them. But mortals taste not this foul brew, for it will certainly make you drink more in delirium.

"Welcome legendary heroes to the Winter King's Meadhall..." A somber spirit approached them, dressed as a warrior of old days. His helmet bearing horns as his legless torso manifested itself in a suit of hardened leather. More spirits came into view, as their gaze looked upon each Demigod passing the hall within. "What tribute do you bring to our lord?" There on the furthest side of the table, the Winter KIng himself, wearing nothing more than a meatsuit and loincloth, tankard full in hand as his eyes stared down at the so-called heroes.